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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Modern Greek Folklore and Ancient Greek Religion - A Study in Survivals - -Author: John Cuthbert Lawson - -Release Date: August 23, 2021 [eBook #66116] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Henry Flower and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/American - Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN GREEK FOLKLORE AND ANCIENT -GREEK RELIGION *** - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - -Superscript text is indicated by caret signs, e.g. M^t Pelion. The text -includes diacritics which may not display well in all software, e.g. the -inverted breve in ἀστροπελέκι̯α. - - - - - MODERN GREEK FOLKLORE - - AND - - ANCIENT GREEK RELIGION - - - - - CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS - London: FETTER LANE, E.C. - C. F. CLAY, MANAGER - - [Illustration] - - Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET - - Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO. - - Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS - - New York: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - - Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD. - - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - MODERN GREEK FOLKLORE - - AND - - ANCIENT GREEK RELIGION - - A STUDY IN SURVIVALS - - BY - - JOHN CUTHBERT LAWSON, M.A. - - FELLOW AND LECTURER OF PEMBROKE COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, - FORMERLY CRAVEN STUDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY - - Cambridge: - at the University Press - 1910 - - - - - Cambridge: - PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. - AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS - - - - - PIIS MANIBUS - - ROBERTI ALEXANDRI NEIL - - LABORUM ADHORTANTE IPSO SUSCEPTORUM - HUNC DEDICAVI FRUCTUM. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -This book is the outcome of work undertaken in Greece during my two -years’ tenure of the Craven Studentship from 1898 to 1900. It is -therefore my first duty gratefully to commemorate John, Lord Craven, -to whose benefactions of two and a half centuries ago I owed my -opportunity for research. - -The scheme of work originally proposed was the investigation of the -customs and superstitions of modern Greece in their possible bearing -upon the life and thought of ancient Greece; and to the Managers of the -Craven Fund at that time, with whom was associated Mr R. A. Neil of -Pembroke College to whose memory I have dedicated this book, I render -hearty thanks for their willingness to encourage a venture new in -direction, vague in scope, and possibly void of result. - -The course of research proposed was one which required as the first -condition of any success considerable readiness in speaking and -understanding the popular language, and to the attainment of this my -first few months were necessarily devoted. When once the ear has become -accustomed to the modern pronunciation, a knowledge of ancient Greek -makes for rapid progress; and some three or four months spent chiefly -in the _cafés_ of small provincial towns rendered me fairly proficient -in ordinary conversation. Subsequent practice enabled me also to follow -conversations not intended for my ear; and on more than one occasion -I obtained from the talk of peasants thus overheard information which -they might have been chary of imparting to a stranger. - -The time at my disposal however, after I had sufficiently mastered -the language, would have been far too short to allow of any complete -enquiry into the beliefs and customs of the country, had it not been -for the existence of two books, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen und das -Hellenische Alterthum_ by Bernhard Schmidt, and Μελέτη ἐπὶ τοῦ βίου τῶν -νεωτέρων Ἑλλήνων by Professor Polites of Athens University, which at -once supplied me with a working knowledge of the subject which I was -studying and suggested certain directions in which further research -might profitably be pursued. My debt to these two books is repeatedly -acknowledged in the following pages; and if I have given references to -Schmidt’s work more frequently than to that of Polites, my reason is -not that I owe less to the latter, but merely that the former is more -generally accessible. - -In pursuit of my task I followed no special system. I have known of -those who professed to obtain a complete knowledge of the folklore of -a given village in the course of a few hours’ visit, and whose method -was to provide themselves with an introduction to the schoolmaster, -who would generally be not even a native of the place, and to read -out to him a formidable _questionnaire_, in the charitable and -misplaced expectation that the answers given would be prompted not by -courtesy and loquacity, which are the attributes of most Greeks, but -by veracity, which is the attribute of few. The formal interview with -paper and pencil is in my opinion a mistake. The ‘educated’ Greek whose -pose is to despise the traditions of the common-folk will discourse -upon them no less tediously than inaccurately for the sake of having -his vapourings put on record; but the peasant who honestly believes the -superstitions and scrupulously observes the customs of which he may -happen to speak is silenced at once by the sight of a note-book. Apart -however from this objection to being interviewed, the countryfolk are -in general communicative enough. They do not indeed expect to be plied -with questions until their own curiosity concerning the new-comer has -been satisfied, and even then any questions on uncanny subjects must -be discreetly introduced. But it is no difficult matter to start some -suitable topic. A wedding, a funeral, or some local _fête_ perhaps -is in progress, and your host is eager to have the distinction of -escorting you to it and explaining all the customs appropriate to the -occasion. You have been taken to see the village-church, and some -offering there dedicated, to which you call attention, elicits the -story of some supernatural ‘seizure’ and miraculous cure. You express a -desire to visit some cave which you have observed in the mountain-side, -and the dissuasion and excuses which follow form the prelude to an -account of the fearful beings by whom it is haunted. Your guide crosses -himself or spits before fording a stream, and you enquire, once -safely across, what is the particular danger at this spot. Your mule -perhaps rolls with your baggage in the same stream, and the muleteer’s -imprecations suggest luridly novel conceptions of the future life. - -Much also may be effected by playing upon patriotism or vanity or, -let it be confessed, love of lucre. You relate some story heard in -a neighbouring village or praise some custom there observed, and the -peasant’s parochial patriotism is up in arms to prove the superiority -of his native hamlet. You show perhaps some signs of incredulity (but -not until your informant is well launched upon his panegyric), and -his wounded pride bids him call in his neighbours to corroborate his -story. Or again you may hint at a little largesse, not of course for -your host--only witches and the professional reciters of folk-tales and -ballads are entitled to a fee--but on behalf of his children, and he -may pardon and satisfy what might otherwise have seemed too inquisitive -a curiosity. - -Such are the folk to whom I am most beholden, and how shall I fitly -acknowledge my debt to them? Their very names maybe were unknown to me -even then, or at the most a ‘John’ or ‘George’ sufficed; and they in -turn knew not that I was in their debt. You, muleteers and boatmen, -who drove shrewd bargains for your services and gave unwittingly so -much beside, and you too, cottagers, who gave a night’s lodging to a -stranger and never guessed that your chatter was more prized than your -shelter, how shall I thank you? Not severally, for I cannot write nor -could you ever read the list of acknowledgements due; but to you all, -Georges and Johns, Demetris and Constantines, and rare anachronistic -Epaminondases, in memory of services rendered unawares, greeting from -afar and true gratitude! - -Nor must I omit to mention the assistance which I have derived from -written sources. In recent times it has been a favourite amusement with -Greeks of some education to compile little histories of the particular -district or island in which they live, and many of these contain a -chapter devoted to the customs and superstitions of the locality. From -these, as also from the records of travel in Greece, particularly those -of French writers of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, I have -culled much that is valuable. - -Nearly ten years have passed since my return from Greece, and such -leisure as they have allowed has been devoted to co-ordinating the -piecemeal information which I personally obtained or have gathered -from the writings of others, and to examining its bearing upon the -life and thought of Ancient Greece. In the former half of this task -I have but followed in the steps of Bernhard Schmidt and of Polites, -who had already presented a coherent, if still incomplete, account of -the folklore of Modern Greece, and my work has been mainly to check, -to correct, and to amplify; but for the latter half I would ask the -indulgent consideration which may fairly be extended to a pioneer. -Analogies and coincidences in the beliefs and customs of modern and of -ancient Greece have indeed been pointed out by others; but no large -attempt has previously been made to trace the continuity of the life -and thought of the Greek people, and to exhibit modern Greek folklore -as an essential factor in the interpretation of ancient Greek religion. - -It is my hope that this book will prove interesting not to Greek -scholars only, but to readers who have little or no acquaintance with -Greek. All quotations whether from the ancient or modern language -are translated, and references to ancient and modern writers are -distinguished by the use of the ordinary Latinised names and titles in -the case of the former, and the retention of the Greek character for -denoting the latter. As regards the transliteration of modern Greek -words, I have made no attempt to represent the exact sound, except to -indicate in some words the accented syllable and to make the obvious -substitution of the English _v_ for the Greek β; but to replace -γ by _gh_ and δ by _dh_, as is sometimes done, gives to words an -uncouth appearance without assisting the majority of readers in their -pronunciation. - -It remains only to express my thanks to the reviser of my proofs, Mr -W. S. Hadley of Pembroke College, but these are the hardest to express -adequately. I was conscious of making no small demand on the kindness -of the Tutor of a large College when I asked him to do me this service; -and I am conscious now that any words in acknowledgement of his -kindness are a poor expression of my gratitude for the generous measure -of time and of trouble which he has expended on each page. - -Lastly I would thank the Syndics of the University Press for their -willingness to undertake the publication of this book, and the staff of -the Press for their unfailing courtesy in the course of its preparation. - - J. C. L. - - PEMBROKE COLLEGE, - CAMBRIDGE, - _December 31, 1909_. - - - - -TABLE OF CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - - PREFACE vii-x - - CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. - - § 1. Modern Folklore as a source for the study of - Ancient Religion 1-7 - § 2. The survival of Ancient Tradition 8-25 - § 3. The survival of Hellenic Tradition 25-36 - § 4. The survival of Pagan Tradition 36-64 - - CHAPTER II. THE SURVIVAL OF PAGAN DEITIES. - - § 1. The Range of Modern Polytheism 65-71 - § 2. Zeus 72-74 - § 3. Poseidon 75-77 - § 4. Pan 77-79 - § 5. Demeter and Persephone 79-98 - § 6. Charon 98-117 - § 7. Aphrodite and Eros 117-120 - § 8. The Fates 121-130 - § 9. The Nymphs 130-162 - § 10. The Queens of the Nymphs 162-173 - § 11. Lamiae, Gelloudes, and Striges 173-184 - § 12. Gorgons 184-190 - § 13. The Centaurs 190-255 - § 14. Genii 255-291 - - CHAPTER III. THE COMMUNION OF GODS AND MEN. 292-360 - - CHAPTER IV. THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY. - - § 1. The Modern Greek Vampire 361-376 - § 2. The Composition of the Superstition: Slavonic, - Ecclesiastical, and Hellenic Contributions 376-412 - § 3. Revenants in Ancient Greece 412-434 - § 4. Revenants as Avengers of Blood 434-484 - - CHAPTER V. CREMATION AND INHUMATION 485-514 - - CHAPTER VI. THE BENEFIT OF DISSOLUTION 515-542 - - CHAPTER VII. THE UNION OF GODS AND MEN 543-606 - - GENERAL INDEX 607-617 - - INDEX OF GREEK WORDS AND PHRASES 618-620 - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -INTRODUCTORY. - - -§ 1. MODERN FOLKLORE AS A SOURCE FOR THE STUDY OF ANCIENT RELIGION. - -The sources of information most obviously open to the student of -ancient Greek religion are the Art and the Literature of ancient -Greece; and the idea that modern Greece can have any teaching to impart -concerning the beliefs of more than two thousand years ago seems seldom -to have been entertained. Just as we speak of ancient Greek as a dead -language, and too often forget that many of the words and inflexions -in popular use at the present day are identical with those of the -classical period and even of the Homeric age, while many others, no -longer identical, have suffered only a slight modification, so are we -apt to think of Greek paganism as a dead religion, and do not enquire -whether the beliefs and customs of the modern peasant may not be a -direct heritage from his classical forefathers. And yet, if any such -heritage exist, there is clearly a fresh source of knowledge open to -us, from which to supplement and to correct the lessons of Art and -Literature. - -Art, by its very nature, serves rather as illustration than as proof -of any theory of ancient religion. Sculpture has preserved to us the -old conceptions of the divine personalities. Vase-paintings record -many acts of ritual and scenes of worship. Architectural remains allow -us to restore in imagination the grandeur of holy places. But these -things are only the externals of religion: they need an interpreter, -if we would understand the spirit which informed them: and however -able the interpreter, the material with which he deals is so small -a remnant of the treasures of ancient art, that from day to day -some fresh discovery may subvert his precariously founded theories. -Though all would acknowledge how fruitful in religious suggestion the -evidence of art has proved when handled by competent critics, none -would claim that that evidence either in its scope, which the losses of -time have limited, or in its accuracy, which depends upon conjectural -interpretation, is a complete or infallible guide to the knowledge of -ancient religion. - -From literature more might be expected, and more indeed is forthcoming, -though not perhaps where the modern mind, with its tendency to -methodical analysis, would look for it. If anyone should attempt to -classify ancient Greek literature in modern fashion, under the headings -of religion, science, history, drama, and so forth, he would remark one -apparent deficiency. While history, philosophy, and poetry of every -kind are amply represented and, however much has perished to be read no -more, the choicest blossoms and richest fruit of Greek toil in these -fields have been preserved to us, religion seems at first sight to have -been almost barren of literary produce. The department of religion -pure and simple would have little beyond an Hesiodic Theogony or some -Orphic Hymns to exhibit,--and even these have little enough bearing -upon real religion. In short, it is not on any special branch of Greek -literature, but rather upon the whole bulk thereof, that the student -of Greek religion must rely. He must recognize that a religious spirit -pervades the whole; that there is hardly a book in the language but has -some allusion to religious beliefs and customs, to cults and ceremonies -and divine personalities. And while recognizing this, he must still -admit the fact that nowhere is there found any definite exposition of -accepted beliefs as a whole, any statement of doctrine, any creed which -except a man believe he cannot be saved. How are we to reconcile these -two facts,--the constant presence of religion in all Greek literature, -and the almost total absence of any literature appertaining to religion -only? The answer to this question must be sought in the character of -the religion itself. - -Greek religion differed from the chief now existing religions of the -world in its origin and development. It had no founder. Its sanction -was not the _ipse dixit_ of some inspired teacher. It possessed nothing -analogous to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, or the Koran. It was a -free, autochthonous growth, evolved from the various hopes and fears -of a whole people. If we could catch a glimpse of it in its infancy, -we should probably deny to it the very name of religion, and call it -superstition or folklore. Great teachers indeed arose, like Orpheus, -advocating special doctrines and imposing upon their followers special -rules of life. Great centres of religious influence were developed, -such as Delphi, exercising a general control over rites and ceremonies. -But no single preacher, no priesthood, succeeded in dominating over -the free conscience of the people. Nothing was imposed by authority. -In belief and in worship each man was a law unto himself; and so far -as there were any accepted doctrines and established observances, -these were not the subtle inventions of professional theologians or -an interested priesthood, but were based upon the hereditary and -innate convictions of the whole Greek race. The individual was free to -believe what he would and what he could; it was the general, if vague, -consensus of the masses which constituted the real religion of Greece. -The _vox populi_ fully established itself as the _vox dei_. - -Again in this popular religion, when it had emerged from its earliest -and crudest form and had reached the definitely anthropomorphic stage -in which we know it, we can discern no trace of any tendency towards -monotheism. The idea of a single supreme deity, personal or impersonal, -appealed only to some of the greatest thinkers: the mass of the people -remained frankly polytheistic. For this reason the development of -Greek religion proceeded on very different lines from that of Hebrew -religion. The earliest Jewish conception of a God ‘walking in the -garden in the cool of the day’ was certainly no less anthropomorphic -than the Homeric presentation of the Olympian deities: but the -subsequent growth of Judaism was like that of some tall straight palm -tree lifting its head to purer air than is breathed by men; whereas -Greek religion resembled rather the cedar spreading wide its branches -nearer the earth. The Jew, by concentrating in one unique being every -transcendent quality and function, exalted gradually his idea of -godhead far above the anthropomorphic plane: the Greek multiplied -his gods to be the several incarnations of passions and powers and -activities pertaining also, though in less fulness, to mankind. - -It is obvious that in point of simplicity and consistency the -monotheistic system must prove superior. As the worshipper’s -intellectual and spiritual capacities develop, he discards the older -and cruder notions in favour of a more enlightened ideal. Abraham’s -crude conception of the deity as a being to whom even human sacrifice -would be acceptable was necessarily rejected by an humaner age to whom -was delivered the message ‘I will have mercy and not sacrifice.’ In the -growth of Greek polytheism, on the contrary, the new did not supersede -the old, but was superimposed upon it. Fresh conceptions were expressed -by the creation or acceptance of fresh gods, but the venerable -embodiments of more primitive beliefs were not necessarily displaced by -them. The development of humaner ideas in one cult was no bar to the -retention of barbarous rites by another. The same deity under different -titles of invocation (ἐπωνυμίαι) was invested with different and even -conflicting characters: and reversely the same religious idea found -several expressions in the cults of widely different deities. The forms -of worship, viewed in the mass, were of an inconsistent and chaotic -complexity. Human sacrifice, we may be sure, was a thing abhorrent to -the majority of the cults of Zeus: yet Lycaean Zeus continued to exact -his toll of human life down to the time of Pausanias[1]. The worship of -Dionysus embodied something of the same religious spirit which pervaded -the teachings of Orpheus and the mysteries of Demeter, and came to be -closely allied with them: yet neither the austerity of Orphism nor -the real spirituality of the Eleusinian cult succeeded in mitigating -the wild orgies of the Bacchant or in repressing the savage rite of -_omophagia_ in which drunken fanatics tore a bull to pieces with their -teeth. Aphrodite was worshipped under two incompatible titles: in the -_rôle_ of the ‘Heavenly’ (οὐρανία), says Artemidorus[2], she looks -favourably upon marriage and childbirth and the home life, while under -her title of ‘Popular’ (πάνδημος) she is hostile to the matron, and -patroness of laxer ties. It is needless to multiply illustrations. The -forms in which the religious spirit of Greece found embodiment are -beyond question confused and mutually inconsistent. The same religious -idea might be expressed in so great a variety of rites, and the same -divine personality might be associated with so great a variety of -ideas, that no formal exposition of Greek religion as a whole was -possible. The verbal limitations of a creed, a _summa theologiae_, -would have been too narrow for the free, imaginative faith of Greece. -It was a necessary condition of Hellenic polytheism that, as it came -into being without any personal founder, without any authoritative -sacred books, so in its development it should be hampered and confined -neither by priestcraft nor by any literature purely and distinctively -religious. The spirit which manifested itself in a myriad forms of -worship could not brook the restraint of any one form of words. - -And not only would it have been difficult to give adequate expression -to the essential ideas of Greek religion, but there was no motive for -attempting the task. Those of the philosophers who dealt with religion -wrote and taught for the reason that they had some new idea, some fresh -doctrine, to advance. Plato certainly abounds in references to the -popular beliefs of his age: but his object is not to expound them for -their own sake: rather he utilizes them as illustration and ornament -of his own philosophical views: his treatment of them in the main is -artistic, not scientific. In fact there was no one interested in giving -to popular beliefs an authoritative and dogmatic expression. There -was no hierarchy concerned to arrest the free progress of thought or -to chain men’s minds to the faith of their forefathers. A summary of -popular doctrines, if it could have been written, would have had no -readers, for the simple reason that the people felt their religion -more truly and fully than the writer could express it: and few men -have the interests of posterity so largely at heart, as to write what -their own contemporaries will certainly not read. Thus it appears that -there was neither motive nor means for treating the popular religion -in literary form: to formulate the common-folk’s creed, to analyse the -common-folk’s religion, was a thing neither desired nor feasible. - -But because we observe an almost total absence of distinctively -religious literature, we need not for that reason be surprised at the -constant presence of religious feeling in all that a Greek wrote or -sang. Rather it was consistent with that freedom and that absence of -all control and circumscription which we have noted, that religion -should pervade the whole life of the people, whose hearts were its -native soil, and should consequently pervade also the literature in -which their thoughts and doings are recorded. For religion with them -was not a single and separate department of their civilisation, not -an avocation from the ordinary pursuits of men, but rather a spirit -with which work and holiday, gaiety and gloom, were alike penetrated. -We should be misled by the modern devotion to dogma and definite -formulae of faith, were we to think that so vague a religion as Greek -polytheism was any the less an abiding force, any the less capable of -inspiring genuine enthusiasm and reverence. It is not hard to imagine -the worshipper animated for the time by one emotion only, his mind -void of all else and flooded with the one idea incarnate in the divine -being at whose altar he sat in supplication. It is impossible really -to misdoubt the strength and the depth of Greek religious sentiment, -however multifarious and even mutually contradictory its modes of -display. A nation who peopled sky and earth and sea with godlike forms; -who saw in every stream and glen and mountain-top its own haunting, -hallowing presence, and, ill-content that nature alone should do them -honour, sought out the loveliest hills and vales in all their lovely -land to dedicate there the choicest of their art; who consecrated with -lavish love bronze and marble, ivory and gold, all the best that wealth -could win and skill adorn, in honour of the beings that were above man -yet always with him, majestic as Zeus, joyous as Dionysus, grave as -Demeter, light as Aphrodite, yet all divine; such a nation, though it -knew nought of inspired books and formulated creeds, can be convicted -of no shortcoming in real piety and devotion. - -Their gods were very near to those whom they favoured; no communion -or intercourse was beyond hope of attainment; gods fought in men’s -battles, guided men’s wanderings, dined at men’s boards, and took to -themselves mortal consorts; and when men grew degenerate and the race -of heroes was no more, gods still held speech with them in oracles. -Religious hopes, religious fears, were the dominant motive of the -people’s whole life. It was in religion that sculpture found its -inspiration, and its highest achievements were in pourtraying deities. -The theatre was a religious institution, and on the stage, without -detriment to reverence, figured the Eumenides themselves. Religious -duties were excuse enough for Sparta to hang back from defending the -freedom of Greece. Religious scruples set enlightened Athens in an -uproar, because a number of idols were decently mutilated. Religious -fears cost her the loss of the proudest armament that ever sailed from -her shores. A charge of irreligion was pretext enough for condemning -to death her noblest philosopher. In everything, great and small, the -pouring of libations at the feast, the taking of omens before battle, -the consulting of the Delphic oracle upon the most important or most -trivial of occasions, the same spirit is manifest. Religion used or -abused, piety or superstition, was to the Greeks an abiding motive and -influence in all the affairs of life. - -It is chiefly of these definite doings and customs that literature -tells us, just as art depicts the _mise-en-scène_ of religion. Yet it -would be inconceivable that a people who displayed so strong and so -abundant a religious feeling in all the circumstances and tasks of -life, should not have pondered over the essential underlying questions -of all religion, the nature of the soul and the mystery of life and -death. Literature tells us that to their poets and philosophers these -problems did present themselves, and many were the solutions which -different thinkers propounded: but of the general sense of the people -in this respect, of the fundamental beliefs which guided their conduct -towards gods and men in this life and prompted their care for the dead, -literature furnishes no direct statement: its evidence is fragmentary, -casual, sporadic. Everywhere it displays the externals, but it leaves -the inner spirit veiled. Literature as well as art needs an interpreter. - -It is precisely in this task of interpretation that the assistance -offered by the folklore of Modern Greece should be sought. It should -be remembered that there is still living a people who, as they have -inherited the land and the language, may also have inherited the -beliefs and customs, of those ancients whose mazes of religion are -bewildering without a guide who knows them. Among that still living -people it is possible not only to observe acts and usages, but -to enquire also their significance: and though some customs will -undoubtedly be found either to be mere survivals of which the meaning -has long been forgotten, or even to have been subjected to new and -false interpretations, yet others, still rooted in and nourished by an -intelligent belief, may be vital documents of ancient Greek life and -thought. - - -§ 2. THE SURVIVAL OF ANCIENT TRADITION. - -There may perhaps be some few who, quite apart from the continuity of -the Hellenic race, a question with which I must deal later, would be -inclined to pronounce the quest of ancient religion in modern folklore -mere lost labour. The lapse, they may think, of all the centuries which -separate the present day from the age of Hellenic greatness would in -itself disfigure or altogether efface any tradition of genuine value. -Such a view, however, is opposed to all the lessons that have of late -years been gained from a more systematic study of the folklore of all -parts of the world. Certain principles of magic and certain tendencies -of superstition seem to obtain, in curiously similar form, among -peoples far removed both in racial type and in geographical position. -It is sometimes urged by way of explanation that the resources of the -primitive mind are necessarily so limited, that many coincidences in -belief and custom are only to be expected, and that therefore the -similarity of form presented by some superstitions of widely separated -peoples is no argument in favour of their common origin. But, for my -part, when I consider such a belief as that in the Evil Eye, which -possesses, I believe, an almost world-wide notoriety, I find it -more reasonable to suppose that it was a tenet in the creed of some -single primitive people, of whom many present races of the world are -offshoots, and from whom they have inherited the superstition, than -that scores or hundreds of peoples, who had long since diverged in -racial type and dwelling and language, should subsequently have hit -upon one uniform belief. Indeed it may be that in the future the study -of folklore will become a science of no less value than the study of -language, and that by a comparison of the superstitions still held by -various sections of the human race it will be possible to adumbrate -the beliefs of their remotest common ancestors as clearly as, by -a comparison of their various speeches, the outlines of a common -ancestral language have been, and are being, traced. The _data_ of -folklore are in the nature of things more difficult to collect, more -comprehensive in scope, and more liable to misinterpretation, than the -_data_ of linguistic study; but none the less, when once there are -labourers enough in the field, it is not beyond hope that the laws -which govern the tradition and modification of customs and beliefs may -be found to be hardly less definite than the laws of language. - -But comparative folklore is outside my present purpose. I assume -only, without much fear of contradiction, that many of the popular -superstitions and customs and magical practices still prevalent in the -world date from a period far more remote than any age on which Greek -history or archaeology can throw even a glimmering of light. If then -I can show that among the Greek folk of to-day there still survive in -full vigour such examples of primaeval superstition as the belief in -‘the evil eye’ and the practice of magic, I shall have established at -least an antecedent probability that there may exist also vestiges of -the religious beliefs and practices of the historical era. - -The fear of ‘the evil eye’ (τὸ κακὸ μάτι, or simply τὸ μάτι[3],) is -universal among the Greek peasantry, and fairly common though not so -frankly avowed among the more educated classes. The old words βασκαίνω -and βασκανία are still in use, but ματιάζω and μάτι̯αγμα[4], direct -formations from the word μάτι, are more frequently heard. It would be -difficult to say on what grounds this power of ‘overlooking,’ if I -may use a popular English equivalent, is usually imputed to anyone. -Old women are most generally credited with it, but not so much owing -to any menacing appearance as because they are the chief exponents of -witchcraft and it is only fitting that the wise woman of a village -should possess the power of exercising the evil eye at will. These form -therefore quite a distinct class from those persons whose eyes are -suspected of exerting naturally and involuntarily a baneful influence. -In the neighbourhood of Mount Hymettus it appears that blue eyes fall -most commonly under suspicion: and this is the more curious because in -Attica, with its large proportion of Albanian inhabitants, blue eyes -are by no means rare. Possibly, however, it was the native Greeks’ -suspicion of the strangers who settled among them, which first caused -this particular development of the belief in this district. Myself -possessing eyes of the objectionable colour, I have more than once been -somewhat taken aback at having my ordinary salutation (’γει̯ά σου, -‘health to you,’) to some passing peasant answered only by the sign -of the Cross. Fortunately in other localities I never to my knowledge -inspired the same dread; had it been general, I should have been forced -to abandon my project of enquiring into Greek folklore; for the risk -of being ‘overlooked’ holds the Greek peasant, save for a few phrases -of aversion, in awe-stricken silence. My impression is that any eyes -which are peculiar in any way are apt to incur suspicion, and that in -different localities different qualities, colouring or brilliance or -prominence, excite special notice and, with notice, disfavour. The evil -eye, it would seem, is a regular attribute both of the Gorgon and of -the wolf; for both, by merely looking upon a man, are still believed to -inflict some grievous suffering,--dumbness, madness, or death; and yet -there is little in common between the narrow, crafty eye of the wolf -and either the prominent, glaring eyes in an ancient Medusa’s head or -the passionate, seductive eyes of the modern Gorgon, unless it be that -any fixed unflinching gaze is sufficient reason for alarm. - -Some such explanation will best account for the strange vagary of -superstition which brings under the category of the evil eye two -classes of things which seemingly would have no connexion either with -it or with each other, looking-glasses and the stars. - -To look at oneself in a mirror is, in some districts, regarded as a -dangerous operation, especially if it be prolonged. A bride, being -specially liable to all sinister influences, is wise to forego the -pleasure of seeing her own reflection in the glass; and a woman in -child-bed, who is no less liable, is deprived of all chance of seeing -herself by the removal of all mirrors from the room. The risk in -all cases is usually greatest at night, and in the town of Sinasos -in Cappadocia no prudent person would at that time incur it[5]. The -reflection, it would seem, of a man’s own image may put the evil eye -upon him by its steady gaze: and it was in fear of such an issue that -Damoetas, in the _Idylls_ of Theocritus, after criticizing his own -features reflected in some glassy pool, spat thrice into his bosom that -he might not suffer from the evil eye[6]. - -The belief in a certain magical property of the stars akin to that of -the evil eye is far more widely held. They are, as it were, the eyes -of night, and in the darkness ‘overlook’ men and their belongings as -disastrously as does the human eye in the day-time. Just as a woman -after confinement is peculiarly liable to the evil eye and must have -amulets hung about her and mirrors removed from her room, so must -particular care be taken to avoid exposure to stellar influence. -Sonnini de Magnoncourt, who had some medical experience in Greece, -speaks authoritatively on this subject. According to the popular view, -he says, she must not let herself be ‘seen by a star’; and if she -goes out before the prescribed time,--according to this authority, -only eight days, but now preferably forty days, from the birth of -the child,--she is careful to return home and to shut herself up in -her room by sunset, and after that hour to open neither door nor -window, for fear that a star may surprise her and cause the death of -both mother and child[7]. So too in the island of Chios, if there is -occasion to carry leaven from one house to another, it must be covered -up,--in the day-time ‘to prevent it from being seen by any strange -eye,’ at night ‘to prevent it from being seen by the stars’: for if it -were ‘overlooked’ by either, the bread made with it would not rise[8]. -Such customs show clearly that the stars are held to exercise exactly -the same malign influence as the human eye: the same simple phrases -denote in Greek the operation of either, and the ‘overlooking’ of -either has the same blighting effect. - -The range of this mischievous influence--for I now take it that the -evil eye and the stars are indistinguishable in their ill effects--is -very large. Human beings are perhaps most susceptible to it. In some -districts[9] indeed new-born infants up to the time of their baptism -are held to be immune; till then they are the children of darkness, -and the powers of darkness do not move against them. But in general -no one at any moment of his life is wholly secure. Amulets however -afford a reasonable safety at ordinary times; it is chiefly in the -critical hours of life, at marriage and at the birth of children, that -the fear of the evil eye is lively and the precautions against it more -elaborate. Animals also may be affected. Horses and mules are very -commonly protected by amulets hung round their necks, and this is the -original purpose of the strings of blue beads with which the cab-horses -of Athens are often decorated. The shepherd too has cause for anxiety -on behalf of his flock, and, when a bad season or disease diminishes -the number of his lambs, is apt to re-echo the pastoral complaint, - - Nescio quis teneros oculus mihi fascinat agnos[10]. - ‘Some jealous eye “o’erlooks” my tender lambs.’ - -And the pernicious influence makes itself felt in even a lower scale -of life. In the neighbourhood of Sparta, where there is a considerable -silk industry, the women believe that silk-worms are susceptible of -mischief from the evil eye; and the same superstition is recorded by de -Magnoncourt from Chios. - -Of inanimate things, those most easily damaged in a similar way are -leaven, salt, and vinegar,--as being possessed of quickening or -preservative properties to which the blighting, destructive power of -the evil eye or of the stars is naturally opposed. The precautions -to be observed in carrying leaven from house to house have already -been noticed. Equal care is required in the making of the bread. It -often happens, so I have been told, that when a woman is kneading, -some malicious neighbour will come in, ostensibly for a chat, and put -the evil eye upon the leaven; and unless the woman perceives what is -going on and averts disaster by a special gesture which turns the evil -influence against the intruder, nothing to call bread will be baked -that day. Similarly it is unwise to borrow or to give away either salt -or vinegar at night[11]; but if it is necessary, it is prudent to -take precautions to prevent its exposure to the stars, which may even -be cheated of their prey by some such device as calling the vinegar -(ξεῖδι) ‘syrup’ (γλυκάδι) in asking for it[12]. Further, an object -which has been exposed to the stars may even carry the infection, as -it were, to those who afterwards use it. For this reason the linen and -clothes of a mother and her new-born infant must never be left out of -doors at night[13]. - -The precaution, as I have said, most commonly adopted is the wearing -of amulets. The articles which have the greatest intrinsic virtue for -this purpose are garlic, bits of blue stone or glass often in the form -of beads, old coins, salt, and charcoal: but many other things, by -their associations, may be rendered efficacious. The stump of a candle -burnt on some high religious festival, or a shred of the Holy Shroud -used on Good Friday, is by no means to be despised; and the bones of a -bat or a snake’s skin over which a witch has muttered her incantations -acquire thereby an equal merit. But such charms as these are _objets -de luxe_; the ordinary man contents himself with the commoner articles -whose virtue is in themselves. No midwife, I understand, would go about -her business without a plentiful supply of garlic. It is well that the -room should be redolent of it, and a few cloves must be fastened about -the baby’s neck either at birth or immediately after the baptism. Blue -beads are in general use for women, children, and animals. If men wear -them, they are usually concealed from view. But mothers value them -above all, because in virtue of their colour--γαλάζιος is modern Greek -for ‘blue’--they ensure an abundant supply of milk (γάλα) unaffected -by the evil eye or any other sinister potency. Salt and charcoal are -most conveniently carried in little bags with a string to go round the -neck. An effective charm consists of three grains of each material with -an old coin. But many other things are also used; when I have been -permitted to inspect the contents of such a bag, I have found strange -assortments of things, pebbles, pomegranate-seeds, bits of soap, leaves -of basil and other plants, often hard to recognize through age and dirt -and grease. One scientifically-minded man recommended me sulphate of -copper. - -Special occasions also have special precautions proper to them. At -a wedding, the time of all others when envious eyes are most likely -to cause mischief, the bridegroom commonly carries a black-handled -knife slipped inside his belt[14], and the bride has an open pair of -scissors in her shoe or some convenient place, in order that any such -evil influence may be ‘cut off.’ But some of these magical safeguards -concern not only the evil eye, but ghostly perils in general, and will -claim notice in other connexions. - -If, however, through lack of precautions or in spite of them, a man -suspects that he is being ‘overlooked,’ he must rely for protection -on the resources with which nature has provided him. The simplest -thing is to spit,--three times for choice, for that number has magical -value,--but on oneself, not at the suspected foe. Theocritus was -scrupulously correct, according to the modern view, in making his -shepherd spit thrice on his own bosom. Another expedient, though no -garlic be at hand to give effect to the words, is to ejaculate, σκόρδο -’στὰ μάτι̯α σου, ‘garlic in your eyes!’ Or use may be made of an -imprecation considered effective in many circumstances of danger, νὰ -φᾶς τὸ κεφάλι σου, ‘may you devour your own head!’ Lastly there is the -φάσκελον, a gesture of the hand,--first raised with the fist closed -and then suddenly advanced either with all the fingers open but bent, -or with the thumb and little finger alone extended,--which returns the -evil upon the offender’s own head with usury. - -But, in spite of these manifold means of defence, the evil eye has -its victims; some malady seizes upon a man, for which no other cause -can be assigned; and the question of a cure arises. Here the Church -comes to the rescue, with special forms of prayer, commonly known as -βασκανισμοί, provided for the purpose. The person affected goes to the -church, or, if the case be serious, the priest comes to his house, -the prayers are recited, and the sufferer is fumigated with incense. -Also if there happens to be a sacred spring or well, ἅγι̯ασμα as it -is called, in the precincts of any church near,--and there are a fair -number of churches in Greece which derive both fame and emolument from -the possession of healing and miracle-working waters[15],--the victim -of the evil eye is well-advised to drink of them. There are some, -however, who rate the powers of a witch more highly than those of a -priest, and prefer her incantations to the prayers of the Church. She -knows, or is ready to improvise, forms of exorcism (ξόρκια, ξορκισμοί) -for all kinds of affliction. A typical example[16] begins, as do many -of the incantations of witchcraft, with an invocation of Christ and the -Virgin and the Trinity and the twelve Apostles; then comes a complaint -against the grievous illness which needs curing; next imprecations -upon the man or woman responsible for causing it; and finally an -adjuration of the evil eye to depart from the sufferer’s ‘head and -heart and finger-nails and toe-nails and the cockles of the heart, -and to begone to the hills and mountains[17]’ and so forth; after all -which the Lord’s prayer or any religious formula may be repeated _ad -libitum_. During the recitation of some such charm, the witch fumigates -her patient either with incense, or,--what is more effectual where a -guess can be made as to the identity of the envious enemy,--by burning -something belonging to the latter, a piece of his clothing or even a -handful of earth from his doorway[18]. Or again, if the patient is at a -loss to conjecture who it is that has harmed him, recourse may be had -to divination. A familiar method is to burn leaves or petals of certain -plants,--basil and gillyflower being of special repute[19],--mentioning -at the same time a number of names in succession. A loud pop or -crackling denotes that the name of the offender has been reached, and -the treatment can then proceed as described above. - - * * * * * - -No less widespread in Greece than the belief in the evil eye, and -equally primitive in character, is the practice of magic. Few -villages, I believe, even at the present day do not possess a wise -woman (μάγισσα). Often indeed, owing to the spread of education and -the desire to be thought ‘European’ and ‘civilised,’ the inhabitants -will indignantly deny her existence, and affect to speak of witches -as things of the past. But in times of illness or trouble they are -apt to forget their pretensions of superiority, and do not hesitate -to avail themselves of the lore inherited from their superstitious -forefathers. For the most part women are the depositaries of these -ancient secrets, and the knowledge of charms, incantations, and all -the rites and formularies of witchcraft is handed down from mother to -daughter. But men are not excluded from the profession. The functions -of the priest, for example, are not clearly distinguished from those of -the unconsecrated magician. At a baptism, which often takes place in -the house where the child is born and not at the church, the priest -opens the service by exorcising all evil spirits and influences from -the four corners of the room by swinging his censer, but the midwife, -who usually knows something of magic, or one of the god-parents, -accompanies him and makes assurance doubly sure by spitting in each -suspected nook. Moreover if a priest lead a notoriously evil life or -chance to be actually unfrocked, the devil invests him with a double -portion of magical power, which on any serious occasion is sure to be -in request. But, apart from the clergy who owe their powers to the use -or abuse of their office, there are other men too here and there who -deal in witchcraft. They are usually specialists in some one branch, -and professors of the white art rather than of the black,--one versed -in popular medicine and the incantations proper to it, another in -undoing mischievous spells, another in laying the restless dead. The -general practitioners, causing disease as often as curing it, binding -with curses as readily as loosing from them, are for the most part -women. - -I shall not attempt to enumerate here all the petty uses of magic -of which I have heard or read: indeed an exhaustive treatment of -the subject, even for one who had devoted a lifetime to cultivating -an intimacy with Greek witches, would be hardly possible; for their -secrets are not lightly divulged, and new circumstances may at any -time require the invention of new methods. I propose only to describe -some of the best known and most widely spread practices, some -beneficent, others mischievous. Most of them will be seen to be based -on the primitive and worldwide principle of sympathetic magic,--the -principle that a relation, analogy, or sympathy existing, or being once -established, between two objects, that which the one does or suffers, -will be done or suffered also by the other. - -If it be desired to cause physical injury or death to an enemy, the -simplest and surest method is to make an image of him in some malleable -material,--wax, lead, or clay,--and, if opportunity offer, to knead -into it or attach to it some trifle from the enemy’s person. Three -hairs from his head are a highly valuable acquisition, but parings -of his nails or a few shreds of his clothing will serve: or again -the image may be put in some place where his shadow will fall upon -it as he passes. These refinements of the practice, however, are not -indispensable; the image by itself will suffice. This being made, the -treatment of it varies according to the degree of suffering which it is -desired to inflict. - -Acute pain may be caused to the man by driving into his image pins -or nails. This device is popularly known as κάρφωμα, ‘pinning’ or -‘nailing,’ and many variations of it are practised. One case recorded -in some detail was that of a priest’s wife who from her wedding-day -onward was a prey to various pains and ills. The priest tried in vain -to relieve them by prayer, and finally called in a witch to aid him. -After performing certain occult rites of divination, she informed him -that he must dig in the middle of his courtyard. There he found a tin, -which on being opened revealed an assortment of pernicious charms,--one -of his wife’s bridal shoes with a large nail through it, a dried-up bit -of soap (presumably from the bridal bath) stuck full of pins, a wisp -of hair (probably some of the bride’s combings) all in a tangle, and -lastly a padlock. The nail and pins were at once pulled out and the -hair carefully disentangled, with the result that the woman was freed -from her pains and her complicated ailments. But the padlock could not -be undone, and was thrown away into the sea, with the result that the -woman remained childless. The bride had been ‘nailed’ (καρφωμένη) by a -rival. In this case, it is true, no waxen or leaden image was used, but -the principle is the same. The use of an image is only preferable as -allowing the maker of it to select any part of the body which he wishes -to torture. - -Another method of dealing with the image is to melt or wear it away -gradually; if it be of wax or lead, it may be seared with a red-hot -poker, or placed bodily in the fire; if it be of clay, it may be -scraped with a knife, or put into some stream which will gradually wash -it away. Accordingly as it is thus wasted away, slowly or rapidly, so -will the person whom it represents waste and die. This is in principle -the same system as that adopted by Simaetha in the Idyll of Theocritus -to win back the love of Delphis. ‘Even as I melt this wax,’ she cries, -‘with God’s help, so may the Myndian Delphis by love be straightway -molten[20]’; and she too used in her magic rites a fringe from Delphis’ -cloak, to shred and to cast into the fierce flame.[21] Only, in her -case, the incantation turned what might have been a death-spell into a -love-charm. - -Love and jealousy are still the passions which most frequently suggest -the use of magic. Occult methods are necessary to the girl whose -modesty prevents her from courting openly the man on whom her heart is -set, and not less so to her who would punish the faithlessness of a -former lover. - -The following are some recorded recipes[22] for winning the love of an -apathetic swain. - -Obtain some milk from the breasts of a mother and daughter who are both -nursing male infants at the same time, or, in default of that, from any -two women both nursing first-born male infants; mix it with wheat-flour -and leaven, and contrive that the man eat of it. Repeat therewith the -following incantation: ὅπως κλαῖνε καὶ λαχταρίζουν τώρα τὰ παιδία ποῦ -τοὺς λείπει τὸ γάλα τους, ἔτσι νὰ λαχταρίσῃ καὶ ὁ τάδε γι̯ὰ τὴν τάδε, -‘As the infants now cry and throb with desire for the milk which fails -them, so may N. throb with desire for M.’ - -Take a bat or three young swallows, and roast to cinders on a fire of -sticks gathered by a witch at midnight where cross-roads meet: at the -same time repeat the words, ὅπως στρηφογυρίζει, τρέμει, καὶ λαχταρίζει -ἡ νυχτερίδα ἔτσι νὰ γυρίζῃ ὁ τάδε, νὰ τρέμῃ καὶ νὰ λαχταρίζῃ ἡ καρδι̯ά -του γι̯ὰ τὴν τάδε, ‘As the bat writhes, quivers, and throbs, so may N. -turn, and his heart quiver and throb with desire for M.’ The ashes of -the bat are then to be put into the man’s drink. - -Take a bat and bury it at cross-roads; burn incense over it for forty -days at midnight; dig it up and grind its spine to powder. Put the dust -in the man’s drink as before. - -Such are some of the magic means of winning love; and the rites, while -involving as much cruelty to the bat as was suffered by the bird of -witchcraft, the ἴυγξ, in the ancient counterpart of these practices, -are at any rate, save for the ashes in the man’s liquor, innocuous -to him. But the weapon of witchcraft wherewith a jealous woman takes -vengeance upon a man who has forsaken her or who has never returned -her affection and takes to himself another for his bride, is truly -diabolical. This is known as the spell of ‘binding’ (δέσιμον or -ἀμπόδεμα[23]). Its purpose is to fetter the virility of the husband -and so to prevent the consummation of the marriage. The rite itself -is simple. Either the jealous girl herself or a witch employed by her -attends the wedding, taking with her a piece of thread or string in -which three loops have been loosely made. During the reading of the -gospel or the pronouncement of the blessing, she pulls the ends of -the string, forming thereby three knots in it, and at the same time -mutters the brief incantation, δένω τὸν τάδε καὶ τὴν τάδε, καὶ τὸ -διάβολο ’στὴ μέση, ‘I bind N. and M. and the Devil betwixt them.’ The -thread is subsequently buried or hidden, and unless it can be found -and either be burnt or have the knots untied, there is small hope for -the man to recover from his impotence. There is no doubt, I think, -that the extreme fear in which this spell is held has in some cases so -worked upon the bridegroom’s nerves as to render the ‘binding’ actually -effective, just as extreme faith in miraculous _icons_ occasionally -effects cures of nervous maladies[24]. Sonnini de Magnoncourt vouches -for a case, known to him personally, in which the effect of this -terror continued for several months, until finally the marriage was -dissolved on the ground of non-consummation, and the man afterwards -married another wife and regained his energy[25]. I myself have more -than once been told of similar cases, in which however divorce was not -sought (it is extremely rare in Greece) but the spell was broken by -the finding of the thread or by countervailing operations of magic. In -Aetolia, where this superstition is specially rife, I knew of a priest, -a son of Belial by all accounts, who made a speciality of loosing -these binding-spells. By his direction the afflicted man and his wife -would go at sunset to a lonely chapel on a mountain-side, taking -with them food and a liberal supply of wine, with which to regale -themselves and the priest till midnight. At that hour they undressed -and stood before the priest, who pronounced over them some form of -exorcism and benediction,--my informant could not give me the words. -They then retired to rest on some bedding provided by the priest on -the chapel-floor, while he recited more prayers and swung his censer -over them. I was assured that more than one couple in the small town -where I was staying confessed to having obtained release from the spell -by a night thus spent and with the extreme simplicity of the peasants -of that district thought no shame to confess it. And this is the more -easily intelligible, because, as we shall see later[26], the practice -of ἐγκοίμησις, sleeping in some holy place with a view to being cured -of any ailment, is as familiar to Christians of to-day as it was to -their pagan ancestors. - -But pure magic too, no less than these quasi-Christian methods, may -effect the loosing of the bond, even without the discovery of the -knotted thread which is the source of the mischief. In a recent case -on record, a witch, having been consulted by a couple thus distressed, -took them to the sea-shore, bade them undress, bound them together with -a vine-shoot, and caused them to stand embracing one another in the -water until forty waves had beaten upon them[27]. On the significance -of the details of this charm no comment is made by the recorder of -it; but they deserve, I think, some notice. The vine-shoot, like the -olive-shoot, is a known instrument of purification, and is sometimes -laid on the bier beside the dead during the lying-in-state (πρόθεσις). -Salt is likewise possessed of magical powers to avert all evil -influences,--we have noticed the use of it in amulets to protect from -the evil eye,--and the sea is therefore more efficacious than a river -for mystic purposes. Forty is the number of purification; the churching -of women takes place on the fortieth day from the birth, whence the -Greek word for to ‘church’ is σαραντίζω,--from σαράντα, ‘forty.’ Lastly -the beating of the waves seems intended to drive out by physical -compulsion the devil or any power of evil by which husband and wife are -kept apart. - -In view of this danger it is natural that ample precautions should -be taken at every wedding. During the dressing of the bride or the -bridegroom, it is customary to throw a handful of salt into a vessel -of water, saying, ὅπως λυώνει τὸ ἁλάτι, ἔτσι νὰ λυώσουν οἱ ὀχτροί -(ἐχθροί), ‘As the salt dissolves, so may all enemies dissolve.’ The -black-handled knife worn by the bridegroom in his belt, and the pair -of scissors put in the bride’s shoe or sometimes attached to her -girdle, both of which have been noticed as safeguards against the -evil eye, serve also to ‘cut’ this magic bond of impotence. Sometimes -too a pair of scissors and a piece of fisherman’s net are put in the -bridal bed. In Acarnania and Aetolia, and it may be elsewhere, a still -more primitive custom prevails; both bride and bridegroom wear an -old piece of fishing-net,--in which therefore resides the virtue of -salt water,--round the loins next to the body; and from these bits of -netting are afterwards made amulets to be worn by any children of the -marriage. Such customs are likely long to continue among the simpler -folk of modern Greece, who frankly and innocently wish the bride at her -wedding reception ‘seven sons and one daughter.’ - -But it is not only for ailments induced by malicious magic that magical -means of cure or aversion are used. The whole of popular medicine is -based upon the knowledge of charms and incantations. Many simples and -drugs are of course known and employed; but it is still generally -believed, as it was in old time, that ‘there would be no good in the -herb without the incantation[28].’ For the most ordinary diseases are -credited to supernatural causes, and there is no ill to which flesh is -heir,--from a headache to the plague,--without some demon responsible -for it. A nightmare and the sense of physical oppression which often -accompanies it are not traced to so vulgar a cause as a heavy supper, -but are dignified as the work of a malicious being named Βραχνᾶς[29], -who in the dead of night delights to seat himself on the chest of -some sleeper, and by his weight produces an unpleasant feeling of -congestion. Material for a similar personification has been found also -in the more terrible pestilences by which Greece has from time to time -been visited. It is still believed among the poorest folk of Athens -that in a cleft on the Hill of the Nymphs, undisturbed even by the -modern observatory on its summit, there lives a gruesome sisterhood, -a trinity of she-devils, Χολέρα, Βλογι̯ά, and Πανοῦκλα,--Cholera, -Smallpox, and Plague. - -Granted then that illness in general is the malicious work of -supernatural beings, common reason recommends the employment of -supernatural means to defeat and expel them. Forms of exorcism have -in past times been provided by the Church and are still in vogue; but -here, as in other matters, the functions of the priest are shared -with the witch, and an old woman versed in the traditional lore of -popular medicine is as competent as any bishop to cast out the devils -of sickness. Nor do the popular incantations differ much in substance -from the ecclesiastical. The witch knows better than to try to cast -out devils in the Devil’s name, and her exorcisms contain invocations -of God and the saints of the same character as those sanctioned by -the Church; only in her accompanying rites and gestures there is a -picturesque variety which is lacking in the swinging of the priest’s -censer. - -The details of the rites and the full forms of incantation are in -general extremely difficult to obtain. The witches themselves are -always reticent on such points, and I have known one plead, by way of -excuse for her apparent discourtesy in withholding information, that -the virtue of magic was diminished in proportion as the knowledge of -it was disseminated. One cure, however,--a cure for headache--will -sufficiently illustrate the principle on which the healing art among -the common-folk generally proceeds. This cure is based upon the -assumption that the tense and bruised feeling of a bad headache is -due to the presence of some demon within the skull, and that the -room which he occupies must have been provided by distention of the -head,--which will therefore measure more in circumference while it -aches than when the demon has been exorcised. This is demonstrated in -the course of the cure. The witch takes a handkerchief and measures -with it the patient’s head. Doubling back the six or eight inches of -the handkerchief that remain over, she puts in the fold three cloves of -garlic, three grains of salt, or some other article of magical virtue, -and ties a knot. Then waving the handkerchief about the patient’s head, -she recites her form of exorcism,--but usually in a tone so low and -mumbling that the bystanders cannot catch the words. The exorcism being -finished, she again measures the head, and this time the knot, which -marks the previous measurement, is found to overlap, by two or three -inches it may be, the other end of the kerchief,--a sure sign that the -intruding demon has been expelled and that the head having returned to -its natural dimensions will no longer ache[30]. The exact words of the -incantation which should accompany this rite I could not obtain; but -I make little doubt that in substance they would differ little from a -Macedonian formula recently published:-- - -‘For megrim and headache: - -‘Write on a piece of paper:--God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of -Jacob, loose the demon of the megrim from the head of Thy servant. I -charge thee, unclean spirit which ever sittest in the head of man, -take thy pain and depart from the head: from half-head, membrane, and -vertebra, from the servant of God, So-and-so. Stand we fairly, stand we -with fear of God. Amen[31].’ - -In this instance we have the formula but not, it seems, the rite which -should accompany it; for the mere act of committing the words to paper -is hardly likely to be deemed sufficient. Probably the paper would be -laid under the pillow at night, or, as I have known in other cases, -would be burnt, and its ashes taken as a sedative powder. - -The various charms which we have so far considered are directed towards -the hurt or the healing of man: but external nature is also responsive -to magic spells. It is rumoured that there are still witches who have -power to draw down the moon from the heavens by incantation; but a more -useful ceremony, designed to draw down the clouds upon a parched land, -may still be actually witnessed. The most recent case known to me was -in the April of 1899, when the rite was carried out some few days, -unfortunately, after I had left the district by the people of Larissa. -The custom is known all over the north of Greece--in Epirus[32], -Thessaly, and Macedonia,--and also it is said among some of the Turks, -Wallachs, and Servians; to the south of those regions and in the -islands of the Aegean I heard nothing of it. A boy (or sometimes, it -is said, a girl[33]) is stripped naked and then dressed up in wreaths -and festoons of leafage, grass, and flowers, and, escorted by a troop -of children of his own age, goes the round of the neighbourhood. He is -known as the περπερία, and his companions sing as they go, - - Perpería goes his way - And to God above doth pray, - Rain, O God, a gentle rain, - Shed, O God, a gentle shower, - That the fields may give their grain, - And the vines may come to flower, - -and so forth in such simple strain[34]. At each doorway and more -particularly at every spring and well, which it is the special duty of -the Perpería to visit, anyone who will may empty a vessel of water over -the boy, to whom some compensation for his drenching is usually made in -the form of sweetmeats or coppers. - -The word περπερία has been the subject of considerable discussion. -By-forms περπερίτσα, περπεροῦνα, and παππαροῦνα also occur. The first -two are of the nature of diminutives; the last-named is a corrupt form -used only, so far as I know, in one district of Epirus, and means -a ‘garden-poppy.’ The perversion of the word has in this district -(Zagorion) affected the rite itself; for it is considered necessary -for this flower to be used largely in dressing up the chief actor in -the ceremony[35]. But the most general, and, as I think, most correct -form is περπερία (or περπερεία). With the ancient word περπερεία, -derived from the Latin _perperus_ and used in the sense of ‘boasting’ -or ‘ostentation,’ it can, I feel, have no connexion; and I suggest that -it stands for περιπορεία, with the same abbreviation as in περπατῶ -for περιπατῶ, ‘walk,’ and subsequent assimilation of the first two -syllables. If my conjecture is right, the word originally meant nothing -more than a ‘procession round’ the village; next it became confined in -usage to a procession for the particular purpose of procuring rain; -and finally, the words πορεία[36] and πορεύομαι having been lost from -popular speech, it was taken to be the name of the boy who plays the -uncomfortable part of vegetation craving water. And indeed it would -seem likely that the song which forms part of the ceremony was actually -first composed at a time when περπερία was still understood in the -sense of ‘procession’: for in every recorded version known to me it -would be still possible to interpret the word in this meaning without -detriment to the context. - -The rite itself as an example of sympathetic magic requires no -commentary: a simpler application of the principle that like produces -like could not be found. - - * * * * * - -Other examples of primitive customs and beliefs still prevalent -in Greece might easily be amassed: but I have preferred to select -these few for detailed treatment rather than to glance over a larger -number, in order that they may the more clearly be seen to belong to -certain types of superstition found the whole world over and therefore -presumably dating from prehistoric ages: for if the population of -Greece has proved a good vehicle for the transmission of superstitions -so primaeval, it will surely follow that there is nothing extravagant -in hoping to learn also from their traditions something of the religion -of historic Hellas. - - -§ 3. THE SURVIVAL OF HELLENIC TRADITION. - -There may however be some who, while admitting that mere lapse of time -need not have extinguished ancient Hellenic ideas, will be disposed to -question the likelihood, even the possibility, of their transmission -on racial grounds. The belief in the evil eye and the practice of -sympathetic magic were once, they may say, the common property of the -whole uncivilised world; and though the inhabitants of modern Greece -have inherited these old superstitions and usages, there is nothing -to show from what ancestry they have received the inheritance. The -population, it may be urged, has changed; the Greeks of to-day are not -Hellenes; their blood has been contaminated by foreign admixture, and -with this admixture may have come external, non-Hellenic traditions; -has not Fallmerayer stoutly maintained that the modern inhabitants of -Greece have practically no claim to the name of Hellenes, but come of a -stock Slavonic in the main, though cross-bred with the offscourings of -many peoples? - -The historical facts from which Fallmerayer argued are not to be -slighted. It is well established[37] that, from the middle of the sixth -century onwards, successive hordes of Slavonic invaders swept over -Greece, driving such of the native population as escaped destruction -into the more mountainous or remote districts; that in the middle of -the eighth century, when the numbers of the Greek population had been -further reduced by the great pestilence of 746, ‘the whole country,’ -to use the exact phrase of Constantine Porphyrogenitus[38], ‘became -Slavonic and was occupied by foreigners’; that the Slavonic supremacy -lasted at least until the end of the tenth century; that thereafter -a gradual fusion of the remnants of the Greek population with their -conquerors began, but proceeded so slowly that at the beginning of the -thirteenth century the ‘Franks,’ as the warriors of Western Christendom -were popularly called, found Slavonic tribes in Elis and Laconia quite -detached from the rest of the population, acknowledging indeed the -supremacy of the Byzantine government, but still employing their own -language and their own laws; and finally that the amalgamation of the -two races was not complete even by the middle of the fifteenth century, -for the Turks at their conquest of Greece found several tribes of the -Peloponnese, especially in the neighbourhood of Mount Taygetus, still -speaking a Slavonic tongue. - -If then, as is now generally admitted, Fallmerayer’s conclusions were -somewhat exaggerated, it remains none the less an historical fact that -there is a very large admixture of Slavonic blood in the veins of the -present inhabitants of Greece. The truth of this is moreover enforced -by the physical characteristics of the people as a whole. Travellers -conversant alike with Slavs and with modern Greeks have affirmed to me -their impression that there is a close physical resemblance between the -two races; and while I have not the experience of Slavonic races which -would permit me to judge of this resemblance for myself, it certainly -offers the best explanation of my own observations with regard to the -variations of physical type in different parts of the Greek world. In -the islands of the Aegean and in the promontory of Maina, to which the -Slavs never penetrated, the ancient Hellenic types are far commoner -than in the rest of the Peloponnese or in Northern Greece. Not a -little of the charm of Tenos or Myconos or Scyros lies in the fact -that the grand and impassive beauty of the earlier Greek sculpture may -still be seen in the living figures and faces of men and women: and if -anyone would see in the flesh the burly, black-bearded type idealised -in a Heracles, he need but go to the south of the Peloponnese, and -among the Maniotes he will soon be satisfied: for there he will find -not merely an occasional example, as of reversion to an ancestral type, -but a whole tribe of swarthy, stalwart warriors, whose aspect seems to -justify their claim that in proud, though poverty-stricken, isolation -they have kept their native peninsula free from alien aggression, -and the old Laconian blood still pure in their veins. The ordinary -Greek of the mainland, on the other hand, is usually of a mongrel and -unattractive appearance; and in view of the marked difference of the -type in regions untouched by the Slavs, I cannot but impute his lack of -beauty to his largely Slavonic ancestry. - -Yet even in the centre of the Peloponnese where the Slavonic influence -has probably been strongest, the pure Greek type is not wholly extinct. -I remember a young man who acted as ostler and waiter and in all other -capacities at a small _khan_ on the road from Tripolitza to Sparta, who -would not have been despised as a model by Praxiteles; and elsewhere -too, now and again, I have seen statuesque forms and classic features, -less perfect indeed than his, but yet proclaiming beyond question an -Hellenic lineage; so that I should hesitate to say that in any part of -Greece the population is as purely Slavonic as in Maina or many of the -islands it is purely Greek. - -But, as I think, the exact proportion of Slavonic and of Hellenic -blood in the veins of the modern Greeks is not a matter of supreme -importance. Even if their outward appearance were universally and -completely Slavonic, I would still maintain that they deserve the -name of Greeks. Though their lineage were wholly Slavonic, their -nationality, I claim, would still be Hellenic. For the nationality of -a people, like the personality of an individual, is something which -eludes definition but which embraces the mental and the moral as -well as the physical. A man’s personality is not to be determined by -knowledge of his family and his physiognomy alone; and similarly racial -descent and physical type are not the sole indices of nationality. Even -if a purely Slavonic ancestry had dowered the inhabitants of Greece -with a purely Slavonic appearance, yet, if their thoughts and speech -and acts were, as they are, Greek, I would still venture to call them -Greek in nationality. _Ce n’est que la peau dont l’Ethiope ne change -pas._ - -But the people of modern Greece do not actually present so extreme -a case of acquired nationality. They are partly Greek in race: and -if it should appear that they are wholly Greek in nationality, the -explanation must simply be that the character, no less than the -language, of their Hellenic ancestors was superior in vitality to that -of the Slavs who intermarried with them, and alone has been transmitted -to the modern Greek people. - -What, then, is the national character at the present day? - -The first feature of it which casual conversation with any Greek will -soon bring into view is that narrow patriotism which was so remarkable -a trait in the Greeks of old time. If he be asked what is his native -land (πατρίδα), his answer will be, not Greece nor any of the larger -divisions of it, but the particular town or hamlet in which he happened -to be born: and if in later life he change his place of abode, though -he live in his new home ten or twenty years, he will regard himself -and be regarded by the native-born inhabitants as a foreigner (ξένος). -Or again if a man obtain work for a short time in another part of -the country, or if a girl marry an inhabitant of a village half a -dozen miles from her own, the departure is mourned with some of those -plaintive songs of exile in which the popular muse delights. Nor are -there lacking historical cases in which this narrow love of country -has produced something more than fond lamentations; the boast of the -Maniotes that they have never acknowledged alien masters is in the -main a true boast, and it was pure patriotism which nerved them in -their long struggle with the Turks for the possession of their rugged, -barren, storm-lashed home. It was patriotism too, narrow and proud, -that both sustained the heroic outlaws of Souli in their defiance of -Ottoman armies, and also,--because they disdained alliance with their -Greek neighbours,--contributed to their final downfall. - -But so tenacious and indomitable a courage is in modern, as it was in -ancient, Greece the exception rather than the rule. The men of Maina -and of Souli are comparable to the Spartans: but in no period of Greek -history has steadfast bravery been commonly displayed. Yet, in spite -of the humiliating experiences of the late Graeco-Turkish war, the -Greek people should not be judged devoid of courage. But theirs is a -courage which comes of impulse rather than of self-command; a courage -which might prompt a charge as brilliant as that of Marathon, but could -not cheerfully face the hardships of a campaign; a courage which might -turn a slight success into a victory, but could not save a retreat from -becoming a rout. - -It must be acknowledged also that the rank and file are in general -more admirable than their officers. The bravery of the men, impulsive -and short-lived though it be, is inspired by a real devotion of -themselves to a cause; whereas among the officers self-seeking and even -self-saving are conspicuous faults. Even the really courageous leaders -seldom have a single eye to the success of their arms. Their plans are -marred by petty jealousies. The same rivalries for the supreme command -which embarrassed the Greeks of old in defending their liberty against -Persia, were repeated in the struggles of the last century to throw off -the Turkish yoke. And if in both cases the Greeks were successful, in -neither was victory due to the unity and harmony of their leaders, but -rather to that passionate hatred of the barbarians which stirred the -people as a whole. - -Indeed, not only in war but in all conditions of life, any personal -eminence or distinction has been apt to turn the head of a Greek. -‘The abundant enjoyment of power or wealth,’ said the ancients not -without knowledge of the national character, ‘begets lawlessness and -arrogance’; and in humbler phrase the modern proverb sums up the same -qualities of the race,--καλὸς δοῦλος, κακὸς ἀφέντης, ‘a good servant -and a bad master.’ In all periods of Greek history there have been -few men who have attained to power without abusing it. The honour -of being returned to the Greek Parliament upsets the mental balance -of a large number of deputies. Without any more intimate knowledge -of politics than can be obtained from second-rate newspapers, they -believe themselves called and qualified to lead each his own party, -with the result--so it is commonly said--that no government since the -first institution of parliament has ever had an assured majority in -the House, and on an average there have been more than one dissolution -a year. The modern parliament is as unstable an institution as the -ancient ecclesia of Athens when there was no longer a Pericles to -control it, and its demagogues are as numerous. - -Even the petty eminence of a village schoolmaster proves to be too -giddy a pinnacle for many. Such an one thinks it necessary to support -his position--which owing to the Greek love of education is more highly -respected perhaps than in other countries--by a pretence of universal -knowledge and a pedantry as lamentable as it is ludicrous. I remember -a gentleman who boasted the title of Professor of Ancient History in -the _gymnasium_ or secondary school of a certain town, who called to me -one day as I was passing a _café_ where he and some of his friends were -sitting, and said that they were having a pleasant little discussion -about the first Triumvirate, and had recalled the names of Cicero and -Caesar, but could not at the moment remember the third party. Could -I help them? I hesitated a moment, and then resolved to risk it and -suggest, what was at least alliterative if not accurate, the name of -Cato. ‘Of course,’ he answered, ‘how these things do slip one’s memory -sometimes!’ Yet this Professor posed as an authority on many subjects -outside his own province of learning, and frequently when I met him -would insist on talking dog-Latin with an Italian pronunciation, a -medium in which I found it difficult to converse. - -In this readiness to discourse on any and every subject and to -display attainments in and out of season, he and the class of which -he is typical are the living images of the less respectable of the -ancient Sophists. And in pedantry of language too they fairly rival -their famous prototypes. The movement in favour of an artificial -revival of ancient Greek has already been of long duration, and has -had a detrimental effect upon the modern language. The vulgar tongue -has a melodious charm, while many classical words, in the modern -pronunciation, are extremely harsh and uncouth. The object of the -movement is to secure an uniform ‘pure’ speech, as they call it, -approximate to that of Plato or of Xenophon; and the method adopted is -to mix up Homeric and other words of antiquarian celebrity with literal -renderings of modern French idioms, inserting datives, infinitives, -and other obsolete forms at discretion. To aid in this movement is the -task and the delight of the schoolmasters: and such is their devotion -to this linguistic sophistry, that they are not dismayed even by the -ambiguity arising from the use of ancient forms indistinguishable in -modern speech. The two old words ἡμέτερος and ὑμέτερος have now no -difference in sound: yet the schoolmaster uses them and inculcates -the use of them, with the lamentable result that the children are not -taught to distinguish _meum_ and _tuum_ even in speech. - -And here again the character of the modern Greek reflects that of his -ancestors. Honesty and truthfulness are not the national virtues. To -lie, or even to steal, is accounted morally venial and intellectually -admirable. It is a proof of superior mother-wit, than which no quality -is more valued in the business of everyday life. Almost the only -things in Greece which have fixed prices are tobacco, newspapers, and -railway-tickets. The hire of a mule, the cost of a bunch of grapes, -the price of meat, the remuneration for a vote at the elections,--such -matters as these are the subject of long and vivacious bargaining, and -if the money does not change hands on the spot, the bargain may be -smilingly repudiated and an attempt made, on any pretext which suggests -itself, to extort more. Yet there is a certain charm in all this; for, -if a man get his own price, it is not so much the amount of his profit -which pleases him as his success in winning it; and if he fail, he -takes a smaller sum with perfect good humour and increased respect for -the man who has outwitted him. Anyone may be honest; but to be ἔξυπνος, -as they say, shrewd, wide-awake,--this is Greek and admirable. The -contrast of an Aristides with a Themistocles is the natural expression -of Greek thought. Moral uprightness and mental brilliance are not to be -expected of one and the same man; and for the most part the Greeks now -as in old time praise others for their justice and pride themselves on -their cunning. The acme of cleverness is touched by him who can both -profit by dishonesty and maintain a reputation for sincerity. - -But, while truthfulness and fair dealing are certainly rare, there -is one relation in which the most scrupulous fidelity is unfailingly -shown. The obligations of hospitality are everywhere sacred. The -security and the comfort of the guest are not in name only but in -actual fact the first consideration of his host. However unscrupulous -a Greek may be in his ordinary dealings, he never, I believe, harbours -for one moment the idea of making profit out of the stranger who -seeks the shelter of his roof. For hospitality in Greece, it must be -remembered, means not the entertainment of friends and acquaintances -who are welcome for their own sake or from whom a return in kind may -be expected, but real φιλοξενία, a generous and friendly welcome to -a stranger unknown yesterday and vanished again to-morrow. To each -unbidden chance-comer the door is always open. For lodging he may -chance to have an incense-reeking room where the family _icons_ hang, -or a corner of a cottage-floor barricaded against the poultry and -other inmates; for food, hot viands rich in circumambient oil, or -three-month-old rye-bread softened in a cup of water; but among rich -and poor alike he is certain of the best which there is to give. Even -where there are inns available, the stranger will constantly find -that the first native of the place to whom he puts the Aristophanic -enquiry ὅπου κόρεις ὀλίγιστοι[39]--which inn is of least entomological -interest--will constitute himself not guide but host and will place the -resources of his own house freely at the service of the chance-found -visitor. - -The reception accorded by Eumaeus to Odysseus, in its revelation of -human--and also of canine--character, differs in no respect from -that which may await any traveller at the present day. As Odysseus -approached the swineherd’s hut, ‘suddenly the yelping dogs espied him, -and with loud barking rushed upon him, but Odysseus guilefully sat -down and let fall his staff from his hand[40].’ Such is the opening -of the scene; and many, I suppose, must have wondered, as they read -it, wherein consisted Odysseus’ guilefulness. A shepherd of Northern -Arcadia resolved me that riddle. I had been attacked on a mountain-path -by two or three of his dogs,--‘like unto wild beasts[41],’ as Homer -has it,--and the combat may have lasted some few minutes when the -shepherd thought fit to intervene. Sheep-dogs are of course valued in -proportion to their ferocity towards any person or animal approaching -the flock, and a taste of blood now and again is said to keep them -on their mettle. Fortunately matters had not reached that point; but -none the less I suggested to the man that he might have bestirred -himself sooner. ‘Oh,’ he replied, ‘if you are really in difficulties, -you should sit down’; and when I showed some surprise, he explained -that anyone who is attacked by sheepdogs has only to sit down and let -go his walking-stick or gun or other offensive weapon, and the dogs, -understanding that a truce has been called, will sit down round him and -maintain, so to speak, a peaceful blockade[42]. On subsequent occasions -I tested the shepherd’s counsel, beginning prudently with one dog only -and, as I gained assurance, raising the number: it is uncomfortable[43] -to remain sitting with a bloodthirsty Molossian hound at one’s back, -ready to resume hostilities if any suspicious movement is made; but I -must own that, in my own fairly wide experience, Greek dogs, as they -are _sans peur_ in combat, are also _sans reproche_ in observing a -truce. The traveller may fare worse than by following the example of -guileful Odysseus. - -But if the scene of the encounter be not a mountain-path but the -approach to some cottage, the dogs’ master will, like Eumaeus, hasten -to intervene, ‘chiding them and driving them this way and that with -a shower of stones[44],’--for the Greek dog does not heed mere -words,--and again like Eumaeus will assure his visitor that he himself -would have been ‘covered with shame[45]’ if the dogs had done his guest -any hurt. Then he will conduct his guest into his cottage and bid him -take his fill of bread and wine before he tells whence he is come -and how he has fared[46]: for Greek hospitality spares the guest the -fatigue of talking until he is refreshed. The visitor therefore sits -at his ease, silent and patient, while his host catches and kills such -beast or fowl as he may possess, cuts up the flesh in small pieces, -threads these on a spit, and holds them over the embers of his fire -till they are ready to serve up[47]: similarly, in Homeric fashion, -he mixes wine and water[48]; and then, all the preparations being now -complete, he urges his guest to the meal[49]. - -Thus the hospitality of to-day, in its details no less than in its -spirit, recalls the hospitality of the Homeric age. The supreme virtue -of the ancient Greek remains the supreme virtue of the modern, and a -familiarity with the manners of the present day alone might suffice -to explain why Paris who stole another man’s wife was execrable but -Admetus who let his own wife die for him could yet win admiration. The -one broke the laws of hospitality; the other, by hiding his loss and -entertaining his guest, upheld them. - -A comparative estimate, such as I have essayed, of the characters of -Greeks of old and Greeks of to-day is perhaps evidence of a somewhat -intangible nature to those who are not personally intimate with the -people: but no foreigner, even though he were totally ignorant of the -modern language, could chance upon one of the many festivals of the -country without remarking that there, in humbler form, are re-enacted -many of the scenes of ancient days. The πανηγύρια, as they call these -festivals,--diminutives, both in name and in form, of the ancient -πανηγύρεις,--present the same medley of religion, art, trading, -athletics, and amusement which constituted the Olympian games. The -occasion is most commonly some saint’s-day, and a church or a sacred -spring (ἅγι̯ασμα) the centre of the gathering. Art is represented by -the contests of local poets or wits in improvising topical and other -verses, and occasionally there is present one of the old-fashioned -rhapsodes, whose number is fast diminishing, to recite to the -accompaniment of a stringed instrument still called the κιθάρα[50] the -glorious feats of some patriot-outlaw (κλέφτης) in defiance of the -Turks. Then there are the pedlars and hucksters strolling to and fro or -seated at their stalls, and ever crying their wares--fruit, sausages, -confectionery of strange hues and stranger taste, beads, knives, cheap -_icons_ ranging in subject from likenesses of patron-saints to gaudy -views of hell, and all manner of tin-foil trinkets representing ships, -cattle, and parts of the human body for dedication in the church. Then -in some open space there will be a gathering of young men, running, -wrestling, hurling the stone; yonder others, and with them the girls, -indulge in the favourite recreation of Greece, those graceful dances, -of which the best-known, the συρτός[51], and probably others too, are -a legacy from dancers of old time. It is impossible to be a spectator -of such scenes without recognising that here, in embryonic form, are -the festivals of which the famous gatherings of Olympia and Nemea, -Delphi and the Isthmus, were the full development. - -And it may well happen too that the observant onlooker will descry -also the rudiments of ancient drama. Often, as is natural in so -mountainous and rugged a country, the only level dancing-place which -a village possesses is a stone-paved threshing-floor hewn out of the -hill-side. Hither on any festal occasion, be it a saint’s-day or one -of the celebrations which naturally follow the ingathering of harvest -or vintage, the dancers betake themselves. Here too a small booth -or tent, still called σκηνή, is often rigged up, to which they can -retire for rest or refreshment, while on the slopes above are ranged -the spectators. The circular threshing-floor is the _orchestra_, -the hill-side provides its tiers of seats, the dancers, who always -sing while they dance, are the chorus; add only the village musician -twanging a sorry lyre, and in the intervals of dancing an old-fashioned -rhapsode reciting some story of bygone days, or, it may be, two village -wits contending in improvised pleasantries, and the rudiments of -ancient Tragedy or Comedy are complete. - -Other illustrations might easily be amassed. On March 1st the boys -of Greece still parade the village-streets with a painted wooden -swallow set on a flower-decked pole, and sing substantially the same -‘swallow-song’ (χελιδόνισμα)[52] as was sung in old time in Rhodes[53]. -On May 1st the girls make wreaths of flowers and corn which, like the -ancient εἰρεσιώνη, must be left hanging over the door of the house till -next year’s wreaths take their place. The fisherman still ties his oar -to a single thole with a piece of rope or a thong of leather, as did -the mariners of Homer’s age[54]. The farmer still drives his furrows -with an Hesiodic plough. - -Such are a few of the survivals which bear witness to the genuinely -Hellenic nationality of the inhabitants of modern Greece: and last, -but not least, there is the language, which, albeit no index of race, -is most cogent evidence of tradition. To the action of thought upon -language there corresponds a certain reaction of language upon thought: -it is impossible to speak a tongue which contains, let us say, the -word νεράϊδα (modern Greek for a ‘nymph’) without possessing also an -idea of the being whom that word denotes. Therefore even if the whole -population of Greece were demonstrably of Slavonic race, the fact that -it now speaks Greek would go far to support its claim to Hellenic -nationality: for its adoption of the Greek language would imply its -assimilation of Greek thought. - -But, quite apart from the evidence of custom and language, the -occasional perpetuation of the ancient Greek physical type and the -general survival of the ancient Greek character plainly forbid so -extreme a supposition as that of Fallmerayer: no traveller familiar -with the modern Greek peasantry could entertain for a moment the idea -that at any period the whole of Greece became Slavonicized, but, -whatever might be the historical arguments for such a theory, would -reject it, on the evidence of his own eyes, as ludicrously exaggerated. -Fusion of race, no doubt, there has been; but in that fusion the -Hellenic element must have been the most vital and persistent; for if -the present population of Greece is of mixed descent, in its traditions -at least it is almost purely Hellenic. - - -§ 4. THE SURVIVAL OF PAGAN TRADITION. - -It appears then that notwithstanding the immigration of Slavonic -hordes, and notwithstanding also, it may be added, the influences -exercised in later periods by ‘Franks,’ Genoese, Venetians, and Turks, -the traditions of the inhabitants of Greece still remain singularly -pure; and their claim to Hellenic nationality is justified by their -language, by their character, and by many secular aspects of their -civilisation. But in the domain of religion it might reasonably be -expected that a large change would have taken place. There is the -obstinate fact, it may be thought, that the Greeks are now and have -long been Christian. Did not the new religion dispossess and oust the -ancient polytheism? Are we to look for pagan customs in the hallowed -usages of the Greek Church? What can the simple Christian peasant of -to-day, subject from his youth up to ecclesiastical influence, know of -the religion of his distant ancestors,--of those fundamental beliefs -which guided their conduct towards gods and men in this life, and -inspired their care for the dead? - -On the conduct of man towards his fellow-men in this life the influence -of Christianity appears to have been as great as that of paganism was -small. Duty towards one’s neighbour hardly came within the purview -of Hellenic religion. If we look at the supreme acts of worship in -ancient times, we cannot fail to be struck by the disunion of the -religious and the ethical. A certain purity was no doubt required of -those who attended the mysteries of Eleusis; but by that purity was -meant physical cleanliness and, strangely enough, a pure use of the -Greek language, just as much as any moral temperance or rectitude; and -the required condition was largely attained by the use or avoidance -of certain foods and by bathing in the sea. Their cleanliness in fact -was of the same confused kind, half physical and half moral, as that -which the inhabitants of Tenos were formerly wont, and perhaps still -continue, to seek on S. John the Baptist’s day (June 24) by leaping -thrice through a bonfire and crying ‘Here I leave my sins and my -fleas[55]’: and it was acquired by means equally material. There is -nothing conspicuously ethical in such a purity as this. - -If moreover, as has been well argued[56], a state of ecstasy was -the highest manifestation of religious feeling, and this spiritual -exaltation was the deliberate aim and end of Bacchic and other orgies, -it must be frankly avowed that religion in its highest manifestations -was not conducive to what we call morality. The means of inducing -the ecstatic condition comprised drunkenness, inhalation of vapours, -wild and licentious dancing. With physical surexcitation came, or -was intended to come, a spiritual elevation such that the mind could -visualise the object of its desire[57] and worship, and enjoy a sense -of unity therewith. On the savagery and debauchery which accompanied -these religious celebrations there is no need to enlarge. The _Bacchae_ -of Euripides, with all its passion for the beauty of holiness, is a -standing monument to the excesses of frenzy: and that these were no -mere figment of the poet’s imagination nor a transfiguration of rites -long obsolete, is proved by a single sentence of a sober enough writer -of later times, ‘The things that take place at nocturnal celebrations, -however licentious they may be, although known to the company at large, -are to some extent condoned by them owing to the drunkenness[58].’ - -There were of course certain sects, such as the Orphic, who, in -strong contrast with the ordinary religion, upheld definite ethical -standards, preaching the necessity of purification from sin, and -advocating moral and even ascetic rules of life. Yet, in spite of -this, we find a certain amalgamation of Orphic and Bacchic mysteries. -And why? Simply because both sects alike had a single end in view, a -spiritual exaltation in which the soul might transcend the things of -ordinary life, and see and commune with its gods. What did it matter -if the means to that end differed? The one sect might reduce the -passions of the body by rigid abstinence; the other might deaden them -with a surfeit of their desire; but, whether by prostration or by -surexcitation, the same religious end was sought and gained, and that -end justified means which we count immoral. - -In effect the morality of a man’s life counted for nothing as compared -with his religion. Participation in the mysteries ensured blessings -here and hereafter which an evil life would not forfeit nor a good -life, without initiation, earn. ‘Thrice blessed they of men, who look -upon these rites ere they go to Hades’ home: for them alone is there -true life there, and for the others nought but evil[59].’ It was this -that made Diogenes scoffingly ask, ‘What, shall the thief Pataecion -have a better lot than Epaminondas after death, because he has been -initiated[60]?’ Seemingly religion and morality were to the Greek mind -divorced, or rather had never been wedded. Religion was concerned only -with the intercourse of man and god: the moral character of the man -himself and his relations with his fellows were outside the religious -sphere. - -Indeed it would have been hard for the ancients to regard morality as -a religious obligation, when immorality was freely imputed to their -gods. This was a real obstacle to the ethical improvement of the people -at large, and was recognised as such by many thinkers. Pindar strove to -expurgate mythological stories which brought discredit on the morals -of Olympus. Plato would have banished the evil records of Homeric -theology from his ideal state, and ridicules Musaeus for forming no -more lofty conception of future bliss than ‘eternal drunkenness.’ -Epicurus defended his own attitude towards the gods on the plea that -there was ‘no impiety in doing away with the popular gods, but rather -in attaching to the gods the popular ideas of them[61].’ In effect, in -order to reconcile religion with the teaching of ethics, the would-be -preacher of morality had either openly to discard a large amount of the -popular theology or else to have recourse to adaptation and mystical -interpretation of so artificial and arbitrary a kind that it could gain -no hold upon the simple and spontaneous beliefs of the common-folk. -Yet even among the ordinary men of those days there must have been -some who, though they did not aspire to instruct their fellow-men, -yet in hours of sober reason and cool judgement cannot have viewed -unabashed the inconsistencies of a religion whose gods were stained -with human vices. But such thoughts, we may suppose, were swept away, -as men approached their sanctuaries and their mysteries, by a flood of -religious fervour. Passion in such moments defeated reason. Emotion, -susceptibility, imagination, impetuosity, powers of visualisation -regarded among western nations as the perquisite of the inebriate, -powers of ecstasy not easily distinguished from hysteria,--such were -the mental conditions essential to the highest acts of worship; by -these, and not by sober meditation, the soul attained to the closest -communing and fullest union with that god whose glory for the nonce -outshone all pale remembrance of mere moral rectitude and alone was -able to evoke every supreme emotion of his worshipper. - -If then morality was ever to be imposed and sanctioned by religion, -a wholly new religion had to be found. This was the opportunity of -Christianity. Paganism, in some of its most sacred rites, had availed -itself even of immoral means to secure a religious end: Christianity -gave to ethics a new and higher status, and was rather in danger of -making religion wholly subservient to morality. That it was difficult -to bring the first converts to the new point of view, is evident from -the rebukes administered by S. Paul to the Corinthians, who seem not -only to have indulged in many gross forms of vice in everyday life, but -even to have made the most sacred of Christian services an occasion for -gluttony and drunkenness[62]. - -In all then that concerns the ethical standards of the people, our -study of modern Greece will contribute little to the understanding of -ancient thought or conduct. Christianity has fenced men about with a -rigid moral code, and has exerted itself to punish those who break -bounds. Duty towards man is now recognised as the complement of duty -towards God; and any one who by a notoriously evil life has outraged -the moral laws of conduct, is liable to be deprived by excommunication -of the established means of worship. The frailties of the Greek -character remain indeed such as they always were: but now religion at -least enjoins, if it cannot always enforce, the observance of a moral -code which includes the eighth commandment, and Pataecion, though he go -regularly to church, yet lacks something. - -But while the Church had an open field in matters of morality and had -no system of ethics based on Hellenic religion to combat in introducing -her higher views of man’s duty towards his fellow-men, in the province -of pure religion and of all that concerns the relations of man with his -God or gods she necessarily encountered competition and opposition. -Primarily the contest between paganism and Christianity might have -been expected to resolve itself into a struggle between polytheism -and monotheism: but as a matter of fact that simple issue became -considerably complicated. - -The minds of the educated classes had become confused by the -subtleties of the Gnostics, who sought to find, in some philosophical -basis common to all religions, an intellectual justification for -accepting Christianity without wholly discarding earlier religious -convictions. This however was a matter of theology rather than of -religion, appealing not to the heart but to the head: and so far as the -common-folk were concerned we may safely say that such speculations -were above their heads. -Yet for them too the issue was confused in two ways. The first -disturbing factor was the attitude adopted by each of the two parties, -pagan and Christian, towards the object of the other’s worship. The -pagans--so catholic are the sympathies of polytheism--were ready enough -to welcome Christ into the number of their gods. Tertullian tells -us that the emperor Tiberius proposed the apotheosis of Christ[63]. -Hadrian is said to have built temples in his honour[64]. Alexander -Severus had in his private chapel statues of Christ, Abraham, and -Orpheus[65]; and a similar association of Homer, Pythagoras, Christ, -and S. Paul is noted by S. Augustine[66]. Since then there is no -reason for supposing that the common-folk were more exclusive in -their religious sympathies than the upper classes, it may safely be -inferred that the average Pagan was willing to admit Christ to a place -among the gods of Greece. The Christians on the other hand did not -attack paganism by an utter denial of the existence of the old gods. -They sought rather to ridicule and discredit them by pointing out -the inconsistencies of pagan theology, and by ransacking mythology -for every tale of the vices and misdoings of its deities. They even -appealed to the testimony of Homer himself to show that the so-called -gods (θεοί) of the Greek folk were mere demons (δαίμονες)[67],--for -since Homer’s day the latter word had lost caste. Such methods, had -they been wholly successful, might have produced similar results to -those which followed the conflict of two religions in the early ages of -Greece. As the Titanic dynasty of gods had fallen before the Olympian -Zeus, and in their defeat had come to be accounted cruel and malicious -powers rightly ousted from heaven by a more just and gracious deity, -so too in turn might the whole number of the pagan gods have been -reduced to the status of devils to act as a foil to the goodness of -the Christian God. But this did not happen. One reason perhaps was -that Christianity came provided with its own devil or devils, and the -pagans were naturally averse from placing the gods whom they had been -wont to venerate in the same category with spirits so uncompromisingly -evil. The main reason however must be found in the fact that the Church -had nothing to offer to the pagans in exchange for the countless -gods of the old religion whom she was endeavouring to displace and -to degrade. Indeed the real difficulty of the Christian Church was -the tolerant spirit of the Greek people. They would not acknowledge -that any feud existed. They were ready to worship the Christian God: -but they must have felt that it was unreasonable of the Christian -missionaries to ask them to give up all their old gods merely because -a new god had been introduced. Even if their gods were all that the -Christians represented them to be--cruel, licentious, unjust--that was -no reason for neglecting them; rather it furnished a stronger motive -for propitiating them and averting their wrath by prayer and sacrifice. -Tolerant themselves, they must have resented a little the intolerance -of the new religion. - -Such being the attitude of the two parties, it may be doubted whether -the Church would have made much headway in Greece, had it not been for -a fresh development in her own conditions. And this development was the -second disturbing factor in what should have been the simple struggle -between monotheism and polytheism. Christianity, as understood by the -masses, became polytheistic on its own account. - -It is true that the authorities of the Greek Church have always taught -that the angels and saints are not to be worshipped in the same sense -as God. Ecclesiastical doctrine concedes to them no power to grant the -petitions of men at their own will: they can act as intermediaries -only between man and the Almighty; yet while they cannot in their -own might fulfil the requests which they hear, their intervention as -messengers to the throne of God is deemed to enhance the value of man’s -prayers and wellnigh to ensure their acceptance. But such a doctrine -is naturally too subtle for the uninstructed common-folk: and just as -Christ had been admitted to the ranks of the Greek gods, so were the -saints, it would seem, accepted as lesser deities or perhaps heroes. -Whatever their precise status may have been, they at any rate became -objects of worship; and a religion which admits many objects of worship -becomes necessarily a form of polytheism. - -Now while the Church did not sanction this state of things by her -doctrine, there can be no doubt that she condoned it by the use to -which she put it. The attempt to crush paganism had so far failed, and -there was no longer any thought of a combat _à outrance_ between the -two religions. Violence was to give way to diplomacy; and the chief -instrument of the Church’s diplomacy was the worship of the saints. It -became her hope to supplant paganism by substituting for the old gods -Christian saints of similar names and functions; and the effects of -this policy are everywhere in evidence in modern Greece. - -Thus Dionysus was displaced by S. Dionysius, as a story still current -in Greece testifies. ‘Once upon a time S. Dionysius was on his way to -Naxos: and as he went he espied a small plant which excited his wonder. -He dug it up, and because the sun was hot sought wherewith to shelter -it. As he looked about, he saw the bone of a bird’s leg, and in this -he put the plant to keep it safe. To his surprise the plant began to -grow, and he sought again a larger covering for it. This time he found -the leg-bone of a lion, and as he could not detach the plant from the -bird’s leg, he put both together in that of the lion. Yet again it -grew and this time he found the leg-bone of an ass and put plant and -all into that. And so he came to Naxos. And when he came to plant the -vine--for the plant was in fact the first vine--he could not sever it -from the bones that sheltered it, but planted them all together. Then -the vine grew and bore grapes and men made wine and drank thereof. And -first when they drank they sang like birds, and when they drank more -they grew strong as lions, and afterwards foolish as asses[68].’ - -The disguise of the ancient god is thin indeed. His name is changed by -an iota, but his character not a jot. S. Dionysius is god of the vine, -and even retains his predecessor’s connexion with Naxos. It is perhaps -noteworthy too that in Athens the road which skirts the south side of -the Acropolis and the theatre of Dionysus is now called the street of -S. Dionysius the Areopagite. I was once corrected by a Greek of average -education for speaking of the theatre of Dionysus instead of ascribing -it to his saintly namesake. - -Demeter again, although as we shall see later she still survives as -a distinct personality, has been for the most part dispossessed by S. -Demetrius. His festival, which falls in October and is therefore remote -from harvest-time, is none the less celebrated with special enthusiasm -among the agricultural classes; marriages too are especially frequent -on that day[69]. - -Similarly Artemis, though she too is still known to the common-folk in -some districts, has in the main handed over her functions to a saint of -the other sex, Artemidos. Theodore Bent has recorded a good instance of -this from the island of Keos (modern Zea). There is a belief throughout -Greece that weakly children who show signs of wasting have been ‘struck -by the Nereids,’--by nymphs, that is, of any kind, whether terrestrial -or marine. ‘In Keos,’ says Bent, ‘S. Artemidos is the patron of these -weaklings, and the church dedicated to him is some little way from the -town on the hill-slopes; thither a mother will take a child afflicted -by any mysterious wasting, “struck by the Nereids,” as they say. She -then strips off its clothes and puts on new ones, blessed by the -priest, leaving the old ones as a perquisite to the Church; and then -if perchance the child grows strong, she will thank S. Artemidos for -the blessing he has vouchsafed, unconscious that by so doing she is -perpetuating the archaic worship of Artemis, to whom in classical times -were attached the epithets παιδοτρόφος, κουροτρόφος, φιλομείραξ; and -now the Ionian idea of the fructifying and nourishing properties of the -Ephesian Artemis has been transferred to her Christian namesake[70].’ -It might have been added that in this custom are reflected not only -those general attributes of the tendance of children which Artemis -shared with many other deities, but possibly also her power to undo any -mischief wrought by her handmaidens, the nymphs[71]. - -Again there is every reason to suppose that S. Elias[72] whose chapels -crown countless hilltops is merely the Christian successor to Helios, -the Sun. The two names, which have only a moderate resemblance in the -nominative, coincide for modern pronunciation in the genitive; and the -frequency with which that case was needed in speaking of the church or -the mountain-peak dedicated to one or the other may have facilitated -the transition. Besides inheriting the mountain sanctuaries at which -the worship of the Sun may have persisted from a very early age, S. -Elias has also taken over the chariot of his predecessor, and thunder -is sometimes attributed to the rolling of its wheels. - -In other cases, without any resemblance of names, identity of -attributes or functions suggested the substitution of saint for pagan -deity. Hermes who in old times was the chief ‘angel’ or messenger -of the immortals (ἄγγελος ἀθανάτων) was naturally succeeded by the -archangel Michael, upon whom therefore devolves the duty of escorting -men’s souls to Hades; and to this day the men of Maina tell how the -archangel, with drawn sword in his hand instead of the wand of his -prototype, may be seen passing to and fro at the mouth of the caves of -Taenarus through which Heracles made his ascent with Cerberus from the -lower world, and which is still the best-known descent thereto. The -supplanting of Hermes by Michael is well illustrated in the sphere of -art also by a curious gem. The design is an ordinary type of Hermes -with his traditional cap, and at his side a cock, the symbol of -vigilance and of gymnastic sport; by a later hand has been engraved -the name ‘Michael’; the cock remained to be interpreted doubtless as -the Christian symbol of the awakening at the last day of them that -sleep[73]. - -The conversion of pagan temples or of their sites to the purposes of -Christianity tells the same tale. The virgin goddess of Athens ceded -the Parthenon to the Blessed Virgin of the Christians. The so-called -Theseum, whether Theseus or Heracles was its original occupant, was -fitly made over to the warrior S. George: but none the less what seems -to have been an old pagan festival, known as the ρουσάλια (Latin -_rosalia_)[74], continues to this day to be celebrated with dancing and -feasting in its precincts. The Church of the Annunciation at Tenos, so -famous throughout the Greek world for its miracles of healing, stands -on the foundations of Poseidon’s ancient sanctuary, and includes in -its precincts a holy spring (ἅγι̯ασμα) whose healing virtues, we can -hardly doubt, were first discovered by the pagans: for Poseidon was -worshipped in Tenos under the title of the ‘healer’ (ἰατρός)[75]. -Indeed throughout the length and breadth of the land the traveller -will find churches built with the material of the old temples or -superimposed upon their foundation, and cannot fail to detect therein -evidence of a deliberate policy on the part of the Church. - -But in her attempts to be conciliatory she became in fact compromised. -It was politic no doubt to encourage the weaker brethren by building -churches on sites where they had long been wont to worship: it was -politic to smooth the path of the common-folk by substituting for the -god whom they had worshipped a patron-saint of like name or attributes. -But in so doing the Church practically condoned polytheism. She drove -out the old gods from their temples made with hands, but did not ensure -the obliteration of them from men’s hearts. The saints whom she set -up in the place of the old deities were certain to acquire the rank -of gods in the estimation of the people and, despite the niceties of -ecclesiastical doctrine, to become in fact objects of frank and open -worship. The adoption of the old places of worship made it inevitable -that the old associations of the pagan cults should survive and blend -themselves with the new ideas, and that the churches should more often -acquire prestige from their heathen sites than themselves shed a new -lustre of sanctity upon them. In effect, paganism was not uprooted to -make room for the planting of Christianity, but served rather as an -old stock on which a new and vigorous branch, capable indeed of fairer -fruit but owing its very vitality to alien sap, might be engrafted. - -Bitterly and despondently did the early Fathers of the Church, and -above all S. John Chrysostom, complain of the inveteracy of pagan -customs within the pale of the Church, while a kind of official -recognition was given to many superstitions which were clearly outside -that pale, if only by the many forms of exorcism directed against -the evil eye or prescribed for the cure of those possessed by pagan -powers of evil[76]. For illustration we need not fall back upon the -past history of the Greek Church; even to-day she has not succeeded in -living down the consequences of her whilom policy of conciliation. -The common-folk indeed profess and call themselves Christian; their -priesthood is a Christian priesthood; their places of worship are -Christian churches; they make the sign of the cross at every turn; -and the names of God and Christ and the Virgin are their commonest -ejaculations. But with all this external Christianity they are as pagan -and as polytheistic in their hearts as were ever their ancestors. -By their acceptance of Christianity they have increased rather than -diminished their number of gods: in their conception of them and -attitude towards them they have made little advance since the Homeric -Age: and practically all the religious customs most characteristic of -ancient paganism, such as sacrifice, the taking of auspices, and the -consultation of oracles, continue with or without the sanction of the -Church down to the present day. - -These are strong statements to make concerning even the humblest and -most ignorant members of the Holy Orthodox Church: but I shall show, I -think, that they do not exceed the warranty of facts. - -First of all then the peasant believes himself to be ever compassed -about by a host of supernatural beings, who have no relation with his -Christian faith, and some of whom he unconsciously acknowledges, by the -very names that he applies to them, as ‘pagan’ beings and ‘outside’ the -Christian fold[77]. To all of these--and they are a motley crew, gods -and demons, fairies and dragons--he assigns severally and distinctly -their looks, their dispositions, their habitations, and their works. To -some of them he prays and makes offerings; against others he arms and -fortifies himself in the season of their maleficence; but all of them, -whether for good or ill, are to him real existent beings; no phantoms -conjured up by trepidation of mind, but persons whose substance is -proved by sight and hearing and touch. - -Nothing is more amazing in the peasantry of modern Greece than their -familiarity with these various beings. More than once I have overheard -two peasants comparing notes on the ghostly fauna of their respective -districts; and the intimate and detailed character of their knowledge -was a revelation in regard to their powers of visualisation. It is the -mountaineers and the mariners who excel in this; but even the duller -folk of the lowlands see much that is hidden from foreign eyes. Once -however I did see a nymph--or what my guide took for one--moving -about in an olive-grove near Sparta; and I must confess that had I -possessed an initial faith in the existence of nymphs and in the -danger of looking upon them, so lifelike was the apparition that I -might have sworn as firmly as did my guide that it was a nymph that we -had seen, and might have required as strong a dose as he at the next -inn to restore my nerves. The initial faith in such things, which the -child acquires from its mother, is no doubt an important factor in the -visualisation; but it is certainly strange that often in Greece not -one man only but several together will see an apparition at the same -moment, and even agree afterwards as to what they saw. - -These beings then are not the mere fanciful figures of old wives’ -fables, but have a real hold upon the peasant’s belief and a firm place -in his religion. To the objects of Christian worship or veneration--God -and Christ and the Virgin together with the archangels and all the host -of saints--have been accorded the highest places and chiefest honours: -but beside them, or rather below them, yet feared and honoured too, -stand many of the divine personalities of the old faith, recognised and -distinguished still. Artemis, Demeter, and Charon, as well as Nymphs -and Gorgons, Lamiae and Centaurs, have to be reckoned with in the -conduct of life; while in folk-stories the memory at least of other -deities still survives. To these remnants of ancient mythology the -next chapter will be devoted; the purely pagan element in the modern -polytheism may be sufficiently illustrated here by a few curious cases -of the use even of the word ‘god’ (θεός) in reference to other than the -God of Christendom. - -In Athens, down to recent times, there was a fine old formula of -blessing in vogue--and who shall say but that among the simpler people -it may still be heard?--which combined impartially the one God and the -many:--νὰ ς’ ἀξιῶσῃ ὁ Θεὸς νὰ εὐχαριστήσῃς θεοὺς καὶ ἀνθρώπους[78], -‘God fit thee to find favour with gods and men!’ In the island of -Syra, according to Bent[79], it was ‘a common belief amongst the -peasants that the ghosts of the ancient Greeks come once a year from -all parts of Greece to worship at Delos, ... and even to-day they -will reverently speak of the “god in Delos.”’ Another writer mentions -a similar expression as used in several parts of the mainland, though -only it would seem as an ejaculation, θεὲ τῆς Κρήτης or γιὰ τὸ θεὸ -τῆς Κρήτης ‘by the god of Crete[80]!’ In the island of Santorini (the -ancient Thera) I personally encountered a still more striking case -of out-spoken polytheism. I chanced one day upon a very old woman -squatting on the extreme edge of the cliff above the great flooded -crater which, though too deep for anchorage, serves the main town of -the island as harbour--a place more fascinating in its hideousness than -any I have seen. Wondering at her dangerous position, I asked her what -she was doing; and she replied simply enough that she was making rain. -It was two years since any had fallen, and as she had the reputation -of being a witch of unusual powers and had procured rain in previous -droughts, she had been approached by several of the islanders who were -anxious for their vineyards. Moreover she had been prepaid for her -work--a fact which spoke most eloquently for the general belief in -her; for the Greek is slow enough (as doubtless she knew) to pay for -what he has got, and never prepays what he is not sure of getting. -True, her profession had its risks, she said; for on one occasion, the -only time that her spells had failed, some of her disappointed clients -whose money she had not returned tried to burn her house over her one -night while she slept. But business was business. Did I want some rain -too? To ensure her good will and further conversation, I invested a -trifle, and tried to catch the mumbled incantations which followed -on my behalf. Of these however beyond a frequent invocation of the -Virgin (Παναγία μου) and a few words about water and rain I could catch -nothing; but I must acknowledge that her charms were effectual, for -before we parted the thunder was already rolling in the distance, and -the rain which I had bought spoilt largely the rest of my stay in the -island. The incantations being finished, she became more confidential. -She would not of course let a stranger know the exact formula which she -employed; that would mar its efficacy: she vouchsafed to me however -with all humility the information that it was not by her own virtue -that she caused the rain, but through knowing ‘the god above and -the god below’ (τὸν ἄνω θεὸ καὶ τὸν κάτω θεό). The latter indeed had -long since given up watering the land; he had caused shakings of the -earth and turned even the sea-water red. The god above also had once -rained ashes when she asked for water, but generally he gave her rain, -sometimes even in summer-time. One thing she could not make out--who -was the god that caused the thunder; did I know? I evaded the question, -and our theological discussion went no further, for the god of thunder -was making his voice heard more threateningly, and the old witch would -not stay to make his acquaintance at closer quarters. - -The physical interpretation of these references to the god above and -the god below is not difficult. At the present day there are said to -be three springs, and three only, in the whole island; nor are they of -much use to the inhabitants; indeed the only one which I saw was dry -save for a scanty moisture barely sufficient to keep the rock about -it green and mossy: and in fact the population depends entirely upon -rain-water stored up in large underground cisterns or reservoirs. -Clearly the god below no longer gives water; but that there may have -been more spring-water prior to the great eruptions of 1866 is very -probable; for the people still call certain dry old torrent-beds by -which the island is intersected ‘rivers’ (ποταμοί), and real rivers -with water in them figure also in several of the local folk-stories. -The perversity of the god above in sending ashes on one occasion -instead of rain may also be understood in reference to the same -eruptions, of which the old woman gave me a vivid description. - -But the theology itself is more interesting than its material basis. -This witch--a good Christian, they told me, but a little mad, with a -madness however of which sane vine-growers were eager enough to avail -themselves--acknowledged certainly three gods: the unknown thunder-god -was clearly distinct from the god of the rain who was known to her: and -there was also the god of the waters under the earth, in whose service -she had perhaps followed the calling of a water-finder, and to whom she -ascribed, as did the ancients to Poseidon, the shaking of the earth. - -Polytheism then even in its purely pagan form is not yet extinct in -Greece. In the disguise of Christianity, we shall see, it is everywhere -triumphant. - -Among the Christian objects of worship--for I have already explained -that by the common-folk the saints are worshipped as deities--the -Trinity and the Virgin occupy the highest places, rivalled perhaps -here and there by some local saint of great repute for miracles, but -nowhere surpassed. It is the Virgin indeed who, in Pashley’s opinion, -‘is throughout Greece the chief object of the Christian peasant’s -worship[81]’; and certainly, I think, more numerous and more various -petitions are addressed to her than to any person of the Trinity or -to any saint. But the Trinity, or at any rate God (ὁ Θεός) and Christ -(ὁ Χριστός), as the peasants say,--for the Holy Ghost is hardly a -personality to them and is rarely named except in doxologies and formal -invocations--are of almost equal importance, and are so closely allied -with the Virgin that it is difficult to draw distinctions. - -But while the Church has thus secured the first place for her most -venerated figures, the influence of pagan feeling is clearly seen in -the popular conception of this ‘God.’ His position is just such as -that of Zeus in the old _régime_. He is little more than the unnamed -ruler among many other divinities. His sway is indeed supreme and he -exercises a general control; but his functions are in a certain sense -limited none the less, and his special province is the weather only. -Ζεὺς ὕει, said the ancients, and the moderns re-echo their thought in -words of the same import, βρέχει ὁ Θεός, ‘God is raining,’ or ὁ Θεὸς -ῥίχνει νερό, ‘God is throwing water[82].’ So too the coming and going -of the daylight is described as an act of God; ἔφεξε, or ἐβράδει̯ασε, -ὁ Θεός, say the peasants, ‘God has dawned’ or ‘has darkened.’ When it -hails, it is God who ‘is plying his sieve,’ ῥεμμονίζει[83] ὁ Θεός. -When it thunders, ‘God is shoeing his horse,’ καλιγώνει τ’ ἄλογό του, -or, according to another version[84], ‘the hoofs of God’s horse are -ringing,’ βροντοῦν τὰ πέταλα ἀπὸ τ’ ἄλογο τοῦ Θεοῦ. Or again the roll -of the thunder sometimes suggests quite another idea; ‘God is rolling -his wine-casks,’ ὁ Θεὸς κυλάει τ’ ἀσκιά του[85], or τὰ πιθάρι̯α του. -And once again, because a Greek wedding cannot be celebrated without a -large expenditure of gunpowder, the booming of the thunder suggests to -some that ‘God is marrying his son’ or ‘God is marrying his daughters,’ -ὁ Θεὸς παντρεύει τὸν ὑγιό του[86], or ταὶς θυγατέραις του[87]. - -Such expressions as these[88] are in daily use among the Greek -peasantry: and nothing could reveal more frankly the purely pagan -and anthropomorphic conception of God which everywhere prevails. The -God of Christendom is indistinguishable from the Zeus of Homer. A -line from a Cretan distich, in which God is described as ἐκεῖνος ἀποῦ -συννεφιᾷ κι’ ἀποβροντᾷ καὶ βρέχει[89], ‘He that gathereth the clouds -and thundereth and raineth,’ exhibits a popular conception of the chief -deity unchanged since Zeus first received the epithets νεφεληγερέτης -and ὑψιβρεμέτης, ‘cloud-gatherer,’ ‘thunderer on high.’ - -But even in the province of the weather God has not undivided control. -The winds are often regarded as persons acting at their own will; and -of the north wind in particular men speak with respect as Sir Boreas -(ὁ κὺρ Βορε̯άς), for as in Pindar’s time he is still ‘king of the -winds[90].’ So too the whirlwind is the passing of the Nereids, and the -water-spout marks the path of the Lamia of the sea. Even the thunder -is not always the work of God, but some say that the prophet Elias is -‘driving his chariot,’ or ‘pursuing the dragon.’ The more striking and -irregular phenomena in short are governed by the caprice of lesser -deities--Christian saints or pagan powers--while God directs the more -orderly march of nature. - -When however we turn from the external world to the life of man, we -find the functions of the supreme God even more closely circumscribed -or--to put it in another way--more generally delegated to others. The -daily course of human life with all its pursuits and passions is under -the joint control of the saints and some of the old Hellenic deities. -Of the latter, as I have said, another chapter must treat: but it -should be remembered that the peasant does not draw a hard and fast -line of distinction between the two classes with whom for clearness’ -sake I am bound to deal separately. Thus Charon in many of the -folk-songs which celebrate his doings is made to represent himself as a -messenger of God, charged with the duty of carrying off some man’s soul -and unable to grant a respite[91]. He is occasionally addressed even -as Saint Charon[92]; and his name constantly occurs in the epitaphs of -country churchyards. A story too in Bernhard Schmidt’s collection[93] -illustrates well the way in which pagan and Christian elements are thus -interwoven:-- - -‘There was once an old man who had been good his whole life through. In -his old age therefore he had the fortune to see his good angel (ὁ καλὸς -ἄγγελός του); who said to him--for he loved him well--“I will tell thee -how thou mayest be fortunate. In such and such a hill is a cave; go -thou in there and ever onward till thou comest to a great castle. Knock -at the gate, and when it is opened to thee thou wilt see a tall woman -before thee, who will straightway welcome thee and ask thee of thine -age and business and estate. Answer only that thou art sent by me: then -will she know the rest.” Even so did the old man: and the woman within -the earth gave unto him a tablecloth and bade him but spread it out and -say “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,” -and lo! everything that he wished would be found thereon. And thus it -came to pass. - -‘Now when the old man had oft made use of it, it came into his heart to -bid the king unto his house: who, when he saw the wonder-working cloth, -took it from the old man. But because he was no virtuous man, the cloth -did not its task in his hands; wherefore he threw it out of the window -and straightway it turned to dust. So the old man went again to the -woman in the hill, and she gave him this time a hen that laid a golden -egg every day. When the king heard thereof, he had the hen too taken -away from the old man. Howbeit in his keeping she laid not, and so he -threw the hen also out of window, and she likewise turned to dust. So -in his anger he bade seize the old man forthwith and cut off his head. - -‘But scarce was this done when there appeared before the king the -Mistress of the Earth and of the Sea--for she was the woman in the -hill--and when she had told him in brief words what awaited him after -this life in requital for his wickedness, she stamped with her foot -upon the ground, which swallowed up the castle with the king and all -that was therein. But the old man that was slain had entered into -Paradise.’ - -In this story the Mistress of the Earth and of the Sea (ἡ κυρὰ τσῆ -γῆς καὶ τσῆ θαλάσσης) is, as we shall see later[94], none other than -Demeter: but pagan as she is, she works in accord with the good angel -(who is evidently her inferior), and orders the old man to invoke the -Trinity. - -Thus the peasant does not conceive of any antagonism between his pagan -and his Christian objects of worship; and both classes are equally -deserving of study by those interested in ancient Greek religion. -For while every minutest trait or detail of the modern peasant’s -conception of those ancient deities, who, though despoiled of temples -and organised worship, still survive, may throw some new ray of light -on the divine personalities and the myths of old time, yet a more -broad and comprehensive view of the outlines of ancient religion may -be obtained by contemplating the worship of Christian saints who, -though deficient often in personal significance, nevertheless by their -possession of dedicated shrines and of all the apparatus of a formal -cult occupy more exactly the position of the old gods and heroes. - -The saints then, as I have remarked above, have a large share in the -control of man’s daily life. The whole religious sense of the people -seems to demand a delegation of the powers of one supreme God to many -lesser deities, who, for the very reason perhaps that they are lower -in the scale of godhead, are more accessible to man. Under the name of -saints lies, hardly concealed, the notion of gods. In mere nomenclature -Christianity has had its way; but none of the old tendencies of -paganism have been checked. The current of worship has been turned -towards many new personalities; but the essence of that worship is the -same. The Church would have its saints be merely mediators with the one -God; but popular feeling has made of them many gods; their locality and -scope of action are defined in exactly the old way; vows are made to -the patron-saint of such and such a place; invocations are addressed -to him in virtue of a designated power or function. - -Local titles are often derived merely from the town or district in -which the church stands, as Our Lady of Tenos, or S. Gerasimos of -Cephalonia. In other cases they have reference to the surroundings -of the sanctuary. The chapel of the Virgin in the monastery of -Megaspelaeon consists of a large cave at the foot of some towering -cliffs, and the dedication is to our Lady of the Golden Cave (Παναγία -χρυσοσπηλαιώτισσα). In this case the word ‘golden’ is an imaginative -addition, for the interior is peculiarly dark: but the dedication has -been borrowed, owing to the repute of the original shrine, by churches -which have not even a cave to show. In Amorgos S. George has the title -of Balsamites, derived from the balsam which covers the hill-side on -which stands his church. In Paros several curious dedications are -mentioned by Bent, which he renders as Our Lady of the Lake, Our Lady -of the Unwholesome Place, and S. George of the Gooseberry[95]. In -Athens there is a church of which the present dedication is said to be -due to a fire which blackened the _icon_ of the Virgin, who is known -on this account as Our smoke-blackened Lady (Παναγία καπνικαρέα), or, -it may be, Our Lady of the smoky head, according as the second half of -the compound is connected with the Turkish word for ‘black’ or the now -obsolete Greek word κάρα, ‘head[96].’ - -Titles denoting functions are equally numerous and quaint. In Rhodes -the Archangel Michael is invoked as πατητηριώτης, patron of the -wine-press[97]. S. Nicolas, who has supplanted Poseidon, often assumes -the simple title of ‘sailor’ (ναύτης). S. John the Hunter (κυνηγός) -owns a monastery on Mt Hymettus. In Cimolus there is a church of Our -Guiding Lady (Παναγία ὁδηγήτρια)[98]. SS. Costas and Damien, the -physicians, are known as the Moneyless (ἀνάργυροι), because their -services are given gratis. S. George at Argostóli has been dubbed the -Drunkard (μεθυστής)[99]--thus furnishing a notable parallel to the -hero celebrated in old time at Munychia as ἀκρατοπότης[100]--because -on his day, Nov. 3rd, the new wine is commonly tapped and there is much -drinking in his honour. - -In other cases the actual name of the saint has determined his powers -or character without further epithet. S. Therapon is invoked for all -kinds of healing (θεραπεύειν): S. Eleutherios (with an echo possibly -of Eilythuia) to give deliverance (ἐλευθερία) to women in childbirth: -S. James, in Melos, owing to a phonetic corruption of Ἰάκωβος into -Ἄκουφος, to cure deafness[101]. S. Elias, the successor of the sun-god -(ἥλιος), has power over drought and rain. S. Andrew (Ἀνδρέας) is -implored to make weakly children ‘strong’ (ἀνδρειωμένος). S. Maura, in -Athens, requires that no sewing be done on her day under pain of warts -(locally known as μαύραις), which if incurred can only be cured by an -application of oil from her lamp[102]. S. Tryphon resents any twisting -(στρήφω) of thread, as in spinning, on his day; and on the festival of -S. Symeon expectant mothers must touch no utensil of daily toil, above -all nothing black; for S. Symeon ‘makes marks’ (ὁ Ἄϊ Συμεὼν σημειόνει), -and a birth-mark would inevitably appear on the child. If however a -woman offend unwittingly, she must lay her hands at once on that part -of the body where the birth-mark will be least disfiguring to the child. - -These are only a small selection of the saints whom the peasant seeks -to propitiate, and it may be noted in passing that among them there -are some characters, as among the ancient deities, either immoral as -S. George the Drunkard, or unamiable as S. Maura, S. Tryphon, and S. -Symeon. But a better idea of the multitude of the popular deities may -perhaps be conveyed by giving a list of those worshipped in a single -island with the functions there ascribed to them. Here is the catalogue -given by a native of Cythnos[103]. The Virgin (Παναγία) is invoked on -any and every occasion, and the SS. Anargyri (Costas and Damien) in -all cases of illness. S. Panteleëmon is a specialist in eye-diseases, -S. Eleutherios in obstetrics, S. Modestes in veterinary work, S. -Vlasios in ulcers etc. S. Charalampes and S. Varvara (Βαρβάρα) deliver -from pestilences, and S. Elias from drought. The power of protecting -children from ailments is ascribed to S. Stylianos, and that of saving -sailors from the perils of the sea to S. Nicolas, S. Sostes, and the -SS. Akindyni (ἀκίνδυνοι). S. Tryphon deals with noxious insects, S. -John the Baptist with ague, S. Menas with loss of goods, S. Paraskeve -(Friday) with headache: while S. Aekaterine (Catherine) and S. -Athanasios assist anxious mothers to marry off their daughters. - -As in the multiplicity of the objects of worship, so too in the mental -attitude of the worshipper, there is little change since first were -written the words δῶρα θεοὺς πείθει, ‘Gifts win the gods.’ There are -certain great occasions, it is true, now as in old days, on which -religious feeling attains a higher level, and the mercenary expectation -of blessings is forgotten in whole-hearted adoration of the blesser. -But in general a spirit of bargaining tempers the peasant’s prayer, and -a return is required for services rendered. A sketch of the religious -sentiments of the Sphakiotes given by the head of a Cretan monastery -is worth reproducing, for it is typical of the whole Greek folk. ‘The -faith,’ he writes, ‘of these highlanders in Jesus Christ is sincere -in every way, reverent, deep-seated, and unshaken, but unfortunately -it is not free from superstitious fancies which mar this otherwise -great merit. Many of them are fully persuaded that God, Our Lady, and -the Saints go to and fro unseen above their heads, watch each man’s -actions, and take part in his quarrels, like the gods of Homer. They -are under an obligation to work constant miracles, to vindicate and -avenge, to listen readily to each man’s requests and petitions, whether -they be just or no. Many of the people go off cattle-lifting or on -other wrongful enterprises, and at the same time call upon Our Lady, -or any other saints of repute as wonder-workers, to assist them, and -as payment for success promise them gifts! To some of the Saints they -attribute greater power and grace than to the God who glorified them. -In the same way they show greater reverence for this or that church or -_icon_, and bring presents from great distances, in the belief that it -has miraculous powers, without understanding that Faith works miracles -equally in all places[104].’ - -Such is the verdict of an educated priest of the Greek Church who -deplores the polytheism and idolatry of the common-folk among whom -he lives, and who in so doing speaks with the authority of intimate -knowledge. Nor can the justice of the verdict be questioned by any one -who has entered one of the more highly reputed churches of Greece and -observed the votive offerings which adorn or disfigure it. For these -offerings are of two qualities just as the motives which inspire them -are twofold. There are the genuine thank-offerings, selected for their -beauty or worth, which commemorate gratefully some blessing received; -of such the treasury of the Church of the Annunciation in Tenos is -full--gold and silver plate, bibles and service-books in rich bindings -studded with jewels, embroideries of Oriental silk unmatched in skill -and splendour. But there is another class, the propitiatory offerings -designed to place the offerer in a special way under the protection of -the saint. Most characteristic among these are the shreds of infected -clothing sent by some sick person to the church of the particular saint -whose healing power he invokes. Just as in the province of magic the -possession of a strip of a man’s clothing gives to the witch a control -over his whole person, so in the religious sphere the dedication of -some disease-laden rag from the body of the sufferer places him under -the special care of the saint. In the church of ‘S. John of the Column’ -at Athens the ancient pillar round which the edifice has been built is -always garnished with dirty rags affixed by a daub of candle-grease; -and if the saint cures those who send these samples of their fevers, he -must certainly kill some of those who visit his sanctuary in person. -To this class of offerings belong also the bulk of the silver-foil -trinkets which are so cheap that the poorest peasant can afford one -for his tribute, and so abundant that at Tenos out of this supply of -metal alone have been fashioned the massive silver candelabra which -light the whole church. These trinkets are models of any object which -the worshipper wishes to commend to the special attention of the saint. -At Tenos they most frequently represent parts of the human body, -for there the Virgin is above all a goddess of healing; but a vast -assortment of models of other objects committed to her care may also -be seen--horses and mules, agricultural implements, boats, sheaves -of corn to represent the harvest, bunches of grapes in emblem of the -vintage; there is no limit to the variety; anything for which a man -craves the saint’s blessing is thus symbolically confided to her -keeping. Doubtless among them there are a number of thank-offerings for -mercies already received; I remember in particular a realistic model -of a Greek coasting steamer with a list attached giving the names of -the captain and crew who dedicated it in gratitude for deliverance from -shipwreck. It may even be that some few of the models of eyes and limbs -are thank-offerings for cures effected, and in beauty or worth are all -that the peasant’s artistic sense desires or his purse affords. But the -majority of them, as I have said, are the gifts of those whose prayers -are not yet answered and who thus keep before the eyes of the saint the -maladies which crave her healing care. - -Other offerings again may be dedicated with either motive. Candles -and incense are equally suited to win a favour or to repay one. But -whether the motive be propitiation or gratitude, the whole system is a -legacy of the pagan world and permeated with the spirit of paganism. -Everywhere the Christian disguise of the old religion is easily -penetrable; the Church for instance has forbidden the use of graven -images, and only in one or two places do statues or even reliefs -survive: but the painted _icons_ which are provided in their stead -satisfy equally well the common-folk’s instinct for idolatry. - -Vows conditional upon the answering of some prayer usually conform -outwardly at least to Christian requirements. Scores of the small -chapels with which the whole country is dotted have been built in -payment of such a vow; and often a boy may be seen dressed in a -miniature priest’s costume, because in some illness his mother devoted -him to the service of God or of some saint for a number of years if -only he should recover. But the idea of bargaining by vows is more -pagan than Christian, and sometimes indeed an even clearer echo of -ancient thought is heard, as when a girl vows to the Virgin a silver -girdle if she will lay her in her lover’s arms[105]. - -Miracles again are expected of the higher powers in return for man’s -services to them; for as the proverb runs, ἅγιος ποῦ δὲν θαυματουργεῖ, -δὲν δοξάζεται, ‘it is a sorry saint who works no wonders.’ And wonders -are worked as the people expect--some in appearance, some in fact. - -A sham miracle is annually worked by the priests of a church near Volo -in Thessaly. Within the walls, still easily traced, of the old town -of Demetrias on a spur of Mount Pelion stands an unfinished church -dedicated to the Virgin. Here on the Friday after Easter there is a -concourse from all Thessaly to see the miracle. At the east end of the -church, on the outside, a square tank has been sunk ten or twelve feet -below the level of the church floor, exposing, on the side formed by -the church wall, ancient foundations--perhaps of some temple where the -same miracle was worked two thousand years ago. The miracle consists in -the filling of this tank with water; but seeing that under the floor -of the church itself there are cisterns to which a shaft in each aisle -descends, and that the tank outside, sunk, as has been said, to a lower -level, undisguisedly derives its water from a hole in the foundations -of the church, there is less of the marvellous in the fact that the -priests by opening some sluice fill the tank than in the simple faith -with which the throng from all parts presses to obtain a cupful of the -miraculously fertilizing but withal muddy liquid. The women drink it, -the men carry it home to sprinkle a few drops on cornfield or vineyard. - -Genuine miracles, at any rate of healing, seem to be well established. -After personal investigation and enquiry at the great festival of -Tenos I concluded that some faith-cures had actually occurred. Some -travellers[106] indeed have been inclined to scoff at these miracles -and to write them down mere fabrications of interested priests. But in -an official ‘Description of some of the miracles of the wonder-working -_icon_ of the Annunciation in Tenos’ the total number claimed down to -the year 1898 is only forty-four, that is to say not an average even -of one a year; and a large majority of the cases detailed--including -twelve cases of mental derangement, eleven of blindness, and ten of -paralysis, none of them congenital,--might I suppose come under the -category of nervous diseases for which a faith-cure is possible; while -several of the remainder, such as the case of a man who at first sight -of the _icon_ coughed up a fish bone which had stuck in his throat -for two years, do not pass the bounds of belief; and even if the -priests do sometimes set false or exaggerated rumours afloat, it must -be conceded that the peasant, who has faith enough to believe their -stories, has also faith enough, if faith-cures ever occur, to render -such a cure possible in his case. Indeed no one who has been to the -great centres of miraculous healing can fail to be impressed by the -unquailing faith of the pilgrims. Year by year they come in their -thousands, bringing the maimed and the halt and the blind, and, more -pitiful still, the hopelessly deformed, for whose healing a miracle -indeed were needed. Year by year these are laid to sleep in the church -or in its precincts on the eve of the festival. Year by year they are -carried where the shadow of the _icon_ as it passes in procession may -perchance fall on them. Year by year they are sprinkled with water from -the holy spring. And year by year most of them depart as they came, -maimed and halt and blind and horribly misshapen. Yet faith abides -undimmed; hope still blossoms; and they go again and again until they -earn another release than that which they crave. The very dead, it is -said, have ere now been brought from neighbouring islands, but the -_icon_ has not raised them up. There are but few indeed whose faith -has made them whole; but for my part I do not doubt that a boy’s sight -was restored at Tenos in the year that I was there (1899), or that -similar occurrences are well established at such shrines as that of the -Virgin at Megaspelaeon, of S. George in Scyros, or of S. Gerasimos in -Cephalonia. - -Closely bound up with these miraculous cures is the old pagan practice -of ἐγκοίμησις, sleeping in the sanctuary of the god whose healing -touch is sought. At Tenos the majority of the pilgrims who come for -the festival of Lady-day can only afford to stop for the one night -which precedes it. The sight then is strange indeed. The whole floor -of the church and a great part of the courtyard outside is covered -with recumbent worshippers. With them they have brought mattresses and -blankets for those of the sick for whom a stone floor is too hard; by -their side is piled baggage of all descriptions, cooking utensils, -loaves of bread, jars of wine or water, everything in fact necessary -for a long night’s watch or slumber. And on this mass of close-packed -suffering worshippers the doors of the church are locked from nine in -the evening till early next morning. Shortly before the closing-hour I -picked my way with difficulty in the dim light over prostrate forms -from the south to the north door. The atmosphere was suffocating and -reeked with the smoke of wax tapers which all day long the pilgrims had -been burning before the _icon_. Every malady and affliction seemed to -be represented; the moaning and coughing never stopped: and I wondered, -not whether there would be any miraculous cures, but how many deaths -there would be in the six or seven hours of confinement before even the -doors were again opened. - -But this is the practice at its worst. Where there is more time -available, there is nothing insanitary in it. In the list of cures -at Tenos, to which I have alluded, there are many cases in which the -patient spent not one night only but several months in the church. As a -typical case I may take that of a sailor who while keeping look-out on -a steamer in the harbour of Patras had some kind of paralytic seizure. -He was taken to Tenos and for four months suffered terribly. Then about -midday at Easter he had fallen asleep and heard a voice bidding him -rise. He woke up and asked those about him who had called him; they -said no one; so he slept again. This happened twice. The third time -on hearing the voice he opened his eyes and saw entering the church a -woman of unspeakable beauty and brilliance, and at the shock he rose to -his feet and began to walk; and the same day accompanied the festival -procession round the town to the astonishment of all the people. - -When I was in Scyros I heard of an equally curious case of a -long-deferred cure which had recently taken place and was the talk of -the town. For seven consecutive years a man from Euboea had brought -his wife, who was mad, to the church of S. George to ‘sleep in’ for -forty days. Shortly before I arrived the last of these periods was -just drawing to a close, when one night both the man and his wife saw -a vision of S. George who came and laid his hand on her head; and in -the morning she woke sane. Of her sanity when I saw her--for they -were still in the island, paying, I think, some vow which the man had -made--I had no doubt; and the evidence of the people of the place who -for seven years previously had seen her mad seemed irrefragable. - -The instances which I have cited are from the records of churches which -have succeeded to the reputation possessed by Epidaurus in antiquity. -These owing to the enthusiasm which their fame inspires are probably -the scenes of more faith-cures than humbler and less known sanctuaries. -But in every church throughout the land the observance of the custom -may occasionally be seen; for in the less civilised districts at any -rate it is among the commonest remedies for childish ailments for a -mother to pass the night with her child in the village church. - -We shall notice in later chapters the remnants of other pagan -institutions which the Greek Church has harboured--an oracle -established in a Christian chapel and served by a priest--a -church-festival at which sacrifice is done and omens are read--the -survival of ancient ‘mysteries’ in the dramatic celebration of Good -Friday and Easter. For the present enough has been said to show that, -even within the domain of what is nominally Christian worship, the -peasant of to-day in his conception of the higher powers and in his -whole attitude towards them remains a polytheist and a pagan. And as in -this aspect of religion, so in that other which concerns men’s care for -the dead and their conception of the future life, the persistence of -pagan beliefs and customs is constantly manifest. The ancient funeral -usages are undisturbed; and in the dirges which form part of them the -heaven and the hell of Christianity seem almost unknown: ‘the lower -world’ (ὁ κάτω κόσμος), over which rules neither God nor the Devil but -Charon, is the land to which all men alike are sped. - -But there is no need to dilate upon these matters yet. It is clear -enough already, I hope, that the fact of Greece being nominally a -Christian country should not preclude the hope of finding there -instructive survivals of paganism. The Church did not oust her -predecessor. By a policy of conciliation and compromise she succeeded -indeed in imposing upon Hellenic religion the name of Christianity -and the Christian code of morality and all the external appanages -of Christian worship: but in the essentials of religion proper she -deferred largely to the traditional sentiments of the race. She -utilised the sanctuaries which other associations had rendered holy; -she permitted or adopted as her own the methods by which men had -approached and entreated other gods than hers; she condoned polytheism -by appropriating the shrines of gods whom men had been wont to worship -to the service of saints whom they inevitably would worship as gods -instead; and even so she failed to suppress altogether the ejected -deities. The result is that for the peasant Christianity is only a -part of a larger scheme of religion. To the outside observer it may -appear that there are two distinct departments of popular religion, -the one nominally Christian, devoted to the service of God and the -Saints, provided with sanctuaries and all the apparatus of worship, -served by a regular priesthood, limited by dogma and system; the other -concerned with those surviving deities of pre-Christian Greece to -whom we must next turn, free in respect of its worship alike from the -intervention of persons and the limitations of place, obedient only to -a traditional lore which each may interpret by his own feelings and -augment by his own experience. But the peasant seems hardly sensible of -any such contrast. His Christian and his pagan deities consort amicably -together; prayer and vow and offering are made to both, now to avert -their wrath, now to cajole them into kindness; the professed prophets -of either sort, the priests and the witches, are endowed with kindred -powers; everywhere there is overlapping and intertwining. And when the -very authorities of the Greek Church have adopted or connived at so -much of pagan belief and custom, how should the common-folk distinguish -any longer the twin elements in their blended faith? Their Christianity -has become homogeneous with their paganism, and it is the religious -spirit inherited from their pagan ancestors by which both alike are -animated. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] VIII. 38. 7. - -[2] _Oneirocr._ II. 34 and 37. - -[3] i.e. (ὀμ)μάτι(ον), diminutive of ὄμμα. - -[4] Also locally βιστυρι̯ά, a word whose origin I cannot trace. - -[5] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχελάου, ἡ Σινασός, p. 90. - -[6] Theocr. _Id._ VI. 39. - -[7] Sonnini de Magnoncourt, _Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie_, vol. II. -p. 99. - -[8] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 360, cf. Καμπούρογλου, -Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, vol. III. p. 146. - -[9] In Athens, among other places, cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν -Ἀθηναίων, vol. III. p. 69. - -[10] Verg. _Ecl._ III. 103. - -[11] In Sinasos the rule is strict in regard to both, cf. Ἰ. Σ. -Ἀρχελάου, ἡ Σινασός, pp. 83, 93. - -[12] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, vol. III. p. 146. - -[13] _Ibid._ p. 64. - -[14] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, vol. III. p. 41. - -[15] The Church of the Annunciation, for example, in Tenos, possesses -an ἅγι̯ασμα as well as its miraculous _icon_. This spring was in high -repute before the _icon_ was discovered, cf. Μαυρομαρᾶ, Ἱστ. τῆς Τήνου, -p. 102 (a translation of Salonis, _Voyage à Tine_ (Paris 1809)). The -_icon_ was discovered only just before the Greek War of Independence. - -[16] Καμπούρογλου, Μνημεῖα τῆς Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, vol. III. p. 5. - -[17] The banishment of suffering etc. to the mountains is an idea to be -met with in ancient Greek literature, cf. Orphic Hymn, no. 19, ἀλλὰ, -μάκαρ, θυμὸν βαρὺν ἔμβαλε κύμασι πόντου ἠδ’ ὀρέων κορυφῇσι. - -[18] Cf. Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχελάου, ἡ Σινασός, p. 87. - -[19] _Ibid._ p. 88. - -[20] Theocr. _Id._ II. 28. - -[21] _Ibid._ 53. - -[22] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. vol. III. p. 21. - -[23] This is probably the modern form of ἐμπόδευμα, ‘entanglement.’ The -change of initial ε to α is not rare in dialect, cf. ἄρμος for ἔρμος -(= ἔρημος) ‘miserable’; and υ, with sound of English _v_, is regularly -lost before μ. - -[24] See below, pp. 60 ff. - -[25] _Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie_, II. 140. - -[26] Below, pp. 61 ff. - -[27] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Αθηναίων, vol. III. p. 60. - -[28] Plato, _Charm._ § 8 (p. 155). - -[29] The name is probably derived from the ancient βράγχος, with -metathesis of the nasal sound. If βράγχος means congestion of the -throat, the modern formation in -ᾶς would mean ‘one who causes -congestion,’--apparently of other parts besides the throat. The -by-forms Βαραχνᾶς and Βαρυχνᾶς seem to have been influenced by a -desire to connect the name with βαρύς, ‘heavy.’ Under the ancient name -of this demon, ‘Ephialtes,’ Suidas gives also a popular name of his -day, Βαβουτσικάριος, a word borrowed from late Latin and apparently -connected with _babulus_ (_baburrus_, _baburcus_, _babuztus_) -‘foolish,’ ‘mad.’ _Babutsicarius_ should then be the sender of foolish -or mad dreams. Suidas however may be in error; see below p. 217. - -[30] I learnt the details of this cure in Aetolia; a different version -of it is recorded from Cimolos by Theodore Bent, _The Cyclades_, pp. 51 -ff. - -[31] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 363. - -[32] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, pp. 172 ff. - -[33] Passow (_Popularia Carmina_, Index, s.v. περπερία) speaks of a -girl only. He was perhaps influenced by the feminine form of the word. - -[34] Many versions of the song have been collected, but with little -variation in substance. Passow gives three versions, _Pop. Carm._ nos. -311-313. - -[35] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακá, pp. 172 ff. - -[36] πορεία belongs to the dialect of the Tsakonians as spoken at -Leonidi, but is otherwise obsolete. - -[37] For authorities etc. see Finlay, _Hist. of Greece_, vol. IV. pp. -11 ff. (cap. 1, § 3). - -[38] _De Themat._ II. 25. Finlay, _op. cit._ IV. 17. - -[39] Arist. _Frogs_, 114. - -[40] Hom. _Od._ XIV. 29-31. - -[41] _Ib._ 21. - -[42] I am indebted to Mr L. Whibley for pointing out to me two -records of this fact by English travellers of last century, W. Mure -(_Journal of a Tour in Greece_, 1842, vol. I. p. 99), and W. G. Clark -(_Peloponnesus_, 1858, p. 237). - -[43] Perhaps this is the ἀεικέλιον πάθος (_Od._ 14. 32) which Odysseus -would have endured for some time but for the intervention of Eumaeus. -Otherwise the line must have been inserted by someone who did not -appreciate the guile of Odysseus. - -[44] ll. 35-6. - -[45] l. 38. - -[46] ll. 45-7. - -[47] ll. 72-7. - -[48] l. 78. - -[49] ll. 79-80. - -[50] In some islands the old word φόρμιγγα also is still used. - -[51] C.I.G. vol. I. p. 790 (No. 1625, l. 47) τὰς δὲ πατρίους πομπὰς -μεγάλας καὶ τὴν τῶν συρτῶν ὄρχησιν θεοσεβῶς ἐπετέλεσεν (from Carditsa, -anc. Acraephia, in Boeotia). - -[52] For examples see Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 305-309. - -[53] Athen. VIII. 360 C. - -[54] Cf. Hom. _Od._ 4. 782. - -[55] ἐδῶ ἀφίνω τὰ ἁμαρτήματά μου καὶ τοὺς ψύλλους μου, Δ. Μ. -Μαυρομαρᾶς, Ἱστορία τῆς Τήνου, p. 87 (transl. of Dr M. Salonis, _Voyage -à Tine_ (Paris, 1809)). - -[56] Rohde, _Psyche_, vol. II. pp. 9 ff. - -[57] οἱ βακχευόμενοι καὶ κορυβαντιῶντες ἐνθουσιάζουσι μέχρις ἄν τὸ -ποθούμενον ἴδωσιν, Philo, _de vita contempl._ 2. p. 473 M., cited by -Rohde _l.c._ - -[58] Artemidorus, _Oneirocr._ III. 61. - -[59] Soph. _Fr._ 753. - -[60] Diog. Laert. _Vita Diog._ 6. 39. - -[61] _apud_ Diog. Laert. X. 123. - -[62] 1 _Cor._ XI. 21. - -[63] _Apolog._ cap. 5. - -[64] Lampridius (Hist. Aug.) _Alex._ cap. 29 f. - -[65] _Ibid._ - -[66] _de Haeres._ cap. 8. For the references I am indebted to -Pouqueville, _Voyage de la Grèce_, vol. VI. p. 136. - -[67] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ cap. iv. § 55 (p. 17 Sylb.). - -[68] I have given the story in the form in which I heard it told by a -peasant on board a boat in the Euripus. He was a native, I think, of -Euboea, and being uneducated probably knew the story by oral tradition. -A slightly longer form has, however, been published by Hahn (_Griech. -Märchen_, vol. II. no. 76) and by Πολίτης (Μελέτη ἐπὶ τοῦ βίου τῶν -νεωτέρων Ἑλλήνων, p. 43). - -[69] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. _III_. p. 164. - -[70] Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 457. - -[71] See below, pp. 169 f. - -[72] I am unable to determine whether this saint is the prophet Elijah -of the Old Testament, or a Christian hermit of the fourth century. The -Greeks themselves differ in their accounts. - -[73] Maury, in _Revue Archéologique_, I. p. 502. - -[74] According to Pouqueville (_Voyage de la Grèce_, II. p. 170) the -_rosalia_ was formerly celebrated both at Parga in Epirus and Palermo -in Sicily. The festival at Athens falls on Easter Tuesday, and a large -number of peasants come in from the country to attend it. - -[75] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ § 30. - -[76] See J. M. Neale, _History of the Holy Eastern Church_, p. 1042. - -[77] See below, pp. 66 ff. - -[78] Καμπόυρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. III. p. 160. - -[79] _The Cyclades_, p. 319. - -[80] B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 28. - -[81] _Travels in Crete_, vol. I. p. 250. - -[82] Schmidt (_Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 31) records also the phrase -κατουράει ὁ θεός, parallel with Strepsiades’ joke (Ar. _Nub._ 373) -πρότερον τὸν Δί’ ἀληθῶς ᾤμην διὰ κοσκίνου οὐρεῖν. - -[83] The word is extremely rare, but ῥεμμόνι, I was told, is a coarse -kind of sieve. The expression is from Boeotia. - -[84] From Arachova on Parnassus, Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ -p. 33. - -[85] From Cyprus. - -[86] From Zacynthos, Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 32. - -[87] From the island of Syme, near Rhodes. - -[88] There is a good discussion of them by Πολίτης in Παρνασσός for -1880, pp. 585-608, 665-678, 762-773, from which some of my examples are -taken. I have noted the _provenance_ of the rarer expressions. - -[89] Passow, _Pop. Carm., Distich. Amat. 242_, quoted by Schmidt (_op. -cit._ p. 30), who notes the Homeric parallel. - -[90] _Pyth._ IV. 181 (322), Βασιλεὺς ἀνέμων. - -[91] See _e.g._ Passow, _Pop. Carm._ nos. 426-432, and below, pp. -101-104. - -[92] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχελάου, ἡ Σινασός, p. 159. - -[93] _Märchen, etc._, no. 19. - -[94] pp. 91 ff. - -[95] _The Cyclades_, p. 373. - -[96] There is some likelihood that the title καπνικαρέα is a mere -corruption of an older title which had a quite different meaning; but I -am concerned only with the existing title as popularly interpreted. - -[97] Ross, _Reisen auf den Griech. Inseln_, IV. p. 74. - -[98] Bent, _Cyclades_, p. 46. - -[99] So also in Paros, Bent, _Cyclades_, p. 373. - -[100] Athenaeus, II. 39 C. - -[101] Bent, _Cyclades_, p. 72. - -[102] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. III. p. 153. - -[103] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 131. - -[104] Γρηγ. Παπαδοπετράκης, Ἱστορια τῶν Σφακιῶν, p. 69. - -[105] Cf. a couplet quoted by Pashley, _Travels in Crete_, p. 253. - - Τάζω σου, Παναγία μου, μίαν ἀσημένεαν ζώστρα, - νὰ μὰς συσμίξῃς καὶ τζὴ δυό ς’ ἕνα κρεββατοστρώσι. - -[106] _e.g._ Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 249. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE SURVIVAL OF PAGAN DEITIES. - - -§ 1. THE RANGE OF MODERN POLYTHEISM. - -Thus far we have considered paganism in its bearing and influence upon -modern Greek Christianity. We have seen how the Church, in endeavouring -to widen her influence, countenanced many practices and conciliated -many prejudices of a people whose temperament needed a multitude of -gods and whose piety could pay homage to them all, a people moreover -to whom the criterion of divinity was neither moral perfection nor -omnipotence. From the ethical standpoint some of the ancient gods were -better, some worse than men: in point of power they were superhuman -but not almighty. Some indeed claimed that there was no difference in -origin between mankind and its deities. ‘One is the race of men’ sang -Pindar ‘with the race of gods; for one is the mother that gave to both -our breath of life: yet sundered are they by powers wholly diverse, in -that mankind is as naught, but heaven is builded of brass that abideth -ever unshaken[107].’ One in origin, they are diverse in might. The test -of godhead is power sufficing to defy death. Rightly therefore did -Homer make ‘deathless’ and ‘everbeing’ his constant epithets for the -gods. Immortality alone is the quality which distinguishes them in kind -and not merely in degree from men, and makes them worthy of worship. -A people wedded to such conceptions were naturally ready enough to -install new immortals of whom they had not known before, but reluctant -to depose in their favour those whom they and their forefathers -had known and served. Dangers were to be apprehended from neglect; -blessings were to be secured by tendance. Greater honour might be paid -to one god, less to another; but from no immortal should service be -wholly withheld: even unconscious oversights should be remedied by -offerings ‘to an unknown god.’ Such in its essence was the popular -religion, inconsistent it may be and not deeply intellectual, but in -sympathies very broad--broad enough to encompass the worship of all -immortals, broad as the earth and the sky and the sea wherein they -dwelt and moved. - -So vital and so deep-seated in the hearts of the common-folk are -these religious tendencies, that even at the present day when -the word ‘Christian’ has become a popular synonym for ‘Greek’ in -contradistinction not only with ‘Mohammedan,’ but even sometimes with -‘Western’ or ‘Catholic’ or with ‘Protestant,’ and when horror would -be excited by any imputation of polytheism, there are yet recognised -a large number of superhuman and for the most part immortal beings, -whom the Church has been able neither to eradicate from the popular -mind nor yet to incorporate under the form of saints or devils in her -own theological system. These beings, whether benignant to man or -maleficent, are all treated as divine. In ancient times the common -people had probably little appreciation of the various grades of -divinity; indeed it was one of the seven sages, we are told, who first -differentiated God and the lesser deities and the heroes[108]; and -at the present day the common-folk are certainly no more subtle of -understanding than they were then. God and the Saints and these pagan -powers are all feared and worshipped in the several ways traditionally -suited to each; but the fact of worship proclaims them all alike to be -gods. - -The origin of the non-Christian deities, even if we were unable to -identify any of them with the gods of classical Greece, would be -clearly enough proved by some of the general terms under which all -of them are included. Those who use these terms indeed no longer -appreciate their significance; for all sense of antagonism between -the pagan and Christian elements in the popular religion has, as we -have seen, long been lost. But the words themselves are a relic of -the early days in which the combat of Christianity with the heathen -world was still stern. Among the most widespread of these terms is the -word ξωτικά[109] (i.e. ἐξωτικά), the ‘extraneous’ powers, clearly an -invention of the early Christians. The phrase ‘those that are without’ -(οἱ ἔξω or οἱ ἔξωθεν) was used by S. Paul first[110] and afterwards -generally by the Fathers of the Church to denote men of all other -persuasions. In the fourth century Basil of Caesarea employed the -adjective ἐξωτικός also in a corresponding sense[111]. This word no -doubt became popular, and hence τὰ ἐξωτικά, ‘the extraneous ones,’ -became a convenient term by which to denote comprehensively all those -old divinities whose worship the Church disallowed but even among her -own adherents could not wholly suppress. Another comprehensive term -equally significant, if not so commonly used, is τὰ παγανά[112], ‘the -pagan ones.’ This is in use in the Ionian islands and some parts of the -mainland, but I have not met with it nor found it understood in the -Peloponnese or in the islands of the Aegean Sea[113]. In Cephalonia -it is chiefly, though not exclusively, applied to a species of -supernatural beings usually called callicántzari (καλλικάντζαροι) of -whom more anon: the reason of this restriction may be either the fact -that these monsters--to judge from the folk-stories of the island--so -far outnumber there all other kinds of ‘pagan’ beings that this one -species has almost appropriated to itself the generic name, or that in -old time, when the word παγανά, ‘pagan,’ was still understood in the -sense which we attribute to it, these monsters were deemed specially -‘pagan’ because, as we shall see later, they delight in disturbing a -season of Christian gladness. But elsewhere the term, still employed -in what must have been its original meaning, comprises all kinds of -non-Christian deities; and in earlier times ‘the pagan ones’ was -probably as frequent an expression as its synonym ‘the extraneous -ones.’ To these may perhaps be added the rare appellation recorded -by Schmidt[114], τσίνια: for if the derivation from τζίνα, ‘fraud,’ -‘deceit,’ be right, it will mean ‘the false gods.’ - -Besides these three names, which indicate the pre-Christian origin -of these deities, there are several others--some in universal usage, -others local and dialectic,--which represent them in various aspects. -As a class of ‘divinities’ they are called δαιμόνια: as ‘apparitions,’ -whose precise nature often cannot be further determined, φάσματα or -φαντάσματα and, in Crete, σφανταχτά[115]: as swift and ‘sudden’ in -their coming and going, ξαφνικά[116]: as ghostly and passing like a -vision, εἰδωλικά: as denizens, for the most part, of the air, ἀερικά: -and from their similarity to angels, ἀγγελικά. - -It may seem strange that the first and the last of these terms, -δαιμόνια and ἀγγελικά, should be practically interchangeable; for -the Church at any rate did her best in early days to make the former -understood in the sense of ‘demons’ or ‘devils’ rather than ‘deities.’ -But the attempted change of meaning seems to have failed to make much -impression on a people who did not view goodness as an essential of -godhead; and in later times the Church herself, or many of her less -educated clergy at any rate, surrendered to the popular ideas. Father -Richard[117], a Jesuit resident during the seventeenth century in the -island of Santorini, mentions the case of an old Greek priest who had -long made a speciality of exorcism and was prepared to expel angels and -demons alike from the bodies of those who were afflicted by them. The -priest when questioned by the Jesuit as to what distinction he drew -between demons and angels, replied that the demons came from hell, -while the angels were ἀερικόν τι, a species of aërial being; but while -he maintained a theoretical difference between them, his practice -betrayed a belief that both were equally harmful. Exorcism had to be -employed in cases of ‘angelic’ as well as of ‘demoniacal’ possession; -and Father Richard details the cruelties and tortures inflicted upon a -woman suspected of the former in order to make the pernicious angelic -spirit within her confess its name. The characters of δαιμόνια and -ἀγγελικά are in fact the same, and the subtle theological distinctions -which might be drawn between them are naturally lost on a people who -see them treated even by the priests as equally baneful. - -A few other local or dialectic names remain to be noticed. Two of -them, στοιχει̯ά and τελώνια, denote properly two several species of -supernatural beings--the former being the _genii_ of fixed places[118], -and the latter aërial beings chiefly concerned with the passage of men -from this world to the next[119]--and are only loosely and locally -employed in a more comprehensive sense. The name σμερδάκια, recorded -from Philiatrá in Messenia, is apparently a diminutive form from a root -meaning ‘terrible[120].’ A Cretan word καντανικά is of less certain -etymology, but if, as has been surmised, it has any relation with the -verb καντανεύω, ‘to go down to the underworld,’ and hence ‘to fall -into a trance,’ (‘entranced’ spirits being thought temporarily to have -departed thither,) it may denote either denizens of the lower world or -beings who frighten men into a senseless and trance-like state[121]. -Next come the two words ζούμπιρα and ζωντόβολα, of which I believe -the interpretation is one and the same. Bernhard Schmidt[122], whose -work I have constantly consulted in this and later chapters, would -derive the former from a middle-Greek word ζόμβρος[123], equivalent to -the ancient τραγέλαφος, a fantastic animal of Aristophanic fame; but -it was explained to me in Scyros to be a jocose euphemism as applied -to supernatural beings and to denote properly parasitic insects. The -implied combination of superstitious awe in avoiding the name of -supernatural things with a certain broad humour in substituting what -is, to the peasant, one of the lesser annoyances of life is certainly -characteristic of the Greek folk; and the accuracy of the explanation -given to me is confirmed by the fact that in the island of Cythnos -the other word, ζωντόβολα, is recorded to bear also the meaning of -‘insects[124].’ The joke, if such it be, must date from a long time -back and in its prime must have enjoyed a widespread popularity; for at -Aráchova on the slopes of Parnassus, a place far distant from Scyros, -the word ζούμπιρα is employed in the sense of supernatural beings by -persons who apparently are quite ignorant of its original meaning[125]. -To these difficult terms must be added a few euphemisms of a simple -nature--τὰ πίζηλα (i.e. ἐπίζηλα) ‘the enviable ones’ in one village -of Tenos[126], and in many places such general terms as οἱ καλοί ‘the -noble,’--οἱ ἀδερφοί μας ‘our brothers,’--οἱ καλορίζικοι ‘the fortunate -ones,’--οἱ χαρούμενοι ‘the joyful ones.’ These evasions of a more -direct nomenclature are very frequent, and, since the choice of epithet -is practically at the discretion of the speaker, it would be impossible -to compile a complete list of them. - -How far each of these names may be applied in general to all the -classes of pagan gods and demons and monsters whom I am about to -describe is a question which I cannot determine. On the one hand -many of the names, as we have seen, are purely local, confined to a -few villages or districts or islands and unknown and unintelligible -elsewhere: and on the other hand some of these supernatural beings -themselves are equally local, and my information concerning them has -been gathered from widely separated regions of the Greek world. Hence -it follows that while the several terms which I have explained are -comprehensive in local usage and include all the supernatural beings -locally recognised, it is impossible to say whether the users of them -would think fit to extend them to the deities of other districts. -Probably they would do so; but only for the most widely current -terms, δαιμόνια and ἐξωτικά, can I claim with assurance anything like -universal application. - -The surviving pagan deities fall naturally into two classes. There are -the solitary and individual figures such as Demeter, and there is the -gregarious and generic class to which belong for example the Nymphs. An -exceptional case may occur in which some originally single personality -has been multiplied into a whole class. The Lesbian maiden Gello, who, -according to a superstition known to Sappho[127], in revenge for her -untimely death haunted her old abodes preying upon the babes of women -whose motherhood she envied, is no longer one but many; the place of a -maiden, whom death carried off ere she had known the love of husband -and children, has been taken by withered witch-like beings who none the -less bear her name and resemble her in that they light, like Harpies, -upon young children and suck out their humours[128]. But in the main -the division holds; there are single gods and there are groups of gods. -Of the former, in several cases, there is very little to record. Such -memory of them as still lingers among the people is confined perhaps -to a single folk-story out of the many that have been preserved. In -such cases I do not feel entire confidence that the reference is a -piece of genuine tradition; in spite of the popular form in which the -stories are cast, it is always possible that, owing to the spread of -education, some scholastic smatterings of ancient mythology have been -introduced by the story-teller. There are certainly plenty of tales -to be heard about Alexander the Great which are drawn from literary -sources; and it is possible that two stories published by Schmidt which -contain apparent reminiscences of Poseidon and of Pan are vitiated, -from the point of view of folklore, in the same way. Fortunately the -cases in which this reserve must be felt are few and in the nature -of things unimportant: for, though proof of genuine tradition would -be interesting, yet a single modern allusion is not likely to throw -any light on the ancient conception of a deity or his cult. Where -on the other hand modern folklore is more abundant--and in the case -of the groups of lesser deities above all there is ample store of -information--it is possible that study of the popular conceptions of -to-day may illumine our understanding of ancient religion. - - -§ 2. ZEUS. - -Ἐκ Διὸς ἀρχώμεσθα. - -To Zeus, the ancient father of gods and men, belongs precedence; -but there is in truth little room for him in the modern scheme -of popular religion. His functions have been transferred to the -Christian God, and his personality merged in that of the Father whom -the Church acknowledges. But though he is no longer a deity, the -ancient conception of him has imposed narrow limitations upon the -character of his successor. We have noted already that the God now -recognised exercises the same general control, as did formerly Zeus, -over all the changes and chances of this mortal life, but has, again -resembling Zeus, for his special province only the regulation of the -more monotonous phases of nature and the weather. The more unusual -phenomena, and among them sometimes even the thunder, to which S. Elias -has pretensions, are delegated to saints or to non-Christian deities; -but for the most part the thunder remains the possession of God, as -it was always that of Zeus; and its more important concomitant, the -lightning, is never, I think, attributed to S. Elias, but is wielded by -God alone. - -The very name of this weapon which the Christian God has inherited is -suggestive of the Olympian _régime_. Much has been heard lately of -the double-headed axe as a religious symbol which seems to have been -constantly associated, especially in Crete, with the worship of Zeus. -The modern Greek word for what we call the thunderbolt is ἀστροπελέκι -(a syncopated form of ἀστραποπελέκι by loss of one of two concurrent -syllables beginning with the same consonant), and means literally a -‘lightning-axe.’ The weapon therefore which the supreme God wields -is conceived as an axe-shaped missile; and, though in the ancient -literature which has come down to us we may nowhere find the word -πέλεκυς used of the thunderbolt, there is no reason why the modern word -should not be the expression of a conception inherited from antiquity -and so furnish a clue to what in itself seems a simple and suitable -explanation of the much-canvassed symbol. - -Again the divine associations of the thunderbolt now as in the reign -of Zeus are attested by the awe in which men and cattle, trees and -houses, which have been struck by lightning, are universally held--awe -of that primitive kind which does not distinguish between the sacred -and the accursed. It is sufficient that particular persons or objects -have come into close contact with divine power; that contact sets them -apart; they must not do common work or be put to common uses. In old -days any place which had been struck was distinguished by the erection -of an altar and the performance of sacrifice, but at the same time it -was left unoccupied and, save for sacrificial purposes, untrodden[129]; -it was both honoured and avoided. In the case of persons however the -sense of awe verged on esteem. ‘No one,’ says Artemidorus, ‘who has -been struck by lightning is excluded from citizenship; indeed such -an one is honoured even as a god[130].’ The same feeling is still -exhibited. The peasant makes the sign of the cross as he passes any -scorched and blackened tree-trunk; but if a man has the fortune to be -struck and not killed, he may indulge a taste for idleness for the rest -of his life--his neighbours will support him--and enjoy at the same -time the reputation of being something more than human. - -But in spite of the reverent awe which the victim of the lightning -excites, the thunderbolt is often viewed now, as in old time, as the -instrument of divine vengeance. The people of Aráchova, when they see a -flash, explain the occurrence in the phrase κάποιον διάβολον ἔκαψε, ‘He -has burnt up some devil,’ and the implied subject of the verb, as in -most phrases describing the weather, is undoubtedly God[131]. The same -idea, in yet more frankly pagan garb, is well exhibited in a story from -Zacynthos[132], which is nothing but the old myth of the war of the -Titans against Zeus with the names of the actors omitted. The gist of -it is as follows. - -The giants once rebelled against God. First they climbed a mountain -and hurled rocks at him; but he grasped his thunderbolts (τσακώνει τὰ -ἀστροπελέκι̯α του) and threw them at the giants, and they all fell down -from the mountain and many were killed. Then one whose courage was -still unshaken tied reeds together and tried to reach to heaven with -them (for what purpose, does not appear in the story; but folk-tales -are often somewhat inconsequent, and this vague incident is probably an -imperfect reminiscence of the legend of Prometheus); but the lightning -burnt him to ashes. Then his remaining companions made a last assault, -but the lightning again slew many of them, and the rest were condemned -to live all their life long shut in beneath a mountain. - -This story is one of those which in themselves might be suspected of -scholastic origin or influence; but it so happens that practically the -same story has been recorded from Chios also, with the slight addition -that there the leader of the giants’ assault has usurped the name of -Samson. Such corroboration from the other end of the Greek world goes -far to establish the genuine nature of the tradition. - -Thus though Zeus has been generally superseded by the Christian God, -his character and mythic attributes have left a strong and indelible -mark upon the religion of to-day. The present conception of God is -practically identical with the ancient conception of the deity who was -indeed one among many gods and yet in thought and often also in speech -the god _par excellence_. Christianity has effected little here beyond -the suppression of the personal name Zeus. - -All this, no doubt, illustrates the fusion of paganism with -Christianity rather than the independent co-existence of deities of -the separate systems. But there are two small facts in virtue of which -I have given to Zeus a place among the pagan deities whose distinct -personality is not yet wholly sunk in oblivion. The men of Aráchova, -as we have noticed above, still swear by the ‘god of Crete,’ who can -be no other than Zeus; and in Crete itself there was recently, and may -still be, in use the invocation ἠκοῦτε μου Ζῶνε θεέ, ‘Hearken to me, -O god Zeus[133].’ Such expressions, though their original force is no -longer known by those who use them, are none the less indications that -perhaps not many generations ago Zeus was still locally recognised -and reverenced as a deity distinct from the Christian God, to whom -indeed everywhere he can only gradually have ceded his position and his -attributes. - - -§ 3. POSEIDON. - -For the survival of any god of the sea in the imagination of the -Greek people I cannot personally vouch. Though I have been among the -seafaring population in many parts, I have never heard mention of other -than female deities. That which I here set down rests entirely on the -authority of Bernhard Schmidt. - -In his collection of folk-stories there is one from Zacynthos, entitled -‘Captain Thirteen,’ which runs as follows[134]:--A king who was the -strongest man of his time made war on a neighbour. His strength lay in -three hairs on his breast. He was on the point of crushing his foes -when his wife was bribed to cut off the hairs, and he with thirteen -companions was taken prisoner. But the hairs began to grow again, and -so his enemies threw him and his companions into a pit. The others -were killed by the fall, but he being thrown in last, fell upon them -and was unhurt. Over the pit his enemies then raised a mound. He found -however in the pit a dead bird, and having fastened its wings to his -hands flew up and carried away mound and all with him. Then he soared -high in the air until a storm of rain washed away the clay that held -the feathers to his hands, and he fell into the sea. ‘Then from out the -sea came the god thereof (ὁ δαίμονας τῆς θάλασσας) and struck him with -a three-pronged fork (μία πειροῦνα μὲ τρία διχάλια)’ and changed him -into a dolphin until such time as he should find a maiden ready to be -his wife. The dolphin after some time saved a ship-wrecked king and his -daughter, and the princess by way of reward took him for her husband -and the spell was broken. - -Other characteristics of this trident-bearing sea-god are, according -to the same authority[135], that he is in form half human and half -fish; that his wealth, consisting of all treasures lost in the sea, -is so great that he sleeps on a couch of gold; and that he rides -upon dolphins. Thus Poseidon, it appears, (or it may be Nereus,) has -survived locally in the remembrance of the Greek people as a deity -unconnected with Christianity. Far more generally however his functions -have been transferred to S. Nicolas, whose aid is invariably invoked -by seamen in time of peril, and who has acquired the byname of ‘sailor’ -(ναύτης)[136]. - -The allusion to the sea-god and his trident in the story which I have -repeated must, I think, be accepted with some reserve as being possibly -a scholastic interpolation. I cannot find confirmation of it in any -other folk-story, and moreover the latter part of the tale is familiar -to me in another form. The hero is usually a young prince who goes out -to seek adventures in the world, not a king who has already a wife -at home; and his transformation into a dolphin is effected by some -malicious witch into whose toils he falls. But while for these reasons -I do not put the story forward as certain evidence of the survival of -Poseidon in the popular memory, I have recounted it at some length -because it is an excellent type of current folk-tales, and from a study -of it, if we may now leave Poseidon and make a brief digression, we may -appreciate the relation existing between such stories and the myths of -antiquity. - -The king who was the strongest man of his time has a classical -prototype in the Messenian leader Aristomenes. He too was thrown with -his comrades into a pit by his enemies, the Spartans, and alone escaped -death from the fall, being borne up on the wings of eagles. Again, the -idea of a man’s strength residing in a certain hair or hairs is well -known in ancient mythology; and although it is by no means peculiar to -the Greeks, but is common to many peoples of the world, we may fairly -suppose that the modern Greek has not borrowed it from outside, but has -inherited it from those ancestors among whose myths was the story of -Scylla and Nisus. Lastly, in the incident of the hero fastening wings -to his arms with clay and his subsequent fall into the sea there are -all the essentials of the legend of Icarus. - -Here then combined in one modern folk-story we find the _motifs_ -of three separate ancient myths. And from it and others of like -nature--for in the collection from which I have borrowed it there are -several stories in which such figures as Midas, the Sphinx, and the -Cyclopes are easily recognised--an inference may be drawn as to the -real relation of ancient mythology to modern folk-stories. Certain -themes must have existed from time immemorial, and these have been -worked up into tales by successive generations of _raconteurs_ with -ever-varying settings. Fresh combinations of _motifs_ have been and -are still being tried; fresh embroidery of detail may be added by -each artist; only the theme in its plainest form, the mere groundwork -of story, remains immutable. This at the same time explains the wide -variations of the same myth even among the ancients themselves, and -warns us not to judge of the value of a modern folk-story or folk-song -by the closeness of its resemblance to any ancient myth which may have -been preserved to us in literature. It was naturally the most finished -and artistic presentment of the story which appealed to the taste -of educated men and thus became the orthodox classical version; but -there is every likelihood that before the story reached the stage of -acknowledged perfection much that was primitive had been suppressed -as inartistic, and much that was not traditional had been added by -the poet’s imagination. The unlettered story-teller, endowed with -less fancy and ignorant of the conventions of art, is a far trustier -vehicle of pure tradition; for though he feels himself at liberty to -compose variations of the original theme, he certainly has less power -and generally less inclination to do so; for it is on exactness of -memory and even verbal fidelity to the traditional form of the story -that the modern story-teller chiefly prides himself. Hence the modern -folk-story, straight from the peasant’s lips in a form almost verbally -identical with that in which successive generations of peasants before -him narrated it, may contain more genuinely primitive material than a -literary version of it which dates from perhaps two thousand years or -more ago. - - -§ 4. PAN. - -A story, again from the same collection[137], runs in brief as -follows:--Once upon a time a priest had a good son who tended goats. -One day ‘Panos’ gave him a kid with a skin of gold. He at once offered -it as a burnt-offering to God, and in answer an angel promised him -whatsoever he should ask. He chose a magic pipe which should make all -hearers dance. So no enemy could come near to touch him. The king -however sent for him, and the goatherd, after making the envoys dance -more than once, voluntarily let himself be taken. The king then threw -him into prison, but he had his flute still with him, and when he -played even houses and rocks danced, and fell and crushed all save him -and his. ‘The whole business,’ concludes the story, ‘was arranged by -Panos to cleanse the world somewhat of evil men.’ - -Here the pastoral scene and the gift of the magic pipe (not by Panos -himself, it is true, but indirectly thanks to him) suggest a genuine -remembrance of Pan. It was from him that ‘bonus Daphnis’ learnt the art -of music. The form which the name has assumed is the chief difficulty. -The modern nominative, if formed in the same way as in other words -of the same declension, would naturally be Panas (Πάνας), and the -unusual termination arouses some suspicion that the narrator of the -story had heard of Pan from some literary source and, as often happens -in such cases, had got the name a little wrong. But if the tale be -a piece of genuine tradition, the conclusion of it is remarkable. -The moral purpose ascribed to the deity seems to indicate a loftier -conception of him than that which is commonly found in ancient art -and literature. But the popular tradition embodied in the legend is -not therefore necessarily at fault; indeed it may be more true to the -conception of Pan which prevailed among the common-folk in old days -than were the portraits drawn and handed down by the more educated of -their contemporaries. The patron-god of Arcadian shepherd-life would -naturally have seemed a rude being to the cultured Athenians of the -fifth century, who but for his miraculous intervention in the battle -of Marathon would never have honoured him with a temple. But among his -original worshippers it may well be that, besides presiding over the -increase of their flocks, as did Demeter over the increase of their -fields, he was deemed to resemble her also in the possession of more -exalted attributes, so that there was cause indeed for lamentation over -that strange message ‘Great Pan is dead[138].’ - -But perchance Pan is not dead yet, or if dead not forgotten. And as -this solitary modern story, if it be genuine, testifies to a longlived -remembrance of his better qualities, so in the demonology of the middle -ages a sterner aspect of his ancient character still secured to him -men’s awe. Theocritus[139] gave voice to a well-known superstition -when he made the goat-herd say: ‘Nay, shepherd, it may not be; in the -noontide we may not pipe; ’tis Pan that we fear’; for in his rage if -roused from his midday slumber he was believed to strike the intruder -with ‘panic’ terror: and it was this superstition which influenced the -translators of the Septuagint when they rendered the phrase, which in -our Bible version of the Psalms[140] appears as ‘the destruction that -wasteth at noonday,’ by the words σύμπτωμα καὶ δαιμόνιον μεσημβρινόν. -By the latter half of this phrase the memory of Pan was undoubtedly -perpetuated; for in certain forms of prayer quoted by Leo Allatius[141] -in the seventeenth century, among the perils from which divine -deliverance is sought is mentioned more than once this ‘midday demon’; -and a corresponding ‘daemon meridianus[142]’ found a place of equal -dignity among the ghostly enemies of Roman Catholics. - -Perhaps even yet in the pastoral uplands of Greece some traveller will -hear news of Pan. - - -§ 5. DEMETER AND PERSEPHONE. - -Of few ancient deities has popular memory been more tenacious than -of Demeter; but in different districts the reminiscences take very -different forms. There are many traces of her name and cult, and of the -legends concerning both her and her daughter; but in one place they -have been Christianised, in another they have remained pagan. - -In so far as she has affected the traditions of the Church, a male -deity, S. Demetrius, has in general superseded her. Under the title -of στερεανός, ‘belonging to the dry land,’ he has in most districts -taken over the patronage of agriculture; while his inherited interest -in marriage receives testimony from the number of weddings celebrated, -especially in the agricultural districts, on his day. But at Eleusis, -the old home of Demeter’s most sacred rites, the people, it seems, -would not brook the substitution of a male saint for their goddess, -and yielded to ecclesiastical influence only so far as to create for -themselves a saint Demetra (ἡ ἁγία Δήμητρα) entirely unknown elsewhere -and never canonised. Further, in open defiance of an iconoclastic -Church, they retained an old statue of Demeter, and merely prefixing -the title ‘saint’ to the name of their cherished goddess, continued to -worship her as before. The statue was regularly crowned with garlands -of flowers in the avowed hope of obtaining good harvests, and without -doubt prayer was made before it as now before the pictures of canonical -saints. This state of things continued down to the beginning of the -nineteenth century. Then, in 1801, two Englishmen, named Clarke and -Cripps, armed by the Turkish authorities with a license to plunder, -perpetrated an act unenviably like that of Verres at Enna, and in -spite of a riot among the peasants of Eleusis removed by force the -venerable marble; and that which was the visible form of the great -goddess on whose presence and goodwill had depended from immemorial -ages the fertility of the Thriasian plain is now a little-regarded -object catalogued as ‘No. XIV, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, (much -mutilated)[143].’ - -Saint Demetra however, though lost to sight, was yet dear to the memory -of the village-folk; and in spite of the devastation of old beliefs -and legends which the much-vaunted progress and education of Greece -have committed in the more civilised districts without conferring any -sensible compensation, the antiquarian Lenormant found in 1860 an old -Albanian[144] priest who when once reassured that no ridicule was -intended, recited to him the following remarkable legend[145]: ‘S. -Demetra was an old woman of Athens, kind and good, who devoted all her -little means to feeding the poor. She had a daughter who was beautiful -past all imagining; since “lady Aphrodite” (κυρὰ ’φροδίτη) none had -been seen so lovely. A Turkish lord of the neighbourhood of Souli, who -was a wicked man and versed in magic, saw her one day combing her hair, -which was of golden hue and reached to the very ground, and became -passionately enamoured of her. He bided his time, and having found -his chance of speaking with her tried to seduce her. But she being as -prudent as she was beautiful, repulsed all the miscreant’s advances. -Thereupon he resolved to carry her off and put her in his harem. One -Christmas night, while Demetra was at church, the Turk (ὁ ἀγᾶς) forced -the door of her house, seized the girl who was at home alone, carried -her off in spite of her cries of distress, and holding her in his arms -leapt upon his horse. The horse was a wonderful one; it was black in -colour; from its nostrils it breathed out flames, and in one bound -could pass from the East unto the West. In an instant it had carried -ravisher and victim right to the mountains of Epirus. - -When the aged Demetra came back from church, she found her house broken -into and her daughter gone; great was her despair. She asked her -neighbours if they knew what had become of her daughter; but they dared -not tell her aught, for they feared the Turks and their vengeance. She -turned her enquiries to the tree that grew before her house; but the -tree could tell her nothing. She asked the sun, but the sun could give -her no help; she asked the moon and the stars, but from them too she -learnt nothing. Finally the stork that nested on the house-top said to -her: “Long time now we have lived side by side; thou art as old as I. -Listen; thou hast always been good to me, thou hast never disturbed my -nest, and once thou didst help me to drive away the bird of prey that -would have carried off my nestlings. In recompense I will tell thee -what I know of the fate of thy daughter; she was carried off by a Turk -mounted on a black horse, who took her towards the West. Come, I will -set out with thee and we will search for her together.” - -Accompanied by the stork, Demetra started; the time was winter; it was -cold, and snow covered the mountains. The poor old woman was frozen and -could hardly walk; she kept asking of all those whom she met, whether -they had seen her daughter, but they laughed at her or did not answer; -doors were shut in her face and entrance denied her, for men love not -misery; and she went weeping and lamenting. In this manner however -she dragged her limbs as far as Lepsína (the modern form of the name -Eleusis); but, arriving there, she succumbed to cold and weariness and -threw herself down by the roadside. There she would have died, but -that by good luck there passed by the wife of the _khodja-bachi_ (or -head man of the village), who had been to look after her flocks and -was returning. Marigo--such was her name--took pity on the old woman, -helped her to rise and brought her to her husband, who was named -Nicolas[146]. The _khodja-bachi_ was as kind as his wife; both welcomed -as best they could the poor sorrow-stricken woman, tended her and -sought to console her. To reward them S. Demetra blessed their fields -and gave them fertility. - -Nicolas, the _khodja-bachi_, had a son handsome, strong, brave, and -practised, in a word the finest _pallikar_ of all the country side. -Seeing that Demetra was in no condition to continue her journey, he -offered to set to work to recover her daughter, asking only her hand in -recompense. The offer was accepted, and he set out accompanied by the -faithful stork who would not abandon the undertaking. - -The young man walked for many days without finding anything. At last -one night, when he was in a forest right among the mountains, he -caught sight of a great bright light at some distance. Towards this -he hastily bent his steps, but the point from which the light came -was much further off than he had at first imagined; the darkness had -deceived him. Eventually however he arrived there, and to his great -astonishment found forty dragons lying on the ground and watching an -enormous cauldron that was boiling on the fire. Undismayed by the -sight, he lifted the cauldron with one hand, lit a torch, and replaced -the vessel on the fire. Astounded by such a display of strength, the -dragons crowded round him and said to him, “You who can lift with one -hand a cauldron which we by our united efforts can scarcely carry, -you alone are capable of carrying off a maiden whom we have long been -trying to lay our hands on, and whom we cannot seize because of the -height of the tower wherein a magician keeps her shut up.” The son of -the _khodja-bachi_ of Lepsína perceived the impossibility of escape -from these monsters. Accompanied by the forty dragons, he approached -the tower, and after having examined it, he asked for some large nails, -which he took and drove into the wall, so as to form a kind of ladder, -and which he kept pulling out again as he ascended to prevent the -dragons from following him. Having arrived at the top and with some -difficulty entered at a small window there, he invited the dragons to -ascend as he had done, one by one, which they did, thus giving him -time to kill each as it arrived while the next was climbing up, and -to throw it over the other side of the tower, where there were a large -court, a splendid garden, and a fine castle. Thus rid of his dangerous -guardians, he went down into the interior of the tower and found there -S. Demetra’s daughter, whose beauty at once inspired him with the most -ardent love. - -He was kneeling at her feet when suddenly the magician appeared, and in -a fury of anger threw himself upon the young man, who met him bravely. -The former was of superhuman strength, but Nicolas’ son was not -inferior to him. The magician had the power to transform himself into -any thing he might choose; he changed successively into a lion, into a -serpent, into a bird of prey, into fire--hoping under some one of these -forms to wear his adversary out; but nothing could shake the courage -of the young man. For three days the combat continued. The first day -the magician seemed beaten, but the next he regained his advantage; at -the end of the day’s struggle he killed his young opponent, and cut his -body into four quarters, which he hung on the four sides of the tower. -Then elated by his victory, he did violence to Demetra’s daughter, -whose chastity he had hitherto respected. But in the night the stork -flew away to a great distance to fetch a magic herb which it knew, -brought it back in its beak, and rubbed with it the young man’s lips. -At once the pieces of his body came together again and he revived. -Great was his despair when he learnt what had taken place after his -defeat; but he only threw himself upon the magician with the greater -fury the third day, to punish him for his crime. - -Once again the young man, it seemed, was on the point of being -vanquished, when suddenly he conceived the happy idea of invoking -the Panagia, vowing that if victorious he would become a monk at the -monastery of Phaneroméne[147]. The divine protection which he had -invoked gave him strength and he succeeded in throwing his adversary: -the stork, who had aided him so much, at once attacked the fallen -magician and picked out his eyes; then with its beak pulled out a -white hair noticeable among the black curls that covered his head. On -this hair depended the life of the Turkish magician, who immediately -expired. -His conqueror, taking with him the girl, brought her back to Lepsína, -just at the season when spring was coming and the flowers were -beginning to appear in the fields. Then he went, as he had vowed, and -shut himself up in the monastery. S. Demetra, having received back -her daughter, went away with her. What became of them afterwards, no -one knows; but since that time the fields of Lepsína, thanks to the -blessing of the Saint, have not ceased to be fertile.’ - -It would be superfluous to point out the numerous details of this -legend which accord explicitly with the account of the rape of -Persephone in the Homeric hymn. The interspersion of Christian ideas -and reminiscences of Turkish domination and stories of fabulous -monsters may strike oddly on the ear unacquainted with the vagaries -of Greek folk-stories. Yet the most sceptical could not doubt that -the tradition which forms the groundwork of the legend is none other -than the old myth, or that the four chief actors in the drama are none -other than Demeter and Core, Pluto and Triptolemus. Pluto, masked -as a Turkish _agha_, is perhaps the least readily recognisable; yet -in one way as a relic of ancient tradition the part he plays is the -most remarkable in the whole legend. It is to Souli in Epirus that he -carries off the maiden. Now this is the district of the ancient Cocytus -and Acheron; here was one of the descents to the lower world; here -Aidoneus held sway; and here, in one version of the myth[148], was laid -the scene of the rape of Persephone by that god. Hence the claims of -two separate localities to the same mythological distinction seem by -some means to have become incorporated in the single modern legend. - -In the same part of Epirus, according to Lenormant, a similar story to -that which he heard at Eleusis concerning S. Demetra’s daughter, is -told, _mutatis mutandis_, of S. Demetrius: but since either a sense -of propriety or a want of knowledge prevented him from publishing the -details of it, the mere statement that it existed is of no great value. -But the legend which he narrates in full may I think be accepted as -genuine without corroboration on the grounds of its own structure. -Lenormant has indeed been accused of _mala fides_ in his own department -of archaeology and of tampering with some of the inscriptions which he -published; but even if this charge could be substantiated, I should -doubt whether he had either the inclination to invent a legend which he -only mentions in a cumbrous foot-note, or the ability to fuse ancient -and modern ideas into so good an imitation of the genuine folk-story. -In my judgement the construction of the legend is practically proof of -its genuinely popular origin. - -Thus Eleusis and, in a lesser degree, the many places where S. -Demetrius has succeeded to the chief functions of Demeter have hardly -yet lost touch with the ancient worship of the goddess, Christianised -in form though it may be. But Arcadia too, where alone of all the -Peloponnese the indigenous population were secure from the Achaean -and Dorian immigrations and maintained in seclusion the holiest of -Pelasgian cults, preserves to the present day in story and in custom -some vestiges of the old religion; and here they are less tinged with -Christian colour. - -Near the city of Pheneos, which according to Pausanias[149] was the -scene of mysteries similar to those enacted at Eleusis, there are some -underground channels by which the waters of Lake Pheneos are carried -off, soon to reappear as the river Ladon. These channels were believed -by Pausanias himself to be artificial--the work of Heracles, it was -said, who also constructed a canal close by, traces of which are still -visible: but according to another authority[150] they were the passage -by which Pluto carried off Persephone to the infernal regions. Some -memory of the latter belief seems still to linger among the people -of Phoniá (the modern form of Pheneós), who call these subterranean -vents ἡ τρούπαις τοῦ διαβόλου, ‘the holes of the devil,’ and who -further believe that it is through them that the spirits of the dead -pass to the lower world. My guide informed me also that the rise or -fall of the waters of the lake--the level varies to an extraordinary -degree--furnishes an augury as to what rate of mortality may be -expected in the village. If the water is high, the lower world is for -the time being congested and requires no more inhabitants; if it sinks, -the lower world is empty, and thirsts for fresh victims. The connexion -of such beliefs with the cult of Persephone, though vague, is probably -real; but how general they may be among the present villagers I cannot -say; Dodwell[151] apparently heard nothing of them except the name of -‘the devil’s holes,’ and the explanation of this name which was given -to him took the form of a story about a conflict between the devil and -a king of Phoniá, in which the former hurled explosive balls of grease -at his adversary, one of which set him on fire and drove his body right -through the base of the mountain which rises from the lake’s edge, -leaving thereafter an escape for the waters. There is certainly nothing -in common between this story, which Leake also heard in a slightly -different version[152], and the beliefs communicated to me; and I -suspect that it is a comparatively modern aetiological fable designed -perhaps to satisfy the curiosity of children concerning the name. The -belief that the subterranean channel is a descent to the lower world is -more clearly a vestige of the old local cult of Kore. - -Again in the neighbourhood of Phigalia there is current among the -peasantry a curious story which I tried in vain to hear recited -in full, but only obtained in outline at second-hand. I cannot -consequently vouch for its accuracy, but such as it is I give it. There -once were a brother and sister, of whom the former was very wicked -and a magician, while the latter was very virtuous and beautiful. Her -beauty was indeed so wonderful, that her brother became enamoured of -her. In her distress she fled to a cave near Phigalia, hoping to elude -his pursuit; but the magician straightway discovered her. Then being -at her wits’ end how to save herself from the unholy passion which her -beauty inspired, she prayed to be turned into some beast. Her prayer -was straightway granted, but the wicked magician had power to change -himself likewise. So when they had both been changed into several -shapes he at length overcame her. But no sooner was the infamous deed -done, than the Panagia caused an earthquake, and the roof of the cave -fell and destroyed both brother and sister together. - -A story of incest necessarily ends at the present day among the highly -moral countryfolk of Greece with punishment inflicted by some Christian -deity: but for the rest the story is practically the same as that which -Pausanias heard concerning Poseidon and his sister Demeter in the same -district[153]. In the old version, which Pausanias gives very briefly, -there is only one transformation mentioned, that of Demeter into a -mare and of Poseidon into a horse; but it is at least noteworthy that -the statue of horse-headed Demeter which commemorated this incident -is said to have had ‘figures of snakes and other wild animals’ fixed -on its head; and possibly, if Pausanias had given a fuller version -of the myth, we should find that these figures related to other -transformations which Demeter had tried in vain before in equine form -she was finally forced to yield. The mention of the cave in the modern -story is also significant; for though the cave in the ancient version -is not the scene of the rape, it was there that Demeter hid herself -in her anger afterwards and there too that the statue of horse-headed -Demeter was set up. It would be interesting to know whether the horse -is one of the forms assumed in the modern story; perhaps some other -traveller will be fortunate enough to hear the tale in full. - -In northern Arcadia I also learnt that the flesh of the pig, in -respect of which the ordinary _Graeculus_ fully deserves the epithet -_esuriens_, is taboo; and the result of eating it is believed to be -leprosy. It might be supposed that this superstition has resulted from -contact with Mohammedans; but such an explanation would not account -for the confinement of it to one locality--and that a mountainous -and unprofitable district where intercourse with the Turks must have -been small; and further the Greek would surely have found a malicious -pleasure, the most piquant of sauces, in eating that which offended -the two peoples whom he most abhors, Turks and Jews. On the other -hand, if we suppose this fear of swine’s flesh to be a piece of native -tradition, its origin may well be sought in the ritual observances of -the old cult of Demeter and her daughter, to whom the pig was sacred -and in whose honour it was sacrificed once only in each year, at the -festival of the Thesmophoria[154]. There are many instances among -different peoples of the belief that skin diseases, especially leprosy, -are the punishment visited upon those who eat of the sacred or unclean -animal; for the distinction between sacred and unclean is not made -until a primitive sense of awe is inclined by conscious reasoning in -the direction either of reverence or of abhorrence[155]. Thus in -Egypt, the land from which the Pelasgians, if Herodotus[156] might be -believed, derived the worship of Demeter, it was held that the drinker -of pig’s milk incurred leprosy[157]; and we may reasonably suppose that -the same punishment threatened those Egyptians who tasted of pig’s -flesh save at their one annual festival when this was enjoined[158]. -Now the Thesmophoria resembled this Egyptian festival in that it was -an annual occasion for sacrificing pigs and for partaking therefore of -their flesh; if then the worshippers of Demeter, like the Egyptians, -were forbidden to use the pig for food at other times, and if the -penalty for disobedience in Greece too was believed to be leprosy, the -present case of taboo in Arcadia--the only one known to me in modern -Greece--may be a survival from the ancient cult. - -But apart from these traces of the worship of Demeter and Kore -in Christian worship, in folk-story, and in custom, traces which -constitute in themselves cogent proof of the firm hold on the popular -mind which the goddesses twain must long have kept, there exists in the -belief of the Greek peasantry a personal Power, a living non-Christian -deity, who still inspires awe in many simple hearts and who may -reasonably be identified with one or rather perhaps with both of them. - -For it must not be forgotten that the mother and the daughter were -in origin and symbolism one. The idea of life’s ebb and flow, of -nature’s sleeping and waking, is expressed in them severally as well as -conjointly. It would be impossible to analyse the complete myth and, -even if a purely physical interpretation were sought, to express in -physiological terms the two persons and the parts which they play: for -certain ideas find duplicate expression. Either Demeter’s retirement -to some dark cave or the descent of Persephone to the underworld might -have represented alone and unaided the temporary abeyance of earth’s -productive powers. Yet it was with good reason that the myth expanded -as it were spontaneously until the spirit of life, that pervades -not only the cornfield but all that is animal and human too, was -pourtrayed in double form; not because the mere physical fact of the -decay and the revival of vegetation needed larger symbolism for its -due expression, but because in the tie of mother and daughter and all -that it connotes was fitly represented that by which the life-spirit -works among the higher orders of created things, that which goes before -life’s manifestations and outlasts its vanishings, the spirit of love. - -Of all such ideas as these the modern peasant, needless to say, is -wholly innocent. He has learnt from his ancestors of a woman beautiful, -reverend, deathless, who dwells within a mountain of his land, and who -by her dealings with mankind has proved her real and divine puissance. -Her name is no more uttered, perchance because it is too holy for -men of impure lips; they speak only of ‘the Mistress.’ She is a real -person, not the personification of any natural force. The tiller of -the land foresees his yearly gain from cornfield and vineyard; the -shepherd on the mountain-side expects the yearly increase of his flock; -but by neither is any principle inferred therefrom, much less is such -a principle personified; the blessing which rests on field and fold -is the work of a living goddess’ hands. Flesh and blood she is, even -as they themselves, but immortal and very mighty, nobler than many of -whom the priests preach, stronger to help the good and to punish the -wicked. Simple people they are, who still believe such things, and -ignorant; yet less truly ignorant than some half-educated pedants of -the towns who vaunt their learning in chattering of ‘Ceres’ rather than -of ‘Demeter’ and, misled by Roman versifiers who at least had an excuse -in the exigencies of metre, misinterpret the name as a mere synonym for -corn. Happily however the influence of the schools--for it is amongst -the schoolmasters that the worst offenders in this respect are to be -found--is not yet all-reaching, and in the remoter villages tradition -is still untainted. There without fear of ridicule men may still -confess their faith in the great compassionate goddess. - -It was in Aetolia that I first recognised the popular belief in this -deity. There I heard tell of one who was called ἡ κυρὰ τοῦ κόσμου, ‘the -mistress of the world.’ Her dwelling was in the heart of a mountain, -the means of access to it a cave, but where situated, the peasants -either did not know or feared to tell. Her character indeed was ever -gracious and kindly, but it may be they thought she would resent a -foreigner’s approach. In her power was the granting of many boons, but -her special care was the fertility of the flocks and the abundance of -the crops, including in that district tobacco. - -This revelation convinced me of the accuracy of what I had previously -suspected only in North Arcadia and in Messenia. In both those regions -I had heard occasional mention among the peasants of one whose title -was simply ἡ δέσποινα, ‘the Mistress.’ The word had always struck me -as curious, for in ordinary usage it is obsolete and the mistress of -a house or whatever it may be is always ἡ κυρά (i.e. κυρία). Knowing -however that the Church had preserved the title ἡ δέσποινα among those -under which the Virgin may be invoked, I was disposed at first to think -that the dedication of some church in the neighbourhood had influenced -the people to use the rare name ἡ δέσποινα instead of the ordinary -‘Panagia.’ But when I enquired where the church of ‘the Mistress’ was, -the answer was ‘she has none’: and yet, on making subsequent enquiries -of other persons, I found that there was a church of the Panagia close -by. Clearly then it was not in the ecclesiastical sense that the title -ἡ δέσποινα was being used. More than this I failed to elicit--the -peasants of the Peloponnese are on the whole more suspicious and -secretive than those of northern Greece--but I have little doubt that -this goddess is the same as she who in Aetolia bears a title more -colloquial in form but identical in meaning. - -The existence of this deity among the survivals of the old religion has -never, I think, been observed by any writer on the subject of Greek -folk-lore. But in Bernhard Schmidt’s collection of popular stories and -songs there is evidence, whose value he himself did not recognise, to -corroborate it. One of the songs[159] from Zacynthos contains the lines: - - Ἔκαμ’ ὁ Θεὸς κι’ ἡ Παναγι̯ὰ κι’ ἡ Δέσποινα τοῦ κόσμου, - καὶ ἐπολέμησα με Τούρκους, μ’ Ἀρβανίταις· - χίλιους ἔκοψα, χίλιους καὶ δυ̯ὸ χιλιάδες. - - ‘They wrought in me, even God and the Virgin and the Mistress of the - world, and I fought with Turks and with Albanians: a thousand I slew, - a thousand yea and two thousand.’ - -The editor of this song omits from his translation and does not even -mention in his notes the last phrase of the first line, assuming, I -suppose, that the Virgin is mentioned twice over under two different -titles; but it is at least possible that three persons are intended. -God and the Virgin belong to the category of Christian deities; the -third may be the pagan goddess already discovered in Messenia, Arcadia, -and Aetolia; if so, the collocation of her name along with those of -the highest Christian powers is strong testimony to the reverence -with which the people of Zacynthos too were wont, and perhaps still -continue, to regard her. - -In Schmidt’s stories again yet another variation of the title occurs. -In one, which has already been narrated in full[160], ‘the Mistress of -the earth and of the sea’ (ἡ κυρὰ τσῆ γῆς και τσῆ θάλασσας) rewards -a poor man, on the recommendation of his good angel, with miraculous -gifts, and when he is slain by an envious king, herself appears and -sends down the tyrant quick into the pit where punishment for his -wickedness awaits him. Another, in which the same ample appellation is -used, runs in brief as follows[161]: - -‘Once upon a time a king on his return from a journey gave to his -eldest son as a present a picture of “the Mistress of the earth and of -the sea.” The prince was so dazzled by her beauty that he resolved to -seek her out and make her his wife. He accordingly consulted a witch -who told him how to find the palace where the Mistress of earth and sea -lived, and warned him also that before he could secure the fulfilment -of his desire two tasks would be set him, the first to shatter a small -phial carried by a dove in its beak without injuring the bird, the -second to obtain the skin of a three-headed dragon. She also provided -him with a magic bow wherewith to perform the first labour, and with -two hairs from the dragon’s head, by means of which he would be -magically guided to the monster’s lair. Arrived there he should glut it -with a meal of earth which he was to carry with him, and then slay it -as it slept. - -Thus forewarned and forearmed the prince set out and passing through a -cave, of which the witch had told him, came to the palace. The Mistress -having enquired of him his errand at once set him to perform the two -tasks. These he accomplished, and she returned with him as his wife to -his own land. But they did not live peaceably together, and one day -the Mistress of earth and sea in her anger bade the waters overflow -the whole land, so that all mankind was drowned while she herself -hovered above in the air and looked on. Then when the waters subsided, -she descended to the earth and made new men by sowing stones; and -thereafter she ruled again as before over the whole world.’ - -Both these stories hail, as does the song of which a few lines are -cited above, from Zacynthos, and there is therefore good reason -for believing that in that island the same ‘Mistress’ was recently -acknowledged as at this very day is venerated in those parts of the -mainland which I have mentioned. - -Taking the common factors in these several traditions and beliefs, -we are led at once to identify the goddess to whom they relate with -Demeter. - -First, the simplest form of her title, ἡ δέσποινα, of which the others -are merely elaborations, is that which Demeter commonly shared with -Persephone in old time; and that the title has been handed down from -antiquity is shown clearly by the fact that the word is in ordinary -usage obsolete. Since then it is unlikely that in the course of -tradition such a title should be transferred (save, owing to Christian -influence, in the case of the Virgin, who has locally no doubt -superseded one of the goddesses twain and appropriated her byname), -the word itself declares in favour of the identification of this still -living deity with Demeter. - -Secondly, her dwelling-place is consistently in the modern accounts -the heart of a mountain, and the passage to it a cave. Such precisely, -according to Pausanias, was the habitation of Demeter in Mt -Elaïon[162]; and the same idea is reflected in her whole cult; for, -though in the classical period she had temples built like those of -other deities, yet her holy of holies, as befitted a Chthonian deity, -was always a subterranean hall (μέγαρον) or palace (ἀνάκτορον), an -artificial and glorified cavern. - -Thirdly, the modern deity is in character benevolent, therein differing -markedly from many of the pagan powers whom we have yet to consider and -also from several of the Christian saints. Once only, in the second of -the stories from Zacynthos, does she appear in angry mood, when she -destroys all mankind by a flood. To the actual means of destruction -employed too much importance must not be attached. The _motif_ of -the flood is common in modern Greek folk-tales. In the islands of the -Aegean I encountered it several times, the fullest version being one -which I heard in Scyros. The story as told there was exactly that of -Deucalion, save that in deference to biblical tradition he was named -Noah and, by a slight anachronism, it was the Panagia instead of Themis -who counselled him to create fresh men by throwing stones over his -shoulder. I was also taken to see the place where the flood was at -its highest, a narrow glen through which runs a small stream, whose -high sloping banks are certainly a mass of half-fossilised animal and -vegetable matter; and I was escorted to the hill-top on which Noah’s -caïque finally rested. Such a theme is easily worked into a story -of the deity, usually benevolent though she be, who is ‘Mistress of -the earth and of the sea’; and apart from the means of punishment so -appropriately adopted by a goddess who rules the sea, this single -outburst of somewhat unreasonable anger on the part of the modern deity -against all mankind is singularly like the old-time Demeter’s resentful -retirement into the depths of her cave, until ‘all the produce of earth -was failing and the human race was perishing fast from famine[163].’ -Yet otherwise the ancient goddess too was benevolent and gracious to -man. - -Fourthly, in Aetolia at any rate and probably also in the Peloponnese, -where however I failed to extract definite information, the modern -goddess is the quickener of all the fruits of the earth, and in -functions therefore corresponds once more with the ancient conception -of Demeter. On these grounds the identification seems to me certain. - -This being granted, the permanence of tradition concerning the -dwelling-place of Demeter raises a question which I approach with -diffidence, feeling that an answer to it must rest with others more -competent than myself in matters archaeological. First, is the -tradition as old as that of the personality of the goddess? It is hard -to suppose otherwise; for the primitive mind would scarcely conceive -of a person without assigning also an habitation; and the habitation -actually assigned is of primitive enough character--a cave in a -mountain-side. Where then was Demeter worshipped by the Pelasgians -in the Mycenaean age? That she was a deity much reverenced by the -dwellers in the Argive plain is certain; small idols believed to -represent Demeter Kourotrophos have been found at Mycenae[164]; others, -of which the identification is more certain, at Tiryns[165]; and at -Argos, in later times, Demeter continued to be worshipped under the -title Pelasgian[166]. Was a mere cavern then her only home? Or did -Mycenae lavish some of its gold on building her a more worthy temple? -May not the famous bee-hive structures which have passed successively -for treasuries and for tombs of princes prove to be μέγαρα, temples of -Chthonian deities such as Demeter? - -It is true that in some humbler structures of the same type, such -as those at Menídi and Thoricus, clear evidences of inhumation have -been found; but I question whether it is permissible to draw from -this fact the inference that those magnificent structures also, the -so-called Treasuries of Atreus and of Minyas, were in reality tombs. -It would seem reasonable to suppose that dwelling-places for the dead -beneath the earth and for earth-deities may have been constructed on -the same plan, but that the abodes dedicated to immortals were more -imposing than those destined for dead men. This hypothesis appears to -me more consistent with the evidence of the actual sites at Mycenae and -Orchomenos than the commonly accepted view that the inner chamber of -the ‘Treasury of Atreus’ was a place of burial. ‘In the centre of the -Mycenaean chamber,’ says Schuchhardt[167], ‘there is an almost circular -depression three feet in diameter and two feet in depth, cut into the -rocky ground. In spite of its unusual shape, we must recognise in it -the actual site of the grave.’ Was it a royal posture to lie curled up -like a cat? And if so, what of a similar depression in the floor of -the ‘Treasury of Minyas’ at Orchomenos? ‘Almost in the centre of the -treasure-room’--I again quote Schuchhardt[168]--‘was a long hole in the -level rock, nine inches deep, fifteen inches broad and nineteen inches -long, which’--must be recognised as the sepulchre of a royal baby? No, -our faith is not to be so severely taxed;--‘which must have served -to secure some monument.’ May we not, with more consistency, extend -the same explanation to Mycenae? And what then were the monuments? -May they not have been images of the deity set up in the most natural -place, the centre of the outer or the inner sanctuary? - -Again, the actual shape of the buildings is important. Ethnologists -tell us that it is ultimately derived from a type of dwelling commonly -occupied by primitive man, a circular wattle-hut with conical top; or -even more directly, as some would have it, from a similarly shaped -abode which the ancient Phrygians used to excavate in the ground, -constructing the top of withies laced over beams converging to the apex -and covered over with earth, while they tunnelled out an approach from -one side where the ground sloped conveniently away[169]. From this it -is argued that the domed chambers of Mycenae must be tombs, on the -ground that ‘men in all ages have fashioned the dwellings of the dead -in accordance with those of the living; but the dead are conservative, -and long after a new generation has sought a new home and a new pattern -for its houses, the habitations of the dead are still constructed in -ancestral fashion[170].’ I readily admit conservatism in all religious -matters; but how does the argument touch Mycenae? Archaeologists, and -among them Schuchhardt himself[171], are agreed that the shaft-graves -in the citadel are earlier in date than the bee-hive structures of -the lower town. There was therefore a breach in the continuity of the -ancestral fashion. Reversion to a disused fashion is a very different -thing from conservatism in upholding an unbroken usage. - -But even supposing that there were good evidence of the uninterrupted -continuity of this type of sepulchre, may not the temples of Chthonian -deities have been built on the same plan? The use of the old word -μέγαρον suggests that the sanctuary of Demeter and Persephone, though -subterranean, was modelled on the dwellings of men, and, to borrow an -argument, religious conservatism may well have preserved for the gods’ -abodes the hut-like shape of primitive man’s dwellings long after a new -type of house had become general among mortals. Concrete instances of -this actually existed in much later times[172]. In Rome the temple of -Vesta was of this primitive shape, and so also most probably was the -Prytaneum of Athens, which, though not a temple, contained the sacred -hearth of the whole community and a statue of Hestia[173]. Demeter -then, as one of the deities of primitive Greece, might well have been -provided with a temple constructed on the same primitive pattern as -that of Vesta, but subterranean, as would befit a Chthonian deity, and -thus analogous to the cave wherein she had been wont to dwell. The -large domed chamber would be her _megaron_, wherein her worshippers -assembled just as guests assembled in the _megaron_ of a prince. The -small square apartment, where such exists, opening on one side of the -main room, might be the παστάς or ‘bedchamber,’ an inner sanctuary -which temples of later ages also possessed. The approach or ‘dromos’ -would represent the natural cave which had given access to her fabled -palace in the bowels of the earth. - -Finally, on such a view of these buildings, it would not be difficult -to explain Pausanias’ belief that they were treasuries[174]. Treasuries -only, we may be sure, they were not; for they would not have been built -outside the walls of the citadel. But temples in later times were used -as depositories for treasure; the would-be thief shrank apparently from -the further crime of sacrilege; and it is not unlikely that in a more -primitive age, when superstitious awe was certainly no less strong, -while robbery far from being a crime was an honourable calling, men -should have secured their treasure by storing it in some inviolable -sanctuary. Indeed it may be to such a custom that Homer alludes in -speaking of ‘all that the stone threshold of the archer, even Phoebus -Apollo, doth enclose within at rocky Pytho[175].’ If then this practice -prevailed in Mycenaean, as it did in later, times, Pausanias would -be recording a tradition which was partially right; and it is not -hard to see how, when Mycenae’s greatness had suddenly, as it seems, -declined and her population perhaps had migrated for the most part to -Argos, later generations, familiar in their new settlements with that -different type of temple only which afterwards became general, might -have forgotten the sacred character of the bee-hive structures and -have remembered only the proverbial wealth once stored by the kings of -Mycenae within them. - -There remains one point to which I may for the moment direct attention -here, reserving the development of the religious idea contained in -it for a later chapter. The main theme of the second of the stories -from Zacynthos was the seeking of the Mistress in marriage by a young -prince. Now if this story stood alone, it would not be right to lay -much stress upon it; for the adventures of a young prince in search of -some far-famed bride form the plot of numerous Greek folk-tales; and -it would be possible to suppose that the real divine personality of -the Mistress had been partially obscured in the popular memory before -such a story became connected with her name. But the same _motif_ -as it happens is repeated in two stories, one Greek and the other -Albanian, in von Hahn’s collection[176]. The name of ‘the Mistress’ -does not indeed occur; the deity is called in both ‘the beautiful -one of the earth[177].’ But her identity is made quite clear in the -Albanian story, which evidently must have been borrowed from the -Greek and is therefore admissible as good evidence, by the mention -of ‘a three-headed dog that sleeps not day nor night’ by which she -is guarded. This is undoubtedly the same monster as the hero of the -Zacynthian story was required to kill--the three-headed snake; and -while the Albanian story, in making the beast a guardian of the -subterranean abode whom the adventurer must slay before he can reach -‘the beautiful one,’ is better in construction and, incidentally, more -faithful to old tradition[178] than the Greek version which makes the -slaying an useless task arbitrarily imposed, yet in both portraits of -the monster we can recognise Cerberus--half dog, half snake. But of him -more anon; ‘the beautiful one of the earth’ whom he guards can be none -other than Persephone. - -Thus there are three modern stories which record the winning of Demeter -or Persephone in marriage by a mortal lover. Is this a relic of ancient -tradition? There was the attempt of Pirithous to seize Persephone for -his wife; but that failed, and moreover was judged an impious deed -for which he must suffer punishment. Yet there is also the story of -Iasion who was deemed worthy of Demeter’s love. Wedlock then even with -so great a deity as Demeter or her daughter was not beyond mortals’ -dream or reach. Thus much I may notice now; when I come to examine -more closely the ancient worship of these goddesses, I shall argue -that the idea of a marriage-union between them and human kind was the -most intimate secret of the mysteries, and that in such folk-tales -as those which I have here mentioned is contained the germ of a -religious conception from which was once evolved the holiest of ancient -sacraments. - - -§ 6. CHARON. - -There is no ancient deity whose name is so frequently on the lips -of the modern peasant as that of Charon. The forms which it has now -assumed are two, Χάρος and Χάροντας, analogous to the formations γέρος -and γέροντας from the ancient γέρων: for in late Greek at any rate the -declension of Χάρων followed that of γέρων[179]. The two forms do not -seem to belong to different modern dialects, for they often appear in -close juxtaposition in the same folk-song. The shorter form however is -the commoner in every-day speech, and I shall therefore employ it. - -About Charos the peasants will always, according to my experience, -converse freely. Neither superstitious awe nor fear of ridicule imposes -any restraint. They feel perhaps that the existence of Charos is one of -the stern facts which men must face; and even the more educated classes -retain sometimes, I think, an instinctive fear of making light of his -name, lest he should assert his reality. For Charos is Death. He is -not now, what classical literature would have him to be, merely the -ferryman of the Styx. He is the god of death and of the lower world. - -Hades is no longer a person but a place, the realm over which Charos -rules. But the change which has befallen the old monarch’s name is -the only change in the Greek conception of that realm. It is still -called ‘the lower world’ (ὁ κάτω κόσμος or ἡ κάτω γῆ), and even the -name Tartarus (now τὰ Τάρταρα, with the addition frequently of τῆς -γῆς) still may be heard. Nor is the character of the place altered. -Its epithet ‘icy-cold,’ κρυοπαγωμένος, is well-nigh as constant in -modern folk-songs as was the equivalent κρυερός in Homer’s allusions -to Hades’ house, while the picturesque word ἀραχνιασμένος, ‘thick with -spiders’-webs,’ repeats in thought the Homeric εὐρωείς, ‘mouldering.’ -Such is Charos’ kingdom, and hither he conveys men’s souls which he has -snatched away from earth. - -Here with him dwells his mother, a being, as one folk-song tells[180], -more pitiful than he, who entreats him sometimes, when he is setting -out to the chase, to spare mothers with young children and not to part -lovers new-wed. He has also a wife, Charóntissa or Chárissa, who as the -name itself implies is merely a feminine counterpart of himself without -any distinct character of her own. A son of Charos is also mentioned -in song, for whose wedding-feast ‘he slays children instead of lambs -and brides as fatlings[181],’ and to whose keeping are entrusted the -counter-keys of Hades[182]. Adopted children are also counted among -his family, but these are of those whom he has carried from this world -to his own home[183]. The household is completed by the three-headed -watch-dog, of whom however remembrance is very rare. Yet in two -stories in the last section we recognised Cerberus, and even the less -convincing of the embodiments there presented, that which represented -him as a three-headed snake rather than dog, is not devoid of traces -of ancient tradition. The hero who would slay the monster has to cross -a piece of water--the sea instead of the river Styx--in order to reach -an island where is the monster’s lair; and there arrived, he sees -‘looking out from a hole three heads with eyes that flash fire and -jaws that breathe flames[184].’ This is Cerberus without doubt; and -if the story calls him ‘serpent’ rather than ‘dog,’ ancient mythology -and art alike justify in part the description; for his mother was -said to be Echidna, and he himself is found pourtrayed with the tail -of a serpent and a ring of snakes about his neck. Schmidt himself -appears to have overlooked the testimony of this story and of that also -from the collection of von Hahn in which, as I have pointed out, we -have a modern picture of Cerberus guarding the realm of Persephone; -for he speaks of some remarkable lines from a song which he himself -heard in Zacynthos as an unique mention of Cerberus, and questions -the genuine nature of the tradition. All doubt is however removed -by the corroborative evidence contained in the two stories already -mentioned and by the fact that a three-headed dog belonging to Charos -was recently heard of by a traveller in Macedonia[185]. The lines -themselves are put in the mouth of Charos:-- - - Ἔχω ὀχτρὸ ἐγὼ σκυλὶ, π’ ούλους μας μᾶς φυλάει, - κῂ ἄντας με ἰδῇ ταράζεταικὴ καὶ θέλει νά με φάῃ. - εἶναι σκυλὶ τρικέφαλο, ποῦ καίει σὰ φωτία, - ἔχει τὰ νύχια πουντερὰ καὶ τὴν ὠρὰ μακρύα. - βγάνει φωτιὰ ’φ’ τὰ μάτια του, ἀπὸ τὸ στόμα λάβρα, - ἡ γλῶσσα του εἶναι μακρυά, τὰ δόντια του εἶναι μαῦρα[186]. - - ‘A savage dog have I, who guards us all, and when he sees me he rages - and fain would devour me. A three-headed dog is he, and he burns like - fire; his claws are sharp and his tail is long; from his eyes he gives - forth flame and from his mouth burning heat; long is his tongue and - grim his teeth.’ - -Here at least recognition of Cerberus must be immediate; every detail -of the description, save for the characteristically modern touch -which makes Charos afraid of his own dog, is in accord with classical -tradition. - -Such is the household of Charos, so far as a description may be -compiled from a few scattered allusions; his own portrait varies more, -in proportion as there are more numerous attempts in every part of -Greece to draw it. Sometimes he is depicted as an old man, tall and -spare, white of hair and harsh of feature; but more often he is a lusty -warrior, with locks of raven-black or gleaming gold--just as Hades in -old time was sometimes κυανοχαίτης, sometimes ξανθός,--who rides forth -on his black steed by highway or lonely path to slay and to ravage: -‘his glance is as lightning and his face as fire, his shoulders are -like twin mountains and his head like a tower[187].’ His raiment is -usually black as befits the lord of death, but anon it is depicted -bright as his sunlit hair[188], for though he brings death he is a god -and glorious. - -His functions are clearly defined. He visits this upper world to -carry off those whose allotted time has run, and guards them in the -lower world as in a prison whose keys they vainly essay to steal and -to escape therefrom. But the spirit in which he performs those duties -varies according as he is conceived to be a free agent responsible to -none or merely a minister of the supreme God. Which of these is the -true conception is a question to which the common-folk as a whole have -given no final answer; and the character of Charos consequently depends -upon the view locally preferred. - -Those who regard him as simply the servant and messenger of God, find -no difficulty in accommodating him to his Christian surroundings; -for, as I have said, the peasant does not distinguish between the -Christian and the pagan elements in his faith which together make his -polytheism so luxuriant. We have already seen Charos’ name with the -prefix of ‘saint[189]’; and though this Christian title is not often -accorded him, yet his name appears commonly on tomb-stones in Christian -churchyards. At Leonídi, on the east coast of the Peloponnese, I noted -the couplet: - - καὶ μένα δὲν λυπήθηκε ὁ Χάρος νά με πάρῃ, - ποῦ εἴμουνα τοῦ οἴκου μου μονάκριβο βλαστάρι. - - ‘Me too Charos pitied not but took, even me the fondly-cherished - flower of my home.’ - -So too in popular story and song he is represented as working in -concord with the Angels and Archangels, to whom sometimes falls -the task of carrying children to his realm[190]. Indeed one of the -archangels, Michael, who as we saw above has ousted Hermes, the -escorter of souls, and assumed his functions, is charged with exactly -the same duties as Charos in the conveyance of men’s souls to the -nether world, so that in popular parlance the phrases ‘he is wrestling -with Charos’ (παλεύει μὲ τὸ Χάρο)[191] and ‘he is struggling with -an angel’ (ἀγγελομαχεῖ)[192] are both alike used of a man in his -death-agony. - -This Christianised conception of Charos has not been without influence -in softening the lines of the character popularly ascribed to him. The -duties imposed upon him by the will of God are sometimes repugnant to -him, and he would willingly spare those whom he is sent to slay. One -folk-story related to me exhibits him even as a friend of man:-- - -‘Once upon a time there were a man and wife who had had seven children -all of whom died in infancy. When an eighth was born, the father betook -himself to a witch and enquired of her how he might best secure the -boy’s life. She told him that the others had died because he had chosen -unsuitable godparents, and bade him on this occasion ask the first man -whom he should meet on his way home to stand sponsor for the child. He -accordingly departed, and straightway met a stranger riding on a black -horse, and made his request to him. The stranger consented, and the -baptism at once took place; but no sooner was it over than he was gone -without so much as telling his name. - -Ten years passed, and the child was growing up strong and healthy. -Then at last the father again encountered the unknown stranger, and -reproached him with having been absent so long without ever making -enquiry after his godson. Then the stranger answered, “Better for thee -if I had not now come and if thou neededst not now learn my name. I am -Charos, and because I am thy friend[193], am come to warn thee that thy -days are well-nigh spent.” Thereupon Charos led him away to a cave in -the mountain-side, and they entered and came to a chamber where were -many candles burning. Then said Charos, “See, these candles are the -lives of men, and yonder are thine and thy son’s.” Then the man looked, -and of his own candle there were but two inches left, but his son’s was -tall and burnt but slowly. Then he besought Charos to light yet another -candle for him ere his own were burnt away, but Charos made answer that -that could not be. Then again he besought him to give him ten years -from the life of his son, for he was a poor man, and if he died ere his -son were grown to manhood, his widow and orphan would be in want. But -Charos answered, “In no way can the decreed length of life be changed. -Yet will I show thee how in the two years that yet remain to thee thou -mayest enrich thyself and leave abundant store for thy wife and child. -Thou shalt become a physician. It matters not that thou knowest nought -of medicine, for I will give thee a better knowledge than of drugs. -Thine eyes shall ever be open to see me; and when thou goest to a sick -man’s couch, if thou dost see me standing at the bed-head, know then -that he must die, and say to them that summoned thee that no skill can -save him; but if thou dost see me at the foot of the bed, know that he -will recover; give him therefore but pills of bread if thou wilt, and -promise to restore him.” Then did the man thank Charos, and went away -to his home. - -Now it chanced that the only daughter of the king lay grievously sick, -and all the doctors and magicians had been called to heal her, but they -availed nothing. Then came the poor man whom Charos had taught, and -went into the room where the princess lay, and lo! Charos stood at the -foot of her bed. Then he bade the king send away the other physicians, -for that he alone could heal her. So he himself went home and mixed -flour and water and came again and gave it to the king’s daughter, and -soon she was recovered of her sickness. Then the king gave him a great -present, and his fame was spread abroad, and many resorted to him, and -soon he was rich. - -Thus two years passed, and at the end thereof he himself lay sick. And -he looked and saw Charos standing at the head of his bed. Then he bade -his wife turn the bed about, but it availed nothing; for Charos again -stood at his head, and caught him by the hair, and he opened his mouth -to cry out, and Charos drew forth his soul[194].’ - -Again the unwillingness of Charos to execute the harsh decrees of God -is illustrated in numerous folk-songs. Most often it is some brave -youth, shepherd or warrior, a lover of the open air, who excites his -compassion; for the same notes of regret which Sophocles made melodious -in the farewell of Ajax to the sunlight, to his house in Salamis, even -to the streams and springs of the Trojan land which brought his death, -ring clear and true in modern folk-song too from the lips of dying -warriors. Such were the last words of the outlaw-patriot (κλέφτης) -Zedros: - - ‘Farewell, Olympus, now farewell, and all the mountain-summits, - Farewell, my strongholds desolate, and plane-trees rich in shadow, - Ye fountains with your waters cool, and level plains low-lying. - Farewell I bid the swift-winged hawks[195], farewell the royal eagles, - Farewell for me the sun I love and the bright-glancing moonlight, - That lighted up my path wherein to walk a warrior worthy[196].’ - -Such laments are not lost upon Charos, the servant of God, but he must -needs turn a deaf ear to prayers for a respite. Clear and final comes -his answer, almost in the same words in every ballad[197], - - δὲν ἠμπορῶ, λεβέντη μου, γιατ’ εἶμαι προσταμμένος, - ἐμένα μ’ ἔστειλ’ ὁ Θεὸς νὰ πάρω τὴ ψυχή σου. - - ‘No respite can I give, brave sir, for I am straitly chargèd; - ’Tis God that sent me here to thee, sent me to take thy spirit.’ - -Sometimes then the doomed man will seek to tempt Charos with meat and -drink, that he may grant a few hours’ delay, but against offers of -hospitality he is obdurate. Or again his victim refuses to yield to -death ‘without weakness or sickness’ and challenges him to a trial -of athletic skill, in wrestling or leaping, whereon each shall stake -his own soul. And to this Charos sometimes gives consent, for he -knows that he will win. So they make their way to the ‘marble-paved -threshing-floor,’ the arena of all manly pursuits; and there the man -perchance leaps forty cubits, yet Charos surpasses him by five; or -they wrestle together from morn till eve, but at the last bout Charos -is victor. One hero indeed is known to fame, whose exploits make him -the Heracles of modern Greece, Digenes the Cyprian, who wrestled with -Charos for three nights and days and was not vanquished. But then -‘there came a voice from God and from the Archangels, “Charos, I sent -thee not to engage in wrestlings, but that thou should’st carry off -souls for me[198].”’ And at that rebuke Charos transformed himself into -an eagle and alighted on the hero’s head and plucked out his soul. - -The other and more pagan conception of Charos excludes all traits -of kindness and mercy; and men do not stint the expression of their -hatred of him. He is ‘black,’ ‘bitter,’ ‘hateful’ (μαῦρος[199], πικρός, -στυγερός). He is the merciless potentate of the nether world, -independent of the God of heaven, equally powerful in his own domain, -but more terrible, more inexorable: for his work is death and his abode -is Hades. Thence he issues forth at will, as a hunter to the chase. -‘Against the wounds that Charos deals herbs avail not, physicians give -no cure, nor saints protection[200].’ His quarry is the soul of man; -‘where he finds three, he takes two of them, and where he finds two, -takes one, and where he finds but one alone, him too he takes[201].’ -Sometimes he is enlarging his palace, and he takes the young and strong -to be its pillars; sometimes he is repairing the tent in which he -dwells, and uses the stout arms of heroes for tent-pegs and the tresses -of bright-haired maidens for the ropes; sometimes he is laying out a -garden, and he gathers children from the earth to be the flowers of -it and young men to be its tall slim cypresses; more rarely he is a -vintager, and tramples men in his vat that their blood may be his red -wine, or again he carries a sickle and reaps a human harvest. - -But most commonly he is the warrior preëminent in all manner of -prowess--archer, wrestler, horseman. Once a bride boasted that she -had no fear of Charos, for that her brothers were men of valour and -her husband a hero; then came Charos and shot an arrow at her, and -her beauty faded; a second and a third arrow, and he stretched her -on her death-bed[202]. Often in the pride of strength have young -warriors laughed Charos to scorn; then has he come to seize the -strongest of them, and though the warrior strain and struggle as in -a wrestling-match, yet Charos wearies not but wins the contest by -fair means or foul: for he is no honourable foe, but dishonest above -thieves, more deceitful than women[203]: he seizes his adversary by the -hair and drags him down to Hades. Even more striking is the picture of -Charos as horseman riding forth on his black steed to the foray, and -it is this conception which has inspired one of the finest achievements -of the popular muse:-- - - Why stand the mountains black and sad, their brows enwrapped in darkness? - Is it a wind that buffets them? is it a storm that lashes? - No, ’tis no wind that buffets them, nor ’tis no storm that lashes; - But ’tis great Charos passing by, and the dead passing with him. - He drives the young men on before, he drags the old behind him, - And at his saddle-bow are ranged the helpless little children. - The children cling and cry to him, the old men call beseeching, - “Good Charos, at some hamlet halt, halt at some cooling fountain; - There let the young men heave the stone, the old men drink of water, - There let the little children go agathering pretty posies.” - “No, not at hamlet will I halt, nor yet at cooling fountain, - Lest mothers come draw water there and know their little children, - Lest wife and husband meet again and there be no more parting.” - -Such is the more pagan presentment of the modern Charos, a tyrant as -absolute in his own realm as God in heaven, a veritable Ζεὺς ἄλλος[204] -as was Hades of old, but hard of heart, heedless of prayer, delighting -in cruelty. - -At first sight then the Charos of modern Greece would seem to have -little in common with the Charon of ancient Greece beyond the name and -some connexion with death: and Fauriel, in the introduction to his -collection of popular songs, pronounces the opinion that in this case -the usual tendencies of tradition have been reversed, in that it is the -name that has survived, while the attributes have been changed[205]. -To this judgement I cannot subscribe. I suspect that in ancient times -the literary presentation of Charon was far more circumscribed than the -popular, and that out of a profusion of imaginative portraitures as -varied as those seen in the folk-songs of to-day one aspect of Charon -became accepted among educated men as the correct and fashionable -presentment. Hades was, in literature, the despot of the lower world, -and for Charon no place could be found save that of ferryman. But this, -I think, was only one out of the many guises in which the ancient -Charon was figured by popular imagination; for at the present day the -remnants of such a conception are small, in spite of the fact that -there has remained a custom which should have kept it alive--the custom -of putting a coin in the mouth of the dead. - -Only in one folk-song, recorded from Zacynthos, can I find the old -literary representation of Charon as ferryman of the Styx unmistakably -reproduced. The following is a literal rendering:--‘Across the river -that none may ford Charos was passing, and one soul was on the bank and -gave him greeting. “Good Charos, long life to thee, well-beloved; take -me, even me, with thee, take me, dear Charos! A poor man’s soul was I, -even of a poor man and a beggar; men left me destitute and I perished -for lack of a crumb of barley-bread. No last rites did they give me, -they gave me none, poor soul, not even a farthing in my mouth for -thee who dost await me. Poor were my children, poor and without hope; -destitute were they and lay in death unburied, poor souls. Them thou -did’st take, good Charos, them thou did’st take, I saw thee, when thy -cold hand seized them by the hair. Take me too, Charos, take me, take -me, poor soul; take me yonder, take me yonder, no other waiteth for -thee.” Thus cried to him the poor man’s soul, and Charos made answer, -“Come, soul, thou art good, and God hath pitied thee.” Then took he the -soul and set her on the other bank, and spreading then his sail he sped -far away[206].’ - -In another song[207] of the same collection, hailing also from -Zacynthos, there may be a reminiscence of the same old tradition. In -it Charos has a caïque with black sails and black oars and goes to and -fro--whence and whither is not told--with cargoes of the dead. But more -probably the imagery is borrowed from seafaring; the Greek peasant -would hardly imagine a caïque plying on a river; the streams of his own -country will seldom carry even a small bark. A sea-voyage on the other -hand is, especially in the imagination of islanders, the most natural -method of departure to a far-off country. From the sea certainly comes -the metaphor in a funeral dirge from Zacynthos in which the mourner -asks of the dead, - - σὲ τὶ καράβι θὰ βρεθῇς καὶ ’σ τὶ πόρτο θ’ ἀράξῃς;[208] - - ‘In what boat wilt thou be and at what haven wilt thou land?’ - -This too is claimed by Schmidt[209] as a reminiscence of Charon’s -ferry--somewhat unfortunately; for the next line continues, - - γιὰ νἄρθῃ ἡ μανοῦλα σου νά σε ξαναγοράσῃ, - - ‘That thy mother may come and ransom thee again.’ - -Now in another dirge[210] also heard by Schmidt in the same island, -this idea is worked out even more fully: the mother cries to the master -of the ship that bears away her lost son not to sell him, and offers -high ransom for him; but the dead man in answer bids her keep her -treasure; ‘not till the crow doth whiten and become a dove, must thou, -mother mine, look for me again.’ Clearly the imagery is borrowed not -from the ferry-boat of Charon plying for hire, but from a descent of -pirates who carry men off to hold them to ransom or to sell them for -slaves. In neither dirge is Charos actually named, but doubtless he is -understood to be the captain of the pirates; for in more than one dirge -of Laconia and Maina he is explicitly called κουρσάρος, a corsair[211]. - -Here then we have yet another presentation of the modern Charos; but -of Charon the ferryman there is no sure remembrance except in one song -from Zacynthos. Nor again, save in that one song, is the river of death -imagined as an impassable barrier; it is rather a stream of Lethe: no -boatman is needed to carry the dead across; but mention is made only -of ‘the loved ones, that pass the river and drink the water thereof, -and forget their homes and their orphan children[212]’--just as in the -mountains there are ‘springs in marble grots, whereat the wild sheep -drink and remember no more their lambs[213].’ It is the drinking of the -water, not the passing of the stream, which frees the dead from aching -memories: the picture is wholly different from that of a river which -cannot be crossed but by grace of the ferryman. - -The general oblivion into which the ancient conception of Charon has -fallen is the more remarkable, as I have said, in view of the survival -of a custom which in antiquity was closely associated with it. In parts -of Macedonia, Thrace, and Asia Minor the practice prevails[214], or -till recently prevailed, of placing in the mouth (or more rarely on -the breast) of the dead a small coin, which in the environs of Smyrna -is actually known as τὸ περατίκι, passage-money[215]. In the Cyclades -and in parts of the Greek mainland I myself have met aged persons -who could recall the existence of the custom: a century or two ago -it was probably frequent. But there is less evidence that the coin -was commonly intended for Charos. Protodikos indeed, the authority -for the existence of the custom in Asia Minor, writing in 1860, says -expressly that the coin was designed for Charos as ferryman; and the -name of ‘passage-money’ locally given to the coin tends to confirm -the statement of a writer whom I have found in some other matters -inaccurate. Another authority[216] moreover, writing also in 1860, -states that at Stenimachos in Thrace ‘until a short time ago’ the coin -was laid in the mouth of the dead actually for Charos; nor can there be -any question that the classical interpretation of the custom survived -long in Zacynthos, as is evidenced by the complaint of the poor man’s -soul in the song translated above, - - ’στερνὰ ἐμὲ δὲ μοὔδωκαν, δε μοὔδωκαν τσῆ καϋμένης, - μήτε λεφτὸ ’στὸ στόμα μου γιὰ σὲ ποῦ περιμένεις, - - ‘No last rites did they give me, they gave me none, poor soul, not - even a farthing in my mouth for thee (Charos) who awaitest me.’ - -Yet Schmidt, who recorded these lines from Zacynthos, found that the -actual custom was barely remembered there. He met indeed, in 1863, -one old woman aged eighty-two, who as a child had known the practice -of putting a copper in the mouth of the dead as also that of laying a -key on the corpse’s breast; but of the purpose of the coin she knew -nothing; the key she believed to be useful for opening the gates of -Paradise. For myself, though I have heard mention of the use of the -coin, I have never known it to be associated with Charos. I incline -therefore to the opinion that in most places where the custom is or has -recently been practised, it has outlived the interpretation which was -in classical times put upon it. - -But was the classical interpretation a true index to the origin of -the custom? Was it anything more than an aetiological explanation of -a custom whose significance even in an early age had already become -obscured by lapse of time? One thing at least has been made certain -by the modern study of folklore, namely that a custom may outlive not -only the idea which gave it birth but even successive false ideas which -it has itself engendered in the minds of men who have sought vainly -to explain it. When therefore Lucian[217] stated that ‘they put an -obol in the dead man’s mouth as boat-fare for the ferryman,’ it is -possible that he was recording a late and incorrect interpretation of -a custom which had existed before the rôle of ferryman had ever been -invented for Charon. Further if that interpretation had been in the -main a literary figment, it would have been natural for the original -meaning of the custom to be still remembered among the unlettered -common-folk of outlying districts. There are plenty of cases in modern -Greece in which different explanations of the same custom are offered -in different localities. In spite therefore of the fact that one view -only found expression in classical literature, there is no antecedent -improbability in the supposition that an older view may have been -handed down even to recent generations in the purer oral traditions of -the common-folk. - -Once only, from a fellow-traveller in the Cyclades, did I obtain any -explanation at all of the use of the coin, εἶναι καλὸ γιὰ τἀερικά[218], -‘it is useful because of the aërial ones.’ This sounds vague enough, -but nothing more save gestures of uncertainty could I elicit. Was the -coin useful, in his view, as a fee to be paid to ‘the aërial ones’ on -the soul’s journey from this world to the next, or as a charm against -the assaults of such beings? That was the question to which I sought an -answer from him, but in vain. For myself I cannot determine in which -sense the dark saying was actually meant. The former would accord well -with one local belief of the present day, if only my informant had -specified one particular kind of aërial beings who are believed to -take toll of departing souls; but to this I shall return in a later -section of this chapter[219]. The second interpretation of the words, -however, whether they were intended in that sense by the speaker or -not, furnishes what will be shown by other evidence to be the key to -the origin of the custom. - -A coin is often used as a charm against sinister influences[220]. In -this case then it may have been a prophylactic against aërial spirits. -Why then is it generally put in the dead man’s mouth? Not, I think, -because the mouth is a convenient purse, as seems to be assumed in the -classical interpretation of the custom, but because the mouth is the -entrance to the body. The peasants of to-day believe as firmly as men -of the Homeric age that it is through the mouth that the soul escapes -at death. The phrase μὲ τὴ ψυχὴ ’στὰ δόντια, ‘with the soul between -the teeth,’ is the popular equivalent for ‘at the last gasp’; and in -the folk-songs the same idea constantly recurs; ‘open thy mouth,’ says -Charos to a shepherd whom he has thrown in wrestling, ‘open thy mouth -that I may take thy soul[221].’ Now the passage by which the soul -makes its exit, is naturally the passage by which evil spirits (or the -soul[222], if it should return,) would make their entrance; and, as we -shall see later, there is a very real fear among the peasantry that a -dead body may be entered and possessed by an evil spirit. Clearly then -the mouth, by which the spirit would enter, is the right place in which -to lay the protective coin. - -The interpretation which I suggest gains support from some points in -modern usage. In Macedonia, according to one traveller[223], the coin -which formerly used to be laid in the corpse’s mouth was Turkish and -bore a text from the Koran, an aggravation of the pagan custom which -was made a pretext for episcopal intervention[224]. Now clearly, if the -coin had in that district been designed as payment for the services -of Charos as ferryman, there would have been no motive for preferring -one bearing an inscription from the Mohammedan scriptures, which -assuredly could not enhance the coin’s value in the eyes of Charos: -but if the coin was itself employed as a charm against evil spirits, -the sacred text might well have been deemed to add not a little to its -prophylactic properties. Thus the character of the particular type -of coin chosen indicates that the coin in itself too was at one time -viewed as a charm; a charm moreover whose effect would be precisely -that of the key which in the island of Zacynthos was also laid upon the -dead man’s breast; for the key was certainly not designed, as Schmidt’s -informant would have it, to open the gates of Paradise, but, like any -other piece of iron, served originally to scare away spirits. The use -of a coin as well as of a key in that island was merely meant to make -assurance doubly sure. - -Again, in many places throughout Greece, where this use of a coin is no -longer known, a substitute of more Christian character has been found. -On the lips of the dead is laid either a morsel of consecrated bread -from the Eucharist[225], or more commonly a small piece of pottery--a -fragment it may be of any earthenware vessel--on which is incised -the sign of the cross with the legend Ι. Χ. ΝΙ. ΚΑ. (‘Jesus Christ -conquers’) in the four angles[226]. Here the choice of the inscribed -words of itself seems to indicate the intention of barring the dead -man’s mouth against the entrance of evil spirits; and as final proof -of my theory I find that in both Chios[227] and Rhodes[228], where a -wholly or partially Christianised form of the custom prevails, the -charm employed is definitely understood by the people to be a means of -precaution against a devil entering the dead body and resuscitating it. -Nor must the mention of a devil in this connexion be taken as evidence -that the Chian and Rhodian interpretation of the custom is not ancient. -I shall be able to show in a later chapter that the idea of a devil -entering the corpse is only the Christian version of a pagan belief in -a possible re-animation of the corpse by the soul[229]. - -But there is yet another variety of the custom, in which no coin and no -Mohammedan nor Christian[230] symbol is used, but a charm whose magic -properties were in repute long before Mohammed, long before Christ, -probably long before coinage was known to Greece. Again a piece of -pottery is used, but the symbol stamped upon it is the geometrical -figure [pentagram], the ‘pentacle’ of mediaeval magic lore. In Greece -it is now known as τὸ πεντάλφα, but of its properties, beyond the fact -that it serves as a charm[231], the people have nothing to say. In the -mediaeval and probably in the yet earlier magic of Europe and the East -it is one of the commonest figures, appearing sometimes as Solomon’s -seal, sometimes as the star which led the wise men to Bethlehem, -sometimes, in black colouring, as a symbol of the principle of evil, -and correspondingly, in white, as the symbol of the principle of good. -But though the figure has been known to the magicians of many nations -and many epochs, there is no reason to suppose that it is in recent -times or from other races that the Greeks have learnt it: for it was -known too by the ancient Greeks, who noted among its more intelligible -properties the fact that the five lines composing it can be drawn -without removing pencil from paper. The Pythagoreans, who called it -the πεντάγραμμον[232], are known to have attached to it some mystic -value. There is a reasonable likelihood therefore that the symbol has -been handed down in Greece as a magical charm--for we have seen how -many other methods of magic have survived--from the time of Pythagoras. -Further back we cannot penetrate; yet--_vixere fortes ante Agamemnona_, -and there were professors of occult sciences before Pythagoras. Was -it then he who first discovered the figure’s mystic value? Or did he -merely adopt and interpret in his own way a symbol which for long ages -before him had been endowed with magical powers? Was it perhaps this -figure, graven on some broken potsherd, which long before coinage -supplied a more ready charm protected the corpse from possession by -evil spirits, or rather, in those days, from reanimation by the soul? -Who shall say? The belief, which has found its modern expression in -the engraving of Christian or Mohammedan texts on prophylactic coins -or pottery and in barring with them the door of the lips which gives -access to the corpse, is certainly primitive enough in character to -date from the dimmest prehistoric age. - -If my suggestion as to the origin of the custom is correct, it was only -the accident of a coin being commonly used as the prophylactic charm, -which caused the classical association of the custom with Charon; and, -once disembarrassed of this association, the popular conception of -Charon in antiquity is more easily studied. - -The literary presentation of him in the guise of a ferryman only is a -comparatively late development. The early poets know nothing of him -whatever in any character. The first literary reference to him was -apparently in the _Minyad_, an epic poem of doubtful but not early -date, of which two lines referring to the descent of Theseus and -Pirithous to the lower world ran thus: ‘There verily the ship whereon -the dead embark, even that which the aged Charon as ferryman doth -guide, they found not at its anchorage[233].’ These are the lines by -which Pausanias believed that Polygnotus had been guided when painting -the figure of Charon in his famous representation of the nether world -at Delphi. Thenceforth this was the one orthodox presentation of Charon -in both literature and art. Euripides and Aristophanes in numerous -passages[234] both alike conform to it, and the painters of funeral -vases were equally faithful. - -But there is evidence to show that this was not the popular conception -of Charon, or at any rate not the whole of it. Phrases occur (and were -probably current in classical times) which seem to imply a larger -conception of Charon’s office and functions. The ‘door of Charon’ -(Χαρώνειος θύρα[235] or Χαρώνειον[236]) was that by which condemned -prisoners were led out to execution. The ‘staircase of Charon’ -(Χαρώνειος κλίμαξ[237]) was that by which ghosts in drama ascended -to the stage, as if they were appearing from the nether world. To -Charon likewise were ascribed in popular parlance many caverns of -forbidding aspect, particularly those that were filled with mephitic -vapours--Χαρώνεια βάραθρα[238], σπήλαια[239], ἄντρα[240]. Finally -Χαρωνῖται is Plutarch’s[241] rendering of the Latin _Orcini_, the -_sobriquet_ given to the low persons whom Caesar brought up into the -Senate. These uses point to a popular conception of Charon larger -than classical art and literature reveal, and justify Suidas’ simple -identification of Charon with death[242]. - -Moreover once in Euripides, for all his strict adherence to the -conventional literary characterisation of Charon, a glimpse of popular -thought is reflected in the person of Death (Θάνατος) and the part -which he plays in the _Alcestis_. First, in the altercation between -Apollo and Death over the fate of Alcestis, there occur the words, -‘Take her and go thy way; for I know not whether I should persuade -thee’; to which Death answers, ‘Persuade me to slay those whom I must? -nay, ’tis with this that I am charged’ (τοῦτο γὰρ τετάγμεθα[243]). -Can it be a mere coincidence that, in modern folk-song, when some -doomed man seeks to persuade Charos to grant a respite, he answers, -‘Nay, brave sir, I cannot; for I am straitly charged’? The very word -‘charged,’ προσταμμένος, the modern form of προστεταγμένος, repeats -the word placed by Euripides in the mouth of Death. Secondly, Death -appears in warrior-guise, just as does Charos most commonly in modern -folk-songs; he is girt with a sword[244], and it is by wrestling[245] -that Heracles vanquishes him and makes him yield up his prey. Is this -again a mere coincidence? Or was Euripides, in his personification -of Death, utilising the character popularly assigned to Charon? It -looks indeed in one line as if the poet had almost forgotten that he -was not using the popular name also; otherwise there is no excuse -for the inelegance of making Death inflict death[246]. It is hardly -surprising that the copyist of one[247] of the extant manuscripts of -the _Alcestis_ was so impressed with the likeness of Death to Charon -as he knew him, that he altered the name of the _dramatis persona_ -accordingly. - -In the Anthology again Charon appears several times[248] acting in a -more extended capacity than that of ferryman; as in modern folk-songs, -he actually seizes men and carries them off to the nether world. One -epigram is particularly noticeable as seeming to have been suggested by -a passage of the _Alcestis_. ‘Is there then any way whereby Alcestis -might come unto old age?’ asks Apollo; and Death answers, ‘There is -none; I too must have the pleasure of my dues.’ ‘Yet,’ says Apollo, -‘thou wilt not get more than the one soul,’--be it now or later. And -similarly the epigram from the Anthology, save that Death is frankly -named Charon. ‘Charon ever insatiable, why hast thou snatched away -Attalus needlessly in his youth? Was he not thine, an he had died old?’ - -Clearly, it would seem, Euripides knew a popular conception of Charon -other than that which literary and artistic tradition had crystallised -as the orthodox presentation, but rather than break through the -conventions by bringing Charon on the stage otherwise than as ferryman, -he had recourse to a purely artificial personification of death. - -But the conception of Charon as lord of death can be traced yet -further back than the time of Euripides. Hesychius states that the -title Ἀκμονίδης[249] was shared by two gods, Charon and Uranus. Charon -therefore, as son of Acmon and brother of Uranus, is earlier by two -long generations of gods than Zeus himself, and belongs to the old -Pelasgian order of deities. Was Charon then the god of death among the -old Pelasgian population of Greece, before ever the name of Hades or -Pluto had been invented or imported? Yes, if the corroboration from -another Pelasgian source, the Etruscans, is to count for anything. On -an Etruscan monument figures the god of death with the inscription -‘Charun’[250]; and the same person is frequently depicted on urns, -sarcophagi, and vases[251]. Usually the door of the nether world is -to be seen behind him; either he is issuing forth to seek his prey, -or he is about to enter there with a victim who stands close beside -him, his hand clasped in that of wife or friend to whom he bids -farewell[252]. In appearance he is most often an old bearded man -(though a more youthful type is also known) bearing an axe or mallet, -and more rarely a sword as well, wherewith he pursues men and slays -them[253]. In effect the Etruscan Charun closely corresponds with the -modern Greek Charos in functions as well as in name. The coincidence -allows of one explanation only. The Greeks of the present day must -have inherited their idea of Charos from ancestors who were closely -connected with the Etruscans and to whom Charon was the god of death -who came to seize men’s souls and carry them off to his realm in the -nether world. These ancestors can only have been the original Pelasgian -population of Greece. In classical times the primitive conception -of Charon was in abeyance. Hades had assumed the reins of government -in the nether world; and a literary legend, which confined Charon -to the work of ferryman, had gained vogue and supplanted or rather -temporarily suppressed the older conception. But this version, it -appears, never gained complete mastery of the popular imagination, and -to the common-folk of Greece from the Pelasgian era down to this day -Charon has ever been more warrior than ferryman, and his equipment an -axe or sword or bow rather than a pair of sculls. More is to be learnt -of the real Charon of antiquity from modern folk-lore than from all the -allusions of classical literature. - - -§ 7. APHRODITE AND EROS. - -In the story of S. Demetra communicated to Lenormant at Eleusis and -narrated above, we have already had one instance of the preservation of -Aphrodite’s name. ‘Since the lady Aphrodite (ἡ κυρὰ ‘φροδίτη) none had -been seen so lovely’ as S. Demetra’s daughter. Another story related to -Perrot[254] by an Attic peasant in the year 1858 contains both the name -of the goddess and some reminiscences of her worship. The gist of it is -as follows. There once was a very beautiful queen, by name Aphrodite, -who had a castle at Daphni (just half-way on the road from Athens to -Eleusis) and also owned the heights of Acro-Corinth; these two places -she had caused to be connected by a subterranean way which passed under -the sea. Now there were two kings both of whom were smitten with her -beauty and sought her hand in marriage. She herself favoured one of -them and hated the other; but not wishing to declare her preference and -so arouse the anger of the rejected suitor, she announced that she was -about to build a palace on the height of Acro-Corinth, and would set -her suitors each a task to perform; one should build the fortifications -round the summit, the other should sink a well to provide the castle -with water[255]; and she promised her hand to the suitor who should -first complete his task. Now she supposed the sinking of the well -to be the lighter task and therefore assigned it to the suitor whom -she favoured; but he met with unforeseen difficulties, and his rival -meanwhile made steady progress with the walls. At last they were -wellnigh built, and it remained only to put in place the keystone over -the main gate. Then Aphrodite, marking the danger, went with winning -words and smiles and bade the builder lay aside his tools, for the -prize was now safely in his grasp, and led him away to a grassy spot -where she beguiled him so long with tender words and caresses, that -the other suitor meanwhile redoubling his efforts pierced the rock and -found water in plenty. - -In this story the character, as well as the name, of the queen -is that of the ancient goddess; but there are other points too -deserving of notice. Perrot points out that in the neighbourhood of -the modern monastery at Daphni there stood in antiquity a temple -of Aphrodite[256]; and to this fact Schmidt[257], in commenting on -the story, adds that on the summit of Acro-Corinth also there was a -sanctuary of the goddess[258], while he accounts for the mention of -that place in an Attic story by the fact that Corinth was specially -famous for the worship of Aphrodite. - -No other vestiges of the actual name, so far as I know, are to be -found, save that among certain Maniote settlers in Corsica the corrupt -derivative, Ἀφροδήτησσα[259] (which would perhaps be better spelt -Ἀφροδίτισσα) was until recent times at any rate applied to an equally -corrupt class of women, votaries of Ἀφροδίτη Πάνδημος. In a few stories -however from Zacynthos[260] the same goddess is prettily described as ἡ -μάνα τοῦ Ἔρωτα[261], ‘the Mother of Love,’ a title competent in itself -to establish her identity. - -The first of these stories tells how a poor maiden fell in love with a -youth of high degree, and went to the Mother of Love to ask her help. -The latter promised to ask the assistance of her son Eros (Ἔρωτας) when -he came home. Next morning went Eros with bow and arrows and sat at the -maiden’s door till the swain passed by. Then suddenly he shot his arrow -at him, and the young man loved the maiden and took her to wife. - -Another yet more remarkable story introduces us to the garden of Eros, -whither a prince once went to fetch water to cure the blindness of -the king, his father. ‘There at the entrance he beheld a woman that -was the fairest upon earth; she sat at the gate and played with a boy -who had wings and in his hand held a bow and many arrows. The garden -was full of roses, and over them hovered many little winged boys like -butterflies. In the midst of this garden was a spring, whence the -healing water flowed. As the king’s son drew near to this spring, he -espied therein a woman white as snow and shining as the moon; and it -was in very truth the moon that bathed there. Beside the spring sat a -second woman of exceeding beauty who was the Mother of Eros (ἡ μάνα τοῦ -Ἔρωτα).’ She gave him the water and her blessing, and his father was -healed. - -The distinct reminiscence of Artemis in this story will be noticed -later[262]; here we need only notice a few points in the story relating -to Eros and his mother. The description of the ‘boy who had wings -and in his hand held a bow and many arrows’ is simply and purely -classical, according exactly with the Orphic address to him as τοξάλκη, -πτερόεντα[263]. The ‘woman at the gate who was the fairest upon earth’ -is in all probability the same as ‘the Mother of Eros’ beside the -spring, the single personality, by some vagary in the transmission of -the story, having become duplicated. The roses, of which the garden was -full, are the flower always sacred to Aphrodite, the sweetest emblem of -love; and over these it is fitting that the ‘little winged boys’ should -hover, brothers as it were of Eros, ever-fresh embodiments of love, to -all of whom, in antiquity, Aphrodite was mother[264]. - -These folk-tales present sufficient evidence that the memory of the -name and attributes of Aphrodite survived locally until recent times -to warrant the conclusion that her worship, like that of other pagan -deities, possessed vitality enough to compete for a long while with -Christianity for the favour of the common-folk; but as a personality -she is no longer present, I think, to their consciousness; she is at -most only a character in a few folk-stories--if indeed the present -generation has not forgotten even these. For my part, I never heard -mention of her in story or otherwise, although her son, the winged -Eros, is often named in the love-songs which form a large part of the -popular poetry. - -Vows and offerings which would in former days have been made to -Aphrodite are now made either to suitable saints who have taken her -place, such as S. Catharine[265], or to the Fates (Μοίραις), who -were from of old associated with her. According to a fragment of -Epimenides[266], ‘golden Aphrodite and the deathless Fates’ were -daughters of Cronos and Euonyme. Their sisterly relation was recognised -also in cult. Near the Ilissus once stood a temple containing an old -wooden statue (ξόανον) of Heavenly Aphrodite with an inscription naming -her ‘eldest of the Fates’ (πρεσβυτέρα τῶν Μοιρῶν)[267]. So venerable a -shrine must in old time have witnessed many a petition for success in -love; and when we bear in mind the ancient inscription of the statue, -it is interesting to find that among the girls of Athens until recent -times the custom prevailed of visiting the so-called ‘hollow hill[268]’ -(τρύπιο βουνό) in the immediate neighbourhood to offer to the Fates -cakes with honey and salt and to consult them as to their destined -husbands[269]. - -Sacred also to Aphrodite in old days was a cave in the neighbourhood -of Naupactus, frequented particularly by widows anxious to be -remarried[270]. At the present day a cave at the foot of Mt Rigani, -which may probably be identified as the old sanctuary, is the spot to -which girls repair in order to consult the Fates on the all-absorbing -question[271]. - -Thus it seems that ‘golden Aphrodite’ has disappeared from the old -sisterly group of deities, and that ‘the deathless Fates’ alone remain -to receive prayers and to grant boons which once fell within the -province rather of Aphrodite. To the Fates we must now turn. - - -§ 8. THE FATES. - -The custom of taking or sending offerings to a cave haunted by the -Fates, of which we have just seen two examples, is widely extended -among the women of Greece. In Athens, besides the ‘hollow hill,’ two -or three of the old rock-dwellings round about the Hill of the Muses -were formerly a common resort for the same purpose, and the practice -though rarer now is not yet extinct[272]. Among the best-known of these -resorts is the so-called Prison of Socrates. Dodwell, in his account -of his travels in Greece at the beginning of last century, states that -he found there ‘in the inner chamber, a small feast consisting of a -cup of honey and white almonds, a cake on a little napkin, and a vase -of aromatic herbs burning and exhaling an agreeable perfume[273]’; and -the observance of the custom is known to have continued in that place -down to recent years[274]. The same practice, I was informed at Sparta, -is known at the present day to the peasant-women of the surrounding -plain, who will undertake even a long and wearisome journey to lay a -honey-cake in a certain cave on one of the eastern spurs of Taÿgetus. -Other places in which to my own knowledge the custom still continues -are Agrinion in Aetolia and neighbouring districts, the villages of Mt -Pelion in Thessaly, and the island of Scyros; and from the testimony -of many other observers I conclude that it is, or was till recently, -universal in Greek lands. - -Nor does there seem to be much variety in the subjects on which the -peasant-women consult the Fates: with the girls matrimony, with the -married women maternity, is the perpetually recurring theme. Everywhere -also honey in some form is an essential part of the offering by which -the Fates’ favour is to be won. The acceptance of this offering, and -therefore also the success of the prayers which accompany it, are -occasionally, as in the cave near Sparta which I have mentioned, -inferred from omens provided by the dripping of water from the roof of -the cave; but more usually the realisation of the conjugal aspirations -is not assured, unless a second visit to the sanctuary, three days or a -month later, proves that the sweetmeats have been accepted by the Fates -and are gone. This, I am told, occurs with some frequency. Dodwell -mentions that his donkey ate some[275]; and considering the character -of the offerings--cakes and honey for the most part, for only in the -‘hollow hill’ at Athens was salt added thereto--it is not surprising -if the Fates find many willing proxies, human and canine as well as -asinine. - -At the moment when these delicacies are proffered, an invocation is -recited. This may take the form of a metrical line, - - Μοίραις μου, μοιράνετέ με, καὶ καλὸ φαγὶ σας φέρνω, - - ‘Kind Fates, ordain my fate, for I bring you good fare,’ - -or may be a simple prose formulary, - - Μοίραις τῶν Μοιρῶν καὶ τῆς τάδε ἡ Μοῖρα, κοπιάστε νὰ φᾶτε καὶ νὰ - ξαναμοιράνετε τὴν τάδε νἄχῃ καλὴ μοῖρα[276], - - ‘Fates above all Fates, and Fate of N., come ye, I pray, and eat, and - ordain anew the fate of N., that she may have a good fate.’ - -Various other versions are also on record, one of which will be -considered later; but these two examples illustrate sufficiently for -the present the simple Homeric tenour of such prayers. - -The words which I have quoted, it must be admitted, give clear -expression to the hope that the Fates may revise the decrees which they -have already pronounced on the fortunes of the suppliant. Nevertheless -that such a hope should be fulfilled is contrary to the general beliefs -of the people. The Fates, they know, are inexorable so far as concerns -the changing of any of their purposes once set; for, as their proverb -runs, ὅτι γράφουν ᾑ Μοίραις, δὲν ξεγράφουν, ‘what the Fates write, -that they make not unwritten[277].’ They are not, it would appear, -subordinate, as Charon is sometimes deemed to be, even to the supreme -God; I can find no song or story that would so present them. They are -absolute and irresponsible in the fashioning of human destiny. But the -Greek peasants are not the first who have at the same time believed -both in predestination and in the efficacy of prayer. Perhaps all -unconsciously they reconcile the ideas as did Aeschylus of old: - - τὸ μόρσιμον μένει πάλαι, - εὐχομένοις δ’ ἂν ἔλθοι[278], - - ‘Destiny hath long been abiding its time, but in answer to prayer may - come.’ - -But even without any intuition of so hard a doctrine the peasant-women -may justify their prayers and offerings by the hope that, though the -Fates will detract nothing from the fulfilment of whatsoever they have -spoken or written, they may be willing to add thereto such supplement -as shall modify in large measure the issue. For the Fates are as Greek -in character as their worshippers, and stories are not wanting to -illustrate the shifts to which they have stooped in order practically -to invalidate without formally cancelling their whilom purpose. - -‘Once upon a time a poor woman gave birth to a daughter, and on the -third night after the birth the Fates came to ordain the child’s lot. -As they entered the cottage they saw prepared for them a table with -a clean cloth and all manner of sweetmeats thereon. So when they had -partaken thereof and were content, they were kindly disposed toward the -child. And the first Fate gave to her long life, and the second beauty, -and the third chastity. But as they went forth from the cottage, the -first of them tripped against the threshold, and turning in wrath -towards the infant pronounced that she should be always an idler. - -Now when she was grown up, she was so beautiful that the king’s son -would have her to wife. As the wedding-day drew near, her mother and -her friends chided her because she delayed to make her wedding dress; -but she was idle and heeded not. Soon came the eve of the wedding, and -she wept because the prince would learn of her idleness and refuse to -take her to wife. Now the Fates loved her, and saw her tears and pitied -her. Therefore they came suddenly before her, and asked why she wept; -and she told them all. Then sat they down there and spun and weaved and -embroidered all that night, and in the morning they arrayed her in a -bridal dress decked with gold and pearls such as had never been seen. - -Presently came the prince, and there was much feasting and dancing, and -she was far the most beautiful of all the company. And because he saw -her lovely dress and knew how much toil it must have cost her to array -herself thus for him, he granted her the favour of doing no more work -all her days[279].’ - -This story, besides illustrating well the finality of every word -pronounced by the Fates and the means which they may employ to mitigate -their own severity, is typical too of the ideas generally accepted -concerning the Fates. Their number is three[280], and they are seen -in the shape of old women, one of whom at least is always engaged -in spinning. Of the remaining two, one is sometimes seen bearing a -book wherein to record in writing the decrees which the three jointly -utter, while the other carries a pair of scissors wherewith to cut the -thread of life at the appointed time; or again sometimes these two -also are spinning, one of them carrying a basket of wool or a distaff -and the other fashioning the thread. This association of the Fates -with spinning operations is commemorated in certain popular phrases by -the comparison of man’s life to a thread. ‘His thread is cut’ or ‘is -finished’ (κόπηκε or σώθηκε ἡ κλωστή του) is a familiar euphemism for -‘he is dead’: and again, with the same ultimate meaning but a somewhat -different metaphor, the people of Arachova use the phrase μαζώθηκε τὸ -κουβάρ’ του[281], ‘his spindle is wound full,’--an expression which -seems to imply the idea that the Fates apportion to each man at birth a -mass of rough wool from which they go on spinning day by day till the -thread of life is completed. - -According to Fauriel[282], a reminiscence of the Fates is also to be -found in a personification of the plague (ἡ πανοῦκλα), which in the -tradition of some districts is not represented as a single demon but -has been multiplied into a trio of terrible women who pass through -the towns and devastate them, one of them carrying a roll on which to -write the names of the victims, another a pair of scissors wherewith -to cut them off from the living, and the third a broom with which to -sweep them away. He assigns however no reason for identifying the -deadly trio with the Fates, and it is more natural, if any link with -antiquity here exists, to connect them with the Erinyes[283] or other -similar deities. In fact their resemblance to the Fates, save for some -superficial details, is small. The Fates, though inexorable when once -their decree is pronounced, are never wantonly cruel. Their displeasure -may indeed be aroused by neglect, as we shall shortly see, to such an -extent that they will visit the sins of the fathers upon the children. -But, when men treat them with the consideration and the reverence due -to deities, they are unfailingly kindly, and deserve the title by which -they are sometimes known, ᾑ καλοκυράδες, ‘the good ladies.’ For this -name is not an euphemism concealing dread and hatred, but an expression -of genuine reverence; such at any rate is my judgement, based on many -conversations with the common-folk in all parts of Greece--for on this -topic for some reason there is far less reticence than on many others. -And indeed if the character of the Fates were believed to be cruel, -their aspect also would be represented as grim and menacing; whereas -they are actually pourtrayed as deserving almost of pity rather than -awe by reason of their age and their infirmity. - -The occasion on which the Fates have most often been seen by human eyes -and on which, even though invisible, they never fail to be present, -is the third night (or as some say the fifth night[284]) after the -birth of a child. Provision for their arrival is then scrupulously -made. The dog is chained up. Any obstacles over which the visitors -might trip in the darkness are removed. The house-door is left open -or at any rate unlatched. Inside a light is kept burning, and in the -middle of the room is set a low table with three cushions or low stools -placed round it--religious conservatism apparently forbidding the use -of so modern an invention as chairs, for at the lying-in-state before -a funeral also cushions or low stools are provided for the mourners. -On the table are set out such dainties as the Fates love, including -always honey; in Athens formerly the essentials were a dish of honey, -three white almonds, a loaf of bread, and a glass of water[285]; and -ready to hand, as presents from which the goddesses may choose what -they will, may be laid all the most costly treasures of the family, -such as jewellery and even money, in token that nothing has been spared -to give them welcome. These preparations made, their visit is awaited -in solemn silence; for none must speak when the Fates draw near. Most -often they are neither seen nor heard; but sometimes, it is said, a -wakeful mother has seen their forms as they bent over her child and -wrote their decrees on its brow--for which reason moles and other marks -on the forehead or the nose are in some places called γραψίματα τῶν -Μοιρῶν[286], ‘writings of the Fates’; sometimes she has heard the low -sound of their voices as they consulted together over the future of -the child; nay more, she has even caught and understood their speech; -yet even so her foreknowledge of the infant’s fate is unavailing; she -may be aware of the dangers which await its ripening years, but though -forewarned she is powerless to forearm; against destiny once pronounced -all weapons, all wiles, are futile. - -Neglect of any of the due preparations for the visit of the Fates may -excite their wrath and cause them to decree an evil lot for the child. -This idea is the _motif_ of many fables current in Greece. A typical -example is furnished by the following extract from a popular poem in -which a man whose life has brought him nothing but misery sees in a -vision one of the Fates and appeals to her thus: - - ‘I beg and pray of thee, O Fate, to tell me now, my lady, - Then when my mother brought me forth, what passèd at my bearing?’ - -And she makes answer: - - ‘Then when thy mother brought thee forth, ’twas deep and bitter winter, - Eleven days o’ the year had run when anguish came upon her. - Thereon[287] I robed me and did on this raiment that thou seëst, - And had it in my heart to cry “Long life to thee and riches.” - Ah, but the night was deep and dark, yea wrappèd thick in darkness, - And hail and snow were driving hard, and angry rain was lashing; - From mire to mud, from mud to mire, so lay my road before me, - And as I went,--a murrain on’t,--against your well I stumbled; - Nay, sirrah, an thou believest not, scan well the scars I carry. - Two cursed hounds ye had withal, hounds from the Lombard country, - And fierce upon me sprang the twain, and fierce as wolves their baying. - Then cursèd I thee full bitterly, a curse of very venom, - That no bright day should ever cheer thy miserable body, - That thou shouldst burn, that thou shouldst burn, and have no hope of riddance, - That joy should ever ’scape thy clasp, and sorrow dog thy goings, - That thine own kin should slander thee and thy friends rail upon thee, - Nor strangers nor thy countrymen know aught of love toward thee. - Yet, hapless man, not thine the sin; thy parents’ was the sinning, - That chainèd not those hounds right fast to a corner of their dwelling; - Well is it said by men of old, well bruit they loud the saying, - “The fathers eat of acid things, and the bairns’ teeth fall aching.” - Have patience then, O hapless man, a year or twain of patience, - And there shall come a happy day when all thy woes shall vanish; - For all thy bitterness of soul thou shalt find consolation, - Thy dreams of beauty and of wealth thou shalt at last encompass[288].’ - -The Fates, it has been already said, are three in number; why so, it -seems impossible to determine. It may be that the functions discharged -by them fell readily into a three-fold division; thus in the district -of Zagorion in Epirus, one Fate ‘spins the thread’ (κλώθει τὸ γνέμα) -which determines the length of life, the second apportions good -fortune, and the third bad[289]. Or again, the division may have been -made in such a way that one Fate should preside over each of the -three great events of human experience, birth, marriage, and death. -The term ‘fate’ (μοῖρα)[290] is often used by women as a synonym for -marriage (γάμος)--in curious contrast with the man’s more optimistic -description of his wedding as χαρά, ‘joy’; and a Greek proverb, used of -a very ignorant man, δὲν ξέρει τὰ τρία κακὰ τῆς Μοίρας του, ‘he does -not know the three evils of his Fate,’ to wit birth, marriage, and -death, carries the connexion of fate with these three events a little -further. But such distributions of functions are probably posterior to -the choice of the number. Three was always a sacred number, and the -ancients delighted in trinities of goddesses[291]. - -But besides the three great Fates we must recognise also in modern -Greece the existence of lesser Fates, attached each to a single human -life. This is a slight extension of the main belief, and consists -really in the personification of the objective fate which the three -great Fates decree. Just as each man is believed to have his good -guardian-angel and, by antithesis but with less biblical warranty, his -bad angel, so too he is accompanied by his own personal Fate. But these -lesser Fates are only faint replicas of the great trinity, and I doubt -whether they are believed to have any independent power of their own; -they would seem to be mere ministers who carry out the original decrees -of the three supreme Fates. - -Often in the popular songs it is impossible to tell whether it is the -lesser personal Fate or one of the great trio who is addressed. For in -such lines as, - - Παρακαλῶ σε, Μοῖρα μου, νὰ μή με ξενιτέψῃς, - Κι’ ἂν λάχῃ καὶ ξενιτευτῶ, θάνατο μή μου δώσῃς[292], - - ‘I pray thee, good Fate, send me not to a strange land, but if it be - my lot to be sent, let me not die there,’ - -the form of address Μοῖρα μου (literally ‘my Fate’) implies no personal -possession, but is the same as that employed in praying to God or the -Virgin, Θεέ μου, Παναγία μου. But in definite forms of incantation, -composed for recitation along with propitiatory offerings, the great -Fates and the lesser Fate of the individual suppliant are coupled in a -way which shows the difference in importance between them. The former -are called ‘the Fates over all Fates’ (ἡ Μοίραις τῶν Μοιρῶν), as in the -plain prose formulary quoted above; the latter is merely the Fate of -this or that person. - -Whether these inferior Fates were known also in the classical period -is a question which I am unable to answer; but that the belief in them -is certainly of no recent growth is proved by an incantation more -elaborate than those given above and on internal evidence very old:-- - - ’π’ τὸν Ὄλυμπον, τὸν κόλυμβον, - τὰ τρία ἄκρα τοὐρανοῦ, - ὁποῦ ᾑ Μοίραις τῶν Μοιρῶν - καὶ ἡ ’δική μου Μοῖρα, - ἂς ἀκούσῃ καὶ ἂς ἔλθῃ[293]. - - ‘From Olympus, even from the summit, from the three heights of heaven, - where dwell the Fates of all Fates and my own Fate, may she hearken - and come.’ - -The version of the formula which I have given is only one out of -several which have been recorded from various parts of Greece[294], -and there can be no doubt that the original was a widely-esteemed -incantation. I have given the most intelligible; but the mere fact -that some of the others, through verbal corruption in the course -of tradition, have become almost meaningless, is strong proof of -the antiquity of the original. There are however two clear marks of -antiquity in the version before us. The mention of Olympus as the abode -of deities carries us back at once to the classical age; and the word -κόλυμβος in the sense of ‘summit’ is no less suggestive of a very early -date. The ancient word κόρυμβος, used in this sense by Aeschylus[295] -and by Herodotus[296], is obsolete now in the spoken language. But -κόλυμβος is evidently either a dialectic form of it (with the common -interchange of λ and ρ) or else a corrupt form, not understood by those -who continued to use it in this incantation, and assimilated, by way of -assonance, to Ὄλυμπος. Further one of the other versions gives the word -as κόρυβο[297], where the original ρ is retained but the μ lost before -β, which now universally has the sound of the English _v_. A comparison -of the two forms therefore establishes beyond question the fact that -the somewhat rare classical word κόρυμβος, in its known meaning of -‘summit,’ was the original form. Hence the incantation, containing both -a mention of Olympus as the seat of deities and an old classical word -long since disused, cannot but date from very early times. Possibly -therefore the belief in subordinate Fates, attached each to one human -being, was known to the common-folk of the classical age. - -But, be this as it may, the popular conception of the great Trinity of -Fates has persisted unchanged for more than a score of centuries--and -who shall say for how many more? Here the literary tradition of -classical times was evidently faithful to popular traditions. The -number of the Fates is still the same as in Hesiod’s day[298]; they -are still depicted as old and infirm women, as they were by the poets -at any rate in antiquity, though in ancient art, for beauty’s sake, -they are apt to be figured as more youthful; it is still their task -‘to assign to mortal men at their birth,’ as Hesiod knew, ‘both good -and ill[299]’; the functions of Clotho who spun the thread of life, of -Lachesis who apportioned destiny, and of Atropos whom none might turn -from her purpose, are still the joint functions of the great Three; the -book, the spindle, and an instrument for cutting the thread of life are -still their attributes. - -There is little new therefore to be learnt from the study of the -Fates in modern folk-lore. The lesson which it teaches rather is the -continuity of the present with the past. But there is one point to -which special attention may perhaps be directed--the belief that the -Fates invariably visit each child that is born in order to decree -its lot. I do not wish to engage in the controversy which has raged -round the identification of the figures in the east pediment of the -Parthenon; but those who would recognise among them the three Fates -may fairly draw a fresh argument from the strength of this popular -belief. It is only fitting that at the birth of Athena from the head -of Zeus the Fates should be present; for even Zeus himself, said -Aeschylus[300], might not escape their decree. - - -§ 9. THE NYMPHS. - -Of all the supernatural beings who haunt the path and the imagination -of the modern Greek peasant by far the most common are the Nymphs -or ‘Nereids’ (Νεράϊδες). The name itself occurs in a multitude of -dialectic varieties[301], but its meaning is everywhere uniform, and -more comprehensive than that of the ancient word. It is no longer -confined to nymphs of the sea, but embraces also their kindred of -mountain, river, and woodland. There is no longer a Nereus, god of -the sea, to claim the Nereids as his daughters, denizens like himself -of the deep; and the connexion of their name with the modern word for -‘water’ (νερό) is not understanded of the common-folk. Hence there has -been nothing to restrain the extension of the term Νεράϊδα, and it has -entirely superseded, in this sense, the ancient νύμφη, which in modern -speech can only mean ‘a bride.’ - -The familiarity of the peasants with the Nereids is more intimate than -can be easily imagined by those who have merely travelled, it may -be, through the country but have no knowledge of the people in their -homes. The educated classes of course, and with them some of the less -communicative of the peasants, will deny all belief in such beings -and affect to deride as old wives’ fables the many stories concerning -them. But in truth the belief is one which even men of considerable -culture fail sometimes to eradicate from their own breasts. A paper -on the Nereids (the nucleus of the present chapter) was read by me in -Athens at an open meeting of the British School; and no sooner was it -ended than an Athenian gentleman whose name is well known in certain -learned circles throughout Europe rose hurriedly crossing himself and -disappeared without a word of leave-taking. As for the peasants, let -them deny or avow their belief, there is probably no nook or hamlet -in all Greece where the womenfolk at least do not scrupulously take -precautions against the thefts and the malice of the Nereids, while -many a man may still be found ready to recount in all good faith -stories of their beauty and passion and caprice. Nor is it a matter -of faith only; more than once I have been in villages where certain -Nereids were known by sight to several persons (so at least they -averred); and there was a wonderful agreement among the witnesses -in the description of their appearance and dress. I myself once had -a Nereid pointed out to me by my guide, and there certainly was the -semblance of a female figure draped in white and tall beyond human -stature flitting in the dusk between the gnarled and twisted boles -of an old olive-yard. What the apparition was, I had no leisure to -investigate; for my guide with many signs of the cross and muttered -invocations of the Virgin urged my mule to perilous haste along the -rough mountain-path. But had I inherited, as he, a belief in Nereids -together with a fertile gift of mendacity, I should doubtless have -corroborated the highly-coloured story which he told when we reached -the light and safety of the next village; and the ready acceptance of -the story by those who heard it proved to me that a personal encounter -with Nereids was really reckoned among the possible incidents of -every-day life. - -The awe in which the Nereids are held is partially responsible, without -doubt, for the many adulatory by-names by which they are known. Now and -again indeed a peasant, when he is suffering from some imagined injury -at their hands, may so far speak his mind concerning them as to call -them ‘evil women’ (κακαὶς or ἄσχημαις γυναῖκες): but in general his -references are more diplomatic and conciliatory in tone. He adopts the -same attitude towards them as did his forefathers towards the Furies; -and, though the actual word ‘Eumenides’ is lost to his vocabulary, -the spirit of his address is unchanged. ‘The Ladies’ (ᾑ κυρᾶδες), -‘Our Maidens’ (τὰ κουρίτσι̯α μας), ‘Our good Queens’ (ᾑ καλαὶς -ἀρχόντισσαις), ‘The kind-hearted ones’ (ᾑ καλόκαρδαις), ‘The ladies -to whom we wish joy’ (ᾑ χαιράμεναις), or most commonly of all ‘Our -good Ladies’ (ᾑ καλοκυρᾶδες or καλλικυρᾶδες)[302],--such is the wonted -style of his adulation, in which the frequent use of the word κυρᾶδες -(the plural of κυρά, i.e. κυρία) is a heritage from his ancestors who -made dedications ‘to the lady nymphs’ (κυρίαις νύμφαις). Yet it may be -questioned whether these by-names are wholly euphemistic; for mingled -with the awe which the Nereids inspire there is certainly an element of -admiration and, I had almost said, of affection in the feelings of the -common-folk toward them. - -The Nereids are conceived as women half-divine yet not immortal, always -young, always beautiful, capricious at best, and at their worst -cruel. Their presence is suspected everywhere; grim forest-depth and -laughing valley, babbling stream and wind-swept ridge, tree and cave -and pool, each may be their chosen haunt, the charmed scene of their -dance and song and godlike revelry. The old distinctions between the -nymphs according to their habitations still to some extent hold good; -there are nymphs of the sea and nymphs of the streams, tree-nymphs -and mountain-nymphs; but in characteristics these several classes -are alike, in grace, in frolic, in wantonness. Of all that is light -and mirthful they are the ideal; of all that is lovely the exquisite -embodiment; and their hearts beneath are ever swayed by fierce gusts of -love and of hate. - -The beauty of the Nereids, the sweetness of their voices, and the grace -and litheness of their movements have given rise to many familiar -phrases which are eloquent of feelings other than awe in the people’s -minds. ‘She is fair as a Nereid’ (εἶνε ὤμορφη σὰ νεράϊδα), ‘she has -the eyes, the arms, the bosom of a Nereid’ (ἔχει μάτια, χέρια, βυζιὰ -νεράϊδας), ‘she sings, she dances, like a Nereid’ (τραγουδάει, χορεύει, -σὰ νεράϊδα),--such are the compliments time and again passed upon a -bride, whose white dress and ornaments of gold seem to complete the -resemblance. Possibly the twofold usage in antiquity of the word νύμφη -is responsible for a still surviving association of bridal dress with -the Nereids; it is at any rate to the peasants’ mind an incontestable -fact that white and gold are the colours chiefly affected by Nereids in -their dress[303]. - -Only in one particular is the beauty of the Nereids ever thought to -be marred; in some localities they are said to have the feet of goats -or of asses[304]; as for instance the three Nereids who are believed -to dance together without pause on the heights of Taÿgetus. But this -is a somewhat rare and local trait, and must have been transferred to -them, it would seem, from Pan and his attendant satyrs, with whom of -old they were wont to consort; in general they are held to be of beauty -unblemished. - -Their accomplishments include, besides singing and dancing, the humbler -arts of the good housewife. ‘She cooks like a Nereid’ (μαγειρεύει -σὰ νεράϊδα) and ‘she does house-cleaning like a Nereid’ (παστρεύει -σὰν ἀνεράϊδα) are phrases of commendation[305] occasionally heard. -But chiefly do they excel in the art of spinning[306]; and so well -known is their dexterity therein that a delicate kind of creeper with -which trees are often festooned is known in the vulgar tongue under -the pretty name of νεραϊδογνέματα, ‘Nereid-spinnings.’ The attribute -indeed is natural and obvious; for the popular conception of the -nymphs is but an idealisation of the peasant-women, to whom, whether -sitting in the sunlight at their cottage-door or tending their sheep -and goats afield, the distaff is an ever constant companion. But, easy -though it is to account for the trait, some interest, if no great -measure of importance, attaches to its consonance with the ancient -characterisation of Nymphs. To the Nereids proper[307] a golden spindle -was specially assigned; and in the cave of the Naiads in Ithaca might -be seen, in Odysseus’ day, the kindred occupation of weaving, for -‘therein were great looms of stone whereon the nymphs wove sea-purple -robes, a wonder to behold[308].’ - -As might be expected of beings so divinely feminine, their relations -with men and with women are very different; in the one case there -is the possibility of love; in the other the certainty of spite. It -is necessary therefore to examine their attitude towards either sex -separately. - -The marriage of men with Nereids not only forms the theme of many -folk-stories current in Greece, but in the more remote districts is -still regarded as a credible occurrence. Even at the present day the -traveller may hear of families in whose ancestry of more or less remote -date is numbered a Nereid. A Thessalian peasant whom I once met claimed -a Nereid-grandmother, and little as his looks warranted the assumption -of any grace or beauty in so near an ancestor--he happened to have a -squint--his claim appeared to be admitted by his fellow-villagers, and -a certain prestige attached to him. Hence the epithet ‘Nereid-born’ -(νεραϊδογεννημένος or νεραϊδοκαμωμένος) frequently heard in amatory -distichs[309] may formerly have been not merely an exaggerated -compliment to the lady’s beauty, but a recognition of high birth -calculated to conciliate the future mother-in-law. - -Nor is it men only whose susceptibilities are stirred by the beauty of -the Nereids; even animals may fall under their spell. A shepherd of -Scopelos told me that in the neighbouring island of Ioura, which he -frequented with his flocks for pasturage, he once tamed a wild goat, -which after a time began to behave very oddly. All night long it would -remain with the rest of his flock, but in the daytime it persistently -strayed away from the pasture to the neighbourhood of a Nereid-haunted -cave on the bare and rocky hillside, and from want of food became very -thin. The goat, he believed, was enamoured of a Nereid and pining away -from unrequited love. - -But it is from the old folk-stories rather than from the records of -contemporary or recent experience that the character of the Nereids -as lovers or wives is best learnt. And herein they are not models of -womanhood; passion indeed they feel and inspire; they suffer, they -even seek the caresses of the young and brave; but true wives they -will not long remain. Constancy and care are not for them; the longing -for freedom and the breezes of heaven, the memory of rapid tuneful -dance, are hot within them; they leave the men whose strength and -valour snared their hearts, they forsake their homes and children, -and on the wings of the wind are gone, seeking again their etherial -unwearied fellows. Yet they do not altogether forget their children; -for motherhood is presently more to them than mirth; ever and anon -they steal back to visit their homes and bless their children with the -gifts of beauty and wealth which their touch can bestow, and even stay -to mend their husbands’ clothes and clean the house, vanishing again -however before the man’s return. Only in one case have I heard of a -nymph’s continued intimacy with a man throughout his life, and that -strangely enough not in a folk-story but in recent experience. Their -relations, it must be acknowledged, were illicit, for he had a human -wife and family; but it was commonly reported that his rise from penury -to affluence and the mayoralty of his native village was the work of a -Nereid in a cave near by, who of her love for him enriched the produce -of his land and shielded his flocks from pestilence. - -In the popular stories which deal with the marriages of Nereids, the -bridal fashion of their dress, which has already been noticed, is often -an essential feature of the plot. In one tale it is said explicitly -that the supernatural quality of the Nereids lies not in their persons -but in their raiment[310]; and for this reason a prince, smitten with -love of the youngest of three sister Nereids but knowing not how to win -her, is counselled by a wise woman, to whom he confides his perplexity, -to lie in wait when they go to bathe in their accustomed pool and to -steal the clothes of his _inamorata_, who would then follow him to -recover her loss and so be in his power to take to wife. But there is -greater delicacy and, as we shall see, more certain antiquity also -in the commoner version of the episode, in which a kerchief alone is -possessed of the magic powers ascribed above to the whole dress. And in -this detail of costume the resemblance of bride and Nereid still holds -good; for no wedding-dress would be complete without a kerchief either -wrapped about the bride’s head or pinned upon her breast or carried in -her hand to form a link with her neighbour in the chain of dancers[311]. - -Of the stories which have for their _motif_ the theft of such a -kerchief from a Nereid[312] the following Messenian tale is a good -example. - -‘Once upon a time there was a young shepherd who played the pipes -so beautifully that the Nereids one night carried him off to the -threshing-floor where they danced and bade him play to them. At first -he was much afraid and thought that some evil would overtake him from -being in their company and speaking with them. But gradually, as he -grew accustomed to his strange surroundings and the Nereids showed -themselves kind to him and grateful for his piping, he took courage -again and night after night made his way to the spot which they haunted -and made music till cock-crow. - -Now it so happened that one of the Nereids was beautiful beyond the -rest, and the shepherd loved her and determined to make her his wife. -But inasmuch as the Nereids danced all night long without pause while -he piped, and at dawn vanished to be seen no more until the next -night’s dance began, he knew not what to do. - -So at last he went to an old woman and told her his trouble, and she -said to him, “Go again to-night and play till dawn is near; then before -the cock crows[313], make a dash and seize the kerchief in the Nereid’s -hand, and hold it fast. And though she change into terrible shapes, be -not afraid; only hold fast until she take again her proper form; then -must she do as thou wilt.” - -The young man therefore went again that night and played till close on -dawn. Then as the Nereid passed close beside him, leading the dance, -he sprang upon her and grasped the kerchief. And straightway the cock -crew, and the other Nereids fled; but she whose kerchief he had seized -could not go, but at once began to transform herself into horrible -shapes in hope to frighten the shepherd and make him loose his hold. -First she became a lion, but he remembered the witch’s warning and -held fast for all the lion’s roaring. And then the Nereid turned into -a snake, and then into fire[314], but he kept a stout heart and would -not let go the kerchief. Then at last she returned to her proper form -and went home with him and was his wife and bore him a son; but the -kerchief he kept hidden from her, lest she should become a Nereid -again.’ - -In this story there are two ancient traits especially noteworthy. The -power of transformation into horrible shapes is precisely the means of -defence which the Nereid Thetis once sought to employ against Peleus; -the forms of wild beast and of fire, which she assumed according to -ancient myth, are the same as Nereids now adopt; and the instructions -now given to hold fast until the Nereid resume her proper shape are -the same as Chiron, the wise Centaur, gave once to Peleus[315]. It is -true that in the ancient story it is the person of Thetis that Peleus -was bidden to grasp, while in the modern tale the shepherd’s immediate -object is to retain hold of the kerchief only. But this feature of -the story too is an interesting witness to antiquity, although in -Thetis’ history it does not appear. Ancient art has left to us several -representations[316] of nymphs with veil-like scarves worn on the -head or borne in the hand and floating down the breeze; and the magic -properties inherent in them are exemplified by Ino’s gift, or rather -loan, to Odysseus. The scarf imperishable (κρήδεμνον ἄμβροτον) which -she bade him gird about his breast and have no fear of any suffering -nor of death, was not his own to keep after he reached the mainland; -in accordance with her behest ‘he loosed then the goddess’ scarf from -about him, and let it fall into the river’s salt tide, and a great -wave bore it back down the stream, and readily did Ino catch it in her -hands’[317]. Here Ino’s anxiety and strait command as to the return of -her veil are most easily understood by the aid of the modern belief -which makes the possession of the scarf or kerchief the sole, or at -least the chief, means of godlike power. In Cythnos at the present day -it is the μπόλια, or scarf worn about the head, which alone is believed -to invest Nereids with their distinctive qualities[318]; and if the -modern scarf is a lineal descendant of the Homeric type such as Ino -wore--for even in feminine dress fashions are slow to change in the -Greek islands[319]--the epithet ‘imperishable’ may have unsuspected -force, as implying that the scarf confers a semblance of divinity on -its owner and not _vice versa_. - -In such of the stories of the above type as do not end with the -marriage of the Nereid[320] the sequel is not encouraging to -other adventurers. For though she be a good wife in commonplace -estimation--and the Greek view of matrimony is in general commonplace -to the verge of sordidness--though her skill in domestic duties be as -proverbial as her beauty, she either turns her charms and her cunning -to such account as to discover the hiding-place of her stolen kerchief, -or, failing this, so mopes and pines over her work that her husband -worn down by her sullenness and persistent silence decides to risk -all if he can but restore her lightheartedness. Then though he have -taken an oath of her that she will not avail herself of her recovered -freedom, but will abide with him as his wife, her promise is light as -the breeze that bears her away with fluttering kerchief, and he is -alone. - -But fickleness is not the worst of the Nereids’ qualities in their -dealings with men. In malice they are as wanton as in love. Woe -betide him who trespasses upon their midday carnival or crosses their -nightly path; dumbness, blindness, epilepsy, and horrors of mutilation -have been the penalties of such intrusion, though the man offend -unwittingly; for the Nereids are tiger-like in all, in stealth and -cruelty as in grace and beauty; and none who look upon their radiance -can guess the darkness of their hearts. Terrible was the experience of -a Melian peasant, who coming unawares upon the Nereids one night was -bidden by them to a cave hard by, where they feasted him and made merry -together and did not deny him their utmost favours; but when morning -broke, they sent him to his home shattered and impotent. - -If such be sometimes the results of their seeming goodwill and -proffered companionship, how much more fearful a thing must be their -enmity! Let a man but intrude upon their revels in some sequestered -glen, or sleep beneath the tree that shelters them, or play the pipe -beside the river where they bathe, and in such wrath they will gather -about him[321], that the eyes which have looked upon them see no more, -and the voice that cries out is thenceforth dumb, and madness springs -of their very presence. - -But if the Nereids are fickle and treacherous in their dealings with -men, towards women they are consistently malicious. Especially on two -occasions must every prudent peasant-woman be on her guard against -their envy--at marriage and in child-birth. For though the Nereids -themselves prove no true wives, so jealous are they of the joys of -wedlock, that if a bride be not well secured from their molestation, -they will mar the fruition of her love, or else, where they cannot -prevent, they will endeavour at the least to cut short the happiness -of motherhood, slaying with fever the woman whose bliss has stirred -their malevolence, yet sparing always the child and even blessing it -with beauty and wealth. - -The means by which women most commonly protect themselves on these -occasions are the wearing of amulets; the fastening of a bunch of -garlic over the house-door; the painting of a cross in black upon -the lintel (this custom may be a Christianised form of the ancient -practice, mentioned by Photius[322], of smearing houses with pitch -at the birth of children as a means of driving away powers of evil); -and, if any strange visitants are heard about the house at night, the -maintenance of strict silence. But steps are also sometimes taken to -appease the Nereids; offerings of food, in which honey is the essential -ingredient, are set out for them, and formerly in Athens[323] to this a -bride used to add two chemises out of her trousseau. - -Such precautions after a confinement are regularly continued for forty -days. It would appear that in ancient times this was the period during -which women were held to be specially exposed to the evil eye and all -other ghostly and sinister influences[324], including probably, as now, -the assaults of nymphs; and in modern usage the duration of the time -of peril is so well established that the word σαραντίζω, literally to -‘accomplish forty (σαράντα) days,’ is used technically of the churching -of women at the end of that period; while a more frankly pagan survival -is to be found in the fact that for forty days no right-minded mother -will cross the threshold of her own house to go out, nor enter a -neighbour’s house, without stepping on the door-key, that being the -most easily available piece of iron, a metal, which in the folk-lore of -ancient Greece[325], as in that of many other countries, was a charm -and safeguard against the supernatural. - -It is not however the mothers only, who need protection from the -Nereids, but the children also, and that too throughout their -childhood; yet not against the same perils; for the mother is liable -to malicious injuries; the child is safe indeed from wilful hurt, but -it may be stolen by Nereids. We have already seen how Nereids who -have wed with mortal men, though faithless to their husbands, are yet -drawn home now and again by love of their children. And such of them -too as have never yielded to human embrace are yet instinct with a -strange yearning to possess a mortal woman’s prettiest little ones; on -one child they exert a fascination which unhappily proves fatal to it; -another they seize with open violence; or again they set stealthily -in some cradle a babe of pure Nereid birth--a changeling that by some -weird fatality is weakly and doomed to die--and carry off to the woods -and hills the human infant, in whom they delight, to be their playmate -and their fosterling. In a history of the island of Pholegandros, the -writer, a native of the place, accounts for the multitude of small -chapels in the island on the ground of the peasants’ anxiety each to -have a saint close to his property to defend him from such raids by -Nereids and other kindred beings[326]. - -The wife of a priest at Chalandri in Attica related to Ross[327] a -story in point. ‘I had a daughter,’ she said, ‘a little girl between -twelve and thirteen years old, who showed a very strange disposition. -Though we all treated her kindly, her mood was always melancholy, -and whenever she got the chance she ran off from the village up the -wooded spurs of the mountain (Brilessos). There she would roam about -alone all day long, from early morning till late evening; often she -would take off some of her clothes and wear but one light garment, -so as to be less hindered in running and jumping. We dared not stop -her, for we saw quite well that the Nereids had allured her, but we -were much distressed. It was in vain that my husband took her time -after time to the church and read prayers over her. The Panagia (the -Virgin) was powerless to help. After the child had been thus afflicted -a considerable while, she fell into yet deeper despondency, and at last -died--a short time ago. When we buried her, the neighbours said, “Do -not wonder at her death; the Nereids wanted her; it is but two days -since we saw her dancing with them.”’ - -Such was the view taken by a Greek priest and his wife concerning the -cause of their daughter’s death about two generations ago; and at -the present day the traveller may hear of similar events in recent -experience. An important point to notice is that the child’s death -was thought to be due, not to any malevolence on the part of the -Nereids, but to their desire to have her for their own, a desire more -happily gratified in cases of which I have several times heard where -the child has not died but has simply disappeared. Thus in Arcadia I -was once assured that a small girl had been carried off by Nereids in -a whirlwind, and had been found again some weeks after on a lonely -mountain side some five or six hours distant from her home in a -condition which showed that she had been well fed and well cared for in -the interval. - -But certainly the snatching away of children by the Nereids, whether -this mean death or only disappearance, is still a well-accredited fact -in the minds of many of the common-folk. They still remain too simple -and too closely wedded to the beliefs of their forefathers to need the -old exhortation[328], - - ‘Trust ye the fables of yore: ’tis not Death, but the Nymphs of the river - Seeing your daughter so sweet stole her to be their delight.’ - -They believe still that the Nereids have befriended their children, -even while they weep for their own loss. - -Whatever mischief the Nereids work upon man, woman, or child, be it -death or loss of faculties or merely deportation from home to some -haunted spot, ‘seized’ (παρμένος or πιασμένος) is the word applied to -the victim. The compound ἀναρᾳδοπαρμένος[329], ‘Nereid-seized,’ also -occurs, exactly parallel in form as well as equivalent in meaning to -the ancient νυμφόληπτος as used by Plato. ‘Now listen to me,’ says -Socrates to Phaedrus[330], ‘in silence; for in very truth this seems to -be holy ground, so that if anon, in the course of what I say, I suffer -a “seizure” (νυμφόληπτος γένωμαι), you must not be surprised.’ Such -speech, save for its disregard of the acknowledged peril, might be held -in all seriousness by a peasant of to-day. In Socrates’ mouth it is -intended merely as a happy metaphor; but its point and appropriateness -are lost on those who do not both know the superstition to which he -alludes and at the same time recall the _mise-en-scène_[331] of the -dialogue. The two friends have crossed the Ilissus and are stretched -on a grassy slope in the shade of a lofty plane-tree, beneath which is -a spring of cool water pleasant to their feet as is the light breeze to -their faces in the heat of the summer noon. The spot must surely be a -favourite haunt of the rural gods, and indeed the statues close at hand -attest its dedication to Pan and to the Nymphs. In such a situation -there would be, according to modern notions, three distinct grounds -for apprehending a ‘seizure.’ The neighbourhood of water is throughout -Greece dreaded as the most dangerous haunt of Nereids[332], so that few -peasants will cross a stream or even a dry torrent-bed without making -the sign of the cross. Hardly less risky is it to rest in the shade of -any old or otherwise conspicuous tree. If in addition to this the time -of day be noon, it is not merely venturesome to trespass on such spots, -but inexcusably foolhardy; for the hour of midday slumber is fraught -with as many terrors as the night[333]. Any or all of these popular -beliefs may have been present to Plato’s mind as he wrote this passage; -for the ancients numbered among those Nymphs, by whom Socrates was -likely to be ‘seized,’ both Naiads and Dryads, who might be expected -to resent and to punish any intrusion upon their haunts in stream or -tree; while, as regards the hour of noon, the fear felt in old time -of arousing Pan[334] from his siesta may well have extended also to -Nymphs, who on this spot beside the Ilissus, as commonly elsewhere, -were named his comrades. - -The same kind of ‘seizure’ was denoted formerly by the phrase ἔχει -ἀπ’ ἔξω[335], ‘he has it (i.e. a stroke or seizure) from without,’ -and the modern compound ’ξωπαρμένος[336] bears obviously a kindred -meaning. The exact significance of ἔξω in this relation is difficult -to determine. Either it is only another example of the usage already -noted in discussing the term ἐξωτικά and implies the activity of one -of those supernatural beings who exist side by side with the powers -of Christianity and are by their very name proved to be pagan; or -else it indicates a difference in the mode of injury by two classes of -supernatural foes, the difference between ‘seizure’ and ‘possession.’ -Certainly no story is known to me of ‘possession’ by Nereids in the -same sense as by devils. The latter take up their abode within a man -and are subject to exorcism; the seizure by Nereids is conceived rather -as an external act of violence. This is made clear by several terms -locally used of seizure. ‘He has been struck’ (βαρέθηκε or χτυπήθηκε), -‘he has been wounded’ (λαβώθηκε), ‘he has had hands laid upon him’ -(ἐγγίχτηκε) are typical expressions, to which is sometimes added ‘by -Nereids’ or ‘by evil women[337].’ Such phrases clearly convict the -Nereids of assault and battery rather than of undue mental influence -upon their victims. - -Moreover the Nereids, and with them all the surviving pagan deities, -are pictured by the peasant in corporeal form, whereas the angels--and -there are bad angels, who ‘possess’ men, as well as good--are in common -speech as well as in the formal dedications of churches known as οἱ -ἀσώματοι, ‘the Bodiless ones.’ There is then an essential difference -in the nature of these two classes of beings, which justifies the -supposed distinction in their methods of working. For ‘possession’ -proper is the injury inflicted, or rather infused, by spirits pure and -simple; external ‘seizure’ is the work of corporeal beings. And this -distinction was recognised in comparatively early times; for John of -Damascus[338] in speaking of στρίγγαι, a peculiarly maleficent kind of -witch (of whom more anon), notes as singular the fact that sometimes -they appear clothed in bodily form and sometimes as mere spirits (μετὰ -σώματος ἢ γυμνῇ τῇ ψυχῇ). It is then to the second interpretation of -the phrase ἔχει ἀπ’ ἔξω, as implying external and bodily violence, that -the balance of argument, I think, inclines. - -The precautions which may be taken against injury by Nereids have -already been briefly noticed. Amulets, garlic, the sign of the -cross, the invocation of saints--all these are common and suitable -prophylactics. But above all, in the actual moment when imminent danger -is suspected, the lips, as Phaedrus was reminded by Socrates, and also -the eyes should be close shut; for in general the principle obtains -that the particular organ by which there is converse or contact with -the Nereids is most likely to be impaired or destroyed. Apart from -this, there is no precaution more specially adapted for self-defence -against the Nereids than against the evil eye or any other baneful -influence; and with these I have already dealt[339]. - -But when these precautions are neglected or fail, the mischief wrought -by the Nereids is not necessarily permanent; there are several cures -which may be tried. Sometimes prayers (but not, so far as I know, -a formal exorcism such as the Greek Church provides for diabolic -possession) are recited by a priest over the sufferer in the church of -some suitable saint; or a trial may be made of sleeping in a church -which possesses a wonder-working _icon_. Sometimes an offering of -honey-cakes sent or carried to the spot where the misfortune occurred -suffices to turn the Nereids from their wrath and wins them to undo the -hurt that they have done; on such an errand however the bearer of the -offering must beware of looking back to the place where he has once -deposited it, lest a worse fate overtake him than that which he is -trying to dispel[340]. Theodore Bent[341] gives full details of such -an offering made in the island of Ceos. ‘For those,’ he writes, ‘who -are supposed to have been struck by the Nereids when sleeping under a -tree, the following cure is much in vogue. A white cloth is spread on -the spot, and on it is put a plate with bread, honey, and other sweets, -a bottle of good wine, a knife, a fork, an empty glass, an unburnt -candle, and a censer. These things must be brought by an old woman -who utters mystic words and then goes away, that the Nereids may eat -undisturbed, and that in their good humour they may allow the sufferer -to regain his health.’ How mystic may be the words of a Cean witch, I -cannot say; but the formula to be used by mothers in Chios in the event -of a similar misfortune to a child is extremely simple: ‘Good day to -you, good queens, eat ye the little cakes and heal my child’--καλημέρα -σας, καλαὶς ἀρχόντισσαις, φᾶτε σεῖς τὰ κουλουράκια καὶ ’γιάνετε τὸ -παιδί μου[342]. But the most frequent and most efficacious method of -cure (with which the offering of honeycakes may be combined) is for -the sufferer to revisit the scene of his calamity at the same hour of -the same day in week, month, or year, when by some capricious reversal -of fate the presence of the Nereids is apt to remove the hurt which it -formerly inflicted. - - * * * * * - -Thus far I have dealt with the main characteristics of nymphs in -general: it remains to consider the several classes into which -they were anciently divided; and though for the most part the old -appellations, Nereids, Naiads, Oreads, and Dryads, have either -disappeared or else changed their form or meaning, we shall find that -the old division of them into these four main classes according to -their habitation still to some extent survives. - -The Nereids, whose name is now extended to comprise all kinds of -nymphs, are in the ancient and proper sense of the term among the -rarest of whom the peasant speaks. But here and there mention is made -of genuine sea-nymphs, and also of their queen, the Lamia of the -Sea[343], who has superseded Amphitrite. In 1826 a villager of Argolis -described to Soutzos, the historian of the Greek revolution[344], a -true Nereid. Her hair was green and adorned with pearls and corals; -often by moonlight she might be seen dancing merrily on the surface of -the sea, and in the daytime she would come to dry her clothes upon the -rocks near the mills of Lerna. These, I may add from my own knowledge, -are reputed to be haunted by Nereids down to this day. Happily a -peasant of that period cannot be suspected of any education; he was not -recalling a piece of repetition mastered at school when he spoke of - - viridis Nereidum comas[345], - -but knew by tradition from his ancestors what Horace learnt of them by -study. - -In the Greek town of Sinasos also, in Cappadocia, a class of sea-nymphs -is popularly recognised and distinguished under the name Ζαβέται, a -word said by the recorder of it to be derived from a Cappadocian word -_zab_ meaning the ‘sea[346].’ But of the districts known to me the -most fertile in stories of sea-nymphs is the province of Maina, the -middle of the three peninsulas south of the Peloponnese. One such story -attaches to a fine palm-tree growing on the beach at Liméni, a small -port on the west coast of the peninsula. A full version of it has been -published[347], but as it is long and not peculiarly instructive, I -content myself with an abridgement of it. - -A fisherman of Liméni was sleeping one summer night in his boat; at -midnight he suddenly awoke to find Nereids rowing him out to sea, but -happily, remembering at once that Nereids drown any one whom they catch -looking at them, he lay quiet as if asleep. The boat travelled like -lightning, and soon they reached Arabia; and having shipped a cargo -of dates, the Nereids started home again. As they were returning, one -Nereid proposed to drown the man; but the others replied that he had -not opened his eyes to see them, and that they owed him a debt besides -for the use of his boat. Finally they arrived at some unknown place and -unloaded the dates; and then in a flash the fisherman found himself -back at the shore by the monastery of Liméni, and ‘the she-devils, -the Nereids,’ gone. As he baled out his boat, he found one date; but -suspecting that it had been left intentionally by the Nereids to cause -him trouble, he threw it, not into the sea, for fear his fishing should -suffer, but ashore. And since the date had been handled by supernatural -beings (’ξωτικά), it could not perish, but took root where it fell; and -hence the palm-tree on the shore to this day. - -These same sea-nymphs--θαλασσιναὶς νεράϊδες--play also a part in the -daily life of the people of this district[348]. It is said that every -Saturday night these Nereids join battle with the Nereids of the -mountains, and according as these or those win, their _protégés_, -the upland or the maritime population, are found on Sunday morning -in higher or lower spirits, booty-laden or despoiled. It is indeed -an imaginative folk which can thus make its deities responsible for -drunken brawls and sober thefts; but some of them have humour enough to -smile at their own imaginings. - -A class of maleficent beings known to the inhabitants of Tenos, -Myconos, Amorgos, and other islands of the same group under the name -of ἀγιελοῦδες or γιαλοῦδες[349], have been reckoned as sea-nymphs -by several writers, who would derive the name from ’γιαλός (i.e. -αἰγιαλός), the ‘sea-shore[350].’ But there is no evidence advanced to -show that the common-folk regard them as a species of Nereid; and there -is, on the contrary, evidence of their identity with certain female -demons whose name more commonly appears in the form γελλοῦδες[351], and -with whom I shall deal later. - - * * * * * - -The Oreads are no longer known under their old name, but their -existence is still recognised throughout the mainland of Greece. Their -change of name is the result merely of a change in the ordinary word -for ‘mountain.’ Anciently ὄρος was usual, βουνός rare; now the peasant -uses commonly βουνό, and ὄρος although understood everywhere and -occurring in popular poetry comes less readily to his lips. Hence the -Oreads are now called ᾑ Βουνήσι̯αις[352] (sc. νεράϊδες) or τὰ κουρίτσια -τοῦ βουνοῦ[353] (‘the mountain-nymphs’ or ‘the maidens of the mount’). -These mountain-nymphs delight in dance and merriment even more than -their kin of the rivers and of the sea. In Maina indeed they seem to -have become infected with the pugnacious character of the people, for -as we have seen they there do battle with the sea-nymphs each Saturday -night. But in general frolic is more to their taste than fighting. On -the heights of Taÿgetus are three Oreads, well known to the dwellers -in the plain of Sparta, who dance together without pause. On the -summit of Hymettus too there is a flat space, called in the modern -Attic dialect a πλάτωμα and in shape ‘round like a threshing-floor,’ -where Nereids of the mountain dance at midday[354]. Above all in the -uplands of Acarnania and Aetolia many are the hollows or tree-encircled -level spaces which the shepherds will point out as νεραϊδάλωνα, -‘threshing-floors’ where the nymphs make merry; for a threshing-floor, -it must be remembered, is the usual resort for dancing, wrestling, and -all those amusements for which a level space is required. - -Nymphs of the same kind are known also in Crete. A curious story of -a wedding procession in which they took part was there narrated -to Pashley[355], and his informant’s words are recorded by him in -the original dialect. ‘Once upon a time a man told me that two men -had once gone up to the highest mountain-ridges, where wild goats -live, and sat by moonlight in a grassy hollow[356] (διασέλι), in the -hopes of shooting the goats. And there they heard a great noise, and -supposed that there were men come to get loads of snow to carry to -Canea. But when they drew nearer, they heard violins and cithers and -all kinds of music, and such music they had never heard. So they knew -at once that these were no men but an assemblage of divine beings -(δαιμονικὸ συνέδριον). And they watched them and saw them pass at a -short distance from where they were sitting, clothed in all manner of -raiment, and mounted some on grey horses and some on horses of other -colours, and they could make out that there were men and women, afoot -or riding, a very host. And the men were white as doves, and the -women very beautiful like the rays of the sun. They saw too that they -were carrying something in the way that a dead body is carried out. -Forthwith the mountaineers determined to have a shot at them as they -passed before them. They had heard also a song of which the words were - - “Go we to fetch a bride, a lady bride, - From the steep rock, a bride that is alone.” - -And they made up their minds and fired a shot at them. Thereupon those -that were in front cried out with one voice, “What is it?” and those -behind answered, “Our bridegroom is slain, our bridegroom is slain.” -And they wept and cried aloud and fled.’ - -In regard to this story it may be noted that a male form of Nereid -(Νεραΐδης) is sometimes mentioned, and here such are undoubtedly -implied. The necessity of finding husbands for the Nereids naturally -presents itself to the minds of the old women who are the chief -story-tellers, and the demand is met by an assorted supply of young -men, male Nereids, and devils. As consorts of the last-mentioned, the -Nereids enjoy in many places the title of διαβόλισσαις, ‘she-devils’; -and it was on the ground of such unions that a peasant-woman of -Acarnania once explained to me the belief, held in her own village, -that Nereids were seen only at midday. How should the devils their -husbands let such beautiful women be abroad at night? - -It is on the mountain-nymphs also that the peasants most frequently -lay the responsibility for whirlwinds[357], by which children or -even adults are said to be caught up and carried from one place to -another[358], or to their death. Some such fate, we must suppose, in -ancient times also was held to have befallen a seven-year-old boy on -whose tomb was written, ‘Tearful Hades with the help of Oreads made -away with me, and this mournful tomb that has been builded nigh unto -the Nymphs contains me[359].’ The habit of travelling on a whirlwind, -or more correctly perhaps of stirring up a whirlwind by rapid passage, -has gained for the nymphs in some districts secondary names--in -Macedonia ἀνεμικαίς, in Gortynia ἀνεμογαζοῦδες[360]--which might almost -seem to constitute a new class of wind-nymphs. But so far as I know -the faculty of raising whirlwinds, though most frequently exercised by -Oreads, is common to all nymphs. - -In Athens whirlwinds are said to occur most frequently near the old -Hill of the Nymphs[361]: and women of the lower classes, as they see -the spinning spiral of dust approach, fall to crossing themselves -busily and to repeating μέλι καὶ γάλα ’στὴ στράτα σας[362] (or ’στο -δρόμο σας), ‘Honey and milk in your path!’ This incantation is widely -known as an effective safeguard against the Nereids in their rapid -flight, and must in origin, it would seem, have been a vow. This -supposition is confirmed by the fact that in Corfu[363] a few decades -ago the peasantry used to make actual offerings of both milk and honey -to the Nereids, and that Theocritus also associates these two gifts in -vows made to the nymphs and to Pan. ‘I will set,’ sings Lacon, ‘a great -bowl of white milk for the nymphs, and another will I set full of sweet -oil’; to which Comatas in rivalry rejoins, ‘Eight pails of milk will -I set for Pan, and eight dishes of honey in the honeycomb[364].’ The -gift of honey is of special significance. In every recorded case which -I know of offerings to Nereids in modern Greece honey is expressly -mentioned, and seems indeed to be essential; and it is probably from -their known preference for this food that at Kastoria in Macedonia -they have even received the by-name, ᾑ μελιτένιαις, ‘the honeyed -ones[365].’ And if we look back over many centuries we may find a hint -of the same belief in Homer’s description of the cave of the Naiads -in Ithaca, wherein ‘are bowls for mixing and pitchers of stone, and -there besides do bees make store[366].’ For it is well established -that honey was the special offering made to the indigenous deities of -Greece before the making of wine such as Homer’s heroes quaff had yet -been discovered[367]. Perchance then even in distant pre-Homeric days -men vowed, as now they vow, honey and milk to the nymphs whose swift -passing was the whirlwind, and felt secure. - - * * * * * - -The memory of the tree-nymphs is still green throughout Greece. From -Aegina their ancient name δρυάδες is recorded as still in use[368]; -and in parts of Epirus, Thessaly, Macedonia, and Thrace, as well as in -several islands of the Aegean Sea, Chios, Cimolos, Cythnos, and others, -there is a word employed which is, I believe, formed from the same root -and once denoted the same class of beings. This word is found in the -forms δρύμαις[369], δρύμιαις[370], δρύμναις[371], δρύμνιαις[372] and, -in Chios, in a neuter form δρύματα[373]. - -It has been suggested indeed by one writer[374] that this word has -nothing to do with Dryads, but that its root is δρυμ- (better perhaps -written δριμ- as in the ancient δριμύς, since, so far as the sound of -the vowel in modern Greek is concerned, the philologist may write η, -ι, υ, ει, οι, or υι, as seemeth him best), in the sense of ‘fierce,’ -‘bitter’; and support for this derivation is sought in a somewhat vague -statement of Hesychius who explains the word δρυμίους by the phrase -τοὺς κατὰ τὴν χώραν κακοποιούς, ‘the evil-doers in the country’: but -whether he took δρυμίους to be the proper name of some class of demons, -or an adjective synonymous with κακοποιός, does not appear. - -But even on the grounds of form alone (which grounds will be -considerably strengthened when we come to consider signification), -it appears better to derive this group of words from δρῦς or more -immediately from δρυμός, ‘a coppice’; for in ancient literature mention -is made of ‘Artemis of the coppice’ and ‘nymphs of the coppice’ -(Ἄρτεμις δρυμονία[375] and δρυμίδες νύμφαι)[376], of a particular nymph -named Drymo[377], of a Ζεὺς δρύμνιος[378] worshipped in Pamphylia, and -of Apollo invoked at Miletus under the title δρύμας[379]. In the last -two instances the title may be supposed to have had reference merely to -the surroundings of a particular sanctuary; but in relation to Artemis -and the nymphs the epithet clearly suggests their woodland haunts. - -In present-day usage the words which we are considering almost -universally denote, not nymphs or any other supernatural beings, -but the first few days of August, which are observed in a special -way. The number of these days varies from three in Sinasos[380], in -Carpathos[381], and in Syme (an island north of Rhodes), to five in -Cythnos[382] and Cyprus[383], and six in most other places where -they are specially observed. There are two rules laid down for this -observance, though in some places only one of the two is in force: no -tree may be peeled or cut (this is the usual practice for obtaining -mastic and resin); and the use of water for washing either the person -or clothes is prohibited; neither is it permitted to travel by water -during this period. In the interests of personal cleanliness it is -unfortunate that the month of August should have been selected for this -abstention; by that time even the Greeks find the sea tepid enough -to admit of bathing without serious risk of chill, and it is a pity -therefore that a penalty should be inflicted upon bathers during the -first week of the only month in which ablutions extend beyond the -pouring of a small jug of water over the fingers. Howbeit the decrees -stand, and as surely as there is transgression thereof, skin will -blister and peel off, clothes will rot[384], and trees will wither. The -severity of these pains has in Cyprus changed the name of these days -from δρύμαις into κακαουσκιαίς, ‘the evil days of August[385].’ - -Now among a people so superstitious as the Greeks it is reasonable to -suppose that days thus marked by special abstinences were originally -sacred to some deities. Washing and tree-cutting at this season must, -we may assume, have been offences against some supernatural persons -whose festival was then observed and who avenged its profanation; and -the supernatural persons most nearly concerned would naturally be the -tree-nymphs and the water-nymphs. - -The association or even confusion of these two classes of nymphs is -very common both in ancient literature and in modern belief, and is -indeed a natural consequence of the fact that the finest trees, such -as that plane under which sat Socrates and Phaedrus, grow only in the -close vicinity of water. It would have puzzled even Socrates to say -whether the Nymphs by whom he might be seized would be more probably -Dryads or Naiads. Homer himself, to go yet further back, suggests the -same association, for he tells of ‘a spreading olive-tree and nigh -thereto’ the cave of the Naiads in Ithaca. Again in later times we -find a dedication by one Cleonymus to ‘Hamadryads, daughters of the -river’[386]; and though an ingenious critic would replace Ἁμαδρυάδες -by Ἀνιγριάδες (nymphs of the Arcadian river Anigrus), I believe the -fault to lie with Cleonymus and not with the manuscript; for the place -where he makes his dedication is beneath pine-trees (ὑπαὶ πιτύων). At -the present day the same tendency towards confusion of the two classes -is common. This was well illustrated to me by some peasants of Tenos. -Ten minutes’ walk from the town there is a good spring from which a -remarkable subterranean passage cut through the solid rock carries the -water to supply the town. The spring is within a cave, artificially -enlarged at the entrance, over which stands a fine fig-tree. Standing -outside while a companion entered first, I noticed that our guides -(for several persons had escorted us out of curiosity or hospitality) -were distinctly perturbed, and I heard one say to another, ‘See, he -is going in, he is not afraid.’ Inferring thence that the place was -haunted, and remembering that mid-day, the hour at which we happened -to be there, was fraught with special peril, I determined to test my -guides, and so sat down under the fig-tree. Then remarking that the -sun was hot at noon, I invited them to come and sit in the shade and -smoke a cigarette. But the bait was insufficient; they would stand in -the sun rather than approach either the spring or the tree, though -they were ready enough to accept cigarettes when I moved out of the -zone of danger. Afterwards by enquiries made elsewhere I learnt that -the spot was the reputed home of Nereids--but whether their abode was -tree or water, who should say? Close neighbours in their habitations, -indistinguishable in their appearance and attributes, it is pardonable -to confuse those sister nymphs, - - ‘Centum quae siluas, centum quae flumina seruant[387].’ - -It is exactly this kind of confusion of the two classes of nymphs -which has produced the twofold injunctions for the observance of the -days known as δρύμαις: for evidence is forthcoming that this word -originally denoted a class of nymphs and not, as generally now, their -August festival. From Stenimachos in Thrace comes the statement that -by δρύμιαις the people there understand female deities who live in -water and are always hostile to man, but specially dangerous only -during the first six days of August[388]. Here the name δρύμιαις, if -the derivation which I prefer is right, points to the identification of -these beings with the ancient Dryads; while their watery habitations -proclaim them rather Naiads. Reversely again in Syme, where the word -δρύμαις is not in use, there are certain nymphs known as Ἀλουστίναι -who live in mountain-torrents, in trees, and elsewhere, and who are -seen only at mid-day and at midnight during the first three days of -August; but, far from being hurtful to men, they may even themselves -be captured by certain magical ceremonies and employed as servants -in the house for a period, after which the spell is broken and they -return again to their homes. Their name Ἀλουστίναι[389], said to be -formed from Ἀλούστος[389], the local name for the month of August, -clearly means ‘anti-washing,’ and at once identifies them with those -Naiads whose festival, as I believe, has rendered the waters sacred -and therefore harmful if disturbed during these days; but on the other -hand their dwelling-places include trees. These two pieces of evidence -from places so wide apart as Stenimachos and Syme are reinforced by a -popular expression formerly, and perhaps still, in use, τὸν ἔπι̯ασαν ᾑ -δρύμαις[390], ‘the “drymes” have seized him’; where the word denoting -‘seizure’ is one of those already noted as proper to ‘seizure’ by -nymphs. - -From the usage of the word therefore as well as from its formation we -may conclude that the word δρύμαις is the modern equivalent of the -ancient δρυάδες: and the widely-spread custom of abstaining both from -tree-cutting and from the use of water during the early days of August -is a survival of an old joint festival of wood-nymphs and water-nymphs. - -But it is not in the relics of ancient worship only that traces of -the Dryads are now to be found. The traveller in Greece will commonly -hear that such and such a tree is haunted by a Nereid. Particularly -famous in North Arcadia is a magnificent pine-tree on the path from -the monastery of Megaspélaeon to the village of Solos. My muleteer -enthusiastically compared it to the gigantic tree which is believed -to uphold the world; and piously crossed himself, as we passed it, -for fear of the nymph who made it her home. In general the trees thus -reputed are the fruit-bearing trees which were comprehensively denoted -by the term δρῦς, from which the Dryads took their name--the fig-tree, -the olive, the holly-oak[391], and the plane. Such trees, especially -when conspicuous for age or for luxuriance, are readily suspected to -be the abode of Nereids. One Nereid only, it would seem, is assigned -to each tree (though, if her retreat be violated, she may swiftly call -others of her kind to aid her in taking vengeance), and with the life -of the tree her own life is bound up. - -For a nymph is not immortal. Her span of life far exceeds that of -man, but none the less it is measured. ‘A crow lives twice as long -as a man, a tortoise twice as long as a crow, and a Nereid twice as -long as a tortoise.’ Such is a popular saying which I heard from an -unlettered peasant of Arcadia, to whom evidently had been transmitted -orally through many centuries a version of Hesiod’s lines, ‘Verily -nine times the age of men in their prime doth the croaking raven live; -and a stag doth equal four ravens; and ’tis three lives of a stag ere -the crow grows old; but the phoenix hath the life of nine crows; and -ye, fair-tressed Nymphs, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus, do live ten -times the phoenix’ age[392].’ Commenting on this passage, Plutarch -takes the word γενεά in the phrase ἐννέα γενεὰς ἀνδρῶν ἡβώντων, which -I have rendered as ‘nine times the age of men in their prime,’ to -be used as the equivalent of ἐνιαυτός, a year; and, making a sober -computation on this basis, discovers that the limit of life for nymphs -and _daemones_ in general is 9720 years. But he then admits that the -mass of men do not allow so long a duration, and quotes by way of -illustration a phrase from Pindar, νύμφας ... ἰσοδένδρου τέκμωρ αἰῶνος -λαχούσας, according to which the nymphs are allotted a term of life -commensurate with that of a tree; hence, it is added, the compound name -Ἁμαδρυάδες, Dryads whose lives are severally bound up with those of -the trees which they inhabit[393]. Other ancient authorities concur. -Sophocles markedly calls the nymphs of Mt Cithaeron ‘long-lived’ -(μακραιῶνες), not ‘immortal’[394]: Pliny certifies the finding of -dead Nereids on the coasts of Gaul during the reign of Augustus[395]: -Tzetzes cites from the works of Charon of Lampsacus the story of an -Hamadryad who was in danger of being swept away and drowned by a -swollen mountain-torrent[396]: and, to revert to yet earlier authority, -in one of the Homeric Hymns Aphrodite rehearses to Anchises the whole -matter[397]. Speaking of the son whom she will bear to him, she says: -‘So soon as he shall see the light of the sun, he shall be tended -by deep-bosomed nymphs of the mountains, even those that dwell upon -this high and holy mount. These verily are neither of mortal men nor -of immortal gods. Long indeed they live and feed on food divine, and -they have strength too for fair dance amid immortals; yea, and with -them have the watchful Slayer of Argus and such as Silenus been joined -in love within the depths of pleasant grots. But at the moment of -their birth, there spring up upon the nurturing earth pines, may be, -or oaks rearing high their heads, good trees and luxuriant, upon the -mountain-heights. Far aloft they tower; sanctuaries of immortals they -are called, and men hew them not with axe[398]. But so soon as the doom -of death stands beside them, first the good trees are dried up at the -root and then their bark withers about them and their branches fall -away, and therewith the soul of the nymphs too leaves the light of the -sun.’ - -So my Arcadian friend was true to ancient tradition both in his -estimate of the life of Nereids and in his belief, thereby implied, -that they are mortal. Nor is other modern testimony wanting. There are -popular stories still current concerning Nereids’ deaths. One has been -recorded in which a Nereid is struck by God with lightning and slain as -a punishment for stealing a boy from his father, and her sister nymphs -in terror restore the child[399]. A pertinent confession of faith has -also been heard from the lips of a Cretan peasant. In explanation of -the name Νεραϊδόσπηλος, ‘Nereid-grot,’ attached to a cave near his -village, he had related a story of a Nereid who was carried off from -that spot and taken to wife by a young man, to whom she bore a son; but -as she would never open her lips in his presence, he went in despair to -an old woman who advised him to heat an oven hot and then taking the -child in his arms to say to the Nereid, ‘Speak to me; or I will burn -your child,’ and so saying to make show of throwing the child into -the oven. He did as the old woman advised; but the Nereid saying only, -‘You hound, leave my child alone,’ seized it from him and disappeared. -And since the other Nereids would not admit her again to their company -in the cave, as being now a mother, she took up her abode in a spring -close by; and there she is seen two or three times a year holding the -child in her arms. ‘After hearing this tale,’ says the recorder of -it, ‘I asked the old peasant who told it me, how long ago this had -happened.’ He replied that he had heard it from his grandfather, and -guessed it to be about a hundred and sixty years. ‘My good man,’ said -the other, ‘would not the child have grown up in all that time?’ ‘What -do you suppose, sir?’ he answered; ‘are those to grow up so easily who -live from a thousand to fifteen hundred years?[400]’ - -How this period was computed by the Cretan peasant, or whether it -was computed at all on any system known to him, is not related; but -very probably the longevity of trees was the original basis of the -calculation; for the peasants will often point out some old contorted -olive-trunk as a thousand or more years old; I was once even taken to -see a tree reputed to have been planted by Alexander the Great. But -at any rate it is clear that both in ancient and in modern times the -nymphs have always been believed to be subject to ultimate death, and -however the tenure of life may be determined in the case of the others, -the Dryads have without doubt been generally reckoned coeval with the -trees that are their homes. - -An exception to this rule must however be made in the case of -Nereid-haunted trees which do not die a natural death, but are felled -untimely. A Nymph’s life is not to be cut short by a humanly-wielded -axe. In the Homeric Hymn indeed, which I have quoted, we learn that men -hew not such trees with steel; and the same might, I think, be said -at the present day with certainty of those trees which are known to -be haunted. But the unknown is ever full of risk; and the woodcutter -of the North Arcadian forests, mindful of the sacrilege which he may -commit and fearful of the vengeance wherewith it may be visited, -takes such precautions as piety suggests. With muttered appeals to -the Panagia or his own patron-saint and with much crossing of himself -he fills up the moments between each bout of hewing at any suspected -tree (unfortunately the finest timber on which he plies his axe is -also the most likely to harbour a Nereid) and finally as the upper -branches sway and the tree trembles to its fall, he runs back and -throws himself down with his face to the ground, in silence which not -even a prayer must break, lest a Nereid, passing out from her violated -abode, hear and espy and punish. For, as has been said before, nothing -is more sure than that he who speaks in the hearing of a Nereid loses -from thenceforth the power of speech; while the practice of hiding -the face in the ground is not a foolish imitation of the ostrich, but -is prompted by the belief that a Nereid is most prone to injure those -who by look, word, or touch have of their own act, though not always -of their own will, placed themselves in communication or contact with -her[401]. - -These precautions appertaining to the lore of modern Greek forestry -indicate a belief that, when a tree is hewn down, its death does not -involve the death of the Nereid within it, but that she escapes alive -and vengeful. And herein once more there is agreement between the -beliefs of modern and of ancient Greece. Apollonius Rhodius tells -the story of the want and penury which befell Paraebius for all his -labours. ‘Verily he was paying a cruel requital for the sin of his -father; who once when he was felling trees, alone upon the mountains, -made light of the prayers of an Hamadryad. For she with tears and -passionate speech strove to soften his heart, that he should not hew -the trunk of her coeval oak, wherein she lived continuously her whole -long life; but he right foolishly did fell the tree, in pride of his -young strength. Wherefore the Nymph set a doom of fruitless toil -thereafter on him and on his children[402].’ - - * * * * * - -The Naiads, of whose ancient name, so far as I know, no trace remains -in the dialects of to-day, are not less numerous than other nymphs -and as much to be feared. The peasants speak of them usually as -‘Nereids of the river’ or ‘of the spring’ (νεράϊδες τοῦ ποταμίου or -τῆς βρύσης); and only in one place, Kephalóvryso (‘Fountain-head’) -in Aetolia, did I find a distinctive by-name for them. This was the -word ξεραμμέναις[403], which I take to be a half-humorous euphemism -meaning ‘the Parched Ones’; but, so far as sound is concerned, it -would be equally permissible to write ’ξεραμέναις (past participle of -’ξερνῶ = Latin _respuo_) and to interpret therefore in the sense of -‘the Abominable Ones.’ The latter appellation however seems to me too -outspoken in view of the awe in which the Naiads are everywhere held. - -Wherever fresh water is, whether in mountain-torrent or reservoir, in -river or village-well, there is peril to be feared; no careful mother -will send her children at noontide to fetch water from the spring, -or, if they are sent, they must at least spit thrice into it before -they dip their pitchers, nor will she suffer them to loiter beside a -stream when dusk has fallen; no cautious man will ford a river without -crossing himself first on the brink. - -The actual dwelling-place of these nymphs may be either the depths -of the water itself or some cave beside the stream. Homer gave to -the Naiads of Ithaca for their habitation a grotto, wherein were -everflowing waters[404]; and though in some cases the nymphs who haunt -the mountain caves may as well be Oreads as Naiads, I have preferred -to deal with them in this place; for usually it is river-gods who -have hollowed out these rocky homes for their daughters, and in many -such caves may be seen the everflowing waters that attest the Naiads’ -birthright. - -Some such places, whether springs or caves, have, as might be expected, -attained greater fame or notoriety than others; some special incident -starts a story about them which from generation to generation rolls on -gathering it may be fresh volume. - -A typical story--typical save only for the absence of tragedy, since -the Naiads are wont to drown by mistake those whom they carry off--was -heard by Leo Allatius[405] from what he considered a trustworthy -source. ‘Some well-to-do people of Chios were taking a summer holiday -in the country _en famille_, when a pretty little girl of the party got -separated from the rest and ran off to a well at a little distance. -Amusing herself, as children will, she leant forward over the well, -and as she was looking at the water in it, was, without perceiving -it, insensibly lifted by some force and pushed into the well. Her -relations saw her carried off, and running up, perceived the girl -amusing herself on the top of the water as if she were seated on a bed. -Thereupon her father, emboldened by the sight, tried to climb down into -the well, but was pulled in by some force and set beside his child. -In the meantime some of the others had brought a ladder, which they -lowered into the well and bade the man ascend. Catching up his daughter -in his arms, he mounted the ladder safe and sound, and to the amazement -of all, though father and daughter had been all that time in the water, -they came out with clothes perfectly dry, without so much as a trace -of dampness. The seizure of the girl and her father they attributed -to Nereids, who were said to haunt that well. The girl too herself -asserted that while she was hanging over the well, she had seen women -sporting on the surface of the water with the utmost animation, and at -their invitation had voluntarily thrown herself in.’ - -This story, though it ends happily, bears a marked resemblance to that -of Hylas. It is specially noted that the child had a pretty face, and -this without doubt is conceived as impelling the Nereids to seize -her. It is of little consequence that their home is, in this case, -a mere well instead of ‘a spring,’ as Theocritus[406] pictures it, -‘in a hollow of the land, whereabout grew rushes thickly and purple -cuckoo-flower[407] and pale maidenhair and bright green parsley and -clover spreading wide’; for the ancients also attributed nymphs to -their wells[408]. - -Such stories are sometimes causes, sometimes effects, of the -not uncommon place-names νεραϊδόβρυσι, νεραϊδόσπηλῃ͜ο[409], -‘Nereid-spring,’ ‘Nereid-cave.’ - -Two such caves, to which the additional interest attaches of having -been in classical times also regarded as holy ground, are found on -Parnassus and on Olympus. The former is the famous Corycian cave -sacred in antiquity to Pan and the Nymphs[410] and still dreaded -by the inhabitants of the district as an abode of Nereids[411]. The -latter is thought to be the ancient sanctuary of the Pierian Muses, -and the peasants of the last generation held the place in such awe -that they refused to conduct anyone thither for fear of being seized -with madness[412]. It is right to add that the tenants of this cavern -were called by the vague name ἐξωτικαίς, which would comprise not -only Nereids, but presumably the Muses also, if any remembrance of -them survives in the district; but the fear of being seized with -madness suggests the ordinary conception of nymphs. In neither of -these instances of course can it be claimed that Naiads rather than -Oreads are the possessors of the cave; but as I have said the peasants -generally employ the wide appellation ‘Nereids’ or some yet vaguer -name, and do not discriminate between the looks and the qualities -of the several orders of nymphs. It is only by observing local and -occasional distinctions that I have been able to trace some survivals -of the four main ancient classes. In general the ‘Nereid’ of to-day is -simply the ‘Nymph’ of antiquity. - - -§ 10. THE QUEENS OF THE NYMPHS. - -Travelling once in a small sailing-boat from the island of Scyros to -Scopelos I overheard an instructive conversation between one of my two -boatmen and a shepherd whom we had taken off from the small island -of Skánzoura. The occasion of our touching there, namely pursuit by -pirates (from whom the North Aegean is not yet wholly free, though -their piracies are seldom of a worse nature than cattle-lifting from -the coasts and islands), had certainly had an exciting effect upon my -boatman’s nerves, and, as darkness fell, the shepherd responded to his -companion’s mood, and their talk ranged over many strange experiences. -Very soon they were exchanging confidences about the supernatural -beings with whom they had come into contact; and among these figured -two who are the queens respectively of the nymphs of land and of sea. -Of these deities one only was known to each of the speakers, but on -comparing notes they agreed that the two personalities were distinct. - -The landsman told of one whom he named ‘the queen of the mountains’ (ἡ -βασίλισσα τῶν βουνῶν) who with a retinue of Nereids was ever roaming -over the hills or dancing in some wooded dell. In form she was as a -Nereid, but taller and more glistening-white than they; and as she -surpassed her comrades in beauty, so did she also excel in cruelty -towards those who heedlessly crossed her path. The sailor on the other -hand had both seen and heard one whom he called ‘the queen of the -shore’ (ἡ βασίλισσα τοῦ γιαλοῦ). Most often she stands in the sea with -the water waist-high about her, and sings passionate love-songs to -those who pass by on the shore. Then must men close fast their eyes and -stop their ears; for, if they yield to her seductions, the bridal bed -is in the depths of the sea and she alone rises up again to tempt yet -others with her fatal love. - -The former is without question she of whom Homer sang, ‘In company with -her do mirthful nymphs ... range o’er the land.... High above them all -she carries her head and brow, and full easily is she known, though -they all be beautiful’[413]. - -Nigh on three thousand years ago was composed this graceful epitome of -beliefs still current to-day; for, though the name of Artemis is no -longer heard, her personality remains. The peasants in general describe -rather than name her. In Zacynthos she is called ‘the great lady’ (ἡ -μεγάλη κυρά)[414]; in Cephalonia and in the villages of Parnassus -she is distinguished simply as ‘the chief’ or ‘the greatest’ of the -Nereids[415]; in either Chios or Scopelos (I cannot say which, for -my shepherd had been born in the former but was then living in the -latter) her title is ‘Queen of the mountains.’ In Aetolia however I was -fortunate enough to hear an actual name assigned, ἡ κυρὰ Κάλω, ‘the -lady Beautiful,’ where the shift of the accent in Κάλω as compared -with the adjective καλός is natural to the formation of a proper name, -and the feminine termination in -ω, almost obsolete now, argues an -early origin. The name therefore in its present form may have come -down unchanged from classical times; but, whatever its age, we may -at least hear in it an echo of the ancient cult-title of Artemis, -Καλλίστη, ‘most beautiful’[416]. The same deity, I suspect, survived -also until recently, under a disguised form but with a kindred name, -in Athens: for the folk there used to tell of one whom they named -‘Saint Beautiful’ (ἡ ἅγι̯α Καλή), but to whom no church was ever -dedicated[417]; her canonisation was only popular. - -The account which I received in Aetolia of this ‘lady Beautiful’ -agreed closely with the description already given of ‘the queen of -the mountains.’ In appearance and in character she is but a Nereid on -a larger scale. All the beauty and the frowardness so freely imputed -to the nymphs are superlatively hers; there is no safety from her; on -hillside, in coppice, by rivulet, everywhere she may be encountered; -the tongue that makes utterance in her presence is thenceforth tied, -and the eyes that behold her are darkened. The punishment that befell -Teiresias of old for looking upon Athena as she bathed still awaits -those who stray by mischance beside some sequestered pool or stream -where the Nereids and their queen are wont to bathe in the heat of noon. - -Such a spot, favoured in olden time by Artemis and her attendant -Naiads, was the Cretan river Amnisos[418]; and it was probably no -mere coincidence, but a good instance rather of the continuity of -local tradition, that in comparatively recent times her personality -and perhaps even her old name were still known in the district. It -is recorded that in the sixteenth century both priests and people of -the district declared that at a pretty little tarn near the Gulf of -Mirabella they had seen ‘Diana and her fair nymphs’ lay aside their -white raiment and bathe and disappear in the clear waters[419]. It -would have been highly interesting to know the name of the goddess -which the Italian writer translated as ‘Diana.’ Though it is true that -in Italy[420] Diana herself was still worshipped in magical nightly -orgies as late as the fourteenth century, it is scarcely likely that -the Italian name had been adopted in Crete. More probably the slovenly -fashion of miscalling Greek deities by Latin names was as common then -as now; and in this instance a piece of valuable evidence has thereby -been irretrievably lost. Yet the traditional connexion of Artemis with -this district of Crete warrants the assumption that the leader of the -nymphs of whom the story tells was in personality, if not also in name, -the ancient Greek goddess, and no Italian importation. - -Distinct reference to the bathing of Artemis is also made in a story -which has already been related in connexion with Aphrodite and -Eros[421]. A prince, who had journeyed to the garden of Eros to fetch -water for the healing of his father’s blindness, saw in the spring -there ‘a woman white as snow and shining as the moon. And it was in -very truth the moon that bathed here.’ The last sentence, provided -always that it be free from modern scholastic contamination, is an -unique example of the survival of Artemis in the _rôle_ of the moon; -while the healing properties of the spring in which she bathes offer -a coincidence, certainly undesigned, with the powers of the goddess -whom her worshippers of yore besought to ‘banish unto the mountain-tops -sickness and suffering’[422]. - -Whether ‘the lady Beautiful’ is known now also in her ancient -huntress-guise, is a point not readily determined. In Aetolia certainly -I once or twice heard mention of her hunting on the mountains, but -without feeling sure whether the word ‘hunt’ was being used literally -or in metaphor. Expressions borrowed from the chase are not uncommon -in the language, and the particular verb κυνηγῶ, ‘I hunt,’ is in the -vernacular used of anything from rabbit-shooting to wife-beating. The -injuries inflicted by Artemis on those who trespass upon her haunts -might possibly be denoted by the same term. On the other hand it is -not in the character of ‘the lady Beautiful,’ as it is in that of the -‘hunter’ Charos, to seek men out and slay them; men may fall chance -victims to the sudden anger of the goddess, but they are the chosen -quarry of the other’s prowess; he is a true ‘hunter’ of men, and, try -as they will to evade him, he still pursues; but Artemis strikes none -who turn aside from her path. I incline therefore to believe that the -word ‘to hunt’ was intended literally when I heard it used of ‘the lady -Beautiful,’ and that the ancient Artemis’ love of the chase is not -forgotten by the Aetolian peasantry. - -Such are the reminiscences of Artemis which I have been able to -gather in a few districts of modern Greece. But it is clear that down -to the seventeenth century the goddess was much more widely known. -Leo Allatius[423], writing about the year 1630, after giving a good -description of the Nereids, plunges abruptly into a long quotation from -Michael Psellus, from which and from Allatius’ own comments on it some -information about the Queen of the Nereids may be gleaned. The passage -in question runs as follows, the comments and explanations in brackets -being my own:-- - -‘ἡ καλὴ τὸν ὡραῖον. Supply ἀπέτεκεν. (Apparently a proverb, ‘Fair -mother, fine son,’ to the usage of which Psellus gives some religious -colour.) For the Virgin that brought forth was wonderfully fair, -dazzling in the brightness of her graces, and her son was exceeding -beautiful, fair beyond the sons of men. (Notwithstanding however the -religious significance of the proverb, he at once condemns the use of -it.) As a matter of fact, the phrase is due to faulty speech. For the -popular language has perverted the saying. It is right to say καλὴν -τῶν ὀρέων (‘fair lady of the mountains’); but the people have made -the saying καλὴ τὸν ὡραῖον (‘fair mother, fine son’). (There is no -distinction in sound, according to the modern pronunciation, between -τῶν ὀρέων and τὸν ὡραῖον.) Hence we see that the popular imagination -had once fashioned, quite unreasonably, a female deity whose domain was -the mountains and who as it were disported herself upon them.... There -is no deity called ‘fair lady of the mountains,’ nor is the so-called -Barychnas a deity at all but a trouble arising in the head from -heartburn or ill-digested food, ... which is also known as Ephialtes.’ - -Here Psellus is rambling in his dissertation as wildly as though his -own head were affected by this demoniacal ailment. Which Allatius -observing comments thus:-- - -‘What has Barychnas or Babutzicarius[424] or if you like Ephialtes to -do with the fair lady of the woods or the mountains (_pulcram nemorum -sive montium_)? From them men suffer lying abed; whereas attacks such -as we have said are made by Callicantzarus[425], Burcolacas[426], -or Nereid, occur in the open country and public roadways.... And -Psellus himself knew quite well that the ‘fair lady of the mountains’ -was nothing other than those who are commonly called the ‘fair -mistresses’[427] (i.e. Nereids), who have nothing on earth to do with -Barychnas and Ephialtes.’ - -The argument of this strangely confused passage is happily beside our -mark, and we need not puzzle, with Psellus, over the demonology of -dyspepsia. His interpretation of the phrase καλὴ τῶν ὀρέων I have even -ventured to omit, for a devious path of wilful reasoning leads only to -the conclusion that it means the tree on which Christ was crucified. -The only method in his mad medley of medicine and theology is the -intention to refute the popular belief in a beautiful goddess who -haunted the mountains. - -Some details of the belief may be gathered from Allatius’ criticism of -the argument. Psellus mentions only the title ἡ καλὴ τῶν ὀρέων, but -Allatius amplifies it in the phrase _pulcram nemorum sive montium_, -implying thereby that in his own time Artemis--for it can be none -other--was associated as much with woodland as with mountain; while her -intimate connexion with the Nereids is adduced as a matter of common -knowledge. The somewhat loose phrase by which Allatius indicates this -fact--_pulcram montium nihil aliud esse quam eas quas vulgus vocat -pulcras dominas_--must not be read in any strict and narrow sense. The -beautiful lady of the mountains is, he means, just such as are the -Nereids; but she is a definite person, distinguished as of old among -her comrades by supreme grace and loveliness. - -The statements of Leo Allatius, based as they are in the main upon his -own recollections of his native Chios, find remarkable corroboration -in a history of the same island written a little earlier by one -Jerosme Justinian[428]. In the main the history is purely fabulous, -taking its start from a point, if my memory serves me rightly, many -centuries earlier than the Deluge; but the reference to contemporary -superstitions may I think be trusted. - -Previously to the passage which I translate, the writer has been -telling the tale of the building of a wonderful tower by king Scelerion -of Chios, wherein to guard his daughter Omorfia (Beauty) and three -maids of honour with her until such time as he should find a husband -worthy of her; how the workmen never left the tower till it was -finished; how the master-mason threw down his implements from the top -and himself essayed to fly down on wings of his own contrivance, which -however failed to work as he had hoped, with the result that he fell -into the river below the castle and was drowned; and how his ghost -was seen there every first of May at midday. This story, which may be -taken as a fair type of the whole ‘history,’ leads, by its mentions of -apparitions on May 1st, to the following passage[429]:-- - -‘They have also another foolish belief, that near the tower are to be -seen three youthful women, clothed in white, who invite passers-by to -throw themselves into the river and get some cups of gold and silver -which by diabolical illusion are seen floating on the water, in the -hope that going into the river they may be drowned in a whirlpool -called by the Greeks Chiroclacas, the water of which penetrates beneath -the mountain as far as the precipice where the princess still shows -herself. Further, there is no manner of doubt that the three ladies -who appear to the inhabitants of the place are those spirits who make -their dwelling in the water, assuming the form of women, and called by -the ancients _Nereides_ or _Negiardes_; the good women are so abused by -these illusions that on the first of May they are wont to make crosses -on their doors, saying that the goddess of their mountains is due to -come and visit them in their houses, and that without this mark she -would not come in; likewise they say that she would slay any one who -should go to meet her. And so they give her the name of ‘good,’ being -obliged by the fear in which they hold her to give her this title of -honour. Some people are of opinion that this goddess is one of the -Oread nymphs who dwell in the mountains....’ - -This ‘goddess of the mountains’ whom they call ‘good’ (i.e. probably -καλή) is beyond doubt the same who was known to Psellus and to -Allatius as ἡ καλὴ τῶν ὀρέων, ‘the beautiful lady of the mountains,’ -and to my pastoral informant as ἡ βασίλισσα τῶν βουνῶν, ‘the queen of -the mountains’; and in general the conception of her is the same as -continues locally to the present day. One statement indeed I cannot -explain, namely that the women make crosses on their doors with the -purpose of attracting the goddess to their houses; for I have already -mentioned the same use of the symbol for the contrary purpose of -keeping the Nereids out[430]. Possibly as regards this detail of the -‘foolish belief’ the _grand seigneur_ was wrongly informed. But in -other respects, in the close association of the goddess with the Oreads -or other nymphs, in the fear which she inspired, in the belief that she -slew those who ventured upon her path, the Chian record is in complete -agreement with the description which I have given from oral sources. In -terror, as in charm, the Nereids’ queen is foremost. - -A contrary view however is taken by Bernard Schmidt[431], who states -that she is pictured by the commonfolk as gentler and friendlier -to man than her companions, and even disposed to check their light -and froward ways. On such a point, I freely admit, local tradition -might well vary; but in this particular case I am inclined to think -that Schmidt fell into the error of confusing the wild-roaming, -nymph-escorted goddess of hill and vale and fountain with that other -goddess who dwells solitary in the heart of the mountain, dispensing -blessings to the good and pains to the wicked, and in the conception of -whom we found an aftermath of the ancient crop of legends concerning -Demeter and Kore. Surely this grand and lonely figure, ‘the Mistress -of the Earth and of the Sea,’ is in every trait different from the -lovely, capricious, cruel ‘Queen of the Mountains.’ Indeed the very -circumstance of both presentations being known in one and the same -district--as, to my own knowledge, in Aetolia, and, on Schmidt’s own -showing, in Zacynthos[432]--proves that two divine persons, in type -and in character essentially different, are here involved, and not -merely two accidental and local differentiations of the same deity. -Doubtless in the more ‘civilised’ parts of Greece (to use the word -beloved of the half-educated town-bred Greek), in the parts where old -beliefs and customs are falling into decay and contempt while nothing -good is substituted for them, even the lower classes have lost or are -losing count and memory of many of those powers whom their forefathers -acknowledged; but in the more favourably sequestered villages, let us -say, of Aetolia, where superstition still fears no mockery, no peasant -would commit the mistake of confounding his Demeter with his Artemis. -Between majestic loneliness and frolicsome throng, between dignified -beauty and bewitching loveliness, between gentleness and lightness, -between love of good and wanton merriment, between justice and caprice, -the gulf is wide. - -But while the modern Artemis is the leader of her nymphs in mischief -and even in cruelty, it must not be thought that she is always a foe -to man. In Aetolia ‘the lady Beautiful’ is quick to avenge a slight or -an intrusion; but for those who pay her due reverence she is a ready -helper and a giver of good gifts. Health and wealth lie in her hand, -to bestow or to withhold, as in the hands of the Nereids. Hence even -he whom her sudden anger has once smitten may regain her favour by -offerings of honey and other sweetmeats on the scene of his calamity. -And probably peace-offerings with less definite intent have been or -still are in vogue; for it is reported that presents used to be brought -to the cross-roads in Zacynthos at midday or midnight simply to appease -‘the great lady’ and her train[433], a survival surely of the ancient -banquets of Hecate surnamed Τριοδῖτις, ‘Goddess of the Cross-roads.’ - -In some cases hesitation may be felt in pronouncing an opinion whether -it is for Artemis and the nymphs or for the Fates[434] (Μοῖραι) that -these gifts are intended; and in the category of the doubtful must -be included all those cases where the dedication of the offerings -is merely to the καλαὶς κυρᾶδες[435], ‘good ladies,’ no further -information being vouchsafed. Several writers, including the German -Ross and the Greek Pittakis, appear to have assumed without sufficient -enquiry that none but the Nereids could be thus designated; but as a -matter of fact, the same euphemistic title is occasionally given also -to the Fates[436]; and while I incline to trust the experience and -judgement of Ross in the general statement which he makes concerning -such offerings at Athens, Thebes, and elsewhere[437], the accuracy of -Pittakis[438] on the other hand is challenged by the actual spot which -he is describing when he identifies the ‘good ladies’ with the Nereids; -for the place was none other than the so-called ‘prison of Socrates,’ -which the testimony of many travellers concurs in assigning to the -Fates. - -But, though some of the evidence concerning offerings demands closer -scrutiny before it can have any bearing upon the continued belief in -the existence of Artemis, there are certainly some corners of Greece in -which that goddess is still worshipped. ‘The great lady,’ ‘the Queen of -the mountains,’ ‘the lady Beautiful’ are the various titles of a single -goddess whose beauty and quick anger have ever since the heroic age -held the Greek folk in awe and demanded their reverence; and until the -inroads of European civilisation destroy with the weapon of ridicule -all that is old in custom and creed, Artemis will continue to hold some -sway over hill and stream and woodland. - - * * * * * - -The other queen, of whom my boatman spoke, ‘the Queen of the Shore,’ -she who stands in the shallows and by her beauty and sweet voice -entices the unwary to share her bed in the depths of the sea, must -I think be identified with a being who is more commonly called ‘the -Lamia of the Sea’ or ‘the Lamia of the Shore.’ A popular poem[439] from -Salonica, in which these two titles are found side by side, tells of a -contest between her and a young shepherd. One day, in disregard of his -mother’s warning, he was playing his pipes upon the shore, when the -Lamia appeared to him and made a wager with him that she would dance -longer than he would go on playing. If he should win, he should have -her to wife; if she should win, she was to take all his flocks as the -prize. Three days the shepherd played, three whole nights and days; -then his strength failed him, and the Lamia took his sheep and goats -and left him destitute. - -This poem has some points in common with a belief said to be held in -the district of Parnassos, that if a young man--especially one who is -handsome--play the flute or sing at mid-day or midnight upon the shore, -the Lamia thereof emerges from the depths of the sea, and with promises -of a happy life tries to persuade him to be her husband and to come -with her into the sea; if the young man refuse, she slays him[440]; and -presumably, though this is not mentioned, if he consent, she drowns him. - -The same Lamia, it is recorded[441], is also known on the coasts of -Elis as a dangerous foe to sailors; for her work is the waterspout and -the whirlwind, whereby their ships are engulfed. Among the Cyclades too -the same belief certainly prevails (though I have never obtained there -any details concerning the character of the Lamia); for on seeing a -waterspout the sailors will exclaim, ‘the Lamia of the Sea is passing’ -(περνάει ἡ Λάμια τοῦ πελάγου), and sometimes stick a black-handled -knife into the mast as a charm against her[442]. - -In these somewhat meagre accounts of the Lamia of the Sea, there are -several points in harmony with the general conception of Nereids. -She is beautiful; she seeks the love of young men, even though that -love mean death to them; she is sweet of voice and untiring in dance; -and she passes to and fro in waterspout or whirlwind. It is not -surprising then to find that in Elis she is actually named queen of the -Nereids[443], that is, without doubt, of the sea-nymphs only, since -she herself has her domain only in the sea. And the title ‘queen of -the shore’ which I learnt of my boatman from Scyros points to the same -belief; for as we found Artemis, ‘queen of the mountains,’ to be the -leader of all the Nereids of the land, so should ‘the queen of the -shore’ be ruler over the Nereids of the sea. - -How far this conception of the Lamia of the Sea accords with classical -tradition, it is impossible to decide. Only in one passage, a fragment -of Stesichorus[444], is there any evidence of the connexion of a Lamia -with the sea. There the marine monster, Scylla, was made ‘the daughter -of Lamia,’ a phrase which has given rise to the conjecture that the -ancients like the moderns, as we shall see in the next section, -recognised more than one species. A marine Lamia would supply the most -natural parentage for Scylla; and if her mother may be identified -with the modern Lamia of the Sea, the foe of ships and creator of the -waterspout, the character of Scylla is true to her lineage. - -But the other traits in the character of the modern Lamia of the Sea -can hardly be hers by such ancient prescription. It is difficult to -suppose that Stesichorus pictured Scylla’s mother as a thing of beauty; -and the charm of the modern Lamia’s love-songs which seduce men to -their death is perhaps an attribute borrowed from the Sirens. It is -therefore in virtue of acquired rather than original qualities that the -Lamia of the Sea has come to be queen of the sea-nymphs. - - -§ 11. LAMIAE, GELLOUDES, AND STRIGES. - -The three classes of female monsters, of whom the present section -treats, have ever since the early middle ages[445] been constantly -confounded, and the special attributes of each assigned promiscuously -to the others. This is due to the fact that all three possess one -pronounced quality in common, the propensity towards preying upon young -children; and wherever this horrible trait has absorbed, as it well -may, the whole attention of mediaeval writer or modern peasant, the -distinctions between them in origin and nature have become obscured. -Yet sufficient information is forthcoming, if used with discrimination, -to enable some account to be given of each class separately. - -The Lamiae are hideous monsters, shaped as gigantic and coarse-looking -women for the most part, but, with strange deformities of the lower -limbs such as Aristophanes attributed to a kindred being, the -Empusa[446]. Their feet are dissimilar and may be more than two -in number; one is often of bronze, while others resemble those of -animals--ox, ass, or goat[447]. Tradition relates that one of these -monsters was once shot by a peasant at Koropíon, a village in Attica, -and was found to measure three fathoms in length; and her loathsome -nature was attested by the fact that, when her body was thrown out in -a desert plain, no grass would grow where her blood had dripped[448]. -The chief characteristics of the Lamiae, apart from their thirst for -blood, are their uncleanliness, their gluttony, and their stupidity. -The details of the first need not be named, but would still furnish -a jest for Aristophanes in his coarser mood as they did of old[449]. -Their gluttony is clearly proved by their unwieldy corpulence. Their -stupidity is best shown in their sorry management of their homes; -for even the Lamiae have their domestic duties, being mated usually, -according to the folk-tales[450], with dragons (δράκοι), and making -their abode in caverns and desert places. They ply the broom so poorly -that ‘the Lamia’s sweeping’ (τῆς Λάμιας τὰ σαρώματα) has become a -proverb for untidiness[451]; they are so ignorant of bread-making -that they put their dough into a cold oven and heap the fire on top -of it[452]; they give their dogs hay to eat, and bones to their -horses[453]. But they have at least the redeeming virtue of sometimes -showing gratitude to those who help them out of the ill plight to which -their ignorance has brought them[454]. - -Their stupidity also is regarded by the Greeks as a cause of honesty. -Though they are often rich, as being the consorts of dragons whose -chief function it is to keep guard over hidden treasure, they have not -the wit to keep their wealth, but foolishly keep their word instead. -Athenian tradition tells of a very rich Lamia (known by the name of ἡ -Μόρα, perhaps better written Μώρα, a proper name formed from μωρός, -‘foolish’), who used to walk about at night, seizing and crushing men -whom she met till they roared like bulls. But if her victim kept his -wits about him and snatched her head-dress from her, she would, in -order to get it back, promise him both life and wealth, and keep her -word[455]. - -Such aspects of the Lamiae however are by no means universally -acknowledged; nine peasants out of ten, I suspect, could give no -further information about their character than that they feed on human -flesh and choose above all new-born infants as their prey. Hence -comes the popular phrase (employed, it would appear, in more than one -district of Greece) in reference to children who have died suddenly, -τὸ παιδὶ τὸ ἔπνιξε ἡ Λάμια[456], ‘the Child has been strangled by the -Lamia.’ - -But in general I think the ravages of Lamiae have ceased to inspire -much genuine fear in the peasants’ minds. One there was, so I heard, -near Kephalóvryso in Aetolia, whose dwelling-place, a cave beside -a torrent-bed, was to some extent dreaded and avoided. But in most -parts the Lamia only justifies the memory of her existence by serving -to provide adventures for the heroes of folk-stories; by lending her -name, along with Empusa and Mormo (who still locally survive[457]), -as a terror with which mothers may intimidate naughty children, or by -furnishing it as a ready weapon of vituperation in the wordy warfare of -women. - -The word Lamia, which has survived unchanged in form down to the -present day save that the by-forms Λάμνα, Λάμνια and Λάμνισσα are -locally preferred, did not originally it would seem indicate a species -of monster but a single person. Lamia according to classical tradition -was the name of a queen of Libya who was loved by Zeus, and thus -excited the resentment of Hera, who robbed her of all her children; -whereupon the desolate queen took up her abode in a grim and lonely -cavern, and there changed into a malicious and greedy monster, who -in envy and despair stole and killed the children of more fortunate -mothers[458]. - -But a plural of the word, indicating that the single monster had -been multiplied into a whole class, soon occurs. Philostratus[459] -in speaking of ‘the Empusae, which the common people call Lamiae and -Mormolykiae,’ says, ‘Now these desire indeed the pleasures of love, -but yet more do they desire human flesh, and use the pleasures of love -to decoy those on whom they will feast.’ A plural such as is here used -might of course be merely a studied expression of contempt for vulgar -superstitions; but the latter part of the quotation seems to give a -fair summary of the character of ancient Lamiae. This is illustrated -by a gruesome story, narrated by Apuleius[460], of two Lamiae who, in -vengeance for a slight of the love proffered by one of them to a young -man named Socrates, tore out his heart one night before the eyes of his -companion Aristomenes. - -Of these two main characteristics of the ancient Lamiae, the one, -lasciviousness, has come to be mainly imputed in modern times to the -Lamia of the Sea, the single deity who rules the sea-nymphs; while the -craving for human flesh is the most marked feature of the terrestrial -tribe of Lamiae. But the latter certainly are the truest descendants -of the ancient Lamia, and occupy a place in popular belief such as she -held of old; for few, it would seem, stood then in any serious fear of -the Lamia; the testimony of several ancient writers[461] (the story of -Apuleius notwithstanding) proves that more than two thousand years ago -she had already fallen to the level of bogeys which frighten none but -children. - - -GELLOUDES. - -In my account of the Nereids properly so-called, reference was made to -certain beings known in the Cyclades as ἀγιελοῦδες or γιαλοῦδες and -reckoned by several writers[462] among the nymphs of the sea. In this -they certainly have the support of popular etymology; for in Amorgos -Theodore Bent[463] heard that ‘an evil spirit lived close by, which now -and again rises out of the sea and seizes infants; hence it is called -Gialoù (from γιαλός[464], the sea (_sic_)).’ But it is, I think, only -an erroneous association by the inhabitants of the Cyclades of two -like-sounding words which has caused the Ἀγιελοῦδες to be regarded -as marine demons; Bent’s information transposes cause and effect. -Elsewhere in Greece there are known certain beings called Γελλοῦδες or -Γιλλοῦδες, female demons with a propensity to carry off young children -and to devour them; and it is strange that so careful an authority on -Greek folk-lore as Bernhard Schmidt should not have recognised that the -name ἀγιελοῦδες employed in some of the Cyclades is only a dialectic -form of the commoner γελλοῦδες[465] with an euphonetic ἀ prefixed as in -the case of νεράϊδες and ἀνεράϊδες. Enquiry in Tenos revealed to me the -fact, not mentioned, though perhaps implied, in the statement of Bent, -that the ἀγιελοῦδες are there believed to feed upon the children whom -they carry off. This trait at once confirms their identity with the -γελλοῦδες, and renders it impossible to class them as a form of nymph. -It is of course believed that nymphs of the sea or of rivers, when they -carry off human children to their watery habitations, do incidentally -drown them, but by an oversight and not of malice prepense. But -savagely to prey upon human flesh--for all the nymphs’ wantonness and -cruelty, that is a thing abhorrent from their nature and inconceivable -in them. This horrid propensity proves the γελλοῦδες or ἀγιελοῦδες to -be a separate class of female demons. - -The chief authority on these malignant beings is Leo Allatius[466], -who both quotes a series of passages which enable us to trace the -development of the belief in them, and also tells a story which is the -only source of evidence concerning other of their characteristics than -their appetite for the flesh of infants. - -Their prototype, mentioned, we are told, by Sappho, was the maiden -Gello, whose spectre after her untimely end was said by the people of -Lesbos to beset children and to be chargeable with the early deaths of -infants[467]. - -The individuality of this Gello continued to be recognised to some -extent as late as the tenth century[468]; for Ignatius, a deacon of -Constantinople, in his life of the Patriarch Tarasius named her as a -single demon, though he added that the crime of killing children in -the same way was also imputed to a whole class of witches. ‘Hence,’ -comments Allatius, ‘it has come about that at the present day Striges -(i.e. the witches of whom Ignatius speaks), because they practise -evil arts upon infants and by sucking their blood or in other ways -cause their death, are called Gellones[469].’ In the story also which -exhibits the chief qualities of this demon, her name (in the form -Γυλοῦ) appears still as a proper name. - -But the multiplication of the single demon into a whole class dates -from long before the time of Allatius. John of Damascus in the eighth -century used the plural γελοῦδες as a popular word, the meaning of -which he took to be the same as that of Striges (στρίγγαι); and Michael -Psellus too in the eleventh century evidently regarded these two words -as interchangeable designations of a class of beings (whether of demons -or of witches, he leaves uncertain); for after an exact account of the -Striges and their thirst for children’s blood, he says that new-born -infants who waste away (as if from the draining of their blood by these -Striges) are called Γιλλόβρωτα[470], ‘Gello-eaten.’ - -The story of Leo Allatius[471], which sets forth the chief qualities -of Gello, is a legend of which the Saints Sisynios and Synidoros are -the heroes. The children of their sister Melitene had been devoured -by this demon, and they set themselves to capture her. She, to effect -her escape, at once changed her shape, and became first a swallow and -then a fish; but, for all her slippery and elusive transformations, -they finally caught her in the form of a goat’s hair adhering to the -king’s beard. Then addressing to her the words ‘Cease, foul Gello, from -slaying the babes of Christians,’ they worked upon her fears until they -extorted from her a confession of her twelve and a half names, the -knowledge of which was a safeguard against her assaults. - -It is this list of names in which the various aspects of her activity -appear. The first is Γυλοῦ, one of the forms of the name Gello; the -second Μωρά[472], the name of a kind of Lamia; the third Βυζοῦ or -‘blood-sucker’; the fourth Μαρμαροῦ, probably ‘stony-hearted’; the -fifth Πετασία, for she can fly as a bird in the air; the sixth Πελαγία, -for she can swim as a fish in the sea; the seventh Βορδόνα[473], -probably meaning ‘stooping like a kite on her prey’; the eighth -Ἀπλετοῦ, ‘insatiable’; the ninth Χαμοδράκαινα, for she can lurk like -a snake in the earth; the tenth Ἀναβαρδαλαία[474], possibly ‘soaring -like a lark in the air’; the eleventh Ψυχανασπάστρια[475], ‘snatcher -of souls’; the twelfth Παιδοπνίκτρια, ‘strangler of children’; and the -half-name Στρίγλα, the kind of witch whereof the next section treats. - -Whether these names are anywhere still remembered as a mystic -incantation, or all the qualities which they imply still imputed to -the Gelloudes, I cannot say. But a modern cure for such of the demon’s -injuries as are not immediately fatal has been recorded from Amorgos. -‘If a child has been afflicted by it, the mother first sends for the -priest to curse the demon, and scratches her child with her nails; if -these plans do not succeed, she has to go down at sunset to the shore, -and select forty round stones brought up by forty different waves; -these she must take home and boil in vinegar, and when the cock crows -the evil phantom will disappear and leave the child whole[476].’ - - -STRIGES. - -The Striges, though often confused with Lamiae and with Gelloudes, are -essentially different from them. The two classes with which I have -dealt are demons; the Striges, in the modern acceptation of the term, -are women who possess the power to transform themselves into birds of -prey or other animals; and it is only the taste for blood, shared by -them with those demons, which has created the confusion. - -The Striges moreover cannot, like the Lamiae or Gelloudes, be claimed -either as an original product of the Greek imagination or as the -exclusive property of Greek superstition at the present day. The -Albanians have a word σ̈τρῑ́γ̇ε̱α, and the people of Corsica a -term _strega_, both of which denote a witch of the same powers and -propensities as are feared in Greece; and it is likely that all of -them--Greeks, Albanians, Corsicans--have borrowed the conception from -Italy. The ancient Greeks indeed had a word στρίγξ identical with -the _strix_ of Latin, but the shrieking night-bird denoted by it was -not, so far as I can discover, invested by Greek imagination with any -terrors. In Italy on the contrary the Strix was widely feared as a -bloodthirsty monster in bird-form. Pliny evidently supposed it to be -some actual bird, though he doubted the fables concerning it. ‘The -_strix_,’ he says, ‘certainly is mentioned in ancient curses; but what -kind of bird it may be, is not I think agreed[477].’ Perhaps in those -‘ancient curses’ it was invoked to inflict such punishment upon enemies -as it once meted out to Otos and Ephialtes for their attempt upon -Diana’s chastity[478]. - -The notion however that Striges were not really birds but witches in -bird-form early suggested itself and found an exponent in Ovid[479]. -‘Voracious birds,’ he says, ‘there are ... that fly forth by night and -assail children who still need a nurse’s care, and seize them out of -their cradles and do them mischief. With their beaks they are said to -pick out the child’s milk-fed bowels, and their throat is full of the -blood they drink. Striges they are called ... and whether they come -into being as birds or are changed thereto by incantation, and the -Marsian spell transforms old women into winged things,’--such are their -ways. - -This was probably the state of the superstition when the Greeks added -Striges to their own list of nightly terrors; and the very form of -the word in modern Greek, στρίγλα or στρίγγλα (being apparently a -diminutive, _strigula_, such as spoken Latin would readily have formed -from the literary form _strix_), testifies to the borrowing of the -belief. - -In Greece the latter of the two ways in which Ovid explained the -origin of the Strix seems to have been generally accepted as correct. -It is true that the modern Greeks still have a real bird called -στριγλοποῦλι[480] (either some kind of owl or the night-jar), which not -only loves twilight or darkness in the upper world but is also said to -haunt the gloomy demesnes of Charos below--thereby revealing perhaps -some slight evidence of its relationship to the _strix_ which tormented -the brother giants; but the Strigla has long ceased to be a real bird, -and (apart from the confusion with a Lamia or Gello) is always a witch. - -The condition of the belief in the eighth century is noticed by John of -Damascus[481]. ‘There are some of the more ignorant who say that there -are women known as Striges (Στρῦγγαι), otherwise called Geloudes. They -allege that these are to be seen at night passing through the air, and -that when they happen to come to a house they find no obstacle in doors -and bolts, but though the doors are securely locked make their way in -and throttle infants. Others say that the Strix devours the liver and -all the internal organs of the children, and so sets a short limit to -their lives. And they stoutly declare, some that they have seen, and -others that they have heard, the Strix entering houses, though the -doors were locked, either in bodily form or as a spirit only.’ - -Again in the eleventh century Michael Psellus noticed the same -superstition, though as we have seen his language suggests some -confusion of Striges with Gelloudes. But he is really describing the -faculty of the former to assume the shape of birds when he says, ‘The -superstition obtaining nowadays invests old women with this power. It -provides them with wings in their extreme age, and represents them as -settling[482] unseen upon infants, whom, it is alleged, they suck until -they exhaust all the humours in them’[483]. - -Leo Allatius, by whom this passage is cited, produces both from his -own experience and from the testimony of others several instances of -such occurrences, and mentions also the various precautions taken -against them. These include all-night watches, lamps suspended before -the pictures of patron-saints, amulets of garlic or of coral, and -the smearing of oil from some saint’s lamp on the face of the child -or invalid. It will suffice however to quote his general description -of the Striges according to the beliefs of the seventeenth century. -Striges (στρίγλαις), he tells us in effect, are old women whom poverty -and misery drive to contract an alliance with the devil for all evil -purposes; men are little molested by them, but women and still more -commonly children, being a weaker and easier prey, suffer much from -them, their breath alone[484] being so pernicious as to cause insanity -or even death. They are especially addicted to attacking new-born -babes, sucking out their blood and leaving them dead, or so polluting -them by their touch that what life remains to them is never free from -sickness. - -It will have been noticed in this last account of the Striges, that the -range of their activity is somewhat enlarged, so that women as well -as children fall victims to them. At the present day, though they are -believed to prey chiefly upon infants, even grown men are not immune, -as witness a story[485] from Messenia. - -Once upon a time a man was passing the night at the house of a friend -whose household consisted of his wife and mother-in-law. About midnight -some noise awakened him, and listening intently he made out the voices -of the two women conversing together. What he heard terrified him, for -they were planning to eat himself or his host, whichever proved the -fatter. At once he perceived that his friend’s wife and mother-in-law -were Striges, and knowing that there was no other means of escaping the -danger that was threatening him, he determined to try to save himself -by guile. The Striges advanced towards the sleeping men and took hold -of their guest’s foot to see if it was heavy, and consequently fat and -good for eating; he however, understanding their purpose, raised his -foot of his own accord as they took it in their hands and weighed it, -so that it felt to them as light as a feather, and they let it drop -again disappointed. Then they took hold of the foot of the other man -who was sleeping, and naturally found it very heavy. Delighted at the -result of their investigation, they ripped open the wretched man’s -breast, pulled out his liver and other parts, and threw them among the -hot ashes on the hearth to cook. Then noticing that they had no wine, -they flew to the wine-shop, took what they wanted and returned. But -in the interval the guest got up, collected the flesh that was being -cooked, stowed it away in his pouch, and put in its place on the hearth -some animal’s dung. The Striges however ate up greedily what was on -the hearth, complaining only that it was somewhat over-done. The next -day the two friends rose and left the house; the victim of the previous -night was very pale, but he did not bear the slightest wound or scar -on his breast. He remarked to his companion that he felt excessively -hungry, and the other gave him what had been cooked during the night, -which he ate and found exceedingly invigorating; the blood mounted to -his cheeks and he was perfectly sound again. Thereupon his friend told -him what had happened during the night, and they went together and slew -the Striges. - -This story exhibits all the essential qualities of Striges. The pair -of them are women, and one at least, the mother-in-law, is old; they -choose the night for their depredations; they can assume the form of -birds, for ‘they flew,’ it is said, to the wine-shop; and their taste -for human flesh is the _motif_ of the story. - -It must however be acknowledged that as the area of the Striges’ -activities has become somewhat extended, so also has the ancient -limitation of the term to old women become locally somewhat relaxed. In -many parts of Greece a belief is held that certain infants are liable -to a form of lycanthropy; and female infants so disposed are sometimes -called Striges. A story from Tenos[486], narrated in several versions, -concerns an infant princess who was a Strigla. Every day one of the -king’s horses was found to have been killed and devoured in the night. -The three princes, her brothers, therefore kept watch in turn; and it -fell to the fortune of the youngest of them, owing to his courage and -skill, to detect the malefactor. About midnight he heard a noise, and -fired into the middle of a cloud that seemed to hang over the horses, -thereby so wounding his sister that the mark observed on her next day -betrayed her nightly doings. Not daring however to accuse her to his -father, he fled from home with his mother to a place of safety, while -the girl remained undisturbed in her voracity and consumed one by one -all the people of the town. - -But in other places where the same belief prevails, as we shall see -later, these _enfants terribles_, who may be of either sex, are called -not Striges but by some such name as ‘callicantzaros,’ ‘vrykolakas,’ -or ‘gorgon’; and this variety of names is in itself a proof that, while -the idea of infant cannibals is widespread, no exact verbal equivalent -now exists, and each of the several names used is only requisitioned to -supply the deficiency. A child can indeed enjoy the title of Strigla by -courtesy; only an old woman can possess it of right. - -Thus the old Graeco-Roman fear of Striges still remains little changed. -The Church has repeatedly forbidden belief in them[487]; legislation -has prohibited in times past the killing of them[488]. But the link of -superstition between the past and the present is still unbroken; and -witch-burning is an idea which in any secluded corner of Greece might -still be put into effect[489]. - - -§ 12. GORGONS. - -The modern conception of the Gorgon (ἡ γοργόνα) or Gorgons -(γοργόνες)--for popular belief seems to vary locally between -recognising one or more such beings--is extremely complex. Of my own -knowledge I can unfortunately contribute nothing new to what has been -published by others concerning them; for though I have several times -heard Gorgons mentioned, and always on further enquiry found them to -be terrible demons who dwell in the sea, it has so chanced that I have -been unable to get any more explicit information on the subject. The -present section is therefore, so far as the facts are concerned, a -compilation from the researches of others, especially of Prof. Polites -of Athens University. - -A Gorgon is represented as half woman, half fish. Rough sketches on the -walls of small taverns and elsewhere may often be observed, depicting -a woman with the tail of a fish, half emerging from the waves, and -holding in one hand a ship, in the other an anchor; sometimes also -she is armed with a breastplate[490]. Similar designs are also to be -seen tattooed upon the arms or breasts of men of the lower classes, -especially among the maritime population. - -The Gorgons themselves are to be encountered in all parts of the sea; -but their favourite resort, especially on Saturday nights, is reputed -to be the Black Sea, where if one of them meets a ship, grasping the -bows with her hand she asks, ‘Is king Alexander living?’ To this the -sailors must reply ‘he lives and reigns,’ and may add ‘and he keeps the -world at peace,’ or ‘and long life to you too!’; for then the awful -and monstrous Gorgon in gladness at the tidings transforms herself -into a beautiful maiden and calms the waves and sings melodiously to -her lyre. If on the contrary the sailors make the mistake of saying -that Alexander is dead, she either capsizes the ship with her own -hand or by the wildness of her lamentations raises a storm from which -there is no escape nor shelter[491]. The mention of Alexander the -Great in these stories of the Gorgons, as also sometimes in connexion -with the Nereids, is unimportant; it is not an instance of purely -oral tradition, but has its source in the history of Alexander by -Pseudocallisthenes[492], of which there exist paraphrases in the -popular tongue. The interest of such fables lies in the association of -beauty and melody as well as of horror with the Gorgons, and in the -_rôle_ of marine deity which they play. - -In general however it is upon the monstrous and terrifying aspect of -the Gorgons that the common-folk seize, so that the name Gorgon is -metaphorically applied to ill-favoured and malevolent women[493]. -Thus in Rhodes it is used of any large fierce-looking virago[494]; in -Cephalonia (where also the word Μέδουσα, Medusa, survives in the same -sense) of any lady conspicuously ill-featured[495]. Allusion too has -already been made to the case where a child possessed by a mania of -bloodthirstiness is occasionally called a Gorgon[496]. - -But there is another and fresh aspect of the Gorgon’s nature suggested -by the use of the word in Cythnos. There it is metaphorically applied -to depraved women[497]; and this isolated usage is in accord with one -description of the Gorgon which has come down from the middle ages. -This description forms part of a poem entitled ‘The Physiologus[498]’ -(written in the most debased ecclesiastical Greek and supposed to date -from before the thirteenth century), which gives a fantastic account of -the habits of many birds and beasts among which the Gorgon is included. - -‘The Gorgon is a beast like unto a harlot; the hair of her head is -all auburn; the ends thereof are as it were heads of snakes; and her -body is bare and smooth, white as a dove, and her bosom is a woman’s -with breasts fair to behold; but the look of her face brings death; -whatsoever looks upon her falls down and dies. She dwells in the -regions of the West. She knows all languages and the speech of wild -beasts. When she desires a mate, she calls first to the lion; for fear -of death he draws not near to her. Again she calls the dragon, but -neither does he go; and even so all the beasts both small and great. -She pipes sweetly and sings with charm beyond all; lastly she utters -human voice: “Come, sate fleshly desire, ye men, of my beauty, and I -of yours.” The men, knowing then their opportunity against her, lay -snares that she may lose her pleasure; and stand afar off, that they -may not see her, and raise their voice and cry and say unto her: “Dig -a deep pit and put thy head therein, that we may not die and may come -with thee.” She straightway then goes and makes a great hole and puts -her head therein and leaves her body; from the waist downward it is -seen naked; so she remains and awaits the pains of lewdness. The man -goes from behind, cuts off her head, holds it face downward, and places -it in a vessel, and if he meet dragon or lion or leopard, he shows the -head, and the beasts die.’ - -These modern or mediaeval descriptions of the Gorgons, though they are -by no means consistent one with another, offer four main aspects in -which the modern Gorgon may be compared with the creatures of ancient -mythology. Her face is terrible either in its surpassing loveliness or -in its overwhelming hideousness. She possesses the gift of entrancing -melody. She is voluptuous. She dwells in the sea. - -The first aspect may be derived directly from the ancient conception -of the Gorgons. The word Γοργώ itself is a name formed from the -adjective γοργός and means simply ‘fierce’ or ‘terrible’ in look, -without implying anything of beauty or the opposite; while of Medusa, -the Gorgon _par excellence_, tradition relates that once she was a -beautiful maiden beloved of Poseidon, and that it was only through the -wrath of Athena that her hair was changed into writhing snakes and -her loveliness lost in horror. Moreover in ancient works of art the -representation of the Gorgon’s head varies from a type of cruel beauty -to a grinning mask. But it is also possible that the idea of their -beauty is due to a confusion of Gorgons with Sirens, from whom, as we -shall see, certain traits have certainly been borrowed. - -These traits are the two next aspects of the modern Gorgons which -we have to consider, the sweetness of their singing and their -voluptuousness. These were the essential qualities of the Sirens, and -have undoubtedly been transferred to the Gorgons no less than to the -Lamia of the Sea[499]. - -Possibly also from the same source comes the mixed shape, half woman -and half fish, in which the Gorgon is now pourtrayed. The Sirens were -indeed originally terrestrial, dwelling in a meadow near the sea, yet -not venturing in the deep themselves, but luring men to shipwreck on -the coast by the spell of their song; and an echo perhaps of this -conception, though the Sirens themselves are no longer known, lives on -in a folk-song which pictures the enchantment of a maiden’s love-song -wafted to seafarers’ ears from off the shore: ‘Thereby a ship was -passing with sails outspread. Sailors that hearken to that voice and -look upon such beauty, forget their sails and forsake their oars; they -cannot voyage any more; they know not how to set sail[500].’ But by the -sixth century[501] the traditional habitat of the Sirens had changed. -‘The Sirens,’ says an anonymous work on monsters and great beasts, -‘are mermaids, who by their exceeding beauty and winning song ensnare -mariners; from the head to the navel they are of human and maidenly -form, but they have the scaly tails of fishes[502].’ This description -establishes an unquestionable connexion between the Sirens and the -modern Gorgons. - -But the fourth aspect of the Gorgons on which I have to touch, their -connexion with the sea, is not, I think, to be explained as another -loan from the Sirens. On the contrary the Gorgons were it would seem -deities of the sea, when the Sirens were still dwellers upon the shore; -and it was their originally marine character which enabled them to -absorb the qualities once attributed to the Sirens. Thus according -to Hesiod[503] the three Gorgons were daughters of the sea-deities -Phorcys and Ceto, and their home was at the western bound of Ocean. -Further one of their number, Medusa, was loved by the sea-god Poseidon, -and gave birth both to the horse Pegasus whose name may be a derivative -of πήγη, ‘water-spring,’ and whose resort was certainly the fountain -of Pirene[504], and also to Chrysaor whose bride was ‘Callirrhoe, -daughter of far-famed Ocean.’ Whether this mythological problem is -capable of solution in terms of natural phenomena[505] does not here -concern us; but it is a straightforward and necessary inference from -these genealogical data, that an early and intimate connexion existed -between the Gorgons and the sea. And here art comes to the support of -literature. In the National Museum of Athens are two vases of about -the sixth century, depicting Gorgons in the company of dolphins. The -first, an early Attic _amphora_[506] represents the three Gorgons, of -whom Medusa appears headless, surrounded by a considerable number of -them. The second, a _kylex_[507] with offset lip of the _Kleinmeister_ -type, pourtrays a single Gorgon with a dolphin on either side. These -artistic presentments furnish the strongest possible corroboration of -Hesiodic lore, and justify the assertion that from the earliest times -the Gorgons were deities of the sea. It was clearly then in virtue of -their own marine character that they were able later to usurp also the -place of the Sirens. - -But the Sirens are not the only ancient beings who have contributed -to the formation of the popular conception of modern Gorgons. In one -story[508] the personality of Scylla is unmistakeable beneath the -disguise of name. This fusion is the more natural in that Scylla was -from the beginning[509] a monster of the sea, whose form, according -to Vergil[510], terminated like that of latter-day Gorgons in a fish’s -tail; a monster too fully as terrible in her own way as any Gorgon. The -following extract from the story contains all that is pertinent. - -‘So the lad departed and tramped on for twenty hours. Then he came to -a village by the sea, and saw some men busy lading a boat with oil, -and they were carrying on board each one a barrel. When he drew near -to them, he said, “Can you carry but one barrel at a time, my good -fellows? See how many I will carry.” So saying, he took a barrel on -each shoulder, and placed them in the boat. Then said the captain to -him, “Thank you, my lad” (for he was afraid of him), “come and have -some food.” “No, thank you, captain,” he replied, “I do not want any. -But when you are passing yonder straits, please take me along with -you.” The captain was delighted to do so, for in the sea at that place -there was a Gorgon, and from every boat that passed she took one man -as toll and devoured him, or else swamped the whole boat. So they set -out, and as they were going the captain said to the lad, “Take a turn -at the tiller, my boy, that we may go and sleep, for we are tired.” -Accordingly they went below--to sleep, so they pretended--and the -lad remained at the helm. Suddenly the boat stopped. He was looking -about on each side when he heard a voice behind him. He turned at -once and saw a beautiful woman with golden hair, who said to him, -“Give me my tribute.” “What tribute?” replied the lad. “The man whom -I devour from each boat that passes.” “Give me your hand,” said the -lad to her. Straightway without demur she gave it to him, and tried to -pull him down into the sea. At this the lad grew angry. “Come up, you -she-devil, come up here,” he cried, and dashed her upon the deck. Then -he belaboured her soundly, and said to her: “Swear to me that you will -never molest man again, or I will not let you go.” “I swear,” she said, -“by my mother the sea and by my father Alexander, that I will molest -none.” Then he threw her back into the sea.’ - -Apart from the description of the Gorgon in this story, as in others, -as a ‘beautiful woman with golden hair,’ the tradition which has -contributed chiefly to the invention of the episode is the ancient -myth of Scylla and, we may perhaps add, of Charybdis; for here too the -straits are the scene of alternative horrors, either the devouring of -one man out of the crew or the sinking of the whole craft. - -But in spite of the fusion of both Scylla and the Sirens with the -Gorgons in the crucible of popular imagination, analysis of the complex -modern conception still reveals two elements in the Gorgons’ nature -which vindicate their claim to their ancient name, their association -with the sea and the terror that they inspire. - - -§ 13. THE CENTAURS. - - ἈΝΆΓΚΗ ΜΕΤᾺ ΤΟΥ͂ΤΟ ΤῸ ΤΩ͂Ν ἹΠΠΟΚΕΝΤΑΎΡΩΝ ΕἾΔΟΣ ἘΠΑΝΟΡΘΟΥ͂ΣΘΑΙ. - - PLATO, _Phaedrus_, 7. - -The Callicántzari (Καλλικάντζαροι) are the most monstrous of all the -creatures of the popular imagination, and none are better known to the -Greek-speaking world at large; for even where educated men have ceased -to believe in them, they still figure in the stories told and retold to -children with each recurring New Year’s Day; and, among the peasants, -many reach manhood or womanhood without outgrowing their early fears of -them. - -The name Callicantzaros itself appears in many dialectic and widely -differing forms, and there are also a multitude of local by-names. Of -the former I shall treat later in discussing the origin of the word -Callicantzaros, while the by-names, being for the most part descriptive -of the appearance or qualities of these monsters, will be mentioned as -occasion requires. But even where other local names are in common use, -some form of the word Callicantzaros is almost always employed as well, -or at least is understood. - -As in the nomenclature, so too in the description of the Callicantzari, -one locality differs very widely from another. And this cannot be -merely a result of the wide distribution of the belief in them; -for the Nereids certainly are equally widely known, and yet their -appearance and habits are, broadly speaking, everywhere the same. -The extraordinary divergences and even contradictions in different -accounts of the Callicantzari demand some other explanation than that -of casual variation. That explanation, as I shall show later, lies in -their identity with the ancient Centaurs. But before I discuss their -origin, I must attempt as general a description of their appearance and -habits as the vast variation of local traditions permits. In revising -this description I have had the advantage of consulting Prof. Polites’ -new work on the traditions of modern Greece[511], from which I have -learnt some new facts, and have obtained on several points confirmation -from a new source of what I had myself heard or surmised. I take this -opportunity of gratefully acknowledging my indebtedness to him. - -In describing the Callicantzari, although the diversities of their -outward form are almost endless, two main classes of them must be -distinguished, because corresponding with that physical division there -is also a marked difference in character. The two classes differ -physically in stature, and, while all Callicantzari are essentially -mischievous in character, the mischief wrought by the larger sort is -often of a malicious and even deadly order, while the smaller sort are -more frolicsome and harmless in their tricks. - -The larger kind vary from the size of a man to that of a gigantic -monster whose loins are on a level with the chimneypots. They are -usually black in colour, and covered with a coat of shaggy hair, but -a bald variety is also sometimes mentioned. Their heads and also -their sexual organs are out of all proportion to the rest of their -bodies. Their faces are black; their eyes glare red; they have the -ears of goats or asses; from their huge mouths blood-red tongues loll -out, flanked by ferocious tusks. Their bodies are in general very -lean, so that in some districts the word Callicantzaros is applied -metaphorically to a very lean man[512]; but a shorter and thickset -variety also occurs. They have the arms and hands of monkeys, and their -nails are as long again as their fingers and curved like the talons -of a vulture. They are sometimes furnished with long thin tails. They -have the legs of a goat or an ass, or sometimes one human leg and -one of bestial form; or again both legs are of human shape, but the -foot so distorted that the toes come where the heel should be[513]. -Hence it is not surprising that they are often lame, but even so they -are swift of foot and terrible in strength. ‘They devour their road -at the pace of Pegasus,’ wrote Leo Allatius[514]; and at the present -day several by-names bear witness to their speed. In Samos they are -called Καλλισπούδηδες[515], ‘those who make good speed’; in Cyprus -Πλανήταροι[516], ‘the wanderers’; in Athens they have the humorous -title Κωλοβελόνηδες, formed from the proverbial expression βελόνια -ἔχει ’στὸν κῶλο του, ‘he has needles in his buttocks,’ said of any one -who cannot sit still, but is always on the move[517]. Their strength -also has earned them one by-name, reported from Kardamýle in Maina, τὰ -τσιλικρωτά, said to be formed from the Turkish _tselik_ (‘iron’), in -the sense of ‘strong as iron[518].’ - -All or any of the features which I have mentioned may be found in the -person of a single Callicantzaros; but it must be allowed also that no -one of them is essential. For sometimes the Callicantzaros appears in -ordinary human form without so much as a cloven hoof to distinguish -him from ordinary mankind, or again completely in animal shape. In one -place they are described as ἀγριάνθρωποι[519], savages but human in -appearance, while in another they are ἄγρια τετράποδα[520], ‘savage -quadrupeds.’ - -Yet in general the Callicantzari are neither wholly anthropomorphic nor -wholly theriomorphic, but a blend of the two. In a story of some men -at Athens who dressed themselves up as Callicantzari, it is said that -they blacked their faces and covered themselves with feathers[521]. -Again two grotesque and bestial clay statuettes from the Cabirium -near Thebes and now in the National Museum at Athens, were identified -by peasants as Callicantzari[522]; an identification I have also met -with when questioning peasants about similar objects in local museums; -in one case it was a Satyr and in another a Centaur which my guide -identified as a Callicantzaros. On the whole I should say that the -goat contributes more than any other animal to the popular conception -of these monsters. Besides having the legs and the ears of goats, as -was noted above, they are sometimes said to have their horns also; -and in Chios their resemblance to goats is so clearly recognised that -in one village they have earned the by-name of Κατσικᾶδες[523], which -by formation should mean ‘men who have to do with goats (κατσίκια),’ -though it has apparently been appropriated to the designation of beings -who are in form half goat and half man. There are however districts, as -we shall see later, in which some other animal than the goat forms the -predominant element in the monstrous _ensemble_. - -The smaller sort of Callicantzari is rarer than the large, but their -distribution is at any rate wide. They are the predominant type in -north-west Arcadia, in the district about Mount Parnassus, and at -Oenoë[524] on the southern shore of the Black Sea. They are most often -human in shape, but are mere pigmies, no taller than a child of five -or six. They are usually black, like the larger sort, but are smooth -and hairless. They are very commonly deformed, and in this respect the -strange beasts on which they ride are like them. At Arachova[525], -on the slopes of Parnassus, every one of them is said to have some -physical defect. Some are lame; others squint; others have only one -eye; others have their noses or mouths, hands or feet set all askew; -and as a cavalcade of them passes by night through the village, one is -to be seen mounted on a cock and his long thin legs trail on the ground -as he rides; another has a horse no bigger than a small dog; another, -the tiniest of them all, is perched on an enormous donkey’s back, and -when he falls off cannot mount again; and others again ride strange -unknown beasts, lame, one-eyed, or one-eared like their masters. - -Callicantzari of this type are usually harmless to men. They play -indeed the same boisterous pranks as their larger brethren, but perhaps -owing to their insignificant size are an object of merriment rather -than of fear. But, as I shall show later, there is reason to believe -that they are not the original type of Callicantzari. It is only by a -casual development of the superstition, that these grotesque hobgoblins -have been locally substituted for the grim and gaunt monsters feared -elsewhere. They form, as it were, a modern and expurgated edition of -the larger sort of Callicantzari, to whom I now return. - -The Callicantzari appear only during the δωδεκαήμερον or ‘period of -twelve days’ between Christmas and Epiphany[526]. The rest of the year -they live in the lower world, and occupy themselves in trying to gnaw -through or cut down the great tree (or in other accounts the one or -more columns) on which the world rests. Each Christmas they have nearly -completed their task, when the time comes for their appearance in the -upper world, and during their twelve days’ absence, the supports of the -world are made whole again. - -Even during their short visit to this world, they do not appear in the -daytime. From dawn till sunset they hide themselves in dark and dank -places--in caves or beneath mills--and there feed on such food as they -can collect, worms, snakes, frogs, tortoises, and other unclean things. -But at night they issue forth and run wildly to and fro, rending and -crushing those who cross their path. Destruction and waste, greed and -lust mark their course. Now they break into some lonely mill, terrify -and coerce the miller into showing them his store, bake for themselves -cakes thereof, befoul with urine all that they cannot use, and are -gone again. Now they pass through some hamlet, and woe to that house -which is not prepared against their coming. By chimney and door alike -they swarm in, and make havoc of the home; in sheer wanton mischief -they overturn and break all the furniture, devour the Christmas pork, -befoul all the water and wine and food which remains, and leave the -occupants half dead with fright or violence. Now it is a wine shop that -they enter, bind the publican to his chair, gag him with dung, break -open each cask in turn, drink their fill, and leave the wine running. -Now they light upon some belated wayfarer, and make sport of him as -their fancy leads them. Sometimes his fate is only to dance all night -with the Callicantzari and to be let go at cockcrow unscathed; for -these monsters despite their uncouth shape delight in dancing, and to -that end often seek the company of the Nereids; but more often men are -sorely torn and battered before they escape, and women are forcibly -carried off to be the monsters’ wives. In some accounts they even make -a meal of their human prey. - -The fact that the activities of the Callicantzari are always limited to -the night-time has given them a special claim to the name Παρωρίταις or -Νυχτοπαρωρίταις[527], formed from πάρωρα, ‘the hour before cockcrow,’ -for then it is that their excesses and depredations have reached -their zenith; but the word cannot correctly be called a by-name of -the Callicantzari, for it is also, if more rarely, applied to other -nocturnal visitants. - -The only redeeming qualities in these creatures’ characters, from the -point of view of men who fall into their clutches, are their stupidity -and their quarrelsomeness. They have indeed a chieftain who sometimes -tries to marshal and to discipline them, and who is at least wise -enough to warn them when the hour of their departure draws near. But -in general ‘the Great Callicantzaros[528],’ as he is called, or ‘the -lame demon[529],’ is too like the rest of them to be of much avail; and -indeed his place is not at the head of the riotous mob where he might -control them, but he limps along, a grotesque and usually ithyphallic -figure, in the rear. Thus in the popular stories it often happens that -either the Callicantzari go on quarrelling about the treatment of some -man or the possession of some woman whom they have captured, or else -their prisoner is shrewd enough to keep them amused, until cock-crow -brings release. For at that sound (or, to be more precise, at the -crowing of the third cock, who is black and more potent to scare away -demons than the white and red cocks who precede him[530]) they vanish -away, like all terrors of the night in ancient[531] as well as modern -times, to their dark lairs. - -The tales told by the peasants about the Callicantzari are extremely -numerous, though there is a certain sameness about the main themes. -Three types of story however are deserving of notice, to illustrate -the character of the Callicantzari and the ways in which they may be -outwitted and eluded. - -The first type may be represented by a tale told to me in Scyros in -explanation of the name of a cave some half-hour distant from the town. -Both the cave itself and that part of the path which lies just below it -are popularly called τοῦ καλλικαντζάρου τὸ ποδάρι, ‘the Callicantzaros’ -foot.’ My enquiries concerning the name elicited the following story, -which seems incidentally to explain how the Great Callicantzaros came -to be lame. - -‘Once upon the eve of Epiphany a man of Scyros was returning home -from a mill late at night, driving his mule before him laden with two -sacks of meal. When he had gone about half-way, he saw before him -some Callicantzari in his path. Realising his danger, he at once got -upon his mule and laid himself flat between the two sacks and covered -himself up with a rug, so as to look like another sack of meal. Soon -the Callicantzari were about his mule, and he held his breath and heard -them saying, “Here is a pack on this side and a pack on that side, and -the top-load in the middle, but where is the man?” So they ran back to -the mill thinking that he had loitered behind; but they could not find -him and came back after the mule, and looked again, and said, “Here is -a pack on this side and a pack on that side, and the top-load in the -middle, but where is the man?” So they ran on in front fearing that -he had hasted on home before his mule. But when they could not find -him, they returned again, and said as before, and went back a second -time towards the mill. And thus it happened many times. Now while -they were running to and fro, the mule was nearing home, and it so -happened that when the beast stopped at the door of the man’s house, -the Callicantzari were close on his track. The man therefore called -quickly to his wife and she opened the door and he entered in safety, -but the mule was left standing without. Then the Callicantzari saw how -he had tricked them, and they knocked at the door in great anger. So -the woman, fearing lest they would break in by force, promised to open -to them on condition that they should first count for her the holes in -her sieve. To this they agreed, and she let it down to them by a cord -from a window. Straightway they set to work to count, and counted round -and round the outermost circle and never got nearer to the middle; nor -could they discover how this came to pass, but only counted more and -more hurriedly, without advancing at all. Meanwhile dawn was breaking, -and so soon as the neighbours perceived the Callicantzari, they -hurried off to the priests and told them. The priests immediately set -out with censers and sprinkling-vessels in their hands, to chase the -Callicantzari away. Right through the town the monsters fled, spreading -havoc in their path and hotly pursued by the priests. At last when they -were clear of the town, one Callicantzaros began to lag behind, and by -a great exertion the foremost priest came up to him and struck him on -the hinder foot with his sprinkling vessel. At once the foot fell off, -but the Callicantzaros fled away maimed though he was. And thus the -spot came to be known as “the Callicantzaros’ foot.”’ - -This story consists of three episodes. The first, in which the driver -of the mule outwits the Callicantzari by lying flat on the animal’s -back and making himself look like a sack of meal, occurs time after -time in the popular tales with hardly any variation; indeed it often -forms in itself the _motif_ of a whole story, in which, as soon as -the man reaches his home, the cock crows and the Callicantzari flee. -The second episode in which the wife effects some delay by bargaining -with the Callicantzari that they shall count the holes in a sieve, is -also fairly common, but the difficulty which the monsters find, in -every other version of which I know, is that they dare not pronounce -the word ‘three,’ and so go on counting ‘one, two,’ ‘one, two’ till -cock-crow[532]. The third episode in which the priests chase away the -Callicantzari is not often found in current stories, but the belief -that the ἁγιασμός or ‘hallowing’ which takes place on the morning of -Epiphany is the signal for the final departure of the Callicantzari -is firmly held throughout Greece. This ceremony consists primarily in -‘blessing the waters’--whether of the sea, of rivers, of village-wells, -or, as at Athens, of the reservoir--by carrying a cross in procession -to the appointed place and throwing it in; but in many districts also -the priests afterwards fill vessels with the blest waters, and with -these and their censers make a round of the village, sprinkling and -purifying the people and their houses and cornfields and vineyards. -The fear which the Callicantzari feel of this purification is embodied -in some rough lines which they are supposed to chant as they disappear -at Twelfth-night: - - φύγετε, νὰ φύγουμε, - τ’ ἔφτασ’ ὁ τουρλόπαπας - μὲ τὴν ἁγι̯αστοῦρα του - καὶ μὲ τὴ βρεχτοῦρα του, - κι’ ἅγι̯ασε τὰ ῥέμματα - καὶ μᾶς ἐμαγάρισε[533]. - - Quick, begone! we must begone, - Here comes the pot-bellied priest, - With his censer in his hand - And his sprinkling-vessel too; - He has purified the streams - And he has polluted us. - -In the actual tales however as told by the people the intervention -of the priests is not a common episode. More often the story ends in -a rescue effected by neighbours armed with firebrands, of which the -Callicantzari go in mortal terror, or simply with the crowing of the -black cock. - -The second type of story deals with the adventures of a girl sent by -her wicked stepmother to a mill during the dangerous Twelve Days, -nominally to get some corn ground, but really in the hope that she -will fall a prey to the Callicantzari. Having arrived at the mill the -girl calls in vain to the miller to come and help unload her mule, and -entering in search of him finds him bound to his chair or dead with -fright and the Callicantzari standing about him. They at once seize the -girl, and begin to quarrel which shall have her for his own. But the -girl keeps her wits, and says that she will be the wife of the one who -brings her the best bridal array. So they disperse in search of fine -raiment and jewels. Meanwhile she sets to work to grind the corn, and -each time a Callicantzaros returns with presents, she sends him on a -fresh errand for something more. Finally the corn is all ground, and -she quickly loads the mule with two sacks, one on either side, clothes -herself in the gold and jewels which the Callicantzari have brought, -mounts the mule and lies flat on the saddle covered over with a sack, -and eluding the Callicantzari who pursue her, like the muleteer in the -previous story, reaches home in safety. - -The wicked stepmother seeing that her plans have miscarried and that -her stepdaughter is now rich while her own daughter is poor, determines -to send the latter the next evening to the mill. She too finds the -mill occupied by the Callicantzari, but not being so shrewd as her -half-sister either falls a victim to the lust of the monsters, or is -killed and eaten by them, or, in one version[534], is stripped of her -own clothes, dressed in the skin of her mule which the Callicantzari -have killed and flayed, and sent home with a necklace of the mule’s -entrails about her neck. - -The third type of story, one which is known all over Greece, introduces -us to the domestic circle of a Callicantzaros. A midwife is roused -one night during the Twelve Days by a furious rapping at her door, -and, imagining that the call is urgent, slips on her clothes in haste -without enquiring who it is that needs her services, and stepping out -of her door finds herself face to face either with an unmistakeable -Callicantzaros who seizes her and carries her off, or else with a man -unknown to her who subsequently proves to be a Callicantzaros[535]. -On their way to his home he bids her see to it that the child with -which his wife is about to present him be male; in that case he will -reward her handsomely; but if a female child be born, he will devour -the midwife. Arrived at the cave or house where the Callicantzaros -dwells, the midwife goes about her task, and the Callicantzaros’ -wife is soon delivered of a child; but to the midwife’s horror it is -female. Her wits however do not desert her, and she quickly devises a -scheme for her escape. Taking a candle, she warms it and fashions from -the wax a model of the male organs and fastens it to the child. Then -calling the Callicantzaros, she tells him that a fine male child is -born and holds up the infant for him to see. Thereat he is content and -bids her swaddle it. This done, she craves leave to go home, and the -Callicantzaros, true to his word, rewards her with a sack of gold and -lets her go. - -The conclusion of the story varies. In some versions, the fraud is -discovered before the midwife reaches her home, the Callicantzaros -curses the gold which he has given her, and when she opens her sack she -finds nothing but ashes. In others, she reaches home in safety with -the gold and by magic means breaks the power of the Callicantzaros -over his gift; and when he arrives at her door in hot pursuit, she has -already taken all precautions against his entrance and lies secure and -silent within. - -The wife of the Callicantzaros here mentioned is in some stories -pictured as being of the same monstrous species as himself, in others -as an ordinary woman whom he has seized and carried off. But, apart -from these stories in which she is a necessary _persona dramatis_, -she has no hold upon the popular imagination. A feminine word, -καλλικαντζαρίνα or καλλικαντζαροῦ, has been formed in this case just -as the word νεραΐδης[536] has been formed as masculine of Nereid -(νεράϊδα), and female Callicantzari are as rare and local as male -Nereids. Their existence is assumed only as complementary to that of -their mates. - -Security from the Callicantzari is sought by many methods, some of -them Christian in character, others magical or pagan. Foremost among -Christian precautions is the custom of marking a cross in black upon -the house-door on Christmas Eve; and the same emblem is sometimes -painted upon the various jars and vessels in which food is kept to -ensure them against befouling by the Callicantzari, and even upon the -forehead of infants, especially if they are unbaptised, to prevent them -from being stolen or strangled[537] by the monsters. If in spite of -these precautions the inmates of any house are troubled by them, the -burning of incense is accounted an effectual safeguard. For out-door -use, if a man is unfortunate enough to encounter Callicantzari, an -invocation of the Trinity or the recitation of three Paternosters is -recommended. - -But precautions of a more pagan character are often preferred to these -or combined with them. Ordinary prudence demands that the fire be kept -burning through all the Twelve Days, to prevent the Callicantzari -entering by the chimney, and the usual custom is to set one huge -log on end up the chimney, to go on burning for the whole period. -In addition to this a fire is sometimes kept burning at night close -by the house-door. Certain herbs also, such as ground-thistle[538], -hyssop, and asparagus[539], may be suspended at the door or the -chimney-place, as magical charms. If even then there is reason to -suspect that Callicantzari are prowling round the house, the golden -rule is to observe strict silence and, above all, not to answer any -question asked from without the door; for it is commonly believed that -the Callicantzari, like the Nereids, can deprive of speech any who -have once talked with them. At the same time it is wise to make up the -fire, throwing on either something which will crackle like salt or -heather[540], or something which will smell strong, such as a bit of -leather, an old shoe, wild-cherry wood[541], or ground-thistle; for -the stench of these is as unbearable to the Callicantzari as that of -incense. - -Such at any rate is the current explanation of the purpose of these -malodorous combustibles; but in view of the notorious gullibility of -the Callicantzari I am tempted to surmise that both the crackling and -the smell were originally intended to pacify them for a while with -the delusive hope that a share of the Christmas pork, their favourite -food, was being prepared for them. For certainly even now propitiatory -presents to the Callicantzari are not unknown. At Portariá and other -villages of Mount Pelion it is the custom to hang a rib or other bone -from the pork inside the chimney ‘for the Callicantzari,’ but whether -as a means of appeasement or of aversion the people seem no longer to -know: in Samos however the first sweetmeats made at the New Year are -placed in the chimney avowedly as food for the Callicantzari[542], and -in Cyprus waffles and sausages are put in the same place as a farewell -feast to them on the Eve of Epiphany[543]. Moreover in earlier times -the custom of appeasing them with food was undoubtedly more widespread; -for in places where, so far as I know, the custom itself no longer -exists, a few lines supposed to be sung by the Callicantzari on the -eve of their departure are still remembered, in which they ask for ‘a -little bit of sausage, a morsel of waffle, that the Callicantzari may -eat and depart to their own place[544].’ - -But propitiation of the Callicantzari, in spite of this evidence of -offerings made to them, is certainly not now so much in vogue as -precautions against them; and it is perhaps simpler to suppose that -the choice of crackling or odorous fuel was originally prompted by the -intention of conveying to the Callicantzari a plain warning that the -fire within the house was burning briskly; for apart from the Christian -means of defence--crosses, incense, invocations and the general -purification on the morning of Epiphany--it may be said that the one -thing which they really fear is fire. Everywhere it is held that so -long as a good fire is kept burning on the hearth the Callicantzari -cannot gain access to the house by their favourite entrance; and that -the utmost they will venture is to vent their urine down the chimney -in the hope of extinguishing the fire. For this reason the wood-ashes -from the hearth, which are generally stored up and used in the washing -of clothes, are during the Twelve Days left untouched, and after the -purification at Epiphany are carried out of the house; but in some -districts[545], though the ashes are not thought suitable for ordinary -use, they are not thrown away as worthless impurities, but, owing I -suppose to their contact with supernatural beings, are held to be -endowed with magically fertilising properties and are sprinkled over -the very same fields and gardens which the priests have sprinkled with -holy water. Again there are not a few stories current[546] in which -a Callicantzaros, attracted to some house at Christmas-tide by the -smell of roasting pork, has been put to rout by having the hot joint -or the spit on which it was turning thrust in his face. In one version -also of the song which the Callicantzari are supposed to sing as they -depart, ‘the pot-bellied priest with censer and sprinkling-vessel’ is -accompanied by his wife carrying hot water to scald them[547]. In other -stories again the rescue of a man from the clutches of Callicantzari is -effected by his neighbours with fire-brands as their only weapons; and -where such help cannot be obtained, a man may sometimes free himself -merely by ejaculating ξύλα, κούτσουρα, δαυλιὰ καμμένα, ‘sticks, logs, -and brands ablaze!’ for the very thought of fire will sometimes scare -the monsters away. - -Other safeguards are also mentioned; you are recommended for instance -to keep a black cock in the house, or you may render the Callicantzaros -harmless by binding him with a red thread or a straw rope[548]; but the -latter method would in most cases be like putting salt on a bird’s tail. - -Such, on a general view, are the monsters whose origin I now propose -to examine; and the first step in the investigation must be to -account for the extraordinary variations in shape exhibited by the -Callicantzari in different districts. - -I have already observed that the Callicantzari are sometimes conceived -to be of ordinary human form, but that more commonly there is an -admixture of something beast-like. Among the animals which are -laid under contribution, first comes the he-goat, from which the -Callicantzari borrow ears, horns, and legs. Almost equally common is -a presentment of Callicantzari with the ears and the legs of an ass -combined with a body in other respects human; or again the head of an -ass, according to Pouqueville[549], may be combined with the body and -legs of a man. In other districts again the wolf has once been a factor -in the conception of Callicantzari. Thus in Messenia, in Cynouria -(a district in the east of Laconia), and in parts of Crete[550] the -Callicantzari are called also Λυκοκάντζαροι, in which the first half of -the compound name is undoubtedly λύκος, ‘wolf.’ Similarly in some parts -of Macedonia Callicantzari are often called simply ‘wolves’ (λύκοι), -and both names are also applied metaphorically to any particularly -ill-favoured man[551]. Resemblances to apes are also mentioned, -particularly in the long, lean, hairy arms of the Callicantzari; -and Pouqueville speaks also of their monkey-like tails[552]. Next -from Phoeniciá in Epirus comes the suggestion that Callicantzari may -resemble squirrels; for there they have the two by-names σκιορίσματα -and καψιούρηδες[553], in which it is not hard to recognise the two -ancient Greek names for the squirrel, σκίουρος and καμψίουρος. -Concerning the local character of these I have no information; but -it is fairly safe to surmise that they possess the power, commonly -ascribed to the smaller sort of Callicantzari, of climbing with great -dexterity the walls and roofs of houses in order to gain access by the -chimney. Finally in Myconos, as noted above, the Callicantzari are -described as ‘savage four-footed things’--a description which need -not exclude some human attributes any more than it does in the savage -four-footed Centaurs of ancient art, but implies it would seem at -least a predominance of the bestial over the human element. - -What then is the explanation of these wide divergences of type? -The answer is really very simple and final. The Callicantzari were -originally believed to possess the power, which many supernatural -beings share, of transforming themselves at their pleasure into -any shape. The shapes most commonly assumed differed in different -districts, and gradually, as the belief in the metamorphosis of -Callicantzari here, there, and almost everywhere was forgotten, what -had once been the commonest form locally assumed by Callicantzari -became in the several districts their fixed and only form. - -The correctness of this explanation was first proved to me by -information obtained from the best source for all manner of stories -and traditions about the Callicantzari, the villages on Mount Pelion. -There I was definitely told that the Callicantzari are believed to -have the power of assuming any monstrous shape which they choose; -and the accuracy of this statement is, I find, now confirmed by -information obtained independently by Prof. Polites[554] from one of -these same villages, Portariá; he adds that there the shapes most -frequently affected by Callicantzari are those of women, bearded men, -and he-goats. Further evidence of the same belief existing also in -Cyprus is adduced by the same writer. ‘The Planetari (πλανήταροι),’ so -runs the popular tradition which he quotes from a work which I have -been unable to consult, ‘who are also called in some parts of Cyprus -Callicantzari, come to the earth at Christmas and remain all the Twelve -Days. They are seen by persons who are ἀλαφροστοίχει̯ωτοι[555] (i.e., -to give the nearest equivalent, ‘fey’). Sometimes they appear as dogs, -sometimes as hares, sometimes as donkeys or as camels, and often as -bobbins. Men who are ‘fey’ stumble over them, and stoop down to pick -them up, when suddenly the bobbin rolls along of its own accord and -escapes them. Further on it turns into a donkey or camel and goes on -its way. The man is deceived (by its appearance) and mounts it, and -the donkey grows as tall as a mountain and throws the man down from a -great height[556], and he returns home half-dead, and if he does not -die outright, he will be an invalid all his life[557].’ - -Linguistic evidence is also forthcoming that the same belief in the -metamorphosis of these monsters was once held both in Epirus and in -Samos. The by-name σκιορίσματα, recorded from Phoeniciá, proves more -than the squirrel-form of Callicantzari; it implies that that shape -is not natural but assumed. From the ancient word σκίουρος, comes -by natural formation an hypothetical verb σκιουρίζω, ‘I become a -squirrel,’ and thence the existing substantive σκιούρισμα or σκιόρισμα -(for this difference in vocalisation is negligible in modern Greek) -meaning ‘that which has turned into a squirrel.’ Similarly in Samos the -by-name κακανθρωπίσματα means ‘those that have turned into evil men.’ -Whether the belief implied by these names is still alive in Epirus, -I do not know; in Samos it has apparently died out, for the word -κακανθρωπίσματα is popularly there interpreted to mean ‘those who do -evil to men[558]’--a meaning which the formation really precludes. - -Since then the belief that Callicantzari possess the power of -metamorphosis either obtains now or has once obtained in places as far -removed from one another as Phoeniciá in Epirus, Mount Pelion, Samos, -and Cyprus, it is reasonable to conclude that this quality was in -earlier times universally attributed to them, and therewith the whole -problem of their multifarious presentments in different districts is at -once solved. - -The next question which arises is this; if the various forms in -which the Callicantzari are locally represented are, so to speak, so -many disguises assumed by them at their own will, what is the normal -form of the Callicantzaros when he is not exercising his power of -self-transformation? On reviewing the various shapes assumed, one fact -stands out clearly; it is the animal attributes of the Callicantzari -which are variable, while the human element in their composition -(with a possible exception in the case of the ‘savage quadrupeds’ -of Myconos) is constant. But the variation of form results, as has -been shown, from the power of transformation. Therefore the animal -characteristics, which are variable, are the characteristics assumed -at pleasure by the Callicantzari, and the constant or human element -in their composition indicates their normal form. In other words, the -Callicantzaros in his original and natural shape was anthropomorphic, -as indeed he is sometimes still represented to be. - -And here too, while the various types of Callicantzari are still before -us, it is worth while to notice, at the cost of a short digression, -a curious principle which seems to govern the representation of -Callicantzari in those districts in which the belief in their power -of metamorphosis has been lost. On Mount Pelion and in Cyprus the -shapes which the Callicantzari are said to assume at will are those of -known and familiar objects--in the former place of women, bearded men, -and he-goats, in the latter of dogs, hares, donkeys, and camels--but -always complete and single shapes whether of man or beast; on the other -hand in the large majority of places in which the remembrance of this -power of transformation is lost, the Callicantzari are represented in -fanciful and abnormal shapes--hybrids as it were between men and such -animals as goat, ass, or ape. What appears to have happened in these -cases is that, as the belief in the metamorphosis of Callicantzari -was lost from the local folklore, a sort of compensation was made by -depicting them arrested in the process of transformation, arrested -halfway in the transition from man to beast. Now there are very few -parts of Greece in which this change in the superstition has not taken -place; and each island of the Greek seas, each district of the Greek -mainland--I had almost said each village, for the folklore like the -dialect of two villages no more than an hour’s journey apart may differ -widely--may be fairly considered to furnish separate instances on which -a general principle can be founded. The law then which seems to me to -have governed the evolution of Greek folklore is this, that a being of -some single, normal, and known shape who has originally been believed -capable of transforming himself into one or more other single, normal, -and known shapes, comes to be represented, when the belief in his power -of transformation dies out, as a being of composite, abnormal, and -fantastic shape, combining incongruous features of the several single, -normal, and known shapes. - -How wide may be the application of this principle, I cannot pretend -to determine; but obviously it may supply the solution of certain -puzzles in ancient Greek mythology. The goddess Athene, to take -but one instance, is in Homer regularly described as γλαυκῶπις, an -epithet which, though interpreted by ancient artists in the sense of -‘blue-eyed’ or ‘gray-eyed,’ seems, in view of Athene’s connexion with -the owl, to have meant originally ‘owl-faced’; for the sake of argument -at any rate, without entering into the controversy on the subject, let -me assume this; let it be granted that the goddess was once depicted as -a maiden with an owl’s face. How is this hybrid form to be explained? -If our principle holds here, the explanation is that in a still earlier -stage of Greek mythology the goddess Athene was wont to transform -herself into an owl and so manifest herself to her worshippers, just as -in early Christian tradition it is recorded that once ‘the Holy Ghost -descended in a bodily shape like a dove[559].’ - -But this digression is long enough. Later in this chapter I shall have -occasion to return to the principle which has been formulated. At -present the Callicantzari are calling. - -Thus far our investigation has shown us that the Callicantzari were -originally anthropomorphic, possessing indeed and exercising the power -of transmutation into beast-form, but in their natural and normal form -completely human in appearance. What therefore remains to be determined -is whether these beings were anthropomorphic demons or simply men. - -On this point there is a direct conflict of evidence at the present -day. The very common tradition that the Callicantzari come from the -lower world at Christmas and are driven back there by the purification -at Epiphany; the fact that they are often mentioned under the vague -names παγανά and ξωτικά which have already been discussed[560], and -that their leader is sometimes called ὁ κουτσοδαίμονας, ‘the halting -demon’; the belief that they are fond of dancing with the Nereids, -and sometimes exercise also a power, proper to the Nereids, of taking -away the speech of those who speak in their presence; these and other -such considerations might be thought abundantly to prove that the -Callicantzari were a species of demon. - -But on the other hand there is equally abundant evidence of the -belief that Callicantzari are men who are seized with a kind of -bestial madness which often effects a beast-like alteration in their -appearance. This madness is not chronic, but recurrent with each -returning Christmas, and the victim of it displays for the time being -all the savage and lustful passions of a wild animal. The mountaineers -of South Euboea for example have acquired the reputation of being -Callicantzari and are much feared by the dwellers on the coast. - -A remarkable feature in this form of the superstition is the idea that -the madness is congenital. Children born on Christmas-day, or according -to some accounts on any day between Christmas and Epiphany, are deemed -likely to become Callicantzari. This, it is naively said, is the due -punishment for the sin of a mother who has presumed to conceive and to -bring forth at seasons sacred to the Mother of God; whence also the -children are called ἑορτοπιάσματα or ‘feast-stricken.’ In Chios, in the -seventeenth century, this superstition was so strong that extraordinary -methods of barbarism were adopted to render such children harmless. -They were taken, says Leo Allatius[561], to a fire which had been -lighted in the market-place, and there the soles of their feet were -exposed to the heat until the nails were singed and the danger of their -attacks obviated. A modern and modified form of this treatment is to -place the child in an oven and to light a fire outside to frighten -it, and then to ask the question, ‘Bread or meat?’ If the child says -‘bread,’ all is well; but if he says ‘meat,’ he is believed to be -possessed by a savage craving for human flesh, and the treatment is -continued till he answers ‘bread[562].’ - -These infant Callicantzari are particularly prone, it is said, to -attack and kill their own brothers and sisters. Hence comes the by-name -by which they are sometimes known, ἀδερφοφᾶδες, ‘brother-eaters,’ as -also, according to Polites’ interpretation, the name κάηδες, which -is an equivalent for Callicantzari in several islands of the Aegean -Sea. This word Polites holds to be the plural of the name Cain, and to -denote ‘brother-slayers’; but inasmuch as a longer form καϊμπίλιδες -appears side by side with κάηδες in Carpathos[563], I hesitate to -accept this interpretation of the one while the other remains to me -wholly unintelligible. At any rate to the people themselves the word -has ceased to convey any idea of murderous propensities; for in the -island of Syme, where the name is in use, the beings denoted by it are -held to be harmless[564]. - -The issue before us is well summarised in two popular traditions -which Polites adduces from Oenoë and from Tenos, and which are in -clear mutual contradiction. The tradition of Oenoë begins thus: -‘“Leave-us-good-sirs” (Ἀς-ἐμᾶς-καλοί) is the name which we give them -(the Callicantzari), though they are really evil demons (ξωτικά).’ The -tradition of Tenos opens with the words: ‘The Callicantzari are not -demons (ζωτ’κά)[565]; they are men; as New Year’s Day approaches, they -are stricken with a fit of madness and leave their houses and wander -to and fro.’ How are we to decide which of these two traditions is the -older? - -The evidence in favour of either is at the present day abundant; -the two chief authorities on the subject, Schmidt and Polites, both -acknowledge this; and, in my own experience, I should have difficulty -in saying which view of the Callicantzari I have the more frequently -heard expressed. On the mainland they are most commonly demons; in the -islands of the Aegean, more usually human. But in a matter of this kind -it would be of no value to count heads; even if the whole population of -Greece could be polled on the question, the view of the majority would -have no more value than that of the minority. The issue must be decided -on other than numerical grounds. - -And clearly the first consideration which suggests itself must be the -nature of the earliest evidence on the subject. The earliest authority -then is Leo Allatius[566], and his statement is in brief as follows. -Children born in the octave of Christmas are seized with a kind of -madness; they rage to and fro with incredible swiftness; and their -nails grow sharp like talons. To any wayfarer whom they meet they put -the question ‘Tow or lead?’ If he answer ‘tow,’ he escapes unhurt; if -he answer ‘lead,’ they crush him with all their power and leave him -half-dead, lacerated by their talons. - -Thus far the testimony of Leo Allatius distinctly favours the belief -that Callicantzari are human and not demoniacal in origin; but at the -same time it must be admitted that his statement was probably founded -upon the particular traditions of his native island only and carries -therefore less weight. The barbarous custom however which he next -proceeds to describe is of some importance. He states that children -born during the dangerous period between Christmas and New Year had -the soles of their feet scorched until the nails were singed and so -they could not become Callicantzari. Now there is a small but obvious -inconsistency in this statement. Persons who scratch one another use, -presumably, not their toe-nails but their finger-nails; and animals -likewise employ the fore feet and not the hind feet. To scorch the feet -therefore, and particularly the soles of the feet, is not a logical -method of preventing the growth of talons. But on the other hand the -treatment adopted might well be supposed to prevent the development -of hoofs, such as in many parts of Greece the Callicantzari are still -believed to have. In other words, the custom which Leo Allatius -describes was not properly understood in his time. But a custom -which has ceased to be properly understood and has had an inaccurate -interpretation set upon it is necessarily of considerable age. Already -therefore in the first half of the seventeenth century the custom which -Allatius describes was of some antiquity; and the belief that children -turn into Callicantzari, which is implied alike by the original meaning -and by the later interpretation of the custom, was equally ancient. In -Chios then at any rate the human origin of Callicantzari is a very old -article of faith. - -But more important for our consideration is the answer to be made to -the following question; is it more probable, that Callicantzari, if -they were originally demons, should have come in the belief of many -people to be men, or that, being originally men, they should have -assumed in the belief of many people the rank of demons? Here, if I may -trust the analogy of other instances in Greek folklore, my answer is -decided. I know of no case in which a demon has lost status and been -reduced to human rank; but I can name three several cases in which -beings originally human have been elevated to the standing of demons. -The human maiden Gello was the prototype of the class of female demons -now known as Gelloudes. Striges (στρίγγλαις) are properly old women -who by magical means can transform themselves into birds, but they too -both in mediaeval and in modern times are frequently confused with -demons. ‘Arabs’ (Ἀράπηδες), as the name itself implies, were originally -nothing but men of colour, but they now form, as will be shown in -the next section, a recognised class of _genii_. And if we turn from -modern Greek folklore to ancient Greek religion, there also we find the -tendency in the same direction. There men in plenty are elevated to the -rank of hero, demon, or god, but the degradation of a demon to human -rank is a thing unknown. In view of this strongly marked principle of -Greek superstition or religion, it is impossible to come to any other -conclusion than that the Callicantzari were originally not demons but -men--men who either voluntarily or under the compulsion of a kind of -madness chose or were forced to assume the shape and the character of -beasts. - -Having thus disposed of the problem presented by the various types -of Callicantzari, we must next investigate the origin of the name -itself. This investigation too is not a little complicated by the -fact that the dialectic varieties of the name are fully as manifold -and divergent as the various shapes which the monsters are locally -believed to assume. There can be few words in the Greek language which -better illustrate the difference in speech between one district and -another. The most general form of the word, and one which is either -used side by side with other dialectic forms or at least is understood -in almost every district, is the form which I have used throughout this -chapter καλλικάντζαρος or, to transliterate it, Callicantzaros; but in -reviewing all the dialectic varieties of the word, I find that there -are only two out of the fourteen letters composing this word, which do -not, in one dialect or another, suffer either modification of sound or -change of position. The consonant κ in the first syllable and the vowel -α in the third are the only constant and uniform elements common to -all dialects. - -These dialectic forms demand consideration for the reason that some of -the derivations proposed take as their starting-point not the common -form καλλικάντζαρος but one of the rarer by-forms--a method which is -evidently open to objection when it is seen, as the accompanying table -of forms will show, that καλλικάντζαρος, besides being the common -and normal form, is also the centre from which all the dialectic -varieties radiate in different directions. In compiling my list of -forms, however, I may abbreviate it by the omission of those which are -a matter of calligraphic rather than of phonetic distinction. Thus -the first two syllables of καλλικάντζαρος are often written καλι- or -καλη-, but since ι and η represent exactly the same sound and λλ is -very seldom distinguished from λ, I have uniformly written καλλι- even -where my authority for the particular form uses some other spelling. -On the other hand, as regards the use of τζ or τσ, between which there -is a real if somewhat subtle difference in sound, I have retained the -particular form which I have found recorded. - -Starting then from the normal form καλ-λι-κάν-τζα-ρος, which I thus -dismember for convenience of reference to its five syllables, I may -classify the changes which the word undergoes in various dialects as -follows: - -(1) The insertion of α in the second syllable, giving λι̯α in the place -of λι. - -(2) The prefixing of σ to the first syllable, giving σκαλ for καλ. With -this Bernhard Schmidt well compares the modern σκόνη for κόνις, and -σκύφτω for κύπτω. - -(3) The complete suppression of the second syllable, or the retention -of the ι only as a faintly pronounced y. - -(4) Combined with, and consequent upon, the suppression of the -second syllable, the change of λ to ρ in the first syllable, or the -interchange of the λ in the first syllable with the ρ in the fifth. - -(5) The loss of either ν in the third syllable or τ in the fourth. - -(6) The change of the α in the first syllable to ο. - -(7) The change of the α in the third syllable to ε, ι, ο, or ου. -Instances of this are most frequent in combination with the changes -under (4). - -(8) The interchange of the κ in the third syllable with the τζ (or τσ) -in the fourth. The νκ thus produced becomes γγ. - -(9) The formation of diminutive neuter forms ending in -ι instead of -the masculine forms in -ος, with the consequent shift of accent from -the third to the fourth syllable, the -ι representing -ιον. These -neuter forms occur chiefly in the plural. - -Further it may be noted that the formation of the nominative plural of -the masculine forms shows some variation; the ordinary form is in -οι -with the accent on the antepenultimate as in the nominative singular; -a second form has the same termination but with the accent shifted to -the penultimate, as commonly happens in some dialects with words of the -second declension (e.g. ἄνθρωπος with plural ἀνθρώποι) by assimilation -to the other cases of the plural; while a third form has the anomalous -termination -αῖοι (e.g. in Cephallenia, σκαλλικάντσαρος with plural -σκαλλικαντσαραῖοι). - -The following genealogical table exhibits the dialectic progeny of the -normal form καλλικάντζαρος. The numeral or numerals placed against each -form refer to the classification of phonetic changes as above. Beneath -each form is noted the name of one place or district (though of course -there are usually more) in which it may be heard, or, failing the -_provenance_, the authority for its existence. - - καλλικάντζαρος - (with which καλλικάντσαρος and καλλικάντσι̯αρος (Cythnos and Melos) may be considered identical) - | - +--------------------+--------------+--------------------+------------------+-------------------------+--------------+ - | | | | | | | - καλλιακάντζαρος (1) καλλικάτζαρος (5) καλλικάνζαρος (5) σκαλλικάντζαρος (2) καλι̯κάντζαρος (3) κολλικάντζαρος (6) καλλιτσάγγαρος (8) - (Πολίτης, Μελέτη, (Cyprus) (Cythera) (Ionian Islands) and καλκάντζαρος (3) (Gortynia and (Pyrgos in Tenos - p. 67) | (Lesbos, etc.) Cynouria, districts and Western shores - | | of the Peloponnese) of Black Sea) - +---------------------+-------------------+--------------+ | | | - | | | | κολλικάτζαρος (6, 5) | - σκαλλικαντζούρια (τὰ) σκαλκαντσέρι (τὸ) σκαλκάντζερος | (Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, | - (2, 7, 9) (Sciathos) (2, 3, 7, 9) (2, 3, 7) | II. p 1245) | - (Arachova on (Arachova on | | - Parnassus) Parnassus) | +------------------+-----+ - | | | - | καλσάγγαροι καρτσάγγαλοι (8, 4) - +----------------------+-------------------------+----------+ (8, 3, 5) (Oenoë on S. shore - | | | (Tenos) of Black Sea) - καρκάντσαλος (4) καλκάντσερος (3, 7) καρκάντζαρος (4) - (Stenimachos in (Arachova on (Scyros) - Roumelia) Parnassus) - | - +----------------+----------+-------------------------+ - | | | - καρκάντζελος (4, 7) καρκάντσιλος (4, 7) καρκάντζολος (4, 7) - (Zagorion in (Ophis, on S. shore (Cythnos) - Epirus) of Black Sea) | - | _Albanian_ - καρκαντσέλια (τὰ) καρκανdσόλ-ι - (4, 7, 9) (cf. Hahn, _Alban. Stud._, - (Portariá on Vocabulary, s.v.) - M^t Pelion) and - _Turkish - karakóndjolos_ - -This table of dialectic forms, which was originally based mainly -upon the information of Schmidt[567] and my own observations and has -now been enlarged with the aid of Polites’ new work[568], is even so -probably far from complete; nor have I included in it, for reasons to -be stated, the following forms: καλκάνια[569] (τὰ) which is apparently -an abbreviated diminutive formed from the first two syllables of -καλκάν-τζαρος with a neuter termination, and is therefore a nickname -rather than a strict derivative: καλκαγάροι which Bent[570] represents -to be the usual form in Naxos and Paros, but I hesitate to accept -without confirmation from some other source: σκατσάντζαροι[571], a -Macedonian form, and καλκατζόνια, a diminutive form from the district -of Cynouria, both so extraordinarily corrupt that I can find no place -for them in the table: λυκοκάντζαροι, which has been thought to be -κολλικάντζαρος with the first two syllables reversed in order--a change -to which I can find no parallel--but is, as I shall show later, a -distinct and very important compound of the word κάντζαρος: and lastly -καλι̯οντζῆδες[572] which has nothing at all to do with καλλικάντζαροι -etymologically, but is an euphemistic and not particularly good pun -upon it, really meaning the ‘sailors of a galleon[573]’ (Turkish -_qālioundji_), and humorously substituted for the dreaded name of the -Callicantzari. - -To conclude this compilation, it must be added that the wives of -Callicantzari are denoted by feminine forms with the termination -ίνα -or -οῦ, and their children by neuter forms ending in -άκι or -οῦδι in -place of the masculine -ος. - -From a careful analysis of this material two main facts seem to emerge. -First, the form καλλικάντζαρος, the commonest in use, is also the -centre from which the other dialectic forms diverge in many directions; -and therefore if one of the rarer dialectic forms be selected as -the parent-form and the basis of any etymological explanation, the -advocate of the particular etymology not only assumes the burden of -showing how his original form came to be so generally superseded by -the form καλλικάντζαρος, but also will require many more steps in his -genealogical table of existing varieties of the word. Secondly, the -words καλλικάντζαρος and λυκοκάντζαρος (if, as I hold, they cannot -be connected through the mediation of the form κολλικάντζαρος) show -that we have to deal with a compound word of which the second half is -κάντζαρος: and corroboration of this view is afforded by the existence -of a form of the uncompounded word in the dialect of Cynouria, where -σκατζάρια[574] (τὰ)--i.e. a diminutive form of κάντζαρος with σ -prefixed and ν lost--is used side by side with the words καλλικάντζαροι -and λυκοκάντζαροι to denote the same beings. - -In view of the latter inference, or perhaps even apart from it, there -is no need to delay long over a derivation propounded by a Greek -writer, Oeconomos, whose theory, that ‘callicantzaros’ is a corruption -of the Latin ‘caligatus’ or perhaps of ‘calcatura,’ suggests a vision -of a monster in hob-nailed boots which does more credit to its author’s -imagination than to his knowledge of philology. - -A suggestion which deserves at any rate more serious consideration is -that of Bernhard Schmidt[575] who holds that the word is of Turkish -origin and passed first into Albanian and thence into Greek--reversing, -that is, the steps indicated in the above table. But to this there -are several objections, each weighty in itself, and cumulatively -overwhelming. - -First, if the Turkish word _karakondjolos_ be the source from which the -multitude of Greek forms, including in that case λυκοκάντζαρος[576] -are derived, it ought to be shown how the Turkish word itself came to -mean anything like ‘were-wolf[577].’ It is compounded, says Schmidt, of -_kara_, ‘black,’ and _kondjolos_ which is connected with _koundjul_, -a word which means a ‘slave of the lowest kind[578].’ But before that -derivation can be accepted, it should be shown what link in thought may -exist between a slave even of the lowest and blackest variety and a -were-wolf, and also how the supposed Turkish compound came to have the -Greek termination -ος. - -Secondly, the theory that the Greeks borrowed the word, and presumably -also the notion which it expressed, from the Turks contravenes -historical probability. For when did the supposed borrowing take -place? Evidently not before the Ottoman influence had made itself -thoroughly felt in Eastern Europe not only in war but in peace; for -only those peoples who are living side by side in friendly, or at -the least pacific, relations, are in a way to exchange views on the -subject of were-wolves or any other superstitions; and in the case of -the Greeks and the Turks such intercourse would certainly have been -retarded by religious as well as racial animosity. Presumably then, -even if the transference of the word from the Turkish to the Greek -language had been direct and not, as Schmidt somewhat unnecessarily -supposes, through the medium of Albanian, two or three generations -must have elapsed after the Ottoman occupation of Chios in 1566[579], -and the seventeenth century must have well begun, before the Greeks of -that island even began to adopt the new word and the new superstition -involved in it. Yet the form of the word familiar to Leo Allatius -since the beginning of that century, when he lived as a boy in Chios, -was not _karakondjolos_ or anything like it, but _callicantzaros_; -while the belief that children born in the octave of Christmas became -Callicantzari was of such antiquity in Chios that a custom founded -upon it had already come, as I have shown, to be misinterpreted. -Indeed, as the same writer tells us, the Callicantzari and their -haunts and habits were so familiar to the people of Chios that two -proverbs of the island referred to them. One, which was addressed to -persons always appearing in the same clothes--βάλλε τίποτε καινούριο -ἀπάνω σου διὰ τοὺς καλλικαντζάρους, ‘put on something new because of -the Callicantzari’--is more than a little obscure; it would seem to -imply that the clothes which were being worn would hardly be worth -the while even of the mischief-loving Callicantzari to tear; but in -any case the very existence of an obscure proverb is evidence that -the Callicantzaros and all his ways had long been a matter of common -knowledge. The second saying--ἐκατέβης ἀπὸ τὰ τριποτάματα, ‘You have -come down from the Three Streams,’ or in another version, δὲν πᾶς ’στα -τριποτάματα; ‘Why not go to the Three Streams?’--was addressed to mad -persons, because, as Allatius explains, ‘the Three Streams’ was a -wild wooded place in Chios reputed to be the haunt of Callicantzari. -Historically then the theory that the people of Chios borrowed from the -Turks the name and the conception of the Callicantzari is untenable. - -Another piece of historical evidence against Schmidt’s theory is -that the Callicantzaros of the present day appears to be identical -with the ‘baboutzicarios’ whereof Michael Psellus[580] discoursed in -the eleventh century. He himself indeed, with his usual passion for -explaining away popular superstitions, affirms that ‘baboutzicarios’ -is the same as ‘ephialtes,’ the demon who punishes gluttony with -nocturnal discomfort and a feeling of oppression; and in that view he -was followed by Suidas[581] and other lexicographers; but he states -two important points in the popular superstition which he combats: the -‘baboutzicarios’ appears only in the octave of Christmas; and it is at -night that he meets and terrifies men. Moreover the name itself is, I -suspect, derived from the Low-Latin _babuztus_[582] meaning ‘mad,’ and -indicates the existence then of the belief which is so largely held -to-day, that the monstrous apparitions of Christmastide are really men -smitten with a peculiar kind of madness. Thus all the information which -Psellus gives about the ‘baboutzicarios’ tallies with modern beliefs -concerning the Callicantzaros, and militates against the supposition -that the Greeks are indebted for this superstition to the Turks. - -Finally there is positive evidence that the Turks borrowed the word -in question from the Greeks; for the time at which they used to fear -the advent of the _karakondjolos_--whether the superstition still -remains the same, I do not know--was fixed not by their own calendar -but by that of the Christians. An article written on the subject of the -Turkish calendar early in last century contains this statement: ‘The -Turks have received this fabulous belief from the Greeks, and they say -that this demon, whom the former call Kara Kondjolos and the latter -Cali Cangheros, exercises his sway of maleficence and mischief from -Christmas-day until that of the Epiphany[583].’ Clearly the Turks would -not have fixed the time for the appearance of the _karakondjolos_ by -the Christian festivals if they had not borrowed the whole superstition -from the Greeks; and indeed the very termination in -ος of the Turkish -form of the word betrays its Hellenic origin. - -The proposed Turkish derivation of the word καλλικάντζαρος must -therefore be rejected as finally as Oeconomos’ Latin derivation, and it -remains only to deal with those which treat the word as genuinely Greek. - -The first of these is that proposed by Coraës[584], who made the word -a compound of καλός and κάνθαρος. The formation, as might be expected -of so great a scholar, is irreproachable; for the phonetic change of -θ to τζ; is seen in the development of the modern word καντζόχοιρος -(a hedgehog) from the ancient ἀκανθόχοιρος. But the meaning obtained -is less satisfactory. What has a ‘good’ or ‘beautiful beetle’ to do -with a Callicantzaros such as I have described? The question remains -without an answer. And yet some of Coraës’ followers in recent times -have thought triumphantly to vindicate his view by pointing out that in -the dialect of Thessaly ‘a species of large horned beetle’ is known as -καλλικάτζαροι. Now I am aware that elsewhere in Greece stag-beetles are -called κατζαρίδες, which is undoubtedly a modern form of the ancient -κάνθαρος and illustrates once more the phonetic change involved in -Coraës’ derivation; and I can believe that the Thessalian peasantry -with a certain rustic humour sometimes call them καλλικάτζαροι instead. -But what light does this throw on the supposed development of meaning? -The view which these disciples of Coraës appear to hold, namely that -the Callicantzari, who are known and feared throughout Greek lands and -even beyond them in Turkey and in Albania, were called after an alleged -Thessalian species of Coleoptera, would be fitly matched by a theory -that the Devil was so named after a species of fish or a printer’s -assistant or a patent fire-lighter. - -The same objection holds good as against Polites’ first view[585]. -Taking the word λυκοκάντζαρος as his starting-point, instead of the -common and central form καλλικάντζαρος, he proposed to derive the word -from λύκος, ‘wolf,’ and κάνθαρος, ‘beetle.’ But though the resulting -hybrid might be a monster as hideous as the worst of Callicantzari, -these creatures so far as I know show no traits suggestive of -entomological parentage. But since Polites himself has long abandoned -this view, there is no need to criticize it further. - -His next pronouncement on the subject[586] banished both wolf and -beetle and seemed to recognise the necessity of keeping the main form -καλλικάντζαρος to the fore. But while he naturally assumed καλός to be -the first half of the compound, he could only set down κάντζαρος as an -unknown foreign, perhaps Slavonic, word. - -But in his latest publication[587] he relinquishes this position -and falls back once more on a dialectic form καλιτσάγγαρος which is -reported to be in use at the village of Pyrgos in Tenos and at some -places on the western shores of the Black Sea. This word he believes to -be a compound, of which the second half is connected with a Byzantine -word τσαγγίον, meaning a kind of boot, and the still existing, if -somewhat rare, word, τσαγγάρης, ‘a boot-maker,’ while the first half -is to be either καλός, ‘fine,’ or καλίκι, ‘a hoof[588].’ The former -alternative provides easily the form καλοτσάγγαρος or, as would be -almost more likely, καλλιτσάγγαρος, meaning ‘one who wears fine boots’; -while in the other alternative there results a supposed original -form καλικοτσάγγαρος, meaning ‘one who has hoofs instead of boots,’ -whence, by suppression of the third syllable, comes the existing word -καλιτσάγγαρος, or again, by loss of the first syllable, a supposed form -λικοτσάγγαρος which developed into λυκοκάντζαρος. - -On the score of formation the former alternative is unassailable; but -the latter, with its supposed loss of syllables, is more questionable. -The loss of a first syllable is common enough in modern Greek, where -it consists of a vowel only (e.g. βρίσκω[589] for εὑρίσκω, μέρα for -ἡμέρα, etc.), but the supposed loss of the syllable κα would, I think, -be hard to parallel. Again the loss of a syllable in the middle of a -word is fairly common either through the suppression of the vowel ι (or -η, which is not distinguished from ι in sound) as in καλκάντζαρος for -καλλικάντζαρος, ἔρμος for ἔρημος, etc., or else when two concurrent -syllables begin with the same consonant, as in ἀστροπελέκι, ‘a -thunderbolt,’ for ἀστραποπελέκι, but the loss of the syllable κο from -the form καλικοτσάγγαρος is a bold hypothesis. - -But on the score of meaning both alternatives are alike -unconvincing. Polites indeed cites one or two popular traditions in -which the Callicantzari are represented as wearing wooden or iron -shoes--wherewith no doubt the better to kick and to trample their -victims; and such footgear might, I suppose, be described ironically as -‘nice boots.’ But to find in this occasional trait the origin of the -word Callicantzaros[590] appears to me a counsel of despair. Nor does -the other alternative commend itself to me any more. It is of course -a widely accepted belief--and one by the way which contradicts the -traditions just mentioned--that the Callicantzari have feet like those -of an ass or a goat. But in describing such a creature no one surely -would be likely to say that it had hoofs ‘instead of boots’--‘instead -of feet’ would be the natural and reasonable expression. To suppose -that the Callicantzari (or rather, to use the hypothetical form, -the καλικοτσάγγαροι) are so named because their boot-maker provides -them with hoofs instead of detachable foot-gear, is little short of -ludicrous. - -But though neither of the proposed derivations will, I think, win much -acceptance, the historical evidence which Polites adduces in support of -his views forms a valuable contribution to the study of this subject. -The inferences which he draws therefrom may not be correct; but the -material which he has collected is of high interest. - -Singling out of the many traditions concerning the Callicantzari the -widely, and perhaps universally, prevalent belief that their activities -are confined to the Twelve Days between Christmas and Epiphany, he -argues that if we can discover the origin of this limitation, we shall -be in a fair way to discover also whence came the conception of the -Callicantzari themselves. - -Accordingly he traces the history of winter festivals in Greece, -starting from the period in which the Greeks, in deference to their -Roman masters, adopted the festivals known as the Saturnalia, the -Brumalia, and the Kalándae (for so the celebration of the Kalends of -January was called by the Greeks) in place of their own old festivals -such as the Kronia and some of the festivals of Dionysus. The change -however was more one of name than of method of observance[591]. The -pagan orgies which marked these festal days were strongly denounced -by the Fathers of the Church from the very earliest times. In the -first century of our era, Timothy, bishop of Ephesus, met with his -martyrdom in an attempt to suppress such a festival. At the end of the -fourth century S. John Chrysostom and, after him, Asterios, bishop of -Amasea, loudly inveighed against the celebration of the Kalandae. At -the end of the seventh century the sixth Oecumenical Council of the -Church promulgated a canon forbidding all these pagan winter-festivals. -But still in the twelfth century, as Balsamon testifies[592], the -old abuses continued unabated; and there are local survivals of such -festivals at the present day. - -The most prominent feature of these celebrations was that men dressed -themselves up in various characters, to represent women, soldiers, or -animals, and thus disguised gave themselves up to the wildest orgies. -At Ephesus it is clear that these orgies included human sacrifice, and -that Bishop Timothy was on one occasion the victim; for we are told by -Photius that he met with his death in trying to suppress ‘the polluted -and blood-stained rites of the Greeks[593]’; and the same writer -speaks of τὸ καταγώγιον--so this particular ceremony was called--as -a ‘devilish and abominable festival[594]’ in which men ‘took delight -in unholy things as if they were pious deeds[595].’ And again another -account of the same celebration tells how men with masks on their faces -and with clubs in their hands went about ‘assaulting without restraint -free men and respectable women, perpetrating murders of no common sort -and shedding endless blood in the best parts of the city, as if they -were performing a religious duty (ὡσανεὶ ἀναγκαῖόν τι καὶ ψυχωφελὲς -πράττοντες)[596].’ - -At Amasea, according to Asterios, at the beginning of the fifth -century, things were not much better. The peasants, he says, who come -into the town during the festival ‘are beaten and outraged by drunken -revellers, they are robbed of anything they are carrying, they have -war waged upon them in a time of peace, they are mocked and insulted -in word and in deed[597].’ Here too the custom of dressing up was in -vogue among those who took part in the festival--women’s dress being -especially affected. - -Again in the seventh century the points specially emphasized by the -canon of the Church are that ‘no man is to put on feminine dress, nor -any woman the dress proper to men, nor yet are masks, whether comic, -satyric, or tragic, to be worn’; and the penalty for disregard of this -ordinance was to be excommunication. Yet for all these fulminations the -old custom continued. The author of ‘the Martyrdom of S. Dasius[598],’ -writing perhaps as late as the tenth century, speaks of the festival of -the Kronia as still observed in the old way: ‘on the Kalends of January -foolish men, following the custom of the (pagan) Greeks, though they -call themselves Christians, hold a great procession, changing their -own appearance and character, and assuming the guise of the devil; -clothed in goat-skins and with their faces disguised,’ they reject -their baptismal vows and again serve in the devil’s ranks. And still in -the twelfth century these practices obtained not only among the laity -but even among the clergy, some of whom, in the words of Balsamon[599], -‘assume various masks and dresses, and appear in the open nave of the -church, sometimes with swords girt on and in military uniform, other -times as monks or even as quadrupeds.’ - -Several instances of the continuance of this custom in modern times -have been collected by Polites[600] and others; the savage orgies of -old time have indeed dwindled into harmless mummery; but their most -constant feature, the wearing of strange disguises, remains unchanged; -and the occasion too is still a winter-festival, either some part -of the Twelve Days or the carnival preceding Lent. From certain -facts concerning these modern festivals it will be manifest that -some relation exists between the mummers who celebrate them and the -Callicantzari. - -In Crete, where the New Year is thus celebrated, the mummers are -called καμπουχέροι, while in Achaia a fuller form of the same word, -κατσιμπουχέροι, is a by-name of the Callicantzari. At Portariá on -Mount Pelion, each night of the Twelve Days, a man is dressed up as an -‘Arab,’ wearing an old cloak and having bells affixed to his clothes. -He goes the round of the streets with a lantern; and the villagers -explicitly state that this is done γιὰ τὰ καρκαντζέλια, ‘because of -the Callicantzari,’ i.e., says Polites, as a means of getting rid of -them. At Pharsala there is a sort of play at the Epiphany, in which -the mummers represent bride, bridegroom, and ‘Arab’; the Arab tries to -carry off the bride, and the bridegroom defends her. In some parts of -Macedonia similar mumming takes place at the New Year; in Belbentós the -men who take part in it are called ‘Arabs’; at Palaeogratsana they have -the name ῥουκατζιάρια (evidently another compound of κάντζαρος, but one -which I cannot interpret); formerly also ‘at Kozane and in many other -parts of Greece,’ according to a Greek writer in the early part of the -nineteenth century, throughout the Twelve Days boys carrying bells used -to go round the houses, singing songs and having ‘one or more of their -company dressed up with masks and bells and foxes’ brushes and other -such things to give them a weird and monstrous look.’ - -This custom is evidently identical with one which I myself saw enacted -in Scyros at the carnival preceding Lent. The young men of the town -array themselves in huge capes made of goat-skin, reaching to the -hips or lower, and provided with holes for the arms. These capes are -sometimes made with hoods of the same material which cover the whole -head and face, small holes being cut for the eyes but none for purposes -of respiration. In other cases the cape covers the shoulders only, -leaving the head free, and the young man contents himself with the -blue and white kerchief, which is the usual head-gear in Scyros, and a -roughly made domino. A third variety of cape is provided with a hood -to cover the back of the head, while the mask for the face is made -of the skin of some small animal such as a weasel, of which the hind -legs and tail are attached to the hood, while the head and forelegs -hang down to the breast of the wearer; eye-holes are cut in these as -in the other forms of mask. These capes are girt tightly about the -waist with a stout cord or strap, from which are hung all round the -body a large number of bronze goat-bells, of the ordinary shape but -of extraordinary dimensions, some measuring as much as ten inches for -the greatest diameter. The method by which these bells are attached -to the belt is remarkable, and is designed to permit a large number of -them to be worn without being in any way muffled by contact with the -cape. Each bell is fastened to one end of a curved and springy stick of -about a foot in length, and the other end is inserted behind the belt -from above; the curve and elasticity of the stick thus cause the bell -to hang at some few inches distance from the body, free to jangle with -every motion of the dancer. Some sixty or seventy of these bells, of -various sizes, are worn by the best-equipped, and the weight of such -a number was estimated by the people of the place as approximately -a hundredweight--no easy load with which to dance over the narrow, -roughly-paved alleys of ‘steep Scyros.’ Those however who lack either -the prowess or the accoutrements to share in the glorious fatigue -do not abstain altogether from the festivities; even the small boys -beg, borrow, or steal a goat-bell and attach it to the hinder part of -their person in lieu of a tail, or, at the worst, make good the caudal -deficiency with a branch from the nearest tree. - -Thus in various grades of goat-like attire the young men and boys -traverse the town, stopping here and there, where the steep and -tortuous paths offer a wider and more level space, to leap and dance, -or anon at some friendly door to imbibe spirituous encouragement to -further efforts. In the dancing itself there is nothing peculiar to -this festival; the swinging amble, which is the gait of the more -heavily equipped, is prescribed by the burden of bells and the -roughness of roads. The purpose of the leaping and dancing is solely -to evoke as much din as possible from the bells; and prodigious indeed -is the jarring and jangling in those narrow alleys when the troupe of -dancers leap together into the air, as high as their burdens allow, and -come down with one crash. - -Since I first published[601] an account of these festivities in Scyros, -similar celebrations of carnival-time have been reported from other -places; at Sochos in Macedonia[602] the scene is almost identical -with that which I have described; in the district of Viza in Thrace a -primitive dramatic performance was recently observed in which the two -chief actors wore similar goat-skins, masks, and bells, and had their -hands blackened[603]; and again at Kostí in the extreme north of Thrace -there is mummery of the same kind[604]. - -A scene of the same sort was formerly enacted in Athens also during -the carnival, and was known by the expressive name τὰ ταράματα (i.e. -ταράγματα), ‘The Riotings.’ A man dressed up as a bear used to -rush through the streets followed by a crowd of youths howling and -clashing any noisy instruments that came to hand. That this ceremony -was originally of a religious character is shown not only by its -association with the season of Lent, but by an accessory rite performed -on the same occasion. Wooden statues, actually called ξόανα as late -as the time of the Greek War of Independence, were carried out in -procession; and the well-being of the people was believed to be so -bound up with the due performance of these rites, that even during the -Revolution, when Athens was in the hands of the Turks, a native of the -place is said to have returned from Aegina, whither he had fled for -safety, in order to play the part of the bear and to carry out the -_xoana_ for the general good[605]. - -The close connexion of these several modern customs, whether the -occasion of them is the Twelve Days or Carnival-time, cannot be -doubted. The variation of date is of old standing; for the canon of -the Church, on which Balsamon[606] comments, condemns certain pagan -festivals on March 1st (approximately the carnival time) along with the -_Kalandae_ and _Brumalia_; and the similarity of the dresses, masks, -bells, and other accoutrements proper to both occasions proves the -substantial identity of the festivals. - -A comparison of these allied modern customs can only lead to one -conclusion. The use of the same word to denote the mummers in Crete and -the Callicantzari in Achaia; the name ῥουκατζιάρια for these mummers -at Palaeogratsana; the custom of blackening the face, which is clearly -indicated by the employment of the name ‘Arab’ in this connexion; the -monstrous and half-animal appearance produced by masks, foxes’ brushes, -goat-skins, and suchlike adornments; the attempted rape of the bride -by the ‘Arab’ in the play at Pharsala--all furnish contributory -evidence that the mummers themselves represent Callicantzari. Only at -Portariá is the significance of the custom somewhat confused; there -the ‘Arab’ in his old cloak and bells has long ceased to represent a -Callicantzaros, and has actually been provided with a lantern with -which to scare the Callicantzari away. - -The mummers then represent Callicantzari; the question which remains to -be answered is whether the mumming was the cause or the effect of the -belief in Callicantzari. - -Polites, in support of his theory that the name Callicantzari, in its -earliest form, meant either ‘wearers of nice boots’ or ‘possessors of -hoofs instead of boots,’ claims that the mummers first suggested to -the Greek imagination the conception of the Callicantzari (it is not -indeed anywhere mentioned in the above traditions that the feet or the -footgear of the mummers were in any way remarkable, but we may let -that pass), and that the fear which their riotous conduct inspired in -earlier times gradually elevated them in men’s minds to the rank of -demons. This, he urges, is the reason why these demons are feared only -during the Twelve Days, the period when such mumming was in vogue. - -In confirmation of his view Polites cites some of the evidence -concerning the human origin of the Callicantzari, mentioning both -the fairly common belief that men turn into Callicantzari, and the -rarer traditions that a Callicantzaros resumes his human shape if a -torch be thrust in his face and that the transformation of men into -Callicantzari can be prevented by certain means. With this evidence -I have already dealt, and I agree with Polites that in it there -survives a genuine record of the human origin of the Callicantzari. -But of course on the further question, whether the particular men thus -elevated to the dignity of demons were the mummers of Christmastide, it -has no immediate bearing. - -As a second piece of corroboration, he adduces another derivation -hardly more felicitous than those with which I have already dealt. -The word on which he tries his hand this time is καμπουχέροι -or κατσιμπουχέροι--the name of the mummers in Crete and of the -Callicantzari in Achaia. Here again, with a certain perversity, he -selects the worse form of the two, καμπουχέροι, which is evidently -a syncopated form of the other, and proceeds to derive it from the -Spanish _gambujo_, ‘a mask,’ leaving the subsequent development of -κατσιμπουχέροι totally inexplicable. For my own part I consider it far -more probable that the word κατσιμπουχέροι is a humorously compounded -name, of which the second half is the word μπουχαρί[607] (an Arabic -word which has passed, probably through Turkish, into Greek) meaning -‘chimney,’ and that the whole by-name has reference simply to the -common belief that Callicantzari try to extinguish the fire on the -hearth and thus to gain access to the house by the chimney. As to -the meaning of κατσι-, the first half of the compound, I can only -hazard the conjecture that it is connected with the verb κατσιάζω, -which ordinarily means to blight, to wither, to dry up, and so forth, -though its passive participle, κατσιασμένος, is said by Skarlatos[608] -to be applied to clothes which are ‘difficult to wash.’ If then the -compound κατσιμπουχέροι is a descriptive title of the Callicantzari, -meaning those who render the chimney difficult to wash, the coarse -and eminently rustic humour of the allusion to their habits needs no -further explanation; and it is the mummers of Crete who owe their name -to the Callicantzari, not _vice versa_. - -While therefore I acknowledge and appreciate to the full the value of -Polites’ researches into the history of the Twelve Days, the inferences -which he draws from the material collected seem to me no more sound -than the derivations which they are designed to corroborate. My own -interpretation of the historical facts which Polites has brought -together is as follows. - -The superstitions and customs connected by the modern folk with -the Twelve Days are undoubtedly an inheritance from ancestors who -celebrated the Brumalia and other pagan festivals at the same season -of the year. These ancient festivals, though Roman in name, probably -differed very little in the manner of their observance from certain -old Greek festivals, chief among which was some festival of Dionysus. -This is rendered probable both by the date of these festivals and -by the manner of their celebration. For the worship of Dionysus was -practically confined to the winter-time; at Delphi his cult superseded -that of Apollo during the three winter months[609]; and at Athens the -four festivals of Dionysus fell within about the same period--the rural -Dionysia at the end of November or beginning of December, the Lenaea -about a month later, the Anthesteria at the end of January, and the -Great Dionysia at the end of February. As for the manner of conducting -the Latin-named festivals, Asterios’ description of the Kalándae in the -fifth century plainly attests the Dionysiac character of the orgies, -and Balsamon, in the twelfth, was so convinced, from what he himself -witnessed, of their Bacchanalian origin, that he actually proposed -to derive the name _Brumalia_ from Βροῦμος[610] (by which he meant -Βρόμιος) a surname of Dionysus. - -The mumming then, which is still customary in some parts of Greece -during the Twelve Days, is a survival apparently of festivals in -honour of Dionysus. Further the mummers dress themselves up to -resemble Callicantzari. But the worship of Dionysus presented a -similar scene; ‘those who made processions in honour of Dionysus,’ -says Ulpian, ‘used to dress themselves up for that purpose to resemble -his companions, some in the guise of Satyrs, others as Bacchae, and -others as Sileni[611].’ The mummers therefore of the present day have, -it appears, inherited the custom of dressing up from the ancient -worshippers of Dionysus and are their modern representatives; and -from this it follows that the Callicantzari whom the modern mummers -strive to resemble are to be identified with those motley companions of -Dionysus whom his worshippers imitated of old. - -The more closely these two identifications are examined, the -more certain they will appear. Take for example Müller’s general -description[612] of the celebration of Dionysus’ festivals. ‘The -swarm of subordinate beings--Satyrs, Panes, and Nymphs--by whom -Bacchus was surrounded, and through whom life seemed to pass from -the god of outward nature into vegetation and the animal world, and -branch off into a variety of beautiful or grotesque forms, were ever -present to the fancy of the Greeks; it was not necessary to depart -very widely from the ordinary course of ideas, to imagine that dances -of fair nymphs and bold satyrs, among the solitary woods and rocks, -were visible to human eyes, or even in fancy to take a part in them. -The intense desire felt by every worshipper of Bacchus to fight, -to conquer, to suffer, in common with him, made them regard these -subordinate beings as a convenient step by which they could approach -more nearly to the presence of their divinity. The custom, so prevalent -at the festivals of Bacchus, of taking the disguise of satyrs, -doubtless originated in this feeling, and not in the mere desire of -concealing excesses under the disguise of a mask; otherwise, so serious -and pathetic a spectacle as tragedy could never have originated in -the choruses of these satyrs. The desire of escaping from _self_ into -something new and strange, of living in an imaginary world, breaks -forth in a thousand instances in these festivals of Bacchus. It is -seen in the colouring the body with plaster, soot, vermilion, and -different sorts of green and red juices of plants, wearing goats’ and -deer skins round the loins, covering the face with large leaves of -different plants; and lastly in the wearing masks of wood, bark, and -other materials, and of a complete costume belonging to the character.’ -To complete this description it may be added that ‘drunkenness, and the -boisterous music of flutes, cymbals and drums, were likewise common to -all Dionysiac festivals[613].’ Which of all these things is missing in -the mediaeval or modern counterpart of the festival? The blackening -of the face or the wearing of the masks, the feminine costume or -beast-like disguise, the boisterous music of bells, the rioting and -drunkenness--all are reproduced in the celebration of Kalandae and -Brumalia or in the mumming of the Twelve Days. The mummers are the -worshippers of a god, whose name however and existence they and their -forefathers have long forgotten. - -And again are not the Callicantzari faithful reproductions of the -Satyrs and Sileni who ever attended Dionysus? Their semi-bestial form -with legs of goat or ass affixed to a human trunk, their grotesque -faces and goat-like ears and horns, their boisterous and mischievous -merriment, their love of wine, their passion for dancing, above all -in company with Nereids, the indecency of their actions and sometimes -of their appearance, their wantonness and lust--all these widely -acknowledged attributes of the Callicantzari proclaim them lineal -descendants of Dionysus’ motley comrades. - -Such is my interpretation of the facts collected by Polites, and it -differs from that which he has advanced in the reversal of cause and -effect. Starting from the fact that dressing up in various disguises -was the chief characteristic of the Kalandae and Brumalia and is -perpetuated in the mumming of the Twelve Days, but failing to carry his -researches far enough back and so to discover the absolute identity of -these festivals with the ancient Dionysia, he holds that the generally -prevalent custom of dressing up in monstrous and horrible disguises at -a given period of the year--a custom which he leaves unexplained--was -the cause of the belief in the activity of monstrous and horrible -demons at that period; those who had once been simply human mummers -were exalted to the ranks of the supernatural, but still betrayed -their origin by the possession of a name which meant either ‘wearers -of nice boots’ or else ‘hoofed and not booted.’ In my view on the -contrary the identity of the modern mumming with the ancient Dionysia -is indisputable; and just as in ancient times the belief in the Satyrs -and Sileni was the cause of the adoption of satyr-like disguises in the -Dionysia, so in more recent times, when the Satyrs, Sileni, and others -came to be included in the more comprehensive term Callicantzari, -it was the belief in the Callicantzari which continued to cause the -wearing of similar disguises during the Twelve Days. - -And this interpretation of the facts explains no less adequately than -that of Polites the reason why the activities of the Callicantzari are -limited to the Twelve Days. That which was in ancient times the special -season for the commemoration of Dionysus and his attendants has now -with the very gradual but still real decline of ancient beliefs become -the only season. This is natural and intelligible enough in itself; -but, if a parallel be required, Greek folklore can provide one. No one -will suppose that the Dryads of ancient Greece were feared during the -first six days of August only, though it is likely enough that they -had a special festival at that time; but in modern folklore these are -the only days on which, in many parts of Greece, any survival of the -Dryads’ memory can be found[614]. -Moreover the identification of the Callicantzari with the Satyrs and -other kindred comrades of Dionysus elucidates a modern custom which I -noticed earlier in this chapter but did not then explain--the rare, but -known, custom of making offerings to the Callicantzari. The sweetmeats, -waffles, sausages, and even the pig’s bone which are occasionally -placed in the chimney for the Callicantzari correspond, it would seem, -with offerings formerly made to Dionysus and shared by his train of -Satyrs. Possibly even the choice of pork (usually in the shape of -sausages) or, in the more rudimentary form of the survival, of a pig’s -bone, dates from the age in which the proper victim for Dionysus at the -Anthesteria was a sow; but of course it may only have been determined -by the fact that pork is the peasant’s Christmas fare and therefore the -most ready offering at that season. - -How then, it will be asked, does the conclusion here reached, -namely that the Callicantzari are, in many districts, the modern -representatives of the Satyrs and other kindred beings, square with -that other conclusion previously drawn from another set of facts, -namely that the Callicantzari were originally not demons but men who -either voluntarily or under the compulsion of a kind of madness assumed -the shape and the character of beasts? The reconciliation of these two -apparently antagonistic conclusions depends primarily on the derivation -of the name Callicantzari. - -Now the conditions which in my opinion that derivation should satisfy, -have already been indicated in my discussion of dialectic forms and in -my criticism of the several derivations proposed by others; but it will -be well to summarise them here. They are four in number. - -First, the derivation of this word, as of all others, must involve only -such phonetic changes as find parallels in other words of the language. - -Secondly, it must recognise the commonest form καλλικάντζαρος as being -also the central and original form from which the many dialectic forms -in the above table have diverged. - -Thirdly, it must explain this form as a compound of a word -κάντζαρος--presumably with καλός. For, in dialect, there exists a -word σκατζάρι, which is used as a synonym with καλλικάντζαρος and is -evidently in form a diminutive of the word κάντζαρος, and likewise -there exists another synonym λυκοκάντζαρος, which cannot be formed from -καλλικάντζαρος by an arbitrary shuffling of syllables but is a separate -compound of κάντζαρος--presumably with λύκος. - -Fourthly, and consequently on the last-named condition, the word -κάντζαρος, whether alone or in composition with either καλός or λύκος, -must possess a meaning adequate to denote the monsters who have been -described. - -All these conditions are satisfied in the identification of the word -κάντζαρος with the ancient word κένταυρος. - -The phonetic change herein involved will, to any who are not familiar -with the pronunciation of modern Greek, appear more considerable -than it really is. In that pronunciation it must be remembered that -the accent, which indicates the syllable on which stress is laid, -is everything, and ancient quantity is nothing; and further that -the ancient diphthongs _au_ and _eu_ have come to be pronounced -respectively as _av_ or _af_ and _ev_ or _ef_. The change of sound in -this case may therefore be fairly measured by the difference between -kéndăvrŏs and kándzărŏs in British pronunciation[615]. The phonetic -modifications therefore which require notice are the substitution of α -for ε in the first syllable, the introduction of a ζ after the τ, and -the loss of the _v_-sound before the ρ. - -The change from ε to α is very common in Greek, especially (by -assimilation it would seem) where the following syllable, as in the -word before us, has an α for its vowel. Thus ἀλαφρός is constantly to -be heard instead of ἐλαφρός (light), ἀργαλει̯ός for ἐργαλειός (a loom), -ματα- for μετα- in compound verbs. The insertion of ζ (or σ) after -τ is certainly a less common change, but parallels can be found for -this also. The ancient word τέττιγες (grasshoppers) appears in modern -Greek as τζίτζικες. A word of Latin origin[616] τεντόνω (I stretch) -has an equally common by-form τσιτόνω. The classical word τύκανον -(a chisel) has passed, through a diminutive form τυκάνιον, into the -modern τσουκάνι. The word κεντήματα (embroideries) has a dialectic -form κεντζήματα[617]. From the adjective μουντός (grey, brown, dusky) -are formed substantives μουντζοῦρα and μουντζαλι̯ά (a stain or daub). -The substantive κατσοῦφα (sulkiness, sullenness) is probably to be -identified with the ancient κατήφεια. The two most frequently employed -equivalents for ‘mad’ or ‘crazy’--τρελλός and ζουρλός--are probably of -kindred origin--an insertion of ζ in the former having produced first -τζερλός and thence (τ)ζουρλός. Finally there is some likelihood that -the word κάντζαρος, in a botanical sense in which it is now used, is to -be identified with the ancient plant-name κενταυρεῖον or κενταύριον. -The former indeed now denotes a kind of juniper, while the later is -of course our ‘centaury’; but this difference in meaning is not, I -think, fatal to the identification of the words. At the present day -the common-folk are extraordinarily vague in their nomenclature of -natural objects. In travelling about I made a practice of asking my -guides and others the names of flowers and birds and suchlike; and my -general experience might fairly be summed up by saying that the average -peasant divides all birds which he does not eat into two classes; the -larger ones are hawks, and the smaller are--‘little birds, God knows -what’; and an accompanying shrug of the shoulders indicates that the -man does not care; while most flowers can be called either violets or -gilly-flowers at pleasure. Even therefore when a peasant of superior -intelligence knows that κάντζαρος is now the name of a kind of juniper, -it does not follow that that name has always belonged to it, and has -not been transferred to it from some plant formerly used, let us say, -for a like purpose. In this case it is known that both juniper and some -kind of centaury were formerly used for medicating wine[618], and the -wine treated with either was prescribed as ‘good for the stomach[619].’ -Hence a confusion of the two plants is intelligible enough among a -peasantry not distinguished by a love of botanical accuracy. But -I place no reliance upon this possible identification; the cases -previously cited furnish sufficient analogies. - -Further it may be noted that in the first two examples of this -insertion of ζ or σ a certain change in the consonants of the next -syllable accompanies it. The γ in τέττιγες becomes κ, the ντ in τεντόνω -is reduced to τ. In the same way, it seems, when ζ was inserted after -the τ of κένταυρος, the sound of _vr_ was reduced to _r_ only, though -certainly the loss of the _v_-sound might have occurred, apart from any -such predisposing modification, as in the common word ξέρω (I know) for -ἠξεύρω. - -Since then the etymological conditions of the problem are satisfied by -the identification of the word κάντζαρος with the ancient κένταυρος, -it remains only to show that the name of ‘Centaurs’ fitly belongs to -the monsters whom I have described; and my contention will be that the -simple word κάντζαρος, ‘Centaur,’ surviving now only in the dialectic -diminutive form σκατζάρι, adequately expresses every sort and condition -of Callicantzaros that has been depicted; that καλλικάντζαρος, the -general word, of which so many dialectic varieties occur, being -simply an euphemistic compound of κάντζαρος with καλός such as we -have previously seen in the title καλλικυρᾶδες given to the Nereids, -expresses precisely the same meaning as the simple word κάντζαρος, -‘Centaur’; and that λυκοκάντζαρος originally denoted one species only -of the genus Centaur, namely a Callicantzaros whose animal traits were -those of a wolf. - -What then did the ancients mean by the word ‘centaur’? - -The mention of the name is apt to carry away our minds to famous frieze -or pediment, where in one splendidly impossible creation of art the -excellences of man, his head and his hands, are wed with the horse’s -strength and speed. This was the species of Centaur which the great -sculptors and painters in the best period of Greek Art chose to depict, -and these among educated men became the Centaurs _par excellence_. Yet -even so it was not forgotten that they formed only one species, and -were strictly to be called ἱπποκένταυροι, ‘horse-centaurs.’ Moreover -two other species of Centaur are named in the ancient language, -ἰχθυοκένταυροι or fish-centaurs, and ὀνοκένταυροι or ass-centaurs. Of -the former nothing seems to be known beyond the mere name, but this -matters little inasmuch as they can assuredly have contributed nothing -to the popular conception of the wholly terrestrial Callicantzari. The -ass-centaurs will prove of more interest. - -But the list of ancient species of Centaur does not really stop here. -No other compounds of the word Centaur may exist, but none the less -there were other Centaurs--other creatures, that is, of mixed human -and animal form. Chief among these were the Satyrs, who as pourtrayed -by early Greek art might equally well have been called ‘hippocentaurs,’ -and in the presentations of Greco-Roman art deserved the name, if I -may coin it, of ‘tragocentaurs.’ And the Greeks themselves recognised -this fact. ‘The evidence of the coins of Macedonia,’ says Miss Jane -Harrison[620], ‘is instructive. On the coins of Orreskii, a centaur, a -horse-man, bears off a woman in his arms. At Lete close at hand, with -a coinage closely resembling in style, fabric, weight the money of the -Orreskii and other Pangaean tribes, the type is the same in _content_, -though with an instructive difference of form--a naked Satyr or -Seilenos with the hooves, ears and tail of a horse seizes a woman round -the waist.... This interchange of types, Satyr and Centaur, is evidence -about which there can be no mistake. Satyr and Centaur, slightly -diverse types of the horse-man, are in essence one and the same.’ -Nor was the recognition of this fact confined to Macedonia. A famous -picture by Zeuxis, representing the domestic life of Centaurs, with a -female Centaur (a creature about as rare as a female Callicantzaros) -suckling her young, pourtrayed her in most respects, apart from her -sex, conventionally, but gave her the ears of a Satyr[621]. And -reversely Nonnus ventured to describe the ‘shaggy Satyrs’ as being, ‘by -blood, of Centaur-stock[622].’ In view then of this close bond between -the two types of half-human half-animal creatures, it would be natural -that, when the specific name Satyr was lost, as it has been lost, from -the popular language, while the generic term Centaur survived in the -form Callicantzaros, the Satyrs should have been amalgamated with those -who from of old had professed and called themselves Centaurs; and with -the Satyrs, I suppose, went also the Sileni. - -Thus the word Centaur, in spite of the narrowing tendencies of -Greek art which selected the hippocentaur as the ideal type, was -always comprehensive in popular use, and perhaps became even wider -in scope as time went on and the distinctive appellations of Satyrs -and suchlike were forgotten; but it is also possible that from the -very earliest times the distinction between Satyrs and Centaurs was -merely an artistic and literary convention, and that in popular speech -the name Centaur was applied to both without discrimination. But it -does not really concern us to argue at length the question whether -the common-folk in antiquity never distinguished, or, having once -distinguished, subsequently confused the Satyrs and the Centaurs. -It is just worth noticing that it was in art of the Greco-Roman -period, so far as I can discover, that horse-centaurs first began to -be represented along with Satyrs and Sileni in the _entourage_ of -Dionysus; and if this addition to the conventional treatment of such -scenes was made, as seems likely, in deference to popular beliefs, -the date by which the close association of the two classes was an -accomplished fact and confusion of them therefore likely to ensue is -approximately determined. - -At some date therefore probably not later than the beginning of -our era, the generic name of Centaur comprised several species -of half-human, half-animal monsters, of whom the best known were -horse-centaurs, ass-centaurs, Satyrs, and Sileni; and each of these -species, it will be seen, has contributed something to one or other of -the many types of the modern Centaurs, the Callicantzari. - -The horse-centaur, which was the favourite species among the artists of -ancient times, has curiously enough had least influence upon the modern -delineation of Callicantzari. The only attribute which they seem to -have received chiefly from this source is the rough shaggy hair with -which they are usually said to be covered; ‘shaggy’ is Homer’s epithet -for the Centaurs[623], and the hippocentaurs of later art retained the -trait; for it is specially noted by Lucian that in Zeuxis’ picture the -male hippocentaur was shaggy all over, the human part of him no less -than the equine[624]. - -The ass-centaur on the contrary is rarely mentioned by ancient writers, -but has contributed largely to some presentments of the Callicantzari. -Aelian mentions the name, in the feminine form ὀνοκενταύρα, but the -monster to which he applies it, although true to its name in that -the upper part of its body is human and the lower part asinine, is -not a creation of superstitious fancy, but, as is evident from other -facts which he mentions, some species of ape known to him, none too -accurately, from some traveller’s tale. The _locus classicus_ on the -subject of genuine supernatural ass-centaurs is a passage in the -Septuagint translation of Isaiah[625]: καὶ συναντήσουσιν δαιμόνια -ὀνοκενταύροις καὶ βοηθήσονται ἕτερος πρὸς τὸν ἕτερον, ἐκεῖ ἀναπαύσονται -ὀνοκένταυροι εὑρόντες αὑτοῖς ἀνάπαυσιν--‘And demons shall meet with -ass-centaurs and they shall bring help one to another; there shall -ass-centaurs find rest for themselves and be at rest.’ Here our Revised -Version runs:--“The wild beasts of the desert shall meet with the -wolves (_Heb._ ‘howling creatures’), and the satyr shall cry to his -fellow; yea, the night-monster shall settle there.” The comparison -is instructive. It is clear from the context that the Septuagint -translators were minded to give some Greek colouring to their rendering -even at the expense of strict accuracy; for in the previous verse, -where our Revised Version employs the word ‘jackals,’ the Septuagint -introduces beings whose voices are generally supposed to have been -more attractive, the Sirens. The use of the word ‘ass-centaurs’ cannot -therefore have been prompted by any pedantic notions of literal -translation. The creatures, for all the lack of other literary -warranty, must have been familiar to the popular imagination. And what -may be gleaned from the passage concerning their character? Apparently -they are the nearest Greek equivalent for ‘howling creatures’ and -for ‘night-monsters’; and such emphasis in the Greek is laid upon -the statement that they will ‘find rest for themselves and be at -rest,’ that they must surely in general have borne a character for -restlessness. These restless noisy monsters of the night, in shape -half-human and half-asinine, are clearly in character no less than in -form the prototypes of some modern Callicantzari. - -Of the many traits inherited by the Callicantzari from the Satyrs -and Sileni, the usual comrades of Dionysus, I have already spoken. -So far as outward appearance is concerned, the Satyrs as they came -to be pourtrayed in the later Greek art are clearly responsible for -the goat-type so common in the description of the Callicantzari, -while a reminiscence of the Sileni may perhaps be traced in the rarer -bald-headed type. But as regards their manner of life, which as I have -shown bears many resemblances to that of the Satyrs--their boisterous -merriment and rioting, their love of wine, their violence, and their -lewdness--these traits cannot of course be referred to the Satyrs any -more than to the hippocentaurs or for that matter to the onocentaurs -who were probably no more sober or chaste than their kindred. Rather it -was the common possession of these qualities by the several types of -half-human and half-bestial monsters that allowed them to be grouped -together under the single name of Callicantzari. - -Thus the conclusion drawn from an historical survey of those ancient -festivals which are now represented by the Twelve Days, namely that the -Callicantzari are the modern representatives of Dionysus’ monstrous -comrades, is both corroborated and amplified by the etymological -identification of the Callicantzari (or in the simple and unadorned -form, the σκατζάρια) with the Centaurs, of whom the Satyrs and the -Sileni are species. - -The remaining modern name on which I have to touch readily explains -itself in the light of what has already been said. If the word -κάντζαρος is the modern form of κένταυρος, and if by the name ‘Centaur’ -was denoted a being half-human and half-animal both in shape and -in character, then the name λυκοκάντζαρος clearly should mean a -creature half-man half-wolf, such as the ancients might have called -a lycocentaur, but did actually name λυκάνθρωπος. Lycocantzaros then -etymologically should mean the werewolf--a man transformed either by -his own power or by some external influence into a wolf. - -The idea of lycanthropy has probably been familiar to the peasants of -Greece continuously from the earliest ages down to the present day, -either surviving traditionally like so many other beliefs, or possibly -stimulated by actual experiences; for lycanthropy is not a mere figment -of the imagination, but is a very real and terrible form of madness, -under the influence of which the sufferer believes himself transformed -(and by dress or lack of it tries to transfigure himself) into a wolf -or other wild animal, and in that state develops and satisfies a -craving for human flesh. Outbreaks of it were terribly frequent in the -east of Europe during the Middle Ages, especially among the Slavonic -populations; and it is not likely that Greece wholly escaped this -scourge. But whether the idea received some such impetus or no, it was -certainly known to the ancient Greeks, and is not wholly forgotten -at the present day. This was curiously betrayed by some questions put -to an American archaeologist by an Arcadian peasant. Among the items -of falsehood vended as news by the Greek press he had seen, but owing -to the would-be classical style had failed to understand, certain -allegations concerning the cannibalistic habits of Red Indians; and -the points on which he sought enlightenment were, first, whether they -ran on all fours, and, secondly, whether they went naked or wore -wolf-skins. In effect the only form of savagery familiar to his mind -was that of the werewolf. - -Now here, it might be thought, is the clue by which to explain the -first conclusion which we reached, namely, that the Callicantzari -were originally men capable of transformation into beasts. The name -λυκοκάντζαρος or werewolf, it might be urged, involved the idea of such -transformation; and the idea originally associated with the one species -was extended to the whole tribe of Callicantzari. At first sight -such an explanation is attractive and appears tenable; but maturer -consideration compels me to reject it. - -In the first place, although the word λυκοκάντζαρος cannot -etymologically have meant anything but werewolf when it was first -employed, at the present day in the few districts where the name may -be heard, in Cynouria, in Messenia, and, so far as I can ascertain, in -Crete, it involves no idea of the transformation of men into beasts; it -is merely a variant form for καλλικάντζαρος and in no way distinguished -from it in meaning, and the Callicantzari in those districts are demons -of definite hybrid form, not men temporarily transformed into beasts. -And conversely in the Cyclades and other places where the belief in -this transformation of men is prevalent, the compound λυκοκάντζαρος -seems to be unknown, and καλλικάντζαρος (or some dialectic form of the -same word) is in vogue. Since then in many places where the generic -name Callicantzari is alone in use, the human origin of these monsters -is maintained, while in those few districts where the specific name -Lycocantzari is also used that human origin is denied, it is hard to -believe that in this respect the surviving ideas concerning the genus -can be the outcome of obsolete ideas concerning the species. - -Secondly, if for the sake of argument it be granted that the -Callicantzari had always been demons, how came the werewolf, the -λυκάνθρωπος, whose very name proved him half-human, to change that -name to λυκοκάντζαρος? How came a man who occasionally turned into -a wolf to be classified as one species in a genus of beings who _ex -hypothesi_ were not human even in origin, but demoniacal? We should -have to suppose that the peasants of that epoch in which the change -of name occurred did not distinguish between men and demons--which, -as Euclid puts it, is absurd; wherefore the supposition that the -Callicantzari had always been regarded as demons until werewolves were -admitted to their ranks cannot be maintained. Rather the point of -resemblance between the earliest Callicantzari and werewolves, which -made the amalgamation of them possible, must have been the belief that -both alike were men transformed into animals. - -Since then the belief in the metamorphosis of men into Callicantzari -existed before that epoch--a quite indeterminate epoch, I am afraid--in -which the word λυκάνθρωπος fell into desuetude[626] and was replaced by -λυκοκάντζαρος, where are we to look for the origin of the idea? - -Since the Callicantzari bear the name of the Centaurs, it is obvious -that the enquiry must be carried yet further back, and that the ancient -ideas concerning the Centaurs’ origin must be investigated. Pindar -touches often upon the Centaur-myths; what view did he take of the -Centaurs’ nature? Were they divine in origin or human? We shall see -that he held no settled view on the subject. Both traditions concerning -the origin of the Centaurs were familiar to him just as both traditions -still prevail in modern accounts of the Callicantzari; sometimes he -follows the one, sometimes the other. On the one hand the Centaur -Chiron is consistently described as divine. ‘Fain would I,’ says -Pindar[627], ‘that Chiron ... wide-ruling scion of Cronos the son of -Ouranos were living and not gone, and that the Beast of the wilds were -ruling o’er the glens of Pelion’; and again he names him ‘Chiron son -of Cronos[628]’ and ‘the Beast divine[629].’ In Pindar’s view Chiron, -be he Beast or God, is certainly not human; and if he is once named -by the same poet ‘the Magnesian Centaur[630],’ the epithet need only -perhaps declare his habitation. His divinity is plainly asserted, and -the legend that he resigned the divine guerdon of immortality in order -to deliver Prometheus accords with Pindar’s doctrine. - -But on the other hand the story of Ixion as told by Pindar reveals -another tradition. Ixion himself was human; for his presumptuous sin of -lusting after the wife of Zeus ‘swiftly he suffered as he, mere man, -deserved, and won a misery unique[631].’ The son of Ixion therefore -by a nebulous mother could not be divine. The cloud wherewith in -his delusion he had mated ‘bare unto him, unblest of the Graces, a -monstrous son, a thing apart even as she, with no rank either among -men or where gods have their portion; him she nurtured and named -Centauros; and he in the dales of Pelion did mate with Magnesian mares, -and thence there sprang a wondrous warrior-tribe like unto both their -parents--like to their dams in their nether parts, and the upper frame -their sire’s[632].’ The first Centaur then, the founder of the race, -though only half-human in origin, was in no respect divine. How then -came Chiron, one of that race, to be divine? The two traditions are -inconsistent. Pindar as a poet was not troubled thereby; he chose now -the one, now the other, for his art to embroider. But in the science -of mythology the discrepancy of the two traditions is important. Once -more we must carry our search further back--to Hesiod and to Homer. - -The former, in placing the battle of the Lapithae and the Centaurs -among the scenes wrought on the shield of Heracles[633], says never a -word to suggest that either set of combatants were other than human; -the contrast between them lies wholly in the weapons they use. The -Lapithae have their leaders enumerated, Caineus, Dryas, Pirithous, -and the rest; the Centaurs in like manner are gathered about their -Chieftains, ‘huge Petraeos and Asbolos the augur and Arctos and Oureios -and black-haired Mimas and the two sons of Peukeus, Perimedes and -Dryalos.’ The account reads like a description of a fight between two -tribes, one of them equipped with body-armour and using spears, the -other more primitive and armed only with rude wooden weapons. - -To this representation of the Centaurs Homer also, in the _Iliad_, -consents; for, though he names them Pheres or ‘Beasts,’ it is quite -clear that this is the proper name of a tribe of men--men who dwelt -on Mount Pelion and were hardly less valiant than the heroes who -conquered them. ‘Never saw I,’ says Nestor, ‘nor shall see other such -men as were Pirithous and Dryas, shepherd of hosts, and Caineus and -Exadios and godlike Polyphemus and Theseus, son of Aegeus, like unto -the immortals. Mightiest in sooth were they of men upon the earth, -and against mightiest fought, even the mountain-haunting Pheres, -and fearfully they did destroy them[634].’ And again we hear how -Pirithous ‘took vengeance on the shaggy Pheres, and drave them forth -from Pelion to dwell nigh unto the Aethices[635].’ Apart from the name -‘Pheres,’ which will shortly be examined, there is nothing in these -passages any more than in that of Hesiod to suggest that the conflict -of the Lapithae and the Centaurs means anything but the destruction -or expulsion of a primitive and wild mountain-tribe by a people who, -in the wearing of body-armour, had advanced one important step in -material civilisation. Yet in some respects the tribe of Centaurs -were, according to Homer, at least the equals of their neighbours; for -Chiron, ‘the justest of the Centaurs[636],’ was the teacher both of -the greatest warrior, Achilles[637], and of the greatest physician, -Asclepios[638]. The only passage of Homer which has been held to imply -that the Centaurs were not men comes not from the _Iliad_ but from the -_Odyssey_[639]--ἐξ οὗ Κενταύροισι καὶ ἀνδράσι νεῖκος ἐτύχθη--which Miss -Harrison[640] translates ‘Thence ’gan the feud ’twixt Centaurs and -mankind,’ inferring therefrom the non-humanity of the Centaurs. It is -however legitimate to take the word ἀνδράσι in a stricter sense, and to -render the line, ‘Thence arose the feud between Centaurs and heroes,’ -to wit, the heroes Pirithous, Dryas, and others; and the inference is -then impaired. But in any case the _Iliad_, the earlier authority, -consistently depicts both Chiron and the other Centaurs as human. The -tradition of a divine origin must have arisen between the date of -the _Iliad_ and the time of Pindar, and from then until now popular -opinion must have been divided on the question whether the Centaurs, -the Callicantzari, were properly men or demons. But one part of the -conclusion at which we first arrived, namely that Callicantzari were -originally men, is justified by Homer’s and Hesiod’s testimony. - -What then of the other part of that conclusion? There is ancient -proof that the Callicantzari were originally men; but what witness is -there to the metamorphosis of those men into beasts? The Centaurs’ -alternative name, Pheres. - -An ethnological explanation of this name has recently been put forward -by Prof. Ridgeway[641]. Concluding from the evidence of the _Iliad_ -that ‘the Pheres are as yet nothing more than a mountain tribe and -are not yet conceived as half-horse half-man,’ he points out, on the -authority of Pindar, that Pelion was the country of the Magnetes[642] -and that Chiron not only dwelt in a cave on Pelion, but is himself -called a Magnete[643]. ‘It is then probable,’ he continues[644], ‘that -the Centaur myth originated in the fact that the older race (the -Pelasgians) had continued to hold out in the mountains, ever the last -refuge of the remnants of conquered races. At first the tribes of -Pelion may have been friendly to the (Achaean) invader who was engaged -in subjugating other tribes with whom they had old feuds; and as the -Norman settlers in Ireland gave their sons to be fostered by the native -Irish, so the Achaean Peleus entrusted his son to the old Chiron. -Nor must it be forgotten that conquering races frequently regard the -conquered both with respect and aversion. They respect them for their -skill as wizards, because the older race are familiar with the spirits -of the land.... On the other hand, as the older race have been driven -into the most barren parts of the land, and are being continually -pressed still further back, and have their women carried off, they -naturally lose no opportunity of making reprisals on their enemies, and -sally forth from their homes in the mountains or forests to plunder -and in their turn to carry off women. The conquering race consequently -regard the aborigines with hatred, and impute to them every evil -quality, though when it is necessary to employ sorcery they will always -resort to one of the hated race.’ - -Then follow a series of instances from various parts of the world -which amply justify this estimate of the relations between conquerors -and conquered. But in applying the principle thus obtained to the -case of the Centaurs Prof. Ridgeway goes a little further. ‘As it is -therefore certain that aboriginal tribes who survive in mountains and -forests are considered not only possessed of skill in magic, but as -also bestial in their lusts, _and are even transformed into vipers and -wild beasts by the imagination of their enemies_, we may reasonably -infer from the Centaur myth that the ancient Pelasgian tribes of Pelion -and Ossa had been able to defy the invaders of Thessaly, and that they -had from the remotest times possessed these mountains. - -‘We can now explain why they are called Pheres, Centauri and Magnetes. -Scholars are agreed in holding that Pheres (φῆρες) is only an Aeolic -form for θῆρες, “wild beasts.” Such a name is not likely to have been -assumed by the tribe itself, but is rather an opprobrious term applied -to them by their enemies. Centauri was probably the name of some -particular clan of Magnetes[645].’ - -Prof. Ridgeway then, as I understand, believes the Centauri to have -been named Pheres or ‘Beasts’ by their enemies because they were -bestial in character, and supports his view by the statement which I -have italicised. On this point I join issue. - -First, the phrase in question is based upon one only out of the many -instances which he adduces as evidence of the relations between -invaders and aborigines--and that the most dubious, for it depends upon -a somewhat arbitrary interpretation of a passage[646] of Procopius. -‘He wrote,’ says Prof. Ridgeway[647], ‘in the sixth century of Britain -thus: “The people who in old time lived in this island of Britain built -a great wall, which cut off a considerable portion of it. On either -side of this wall the land, climate and everything are different. -For the district to the east of the wall enjoys a healthy climate, -changing with the seasons, being moderately warm in summer and cool -in winter. It is thickly inhabited by people who live in the same -way as other folk.” After enumerating its natural advantages he then -proceeds to say that “On the west of the wall everything is quite the -opposite; so that, forsooth, it is impossible for a man to live there -for half-an-hour. Vipers and snakes innumerable and every kind of wild -beast share the possession of that country between them; and what is -most marvellous, the natives say that if a man crosses the wall and -enters the district beyond it, he immediately dies, being quite unable -to withstand the pestilential climate which prevails there, and that -any beasts that wander in there straightway meet their death.” - -‘There seems little doubt that the wall here meant is the Wall of -Hadrian, for the ancient geographers are confused about the orientation -of the island. - -‘It is therefore probable that the vipers and wild beasts who lived -beyond the wall were nothing more than the Caledonians, nor is it -surprising to learn that a sudden death overtook either man or beast -that crossed into their territory.’ - -That a native British statement made in the sixth century to the effect -that the country beyond Hadrian’s wall was pestilential in climate and -infested with vipers, snakes, and wild beasts, should be considered as -even probable evidence that either the Romans or the natives of Britain -regarded the Caledonians as noxious animals, is to me surprising. The -question whether the Centaurs were called Pheres because of their -bestial repute among neighbouring tribes must be decided independently -of that inference and on its own merits. - -Secondly then, was there anything bestial in the conduct of the -Centaurs, as known to Homer, which could have won for them the name -of ‘Beasts’? All that ancient mythology tells of their conduct may be -briefly summarised; they fought with the men and carried off the women -of neighbouring tribes, and occasionally drank wine to excess. Were -the Achaeans then such ardent abstainers that they dubbed those who -indulged too freely in intoxicants ‘Beasts’? Did the invaders of Greece -and the assailants of Troy hold fighting so reprehensible? Or was it -the Centaurs’ practice of carrying off the women of their enemies -which convicted them of ‘bestial lust’? In all ages surely _humanum -est errare_, but in that early age the practice was not only human -but manly; the enemy’s womenfolk were among the rightful prizes of a -raid. There is nothing then in mythology to warrant the belief that the -Centaurs’ moral conduct was such as to win for them, in that age, the -opprobrious name of ‘Beasts.’ - -And here Art supports Mythology; for clearly the representation of the -Centaurs in semi-animal form cannot be dissociated from their name of -Pheres; the same idea must lie at the root of both. If then the name -Pheres was given to the Centaurs because of their violence or lust, the -animal portion of them in the representations of early Greek Art should -have been such as to express one or both of those qualities. But what -do we find? In discussing the development of the horse-centaur in art, -Miss Harrison[648] points out that though in horse-loving Athens, by -the middle of the fifth century B.C., the equine element predominated -in the composite being, ‘in archaic representations the reverse is the -case. The Centaurs are in art what they are in reality, _men_ with -men’s legs and feet, but they are shaggy mountain-men with some of the -qualities and habits of beasts; so to indicate this in a horse-loving -country they have the hind-quarters of a horse awkwardly tacked on -to their human bodies.’ Now the particular ‘qualities and habits of -beasts,’ if such there be, in the Centaurs must be their violence -and lust. Are these then adequately symbolised by ‘the hind-quarters -of a horse awkwardly tacked on to their human bodies’? In scenes of -conflict, in the archaic representations, it is the human part of the -Centaur which bears the brunt of the fight, and the weapon used is a -branch of a tree, the primitive human weapon; the Centaur fights as a -man fights. If he had been depicted with horns or teeth or claws as his -weapons of offence, then the animal part of him would fairly symbolise -his bestial violence; but who could discover a trace of pugnacity in -his equine loins and rump, hind legs and tail? Or again if pugnacity -is not the particular quality which caused the Centaurs to be named -‘Beasts’ and to be pourtrayed in half-animal form, is it their lewdness -which art thus endeavoured to suggest? Surely, if the early artists -had understood that the name Pheres was a contemptuous designation of -a tribe bestial in their lust, Greek taste was not so intolerant of -ithyphallic representations that they need have had recourse to so -cryptic a symbol as the hind-quarters of a horse. But if it be supposed -that, while a sense of modesty, unknown to later generations, deterred -those early artists from a more obvious method of expressing their -meaning, the idea of the Centaurs’ lewdness was really present to -their minds, then Chiron too falls under the same condemnation and is -tainted with the same vice as the rest. ‘A black-figured vase,’ says -Prof. Ridgeway, _à propos_ of the virtues, not of the vices, of this -one Centaur, ‘shows the hero (Peleus) bringing the little Achilles to -Chiron, who is depicted as a venerable old man with a white beard and -clad in a long robe from under the back of which issues the hinder -part of a diminutive pony, the equine portion being a mere adjunct to -the complete human figure[649].’ So far then as the animal part is -concerned, the representation of Chiron in early art differs no whit -from that of other Centaurs, and the quality, which is symbolised by -the equine adjunct in these, is imputed to him also. Yet to convict -of bestial lust the virtuous Chiron, the chosen teacher of great -heroes, is intolerable. In effect, no explanation of the name Pheres -in mythology and of the biform representation of the Centaurs in art -can be really satisfactory which does not reckon with Chiron, the most -famous and ‘the most just’ of the Centaurs, as well as with the rest -of the tribe. Some characteristic common to them all--and therefore -not lust or any other evil passion--must be the basis of any adequate -interpretation of the name ‘Beasts.’ - -If then the name Pheres cannot have been an opprobrious term applied -to the Pelasgian tribe of Centauri by the Achaean invaders in token -of their lusts or other evil qualities, can it have been a term of -respect? It may not now sound a respectful title; but in view of that -ethnological principle which Prof. Ridgeway enunciates, namely ‘that -conquering races frequently regard the conquered both with respect and -aversion,’ the enquiry is worth pursuing. The principle itself seems to -me well established; it is only his application of it in the particular -case of the Centaurs to which I have demurred. - -The conquering race, he shows, are apt to respect the conquered -for their skill as wizards. This certainly holds true in the case -before us. Chiron was of high repute in the arts of magic and -prophecy. It was from him that Asclepios learned ‘to be a healer of -the many-plaguing maladies of men; and thus all that came unto him -whether plagued with self-grown sores or with limbs wounded by the -lustrous bronze or stone far-hurled, or marred by summer heat or winter -cold--these he delivered, loosing each from his several infirmity, some -with emollient spells and some by kindly potions, or else he hung their -limbs with charms, or by surgery he raised them up to health[650].’ And -it was Chiron too to whom Apollo himself resorted for counsel, and from -whom he learned the blissful destiny of the maiden Cyrene[651]. Nor was -Chiron the only exponent of such arts among the Centaurs; for Hesiod -names also Asbolos as a diviner. - -If then the tribe of Centaurs enjoyed a reputation for sorcery, could -this have won for them the name of ‘Beasts’? Can it have been that, -in the exercise of their magic powers, they were believed able to -transform themselves into beasts? - -Within the limits of Greek folk-lore we have already once encountered -such a belief, namely in the case of the ‘Striges,’ old witches capable -of turning themselves into birds of prey; and in the folk-lore of the -world at large the idea is extremely frequent. There is no need to -encumber this chapter with a mass of recorded instances; the verdict -of the first authority on the subject is sufficient. According to -Tylor[652], the belief ‘that certain men, by natural gift or magic art, -can turn for a time into ravening wild beasts’ is ‘a widespread belief, -extending through savage, barbaric, classic, oriental, and mediaeval -life, and surviving to this day in European superstition.’ ‘The origin -of this idea,’ he says, ‘is by no means sufficiently explained,’ but -he notes that ‘it really occurs that, in various forms of mental -disease, patients prowl shyly, long to bite and destroy mankind, and -even fancy themselves transformed into wild beasts.’ Whether such cases -of insanity are the cause or the effect of the belief, he does not -determine; but he adds, what is most important to the present issue, -that ‘professional sorcerers have taken up the idea, as they do any -morbid delusion, and pretend to turn themselves and others into beasts -by magic art’; and, later on[653], citing by way of illustration a -passage of the _Eclogues_[654], in which Vergil ‘tells of Moeris as -turning into a wolf by the use of poisonous herbs, as calling up souls -from the tombs, and as bewitching away crops,’ he points out that in -the popular opinion of Vergil’s age ‘the arts of the werewolf, the -necromancer or “medium,” and the witch, were different branches of one -craft.’ - -If then the Centaurs were a tribe of reputed sorcerers and also -obtained the secondary name of ‘Beasts,’ the analogy of worldwide -superstitions suggests that the link between these two facts is to be -found in their magical power of assuming the shape of beasts. - -What particular beast-shape the Centaurs most often affected need not -much concern us. The analogy, on which my interpretation of the name -Pheres rests, makes certainly for some shape more terrifying than that -of a horse; and the word φῆρες itself also denotes wild and savage -beasts rather than domestic animals. But the horse-centaur, though it -monopolised art, was not the only form of centaur known, nor, if we may -judge from modern descriptions of the Callicantzari, had it so firm a -hold on the popular imagination as some other types. Possibly its very -existence is due only to the aesthetic taste of a horse-loving people. -Pindar certainly knew of one Centaurus earlier in date and far more -monstrous than the horse-centaurs which artists chose to depict, and -provided a genealogy accordingly. Moreover in the passage of Hesiod -which I have quoted above and which, by its agreement with the _Iliad_ -as to the human character of the Centaurs, is proved to embody an -early tradition, there is at least a suggestion of a more savage form -assumed by the Centaurs. Several of their names in that passage[655] -seem to indicate various qualities and habits which they possessed. -One is called Petraeos, because the Centaurs lived in rocky caves or -because they hurled rocks at their foes; another is Oureios, because -they were a mountain-tribe; then there are the two sons of Peukeus, so -named because the Centaurs’ weapons were pine-branches. And why is -another named Arctos? Is it not because the Centaurs assumed by sorcery -the form of bears? There is some probability then that the equine type -of Centaur, the conventional Centaur of Greek Art, was a comparatively -late development, and that the remote age which gave to the Centaurs -the name of Pheres believed rather that that tribe of sorcerers were -wont to transform themselves into the more monstrous and terrible -shapes of bears and other wild beasts. - -But if the particular animal which Greek artists selected as a -component part of their Centaurs is thus of minor importance, the -fact that their Centaurs were always composite in conception, always -compounded of the human and the animal, is highly significant. In -discussing the various types of Callicantzari in various parts of -Greece, we found that, where there exists a belief in their power of -metamorphosis, they are stated to appear in single and complete shapes, -while, where the belief in their transformation is unknown, they are -represented in composite shapes; and having previously concluded that -the belief in their metamorphosis was a genuine and original factor -in the superstition, we were led to formulate the principle, that a -being of some single, normal, and known shape who has originally been -believed capable of transforming himself into one or more other single, -normal, and known shapes, comes to be represented, when the belief -in his power of transformation dies out, as a being of composite, -abnormal, and fantastic shape, combining incongruous features of the -several single, normal, and known shapes. Now the horse-centaur of -Greek Art is a being of composite, abnormal, and fantastic shape, -combining incongruous features of man and animal. If then the principle -based on facts of modern Greek folk-lore may be applied to the facts -of ancient Greek folk-lore, the horse-centaur of Greek Art replaced -a completely human Centaur capable of transforming himself into -completely animal form. - -Moreover I am inclined to think that such a development was likely to -occur in the representations of art even more readily than in verbal -descriptions. For even if the artist belonged to an age which had not -yet forgotten that the Centaurs were human beings capable of turning -themselves by sorcery into beasts, how was he to distinguish the -Centaur in his picture either from an ordinary man, if the Centaur -were in his ordinary human shape, or from a real animal, if the -Centaur were in his assumed shape? He might of course have drawn an -ordinary man and have inscribed the legend, ‘This is a Centaur capable -of assuming other forms’; or he might have drawn an ordinary animal -with the explanatory note, ‘This is not really an animal but a Centaur -in disguise.’ But if such expedients did not satisfy his artistic -instincts, what was he to do? Surely his only course was to depict -the Centaur in his normal human shape, and by some animal adjunct -to indicate his powers of transformation. And that is what he did; -for in the earliest art the fore part of the Centaur is a complete -human figure, and the hind part is a somewhat disconnected equine -appendage[656]. - -Nor is this artistic convention without parallel in ancient Greece. -At Phigalea there was once, we are told, an ancient statue of Demeter -represented as a woman with the head and mane of a horse; and the -explanation of this equine adjunct was that she had once assumed the -form of a mare[657]. In other words, the power of transformation was -indicated in art by a composite form. - -Hence indeed it is not unlikely that the very method which early -artists adopted of indicating the Centaurs’ power to assume various -single forms, being misunderstood by later generations among whom the -Centaurs’ human origin and faculty of magical transformation were -no longer predominant traditions, contributed not a little to the -conception of Centaurs in an invariable composite form; and that later -art, by blending the two incongruous elements into a more harmonious -but less significant whole, confirmed men in that misunderstanding, -until the old traditions became a piece of rare and local lore. - -Thus on three separate grounds--the analogy of world-wide superstition -which attributes to sorcerers the power of assuming bestial form; -the tendency detected in modern Greek folk-lore to replace beings of -single shape, but capable of transforming themselves into other single -shapes, by creatures of composite shape; and the contrast between the -horse-centaurs of archaic art and those of the Parthenon--we are led to -the same conclusion, namely that the Centaurs were a tribe of reputed -sorcerers whose most striking manifestation of power, in the eyes of -their Achaean neighbours, was to turn themselves into wild beasts. The -name Pheres was then in truth a title of respect, a title in no way -derogatory to the virtuous Chiron, who, if he exercised his magical -powers chiefly in mercy and healing, shared doubtless with the other -Centaurs the miraculous faculty of metamorphosis. - -Our first conclusion then concerning the Callicantzari, namely that -they were originally men capable of turning into beasts, was no less -correct than the second conclusion which showed them as the modern -representatives of Dionysus’ attendant Satyrs and Sileni. Where the -beliefs in their human origin and in their power of metamorphosis -still prevail, Greek tradition has preserved not only the name but the -essential character of the ancient Centaurs. - -Does it seem hardly credible that popular tradition should still -faithfully record a superstition which dates from before Homer and yet -is practically ignored by Greek literature? Still if the fidelity of -the common-folk’s memory is guaranteed in many details by its agreement -with that which literature does record, it would be folly to disregard -it where literature is silent or prefers another of the still prevalent -traditions. Let us take only Apollodorus’ account[658] of the fight -of Heracles with the Centaurs and mark the several points in which it -confirms the present beliefs about the Callicantzari. The old home, he -says, of the Centaurs before they came to Malea was Pelion; Pelion is -now the place where above all others stories of the Callicantzari are -rife; and in the neighbouring island of Sciathos it is believed[659] -that they come at Christmas not from the lower world, but from the -mainland, the old country of the Magnetes; even local associations then -seem to have survived, just as in the modern stories about Demeter -from Eleusis and from Phigaleia. Heracles was entertained in the cave -of the Centaur Pholos; the Callicantzari likewise live in caves during -their sojourn on earth, and their hospitality, though never sought, -has been endured. The Centaur Pholos ate raw meat, though he provided -his guest with cooked meat; the Callicantzari also regale themselves -on uncooked food[660], toads and snakes for the most part, but in one -Messenian story also raw dogs’-flesh[661]. Heracles broached a cask of -wine, and Pholos’ brother Centaurs smelt it and swarmed to the cave on -mischief bent; the Callicantzari have the same love of wine and the -same malevolence. The first of the Centaurs to enter the cave were put -to flight by Heracles with fire-brands, and his ordinary weapon, the -bow, was not used by him save to complete the rout; fire-brands are the -right weapons with which to scare away the Callicantzari. Surely, when -such correspondences as these attest the integrity of popular tradition -for some two thousand years, there is nothing incredible in the -supposition that there had been equal integrity in popular (as opposed -to artistic and literary) traditions for another thousand years or more -before that. - -Thus then it appears that in some districts of modern Greece, in which -there prevail the beliefs that the Callicantzari are, in their normal -form, human and that they are capable of transforming themselves into -beasts, popular tradition dates from the age in which the Achaean -invaders credited the Pelasgian tribe of Centauri with magical powers -and in token of one special manifestation thereof surnamed them Pheres. - -In other districts, where the Callicantzari are represented as -demoniacal and not human and as monsters of mixed rather than of -variable shape, the popular memory goes back to a period somewhat less -remote, that period in which a new conception, encouraged perhaps -unwittingly by archaic art, became predominant in classical art and -literature, with the further result, we must suppose, that in the minds -of some of the common-folk too monsters of composite shape took the -place of the old human wonder-working Centaurs. - -And yet again in other districts, where the Christmas mummers in -the guise of Callicantzari are the modern representatives of those -worshippers of Dionysus who dressed themselves in the guise of -Satyrs or Sileni, the traditions which survive are mainly those of -a post-classical age in which the half-human half-animal comrades -of Dionysus lost their distinctive names and were enrolled in the -Centaurs’ ranks. - -Finally in the few districts where language at least testifies that -werewolves have also been numbered among the Callicantzari, popular -belief, though preserving much that is ancient, may have been modified -by a superstition, or rather by an actual form of insanity, which was -particularly prevalent in the Middle Ages. - -Such have been in different districts and periods the various -developments of a superstition which originated in the reputation for -sorcery enjoyed by a Pelasgian tribe inhabiting Mount Pelion in a -prehistoric age; and the complexity of modern traditions concerning the -Callicantzari is due to the fact that they do not all date from one -epoch but comprise the whole history of the Centaurs. - - -§ 14. GENII. - -The tale of deities is now almost told. There remain only a few -miscellaneous beings, identical or, at the least, comparable with the -creations of ancient superstition, who may be classed together under -the name of στοιχει̯ά[662] (anciently στοιχεῖα) or, to adopt the exact -Latin equivalent, _genii_. - -The Greek word, which in classical times served as a fair equivalent -for any sense of our word ‘elements,’ became from Plato’s time -onward a technical term in physics for those first beginnings of the -material world which Empedocles had previously called ῥιζώματα and -other philosophers ἀρχαί. The physical elements however were commonly -supposed to be haunted each by its own peculiar spirit, and hence -among the later Platonists the term στοιχεῖα became a technicality of -demonology rather than of natural science[663]. Every component part -of the visible universe was credited with an invisible _genius_, a -spirit whose being was in some way bound up with the existence of its -abode; and the term στοιχεῖον was transferred from the material to the -spiritual. - -But though the Platonists invented and introduced this new sense of -the word, its widespread acceptance was probably not their work, -but a curious accident resulting from misinterpretation of early -Christian writings. In St Paul’s Epistles[664] there occurs several -times a phrase, τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου, ‘worldly principles,’ which -was apparently a little too cultured for many of those who heard or -read it. It conveyed to their minds probably no more than ‘being -enslaved to weak and beggarly elements[665]’ conveys to the British -peasant of to-day. What more natural then than that the commentator -should accept the word in the sense given to it by the Platonists, -and that the common-folk who heard his exposition should readily -identify the στοιχεῖα whom they were bidden no longer to serve with the -lesser deities and local _genii_ to whose service they had long been -bound--to whose service moreover in spite of the supposed injunction -they have always continued faithful? The Church, they would have felt, -acknowledged the existence of these beings; ecclesiastical authority -endorsed ancestral tradition; and since such beings existed, it were -folly to ignore them; nay, since the Church declared that they were -powers of evil, it was but prudent to propitiate them, to appease their -malevolence. Thus στοιχεῖα came to be reckoned by every right-minded -peasant among his regular demoniacal _entourage_. And so they -remain--some of them hostile to man, some benevolent, but all alike -wild, uncontrollable spirits--so that St Paul’s phrase στοιχεῖα τοῦ -κόσμου even appears in one folk-song metaphorically as a description of -wild and wilful young men[666]. - -Thus the very origin of the term rendered it comprehensive in -meaning. Even the greater deities of ancient Greece were, in a sense, -local--the occupants of prescribed domains; Poseidon might logically -be called the _genius_ of the sea, Demeter of the corn-land; while -lesser deities were always associated with particular spots and often -unknown elsewhere. But mediaeval usage of the word στοιχεῖον and of -its derivatives tended to widen the meaning of the word yet more. -A verb στοιχειοῦν[667] was formed which properly meant to settle a -_genius_ in a particular place--either a beneficent _genius_ to act -as tutelary deity, or an evil _genius_ whose range of activity would -thus be circumscribed within known and narrower limits; but it was -used also in a larger sense to denote the exercise of any magical -powers. A corresponding adjective στοιχειωματικός[668] was applied -to anyone who had dealings with genii or familiar spirits, and more -vaguely to wizards in general. Thus the famous magician Apollonius -of Tyana is described as a ‘Pythagorean philosopher with power over -_genii_’ (φιλόσοφος Πυθαγόρειος στοιχειωματικός)[669]; and two out -of his many miracles may be taken as typical of his exercise of the -power. Once, it is recorded, he was summoned to Byzantium by the -inhabitants and there ‘he charmed (ἐστοιχείωσεν) snakes and scorpions -not to strike, mosquitoes totally to disappear, horses to be quiet -and not to be vicious either towards each other or towards man; -the river Lycus also he charmed (ἐστοιχείωσεν) not to flood and do -damage to Byzantium[670].’ In the first part of this passage the -verb is undoubtedly used in a very lax sense, for snakes, scorpions, -mosquitoes, and horses can hardly have been conceived to have their own -several _genii_ or guardian-spirits upon whom magic could be exercised; -but the charming of the river Lycus certainly suggests the restraining -of the στοιχεῖον or _genius_ of the river within settled bounds. This -stricter sense of the word however comes out more clearly in relation -to good _genii_ who were settled by magical charms in any given object -or place. Hence even the word στοιχεῖον reverted to a material sense, -and was sometimes employed to mean a ‘talisman[671]’--an object, that -is, in which resided a _genius_ capable of averting wars, pestilences, -and suchlike. _Genii_ of this kind, we are told, were settled by the -same Apollonius in the statues throughout Constantinople[672], where -the belief in their efficacy seems to have been generally accepted; -for there was to be seen there a cross in the middle of which was -‘the fortune of the city, namely a small chain having its ends locked -together and possessed of power to keep the city abounding in all -manner of goods and to give her victory ever over the nations (or -heathen), that they should have strength no more to approach and draw -nigh thereto, but should hold further aloof from her and retreat as -though they had been vanquished. And the key of the chain was buried -in the foundations of the pillars[673]’ on which the cross rested. -The locked chain was probably the magical means by which the tutelary -_genius_ of the city was kept at his post. - -But these wide and vague usages of the word and its derivatives have -now for the most part disappeared. Leo Allatius[674] still used -στοιχειωματικός in the sense of ‘magician,’ but I have not found it -in modern Greek. A remnant of the verb στοιχειοῦν[675] is seen in the -past participle στοιχειωμένος, which at the present day is applied in -its true sense to objects ‘haunted by _genii_.’ And the word στοιχειά, -though locally extended in scope so as to become in effect synonymous -with δαιμόνια or ἐξωτικά[676], comprising all non-Christian deities -irrespectively of their close connexion with particular natural -phenomena, still maintains in its more strict, and I think more -frequent, usage the meaning of _genii_. - -The term thus provided by the Platonists and popularised accidentally -by the Church is a convenience in the classification of demons; for the -ancient Greeks had no popular word which was exactly equivalent; they -had to choose between the vague term δαιμόνιον which implied nothing -of attachment to any place or object, and the special designation of -the particular kind of _genius_. The Latin tongue was in this respect -better supplied. It must not however be inferred that the introduction -of the useful term στοιχεῖα into the demonological nomenclature of -Greece marked any innovation in popular superstition. The Greeks no -less than the Romans had from time immemorial believed in _genii_. -That scene of the _Aeneid_[677], in which, while Aeneas is holding a -memorial feast in honour of his father, a snake appears and tastes -of the offerings and itself in turn is honoured with fresh sacrifice -as being either the genius of the place or an attendant of the hero -Anchises, is throughout Greek in tone; and the comment of Servius -thereupon, ‘There is no place without a _genius_, which usually -manifests itself in the form of a snake,’ revives a hundred memories -of sacred snakes tended in the temples or depicted on the tombs of -ancient Greece. Moreover several of the supernatural beings whom I have -already described, and whose identity with the creatures of ancient -superstition is established, are essentially _genii_. The Lamia is the -_genius_ of the darksome cave where she makes her lair; the Gorgon, of -the straits where she waylays her prey; and, most clearly of all, the -Dryads are the _genii_ of the trees which they inhabit. For the life -of each one of them is bound up with the life of the tree in which -she dwells; and still as in old time, so surely as the tree decays -away with age, her life too is done and ‘her soul leaves therewith the -light of the sun[678].’ The woodman of to-day therefore speaks with the -utmost fidelity to ancient tradition when he calls the trees where his -Nereids dwell στοιχειωμένα δέντρα, ‘trees haunted by _genii_’; such -innovation as there has been is in terminology only. - -One word of caution only is required before we proceed to the -consideration of various species of _genii_ not yet described. It must -not be assumed that all _genii_, on the analogy of the tree-nymphs, die -along with the dissolution of their dwelling-places; the existence of -the _genius_ and that of the haunted object are indeed always closely -and intimately united, but not necessarily in such a manner as to -preclude the migration of the _genius_ on the dissolution of its first -abode into a second. The converse proposition however, that any object -could enjoy prolonged existence after the departure from it of the -indwelling power, may be considered improbable. - -The _genii_ with whom I now propose to deal fall into five main -divisions according to their habitations. These are first buildings, -secondly water, thirdly mountains, caves, and desert places, fourthly -the air, fifthly human beings. - - * * * * * - -The _genii_ of buildings are universally acknowledged in Greece. The -forms in which they appear are various; this may partly be explained by -the belief that they possess the power of assuming different shapes at -will; but it is certain also that their normal shape is in some measure -determined by the nature of the building--house, church, or bridge--of -which each is the guardian. - -The _genius_ of a house appears almost always in the guise of a snake, -or, according to Leo Allatius[679], of a lizard or other reptile. It -is believed to have its permanent dwelling in the foundations, and -not infrequently some hole or crevice in a rough cottage-floor is -regarded as the entrance to its home. About such holes peasants have -been known to sprinkle bread-crumbs[680]; and I have been informed, -though I cannot vouch as an eye-witness for the statement, that on the -festival of that saint whose name the master of a house bears, he will -sometimes combine services to both his Christian and his pagan tutelary -deities, substituting wine for the water on which the oil of the sacred -lamp before the saint’s icon usually floats, and pouring a libation -of milk--for the older deities disapprove of intoxicants--about the -aperture which leads down to the subterranean home of the _genius_. If -it so happen that there is a snake in the hole and the milky deluge -compels it speedily to issue from its hiding-place, its appearance -in the house is greeted with a silent delight or with a few words of -welcome quietly spoken. For on no account must the ‘guardian of the -house,’ νοικοκύρης[681] or τόπακας[682], as it is sometimes called, be -frightened by any sound or sudden movement. Much less of course must -any physical hurt or violence be done to it; the consequences of such -action, even though it be due merely to inadvertence, are swift and -terrible; the house itself falls, or the member of the family who was -guilty of the outrage dies in the self-same way in which he slew the -snake[683]. - -These beliefs and customs are probably all of ancient date. -Theophrastus[684] notes how the superstitious man, if he sees a snake -in the house, sets up a shrine for it on the spot. The observation also -of such snakes was a recognised department of ‘domestic divination’ -(οἰκοσκοπική) on which one Xenocrates--not the disciple of Plato--wrote -a treatise[685]. They were probably known as οἰκουροί, ‘guardians -of the house’ (a name which is identical in meaning with the modern -νοικοκύρης), for it is thus at any rate that Hesychius[686] designates -the great snake which Herodotus[687] tells us was ‘guardian (φύλακα) -of the acropolis’ at Athens, and which, by leaving untouched the -honey-cake with which it was fed every month, proved to the Athenians, -when the second Persian invasion was threatening them, that their -tutelary deity had departed from the acropolis, and decided them -likewise to evacuate the city. Thus the few facts that are recorded -about this belief in antiquity accord so exactly with modern -observations, that from the minuter detail of the latter the outlines -of the former may safely be filled in. - -The _genii_ of churches most commonly are seen or heard in the form of -oxen--bulls for the most part[688], but also steers and heifers[689]. -They appear, like all _genii_, most frequently at night, and, according -to one authority, ‘are adorned with various precious stones which -diffuse a brightness such as to light the whole church.’ ‘They are -seldom harmful,’ continues the same writer[690]; ‘the few that are -so--called simply κακά--do not dare to make their abode within the -churches, but have their lairs close to them in order to do hurt to -church-goers.... Near Calamáta, on a mountain-side, there is a chapel -of ease dedicated to St George. The peasants narrate that at each -annual festival held there on April 23rd a _genius_ used to issue forth -from a hole close by and to devour one of the festal gathering. After -some years the good people, seeing that there was no remedy for this -annual catastrophe, decided to give up the festival. But a week before -the feast St George appeared to them all simultaneously in a dream, and -assured them that they should suffer no hurt at the festival, because -he had sealed up the monster. And in fact they went there and found the -hole closed by a massive stone, on which was imprinted the mark of a -horse’s hoof; for St George, willing that the hole should remain always -closed, had made his horse strike the stone with his hoof. Thenceforth -the saint has borne the surname Πεταλώτης (from πέταλον the ‘shoe’ or -‘hoof’ of a horse) and up to this day is shewn the hoof-mark upon a -stone.’ - -Harmless _genii_ however are more frequently assigned to churches, -exercising a kind of wardenship over them and taking an interest in -the parishioners. At Marousi, a village near Athens, there is a church -which is still believed to have a _genius_, in the form of a bull, -lurking in its foundations; and when any parishioner is about to die, -the bull is heard to bellow three times at midnight. A church in Athens -used to claim the same distinction, and the bellowing of the bull -there is said to have been heard within living memory at the death of -an old man named Lioules[691]. Other churches also in Athens, not to -be outdone, pretended to the possession of _genii_ in the shapes of a -snake, a black cock, and a woman, who all followed the bull’s example -and emitted their appropriate cries thrice at midnight as a presage of -similar events[692]. - -Why the _genii_ of churches in particular appear mostly as bulls, I -cannot determine. When the _genius_ of a river manifests itself in that -form, the connexion with antiquity is obvious; for river-gods, who _ex -vi termini_ are the _genii_ of the rivers whose name they share, were -constantly pourtrayed of old in the form of bulls. All that can be said -is that the type of _genius_ is old, though its localisation is new and -difficult to explain. - -The _genii_ of bridges cannot properly, I suppose, be distinguished -from the _genii_ of those rivers or ravines which the bridges span. -They are usually depicted as dragons or other formidable monsters, -and they are best known for the cruel toll which they exact when -the bridge is a-building. The original conception is doubtless that -of the river-god demanding a sacrifice, even of human life, in -compensation for men’s encroachment upon his domain. The most famous -of the folk-songs which celebrate such a theme is associated with ‘the -Bridge of Arta,’ but many versions[693] of it have been published -from different districts, and in some the names of other bridges are -substituted; in Crete the story is attached to the ‘shaking bridge’ -over a mountain torrent near Canea[694]; in the Peloponnese to ‘the -Lady’s bridge’ over the river Ladon[695]; in the neighbourhood of -Thermopylae to a bridge over the river Helláda[696]; in the island of -Cos to the old bridge of Antimachia[697]. The song, in the version[698] -which I select, runs thus: - - ‘Apprentices three-score there were, and craftsmen five and forty, - For three long years they laboured sore to build the bridge of Arta; - All the day long they builded it, each night it fell in ruin. - The craftsmen fall to loud lament, th’ apprentices to weeping: - “Alas, alas for all our toil, alack for all our labour, - That all day long we’re building it, at night it falls in ruin.” - Then from the rightmost arch thereof the demon gave them answer: - “An ye devote not human life, no wall hath sure foundation; - And now devote not orphan-child, nor wayfarer, nor stranger, - But give your master-craftsman’s wife, his wife so fair and gracious, - That cometh late toward eventide, that cometh late toward supper.” - The master-craftsman heard it well, and fell as one death-stricken; - A word anon he writes and bids the nightingale to carry: - “Tarry to don thy best array, tarry to come to supper, - Tarry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.” - The nightingale heard not aright, and carried other message: - “Hurry to don thy best array, hurry to come to supper, - Hurry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.” - Lo, there she came, now full in view, along the dust-white roadway; - The master-craftsman her espied, and all his heart was breaking; - E’en from afar she bids them hail, e’en from afar she greets them: - “Gladness and health, my masters all, apprentices and craftsmen! - What ails the master-craftsman then that he is so distressèd?” - “Nought ails save only that his ring by the first arch is fallen; - Who shall go in and out again his ring thence to recover?” - “Master, be not so bitter-grieved, I will go fetch it for thee; - Let me go in and out again thy ring thence to recover.” - Not yet had she made full descent, not halfway had descended; - “Draw up the rope, prithee goodman, draw up the cable quickly, - For all the world is upside down, and nought have I recovered.” - One plies the spade to cover her, another shovels mortar, - The master-craftsman lifts a stone, and hurls it down upon her. - “Alas, alas for this our doom, alack for our sad fortune! - Three sisters we, and for all three a cruel fate was written. - One went to building Doúnavi, the next to build Avlóna, - And I, the last of all the three, must build the bridge of Arta. - Even as trembles my poor heart, so may the bridge-way tremble, - Even as my fair tresses fall, so fall all they that cross it!” - “Nay, change, girl, prithee change thy speech, and utter other presage; - Thou hast one brother dear to thee, and haply he may pass it.” - Then changèd she her speech withal, and uttered other presage: - “As iron now is my poor heart, as iron stand the bridge-way, - As iron are my tresses fair, iron be they that cross it! - For I’ve a brother far away, and haply he may pass it.”’ - -But while the most famous examples of sacrifice to _genii_ are -connected with bridges, the custom in a less criminal form than that -which the folk-songs celebrate is common throughout Greece to-day. In -building a house or any other edifice, the question of propitiating the -_genius_ already in possession of the site and of inducing it to become -the guardian of the building is duly considered. Sacrifice is done. The -peace-offering, according to the importance of the building and the -means of the future owner, may consist of an ox, a ram, a he-goat, or -a cock (or, less commonly, of a hen with her brood[699]), preferably -of black colour, as were in old time victims designed for gods beneath -the earth. The selected animal is in Acarnania and Aetolia[700] taken -to the site, and there its throat is cut so that the blood may fall on -the foundation-stone, beneath which the body is then interred. In some -other places[701] it suffices to mark a cross upon the stone with the -victim’s blood. In the same district the practice of taking auspices -from the victim--from the shoulder-blade in the case of a ram and from -the breast-bone in the case of a cock--is occasionally combined with -the sacrifice, but is not essential to the ceremony. - -But animals, though they are the only victims actually slaughtered upon -the spot, are not the only form of peace-offering. Even at the present -day when, added to the power of the law, a sense of humanity, or a fear -of being pronounced ‘uncivilised,’ tends to deter the peasantry even of -the most outlying districts from actually satisfying the more savage -instincts of hereditary superstition, there still exists a strong -feeling that a human victim is preferable to an animal for ensuring -the stability of a building. Fortunately therefore for the builder’s -peace of mind, the principles of sympathetic magic offer a compromise -between actual murder and total disregard of the traditional rite. -It suffices to obtain from a man or woman--an enemy for choice but, -failing that, ‘out of philanthropy’ as a Greek authority puts it, any -aged person whose term of life is well-nigh done--some such object as -a hair or the paring of a nail, or again a shred of his clothing or a -cast-off shoe, or it may be a thread or stick[702] marked with the -measure either of the footprint or of the full stature of the person, -and to bury it beneath the foundation-stone of the new edifice. By this -proceeding a human victim is devoted to the _genius_ of the site, and -will die within the year as surely as if an image of him were moulded -in wax and a needle run through its heart. Another variation of the -same rite consists in enticing some passer-by to the spot and laying -the foundation-stone upon his shadow. In Santorini I myself was once -saved from such a fate by the rough benevolence of a stranger who -dragged me back from the place where I was standing and adjured me to -watch the proceedings from the other side of the trench where my shadow -could not fall across the foundations. Nor are the invited guests -immune; unenviable therefore is the position of those persons who are -officially required to assist at the laying of the foundation-stones of -churches and other public buildings. The demarch (or mayor) of Agrinion -informed me that, according to the belief of the common-folk in the -neighbourhood, his four immediate predecessors in office had all fallen -victims to this their public duty; and he described to me the concern -and consternation of his own women-folk when he himself had recently -braved the ordeal. He honestly allowed too that he had kept his shadow -clear of the dangerous spot. - -So much importance is attached to these foundation-ceremonies that the -Church has provided a special office to be read alike for cathedral or -for cottage; and the priest who attends for this purpose is sometimes -induced to pronounce a blessing on the animal that is to be sacrificed. -This however is the more expensive rite; the victim has to be bought, -and the priest expects a fee for blessing it; whereas the immolation of -a shadow-victim costs nothing, is more efficacious as being equivalent -to a human sacrifice, and provides an excellent means for removing an -enemy with impunity. - -The sacrificial ceremony is also sometimes performed on other occasions -than those of the laying of foundation-stones. In Athens a precept of -popular wisdom enjoins the slaughtering of a black cock when a new -quarry is opened[703]; and an interesting account is given by Bent[704] -of a similar scene at the launching of a ship in Santorini. ‘When they -have built a new vessel, they have a grand ceremony at the launching, -or benediction, as they call it here, at which the priest officiates; -and the crowd eagerly watch, as she glides into the water, the position -she takes, for an omen is attached to this. It is customary to -slaughter an ox, a lamb or a dove on these occasions, according to the -wealth of the proprietor and the size of the ship, and with the blood -to make a cross on the deck. After this the captain jumps off the bows -into the sea with all his clothes on, and the ceremony is followed by -a banquet and much rejoicing.’ Here it is reasonable to suppose that -the captain by jumping into the sea goes through the form of offering -himself as a sacrifice to the _genius_ of the sea, and that the animal -actually slaughtered is a surrogate victim in his stead. - -The strength of these superstitions to-day, as gauged by the shifts -and compromises to which the peasants resort in order to satisfy -their scruples, goes far to guarantee the historical accuracy of -such ballads as ‘the Bridge of Arta.’ Not of course that each of the -numerous versions with all its local colouring is to be taken as -evidence of human sacrifice in each place named; exactitude of detail -cannot be claimed for them. But as a faithful picture of the beliefs -and customs prevalent not more perhaps than two or three centuries ago -they deserve full credence. Both the wide dispersion of the several -versions, and also the skill with which in each of them the action of -the master-builder evokes feelings not of aversion but rather of pity -for a man of whom religious duty demanded the sacrifice of his own -wife, furnish plain proof of the domination which the superstition in -its most gruesome form once exercised; and the intentions of the modern -peasants, if not their acts, testify to the same overwhelming dread of -_genii_. - -That the ceremonies which I have described are in general of the nature -of sacrifices to _genii_ is beyond question. In the version of ‘the -Bridge of Arta’ which I have translated, both the _genius_ and the -victim whom he demands appear as _dramatis personae_. Again, in some -districts the word ‘sacrifice’ (θυσιό[705] or θυσία[706]) is actually -still applied to the rite. Finally, though the victims are of various -kinds and the forms in which a genius may appear equally various, -the distinction between the two is as a rule kept clear; cases of a -single species of animal serving for both _genius_ and victim--of the -_genius_ for example appearing as a cock or of the chosen victim being -a snake--are extremely rare. - -Confusion of the two nevertheless does occur; the original _genius_ -of the site is sometimes forgotten, and the victim is conceived to be -slain and buried in order that from the under-world it may exercise a -guardianship over the building which is its tomb. Thus in one version -of ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ inferior in many respects to that which I have -translated, the complaint of the master-craftsman’s wife contains the -line - - τρεῖς ἀδερφούλαις εἴμασταν, ταὶς τρεῖς στοιχειὰ μᾶς βάλαν[707], - ‘Three sisters we, and all the three they took for guardian-demons.’ - -Probably the same confusion of thought was responsible for the -representation of the _genius_ of a church in Athens in the shape -of a cock, which is the commonest kind of victim; and possibly too -the bulls which are so frequently the guardians of churches were -originally the victims considered most suitable for the foundation of -such important edifices. This error of belief has undoubtedly been -facilitated by the use of a word which in its mediaeval meanings has -already been discussed--the verb στοιχειόνω. This, as I have pointed -out, meant strictly ‘to provide (a place or object) with a _genius_.’ -But in modern usage it can take an accusative of the victim devoted -to a _genius_ no less than of the place provided with a _genius_. -In Zacynthos and Cephalonia, says Bernhard Schmidt[708], the phrase -στοιχειόνω ἀρνί, for example, meaning ‘I devote a lamb’ to the -_genius_, is in regular use; and so too in the above rendering of ‘the -Bridge of Arta,’ the phrase which I have translated ‘an ye devote not -human life’ is in the Greek ἂν δὲ στοιχειώσετ’ ἄνθρωπο. Now verbs of -this form are in both ancient and modern Greek usually causative. -The ancient δηλόω and modern δηλόνω mean ‘I make (an object) clear’ -(δῆλος): the ancient χρυσόω and modern χρυσόνω mean ‘I make (an object) -gold’ (χρυσός). Similarly στοιχειόνω is readily taken to mean ‘I -make (an animal or person) the _genius_’ (στοιχεῖον) of a place. If -therefore this word continued to be applied to the rite of slaughtering -an animal at foundation-ceremonies in any place where the true purport -of the custom, as often happens, had been forgotten, language itself -would at once suggest that erroneous interpretation of the custom of -which we have seen examples; the victim would be raised to the rank of -_genius_. - -This development of modern superstition supplies a clue for tracing the -evolution of ancient Greek religion, which has hitherto been missed -by those who have dealt with the subject[709]. They have generally -compared with the modern Greek superstition similar beliefs and -customs prevalent throughout the Balkans and even beyond them, and -have thence inferred that the practice of sacrificing to the _genii_ -of sites selected for building was of Slavonic importation. The wide -distribution of the superstition in the Balkans, especially among -the Slavonic peoples, is a fact; but the inference goes too far. To -Slavonic influence I impute the recrudescence of the superstition in -its most barbarous form, involving human sacrifice, during the Middle -Ages. Ancient history, even ancient mythology, contains no story so -suggestive of barbarity as one brief statement made by Suidas: ‘At St -Mamas there was a large bridge consisting of twelve arches (for there -was much water coming down), and there a brazen dragon was set up, -because it was thought that a dragon inhabited the place; and there -many maidens were sacrificed[710].’ The date of the events to which the -passage refers cannot be ascertained; but I certainly suspect it to be -subsequent to the Slavonic invasion of Greece. Yet even so the Slavs -did not initiate a new custom but merely stimulated the native belief -that _genii_ required sacrifice in compensation for the building of any -edifice on their domains. This belief dated from the Homeric age--nay, -was already old when the Achaeans built their great wall with lofty -towers, a bulwark for them and their ships against the men of Ilium. - -‘Thus,’ we read, ‘did they labour, even the long-haired Achaeans; but -the gods sitting beside Zeus that wieldeth the lightning gazed in -wonder on the mighty work of the bronze-clad Achaeans. And to them -did Poseidon the earth-shaker open speech: “Father Zeus, is there now -one mortal on the boundless earth, that will henceforth declare unto -immortals his mind and purpose? Seest thou not that contrariwise the -long-haired Achaeans have built a wall to guard their ships and driven -a trench about it, and have not offered unto the gods fair sacrifice? -Verily their wall shall be famed far as Dawn spreads her light; and -that which I with Phoebus Apollo toiled to build for the hero Laomedon -will men forget.” And unto him spake Zeus that gathereth the clouds, -sore-vexed: “Fie on thee, thou earth-shaker whose sway is wide, for -this thy word. Well might this device of men dismay some other god -lesser than thou by far in work and will; but thou verily shalt be -famed far as Dawn spreads her light. Go to; when the long-haired -Achaeans be gone again with their ships unto their own native land, -break thou down their wall and cast it all into the sea and cover again -the vast shore with sand, that so the Achaeans’ great wall may be wiped -out from thy sight[711].”’ And later in the _Iliad_ we read of the -fulfilment; how that the rivers of the Trojan land were marshalled and -led by Poseidon, his trident in his hands, to the assault of the wall -that ‘had been fashioned without the will of the gods and could no long -time endure[712].’ - -The whole passage finds its best commentary in modern superstition. -Poseidon, though a great god, is the local _genius_; to him belongs the -shore where the Greek ships are assembled, to him too the land where -he had built the town of Ilium; to him therefore were due sacrifices -for the building of the wall. But the god whose fame is known far as -Dawn spreads her light deserves the rebuke administered by Zeus for his -pettiness of spirit. An ordinary local _genius_, ‘some god far lesser -than he in work and will,’ might justly wax wrathful at the neglect -of his more limited prerogatives. Yet even so the wall was doomed to -endure no long time. Then as now the divine law ran, ‘An ye devote not -hecatombs, no wall hath sure foundation.’ - -In this passage there is of course no suggestion of a local _genius_ in -animal shape; the anthropomorphic tendency of Homeric religion was too -strong to admit of that. But since we know from Theophrastus’ sketch -of the superstitious man and from other sources that in the classical -age _genii_ of houses and temples were believed to appear in the form -of snakes, we may without hesitation assign the same belief to earlier -ages. Such a superstition could not in the nature of things have sprung -up after an anthropomorphic conception of the gods dominated all -religion, but must necessarily have been a survival from pre-classical -and pre-Homeric folklore. - -But, though Homer speaks of the _genius_ only as a ‘lesser god’ without -further description, he implies clearly that the present custom of -doing sacrifice to such a being for the foundation of any building -was then in existence. Did the sacrifice ever involve human victims? -A positive and certain answer cannot, I suppose, be made; but bearing -in mind the many ancient traditions of human sacrifice in Greece and -even the occasional continuance of the practice in the most civilised -and enlightened age[713] I cannot doubt it. I suspect that, if we -could obtain an earlier version of the story of Iphigenia than has -come down to us, we should find that the wrath of Artemis had no part -in it, but that human sacrifice was offered to the Winds or other -_genii_ of the air--that the ‘maiden’s blood’ was, in the words of -Aeschylus, ‘a sacrifice to stay the winds[714],’ ‘a charm to lull the -Thracian blasts[715],’ that and nothing more. But a story still more -strongly evidential of the custom is told by Pausanias[716]. In the -war between Messenia and Sparta, when the Messenians had been reduced -to extremities, ‘they decided to evacuate all their many towns in the -open country and to establish themselves on Mount Ithome. Now there was -there a town of no great size, which Homer, they say, includes in the -Catalogue--“Ithome steep as a ladder.” In this town they established -themselves, extending its ancient circuit so as to provide a stronghold -large enough for all. And apart even from the fortifications the place -was strong; for Ithome is as high as any mountain in the Peloponnese -and, where the town lay, was particularly inaccessible. They determined -also to send an envoy to Delphi,’ who brought them back the following -oracle: - - A maiden pure unto the nether powers, - Chosen by lot, of lineage Aepytid, - Ye shall devote in sacrifice by night. - But if ye fail thereof, take ye a maid - E’en from a man of other race as victim, - An he shall give her willingly to slay. - -And the story goes on to tell how in the end Aristodemus devoted his -own daughter, and she became the accepted victim. - -Here Pausanias, it will be noticed, does not give any reason for the -sacrifice being required. But three points in his narrative are highly -suggestive. The story of the sacrifice follows immediately upon the -mention of the building of new fortifications--and the foundation of -what was to be practically a new city was eminently a question on which -to consult the Delphic oracle; the powers to whom sacrifice is ordered -are designated merely as νέρτεροι δαίμονες, the nearest equivalent -in ancient Greek to _genii_; and the time of the sacrifice is to be -night, when, according to modern belief, _genii_ are most active. If -then modern superstition can ever teach us anything about ancient -religion, it supplies the clue here. The maiden was to be sacrificed -to the _genii_ of Mount Ithome to ensure the stability of the new -fortifications. - -Now if my interpretation of this story is right and the practice of -human sacrifice to _genii_ was known in ancient Greece, the transition -from the worship of _genii_ in the form of snakes or dragons to the -worship of tutelary heroes or gods in human likeness is readily -explained on the analogy of a similar transition in modern belief. -What was originally the victim was mistaken for the genius. The same -confusion of thought, by which, in one version of ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ -the _genius_ in person demands a human victim and yet afterwards the -victim speaks of herself as becoming the _genius_ of the bridge, -can be detected even in the oracle given to the Messenians. ‘If ye -fail to find a maid of the blood of the Aepytidae,’ it said, ‘ye may -take the daughter of a man of other lineage, provided that he give -her willingly for sacrifice.’ Why the condition? Why ‘willingly’ -only? Because, I think, even the Delphic oracle halted between two -opinions--between the conception of the maiden as a victim to appease -angry _genii_ and the belief that the dead girl herself would become -the guardian-_daemon_ of the stronghold. - -Let us read another story from Pausanias[717]: ‘At the base of Mount -Cronius, on the north side (of the Altis at Olympia), between the -treasuries and the mountain, there is a sanctuary of Ilithyia, and in -it Sosipolis, a native _daemon_ of Elis, is worshipped. To Ilithyia -they give the surname “Olympian,” and elect a priestess to minister to -her year by year. The old woman too who waits upon Sosipolis is bound -by Elean custom to chastity in her own person, and brings water for the -bathing of the god and serves him with barley-cakes kneaded with honey. -In the front part of the temple, which is of double construction, is -an altar of Ilithyia, and entrance thereto is public; but in the inner -part Sosipolis is worshipped, and only the woman who serves the god may -enter, and she only with her head and face covered by a white veil. -And while she does so, maidens and married women wait in the temple of -Ilithyia and sing a hymn; incense of all sorts is also offered to him, -but no libations of wine. An oath also at the sanctuary of Sosipolis is -taken on very great occasions. - -‘It is said that when the Arcadians had once invaded Elis, and the -Eleans lay encamped opposite to them, a woman came to the generals of -the Eleans, with a child at her breast, and said that, though she was -the mother of the child, she offered it, bidden thereto by dreams, -to fight on the side of the Eleans. And those in command, trusting -the woman’s tale, put the child in the forefront of the army naked. -Then the Arcadians came to the attack, and lo! straightway the child -was changed into a serpent. And the Arcadians, dismayed at the sight, -turned to flight, and were pressed by the Eleans, who won a signal -victory and gave to the god the name of Sosipolis (“saviour of the -state”). And at the place where the serpent disappeared in the ground -after the battle they set up the sanctuary; and along with him they -took to worshipping Ilithyia, because she was the goddess who had -brought the boy into the world.’ - -Is this story complete, or did Pausanias’ informants suppress one -material point out of shame? How came a mortal infant to assume the -form of a serpent which is proper only to apparitions from the lower -world? The missing episode is, I believe, the sacrifice of the child, -which having been offered willingly became after death a _daemon_ -friendly to the Eleans and fought, in the form of a serpent, on their -side. Human sacrifice before a battle was not unknown in ancient -Greece[718], but by Pausanias’ time the inhabitants of Elis might well -have hesitated to impute to their forefathers so barbarous a custom, -and have modified the story by omitting even that incident which alone -could make it harmonise with ancient religious ideas[719]. - -A similar view has been taken of another story of Pausanias[720], also -from Elis. ‘Oxylus (the king of Elis), they say, had two sons Aetolus -and Laias. Aetolus died before his parents and was buried by them in a -tomb which they caused to be made exactly in the gate of the road to -Olympia and the sanctuary of Zeus. The cause of their burying him thus -was an oracle which forbade the corpse to be either within or without -the city. And up to my time the governor of the gymnasium still makes -annual offerings to Aetolus as a hero.’ Commenting on this passage Dr -Frazer[721] says, ‘The spirit of the dead man was probably expected -to guard the gate against foes.... It is possible that in this story -of the burial of Aetolus in the gate we have a faded tradition of an -actual human sacrifice offered when the gate was built.’ Certainly the -facts that Aetolus was young and that he was not head of the royal -house make his elevation to the rank of tutelary hero after death -difficult to understand on any other hypothesis; and it should be -noted too that the oracle, in obedience to which his tomb was made in -the gateway, probably came, as the preceding context suggests, from -Delphi, that same shrine which was responsible for the sacrifice of -Aristodemus’ daughter in the Messenian war. - -Thus there is some probability that in ancient, as in modern, Greece -the _genius_ was sometimes superseded by the victim offered to him, -but bequeathed to his successor something of his own character. The -victim, now become a hero, manifested himself in the old-established -guise of a serpent, and, if we may judge from the case of Sosipolis at -Olympia, continued to be fed with honey-cakes, the same food which had -been considered the appropriate diet for the original snake-_genii_ -such as those dwelling in the Erechtheum. But, when once the transition -of worship was well advanced, the power to assume serpent-form was -naturally extended to all tutelary heroes and even to gods; to have -been sacrificed was no longer the sole qualifying condition. The hero -Cychreus went to the help of the Athenians at Salamis in the form -of a serpent[722]. Two serpents were the incarnations of the heroes -Trophonius and Agamedes at the oracle of Lebadea[723]. Amphiaraus was -represented by a snake on the coins of Oropus. An archaic relief of the -sixth century B.C. in the Museum of Sparta, to which Miss Harrison -has recently called attention, represents ‘a male and a female figure -seated side by side on a great throne-like chain.... Worshippers of -diminutive size approach with offerings--a cock and some object that -may be a cake, an egg, or a fruit.... It is clear that we have ... -representations of the dead, but the dead conceived of as half-divine, -as heroized--hence their large size as compared with that of their -worshipping descendants. They are κρείττονες, “Better and Stronger -Ones.” The artist of the relief is determined to make his meaning -clear. Behind the chair, equal in height to the seated figures, is a -great curled snake, but a snake strangely fashioned. From the edge of -his lower lip hangs down a long beard, a decoration denied by nature. -The intention is clear; he is a _human_ snake, the vehicle, the -incarnation of the dead man’s ghost[724].’ - -In this relief the offerings depicted also are, I think, no less -instructive than the bearded snake. If we may suppose that the -somewhat indeterminate object, cake, egg, or fruit, was intended for a -honey-cake, the offerings combine that which was the accustomed food of -snake-_genii_ in ancient times with a cock, the victim most frequently -sacrificed to the same _genii_ at the present day. - -Of gods, Asclepius, perhaps because he began life as a hero, was most -frequently represented in serpent-form. It was in this guise that he -came to Sicyon, Epidaurus Limera, and Rome[725]; and in later times -Lucian tells a humorous tale of how an impostor effected by trickery a -supposed re-incarnation of Asclepius in snake-form before the very eyes -of the people out of whose superstitions he made a living and indeed -a fortune[726]. Here again, if we may argue from modern custom, the -serpent-form carried with it the traditional offering of a ‘cock to -Asclepius.’ But other gods too had sometimes their attendant snakes, -as had Asclepius at Epidaurus; and in every case it is likely that the -particular god had originally dispossessed a primitive snake-_genius_, -but inherited from him and retained for a time in local cults the -form of a snake; until, as the conception of the gods became more and -more anthropomorphic, the snake ceased to be a manifestation of the -god himself and became merely his minister or his symbol. Even Zeus -himself, under the title of Meilichios, is proved by two reliefs found -at the Piraeus to have been figured for a time by his worshippers as a -snake[727]. - -In many such cases doubtless the substitution of the cult of a new -and named god for that of a primitive and nameless _genius_ explains -adequately the incomer’s inheritance and temporary retention of the -snake-form; but in the case of tutelary heroes, above all, the analogy -of modern folk-lore, in which the human victim is sometimes erroneously -elevated to the rank of guardian-_genius_, supplies, I think, the right -clue to the process by which in ancient times the snake came to be the -recognised incarnation of the spirits of dead men and heroes. - - * * * * * - -The _genii_ of water, to whom we now turn, are sometimes imagined in -the form of dragons or of bulls, but more often by far in human or -quasi-human shape. An exception to the general rule must of course be -made in the case of the _genii_ of bridges, if, as I suppose, they were -originally identical with the _genii_ of those rivers which the bridges -span; for these, as I have said, are usually dragons. But if in this -case there is a difference in outward appearance, there is a general -agreement at any rate in characteristics; for the _genii_ of water are -no less hostile to man than those who demand human sacrifice as the -price of their permission to build a bridge. - -At Kephalóvryso in Aetolia the _genii_ of a river were described to me -as red, grinning devils who might often be seen sitting in the bed of -the stream beneath the water. They were believed to mate with _Lamiae_ -who infested several caves on the bank of the river; and together these -two kinds of monster would feed on the bodies of men whom they had -dragged into the river and drowned. - -But far more frequently the _genii_ of water, and especially of wells, -appear in the form of Arabs (Ἀράπηδες), and may be seen sometimes -smoking long pipes in the depths. They have the power of transforming -themselves into any shape. At one time they assume dragon-form and -terrorise a whole country side; at another they adopt the guise of a -lovely maiden weeping beside a well, and, on pretence of having dropped -into it a ring, induce gallant and unwary men to descend to their -death[728]; for when once the Arab has entrapped them in his well he -feeds upon them or smokes them in lieu of tobacco in his pipe. - -How Arabs have come to find a place among the _genii_ of modern Greece -is a question which must be answered in one of two ways. Either during -the Turkish domination of Greece the Arab slaves, who were to be found -in every wealthy house, were suspected by the Christian population of -possessing magical powers, and from being magicians were elevated, -as the _Striges_ often were in mediaeval and modern Greece, to the -rank of demons; or else they are another example of the transmutation -of victims into _genii_. For several reasons I incline to the latter -explanation. First, these Arabs are most commonly associated with -wells, and for the sinking of a well, no less than for the erection -of a building or the opening of a quarry, a victim would naturally be -required. Secondly, an animal victim is for choice of a black or dark -colour, and, by parity of reasoning, among human victims an Arab (or -other man of dark colour, for the word Arab is used popularly of all -such) would be preferable to a white man. Thirdly, it was reported -from Zacynthos only a generation ago that a strong feeling still -existed there in favour of sacrificing a Mohammedan or a Jew at the -foundation of important bridges and other buildings[729]; and there -is a legend of a black man having been actually immured in the bridge -of an aqueduct near Lebadea in Boeotia[730]. Lastly, I heard from a -shepherd belonging to Chios the story of a house in that island haunted -by beings whom he called indifferently Arabs[731] and _vrykólakes_. He -himself had been mad for eight months from the shock of seeing them, -and four of his friends who visited the house to discover the cause of -his disaster were similarly afflicted. The demons were finally laid to -rest by an old man driving a flock of goats through the house[732]. Now -_vrykólakes_, with whom I shall deal at length later on, are persons -resuscitated after death who issue from their graves; and among those -who are predisposed to such reappearance are men who have met with a -violent death. The identification therefore of Arabs with _vrykólakes_ -in this story suggests that an Arab victim sacrificed at the foundation -of some building might become the _genius_ of it--not in this case the -beneficent guardian of it, but owing to his violent death a malicious -and hurtful monster. On this evidence I incline to the view that the -Arabs who now form a class of _genii_ were originally the human victims -preferred at the sinking of wells--a piece of engineering, it must be -remembered, of first-rate importance in a country as dry as Greece--and -that, when once these _genii_ had become associated with water, the -popular imagination soon assigned them to rivers and natural springs no -less than to wells. - -The _genii_ of rivers sometimes appear also in the shape of bulls, -though as I have already remarked this type of _genius_ is far more -commonly associated with churches. Possibly in some cases the fact -that the church was built in the neighbourhood of some sacred spring, -whose miraculous virtue was of older date and repute than Christianity, -first caused the transference; but at any rate some rivers still retain -this type of _genius_, the type under which river gods were regularly -represented in ancient times. In this connexion a story entitled -‘the ox-headed man[733]’ and narrated to me at Goniá in the island of -Santorini deserves mention. - -A princess and a poor girl once agreed that when they were married, if -of their respective first-born the one should be a boy and the other -a girl, these two should be married. Now, as it chanced, princess -and peasant-maid were both wed on the same day, but for a long time -both remained childless. Then at last they prayed to the Panagia, the -princess for a child even if it were but a girl, the peasant for a son -even if he were but half a man; and their prayers were answered; for -the poor woman bore a son with the head of an ox, while the princess -was blest with a beautiful daughter. - -When the two children were grown up, the poor woman went one day to -claim the fulfilment of the agreement, and the princess, or rather now -the queen, went to ask her husband. He however objected to the suitor -on the grounds of personal appearance, and stipulated that he should at -least first perform certain feats to prove his worthiness. The first -task was to build a palace of pearls, the second to plant the highest -mountain of Santorini (μέσο βουνί, ‘central mountain,’ as it is locally -called) with trees, and the third to border all the roads of the island -with flowers. For each labour one single night was the limit of time. -But the ox-headed man was equal to the work, and having accomplished -it came riding on a white horse to claim his bride. The king however, -who had imposed these three labours in full assurance that the unseemly -suitor would fail, now flatly refused to abide by his promise, and the -man retired disconsolate and disappeared none knew whither. - -The young princess was much affected at the unfair treatment of her -lover, and each day she grew more and more melancholy. But finally she -hit upon a means of cheering herself. She proposed to her father that -they should leave the palace and start an inn, not for money, but for -the sake of the amusement to be derived from the stories and witty -sayings of the guests. The king consented, and the inn was set up. - -Now one day a boy who had been fishing dropped his rod into the river, -and having dived in after it came to a flight of stairs at the bottom. -Having walked down forty steps, he entered a large room where sat the -ox-headed man, who talked with him and told him that he was waiting -there for a princess who came not. The boy then returned without hurt, -and on his way home had to pass the inn. Having turned in there, he -was asked by the princess to tell her something amusing. He replied -however that he knew no stories, but would recount to her an adventure -which had just befallen him. In the course of the story the princess -recognised that what the boy called the _genius_ of the river (τὸ -στοιχειὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ) could be no other than her lover, and having been -straightway conducted to the spot, found and married the ox-headed man, -and in his palace under the river lived happily ever afterwards--“but” -(as Greek fairy-tales often end) “we here much more happily.” - -It is curious that Santorini of all places should be the source of -this story; for the island does not possess a stream. Locally however -certain gullies by which the island is intersected are known as rivers -(ποταμοί)[734], and after unusually heavy rain they might perhaps form -torrents; at any rate one known as ‘the evil river’ (ὁ κακὸς ποταμός) -is frequently mentioned in popular traditions as a real river. Possibly -the tradition is accurate; for the volcanic nature of the island -would readily account for the disappearance of a single stream[735]. -But the importance of the story lies in the mention of an ox-headed -man as _genius_ of a river. The fact that he is made the son of a -peasant-woman need not concern us; the first part of the story is -probably adapted from some other folk-tale with a view to account for -the wooing of a princess by so ill-favoured a suitor. In the latter -part we have a more ancient _motif_, the wedding of a mortal maid with -a river-god. If only it were mentioned in this tale that, besides the -power of performing miraculous tasks, the bull-headed man had the -faculty, which modern _genii_ possess, of transforming himself into -other shapes, we should have a complete parallel (save in the princess’ -willingness to wed) with the wooing of Deianira by the river-god -Achelous; “for he,” says she, “in treble shapes kept seeking me from -my sire, coming now in true bull-form, now as a coiling serpent of -gleaming hues, anon with human trunk and head of ox[736].” The _genii_ -of rivers have not, it would seem, changed their forms and attributes, -save for the admission of Arabs to their number, from the age of -Sophocles to this day. - - * * * * * - -The third class of _genius_ which we have to notice is terrestrial, -inhabiting mountains, rocks, caves, and any other grim and desolate -places. These _genii_ are the most frequent of all, and are known -as dragons. Not of course that all dragons are terrestrial; the -dragon-form has already been mentioned among the forms proper to the -_genii_ of springs and wells, and also as a shape assumed at will by -the Arabs who more frequently occupy those haunts. But terrestrial -_genii_, in whatever place they make their lair--and no limit can be -set to such places--are far most commonly pictured as dragons; and -I have therefore preferred to speak of the dragons in general here, -rather than among the _genii_ of either buildings or water. - -The term δράκος or δράκοντας[737] indicates to the Greek peasant a -monster of no more determinate shape than does the word ‘dragon’ to -ourselves. The Greek word however differs, and has always differed, -from the English form of it in one respect, namely that it is often -employed in a strict and narrow sense to denote a ‘serpent’ as -distinguished from a small snake (in modern Greek φίδι, i.e. ὀφίδιον, -the diminutive of the ancient ὄφις). On the other hand, a Greek -‘dragon,’ in the widest sense of the term, is sometimes distinctly -anthropomorphic in popular stories, and is made to boil kettles and -drink coffee without any sense of impropriety. It is in fact only from -the context of a story that it is possible to determine in what shape -the dragon is imagined; in general it is neither flesh nor fowl nor -good red devil; heads and tails, wings and legs, teeth and talons, are -assigned to it in any number and variety; it breathes air and fire -indifferently; it sleeps with its eyes open and sees with them shut; -it makes war on men and love to women; it roars or it sings, and -there is little to choose between the two performances; for the lapse -of centuries, it seems, has in no wise mellowed its voice[738]. The -stories of the common-folk are full of these monsters’ savagery and -treachery[739]; for it is the dragons, above all other supernatural -beings, who provide the wandering hero of the fairy-tales with -befitting adventures and tests of prowess. - -A common _motif_ of such stories is provided by the belief that dragons -are the guardians of buried treasure. When a man in a dream has had -revealed to him the whereabouts of buried treasure, his right course -is to go to the spot without breathing to anyone a hint of his secret, -and there to slay a cock or other animal such as is offered at the -laying of foundation-stones, in order to appease the _genius_ (which -is almost always a dragon, though an Arab is occasionally substituted) -before he ventures to disturb the soil. This is the very superstition -which Artemidorus had in mind when he interpreted dreams about dragons -to denote ‘wealth and riches, because dragons make their fixed abode -over treasures[740].’ Having complied with these conditions the digger -may hope to bring gold to light; but if he have previously betrayed to -anyone his expectations or have failed to propitiate the dragon, the -old proverb is fulfilled, ἄνθρακες ὁ θησαυρός[741], his treasure turns -out to be but ashes (κάρβουνα). - -The guardianship likewise of gardens wherein flow ‘immortal waters’ or -grows ‘immortal fruit’ is the province of dragons. In Tenos a typical -story concerning them is told in several versions[742]. The hero of -them all bears the name of Γιαννάκης or ‘Jack’ (a familiar diminutive -of Ἰωάννης, ‘John’)--a name commonly given in Greek fairy-tales to the -performer of Heraclean feats. The hero who, after discovering that his -youngest sister is a Strigla, has fled with his mother, the queen, from -the palace where they were in imminent danger of being devoured[743], -comes to a castle occupied by forty dragons. The prince straightway -attacks them single-handed and slays, so he thinks, all of them, but -in reality one has only feigned to be dead and so escapes to a hole -beneath the castle, of which Jack now becomes the master. The remaining -dragon however ventures forth, when the prince is gone out to the -chase, and makes love to the queen, and after a while dragon and queen -knowing that the prince would be incensed at their intrigue conspire to -kill him. To this end the queen on her son’s return pretends to be ill, -and in response to his enquiries tells him that the only thing that can -heal her is ‘immortal water[744],’ which, as her paramour, the dragon, -knows, is to be found only in a distant garden guarded by one or more -other dragons. The prince at once undertakes to obtain the desired -remedy, and is directed by a witch (who in some versions appears as the -impersonation of his τύχη or ‘Fortune’) whither to go and how to deal -with the dragons. These accordingly he slays or eludes, and so returns -home unhurt bringing the immortal water. Then once more the dragon -and the queen take counsel together, and the pretence of illness is -repeated with a demand this time for some immortal fruit or herb[745] -known to be guarded in the same way as the water; and once more the -prince sets out and circumvents the dragons in some new fashion. - -Between such stories and the ancient fable of Heracles’ journey to -the land of the Hesperides in search of the golden apples, and of his -victory over the guardian-dragon Ladon, the connexion is self-evident. -Whether that connexion is one of direct lineage, is less certain. More -probably, I think, a form of this same story was already current in an -age to which the name of Heracles was as unknown as that of the modern -Jack; and just as the story of Peleus and Thetis became the classical -example of the winning of a nymph to wife by a mortal man[746], so -the myth, by which the exploit of bearing off wonderful fruit from the -custody of a dragon was numbered among the labours of Heracles, is -nothing more than the authorised version, so to speak, of a fairy-tale -that might have been heard of winter-nights in Greek cottage-homes any -time between the Pelasgian and the present age. - - * * * * * - -Daemons of the air, the fourth class of _genius_ which we have to -consider, have been acknowledged ever since the time of Hesiod and -doubtless from a period far anterior to that. In his theology it was -the lot of the first race of men in the golden age to become after -death daemons ‘clothed in air and going to and fro through all the -world’ as good guardians of mortal men. But the goodness which Hesiod -attributes to the _genii_ of the air was never, I suspect, an essential -trait in their character. In Hesiod it is a corollary of the statement -that they are the spirits of men who belonged to the golden age; but -there is no reason to suppose that the common-folk ever regarded them -as more beneficent than other gods and daemons. At any rate at the -present day the ἀερικά, or _genii_ of the air, are no better disposed -towards mankind than any other supernatural beings. - -Of this class as a whole little can be said. The word ἀερικό is -applied to almost any apparition too vague and transient to be more -clearly defined. It suggests something ‘clothed in air,’ something -less tangible, less discernible, than most of the beings whom the -peasant recognises and fears. The limits of its usage are hard to fix. -It may properly include a Nereid whose passing through the air is the -whirlwind, and it will equally certainly exclude a callicantzaros or a -dragon. Yet even the Nereids are more substantial than the _genii_ of -the air in their truest form; for the assaults of Nereids upon men and -women are made, as we have seen, from without[747], while _genii_ of -the air are more often supposed to ‘possess’ men in the same way as do -devils, and to be liable to exorcism. - -But, if the class as a whole is too vague and shadowy in the popular -imagination to be capable of exact description, one division of it -is more clearly defined and has a generally acknowledged province of -activity. These particular aërial _genii_ are known as Telonia (τελώνια -or, more rarely, τελωνεῖα). They cannot claim equal antiquity with -some of their fellows, for they are, it would seem, a by-product of -Christianity, with a certain accretion however of pagan superstition. - -The origin of the name Telonia is not in dispute. It means frankly -and plainly ‘custom-houses.’ Such is the bizarre materialism of the -Greek imagination that the soul in its journeys no less than the -body is believed to encounter the embarrassment of custom-houses. -An institution which of all things mundane commands least sentiment -and sympathy has actually found a place in popular theology. Many of -the people indeed at the present day, as I know from enquiry, have -ceased to connect their two usages of the word; but others accept as -reasonable the belief that the soul in its voyage after death up from -the earth to the presence of God must bear the scrutiny of aërial -customs-officers. - -But, apart from modern belief, the apotheosis of the _douane_ is amply -proved by passages cited by Du Cange[748] from early Christian authors. -‘Some spirits,’ says one[749], ‘have been set on the earth, and some -in the water, and others have been set in the air, even those that -are called “aërial customs-officers” (ἐναέρια Τελώνια).’ Another[750] -speaks of ‘the Judge and the prosecutions by the toll-collecting -spirits.’ Yet another[751] explains the belief in fuller detail: ‘as -men ascend, they find custom-houses guarding the way with great care -and obstructing the soaring souls, each custom-house examining for -one particular sin, one for deceit, another for envy, another for -slander, and so on in order, each passion having its own inspectors -and assessors[752].’ Again a prayer for the use of the dying contains -the same idea: ‘Have mercy on me, all-holy angels of God Almighty, and -save me from all evil Telonia, for I have no works to weigh against my -wrong-doings[753].’ Appeal in support of this belief was made even to -the authority of Christ as given in the words, ‘Thou fool, this night -they require thy soul of thee[754],’ where the commentators explained -the vague plural as implying some such subject as ‘toll-collectors’ or -‘custom-house officers[755].’ - -But the belief does not stop here. One does not pass the custom-houses -of this world, or at any rate of Greece, without some expenditure -in duty or in _douceur_; and the same apparently holds true of the -celestial custom-houses. Hence in some places the belief has generated -a practice, or, to speak more exactly, has breathed a new spirit -into the old practice of providing the dead with money. My view of -the origin of this practice has already been explained; I have given -reasons for holding that the coin placed in the mouth of the dead was -simply a charm to prevent evil spirits from entering, or the soul from -re-entering, into the body, and that the interpretation of the custom, -according to which the coin was the fee of the ferryman Charon, was of -comparatively late date. At the present day Charon in the _rôle_ of -ferryman is almost forgotten; but in his place the Telonia seem locally -to have become the recipients of the fee, and the old custom has thus -received a second and equally erroneous explanation. - -This may have been the idea in the mind of my informant who vaguely -said that a coin placed in the mouth of the dead was ‘good because of -the aërial beings[756].’ If the particular aërial beings whom he had in -mind were the Telonia, he no doubt thought of the coin as a fee payable -to them, though in that case it is somewhat strange that he should -not have used the name which actually denotes their toll-collecting -functions. - -But from other sources at any rate comes evidence of a less ambiguous -kind that the idea of paying the Telonia for passage is, or has been, a -real motive in the minds of the peasantry. In Chios (where however the -object actually placed in the mouth of the dead is clearly understood -as a precaution against a devil entering the body) it is believed -that the soul after death remains for forty days in the neighbourhood -of its old habitation, the body, and then making its way to Hades -has to pass the Telonia. Happy the soul that makes its voyage on -Friday, for then the activities of the Telonia (who in the conception -of the islanders are clearly evil spirits and not, as sometimes, the -ministers of God) are restrained. But, to appease the Telonia and -to ensure the safe passage of the soul, money is distributed to the -poor[757]. The same usage obtains also at Sinasos in Cappadocia, and -there the money so distributed is actually called τελωνιακά, ‘duty paid -at the customs[758].’ The fact that in both these cases the money is -now given in alms instead of being buried with the body is clearly a -result of Christian influence; before that change was effected, it is -reasonably likely that the widely-known practice of placing a coin in -the mouth of the dead was explained in some places, though erroneously, -by the belief that the dead must pay their way through the aërial -custom-houses. The term περατίκι, ‘passage-money,’ by which, in the -neighbourhood of Smyrna, is denoted the coin still in that district -buried with the dead, has reference possibly to the same Telonia rather -than to Charon[759]. - -Another and wholly different aspect of the Telonia concerns the -living and not the dead, while it still exhibits them as true _genii_ -of the air. Any striking phenomena of the heavens at night, such as -shooting-stars or comets, are believed to be manifestations of the -Telonia[760]; but most dreaded of all is the phenomenon known to us -as St Elmo’s light, the flame that sometimes flickers in time of -storm about the mast-head and yards. This light, the Greek sailor -thinks, portends an immediate onset of malevolent aërial powers, whom -he straightway tries to scare away by every means in his power, by -invocation of saints and incantation against the demons, by firing of -guns, and, best of all, by driving a black-handled knife (which is in -the Cyclades thought doubly efficacious if an onion has recently been -peeled with it) into the mast. For he no longer discriminates as did -the Greek mariner of old; then the appearance of two such flames was -greeted with gladness as a manifestation of the Dioscuri, the saviours -from storm and tempest, and evil was portended only if there appeared a -single flame, the token of Helena[761], who wrecked as surely as her -twin brothers guarded; now the phenomenon in any form bodes naught but -ill. This change is probably due to Christian influences; the seaman -no longer looks to any pagan power for succour in time of peril; he -accounts St Nicholas his friend and saviour; and the Telonia, who in -this province of their activity represent the older order of deities, -have become by contrast man’s enemies. - -Other vague and incorrect usages of the term Telonia are also recorded. -Sometimes it may be heard as a synonym for δαιμόνια, any non-Christian -deities. In Myconos it is said to have been applied to the _genii_ -of springs[762]. In Athens men used to speak of Telonia of the sea, -who like the Callicantzari were abroad only from Christmas until the -blessing of the waters at Twelfth-night; and during this time ships -were wont to be kept at anchor and secure from their attacks[763]. -A belief is also mentioned by Pouqueville[764], in a very confused -passage, that children who die unbaptised become Telonia; but the -statement is corroborated by Bernhard Schmidt[765], who adduces -information of the same belief existing in Zacynthos. The idea at the -root of it probably was that unbaptised children could not pass the -celestial customs, and were detained there on their road to the other -world in order to assist in obstructing the passage of other souls. But -these are local variations of the main belief, and, so far as I can -see, are of little importance. In general the Telonia are a species of -aërial _genius_, and their two activities consist in the collecting of -dues from departed souls and assaults upon mariners. - - * * * * * - -There remain only for consideration the _genii_ of human beings, or -the attendant spirits to whom is committed in some way the guidance of -men’s lives. To some of them the name _genius_ (i.e. στοιχειό) would -hardly perhaps be extended by the peasants; but they all bear the same -kind of relation towards men, and may therefore conveniently be grouped -together for discussion. - -The best example which I know of an acknowledged _genius_ attached to -a man is in a story in Hahn’s collection[766], which tells of an old -wizard whose life was bound up with that of a ten-headed snake which -lived beneath a threshing-floor. Here the monstrous nature of the -_genius_ is doubtless intended to match the character of the wizard; -ordinary men, unversed in magic, may have _genii_ of a less complex -pattern. Thus the snake which so commonly acts as _genius_ to a house -is also in many cases regarded as the _genius_ of the head or some -other member of the household. When therefore the death-struggle of any -person is prolonged, this is sometimes set down to the unwillingness of -the _genius_ to permit his death; and in extreme cases of protracted -agony recourse has before now been had to a priest, who, entering -the sick man’s room alone, reads a special prayer for the sufferer’s -release, and by virtue of this solemn office causes the house-snakes, -who are pagan _genii_, to burst[767]. With their disruption of course -the soul of the dying man is at once set free. - -But the guardian spirits of whom the peasants most commonly speak -belong to the _personnel_ of Christian theology or demonology, and are -therefore not actually numbered among _genii._ These are angels, two -of whom are allotted to each man, the one good (ὁ καλὸς ἄγγελος) and -the other bad (ὁ κακὸς ἄγγελος). But though the designation _genius_ is -not applied to them, in functions angels and _genii_ do not differ. To -them belongs the control of a man’s life, the one guiding him in the -way of righteousness, and the other diverting him to the pitfalls of -vice. Their presence is ever constant, but seldom visible. Sometimes -indeed, in stories at any rate, we hear of the good angel appearing -to a man and rewarding him in his old age for a virtuous life[768]; -and in general men born on Saturday, σαββατογεννημένοι, are reputed to -be ἀλαφροστοίχει̯ωτοι[769] and endowed with special powers of seeing -and dealing with the supernatural. But most commonly the power to -see the guardian angel is granted only to the dying, and the vision -is a warning that the end is near. So, when the gaze of a dying man -becomes abstracted and fixed, they say in some places βλέπει τὸν -ἄγγελό του, or in one word ἀγγελοθωρεῖ[770], ‘he sees his angel,’ or -again ἀγγελοσκιάζεται[771], ‘he is terrified of an angel.’ In these -expressions it is not clear which of the two angels is intended; but, -to judge from other expressions, popular belief recognises the activity -of the one or the other according to the peace or pain of the death. -‘He is borne away by an angel,’ ἀγγελοφορᾶται[772], suggests a quiet -passing, as of Lazarus who was carried by the angels into Abraham’s -bosom; while the word ἀγγελομαχεῖ, ‘he is fighting with an angel,’ an -expression used in Laconia of a protracted death-struggle, and again -ἀγγελοκρούσθηκε[773], ‘he was stricken by an angel,’ a term which -denotes a sudden death, argue rather the presence of the evil angel. - -Another kind of _genius_ sometimes associated with men is the ἴσκιος -(the modern form of σκιά), the ‘shadow’ personified. The phrase ἔχει -καλὸ ἴσκιο, ‘he has a good shadow,’ is used of a man who enjoys good -fortune, and he himself is described sometimes as καλοΐσκι̯ωτος[774], -‘good-shadowed,’ that is, ‘lucky.’ But apparently a man may also get -into trouble with this shadow no less than with an angel. The word -ἰσκιοπατήθηκε, ‘he has been trampled upon by his shadow[775],’ is -used occasionally of a man who has been stricken down by some sudden, -but not necessarily fatal, illness such as epilepsy or paralysis. -This personification of the shadow as _genius_ is perhaps responsible -in some measure for the fear which the peasant feels of having the -foundation-stone of a building laid upon his shadow; but, as I have -said above, the principle of sympathetic magic will explain the cause -of fear without this supposition. - -To these _genii_ might reasonably be added the Fate (ἡ Μοῖρα or, more -rarely, ἡ Τύχη) of each individual. But these lesser Fates, as well as -the great Three, have already been discussed, and there is nothing to -add here save that by virtue of the close connexion of each lesser Fate -with the life of one man these too might be numbered among _genii_. - -The same belief in a guardian-deity presiding over each human life is -to be found throughout ancient Greek literature. In Homer the name -for such a _genius_ is Κὴρ (at any rate if it be of an evil sort), -in later writers δαίμων--both of them vague terms which embrace -other kinds of deities as well, yet not so vague but that with the -aid of context we can readily discover in them the equivalent of the -‘guardian-angel’ or other modern _genius_. From Homer onwards the word -λαγχάνειν is regularly used of the allotment of each human life from -the moment of birth to one of these guardians, and the belief in their -attendance upon men throughout, and even after, life seems to have had -general acceptance. In the _Iliad_ the wraith of Patroclus is made -to speak of the hateful _Ker_ to whom he was allotted at the hour of -birth[776], and the _Ker_ here mentioned is not, I think, merely fate -in the abstract but as truly a person as that baneful _Ker_ of battle -and carnage ‘who wore about her shoulders a robe red with the blood of -heroes[777].’ After Homer the word δαίμων is preferred, but there is -no change in the idea. The famous saying of Heraclitus, ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ -δαίμον, ‘the god that guides man’s lot is character,’ is in no wise -dark, but Plato throws even clearer light upon the popular belief in -guardian-_daemons_. ‘It is said that at each man’s death his _daemon_, -the _daemon_ to whom he had been allotted for his lifetime, has the -task of guiding him to some appointed place[778],’ where the souls of -men must assemble for judgement. Here the words ‘it is said’ indicate -the popular source of the doctrine; and this is confirmed by another -passage in which Plato[779] protests against the fatalism involved in -the allotment of souls to particular _daemons_, and prefers to hold -that the soul may choose its own guardian. Again in a fragment of -Menander there is a simple statement of the belief in a form which robs -fatalism of its gloom: - - Beside each man a daemon takes his stand - E’en at his birth-hour, through life’s mysteries - A guide right good[780]. - -But there were others who did not take so cheerful a view, at any rate -of their own guardian-deities; ‘alas for the most cruel _daemon_ to -whom I am allotted[781]’ is a complaint of a type by no means rare in -Greek literature, and the word κακοδαίμων came as readily as εὐδαίμων -to men’s lips[782]. - -From these passages it is evident that in general each man was believed -to have one, and only one, attendant _genius_, and his happiness or -misery to depend on the character of the guardian allotted to him by -fate. But sometimes this injustice of destiny was obviated by a belief -similar to the modern belief in both good and bad angels in attendance -on each man. The comment of Servius on Vergil’s line, ‘Quisque suos -patimur manes[783],’ sets forth this view: ‘when we are born two -_Genii_ are allotted to us, one who exhorts us to good, the other who -perverts us to evil.’ - -As in modern so in ancient times these _genii_ were rarely visible to -the men whom they guarded. The _genius_ of Socrates, which, like those -of other men past and present, had been, so he held, divinely appointed -to wait upon him from his childhood onward[784], spoke to him indeed -in a voice which he could hear[785] (just perhaps as the priestess of -Delphi heard the voice of Apollo[786]), but ever remained unseen. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[107] Pindar, _Nem._ VI. 1 - - ἓν ἀνδρῶν, ἓν θεῶν γένος· ἐκ μιᾶς δὲ πνέομεν - ματρὸς ἀμφότεροι· διείργει δὲ πᾶσα κεκριμένα - δύναμις κ.τ.λ. - -The opening phrase is often, even usually, translated ‘one is the race -of men, another the race of gods.’ Whether ἓν ... ἓν was ever used -in Greek for ἄλλο ... ἄλλο, I doubt; but even if it be possible, the -emphasis ἓν ... ἓν ... ὲκ μιᾶς must to my mind be an emphasis upon -unity, and the first mention of divergence comes equally strongly in -διείργει δὲ.... - -[108] Stobaeus, _Sentent._ p. 279, Πρῶτος Θαλῆς διαιρεῖ ... εἰς θεὸν, -εἰς δαίμονας, εἰς ἥρωας. - -[109] For dialectic variations of the form, see Schmidt, _Das -Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 91. - -[110] I. _Cor._ v. 12, I. _Tim._ iii. 7, and elsewhere. - -[111] Basil III. 944 A (Migne, _Patrol. Graec._ vol. XXIX.). - -[112] Pouqueville, _Voyage de la Grèce_, I. p. 319, writes ‘Pagania.’ - -[113] In Andros the word is used (in the singular παγανό) to denote -an unbaptised child. Cf. Ἀντ. Μηλιαράκης, Ὑπομνήματα περιγραφικὰ τῶν -Κυκλάδων νησῶν,--Ἄνδρος, Κέως, p. 45. - -[114] _op. cit._ p. 92, referring to Du Cange, τζίνα = fraus, p. 1571. - -[115] Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστ. καὶ Ἐθν. Ἑταιρίας, II. p. 122. - -[116] Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 97. - -[117] _Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable à Sant-Erini, -isle de l’Archipel, depuis l’etablissement des Pères de la Compagnie de -Jesus en icelle_ (Paris, 1657), p. 192 ff. - -[118] See below, pp. 255 ff. - -[119] See below, pp. 284-7. - -[120] Cf. Hesych. σμερδαλέος, σμερδνός = φοβερός, καταπληκτικός, -πολεμικός; and σμέρδος = λῆμα, ῥώμη, δύναμις, ὅρμημα. - -[121] Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, p. 16, and in the periodical -Φιλίστωρ, IV. p. 517. - -[122] _op. cit._ p. 92. - -[123] Steph. _Thesaur._ s.v. - -[124] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, anno 1861, p. 1851, quoted by Schmidt, _loc. -cit._ - -[125] Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 92. - -[126] _Ibid._ - -[127] Zenob. _Cent._ III. 3. Cf. Hesych. and Suidas, s.v. Γελλώ. - -[128] Cf. Leo Allatius, _de quor. Graec. opin._ cap. III. _ad fin._, -quoting Mich. Psellus, πᾶσαν τὴν ἐν τοῖς βρέφεσιν ἀπορροφᾶν ὥσπερ -ὑγρότητα. - -[129] Artemidorus, _Oneirocritica_, Bk II. cap. 9, p. 90. - -[130] _Ibid._ p. 91. - -[131] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 33. - -[132] Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. p. 131. - -[133] Soutzos, _Hist. de la Révolution Grecque_, p. 158. Cf. Schmidt, -_Das Volksleben_, p. 27. - -[134] Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. no. XI. - -[135] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 135. - -[136] Πανδώρα (periodical) XVI. p. 538, ἅγιε Νικόλα ναύτη. - -[137] B. Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. no. XX. - -[138] Plutarch, _de defect. orac._ 17. - -[139] _Idyll._ I. 15. - -[140] _Ps._ 91. 6. - -[141] _De quorumdam Graecorum opinationibus_, cap. VIII. - -[142] Du Cange, _Lex. med. et infim. Latin_, s.v. - -[143] Clarke, _Catalogue of Sculptures in Fitzwilliam Museum, -Cambridge_. - -[144] The population of Eleusis, as of many villages in Attica, -is mainly Albanian; but they have inherited many of the old Greek -superstitions and customs. - -[145] Lenormant, _Monographie de la voie sacrée éleusinienne_, p. 399 -ff. - -[146] “The diminutive in Albanian of Nicolas is Kolio: in the choice of -this name is there not a reminiscence of that of Celeus?”--so Lenormant -in a note. The suggestion does not appear to me very probable. - -[147] Opposite Eleusis in Salamis. - -[148] Euseb. _Chron._ p. 27. Plut. _Vita Thes._ XXXI. _ad fin._ - -[149] Paus. VIII. 15. - -[150] Conon, _Narrat._ 15. - -[151] _Tour through Greece_, II. p. 440. - -[152] _Travels in the Morea_, III. p. 148. - -[153] Paus. VIII. 42. 1-4, and 25. 5. - -[154] Schol. in Ar. _Ran._ 441. Aelian, _Hist. Anim._ X. 16. - -[155] Frazer, _Golden Bough_, II. 44 ff. (2nd edit.). - -[156] Herod. II. 171. - -[157] Aelian, _l.c._ - -[158] Herod. II. 47. Plut. _Isis et Osiris_, 8 (Moral. 354). Aelian, -_l.c._ - -[159] _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 56. - -[160] Above, p. 53. - -[161] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. no. VII. - -[162] Paus. VIII. 42. 1 ff. - -[163] Paus. VIII. 42. 2. - -[164] Schuchhardt, _Schliemann’s Excavations_ (tr. Sellers), p. 296. - -[165] _Ibid._ - -[166] Paus. II. 22. 1. - -[167] _op. cit._ p. 147. - -[168] _op. cit._ p. 302. - -[169] Schuchhardt, _op. cit._ p. 151, and Leaf’s introduction, p. -XXVII. Cf. Frazer in _Journal of Philology_, XIV. 145 ff. - -[170] Schuchhardt, _op. cit._ p. 151. - -[171] _op. cit._ p. 303. - -[172] Frazer in _Journal of Philology_, XIV. pp. 145 ff. - -[173] Paus. I. 18. 3. - -[174] _Id._ IX. 36. - -[175] _Iliad_ IX. 404-5. - -[176] _Griech. und Albanesische Märchen_, nos. 63 and 97. - -[177] ‘die Schöne der Erde’ in von Hahn’s translation. Unfortunately -the original does not appear in Pio’s Νεοελληνικὰ παραμύθια, for which -the MSS. of von Hahn provided the material. - -[178] Cf. Plut. _Vita Thes._ 31, _ad fin._ - -[179] For references see Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 222. - -[180] Passow, _Popul. Carm. Graeciae recentioris_. Carm. no. 408. - -[181] Χασιώτης, Συλλογὴ τῶν κατὰ τὴν Ἤπειρον δημοτικῶν ἀσμάτων, p. 169. - -[182] Passow, _op. cit._ no. 423. - -[183] Πολίτης, Μελέτη ἐπὶ τοῦ βίου τῶν νεωτέρων Ἑλλήνων, p. 290. - -[184] Bernhard Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. p. 81. - -[185] Kindly communicated to me by Mr G. F. Abbott, author of -_Macedonian Folklore_. - -[186] B. Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 39. - -[187] Cf. Passow, no. 428. - -[188] _Ibid._ no. 430. - -[189] Above, p. 53. - -[190] _e.g._ Passow, no. 427. - -[191] Cf. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 230. - -[192] This expression which I have heard several times is not noticed -by Schmidt or Polites. They give, however, ἀγγελοκρούεται, ‘he is being -stricken by an angel,’ and other phrases meaning to see, to fear, to -be carried away by, an angel, all in the same sense. See Schmidt, _op. -cit._ 181, and Πολίτης, Μελέτη, κ.τ.λ. 308. - -[193] κουμπάρος. The word expresses the relationship in which a -godfather stands to the parents of his godson. - -[194] This story, as I have told it, is not a literal translation, for -I could not take down the original. But notes which I set down after -hearing it enable me to reproduce it in a form which certainly contains -the whole substance and many actual phrases of the version which I -heard. - -[195] Probably meaning the brigand’s ‘comrades.’ The term ξεφτέρι, -‘hawk,’ is commonly so applied. - -[196] Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 246 (from Λελέκης, Δημοτ. ἀνθολ. p. 57). - -[197] _e.g._ Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 426-429. - -[198] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, vol. III. p. 48. Cf. Πολίτης, _op. cit._ -p. 239. - -[199] The word for ‘black’ includes the sense of ‘grim,’ ‘gloomy,’ -‘sorrowful.’ Tears are commonly described as ‘black,’ μαῦρα δάκρυα. - -[200] Passow, _op. cit._ distich no. 1155. - -[201] Cf. Passow, no. 408. - -[202] Cf. Passow, nos. 414, 415, 417. - -[203] Passow, no. 424. - -[204] Aesch. _Eum._ 237. - -[205] Fauriel, _Chants populaires de la Grèce Moderne, Discours -préliminaire_, p. 85. - -[206] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 38. - -[207] _Ibid._ no. 37. - -[208] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 7. - -[209] _Das Volksleben_, p. 237. - -[210] _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 10. - -[211] Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 272. - -[212] Passow, no. 371. - -[213] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 17. Cf. Schmidt, _op. cit._ -p. 236. - -[214] So in some districts of Macedonia up to the present day; Abbott, -_Macedonian Folklore_, p. 193. - -[215] Πρωτόδικος, περὶ τῆς παρ’ ἡμῖν ταφῆς, p. 14. The form περατίκιον -which the writer gives can hardly be popular. It might be, as Schmidt -points out, περατίκιν in the local dialect. I have given the form which -the word would assume in most districts. - -[216] Σκορδέλης in the periodical Πανδώρα, XI. p. 449. Cf. Schmidt, -_op. cit._ p. 238. - -[217] περὶ πένθους, § 10. - -[218] For this term see above, p. 68, and below, p. 283. - -[219] Below, p. 285. - -[220] See above, p. 13. - -[221] Passow, no. 432. - -[222] This is shown later to be the first form of the superstition. See -below, pp. 433-4. - -[223] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in the Levant_, I. p. 289 (cited -by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 239). - -[224] The use of the coin, quite apart from any such variation of the -custom, was forbidden by several councils of the Church between the 4th -and 7th centuries, cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη etc. p. 269. - -[225] Cf. Ricaud, _Annales des conciles généraux et particuliers_ -(1773), vol. I. p. 654 (from Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 269). - -[226] According to Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 363) the object used thus in -Naxos is a wax cross with the initial letters Ι. Χ. Ν. engraved upon -it, and it still bears the old name ναῦλον, ‘fare.’ - -[227] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 335 and 339. - -[228] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in the Levant_, I. p. 212. The -exact details of the custom in each place are given below, p. 406. - -[229] See below, pp. 433-4. - -[230] In Rhodes, according to Newton, _l.c._, the Christian symbol Ι. -Χ. Ν. Κ. is combined with that to which I now come, the ‘pentacle.’ - -[231] Cf. Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 573, where it is said that in Myconos -the symbol is sometimes carved on house doors to keep _vrykolakes_ (on -which see below, cap. IV.) from troubling the inmates at night. - -[232] Cf. Lucian, ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἐν τῇ προσαγορεύσει πταίσματος, 5. - -[233] apud Pausan. x. 28. 1. - -[234] _e.g._ Eur. _Alc._ 252, 361, _Heracl._ 432, Arist. _Ran._ 184 -ff., _Lysistr._ 606, _Plut._ 278. - -[235] Suidas s.v. - -[236] Pollux, 8, 102. - -[237] Pollux, 4, 132. - -[238] Strabo, 579. - -[239] _Ibid._ 636 - -[240] _Ibid._ 649. - -[241] Plut. _Anton._ 16. - -[242] Χάρων θάνατος, s.v. - -[243] Eur. _Alc._ 48, 49. - -[244] _Ibid._ 74-6. - -[245] _Ibid._ 1141-2. - -[246] _Ibid._ 50. - -[247] Codex Vaticanus, no. 909. Cf. Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 223, -whence the majority of these references are borrowed. - -[248] VII. 603 and 671; XI. 133. Cf. Schmidt, _l.c._ - -[249] s.v. - -[250] Gerhard, _die Gottheiten der Etrusker_, p. 56; Müller, _die -Etrusker_, II. 102. - -[251] Ambrosch, _de Charonte Etrusco_, pp. 2, 3. - -[252] _Ibid._ p. 8. - -[253] _Ibid._ pp. 4-7; and Maury in _Revue Archéologique_, I. 665, and -IV. 791. - -[254] _Annuaire de l’Association pour l’encouragement des études -grecques en France_, no. VIII. (1874), p. 392 ff. - -[255] Both fortifications and well are actual features of Acro-Corinth -up to the present day. - -[256] Pausan. I. 37, _ad fin._; Perrot, _l.c._ Cf. Frazer, _Pausanias_, -II. 497. - -[257] _Märchen_ etc. _Introduction_, p. 35. - -[258] Cf. Bursian, _Geographie von Griechenland_, II. p. 17. - -[259] Vréto, _Mélange Néo-hellenique_. - -[260] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. nos. 16-18. - -[261] _Ibid._ p. 113 (note 2). - -[262] See below, p. 165. - -[263] _Orph. Hymns_, 57 (58), 2. - -[264] _Orph. Hymns_, 55, 8. μήτερ ἐρώτων. For representations in -ancient art of many ἔρωτες, cf. Philostr. _Eikones_, p. 383 (770). - -[265] See above, p. 57. - -[266] Tzetzes, _Schol. on Lycophron_, 406. - -[267] Pausan. _I._ 19. 2. Cf. _C. I. G._ no. 1444, and Orph. Hymn, 55 -(54), 4. - -[268] Apparently the old subterranean passage by which competitors -entered the stadium. - -[269] Mentioned by Pouqueville, _Voyage en Grèce_, V. p. 67, and -confirmed by many other writers. - -[270] Pausan. X. 38. 6. - -[271] Pouqueville, _op. cit._ IV. p. 46. - -[272] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. p. 222, III. p. 156. -Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 227. - -[273] Dodwell, _Tour through Greece_, I. 397. - -[274] Πολίτης, _l.c._ - -[275] _l.c._ - -[276] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 222. - -[277] Cf. ἦτον γραφτό μου, ‘It was my written lot,’ i.e. destiny, and -other similar phrases cited by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 212, and -Πολίτης, Μελέτη, pp. 218, 219. - -[278] _Choeph._ 464-5, which the Scholiast annotates thus, πέπηγε -μὲν καὶ ὥρισται ὑπὸ Μοιρῶν τὸ τὴν Κλυταιμνήστραν ἀνδροκτονήσασαν -ἀναιρεθῆναι κ.τ.λ. - -[279] I regret to say that I cannot trace the source of this story. -I incline to think that I took it from some publication, but it is -possible that it was narrated to me personally. - -[280] Except in Zacynthos, according to Schmidt (_Volksleben_, p. 211), -where they number twelve. - -[281] Schmidt, _Volksleben_, p. 220. - -[282] _Chants populaires de la Grèce moderne, Discours préliminaire_, -p. 83. - -[283] According to Bent (_Cyclades_, pp. 292 and 437), the name Erinyes -is still applied by the people of Andros and of Kythnos to the evil -spirits who cause consumption. - -[284] So Pouqueville, _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 160. - -[285] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην., III. pp. 67, 68. - -[286] Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 218. - -[287] The visit of the Fate on the day of birth instead of the third -day after is unusual. - -[288] From Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. pp. 310, 311. - -[289] Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 212. - -[290] Cf. μόρσιμος of the ‘destined’ bridegroom, in Hom. _Od._ XVI. 392. - -[291] Cf. Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, -pp. 286 ff. - -[292] Passow, no. 385. - -[293] Heuzey, _Le mont Olympe_, p. 139. I have introduced a few -alterations of spelling, mostly suggested by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, -p. 229 (note), _e.g._ τοὐρανοῦ for τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, in order to restore the -rather rough metre. - -[294] Πολίτης (Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 228, note 1) gives the following -references: Wordsworth, _Athens and Attica_, p. 228; Ἐφημ. Φιλομαθῶν, -1868, p. 1479; Passow, _Popul. Carm._ p. 431, besides those to which I -have referred in other notes. - -[295] _Persae_, 659. - -[296] VII. 218. - -[297] Πιττάκης, who recorded this version in Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, no. 30 -(1852), p. 653, spelt the word erroneously κόροιβο; the sound of οι and -υ being identical in modern Greek, I have substituted the latter. - -[298] _Theog._ 217 and 904. - -[299] _Theog._ 217. - -[300] _Prom. Vinct._ 516 ff. - -[301] Leo Allatius (_de quorumdam Graec. opinationibus_, cap. xx.) -quotes from Mich. Psellus (11th century) the ancient form Νηρηΐδες -as then in use. He himself (_ibid._ cap. xix.) employs the form -Ναραγίδες which was probably the dialectic form of his native Chios. -Bern. Schmidt (_Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, pp. 98-9) has brought -together a large number of variants now in use, in which the accent -fluctuates between the α and the ι, the first vowel is indifferently α, -ε or η, the two consecutive vowels αϊ are sometimes contracted to ᾳ, -sometimes more distinctly separated by the faintly pronounced letter γ, -and lastly an euphonetic α is occasionally prefixed to the word. Hence -forms as widely distinct as ἀνερᾷδες and ναραγίδες often occur. Du -Cange, it may be added, gives the form Ναγαρίδες (with interchange of -the ρ and the inserted γ); but since his information is seemingly drawn -entirely from Leo Allatius, there is reason to regard it as merely his -own error in transcribing Ναραγίδες. - -[302] An attempt has been made by one authority on the folk-lore of -Athens (Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. pp. 218 and 222), to -distinguish καλοκυρᾶδες from νεράϊδες. He maintains that in Athens the -latter were never regarded as maleficent beings, and must therefore be -distinguished from the dread καλοκυρᾶδες, whom he seeks to identify, -on no better ground than the euphemistic name, with the Eumenides. A -folk-story, however, which he himself records (_ibid._ p. 319), how a -καλοκυρά was married to a prince, whose eyes she had blinded to all -other women, and how after living with him for a while she disappeared -finally in a whirlwind, reveals in her all the usual traits of a -Nereid, and thus defeats the writer’s previous contention. But apart -from this a little enquiry on the subject outside the limits of Athens -would have set at rest his doubts as to the identity of the two. It is -quite possible that formerly in Athens, as now elsewhere, it was usual -to employ the euphemism καλοκυρᾶδες in referring to the Nereids in -their more mischievous moods; only in that way can I explain his idea -that the Nereids were never maleficent. - -[303] Cf. Passow, _Distich_ 692; Pashley, _Travels in Crete_, vol. II. -p. 233; Πανδώρα, XIV. p. 566; Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 104. - -[304] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 105. - -[305] The latter is quoted by Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 106, -from the dialect of Arachova near Delphi. - -[306] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _l. c._; Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, -p. 13. - -[307] Pind. _Nem._ V. 36. - -[308] Hom. _Od._ 13. 102 ff. - -[309] Cf. e.g. Passow, _Popularia Carmina_, Distichs 552-3. - -[310] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. I. no. 15. ‘Ihre ganze Kraft steckt -aber in den Kleidern, und wenn man ihnen die wegnimmt, so sind sie -machtlos.’ - -[311] To form a chain of dancers the leader, who occupies the extreme -right, is linked to the second in the row by a kerchief, while the rest -merely join hands. More freedom of motion is thus allowed to the chief -performer. - -[312] Cf. also Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. II. no. 77. Ἀντ. -Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 123. - -[313] The crowing of the third cock is more usually the signal for the -departure of Nereids and their kind. It is commonly held that the white -cock crows first, the red second, and the black third. The last is a -sure saviour from the assaults of all manner of demons. - -[314] Similar transformations occur in a Cretan story, the forms -assumed being those of dog, snake, camel, and fire. Χουρμούζης, -Κρητικά, p. 69. - -[315] Cf. Apollodorus, III. 13. 5. - -[316] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 104, quoting Ritschl, _Ino -Leucothea_, Pl. I., II. (1 and 2), III.; and referring to a sarcophagus -in the Corsini Gallery at Rome, figured in _Monum. Ined._ vol. VI. Pl. -XXVI. - -[317] Hom. _Od._ 5. 346 sqq. and 459 sqq. - -[318] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 123. - -[319] The women of Scopelos on certain festal occasions wear a dress -which may well be the same as the classical ὀρθοστάδιον, a loose -pleated robe falling from the shoulders and widening as it falls, so -that their figures resemble a fluted column too broad at the base and -too tapering at the top. - -[320] Hahn, _Griechische Märchen_, vol. II. no. 83. Χουρμούζης, -Κρητικά, p. 69. - -[321] Cf. a folk-song quoted by Ross, _Reisen auf Inseln_, III. p. 180, - - Σὲ μονοδένδριν μὴ ἀναιβῇς, ’στοὺς κάμπους μὴ καταίβῃς, - καὶ ’στὸν ἀπάνω ποταμὸν μὴ παίζῃς τὸ περνιαῦλι, - κῂ ἐρθοῦν καὶ μονομαζευθοῦν τοῦ ποταμοῦ ’νερᾷδες, - -‘Go not up to the solitary tree, go not down to the lowlands, beside -the torrent above play not thy pipes, lest the Nereids of the stream -come and swarm thick about thee.’ - -[322] Lexicon, s.v. ῥάμνος, ἐν ταῖς γενέσεσι τῶν παιδίων χρίουσι -(πίττῃ) τὰς οἰκίας εἰς ἀπέλασιν τῶν δαιμόνων. - -[323] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 32. - -[324] Cf. Welcker, _Kleine Schriften_, 3. 197-9; Rohde, _Psyche_, I. p. -360, note 1. - -[325] Cf. Hom. _Od._ XI. 48 ff. and Eustathius, _ad loc._ - -[326] Ζ. Δ. Γαβαλᾶς, Ἡ νῆσος Φολέγανδρος, p. 29. - -[327] _Reisen auf Inseln_, etc. III. pp. 181-2. - -[328] _C.I.G._, no. 6201 (from Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, etc. p. -122 note). Τοῖς πάρος οὖν μύθοις πιστεύσατε· παῖδα γὰρ ἐσθλὴν | ἥρπασαν -ὡς τερπνὴν Ναΐδες, οὐ Θάνατος. - -[329] Ἐμ. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 129. There are also compounds -ἐξωπαρμένος and ἀλλοπαρμένος with the same meaning. - -[330] Plato, _Phaedr._ XV. (238 D). - -[331] _Ibid._ 229 A, B; 230 B; 242 A; 279 B. - -[332] Cf. Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. xx. ‘potissimum si -fluentis aquarum solum irrigetur.’ - -[333] To this belief I attribute the origin of the phrase ὥρα τὸν -ηὗρε, ‘an (evil) hour overtook him’ (Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ xix.), -employed euphemistically in reference to ‘seizure’ by the Nereids, and -of the kindred imprecation, κακὴ ὥρα νά σ’ εὕρῃ, ‘may an evil hour -overtake you’ (Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 97), which gains in force -and elegance by its reversal of an ordinary phrase of leave-taking, ὥρα -καλή. - -[334] See above, p. 79. - -[335] Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ xix. - -[336] From Epirus, Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 120. See above, p. 142, -note 2. - -[337] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 120. - -[338] I. p. 473 (Migne, _Patrolog. Graeco-Lat._ vol. XCIV. p. 1604). - -[339] See above, p. 13. - -[340] Cf. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, Vol. II. no. 80. - -[341] _The Cyclades_, p. 457. - -[342] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 369. - -[343] ἡ Λάμια τοῦ πελάγου. Cf. the periodical Παρνασσός IV. p. 773, and -Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 30. See also below, pp. -171 ff. - -[344] _Histoire de la Révolution grecque_, p. 228 note. - -[345] Hor. _Carm._ III. 28. 10. - -[346] Ἰ. Σαραντίδου Ἀρχελάου, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 90. - -[347] Εὐαγγελία Κ. Καπετανάκης, Λακωνικὰ Περίεργα, pp. 43 sqq. - -[348] Cf. Παρνασσός, IV. p. 669 (1880). - -[349] So according to Theodore Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 496) but perhaps -inaccurately. - -[350] So Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 101, following Βάλληνδας in -Ἐφημερὶς τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1861, p. 1826; and Bent, _loc. cit._ - -[351] In this view Prof. Πολίτης of Athens University, whom I -consulted, concurs with me. - -[352] Cf. Παρνασσός, IV. p. 669, Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 97. - -[353] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, etc. p. 101. - -[354] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. p. 223. - -[355] Travels in Crete, II. pp. 232-4. - -[356] I cannot vouch for the accuracy of my translation of this word, -which I have never seen or heard elsewhere. - -[357] Cf. Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ cap. xix. - -[358] Cf. Ἰον. Ἀνθολογία, III. p. 509. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. -II. no. 81. - -[359] _C.I.G._ no. 997 (from Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 122 note). - -[360] Παρνασσός, IV. p. 765. The origin of the second part of the -compound is unknown. - -[361] Ἀρχαιολογικὴ Ἐφημερίς, 1852, p. 647. - -[362] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 156. - -[363] Theotokis, _Détails sur Corfou_, p. 123. - -[364] Theocr. _Id._ v. 53-4 and 58-9. - -[365] Kindly communicated to me by Mr Abbott, author of _Macedonian -Folklore_. - -[366] Hom. _Od._ XIII. 105-6. - -[367] See Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the study of Greek Religion_, -p. 423. - -[368] Οἰκονόμος, Περὶ προφορᾶς, p. 768. - -[369] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 131 and Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικὸν τῆς καθ’ -ἡμᾶς Ἑλληνικῆς γλῶσσης, s.v. δρίμαις. - -[370] Σκορδίλης, in Πάνδωρα, XI. p. 472; cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ -p. 130. - -[371] Cited by Bern. Schmidt, _ibid._ from Βρετός, Ἐθν. Ἡμερολ. 1863, -p. 55. This reference I have been unable to verify. - -[372] In Macedonia. - -[373] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 359. - -[374] Wachsmuth in _Rhein. Mus._ 1872. - -[375] _Orph. Hymns_, 36 (35), 12. - -[376] Alexis, _Fragm. Fab. Incert._ 69. - -[377] Verg. _Georg._ IV. 336. - -[378] Tzetzes, _Lycophron_, 536. - -[379] _ibid._ 522. - -[380] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 85. - -[381] Ἐμ. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 189. In Carpathos however the -three middle and three last days of August are added. - -[382] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 131. - -[383] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, vol. I. p. 710. - -[384] Theodore Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 174) says that the word δρύμαις -is used in Sikinos to mean actually the sores on limbs, and in other -islands the holes in linen caused by washing during Aug. 1-6. But as -he appears to have been unaware that δρύμαις usually means the days -themselves, I question the accuracy of his statement. - -[385] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, I. p. 710, who derives the word from κακὸς -and Α(ὔγ)ουστος. - -[386] Anthol. Palat. VI. 189. - -[387] Verg. _Georg._ IV. 383. - -[388] Σκορδίλης, in Πανδώρα, XI. p. 472. - -[389] I give both these words as I received them, but cannot account -for the abnormal accents. Ἄλουστος and either Ἀλουστιναίς or -Ἀλούστιναις would be usual. As regards the whole form Ἀλούστος, it -cannot I think be a dialectic change of Αὔγουστος, but is probably a -pun upon it with reference to the custom of not washing during the -first days of the month. - -[390] Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικόν, s.v. δρίμαις. - -[391] Modern πρινάρι, ancient πρῖνος. - -[392] Hesiod, _Fragm. apud_ Plutarch. _De Orac. Defect._ p. 415. - -[393] Cf. also Schol. _ad_ Apoll. Rhod. II. 479, where Mnesimachus is -quoted for the same opinion. - -[394] _O. T._ 1099. - -[395] _Nat. Hist._ IX. cap. 5. - -[396] _Lycophron_, 480. - -[397] _Hom. Hymns_, III. 256 sqq. - -[398] - - ἑστᾶσ’ ἠλίβατοι· τεμένη δέ ἑ κικλήσκουσιν - ἀθάνατων· τὰς δ’ οὔτι βροτοὶ κείρουσι σιδήρῳ. - -These two lines (267-8) have fallen under suspicion because, it is -urged, the word ἀθανάτων is in direct contradiction of what has been -said as to the intermediate position of nymphs between mortals and -immortals. This criticism is due to careless reading. The lines do not -mean that each tree is called the τέμενος of an immortal nymph, but -that a number of trees, each inhabited by a nymph, often form together -the τέμενος of an immortal god. A sanctuary of Artemis, for example, -might well be surrounded by trees which each harboured one of her -attendant nymphs. - -[399] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, II. no. 84. Cf. also no. 58. - -[400] Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, pp. 69, 70. - -[401] This belief however is not universal in Greece; in some few -districts a Nereid now, like a wolf in ancient times, is safer seen -first than seeing first. - -[402] Apoll. Rhod. _Argon._ II. 477 sqq. - -[403] i.e. past participle passive of ξεραίνω (anc. ξηραίνω). - -[404] Hom. _Od._ XIII. 103-4. - -[405] _De quorumdam Graec. opinat._ cap. xix. - -[406] _Id._ XIII. 39 sqq. - -[407] So I translate χελιδόνιον on the authority of a muleteer whom I -hired at Olympia; the modern form is χελιδόνι. It may be added that in -Greece the cuckoo-flower is often of a dark enough shade to justify the -epithet κυάνεον. - -[408] Artem. _Oneirocr._ II. 27. - -[409] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 102. Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, p. 69. -Δελτίον τῆς Ἱιστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος, II. p. 122. - -[410] Inscription on rock at entrance now barely legible. Cf. Paus. X. -32. 5, Strabo IX. 3, Aesch. _Eum._ 22. - -[411] Cf. Ulrichs, _Reisen und Forschungen in Griechenland_, I. p. 119, -Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 103. - -[412] Heuzey, _Le mont Olympe et l’Acarnanie_, pp. 204-5. - -[413] Hom. _Od._ VI. 105. - -[414] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 107. The title ἡ μεγάλη κυρά -must not be confused with the title ἡ κυρὰ τοῦ κόσμου (see above p. -89), which belongs to Demeter. - -[415] _Ibid._ - -[416] Cf. Paus. VIII. 35. 8, whence it appears probable that the -nymph Καλλιστώ was once identical with Artemis; see Preller, _Griech. -Mythol._ p. 304. - -[417] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 227. - -[418] Apoll. Rhod. III. 877. Callim. _Hymn to Artemis_, 15. - -[419] From Onorio Belli, _Descrizione dell’ isola di Candia_, in Museum -of Classical Antiqu., vol. II. p. 271. Cf. B. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. -108. Spratt, _Trav. in Crete_, I. p. 146. - -[420] Du Cange, _Gloss. med. et infim. Latin._ s.v. _Diana_. - -[421] Above, p. 119. - -[422] _Orph. Hymn_ 36 (35) _ad fin._ - -[423] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. xx. - -[424] For these two names see above, p. 21. - -[425] For the _Callicantzari_ see below, p. 190. - -[426] For _Burcolakes_ or _Vrykolakes_ see below, cap. IV. - -[427] _pulcras dominas_, a translation of the Nereids’ title καλὰς -ἀρχόντισσας, _ibid._ cap. XIX. - -[428] The title-page of this exceedingly rare work runs as follows:-- - - La description et histoire de l’isle de Scios ou Chios - par - Jerosme Justinian - -Gentil’homme ordinaire de la chambre du Roy Tres-Chrestien, fils -de Seigneur Vincent Justinian, l’un des Seigneurs de la dite Isle, -Chevalier de l’ordre de sa Majesté, Conseiller en son Conseil d’Estat -et Privé, et Ambassadeur extraordinaire du Roy, auprez de Sultan Selin, -Grand Seigneur de Constantinople. - - M.D.VI. - -In the copy formerly belonging to the historian Finlay and now in the -possession of the British School of Archaeology at Athens is found a -note by Finlay as follows:--‘Joh. Wilh. Zinkeisen in Geschichte des -osmanischen Reiches in Europa (Gotha, 1854), vol. ii. p. 90, note 2, -mentions a second printed copy as existing in the Mazarine Library at -Paris, and a manuscript copy in possession of Justiniani family at -Genoa. The date according to Zinkeisen should be not MDVI but MDCVI.’ -There is no designation of the press or place from which the volume -issued. - -[429] _op. cit._ bk vi. p. 59. - -[430] See above, p. 140. - -[431] _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, pp. 107 and 123. - -[432] Compare _Märchen_, etc. Song 56 and Stories 7, 19, with _Das -Volksleben_, p. 123. - -[433] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 129. - -[434] See above, p. 121. - -[435] Also in one word καλλικυρᾶδες or καλοκυρᾶδες. - -[436] Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 227; Pouqueville, _Voyage en -Grèce_, VI. p. 160; and above, p. 125. - -[437] _Reisen auf dem griech. Inseln_, III. pp. 45 and 182. - -[438] In Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, 1852, p. 648. - -[439] Passow, _Pop. Carm. Graec. Recent._ no. 524. - -[440] Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 130. - -[441] Curt. Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 31. Cf. -also Παρνασσός, IV. p. 773 (1880). - -[442] Cf. Theodore Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 144, who mentions also the -custom of shooting at the waterspout as a precaution. - -[443] Curt. Wachsmuth, _op. cit._ p. 30. - -[444] Schol. ad Apoll. Rhod. IV. 828, cited by Wachsmuth, _loc. cit._ - -[445] For passages from authors of the 11th century and onwards see -Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. iii., and Grimm, _Deutsche -Mythologie_, II. 1012. - -[446] Aristophanes, _Frogs_, 293. - -[447] Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 133. - -[448] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 224. - -[449] _Vespae_, 1177, and _Pax_, 758. - -[450] e.g. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, no. 4. - -[451] Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 193. - -[452] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, no. 4. Cf. Πολίτης, _l.c._ - -[453] Πολίτης, _l.c._ - -[454] e.g. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, nos. 4 and 32. - -[455] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 156. - -[456] Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, 1852, p. 653, and Δελτίον τὴς Ἱστορ. καὶ -Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρ. II. p. 135. - -[457] A few instances are collected by Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 141. - -[458] See Preller, _Griech. Myth._ p. 618. - -[459] Τὰ ἐς τὸν Τυανέα Ἀπολλώνιον, IV. 25 (p. 76). - -[460] _Metamorph._ I. cap. 11-19. - -[461] Lucian, _Philopseudes_, § 2. Strabo, I. p. 19. Schol. ad Arist. -_Vesp._ 1177. - -[462] See above, pp. 147-8. - -[463] _The Cyclades_, p. 496. - -[464] γιαλός = ancient αἰγιαλός, ‘the shore.’ - -[465] The differences in sound between γι and γ before ε, and between λ -and λλ, are negligible. In many words and dialects there are none. - -[466] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. iii.-viii. - -[467] Zenob. _Cent._ III. 3. Suidas s.v. Γελλοῦς παιδοφιλωτέρα (a -proverb). Hesych. s.v. Γελλώ. - -[468] The date is approximate only; for the authorship of the work in -question is, I understand, disputed. - -[469] This is merely a Latinised plural form; the Greek plural -regularly ends in -δες. - -[470] This word is recorded as still in use by Wachsmuth, _Das alte -Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 78. - -[471] _op. cit._ cap. viii. - -[472] Cf. above, p. 174, where however the accent is given as belonging -to the first syllable. The actual spelling in Allatius is Μωρρᾷ. The -word in form Μορῆ also occurs in conjunction with the mention of -Striges and Geloudes in a MS. of νομοκανόνες obtained by Dr W. H. D. -Rouse. See _Folklore_, vol. X. no. 2, p. 151. - -[473] Probably from Low Latin ‘_burdo_’ = _milvus_, a kite. - -[474] Compounded from Low Latin ‘_bardala_’ = _alauda_, a lark. A form -ἀναβαρδοῦ occurs in a similar list of names cited by Dr Rouse from a -MS. on magic. See _Folklore_, _l.c._ p. 162. The names said to have -been extorted by the Archangel Michael begin there with στρίγλα, γιλοῦ, -and belong clearly to a similar female demon. - -[475] The spelling in the text of Allatius before me is ψυχρανωσπάστρια. - -[476] Theo. Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 496. - -[477] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ XI. 39. - -[478] Hyginus, _Fabul._ 28, emend. Barth. - -[479] _Fasti_, VI. 131 ff. - -[480] The same apparently as the στρίγλος of Hesychius. The Greek -peasants are very vague about the names of any birds other than those -which they eat. - -[481] I. p. 473 (περὶ Στρυγγῶν), Migne, _Patrol. Graeco-Lat._ vol. -XCIV., p. 1604. - -[482] The word is εἰσοικίζει which suggests rather the ‘possession’ of -children by Striges as by devils. This however could hardly represent -fairly the popular belief. - -[483] Quoted by Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ cap. iii. - -[484] So also in Albania, Hahn, _Alb. Studien_, I. 163. - -[485] From Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. pp. 179-181. - -[486] Αδαμάντιος Ἰ. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά, pp. 293 sqq. - -[487] Du Cange, _Gloss. med. et infim. Latin._ s.vv. ‘Diana’ and -‘Striga.’ - -[488] _Ibid._ - -[489] A witch of Santorini told me that she had a narrow escape from -being burnt for a much less heinous crime, failure to get rain. See -above, p. 49. - -[490] Πολίτης in Παρνασσός, II. p. 261 (1878). - -[491] Πολίτης, _ibid._ p. 260. - -[492] Πολίτης, _ibid._ pp. 266-8. - -[493] Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικόν, s.v. (Πολίτης, _l.c._). - -[494] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1860, p. 1272 (Πολίτης, _l.c._). - -[495] Νεοελληνικὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, II. p. 191 (Πολίτης, _l.c._). - -[496] Ἀδαμάντιος Ν. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά, pp. 293 ff. Cf. above, p. 183. -The forms used are ἡ γοργόνα, τὸ γοργόνι, and γοργονικὸ παιδί. - -[497] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1871, p. 1843 (Πολίτης _l.c._). - -[498] Published by E. Legrand in _Collection de monuments de la langue -néo-hellénique_, no. 16, from two MSS. nos. 929 and 930 in Paris -(Bibliothèque Nationale). - -[499] See above, p. 173. - -[500] Passow, _Carm. Popul._ no. 337. - -[501] The date assigned is, I believe, not certain, but is not of great -importance. - -[502] _De monstris et beluis_, edited by Berger de Xivrey in -_Traditions Tératologiques_, p. 25. Πολίτης, _l.c._ - -[503] _Theog._ 270-288. - -[504] Cf. Pind. _Ol._ XIII. 90. - -[505] Kuhn in _Zeitschrift für vergleichende Sprachforschung_, vol. I. -pp. 460-1, connects γοργώ with γάργαρα and Sanskr. _garya, garyana_, in -sense of ‘the noise of the waves.’ Cf. Maury, _Hist. des relig. de la -Grèce antique_, I. p. 303. - -[506] No. 1002, found at Athens; date 600 B.C. or earlier. - -[507] No. 534, from Corinth; date about 550 B.C. - -[508] Πολίτης, _l.c._ p. 269. - -[509] Hom. _Od._ XII. 73 ff. - -[510] _Aen._ IV. 327. - -[511] Παραδόσεις, part ii. of the series Μελέται περὶ τοῦ βίου καὶ τῆς -γλώσσης τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ λαοῦ. - -[512] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1293. - -[513] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. 1295. - -[514] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix. - -[515] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1245. - -[516] _Ibid._ II. 1245. It might equally well however, as Polites -suggests, mean ‘deceivers,’ from the active πλανάω, ‘to lead astray.’ - -[517] So explained by Πολίτης, _op. cit._ 1247. - -[518] _Ibid._ II. 1245. - -[519] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 370 (from Syra). - -[520] _Ibid._ II. 1293 (from Myconos). - -[521] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 230. - -[522] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. p. 1291. In the Museum they are numbered -10333-4. - -[523] Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 367. - -[524] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. p. 1323. - -[525] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 148, and Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 333. - -[526] Leo Allatius (_De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix.) makes the -period a week only, ending on New Year’s Day. - -[527] For dialectic varieties of this name from Macedonia, the -Peloponnese, Crete, and some of the Cyclades, see Πολίτης, Παραδ., II. -1256. - -[528] ὁ μεγάλος or ὁ πρῶτος καλλικάντζαρος. Also, according to Πολίτης, -Παραδ. I. p. 369, ὁ ἀρχικαλλικάντζαρος. In Constantinople (acc. to -Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 343) he has a proper name Μαντρακοῦκος, which -however I cannot interpret satisfactorily. - -[529] ὁ κουτσοδαίμονας, or simply ὁ κουτσὸς, ὁ χωλός. Cf. B. Schmidt, -_Das Volksleben_, pp. 152-4. - -[530] The sequence of these cocks varies locally; their order is -sometimes black, white, red. - -[531] Lucian, _Philops._ cap. 14. - -[532] So Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. ix. - -[533] Several other versions in the same vein are recorded, cf. B. -Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 151, Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. pp. 337-41 and -II. p. 1305. - -[534] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 372. - -[535] For this version see Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 229. - -[536] See above, p. 149. - -[537] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 338 (from Samos). - -[538] Mod. Gk χαμολι̯ό, Anc. χαμαιλέων. - -[539] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1862, p. 1909. - -[540] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 347. - -[541] _Ibid._ I. 356. - -[542] _Ibid._ I. 338. - -[543] _Ibid._ I. 342. - -[544] ψίχα, ψίχα λουκάνικο, κομμάτι ξεροτήγανο, νὰ φᾶν οἱ -Καλλικάντζαροι, νὰ φύγουνε ’στὸν τόπο τους. For other versions see B. -Schmidt, _Das Volksl._ p. 150, and Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 342. - -[545] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. 154. - -[546] Cf. Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 357. - -[547] _Ibid._ II. p. 1308. - -[548] Abbott, _Maced. Folklore_, p. 74. - -[549] _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 157. - -[550] Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρ. τῆς Ἑλλάδος, II. pp. 137-141. - -[551] Ἰ. Μιχαήλ, Μακεδονικά, p. 39. Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1251 note 2. - -[552] _loc. cit._ - -[553] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. pp. 66 and 156. - -[554] Παραδόσεις, i. p. 334. - -[555] The word means literally men whose attendant _genii_ ( στοιχει̯ά, -on which see the next section) are ‘light’ ( ἀλαφρός) instead of being -solid and steady. The temperament of such persons is ill-balanced in -ordinary affairs, but peculiarly sensitive to supernatural influences; -it often involves the gift of second sight and other similar faculties. - -[556] Supernatural donkeys with the same habits are known also in Crete -under the name of ἀνασκελᾶδες (prob. formed from ἀνάσκελα, ‘on one’s -back,’ the position in which the rider soon finds himself). - -[557] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 342, from Γ. Λουκᾶς, Φιλολ. ἐπισκ. p. 12. - -[558] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 338. - -[559] Luke iii. 22. - -[560] Cf. above, p. 67. - -[561] _De quorundam Graec. opinat._ cap. X. - -[562] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1286. - -[563] Ἐμαν. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 130. - -[564] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις I. p. 344. - -[565] The word ζωτικά which is sometimes heard in the Cyclades is, I -suspect, merely a corrupt form of ξωτικά (on which see above, p. 67); -some writers however have derived it from the root of ζάω. But at any -rate in usage it denotes the same class of beings as the commoner form -ξωτικά. - -[566] _op. cit._ cap. X. Actually the earliest reference to the -Callicantzari which I have found occurs in _La description et histoire -de l’isle de Scios ou Chios_ by Jerosme Justinian, p. 61, where he -says, _Ils tiennent ... qu’il y a de certains esprits qui courent par -les grands chemins, et sont nommez Calican, Saros_. But inasmuch as -he does not record even the name correctly, his statement that these -beings are _esprits_ can have little weight as against that of Leo -Allatius. - -[567] _Das Volksleben_, p. 143. - -[568] Παραδόσεις, I. pp. 331-81, and II. pp. 1242-4. - -[569] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1257. - -[570] _The Cyclades_, pp. 360 and 388. Bent does not seem to have known -the ordinary form καλλικάντζαροι. - -[571] Abbott, _Maced. Folklore_, p. 73. - -[572] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 209. - -[573] In this, the ordinary, sense the word appears twice in Passow’s -_Popularia Carm._ nos. 142 and 200. See also his index, s.v. -καλιουντσήδαις. The Turks themselves borrowed the word _qālioum_ (our -‘galleon’) from the Franks. - -[574] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. pp. 1242 and 1244. - -[575] _Das Volksleben_, p. 144. - -[576] Schmidt, it should be said, was dubious about the existence of -this form. - -[577] In Bianchi, _Dict. Turc- fr._ II. p. 469, it is translated -‘loup-garou,’ Schmidt, _l.c._ - -[578] Schmidt, _l.c._ note 2, ‘esclave de la plus mauvaise espèce.’ - -[579] The previous relations between the Giustiniani, who controlled -the Genoese chartered company in Chios, and the Ottoman Empire seem to -have been purely commercial. - -[580] Quoted by Leo Allat. _de quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix. and -published in full by Σάθας. - -[581] If this was the origin of Suidas’ information, as seems almost -certain in view of its inaccuracy, his date cannot be earlier than that -of Psellus (flor. circa 1050). - -[582] d’Arnis, _Lexicon Med. et Infim. Latin._, explains _babuztus_ -(with other forms _babulus_, _baburrus_, and _baburcus_) by the words -_stultus_, _insanus_. - -[583] J. B. Navon, _Rouz Namé_, in the periodical _Fundgruben Orients_, -Vienna, 1814, vol. IV. p. 146, quoted by Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. -1249, note 1. - -[584] Ἄτακτα, IV. p. 211. - -[585] In the periodical Πανδώρα, 1866, XVI. p. 453. - -[586] Μελέτη, p. 73, note 6. - -[587] Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1252-3. - -[588] The word καλίκι or καλίγι is a diminutive form from the Latin -_caliga_. Besides its original meaning ‘shoe,’ it has acquired now -the sense of ‘hoof.’ The transition was clearly through the sense of -‘horse-shoe,’ as witness the verb καλιγόνω, ‘I shoe a horse.’ - -[589] This word has to be written with β to give the _v_-sound of υ -following ε. The ε drops, and the υ cannot then be used alone, for -except after α and ε it is sounded as a vowel. - -[590] Polites backs up this meaning by deriving _baboutzicarios_ (on -which see above, p. 217) from παποῦτσι (Arabic _bābouch_) ‘a shoe,’ but -reluctantly refuses to accept the identification of καλιοντζῆς (above, -p. 215) with γαλόντζης, a maker of γαλόντσας or ‘wooden shoes.’ Παραδ. -II. 1253. - -[591] Their Greek character is strongly emphasized by Balsamon, pp. -230-1. (Vol. 137 of Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._) - -[592] _loc. cit._ - -[593] Photius, _Biblioth._ 254, pp. 468-9, ed. Bekker, μυσαρὰς καὶ -μιαιφόνους τελετάς. - -[594] _Ibid._ δαιμονιώδης καὶ βδελυκτὴ ἑορτή. - -[595] _Ibid._ ὡς ἐνθέσμοις ἔργοις τοῖς ἀθεμίτοις καλλωπιζόμενοι. - -[596] Usener, _Acta S. Timothei_, p. 11 (Bonn). - -[597] Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._ Vol. 40, p. 220. - -[598] Edited by Cumont. - -[599] Balsamon, _loc. cit._ - -[600] Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1273-4. To this work I am indebted for most -of my instances of these celebrations during the ‘Twelve Days.’ - -[601] _Annual of the British School at Athens_, VI. p. 125. - -[602] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 31. - -[603] R. M. Dawkins, in _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, Vol. 26, Part -II. (1906), p. 193. - -[604] Dawkins, _op. cit._ p. 201, referring to a pamphlet, περὶ τῶν -ἀναστεναρίων καὶ ἄλλων τινῶν παραδόξων ἐθίμων καὶ προλήψεων, ὑπὸ Ἀ. -Χουρμουρζιάδου, Constantinople, 1873, p. 22. - -[605] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. III. p. 162. - -[606] _loc. cit._ - -[607] The word is certainly in my experience rare, and is not given -in Skarlatos’ Lexicon. But it occurs e.g. in a popular tradition from -Thessaly concerning the Callicantzari, in Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. -356. - -[608] Λεξικὸν τῆς καθ’ ἡμᾶς Ἑλληνικῆς διαλέκτου, s.v. κατσιασμένος. - -[609] Plutarch, _de εἰ apud Delphos_, 9 (p. 389). - -[610] Balsamon, p. 231 (Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._ Vol. 137). - -[611] Ulpian, _ad Dem._ p. 294. Cf. also Balsamon, _loc. cit._ - -[612] Müller and Donaldson, _History of the Literature of Ancient -Greece_, I. p. 382. - -[613] Smith, _Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities_, s.v. -_Dionysia_. - -[614] See above, p. 151. - -[615] I write _d_ in the place of the Greek τ, which when following ν -always has the sound of English _d_. - -[616] It is probably formed from τέντα, ‘a tent,’ which clearly comes -from the Latin. Some however derive directly from the anc. Gk τιταίνω. -The question of origin however does not affect my illustration of the -later change of τ into τσ. - -[617] Heard in Sciathos and kindly communicated to me by Mr A. J. B. -Wace. - -[618] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxv. 6; Dioscor. v. 45; Sophocles Byzant. -_Lexicon_, s.v. ἀρκεύθινος οἶνος. - -[619] Marcellus Empir., cap. 20 (p. 139). - -[620] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 380. - -[621] Lucian, _Zeuxis_, cap. 6. - -[622] Nonnus, _Dionys._ 13. 44 καὶ λασίων Σατύρων, Κενταυρίδος αἶμα -γενέθλης. This reference I owe to Miss Harrison, _l. c._ - -[623] _Iliad_, II. 743. - -[624] Lucian, _Zeuxis_, cap. 5. - -[625] Isaiah xxxiv. 14. - -[626] I cannot of course absolutely affirm that the word is extinct in -every dialect even now; but the only suggestion of its use which I can -find is in a story of Hahn’s collection (_Alban. und Griech. Märch._ -II. 189), where the German translation has the strange word ‘Wolfsmann.’ - -[627] _Pyth._ III. 1-4. - -[628] _Ibid._ IV. 115. - -[629] _Ibid._ IV. 119. - -[630] _Ibid._ III. 45. - -[631] _Pyth._ II. 29. - -[632] _Pyth._ II. 42-48. - -[633] Hesiod, _Shield of Heracl._ 178-188. - -[634] Hom. _Il._ I. 262-8. - -[635] Hom. _Il._ II. 743. - -[636] _Il._ XI. 832. - -[637] _Ibid._ - -[638] _Il._ IV. 219. - -[639] Hom. _Od._ XXI. 303. - -[640] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 382. - -[641] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 173 ff. - -[642] _Pyth._ IV. 80. - -[643] _Pyth._ III. 45. - -[644] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 175-6. - -[645] Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, I. p. 178. - -[646] _De bello Gothico_, IV. 20 (Niebuhr, 1833, p. 565). - -[647] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 177-8. - -[648] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 382. - -[649] Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, I. p. 174. The vase in question -is figured by Colvin in _Journ. of Hellenic Studies_, Vol. I. p. 131, -Pl. 2, and by Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena_ etc. p. 384. - -[650] Pind. _Pyth._ III. 45 ff. (transl. Myers). - -[651] Pind. _Pyth._ IX. 31 ff. - -[652] _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I. p. 308. For a mass of instances, see -pp. 308-315. - -[653] _Op. cit._ I. p. 312. - -[654] Verg. _Ecl._ VIII. 95. - -[655] Hesiod, _Shield of Heracles_, 178 ff. Cf. also the names Ἄγριος -and Ἔλατος (suggesting ἐλάτη, the fir-tree from which their weapons -were made) in Apollodor. II. 5. 4. The name Ἄσβολος in Hesiod, meaning -‘soot,’ I cannot interpret; for it is hard to suppose that the ancient -Centaurs, like the Callicantzari, came down the chimney. But the word -is possibly corrupt; for Ovid (_Met._ XII. 307) refers to an augur -Astylus among the Centaurs. - -[656] Cf. Miss J. Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek -Religion_, pp. 383-4. - -[657] Paus. VIII. 42. 1-4. Cf. VIII. 25. 5. - -[658] Apollodorus, II. 5. 4. - -[659] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 339. - -[660] Stories of their coming to cook frogs etc. at the hearths of men -occur, but only confirm the general belief that they have no fires of -their own at which to cook, and are in general afraid of fire. - -[661] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1297 and 1337. - -[662] The shift of accent is due to the synizesis of the syllables --ει-α, pronounced now as -yá. - -[663] Du Cange, s.v. στοιχεῖον. - -[664] _Coloss._ ii. 3 and 20; _Galat._ iv. 3 and 9. - -[665] _Galat._ iv. 9. - -[666] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ no. 524. According to Σκαρλάτος (Λεξικόν, -s.v.) στοιχειόν is sometimes a term of abuse; on that statement I base -my interpretation of the folk-song. - -[667] Du Cange, s.v. - -[668] Du Cange, s.v. - -[669] Georg. Cedrenus (circ. 1050) _Historiarum Compendium_, p. 197 -(edit. Paris). - -[670] Cedrenus, _ibid._ - -[671] στοιχεῖον pro eo quod τέλεσμα (whence by Arabic corruption our -‘talisman’) vocant Graeci, usurpant alii. Du Cange, _ibid._ - -[672] Codinus (15th century), _de Originibus Constantinop._ p. 30 -(edit. Paris) § 63. - -[673] Codinus, _ibid._ p. 20. § 39. - -[674] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. XXI. - -[675] The active of the verb also survives in a special sense, for -which see below, p. 267. The modern form is στοιχειόνω: cf. δηλόνω for -δηλόω, etc. - -[676] See above, p. 69. - -[677] Verg. _Aen._ V. 84 ff. - -[678] _Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite_, 272. Cf. above, p. 156. - -[679] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. XXI. - -[680] B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 185. - -[681] i.e. οἰκοκύριος, with initial ν attached (first in the -accusative) from the article (τὸν) preceding. This is the ordinary word -for ‘the master of a house.’ - -[682] i.e. δαίμων τοῦ τόπου. The word is used in Cythnos and Cyprus. -Cf. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 124. Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, III. p. 286. - -[683] For detailed stories in point, see Leo Allatius, _l. c._, B. -Schmidt, _op. cit._ pp. 186, 187. - -[684] _Char._ 16. - -[685] Suidas, s.vv. οἰωνιστική and Ξενοκράτης. - -[686] s.v. ὄφιν οἰκουρόν. - -[687] VIII. 41. - -[688] Cf. Passow, _Popul. Carm._, Index, s.v. στοιχεῖον. - -[689] Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 134. - -[690] Πολίτης, _l. c._ - -[691] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 155. - -[692] Καμπούρογλου, _op. cit._ I. 226. - -[693] e.g. Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 511, 512. - -[694] Ἀντωνιάδης, Κρητηΐς, p. 247 (from Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 141). - -[695] Πολίτης, _ibid._ - -[696] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, pp. 28-30 (Πολίτης, _ibid._). - -[697] W. H. D. Rouse in _Folklore_, June, 1899 (Vol. x. no. 2), pp. 182 -ff. - -[698] Passow, no. 511, and Ζαμπέλιος, Ἄσματα δημοτικὰ τῆς Ἑλλάδος, p. -757. - -[699] So Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 196. Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ -δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 93, mentions also a dog. - -[700] So also in Zacynthos and Cephalonia. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. -196. - -[701] e.g. in Cimolus, Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 45. - -[702] Cf. Ricaut, _Hist. de l’église grecque_, pp. 369-70. - -[703] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 148. - -[704] _The Cyclades_, p. 132. - -[705] Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 138. - -[706] Ricaut, _Hist. de l’église grecque_, p. 367 (from Πολίτης, -_ibid._). - -[707] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 28. - -[708] _Das Volksleben_, p. 196, note 2. - -[709] Since this was written, a new work of Prof. Polites ( Μελέται -περὶ τοῦ βίου καὶ τῆς γλώσσης τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ λαοῦ, Παραδόσεις) has come -into my hands, and I find that he has modified his views. Cf. below, -pp. 272-3, where I insert a suggestion made by Polites, _op. cit._ II. -p. 1089. - -[710] Suidas, Λεξικόν, s.v. Μάμας. The statement is corroborated -by Codinus, περὶ θεαμάτων, p. 30, who adds to the human victims -‘multitudes of sheep and oxen and fowls.’ From Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 141, -note 1. - -[711] Hom. _Il._ VII. 442 ff. - -[712] Hom. _Il._ XII. 3-33. - -[713] See below, p. 273. - -[714] _Agam._ 214. - -[715] _Agam._ 1418. - -[716] IV. 9. 1-5. - -[717] VI. 20. 2-5. - -[718] Porphyrius, _De abstinentia_, II. 56. Plutarch, _Themistocles_, -13. - -[719] This view of the story I take from Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. -1089. - -[720] V. 4. 4. - -[721] _Pausanias’ Description of Greece_, III. p. 468. - -[722] Pausanias, I. 26. 1. - -[723] Schol. ad Aristoph. _Nubes_, 508. - -[724] Miss Jane Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, -p. 327 ff. - -[725] See Roscher, _Lexicon d. Mythol._ I. 2468 ff. - -[726] Lucian, _Alexander vel Pseudomantis_, cap. XIV. - -[727] See Miss Jane Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek -Religion_, pp. 17-20, where the two reliefs in question are reproduced. - -[728] For ballads dealing with this theme, see Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 133, -and Ᾱραβάντινος, Συλλογὴ δημωδῶν ἀσμάτων τῆς Ἠπείρου, no. 451. - -[729] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 197. - -[730] _Ibid._ p. 198. - -[731] He used a neuter form, τὰ ἀράπια, which I have not found -elsewhere. - -[732] A similar method of laying _vrykólakes_ is reported from Samos by -Πολίτης (Παραδόσεις, I. 580). In this case a wizard ‘took three calves -born at one birth and drove them three times round the churchyard, -saying some magic words.’ - -[733] ὁ βῳδοκέφαλας. The story as I give it is not a verbatim report of -what I heard; as usual, I had to rely on my memory at the time and make -notes afterwards. - -[734] This is the form which I heard used constantly in the island -instead of the more common ποτάμι (τὸ). - -[735] This however must have been prior to the middle of the 17th -century; for a history of the island published in 1657 says, ‘cette -Isle ... n’est arrousée d’aucun ruisseau ou fontaine.’ Père François -Richard, _Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Santorini_, p. 35. - -[736] Soph. _Trach._ 10 ff. - -[737] Formed from the ancient δράκων as Χάρος and Χάροντας from Χάρων. -Cf. above, p. 98. There is a feminine δρακόντισσα or δράκισσα. - -[738] Cf. Philostr. _Vit. Apollon._ III. 8. Aelian, _de natur. anim._ -XVI. 39. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 191. - -[739] Only one variety of dragon, the χαμοδράκι or ‘ground-dragon,’ is -often harmless. It is of pastoral tastes and consorts with the ewes and -she-goats, and is more noted among the shepherds for its lasciviousness -than for any other quality. - -[740] Artem. _Oneirocr._ II. 13 (p. 101). Cf. Festus, 67, 13. - -[741] Lucian, _Philopseudes_, cap. XXXII. Zenobius, _Cent._ II. 1. The -same punishment is in one story inflicted by a Callicantzaros on a -midwife who had deceived him into believing that his newborn child was -male. After sending her away with a sackful of gold, he discovered her -deceit, and on her arrival at home the gold had turned to ashes. See -above, p. 199. - -[742] Ἀδαμάντιος Ἰ. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά (published first in Δελτίον τῆς -Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος, Vol. V. pp. 277 sqq.). - -[743] For the first half of this story, see above, p. 183. - -[744] ἀθάνατο νερό, _op. cit._ pp. 299 and 315. - -[745] e.g. ἀθάνατα μῆλα, ‘immortal apples,’ _op. cit._ pp. 311 and 316. -ἀθάνατο καρποῦζι, ‘immortal water-melon,’ pp. 297 and 315. ἀθάνατο -γαροῦφαλο, ‘immortal gilly-flower,’ p. 317. The translation of this -last is correctly that which I have given, but the peasants all over -Greece will call almost any bright and scented flower by this same name. - -[746] See above, p. 137. - -[747] Cf. above, pp. 143-4. - -[748] _Glossar. med. et infim. Graecitatis_ (p. 1541), s.v. τελώνιον. - -[749] _Ibid._, Damasc. Hierodiac. _Serm._ 3. - -[750] _Ibid._, Maximus Cythaer. Episc. - -[751] _Ibid._, Georg. Hamartolus. - -[752] τελώνας καὶ διαλόγους (for which I read δικολόγους with Bern. -Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 172). - -[753] _Ibid._, _Euchologium_. - -[754] Luke xii. 20. - -[755] Du Cange, _ibid._ τελωνάρχαι, λογοθέται, πρακτοψηφισταί, etc. - -[756] See above, p. 110. - -[757] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 362-3. - -[758] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, ἡ Σινασός, p. 81. - -[759] See above, p. 109. - -[760] Testimony to the same belief is cited by Du Cange (s.v. τελώνιον) -from an anonymous astronomical work. - -[761] For references see Preller, _Griech. Mythol._ II. 105-6. - -[762] Villoison, _Annales des voyages_, II. p. 180, cited by B. -Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 174, note 4. - -[763] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 166. - -[764] _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 154. - -[765] _Das Volksleben_, p. 173. - -[766] _Griech. Märch._ Vol. II. no. 64. - -[767] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 77. - -[768] Cf. above, p. 53. - -[769] For this term see above, p. 204. - -[770] B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 180. - -[771] _Ibid._ note 6. - -[772] _Op. cit_. p. 181. - -[773] _Op. cit._ p. 181. - -[774] _Op. cit._ p. 182. - -[775] I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this translation. The word -might possibly mean ‘he has had his shadow trampled on,’ and has been -hurt indirectly through an injury inflicted upon his shadow-_genius_. - -[776] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 79. - -[777] _Il._ XVIII. 535-8. - -[778] Plato, _Phaedo_, p. 107 D. - -[779] _Rep._ p. 617 D, E. Cf. 620 D, E. - -[780] Meineke, _Fragm. Com. Graec._ IV. p. 238. - -[781] Theocr. IV. 40. - -[782] I do not of course wish to imply that in the every-day usage of -these words the thought of a guardian-_genius_ was present to men’s -minds; but the first formation of them can only have sprung from this -belief. - -[783] _Aen._ VI. 743. - -[784] Plato, _Theag._ 128 D. - -[785] _Ibid._ E. - -[786] Both Plato (_Apol._ 40 A) and Xenophon (_Mem._ I. 1. 2-4), -compare Socrates’ converse with his _genius_ with μαντική or -‘inspiration.’ - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE COMMUNION OF GODS AND MEN. - - ἜΤΙ ΤΟΊΝΥΝ ΚΑῚ ΘΥΣΊΑΙ ΠΑ͂ΣΑΙ ΚΑῚ ΟἿΣ ΜΑΝΤΙΚῊ - ἘΠΙΣΤΑΤΕΙ͂--ΤΑΥ͂ΤΑ Δ’ ἘΣΤῚΝ Ἡ ΠΕΡῚ ΘΕΟΥΣ ΤΕ ΚΑῚ ἈΝΘΡΏΠΟΥΣ ΠΡῸΣ - ἈΛΛΉΛΟΥΣ ΚΟΙΝΩΝΊΑ--ΟΥ̓ ΠΕΡῚ ἌΛΛΟ ΤΊ ἘΣΤΙΝ Ἢ ΠΕΡῚ ἜΡΩΤΟΣ ΦΥΛΑΚΉΝ ΤΕ ΚΑῚ - ἼΑΣΙΝ. - - PLATO, _Symposium_, p. 188. - - -The short sketch which has been given of the attitude of the Greek -peasantry towards the Christian Godhead and all the host of assistant -saints, and also the more detailed account of those pagan deities -or demons whom the common-folk’s awe, not unmingled with affection, -has preserved from oblivion through so many centuries, have, I hope, -justified the statement that the religion of Greece both is now, -and--if a multitude of coincidences in the very minutiae of ancient and -modern beliefs speak at all for the continuity of thought--from the -dawn of Greek history onward through its brief bright noontide to its -long-drawn dusk and night illumined even now only by borrowed lights -has ever been, a form, and a little changed form, of polytheism. - -Whatever be the merits and the demerits of such a religion in contrast -with the worship of one almighty God, most thinkers will concede -to it the property of bringing the divine element within more easy -comprehension of the majority of mankind. Proper names, limited -attributes, definite duties and spheres of work--these give a starting -point from which the peasant can set out towards a conception of gods. -He himself bears a name, he himself has qualities, he himself performs -his round of work; and though his name be writ smaller than that of the -being whom he strives to imagine--though his virtues and perhaps his -vices be less pronouncedly white and black--though his daily task be -more trivial--yet in one and all of these things he stands on common -ground with his deities; they differ from him in degree rather than -in kind; he has but to picture a race of beings somewhat stronger and -somewhat nobler than the foremost of his own fellow-men, and these whom -he thus imagines are gods. A single spirit omniscient and omnipotent -is too distant, too inaccessible from any known ground. Lack of the -capacity to form or to grasp lofty ideals carries with it at least the -compensation of closer intimacy with the supernatural and the divine. - -It may therefore be expected that in the course of the intellectual -and spiritual development of any primitive people, the more accurately -they learn to measure their own imperfections and limitations, and the -more imaginatively they magnify the wisdom and power of their gods, -the wider and more impassable grows the chasm that divides mortal from -immortal, human from divine; communion of man and god becomes less -frequent, less direct. Such certainly was the experience of the Greek -nation in some measure; but, owing probably to an innate and persistent -vanity which at all times has made the race blind to its own failings, -that experience was less acute than in the case of other peoples. There -had been days indeed when their gods walked the earth with men and -counselled them in troubles and fought in their battles; there had been -days when the chiefest of all the gods sought a hero’s aid against his -giant foes; there had been days when men and women might aspire even -to wedlock with immortals, and to possess children half-divine. In -those days too death was not the only path by which the heavens or the -house of Hades might be gained. Kings and prophets, warriors and fair -women passed thither by grace of the gods living and unscathed; nay, -even personal skill or prowess emboldened minstrel and hero to match -themselves with the gods below, and wielding of club or sweeping of -lyre sufficed to open the doors for their return to earth. - -But those days soon passed; men walked and spoke and held open -fellowship with the gods no more; the very poetry and imagination of -the Greek temperament so fast outstripped in rapidity of development -the growth of material or moral resources, that the rift between their -religious ideals and the realities of their life and character ever -widened, until the daily and familiar intercourse of their ancestors -with the gods seemed to them a condition of life irretrievable and -thenceforth impossible. This result was observed and remarked by the -Greeks themselves, but the process by which it had come about was not -agreed. To one school of thought, it was the degeneracy of mankind -through successive ages--the golden age in which men lived as gods and -passed hence, as it were in sleep, to become spirits clothed in air, -administering upon earth the purposes of mighty Zeus--the silver age -wherein childhood was still long and innocent, and, though men’s riper -years brought cares and quarrels and indifference to holy things, yet -when the earth covered them they were called blessed and received a -measure of honour--the bronze age when all men’s minds were set on war -and their stalwart arms were busy with brazen weapons, and by each -other’s hands they were sent down to the chill dark house of Hades -and their names were no more known--the age of heroes who were called -half-divine, who fought in the Theban and the Trojan wars, and when -the doom of death overtook them were granted a life apart from other -men in the islands of the blest, because they had been nobler and more -righteous than those of the age of bronze and had stemmed for a time -the current of degeneracy--the fifth age in which the depravity of man -grows apace and soon there will be nought but discord between father -and son, and no regard will be paid to guest nor comrade nor brother, -and children will slight their aged parents, and the voice of gods will -be unknown to them[787]--to one school of thought, I say, it was simply -and solely this decline of the human race, swift and only once checked, -that was held accountable for their estrangement from the powers above -them. - -But such thinkers were in a minority. Humility and self-dissatisfaction -were and are qualities foreign to the ordinary Greek. He observed the -wide gulf that separated him from those whom he worshipped, but without -any sense of unworthiness, without any depression of spirit. He was not -despondent over his own shortcomings and limitations, but was filled -rather with a larger complacency in the thought that, incapable though -he might be to reproduce actually in his own life and character much -of the beauty and nobility of his gods, he was so gifted in mind and -godlike in understanding, that in his moments of highest imagination -and most spiritual exaltation he could soar to that loftier plane -whereon was enacted all the divine life, and could visualise his gods -and feel the closeness of their presence. The motive of the highest -acts of Greek worship seems to have been not the self-abasement of -the worshipper and the glorification of the worshipped, but rather an -obliteration of the distinctions between man and god, and a temporary -attainment by the human of spiritual equality and companionship with -the divine. The votary of Bacchus in his hours of wildest ecstacy -enjoyed so completely this sense of equality and of real union with the -god, that even to others it seemed fitting that he should be called by -the god’s own name[788]. - -But the hours, in which the Greeks of the historical age attained by -a sort of religious frenzy such intimacy with their gods as their -ancestors were famed to have enjoyed all their life long, were few and -far between. The means of communion had become in general less direct, -less personal. Yet even so the desire for communion continued unabated, -and the belief in it still pervaded every phase of life. Intellectual -progress had curiously little effect upon the dominant religious -ideas. A strongly conservative attachment to ancient tradition and -custom was strangely blended with that progressive spirit which made -the intellectual development of the Athenians unique in its swiftness, -as in its scope, among all peoples known to history. Their minds -welcomed new speculations, new doctrines; but their hearts clung to -the old unreasonable faith. Ancestral ideas remained for them the -sole foundation of religion. Each poet or philosopher in drama or in -dialogue, each man in his own heart, was free to build upon it and to -ornament his superstructure as he would; and his work found a certain -sanction in the appeal which it made to other men’s sense of truth and -of beauty. But for the foundation the _fiat_ of antiquity had been -pronounced and was immutable. Plato’s reasoned exposition of the soul’s -immortality culminates in an Apocalypse ratified by the old mythology; -and a quotation from Homer ever served to quash or to confirm the -subtlest argument. - -That the foundation-stone was not, in the estimate of reason, well and -truly laid, that the basis of religion was insecure, must have been -obvious to many. Pindar saw it, and, by refusing to impute to the gods -any deed or purpose which his own heart condemned as ungodly, strove -to repair its defects; Euripides too saw it, and scoffed at those who -would build on so unstable a base. But the mass of men, though they -also must have seen, were little troubled, it would seem, either to -demolish or to repair. They accepted the old beliefs and ceremonies -because they were sanctioned by the authority or the experience of -past ages; and if sober reasoning and criticism exposed flaws and -inconsistencies therein, what matter? They were, as they still are, -a people incapable of any mental equilibrium; the mood of the hour -swayed them now to emotions, now to reasonings; they did not cultivate -consistency; they could not sit still and preserve an even balance -between the passions of the heart and the judgements of the intellect, -but threw their whole selves into the one scale, and the other for the -moment was as vanity. - -In the whole complex and irrational scheme of religion thus accepted, -nothing was more highly valued than the means by which divine counsel -was obtained for the conduct both of public and of private affairs. -Omens were regularly taken before battle, at the critical moment when -we should prefer to trust experience and generalship. Oracles were -consulted as to the sites for planting colonies, in cases where a -surveyor’s report might have seemed more decisive. But the efficacy -of these old methods of consulting the gods went almost unchallenged. -It seems seldom to have occurred to men’s minds that those untoward -signs in the victim’s entrails, which perhaps delayed tactics on which -victory depended, were the symptoms of an internal disease and not -the handiwork of a deity, or that the inferior and ambiguous verse, -in which the gods condescended to give counsel, more often confused -than confirmed human judgement. Even of the philosophers, according -to Cicero[789], two only, Xenophanes and Epicurus, went so far as to -deny the validity of all means of communion; and Socrates, for all his -questioning and testing of truth, obeyed without question the whispered -warnings of a _daemon_, and in deference to the ambiguous exhortations -of a vision spent some of his last days in turning Aesop’s fables into -verse, that so he might go into the presence of the gods with his -conscience clear. Thus, though men no longer expected to look upon the -faces or to hear the voices of the gods, they still felt them to be -close at hand, easy of access, ready to counsel, to warn, to encourage; -and the methods of communion, in proportion as they stand condemned by -reason, commend so much the more the steady faith of the people who -used them and never doubted their efficacy. The answer of the ordinary -man to those critics, who questioned the validity of divination merely -because they could not understand the way in which it operated, is well -expressed by Cicero: ‘It is a poor sort of cleverness to try to upset -by sophistry facts which are confirmed by the experience of ages. The -reason of those facts I cannot discover; the dark ways of Nature, I -suppose, conceal it from my view. God has not willed that I should know -the reason, but only that I should use the means[790].’ - -The Greek nation saw many philosophies rise and fall, but it clung -always to the religion which it had inherited. The doctrines of Plato -and Aristotle, Zeno and Epicurus, became for the Greek people as though -they had never been; but the old polytheism of the Homeric and earlier -ages lived. Faith justified by experience was a living force; the -conclusions of reason a mere fabrication. And an essential part of that -polytheism which was almost instinctive in the Greeks was their belief -in the possibility of close and frequent communion with their gods. - -Now the means of communion between men and gods are obviously -twofold--the methods by which men make their communications to the -gods, and the methods by which the gods make their communications to -men. The former class of communications involve for the most part -questions or petitions; the latter are mainly the responses thereto; -and it would seem natural to consider them in that order. But inasmuch -as more is known of the ancient methods by which the gods signified -their will to men than of the reverse process, it will be convenient -first to establish the unity of modern folklore with ancient religion -in this division of the subject, and afterwards to discuss how any -modern ideas concerning the means open to man of communicating with the -gods may bear upon the less known corresponding department of ancient -religion. For if we find that the theory no less than the practice of -divination, that is, of receiving and interpreting divine messages, -has been handed down from antiquity almost unchanged, there will be -a greater probability that, along with the general modern system of -sacrifices or offerings which accompany men’s petitions, a curious -conception of human sacrifice in particular which I once encountered is -also a relic of ancient religion. - -The survival of divination then in its several branches first claims -our attention. The various modes employed are for the most part -enumerated by Aeschylus[791] in the passage where Prometheus recounts -the subjects in which he claimed to have first instructed mankind: -dreams and their interpretation; chance words (κληδόνες) overheard, -often conveying another meaning to the hearer than that which the -speaker intended; meetings on the road (ἐνόδιοι σύμβολοι), where the -person or object encountered was a portent of the traveller’s success -or failure in his errand; auspices in the strict sense of the word, -observations, that is, of the flight and habits of birds; augury -from a sacrificial victim, either by inspection of its entrails or -by signs seen in the fire in which it was being consumed. To these -arts Suidas[792] adds ‘domestic divination’ (οἰκοσκοπικόν)--the -interpretation of various trivial incidents of domestic life--palmistry -(χειροσκοπικόν), and divination from the twitching of any part of -the body (παλμικόν). Finally of course there was direct inspiration -(μαντική), either temporary, as in an individual seer, or permanent, as -at the oracle of Delphi. - -Whether the common-folk ever distinguished the comparative values of -these many methods of divination may well be doubted. The Delphic -oracle, I suspect, attained its high prestige more because it was ready -to supply immediately on demand a more or less direct and detailed -answer to a definite question, than because personal inspiration was -held to be in any way a surer channel for divine communications than -were other means of divination. Some thinkers indeed, chiefly of the -Peripatetic school[793], were inclined to draw distinctions between -‘natural’ and ‘skilled’ divination[794]. The ‘natural’ methods, -including dreams and all direct inspiration, were accepted by them; the -‘skilled’ methods, those which required the services of a professional -augur or interpreter, were disallowed. But the division proposed was -in itself bad--for dreams do not by any means exclusively belong -to the first class, but probably in the majority of cases require -interpretation by experts--and, apart from that consideration, the -distinction was the invention of a philosophical sect and not an -expression of popular feeling. There is nothing to show that the -common-folk, believing as they did in the practicability of communion -with their gods, esteemed one means of divination as intrinsically more -valuable than another. - -Nor was there any logical reason for such discrimination. Granted -that there were gods superior to man in knowledge and in power and -also willing to communicate with him, no restriction could logically -be set upon the means of communication which they might choose to -adopt. There was no reason why they should speak by the mouth of a -priestess intoxicated with mephitic vapours or disturb men’s sleep with -visions rather than use the birds as their messengers or write their -commandment on the intestines of a sacrificial victim. - -A certain justification for accepting some means of divination, such -as intelligible dreams, and for suspecting others, might certainly -have been found in distrust of any human intermediary; vagrant and -necessitous oracle-mongers infested the country; and even the priestess -of Delphi, as history shows, was not always superior to political and -pecuniary considerations. But experience of fraud did not apparently -teach distrust; the fact that oracles and other means of divination -were undoubtedly often abused did not cause the Greek people to -reject the proper use of them; down to this day all the chief methods -of ancient divination still continue. In some cases, we shall see, -the modern employment of such methods is a mere survival of ancient -custom without any intelligent religious motive; but in others there -is abundant evidence that the modern folk are still actuated by the -feelings which so dominated the lives of their ancestors--the belief -in, and the desire for, close and frequent communion with the powers -above. - -Direct inspiration is a gift which at the present day a man is not -inclined to claim for himself, though he will often attribute it to -another; for it implies insanity. But though the gift is not therefore -envied, it is everywhere respected. Mental derangement, which appears -to me to be exceedingly common among the Greek peasants, sets the -sufferer not merely apart from his fellows but in a sense above them. -His utterances are received with a certain awe, and so far as they -are intelligible are taken as predictions. He is in general secure -from ill-treatment, and though he do no work he is not allowed to -want. The strangest case which I encountered was that of a man, -unquestionably mad, who wandered from place to place and seemed to be -known everywhere. I met him in all three times, in Athens, in Tenos, -and in Thessaly. He had no fixed home, did no work, and was usually -penniless; but a wild manner, a rolling eye, and an extraordinary power -of conducting his part of a conversation in metrical, if not highly -poetical, form sufficed to obtain for him lodging, food, and clothing, -and even a free passage, it appeared, on the Greek coasting steamers. -Whether the long monologues in verse in which he sometimes indulged -were also improvisations, I could not of course tell; but once to have -heard and seen his delivery of them was to understand why, among a -superstitious people, he passed for a prophet. He was a modern type of -those old seers whose name μάντεις was believed by Plato to have been -formed from the verb μαίνεσθαι, ‘to be mad’; his frenzy really gave the -appearance of inspiration. - -Dreams furnish a more sober and naturally also a more general means -of communion with the gods; and the belief in them as a channel of -divine revelation is both firmly rooted and widely spread. This indeed -is only natural. The change from paganism to Christianity, even if it -had been more thorough and complete than it actually has been, would -probably not have affected this article of faith. So long as a people -believe in any one or more deities not wholly removed from human -affairs, it is logically competent for them to regard their dreams as a -special communication to them from heaven; and Christianity, far from -repudiating the old pagan idea, confirmed it by biblical authority. The -Greek Church, as we shall see, has made effective use of it. - -The degree of importance universally attached in old time to dreams is -too well known to all students of Greek literature to call for comment. -Artemidorus’ prefatory remarks to his _Oneirocritica_, or ‘Treatise on -the interpretation of dreams,’ and his criticism of former exponents of -the same science, would alone prove that public interest in the subject -must indeed have been great to stimulate so serious and so large a -literature. There is the same practical evidence of a similar interest -in modern Greece. Books of the same nature are sought after and -consulted no less eagerly now than then. A new edition of some Μέγας -Ὀνειροκρίτης, or ‘Great Dream-interpreter,’ figures constantly in the -advertisements of Athenian newspapers, and the public demand for such -works is undeniable. In isolated homesteads, to which the Bible has -never found its way, I have several times seen a grimy tattered copy -of such a book preserved among the most precious possessions of the -family, and honoured with a place on the shelf where stood the _icon_ -of the household’s patron-saint and whence hung his holy lamp. - -One of the pieces of information most frequently imparted to men in -dreams is the situation of some buried treasure. The precautions -necessary for unearthing it, namely complete reticence as to the -dream, and the sacrifice of a cock, have already been mentioned[795]. -This kind of dream has been utilized by the Greek Church. There is -no article of ecclesiastical property of more value than a venerable -_icon_; to any church or monastery which aspires to become a great -religious centre an ancient and reputable _icon_, competent to work -miracles, is indispensable. - -Now the most obvious way of obtaining such pictures is, it seems, to -dig them up. A few weeks underground will have given the right tone -to the crudest copy of crude Byzantine art, and all that is required, -in order to determine the spot for excavation, is a dream on the part -of some person privy to the interment. It was on this system that the -miracle-working _icon_ of Tenos came to be unearthed on the very day -that the standard of revolt from Turkey was raised, thus making the -island the home of patriotism as well as of religion. And this is no -solitary example; the number of _icons_ exhumed in obedience to dreams -is immense; wherever the traveller goes in Greece, he is wearied with -the same reiterated story, and if the picture in question happens to -be of the Panagia, there is often an appendix to the effect that the -painter of it was St Luke--an attribution which can only have been -based on clerical criticism of the style. Inspection is now difficult; -the old pagan custom of covering venerable statues with gold or silver -foil by way of thank-offering[796] has, to avoid idolatry, been -transferred to _icons_; and in many cases only the faces and the hands -of the saints depicted are left visible, the outlines of the rest -of the picture being merely incised upon the silver foil. But, with -inspection thus limited, the layman does not detect in any crudity of -style a sufficient reason why the saintly painter, if only he could -have foreseen the ordinary decoration of Greek churches, should have -had his productions put out of sight in the ground. Nevertheless the -story of the origin of the _icon_ is believed as readily as the story -of its finding. - -Nor is it only in stories that the discovery of _icons_ in obedience -to dreams is heard of. During my stay in Greece a village schoolmaster -embarrassed the Education Office by applying for a week’s holiday in -order to direct a party of his fellow-villagers in digging up an _icon_ -of which he had dreamt, and to build a chapel for it on the spot. -It was felt that a body concerned with religious as well as secular -instruction ought not to commit the impiety of refusing such a request, -but it was feared that other schoolmasters would be encouraged to dream. - -Besides those visions which are concerned with the finding of treasure -or of _icons_, that class of dream also may be noticed in which is -given some divine communication as to the healing of the sick. Many a -time I have met in some sanctuary of miraculous repute peasants from a -far-off village, who have travelled from one end of Greece to another, -bringing wife or child, in the faith that mind will be restored or -sickness healed; time after time their story is the same, that they -were bidden in a dream to go and tarry so many days in such a church, -and they have started off at once, obedient to what they feel to be a -promise of divine help, begging their way may be for many days, but -unflinchingly hopeful. And then comes the long sojourn in a strange -village, for a mere visit is not always enough; weeks and months they -wait, sleeping each night in the holy precincts and if possible at the -foot of the _icon_, hoping and believing that some mysterious virtue of -the place will heal the sufferer, or at the least that in a fresh dream -they will be told what is next to be done. And if nothing happen--for -now and then rest or change of air or, it may be, faith[797] effects -the cure desired--they return home with hope lessened but belief -unshaken, ready to obey again if another message be vouchsafed to them -from the dream-land of heaven. -Such dreams as these are regarded as spontaneous revelations of the -divine will, granted possibly in response to prayer, but in no way -controlled or procured by any previous action of the dreamer. But there -is one curious custom, observed by the girls of Greece, by which dreams -are deliberately induced as a means of foreknowing their matrimonial -destinies. On the eve of St Catharine’s day[798] most appropriately, -for she is the patroness of all marrying and giving in marriage, but -sometimes also on the first day of Lent[799], the girls knead and bake -cakes (ἀρμυροκούλουρα) of which, as their name implies, the chief -ingredient is salt. By consuming undue quantities of this concoction, -and often by assuaging the consequent thirst with an equally undue -quantity of wine, they produce a condition of body eminently suited -to cause a troubled sleep, and, their minds being already absorbed in -speculations on marriage, it is little wonder if their dreams reveal to -them their future husbands. How far this custom is now taken seriously, -I cannot determine; in some districts it has certainly degenerated into -a somewhat disreputable game. But the fact that the intoxication of the -girls is tolerated on this occasion among a peasantry whose men even -are seldom drunk except on certain religious occasions--on Easter-day -and after funerals--proves clearly that the custom was once, as I think -it sometimes is now, a genuinely religious rite and an acknowledged -means of divination. - -A modification of this custom, preferred in some districts as obviating -alike the unpleasant process of eating salt-cake and the disreputable -sequel thereto, substitutes for dreaming two other ancient methods of -divination--divination by drawing lots, a primitive system common to -many peoples but employed nevertheless even by established oracles[800] -in ancient Greece, and divination from chance words overheard by the -diviner, a method which is, I think, more exclusively Hellenic. For -this form of the custom also salt-cakes are required, but only a morsel -of each is eaten, and the remainder of the cake is divided into three -portions, to which are tied respectively red, black, and blue ribbands. -Each girl then places her three pieces under her pillow for the night, -and in the morning draws out one by chance. The red ribband denotes a -bachelor, the black a widower, and the blue a stranger, that is to say -some one other than a fellow-villager. Then, in order to supplement -with fuller detail the indications of the lot, the girl takes her stand -in the door-way of the cottage and listens to the casual conversation -of the neighbours or the passers-by; and the first name, trade, -occupation, and suchlike which she hears mentioned are taken to be -those of her future husband. - -Another similar custom, practised only by girls and not necessarily -taken more seriously than a game of forfeits, preserves in its modern -name ὁ κλήδονας[801] the old word κληδών, and the purpose of the -custom is to obtain that which Homer[802] actually denoted by κληδών, -a presage drawn from chance words. The preliminaries of the ceremony -are as follows. On the eve of the feast of St John the Baptist[803] a -boy (who for choice should be the first-born of parents still living) -is sent to fetch fresh water from the spring or well. This water is -known as ἀμίλητο νερό, ‘speechless water,’ because the boy who brings -it is forbidden to speak to anyone on his way. Each girl then drops -into the vessel of water some object such as a coin, a ring, or, most -frequently, an apple as her token. The vessel is then closed up and -left for the night on the roof of a house or some other open place -‘where the stars may see it.’ The proceedings of the next morning -vary. According to one traveller[804], each girl first takes out her -own apple--for he mentions only this token--and then draws off some of -the water into a smaller vessel. This vessel is then supported by two -other girls on the points of their four thumbs and begins to revolve -of its own accord. If it turn towards the right, the girl may expect -to marry as she wishes; if to the left, otherwise. Also, he says, they -wash their hands with this water and then go out into the road, and -take the first name they hear spoken as that of their future husband. -This latter part of the ceremony is true to the meaning of the word -κλήδονας and is a genuine instance of divination from chance words. -But neither this nor the former part as described by Magnoncourt is -generally practised now. The usual procedure is either for the boy who -fetched the water or for the girls in rotation to plunge the hand in -and draw out the first object touched, improvising or reciting at the -same time some couplet favourable or adverse to the love or matrimonial -prospects of her who shall be found to own the forthcoming object; and -so in turn, until each girl has received back her token and learnt the -presage of her fate. - -The recitation of possibly prepared distichs by those who are taking -part in the ceremony is certainly a less pure method of divination -than the earlier practice described by Magnoncourt. The prediction is -deliberately provided, and the element of chance or of divine guidance -is confined to the drawing of the token. The older method exhibits -more clearly the relation of the modern custom to the superstitious -observation of κληδόνες from the time of the _Odyssey_[805] onwards. -Thus when Odysseus heard the suitors threaten to take the beggar Irus -to Epirus, ‘even to the tyrant Echetus the destroyer of all men,’ he -hailed the chance words as a divine ratification of his hope that soon -the suitors should take their own journey to another destroyer of all -men, even the tyrant of the nether world, and ‘he rejoiced in the -presage’ (χαῖρεν δὲ κλεηδόνι)[806]. - -The same method of divination was frequently employed in the classical -age also, and that too not only privately[807] but even by public -oracles. It was thus that Hermes Agoraeus at Pherae made response to -his worshippers. The enquirer presented himself towards evening before -the statue of the god, burnt incense on the hearth, filled with oil and -lighted some bronze lamps that stood there, placed a certain bronze -coin of the local currency upon the altar, whispered his question into -the ear of the statue, and then at once holding his hands over his ears -made his way out of the agora. Once outside, he removed his hands, -and the first words which greeted his ears were accepted as the god’s -response to his question[808]. A primitive statue of Hermes with the -surname κλεηδόνιος existed also at Pitane[809], which place may be the -actual site of that ‘sanctuary of chance utterances’ (κληδόνων ἱερόν) -to which, according to Pausanias[810], the people of Smyrna resorted -for oracles. And at Thebes again Apollo Spodios gave his replies in -like manner[811]. - -Clearly then in antiquity divination from chance words was a -well-established religious institution; and at the present day, though -the practice is rarer, its character is unchanged. The religious nature -of the two customs which I have described is shown by their association -with the festivals of St Catharine and St John the Baptist; and though -in different localities or periods a certain amount of divination by -the lot or other means has been mixed up with divination from chance -words, the latter obviously forms the essence of both rites, supplying -as it does to the one its very name, and supplementing in the other -the meagre indications of the lot with more detailed information. A -girl may learn from the colour of the ribband attached to the piece -of salt-cake which she happens to draw whether her future husband is -bachelor, widower, or stranger; but only from the chance utterance -accepted as an answer to her own secret questionings can she learn the -name and home and occupation and appearance of her destined husband. - -The next branch of divination, the science of reading omens of success -or failure in the objects which a traveller meets on his road, is -still largely cultivated. In old days indeed it was so elaborate a -science that a treatise, as Suidas tells us, could be written on -this one method of divination alone. Possibly the same feat might be -accomplished at the present day if a complete collection were made of -all the superstitions on the subject of ‘meeting’ (ἀπάντημα) in all -the villages of Greece. How instructive the results might be, I cannot -forecast; but at any rate the task is beyond me, and I must content -myself with mentioning a few of the commonest examples. To meet a -priest is always unlucky, and for men even more so than for women, for, -unless they take due precautions as they pass him[812], their virility -is likely to be impaired; and the omen is even worse if the priest -happen to be riding a donkey, for even the name of that animal is not -mentioned by some of the peasants without an apology[813]. To meet a -witch also is unfortunate, and since any old woman may be a witch, it -is wise to make the sign of the cross before passing her. A cripple is -also ominous of failure in an enterprise. On the other hand to meet an -insane person is usually accounted a good omen, for insanity implies -close communion with the powers above. To meet a woman with child is -also fortunate, for it indicates that the journey undertaken will bear -fruit; and the peasant by way of acknowledgement never fails to bow or -to bare his head, and if he be exceptionally polite may wish the woman -a good confinement. Of animals those which most commonly forebode ill -are the hare, the rat, the stoat, the weasel, and any kind of snake. -In Aetolia superstition is so strong regarding these that the mere -sight of one of them, or indeed of the trail of a snake across the -path, is enough to deter many a peasant from his day’s work and to send -him back home to sit idly secure from morn till night; and even the -more stout-hearted will cross themselves or spit three times before -proceeding. - -That some of these beliefs date from classical times is certain. -Aristophanes, playing upon the use of ὄρνις, ‘a bird,’ in the sense -of ‘omen,’ rallies the Athenians upon calling ‘a meeting a bird, -a sound a bird, a servant a bird, and an ass a bird[814]’; and -there can be little doubt that the ass belonged then as now to the -category of objects ominous to encounter on the road; and the same -author[815], corroborated in this case by Theophrastus’ portrait of -the superstitious man[816], speaks to the dread inspired by a weasel -crossing a man’s path. The snake too, it can hardly be doubted, was, -owing perhaps to its association with tombs, an object of awe to the -superstitious out of doors as well as within the house[817]. On the -other hand an insane person apparently was in Theophrastus’ time not -as now an omen of good but of evil, to be averted by spitting on the -bosom[818]. But though the modern interpretations of such omens may not -be identical in every respect with the old, enough has been said to -show that the science of divining from the encounters of the road is -still flourishing. - -The observation of birds is in many cases closely allied with the -last method of divination; for naturally the peasant as he goes on -his way is as quick to notice the birds as any other object which -he encounters. But since auspices may also be taken under other -conditions, it will be well to observe the old line of demarcation, -and to treat this branch of augury, as it was treated in ancient -handbooks[819], separately. Moreover the attitude of the modern folk -towards these two branches of divination justifies the division. -The superstitions which I have just recorded are somewhat blindly -and unintelligently held; but in the taking of auspices proper the -ordinances of ancient lore which the people follow are felt by them -to be doubly sanctioned--by reason as well as by antiquity; they -apprehend the theory on which their practice is based--the idea that -birds are better suited than any other animate thing, by virtue both -of their rapid flight and of their keen and extended vision, to be the -messengers between gods and men. - -In practice this branch of divination is still concerned chiefly with -the large and predatory birds to which alone was originally applied the -term οἰωνός. ‘The largest, the strongest, the most intelligent, and at -the same time those whose solitary habits gave them more individual -character,’ says a French writer[820], ‘were deliberately preferred by -the diviners of antiquity as the subjects of their observation. For -these and these only was reserved at first the name οἰωνός, “solitary -bird[821],” or bird of presage’; and he goes on to suggest that the -Oriental belief in the magical power of blood to revivify the souls -of the dead and to stimulate prophecy influenced the selection for a -prophetic _rôle_ of carnivorous birds such as might indeed often feed -on the entrails of those very victims from which sacrificial omens were -taken. But the reasons assigned by Plutarch for the pre-eminence of -birds among all other things as the messengers of heaven apply with so -special a force to the special class of birds selected, that it seems -unnecessary to search out reasons more abstruse. - -‘Birds,’ he says[822], ‘by their quickness and intelligence and their -alertness in acting upon every thought, are a ready instrument for the -use of God, who can prompt their movements, their cries and songs, -their pauses or wind-like flights, thus bidding some men check, and -others pursue to the end, their course of action or ambitions. It is on -this account that Euripides calls birds in general “heralds of gods,” -while Socrates speaks of making himself “a fellow-servant with swans.”’ - -In this special class of ominous birds the principal group, says -the same French writer[823], was composed of the eagle (ἀετός), the -messenger[824] of Zeus, the ‘most perfect of birds[825]’; the vulture -(γύψ), which closely rivalled even the king of birds[826]; the raven -(κόραξ), the favourite and companion of Apollo, a bird so much observed -that there were specialists (κορακομάντεις) who studied no other -species; and the carrion-crow (κορώνη), transferred from the service -of Apollo to that of Hera[827] or Athene[828]. These, it may safely be -said, were observed at all periods. Of others, various species of hawk -(ἵεραξ, ἴρηξ)--in particular that known as κίρκος, acting in Homeric -times as the ‘swift messenger of Apollo[829]’ and thus rivalling the -raven--and with them the heron[830] (ἐρωδιός) enjoyed in early times -great respect, but gradually fell out of favour with the augur. But as -these disappeared from the canon of ornithological divination, certain -other birds were admitted, the wren[831] (τρόχιλος or βασιλίσκος), the -owl (γλαῦξ)[832], the κρέξ dubiously identified with our ‘rail’ (_crex -rallus_, Linn.), and the woodpecker (δρυοκολάπτης). - -The continuity of the art of taking auspices is at once obvious when -it is found that the birds which the modern peasant most frequently -observes are of the very same class which furnished the Homeric -gods with their special envoys. Eagles, vultures, hawks, ravens, -crows--these are still the chief messengers of heaven, and only one -other bird can claim equality with them, that bird which in classical -times symbolised wisdom, the owl. - -Of the methods pursued by the professional augurs in ancient Greece -unfortunately less is known. The best treatise on the subject is that -of Michael Psellus[833], written in the eleventh century; but probably -ancient works on the subject, such as that of Telegonus to which -Suidas[834] refers, were then extant and contributed the bulk of his -information. But even so it is the broad principles rather than the -detailed application of them which Psellus presents, and on them we -must in the main rely in comparing the modern science with the ancient. - -First of all the species of bird under observation had to be -ascertained; for the characters of different species were held to be -so various that birds as closely cognate as the raven and the crow -employed wholly contrary methods of communication with mankind. ‘If -as we go out of our house to work,’ says Psellus[835], ‘we hear the -cry of a raven behind or of a crow in front, it forebodes anxieties -and difficulties in our business, while if a crow fly past and caw -on the left or a raven do likewise on the other side, it gives hope -and confidence.’ The crow then was not subject even to the rule -concerning right and left which applied, so far as I know, to all -other birds, but, thanks to some innate contrariety, reversed the -normal significance of position, and therewith also of cry and of -flight[836]. Such exceptions even to the most general rules made the -accurate identification of species an indispensable preliminary to -successful augury. The same primary condition still holds. The diviner -must be able to distinguish the cawing of a crow settled on his roof -from that of a jackdaw; the former is an omen of death, as perhaps it -was in Hesiod’s day[837], to some member of his family, the latter -heralds the coming of a letter from a friend abroad. Again he must be -able to distinguish the brown owl (κουκουβάγια) from the tawny owl -(χαροποῦλι)[838]; the message of the former may be good or bad, as -we shall see, according to its actions, while the latter brings only -presages of woe. - -The species having been identified, there remained, according to -Psellus[839], four possible points in the behaviour of the bird itself -(all of them liable to be modified in significance by the position -of the observer) to be noticed and interpreted; these were its cry -(anciently φωνή or κλαγγή), its flight (πτῆσις), its posture when -settled (ἕδρα or καθέδρα), and any movement or action performed by it -while thus settled (ἐνέργεια). These divisions are still recognised in -modern augury. - -The cry is observed in the case of many birds. The scream of an eagle -is a warning of fighting or conflict to come. The croak of a raven, -especially if it be thrice repeated, while the bird is flying over a -house or a village, is a premonition of death to one of the inmates. -The laugh of the woodpecker, owing I suppose to its mocking sound, -is a sign that an intrigue against some one’s person or pocket is in -train. The repeated call of the cuckoo within the bounds of a village -forebodes an epidemic therein. - -Flight is chiefly observed in the case of the birds of prey. The -successful swoop of an eagle upon its prey, or the rapid determined -flight of a hawk in pursuit of some other bird, is an encouragement to -the observer (provided of course that the birds are seen on his right -hand) to pursue untiringly any enterprise in which he is engaged, and -is a promise of success and profit therein. In Scyros I once pointed -out to my guide a large hawk chasing a flock of pigeons, which he at -once hailed as a good omen and watched carefully as long as it was -in sight; and when I asked him what kind of hawk it was, he promptly -replied that that kind was known as τσίκρος--the goshawk, I believe. -This word is a modern form of the ancient κίρκος[840], and a closely -similar incident is mentioned in the _Odyssey_, when this bird, the -‘swift messenger of Apollo,’ is seen by Telemachus on the right, -tearing a pigeon in its talons and scattering its feathers to the -ground, and is taken to foreshow the fate that awaits Eurymachus[841]. - -The position occupied and the posture are observed above all in the -case of owls. The ‘brown owl’ (κουκουβάγια), perched upon the roof of -a house and suggesting by its inert posture that it is waiting in true -oriental fashion for an event expected within a few days, forebodes a -death in the household; but if it settle there for a few moments only, -alert and vigilant, and then fly off elsewhere, it betokens merely -the advent and sojourn there of some acquaintance. Another species -of owl, our ‘tawny owl’ I believe, known popularly as χαροποῦλι or -‘Charon’s bird[842],’ is, as the name suggests, a messenger of evil -under all circumstances, whether it be heard hooting or be seen sitting -in deathlike stillness or flitting past like a ghost in the gathering -darkness. - -The casual actions and movements of birds are less observed now than -the cry, flight, and posture; nor am I aware of any auspices being -drawn therefrom with regard to any matters of higher importance and -interest than the prospective state of the weather. For such humdrum -prognostication poultry[843] serve better than the more dignified -birds--perhaps because their movements on the ground are more easily -observed--and by pluming themselves, by scratching a hole in which to -dust themselves over, and by roosting on one leg or with their heads -turned in some particular direction foretell rain, fine weather, or a -change of wind. - -All these auspices are further modified, as in ancient times, by -the position of the observer in reference to the bird observed. The -right hand side is the region of good omen, whether the bird be seen -or heard; and if it be a case of the bird crossing the path of the -observer, passage from left to right is to be desired, on the principle -that all is well that ends well; flight from right to left indicates -a decline of good fortune. Motion towards the right, it may be noted, -has always been the auspicious direction in Greece. In that direction, -according to Homer, the herald carried round the lot which had been -shaken from the helmet, to be claimed by that Chieftain whose token -it might prove to be[844]; in that direction Odysseus in beggar-guise -proceeded round the board, asking alms of the suitors[845]; in that -direction even the gods passed their wine[846]. And in like manner -at the present day wine is passed, cards are played, and at weddings -bride and bridegroom are led round the altar, from left to right. Thus -then in modern augury too, if the eagle’s scream, which forebodes -fighting, be heard on the right, the hearer will come well out of it, -but if on the left, he is like to be worsted. If the woodpecker laugh -on the right, the hearer may proceed with full confidence to cheat -his neighbour, but if the sound come from the left, he must be wary -to baffle intrigues against himself. If the hawk pursue its prey on -the right or across a man’s path from left to right, he may take the -pursuer as the type of himself and go about the work in hand with -assurance of success; but if the omen be on the other side or in the -other direction, some enemy is the hawk and he himself is the pigeon to -be plucked. - -The interpretation of auspices is also affected by number. A single -or twice repeated cry of a bird may be of good omen, but, if the same -note be heard three times, the meaning may be reversed. This applies in -Cephallenia, as I was told, to the case already mentioned of a raven -flying over a house; one or two croaks are a presage of security or -plenty, but three are a warning of imminent death. In this detail a -pronounced change of feeling towards the number three is responsible -for what must, I think, be a contravention of the ancient rules in the -case. According to Michael Psellus, an even number of cries from the -crow were lucky and an odd number unlucky; but the crow, as we have -seen, was perverse and abnormal; reversing therefore the rule in the -case of other birds, we find that an odd number of croaks from a raven -should be lucky. But the number three, which in old times was lucky, is -now universally unlucky; the peasant often will apologize for having to -mention the number; and Tuesday, being called Τρίτη, the ‘third day’ of -the week, is the unlucky day. But if in this case the significance of -a particular number has changed, the principle of taking number into -consideration is indubitably ancient. - -Moreover there are some cases in which even the particular application -of the old principle holds good. The first, almost the only, literary -poet of modern Greece (as distinguished from the many composers of -unwritten ballads), who found beauty in the popular beliefs and music -in the vulgar tongue, makes his heroine thus divine her own death: - - Καὶ τὰ πουλάκι’ ἀποῦ ’ρθασιν συντροφιασμέν’ ὁμάδη - σημάδ’ εἶν’ πῶς ὀγλήγορα πανδρεύομαι ’στὸν Ἅιδη· - λογιάζω κι’ ὁ ’Ρωτόκριτος ἀπόθανε ’στὰ ξένα - κ’ ἦρθ’ ἡ ψυχή του νά μ’ εὑρῇ νὰ σμίξῃ μετ’ ἐμένα[847]. - - “And the little birds that have come consorting close together are a - sign that soon I am to be wed in Hades. I see that Erotocritus has - died in a strange land, and his soul has come to seek me, to mingle - with me.” - -Here neither the species of the birds nor their cry nor flight is -taken into account; the whole significance of the omen turns on the -close company which they kept. And for the method of interpreting it -we can go back to Aristotle. ‘Seers observe whether birds settle apart -or settle together; the former indicates enmity, the latter mutual -peace[848].’ - -Lastly, as regards practical augury from birds at the present day it -may be laid down as a rule that any extraordinary phenomenon, exciting -in the simple peasant’s mind more alarm than curiosity, passes for -a bad omen. The hen that so far forgets her sex as to crow like a -cock falls under suspicion and the knife at once. To the professional -diviner of old time probably such incidents were less distressing; he -could observe such striking anomalies in as calmly judicial a spirit -as the details of more ordinary occurrences. But at the present day, -though there are magicians in plenty, there are no specialists, to my -knowledge, in the science of auspices. The modern peasant does not -entice the birds with food to a special spot, as did Teiresias[849], -in order to listen to their talk and to gain from them deliberately -the knowledge of things that are and things that shall be. But amateur -though he be, lacking in power of minute observation and in science of -detailed interpretation, such rudiments of the art as he possesses are -an heritage from the old Hellenic masters of divination. - -So far then as the broad principles of practical auspice-taking are -concerned, the proofs of the identity of modern with ancient methods -are sufficiently complete; and it remains only to show that the -modern practice of this art is not a mere inert survival of customs -no longer understood but is in truth informed by the same intelligent -religious spirit as in antiquity. What that spirit was, is admirably -defined in that passage of Plutarch which I have already quoted, in -which he claims that the quickness of birds and their intelligence and -their alertness to act upon every thought qualify them, beyond all -other living things, for the part of messengers between gods and men. -Celsus too in his polemics against Christianity, made frank confession -of the old faith: ‘We believe in the prescience of all animals and -particularly of birds. Diviners are only interpreters of their -predictions. If then the birds ... impart to us by signs all that God -has revealed to them, it follows of necessity that they have a closer -intimacy than we with the divine, that they surpass us in knowledge -of it, and are dearer to God than we[850].’ Indeed it might seem that -there was hope of birds knowing that which a god sought in vain to -learn. To Demeter enquiring for her ravished child ‘no god nor mortal -man would tell the true tale, nor came there to her any bird of omen as -messenger of truth[851].’ In effect, the special aptitude of birds to -carry divine messages to men was never questioned in ancient Greece; -it was a very axiom of religion, without which the whole science of -auspices would have been a baseless fabrication. - -Now it would have been no matter of surprise for us, if practical -augury had still been in vogue at the present day and the theory had -been forgotten; if the customs born of a belief in the prophetic power -of birds had, with the inveteracy of all custom, outlived the parent -principle. Rather it is surprising that among all the perplexity -and bewilderment of thought caused by the long series of changes, -religious, political, and social, through which Greece has passed, -this recognition of birds as intermediaries between heaven and earth -has abated none of its force or its purity, neither vanquished by the -direct antagonism of Christianity, nor contaminated by the influx of -Slavonic or other foreign thought. Yet so it is; and the perusal of any -collection of modern folk-songs will show that the idea is fully as -familiar now as in the literature of old time. - -A few examples may be cited; and in selecting them I shall exclude -from consideration those many Klephtic ballads which open with a -conversation between three ‘birds[852]’; for the word ‘bird’ (πουλί) -seems to have become among the Klephts a colloquial equivalent for -‘spy’ or ‘scout,’ suggested perhaps by the qualities of intelligence, -alertness, and speed required, and it is admittedly[853] impossible -in many cases to determine whether the term has its literal or its -conventional meaning. Moreover these openings of ballads have passed -into a somewhat set form; and formulae are no more proof of the -continuance of belief than mummies of the continuance of life. - -But, even with the range of trustworthy evidence thus limited, the -residue of popular poetry contains ample store of passages in which -birds are recognised as the best messengers between this world and -another. And here, as we shall see, the reiteration of the idea is not -uniform in expression; the thought has not been crystallised into a -number of beautiful but inert phrases; it is still alive, still young, -still procreative of fresh poetry. - -There is a well-known folk-song, recorded in several versions, which -tells how a young bride, trusting in the might of her nine brothers and -in her husband’s valour, boasted that she had no fear of Charos. ‘A -bird, an evil bird, went unto Charos, and told him, and Charos shot an -arrow at her and the girl grew pale; a second and a third he shot and -stretched her on her death-bed[854].’ The special bird in the poet’s -mind was, one may surmise, ‘Charon’s bird,’ the tawny owl, which as -I have noted is always a messenger of evil. In another poem a bird -issues from the lower world and brings doleful tidings to women who -weep over their lost ones. ‘A little bird came forth from the world -below; his claws were red and his feathers black, reddened with blood -and blackened with the soil. Mothers run to see him, and sisters to -learn of him, and wives of good men to get true tidings. Mother brings -sugar, and sister scented wine, and wives of good men bear amaranth in -their hands. “Eat the sugar, bird, and drink of the scented wine, and -smell the amaranth, and confess to us the truth.” “Good women, that -which I saw, how should I tell it or confess it? I saw Charos riding -in the plains apace; he dragged the young men by the hair, the old -men by their hands, and ranged at his saddle-bow he bore the little -children[855].”’ - -Nor is it only between earth and the nether world that birds carry -tidings to and fro; earth and heaven are equally united by their -ministry. An historical ballad, belonging to the year 1825, when -Ibrahim Pasha had just occupied the fortress of Navarino and other -places in the Morea and was about to join in investing Mesolonghi, -gives to this idea unusually imaginative treatment; for the bird which -brings from heaven encouragement and prophecies of future success (one -of which was literally fulfilled in the battle of Navarino two years -later) is an incarnation of the soul of a fallen Greek warrior. ‘“Would -I were a bird” (I said), “that I might fly and go to Mesolonghi, and -see how goes the sword-play and the musketry, how fight the unconquered -falcons[856] of Roumelie.” And a bird of golden plumage warbled answer -to me: “Hold, good George; an thou thirstest for Arab[857] blood, here -too are infidels for thee to slay as many as thou wilt. Dost see far -away yonder the Turkish ships? Charos is standing over them, and they -shall be turned to ashes.” “Good bird, how didst thou learn this that -thou tellest me?” “A bird I seem to thee to be, but no bird am I. Yon -island that I espied for thee afar belongeth to Navarino; ’twas there -I spent my last breath a-fighting. Tsamados am I, and unto the world -have I come; from the heavens where I dwell I discern you clearly, -yet yearn to see you face to face.” “Nay, what shouldest thou see now -among us in our unhappy land? Knowest thou not what befell and now is -in the Morea?” “Good George, be not distraught, consent not to despair; -though the Morea fight not now, a time will come again when they will -fight like wild beasts and chase their foe. Piteously shall bones -lie scattered before Mesolonghi, and there shall the lions of Suli -rejoice.” And the bird flew away and went up to the heavens[858].’ - -Such an identification of the winged messenger with the soul of a -dead man does not represent the ordinary thought of the people; it is -a conceit peculiar to this ballad; but the very fact that the dead -warrior is made to assume the guise of a bird in order to communicate -with his living comrades shows how strong is the popular feeling that -birds are the natural intermediaries between earth and heaven. - -Thus then the ancient belief that birds are among the most apt -instruments of divine and human communion has survived as little -impaired by lapse of ages as the practical science of augury founded -upon it. Perhaps indeed it has even fared better; for practical augury -has, I suspect, suffered from the paucity or extinction of professional -augurs, who alone could be expected to remember and to transmit to -their successors all the complex details of their art, whereas the old -faith may even have gained thereby; for history, I suppose, is not -void of instances in which the professional exponents of a religion -have fostered its forms and have starved its spirit, forgetting their -ministry in their desire for mastery, and making their office the sole -gate of communion with heaven. But, be that as it may, such decline as -there may have been from the complete and elaborate system of auspices -which the ancients possessed is not at any rate due to any abatement of -the ancient belief in the mediation of birds. - -Not of course that the peasant, when he draws an omen from the eagle’s -stoop or the raven’s croak, pauses at all to reflect on the general -principle by which his act is guided; his recognition of the principle -is then as formal and unconscious as is his avowal of Christianity when -he crosses himself. But if ever in meditative mood he seeks the reason -and basis of his auspice-taking, he falls back, as the popular poetry -proves, on the doctrine that the powers above and below have chosen -birds as their messengers to mankind. - -Doubtless many other peoples have held or still hold kindred beliefs; -but the fact that in Modern Greece the same class of birds is -observed as in Ancient Greece and that the same broad principles of -interpretation are followed is sufficient warranty that the underlying -belief is also a genuinely Hellenic heritage. - -The next method of divination to be considered, that namely in which -omens were obtained from sacrifice, was anciently divided into two -branches; in one the diviner concerned himself with the dissection of -the victim, and based his predictions on the appearance of various -internal parts; in the other, special portions of the victim were -consumed by fire, and omens were read in the flame or smoke therefrom. -Of the latter I have discovered no trace in Modern Greece; but the -former still survives in some districts. - -Naturally however this mode of divination is less frequently practised -than that with which I have just dealt. The cry or the flight of birds -can be observed without let or hindrance in the course of daily work, -and, what is more important still, without cost; while this method -involves the slaying of a victim, and is consequently confined to -high days and holidays when the peasants eat meat. But when occasion -offers or even demands the performance of the rite, the presages drawn -therefrom are the more valued because they are less readily to be -obtained. - -And the value attached to them is by no means diminished because the -method pursued is less intelligent than the taking of auspices. In the -latter case, as we have seen, the common-folk have a reasonable basis -for their actions in the universal belief that birds are by nature -qualified to act as messengers between gods and men; in the former the -peasants are more blindly and mechanically repeating the practices of -their forefathers. They would be hard put to it to say how it comes to -pass that divine counsels should be found figured in the recesses of a -sheep’s anatomy. But in their very inability to answer this question, -no less than in their acceptance of the means of communion, they -resemble their ancestors; for, with all their love of enquiry, they too -practised the art without answering conclusively or unanimously the -questionings of their own hearts concerning it. One theory advanced -was that the anatomical construction of the victim was directly -affected by the prayers and religious rites to which it was subjected. -Another held the internal symptoms to be inexorable and immutable, -and saw divine agency only in the promptings of the sacrificer’s mind -and his choice of an animal whose entrails were suitably inscribed -by nature[859]. A third view, advocated by Plato, was that the liver -was as a mirror in which divine thought was reflected; during life -this divine thought might remain hidden as tacit intuition or be -manifested in prophetic utterance; after death the divine visions -contemplated by the soul were left recorded in imagery upon the liver, -and faded only by degrees[860]. The obvious objection to this theory -was its too practical corollary, that human entrails would be the most -interesting to consult. Less barbarous therefore in consequences, if -also less exquisite in idea, was the fourth doctrine, propounded by -Philostratus, that the liver had no power of presage unless it were -completely emancipated from the passions and surrendered wholly to -divine influence--a condition best fulfilled by animals of peaceful and -apathetic temperament[861]. - -But while these theories were built up and knocked down, the practices -which they were meant to explain continued firm and unshaken. The -fact seems to be that the custom of consulting entrails was not -native to Greece. In Homeric times the liver was not dissected in -search of omens, and such observations as were made were directed to -the brightness of the flame and the ascent of the smoke from burnt -offerings and not to any malformation or discoloration of the victim’s -inward parts. All that could be learnt was whether the sacrifice, and -therefore also the prayers accompanying it, were accepted or rejected. -The complexities of post-Homeric divination from burnt sacrifice -and the whole system of inspecting the entrails seem to have been a -foreign importation. Whether the source was Etruscan, Carian, Cyprian, -Babylonian, or Egyptian, does not here concern us[862]; the practices -were in origin foreign to Greece, and the ancients, in referring the -invention of them to Delphus, son of Poseidon, to Prometheus, to -Sisyphus, or to Orpheus[863], were guilty not only of sheer fabrication -but of manifest anachronism[864]. Homer convicts them. - -It is then the foreign origin of these methods of divination which -explains the attitude of the ancient Greeks towards them. It was a -practice, not a theory--a custom, not an idea--a conglomeration of -usages, not a coherent and reasoned system--which was introduced -from abroad. The Greeks accepted it readily as furnishing them with -one more means to that communion with their gods which to them was -a spiritual necessity. The principle of the machinery employed was -unknown to them; but what matter? Its operation was commended by -the experience of others and soon tested by their own. The unknown -principle long continued to excite interest, conjecture, speculation, -among the educated and enlightened, but their failures to reach any -final and unanimous conclusion never moved them to dispute the tested -fact. And if this was the attitude of the educated, the common-folk of -those days must surely have been in the same position as the people -of to-day--gladly accepting the usage and avowedly ignorant of the -principle. Such blind acquiescence during so many centuries may seem -indeed a disparagement of the Greeks’ intelligence; but it is equally -a testimonial to their religious faith; it is the things which defy -reasoning that are best worth believing; and among these the Greeks -have steadfastly numbered the writing of divine counsels on the -sacrificial victim’s inward parts. - -The actual methods now pursued are also an inheritance from the ancient -world. The animal from which the Klephts a century ago are said to -have taken omens most successfully was the sheep, and the portion of -its anatomy on which the tokens of the future were to be read was the -shoulder-blade. The questions to which an answer was most often sought -were, as might be surmised from the life of the enquirers, questions -of war. ‘In this connexion,’ says a Greek writer[865] of the first -half of last century, when stories of the Klephts’ life might still -be heard from their own lips, ‘the shoulder-blade of a young lamb -is ... a veritable Sibylline book; for its condition enables men to -ascertain beforehand the issue of an important engagement, the serious -losses on each side, the strength of the enemy, the reinforcements -to be expected, and indeed the very moment when danger threatens’; -and he recounts, by way of illustration, the story of a Thessalian -band of Klephts, whose captain, in the security of his own fastness, -was sitting divining in this way; suddenly he sprang up with the -exclamation, ‘The Turks have caught us alive,’ and at the head of his -troop had only just time to break through the Turkish forces which were -already surrounding them. - -That this method of divination was derived directly and with -little deviation from the old system of inspecting shoulder-blades -(ὠμοπλατοσκοπία) as known to Michael Psellus can hardly be doubted. ‘If -the question be of war,’ he says, ‘a patch of red observed on the right -side of the shoulder-blade, or a long dark line on the left, foreshows -a great war; but if both sides present their normal white appearance, -it is an omen of peace to come[866].’ - -But the days of patriot-outlaws are over now, and the questions -submitted to the arbitrament of ovine shoulder-blades are of more -peaceful bent. It is the shepherd now, and not the warrior, who thus -resolves the uncertainties of the future. It is the vicissitudes of -weather, not of war, that interest him; the birth of lambs, not the -death of Turks. It is of plague, pestilence, and famine threatening his -flock, not of battle and murder and sudden death for himself, that he -seeks forewarning. But the same instrument of divination supplies the -answers. - -My own knowledge of its use is obtained entirely from Acarnania -and Aetolia; but the practice is also recorded from Zagorion in -Epirus[867], and prevails too, I have been told, among the shepherds -of Elis. The opportunity for it is, as I have said, offered only -by certain feast-days, when the peasants indulge in meat. On other -occasions, when the shepherds kill only in order to sell in the -towns, divination cannot be undertaken; for it is only after cooking -that the meat can be properly removed from the bone so as to leave -it clean and legible. There is therefore no doubt an economical -reason for confining this practice to certain religious festivals; -but this consideration must not be allowed to obscure the genuinely -religious character of the rite itself. In Zagorion, at the festivals -in honour of the patron-saint of each village or monastery, sheep are -brought and slain in the enclosure of the particular sanctuary, and -are called κουρμπάνι̯α[868], a plural evidently of the Hebrew word -‘corban,’ a thing devoted to the service of God; thus both name and -ceremony proclaim this custom a genuine survival of sacrifice; and it -is apparently from the shoulder-blades of these victims that omens -are drawn[869]. A similar case of divination by sacrifice came to my -knowledge in Boeotia, though whether the shoulder-blade or some other -part of the victim furnished the predictions, I could not ascertain. -While looking round a small museum at Skimitári I had happened to stop -before a relief representing a man leading some animal to sacrifice, -and heard the custodian, a peasant of the place, remark to another -peasant, evidently a stranger to the district, who had followed me in, -‘That is just like what we do’; and he then explained that at a church -of St George, somewhere in the neighbourhood, there was an annual -festival at which a similar scene took place. The villagers of the -country-side congregate early on the morning of St George’s day round -the church, each man bringing a kid or a lamb; service in the church -having been duly performed, the priest comes out and blesses each of -the animals in turn, after which they are killed and roasted and a -feast is held accompanied by some kind of divination from the victims. -Such in brief was the custodian’s account; but, when I intervened in -the conversation with a question about the method of divining, he -would say nothing more. The Boeotians are still boorish. But what I -had already overheard exhibits clearly enough the religious character -of the rite; and I do not doubt that in Aetolia and Acarnania also the -peasants handle the sheep’s shoulder-blade in an equally religious -mood. Their very indulgence in meat is due to the religious occasion; -much more therefore the divination which reveals to them the mind of -those powers whom they worship. - -In the art of interpreting the particular marks upon the shoulder-blade -I cannot claim to be an adept. The few facts which I managed to -discover were that in general spots and blurs upon the bone are -prognostications adverse to the hopes of the enquirer, and that -a clean white surface always gives full security: that different -portions of the bone are scrutinised for answers to different classes -of questions; thus the prospects of the lambing season are indicated -on the projecting ridge of the bone, and the weather-forecast on the -flat surfaces on either side of it, marks on the right side (the bone -being held horizontally with what is naturally its upper end towards -the diviner) being favourable signs, and those on the left ill-omened: -and finally that a pestilence is foreshown by a depression in the -surface of the bone. The science, I was told, is extremely complex and -elaborate; but I never had the fortune to meet any peasant who was -considered an expert in it; the best exponents of it are to be found -among the mountain shepherds, and since these are constantly shifting -their grazing grounds it is no easy matter to fall in with one both -able and willing to unfold the full mysteries of the art. How to -distinguish in interpretation markings of different sizes, shapes, and -colours I never discovered[870]. - -But the little which I learnt agrees in the main with the ancient -method as described by Michael Psellus[871]. ‘Those,’ he says, ‘who -wish to avail themselves of this means of divination, pick out a sheep -or lamb from the flock, and, after settling in their mind or saying -aloud the question which they wish to ask, slay the victim and remove -the shoulder-blade from the carcase. This--the organ of divination as -they think--they bake thoroughly upon hot embers, and having stripped -it of the flesh find on it the tokens of that issue about which they -are enquiring. The answers to different kinds of questions are learnt -from different parts[872]. Questions of life or death are decided by -the projection of the ridge[873]; if this is clean and white on both -sides, a promise of life is thereby given; but if it is blurred, it -is a token of death. Weather-forecasts again are made from inspection -of the middle part of the shoulder-blade; if the two membrane-like -surfaces which form the middle of the shoulder-blade on either side -of the ridge[874] are white and clean, they indicate calm weather -to come; while, if they are thickly spotted, the reverse is to be -expected.’ Here, it will have been noticed, no mention is made of -any discrimination between the markings on the right and on the left -sides of the bone; but this, I suspect, is an omission on the part of -Psellus, for so simple a principle of ancient divination is hardly -likely to have been excluded from consideration in this case. In other -respects the information which I obtained tallies closely with his -account; the clean and white appearance of the bone was then, as it -is now, a reassuring omen; then, as now, the prospects of the weather -were to be learnt from the flat surface on either side of the ridge; -then, as now, the question of life or death, which from the shepherd’s -point of view becomes most acute at each lambing season, was settled -by reference to the ridge of the bone. To judge then from the few -principles of the art known to me, divination from the shoulder-blade, -besides being still recognised as a religious rite, is conducted on -the same lines by Aetolian and Acarnanian peasants as it was by those -ancient augurs to whose hand-books probably Psellus was indebted for -his knowledge. - -Another animal utilised in the same district for purposes of -divination is the pig; but in this case the prophetic organ is not -the shoulder-blade but the spleen. This is removed from the fresh -carcase before the rest of the flesh is cut up or cooked in any -way, and omens are taken from the roughness or discoloration of its -surface. The questions which may be decided by this means are very -various--the prospects of weather, of crops, and of vineyards, the -success of journeys and other enterprises, the advisability of a -contemplated marriage, and so forth. Of the exact details of the art I -know even less than in the last case; the facts which I learned were -these, that a smooth surface is a good omen, just as it was in the -case of other internal organs in the time of Aeschylus[875], while -certain roughnesses portend obstacles and difficulties in a journey -or enterprise, and further that certain abnormal blotches of colour -give warning of blight and mildew on crops and vines. Proficiency in -the science, I was told, is commonest among the inhabitants of the -low-lying cultivated or wooded districts of Acarnania where large -herds of half-wild swine are kept; and hence it is natural that the -predictions sought in this way are chiefly concerned with agricultural -and social interests, whereas the omens obtained from the sheep’s -shoulder-blade by shepherds living solitary lives in the mountains -deal with few issues other than the prospects of the flock. But this -difference between the two methods of divination is circumstantial -rather than essential; either method can, I believe, in the hands of -experts be used for answering almost any questions. - -Divination from the pig’s spleen is, I think, undoubtedly ancient. It -appears to be a solitary survival of the σπλαγχνοσκοπία, or ‘inspection -of entrails,’ which in ancient Greece would seem to have been the -commonest method of divining from the sacrificial victim. Among the -animals embarrassed with prophetic entrails the pig indeed was not -ordinarily reckoned; but Pausanias mentions that the people of Cyprus -discovered its value[876], and it seems actually to have furnished -responses to the highly reputable oracle of Paphos[877]. How it has -come to pass that modern Acarnania should preserve a custom peculiar -to ancient Cyprus, is a problem that I cannot solve; but it can hardly -be questioned that here again we have an old religious rite still -maintained as a proven means of communion with those powers in whose -knowledge lies the future. - -Divination from sacrifice also forms part of the preliminaries of a -wedding in many districts. On the day before the actual ceremony[878] -the first animal for the feast is killed by the bridegroom with his -own hand. The proper victim is a young ram, though in case of poverty -a more humble substitute is permitted. This, after being in some -districts blessed by the priest who receives in return a portion of the -victim, is made to stand facing eastward, and the bridegroom endeavours -to slaughter it with a single blow of an axe. Omens for the marriage -are taken from the manner and the direction in which the blood spirts -out; and a further investigation is sometimes made as to whether the -tongue is bitten or the mouth foaming, each sign finding its own -interpretation in the lore of the village cronies[879]. The substitute -allowed for the ram is a cock. Where the peasants avail themselves of -this economy, the killing is usually deferred until after the wedding -service, and is performed on the doorstep of the bridegroom’s house -before the bride is led in. The bird is held down on the threshold by -the best man, and the bridegroom, having been provided with a sharp -axe, tries to sever the cock’s neck at one blow. Here too the man’s -dexterity counts for something; for the peace or the agony in which the -victim is despatched belongs to that class of omens which in antiquity -also were drawn from the demeanour of the animal before and during -the act of sacrifice, and were taken not indeed to furnish a detailed -answer to any question preferred but to indicate the acceptance or the -rejection of the offering and the accompanying petitions. It is however -the effusion of blood and the muscular convulsions of the decapitated -bird which are most keenly observed; for from these signs, I was -told, the old women of the village profess to determine such points of -interest as the chastity of the bride, the supremacy of the husband or -the wife in the future _ménage_, and the number and sex of children -to be born. All this information can in most places where the rite -prevails be obtained without any dissection of the victim such as would -have been customary in antiquity; but in Aetolia and Acarnania the -peasants continue faithful to what are probably ancient methods even -in this detail; there the breast-bone of the fowl is treated both at -weddings and on other religious occasions as a poor man’s legitimate -substitute for the ovine shoulder-blade, which it sufficiently -resembles in the possession of a ridge with flat surfaces on either -side suitable for divine inscriptions. - -But it is not upon coincidences of practical detail, instructive as -they are in proving the unity of modern with ancient Greece, that I -wish most to insist. If it is clear that the victims often blest by the -priests at weddings and on other religious occasions are really felt by -the people to be sacrifices, then the practice of divining from them, -whatever the exact method pursued, is once more distinct evidence of -the belief that the powers above are able and willing to hold close -communion with men. - -Among the minor methods of divination we may notice first what Suidas -calls οἰκοσκοπικόν or ‘domestic divination’; under this head he -includes such incidents as the appearance of a weasel on the roof, or -of a snake, the spilling of oil, honey, wine, water, or ashes, and the -crackling of logs on the fire. The subject was expounded apparently in -a serious treatise by one Xenocrates; but it is difficult to suppose -that there was any scientific system governing so heterogeneous a -conglomeration of incidents; the treatise was probably no more than a -compilation of possible occurrences with disconnected regulations for -interpreting each of them. - -Many events of a like trivial nature are observed at the present day, -and the interpretations set upon some of them are demonstrably ancient. -A weasel seen about the house, just as on the road, is significant of -evil[880], more especially if there is in the household a girl about to -be married; for the weasel (νυφίτσα) was once, it is said, a maiden -destined to become, as the name implies, a ‘little bride,’ but in some -way she was robbed of her happiness and transformed into an animal; -its appearance therefore augurs ill for an intended wedding. A snake -on the contrary is of good omen when seen in the house; for it is the -guardian-_genius_ watching over its own. The orientation of a cat -when engaged in washing its face indicates the point of the compass -from which wind may be expected. A mouse nibbling a hole in a bag of -flour is in Zagorion[881] as distressing a portent as it was to the -superstitious man of Theophrastus[882]. A dog howling at night in or -near the house portends a death in the neighbourhood, as it did in -the time of Theocritus: ‘Hark,’ cries Simaetha, ‘the dogs are barking -through the town. Hecate is at the cross-ways. Haste, clash the brazen -cymbals[883]’; only instead of the cymbals it is customary to use an -ejaculation addressed to the dog, ‘may you burst’ (νὰ σκάσῃς), or ‘may -you eat your own head’ (νὰ φᾶς τὸ κεφάλι σου). - -Again, to take another class of the domestic incidents mentioned by -Suidas, the spilling of oil is universally an evil omen, and the -spilling of wine a good omen; the former foreshadows poverty, the -latter plenty. The upsetting of water is also a presage of good -success, especially on a journey; but in this connexion, as a later -chapter will show, it often passes out of the sphere of divination, -which should rest on purely fortuitous occurrences, into that of -sympathetic magic. - -The crackling of logs on the fire, which Suidas mentions, remains -to-day also an incident to be duly noted. Generally it appears to mean -that good news is coming or that a friend is arriving, but, if sparks -and ashes are thrown out into the room, troubles and anxieties must be -expected. The spluttering of a lamp or candle also usually foretells -misfortune[884]. Omens as to marriage also may be obtained on the -domestic hearth. Two leaves of basil are put together upon a live coal; -if they lie as they are placed and burn away quietly, the marriage will -be harmonious; if there is a certain amount of crackling, the married -life of the two persons represented by the leaves will be disturbed -by quarrels; if the leaves crackle fiercely and leap apart, there is -an incompatibility of temper which renders the projected alliance -undesirable. - -These are but a few instances of domestic divination, and a much -longer list might easily be compiled. But while I know that many of -the peasants do indeed observe such occurrences seriously enough to -act upon the supernatural warnings thereby conveyed, yet the religious -character of these methods of divination is less demonstrable than that -of divination from birds or from sacrifice; and I may content myself -with indicating, by a few illustrations only, the continuity of Greek -superstition in both this and those other minor branches of divination -to which I now pass. - -Palmistry, according to Suidas, was an ancient art, and a hand-book of -it was composed by one Helenos. The signs of the future were read in -the lines of the palm and of the fingers as in modern palmistry. This -science is still kept up by some of the old women in Greece, but real -proficiency therein is as in other countries chiefly attained by the -gypsies (ἀτσίγγανοι), who follow a nomadic life in the mountains and -have very little intercourse with the native population. - -Divination from involuntary movements of various parts of the -body--παλμικόν, as Suidas calls it, on which one Poseidonios was a -leading authority--is still very generally practised, and evidently has -deviated hardly at all from ancient lines. The twitching of a man’s -eye or eyebrow is a sign that he will soon see some acquaintance--an -enemy, if it be the left eye that throbs, a friend, if it be the right; -and this clearly was the principle which the goat-herd of Theocritus -followed when he exclaimed, ‘My eye throbs, my right eye; oh! shall -I see Amaryllis herself?’[885] Similarly the buzzing or singing of -a man’s ears is an indication that he is being spoken of by others, -just as it was in the time of Lucian[886]; and, according to the usual -principle, the right ear is affected in this manner by praise and -kindly speech, the left by backbiting and slander. Again, if the palm -of the right hand itch, it shows that a man will receive money; and -reversely, if the left palm itch, he will have to pay money away[887]. -So too, if the sole of the right or of the left foot itch, it is a -premonition of a journey successful or unsuccessful. Omens of this kind -fall with uncomfortable frequency to the lot of those who have to find -a night’s lodging in Greek inns or cottages. - -To the same category belong hiccoughing and sneezing. The hiccough -(λόξυγγας), as also in Macedonia choking over food or drink[888], is -a sign that some backbiter is at work, and the method of curing it is -to guess his name. Sneezing is a favourable omen, but the particular -interpretation of it depends on alternative sets of circumstances. If -anyone who is speaking is interrupted by a sneeze, whether his own -or that of another person present, whatever he is saying is held to -be proved true by the occurrence. ’Γειά σου, cry the listeners, καὶ -ἀλήθεια λές (or λέει), ‘Health to you, and you speak (_or_ he speaks) -truth.’ If however no one present is in the act of speaking when the -sneeze is heard, the first phrase only is used, ‘Health to you,’ -or by way of facetious variant, νὰ ψοφήσῃ ἡ πεθερά σου, ‘May your -mother-in-law die like a dog[889].’ In either case the prayer for good -health can benefit only the sneezer; but in the former, that member of -the company who is speaking at the time may obtain corroboration of -the statement which he is making from the omen produced by another. -This part of the belief is very strongly held; and anyone who is in the -unfortunate position of having his word doubted or of being compelled -to prevaricate will be better advised to conjure up a sneeze than to -expostulate or to swear. - -Both these interpretations of sneezing date from ancient times. The -old equivalent of ‘Health to you’ was Ζεῦ σῶσον, ‘Preserve him, Zeus’; -but such expressions are common to many nations and not distinctively -Hellenic. The other interpretation of sneezing, as a confirmation of -words which are being uttered, is of more special interest, and has -been handed down from the Homeric age. ‘Let but Odysseus come,’ says -Penelope, ‘and reach his native land, and soon will he and his son -requite the violent deeds of these men.’ ‘Thus she spake,’ continues -the passage, ‘and Telemachos sneezed aloud; and round about the house -rang fearfully; and Penelope laughed, and quickly then she spake winged -words to Eumaeus: “Go now, call the stranger here before me. Dost thou -not see how my son did sneeze in sanction of all my words[890]? For -this should utter death come upon the suitors one and all, nor should -one of them escape death and destruction[891].”’ - -Among other instruments of divination occasionally used are eggs, -molten lead, and sieves. Eggs are chiefly used to decide the prospects -of a marriage. ‘Speechless water’[892] is fetched by a boy, and the -old woman who presides over such operations pours into it the white -of an egg. If this keeps together in a close mass, the marriage will -turn out well; but if it assumes a broken or confused shape, troubles -loom ahead. In antiquity the science was probably more extended; for a -work on egg-divining (ὠοσκοπικά) was attributed to Orpheus. A similar -rite may be performed with molten lead instead of white of egg, and -it suffices to pour it upon any flat surface[893]. Divination with a -sieve--the ancient κοσκινομαντεία--also continues, I have been told, -but I know no details of the practice. - -Thus then the chief methods of learning the gods’ will as practised -in antiquity have been reviewed, and are found to be perpetuated in -substantially the same form down to the present day; and not only is -the form the same but in many of them the same religious spirit is -manifest. The principal difference lies in the paucity of professional -diviners now; experts assuredly in some branches there still are, but -augury alone would now, I think, be a precarious source of livelihood. -Advice from the village priest would in so many cases be cheaper and no -less valued than that of the soothsayer. - -And as with persons so with places. The pagan temples in which oracles -were given have been largely superseded by Christian churches, and -possibly the peasants are more inclined to pay for masses which will -secure the fulfilment of their wishes than for oracular responses which -may run counter to them. Still even so oracles have not yet entirely -ceased; and in discussing those which survive we shall find once more -a coincidence both in form and spirit between ancient and modern Greek -religion. - -An oracle, it must be remembered, is simply a place set apart for -the practice of divination; the method of obtaining responses has -always varied in different places, and the mediation of a professional -diviner, though usual, cannot be regarded as essential[894]. Those -caves therefore where women make offerings of honey-cakes to the -Fates[895] and pray for the fulfilment of their conjugal hopes are -really oracles, provided that there is some means of learning there -whether the prayer is accepted or rejected. And this is often the -case; most commonly the answer is inferred--on what principle of -interpretation, I do not know--from the dripping of water or the -detachment and fall from the roof of a particle of stone; and in -Aetolia I was told of a cave in the neighbourhood of Agrinion in which -the nature of the response is determined by the behaviour of the bats -which frequent it. If they remain hanging quiescent from the roof and -walls, the suppliant’s hopes will be realised; but if they be disturbed -by his or, more often, her intrusion and flutter round confusedly, the -Fates are inexorably adverse. - -But besides these modest and unpretentious oracles there still survives -in the island of Amorgos an oracle of a higher order ensconced in a -church and served by a priest. The saint under whose patronage this -pagan institution has continued to flourish is St George, here surnamed -Balsamites[896]. To the right on entering the church is seen a large -squared block of marble hollowed out so as to have the form of an urn -inside, and highly polished. It stands apparently on the natural rock, -and is roofed over with a dome-shaped lid capable of being locked. At -the present day the mouth of the urn is also covered by a marble slab -with a hole pierced through it and fitted with a plug; but this was not -observed by travellers of the seventeenth century and is probably a -recent addition. There is also a discrepancy in the various accounts -of the working of the oracle, the older authorities stating that the -answers were given by the rise and fall of the water in the vessel, -while the modern custom is to interpret the signs given by particles -of dust, insects, hairs, bits of dry leaf, and suchlike floating in a -cupful of water drawn from the urn[897]. - -The description given by a Jesuit priest of Santorini, Robert Sauger -by name, of what he himself witnessed in Amorgos towards the end of -the seventeenth century may be taken as trustworthy, inasmuch as he -elsewhere shows himself an accurate observer and certainly was not -tempted in the present case to exaggerate the wonders of the rival -Church. - -‘The cavity,’ he says, ‘fills itself with water and empties itself of -its own accord, and it is impossible to imagine what gives the water -this motion and where it has a passage; for, besides being very thick, -the marble is so highly polished inside and its continuity of surface -is so unbroken that it is impossible to detect the tiniest hole or the -least unevenness, saving always the opening at the top which is always -kept locked. Additionally astonishing is the fact that within the space -of one hour the urn fills and empties itself visibly several times; at -one moment you see it so full that the water overflows, and a moment -afterwards it becomes so dry that it appears to have had no water in it -at all. - -‘Superstition is rife everywhere. Any Greeks who have a voyage to make -do not fail to come and consult the Urn. If the water is high in it, -they set off gaily, promising themselves a good passage. But if the Urn -is without water, or the water is low in it, they draw therefrom a bad -omen for the success of their journey, and do not go, or, if business -makes it imperative, go unwillingly. - -‘This alleged miracle, which is so famed throughout all Greece, is -a source of much gain to the priest who has charge of the Church of -St George; for the concourse of Greeks there is incessant; people -come thither from great distances, some in all seriousness to advise -themselves of the future, others to see the thing with their own eyes, -and a certain number to amuse themselves and to have a laugh, as I -have had several times, at the credulity of these folk[898].’ - -Whatever may have been the original method of oracular response--and -I suspect that, while the presence or the absence of water furnished -a plain ‘yea’ or ‘nay’ to the enquirer, a more detailed reply always -depended upon the observation and interpretation of any foreign -particles floating in the urn--the faith of the people in its virtue is -still intense. It can indeed no longer claim a reputation throughout -all Greece; but the inhabitants of Amorgos and the maritime population -of neighbouring islands still consult it regularly and seriously -concerning voyages, business matters, marriage, and other cares and -interests; nor are questioners from farther afield altogether unknown. - -This oracular property of water was well known in antiquity. In this -branch of divination, says Bouché Leclercq, use was made ‘of springs -and streams which were felt to be endowed with a kind of supernatural -discernment. Certain waters were accorded the property of confirming -oaths and exposing perjury. The water of the Styx, by which the -Olympian gods swore, is the prototype of these means of test, among -which may be mentioned the spring of Zeus Orkios, near Tyane, and the -water-oracle of the Sicilian Palici[899].’ So too water-deities such as -Nereus and Proteus were believed to exercise special prophetic powers; -and Ino possessed in the neighbourhood of Epidaurus Limera a pool into -which barley-cakes were thrown by those who would consult her; if these -offerings sank, she was held to have accepted them and to favour the -enquirer; if they floated, his hopes would be disappointed[900]. - -The present oracle of Amorgos is of a higher order than this; its -method is more complex, and its responses are more detailed. It should -surely have ranked high even among the oracles of old, of which, both -in the reverence which it inspires and in the medium which it employs, -it is a true descendant. - - * * * * * - -Having thus examined the means by which the gods deign to communicate -with men, and having seen that both in form and in spirit the ancient -means of communion have been preserved almost unchanged, we have now to -consider the means by which men approach the gods and communicate to -them their hopes and petitions. - -The first and most obvious method, one common to all religions, is -of course prayer; but the use of this channel just because it is so -universal cannot be claimed as a proof of religious unity between -ancient and modern Greece. It is rather in what we should deem the -accompaniments of prayer that evidence of such unity must be sought. -The ancient Greeks were not in general content with prayer only. It was -not customary to approach the gods empty-handed. The poor man indeed, -according to Lucian[901], appeased the god merely by kissing his right -hand; but the farmer brought an ox from the plough, the shepherd a -lamb, the goat-herd a goat, and others incense or a cake. ‘Thus it -looks,’ he says, ‘as if the gods do nothing at all _gratis_, but offer -their commodities for sale to men; one may buy of them health, for -instance, at the cost of a calf, wealth for four oxen, a kingdom for -a hecatomb, a safe return passage from Ilium to Pylos for nine bulls, -and the crossing from Aulis to Ilium for a princess--a high price -certainly, but then Hecuba was bidding Athene twelve cows and a dress -to keep Ilium safe. One must suppose however that they have plenty -of things to dispose of at the price of a cock, a garland, or even a -stick of incense[902].’ That this is a fair account of the externals -of Greek ritual can hardly be questioned; for Plato too, in more -serious mood, says that ‘the mutual communion between gods and men’ is -established by ‘sacrifices of all kinds and the various departments of -divination[903].’ The ‘various departments of divination’ are clearly -the means by which the gods communicate with men; and ‘sacrifices of -all kinds’ therefore represented to Plato’s mind the means by which -men communicate with their gods. Prayer, he seems to have felt, was a -necessary incident in sacrifice, rather than sacrifice an unnecessary -adjunct to prayer. - -Now the word θυσία, which we commonly translate ‘sacrifice,’ was a term -of very wide meaning in ancient Greek. In Homer the word θύειν was -used of making any offering to the gods, and never denoted, though -naturally it sometimes connoted, the slaughtering of animals--an -act properly expressed by the verb σφάζειν. And in later times the -substantive θυσία was still applied to almost any religious festival, -at which undoubtedly some offerings, but not necessarily animal -sacrifices, were always made. When therefore Plato speaks of θυσίαι -πᾶσαι, ‘all sacrifices,’ he is clearly expressing his recognition -of the fact that sacrifices (θυσίαι) are manifold in kind--and if -in kind, therefore also in intention; for different rituals are the -expressions of different religious motives. Communion with the gods was -in general terms the object of all offerings made to them by men; but -the particular aspect of such communion varied. - -Offerings, we may suppose, were rarely if ever made purely for the -benefit of the gods without any self-seeking on the part of the -worshipper. Even when a sacrifice to some god was merely a pretext for -social entertainments--and how frequently this was the case is shown -by the fact that φιλοθύτης, ‘fond of sacrificing,’ came to mean simply -‘hospitable’--it is reasonable to suppose that the presentation to the -god of the less edible portions of the victim was accompanied at least -by an ἵλαθι, ‘be propitious,’ by way of grace before the meal; and -at more strictly religious functions, at which the guests, if there -were any, were secondary to the god, the dedication of the offering -undoubtedly included a declaration of the offerer’s motive. - -As regards the character of that motive in most cases, Lucian is right; -it was frankly and baldly commercial. Homer does not blink the fact; -for Phoenix even commends to the notice of Achilles the open mind -displayed by the gods towards an open-handed suppliant. ‘Verily even -the gods may be turned, they whose excellence and honour and strength -are greater than thine; yet even them do men, when they pray, turn from -their purpose with offerings of incense and pleasant vows, with fat -and the savour of sacrifice, whensoever a man hath transgressed and -done amiss[904].’ And so Greek feeling has ever remained. Offerings -are the ordinary means of gaining access to the gods, of buying their -goodwill and buying off their anger. The ordinary medium of exchange -in such commerce was, when Greece was avowedly pagan, food, and is, -now that Greece is nominally Christian, candles: for religion, ever -conservative, keeps up the otherwise obsolete system of barter between -men and gods, even though the priests of those gods are enlightened -enough to accept of a secular modern currency. But the particular -commodities in which the barter is made are of little consequence as -compared with the spirit which has always animated such dealings. The -substitution of candles for meat is practically the only modification -which Christianity has effected in this department of religion. - -Even this change in detail does not affect the whole range of such -operations; candles are not by any means the only offerings of -which the Church takes cognisance. In dealing with the question of -divination, we have seen cases in which on some religious occasion, -saint’s-day or wedding, the priest blesses a genuinely sacrificial -victim[905]. We have seen too that at the laying of foundation stones, -a religious ceremony conducted by a priest of the Church, some animal -is immolated to appease the _genius_ of the site[906]. We have seen -again how the Church permits or encourages the dedication of those -silver-foil models of various objects--ships and houses, corn-fields -and vineyards, eyes and limbs--which serve at once to propitiate the -saint to whom they are offered and, on the principle of sympathetic -magic, to place the object, thus represented as it were by proxy, -under the saint’s special care; and how also the same kind of models -are frequently dedicated as thank-offerings[907]; so that indeed, -in default of an inscription announcing the motive of the offerer, -no one can decide how any given offerings of this kind should be -classified[908]. - -Then too in those religious rites which have survived without -ecclesiastical sanction the use and the purpose of food-offerings -remain unchanged. The favour of the Fates is bought by offerings of -cakes in order that they may bestow upon the women who thus propitiate -them the blessing of children[909]. Nereids who have ‘seized’ children -are known to withdraw their oft-times baneful influence when the mother -takes a present of food to the scene of the calamity and cries to them -with an Homeric simplicity, ‘Eat ye the little cakes, good queens, and -heal my child[910].’ Even the malice of Callicantzari may sometimes be -averted by a present of pork[911]. - -Thus with or without the ratification of the Church the old offerings -still continue to be made in the self-same form; and even where other -substitutes have been devised, the spirit which animates the dedication -of them is unchanged--a spirit essentially commercial; it matters -little whether the suppliant is trying to buy blessings or to get the -punishment which he has deserved commuted for a fine, or again whether -he is speculating in future favours or settling in accordance with a -vow for favours received; in each case there is the _quid pro quo_, the -bargaining that the Greek has never been able to forego, not even in -his religion. - -But while the spirit thus manifested is not wholly admirable and -perhaps deserved the ridicule of Lucian, it is highly instructive. The -sacrifices or offerings are the means by which the worshipper gets into -touch with the worshipped, the vehicle for his thanks or petitions; the -possibility of bargaining implies intercourse; commerce is a form, even -though it be the lowest form, of communion. - -But that there were other kinds of sacrifice which represented higher -aspects of the communion between men and gods in ancient Greece is -certain. The commonly accepted classification of ancient sacrifices -recognises three main groups--the sacramental, the honorific, and -the piacular. Of the sacramental class, in which--by a development, -it appears, of totemism--some sacred animal, representing the -anthropomorphic god who has superseded it in men’s worship, is consumed -by the worshippers in order that by eating the flesh and drinking the -blood they may partake of the god’s own life and self, no trace, so -far as I know, can now be found in the popular religion. The honorific -class comprises the majority of those offerings which might with less -euphemism be called commercial; those however which are prompted by the -desire to expiate sin, or rather to buy off the punishment which sin -has merited, would, I suppose, fall under the head of piacular. But the -line drawn between the honorific and the piacular seems to me far from -clear, for reasons which will be discussed in the remainder of this -chapter. - -The view of sacrifice which I am about to propound, and which would -modify chiefly our conception of so-called piacular sacrifice in -antiquity, was suggested to me by a story which I had from the lips of -an aged peasant of the village of Goniá (the ‘Corner’) in the island of -Santorini[912]. In talking to me of the wonders of his native island -he mentioned among other things a large hall with columns round it -which had long since been buried--presumably by volcanic eruption. -This hall was of magnificent proportions, ‘as fine,’ to use the old -man’s own description, ‘as the _piazza_ of Syra or even of Athens.’ It -was situated between Kamári, an old rock-cut shelter in the shape of -an _exedra_ at the foot of the northern descent from the one mountain -of the island (μέσο βουνί), and a chapel of St George in the strip -of plain that forms the island’s east coast. So far my informant’s -veracity is beyond dispute; for in an account of the island written -by a resident Jesuit in the middle of the seventeenth century I -afterwards discovered the following corroboration[913]. ‘At the foot -of this mountain[914] are seen the ruins of a fine ancient town; the -huge massive stones of which the walls were built are a marvel to -behold; it must have taken some stout arms and portentous hands to -handle them.... Among these ruins have been found some fine marble -columns perfectly complete, and some rich tombs; and among others -there are four which would bear comparison in point of beauty with -those of our kings, if they were not damaged; several marble statues -in Roman style lie overturned upon the ground. On the pedestal of the -statue of Trajan there is still to be read at the present day a very -fine Greek panegyric of that powerful Emperor, as also on that of the -statue of Marcus Antoninus.’ Thus much as guarantee of the old man’s -_bona fides_, which even excavation on the spot, however desirable -from an archaeological standpoint, could not more clearly establish -than the French writer’s corroborative testimony; now for the story -associated by the aged narrator with this wonderful buried hall. -At the time of the revolution, he said, a number of the Greek ships -assembled off Kamári (where a fair anchorage exists), and he with -some fellow-islanders all since dead was going to fight in the cause -of Greek freedom. Naturally enough there was great excitement and -trepidation in this remote and quiet island at the thought of adventure -and war. ‘So we thought things over,’ he continued, ‘and decided to -send a man to St Nicolas to ask him that our ships might prosper in the -war[915].’ They accordingly seized a man and took him to this large -hall. There they cut off his head and his hands, and carried him down -the steps into the hall, whereupon God appeared with a bright torch in -his hand, and the bearers of the body dropped it, and all present fled -in terror. - -There are few grounds on which to argue for or against the credibility -of this story. Historically Thera along with some other islands is -recorded to have maintained the position of a neutral by paying -contributions to both sides; but that does not in any way militate -against the supposition that a few young men from the island were -patriotic enough to volunteer for service in some of the Greek ships -which may have touched--perhaps to secure that contribution--at -Santorini. The story itself was narrated to me, I am persuaded, in all -good faith, and the old man really believed himself to have taken part -in the events described. His age would certainly have permitted him to -fight as a young man in the revolution; he himself estimated (in the -year 1899) that he had lived more than a century, and other old men of -the village who were well past their threescore years and ten reckoned -him senior to themselves by a full generation; moreover his own -reminiscences of the war argued a personal share in the fighting. But -whether the savage episode which he described was really a prelude to -that most savage war, or some traditional event of the island’s history -post-dated and inserted in the most glorious epoch of modern Greek -history, is a question which cannot be finally determined. Chronology -to a peasant who does not know the year of his own birth is naturally -a matter of some indifference, and excitability of imagination -coupled with the habit, or rather the instinct, of self-glorification -in the Greek character, would account for an unconscious and not -intentionally dishonest transference of the stirring events of -earlier days to a date at which their narrator could have personally -participated in them; there is no one so easily deceived by a Greek as -himself, and no one half so honestly. Yet on the whole I incline to -believe the story. - -Fortunately the chronological exactitude and detailed precision of the -story do not much matter. Accurate or inaccurate in itself it contains -a clear expression of the view held by the old peasant of the purpose -of human sacrifice. ‘We thought things over and decided to send a man -to St Nicolas to ask him that our ships might prosper in the war.’ -This is our text, and its very terseness and directness of expression -prove how familiar and native to the speaker’s mind was this aspect -of sacrifice. The human victim was simply and solely a messenger. St -Nicolas, to whom he was sent, has supplanted Poseidon, as has been -remarked above[916], in the government of the sea and the patronage -of sailors; but how he came to be associated with the hall which was -deemed a right place for the sacrifice, unless perhaps he had succeeded -to the possession of the site of some temple of Poseidon, I cannot say. -It is of little avail to press for further elucidation of a peasant’s -story. I would gladly have learnt more about the hall now wholly buried -but then partially at least visible above ground, into which none -the less a descent by steps is mentioned; I would gladly have learnt -more about the appearance of God with a bright torch in his hand, and -what was the significance to the peasant’s mind of the appearance of -God himself[917] (ὁ θεός) instead of St Nicolas to whom the messenger -was sent. These uncertainties and obscurities must remain. The only -additional fact which I elicited was that the man taken and sent to St -Nicolas was in Greek parlance a ‘Christian,’ that is to say neither a -Turk nor a member of the Roman Church which has long held a footing -in the island. There was therefore no admixture of either racial or -religious hatred in the feelings which prompted, as it is alleged, this -human sacrifice. - -If then the story be accepted, the motive assigned must be accepted -with it; but if the story be discredited, the motive assigned has -still a value. For even if the old man had deliberately invented the -tale and claimed complicity in so ghastly a deed, whence could he have -obtained that conception of human sacrifice which furnished the motive -of the action? It is inconceivable that he should have evolved the idea -from personal meditations on the subject of sacrifice. It is equally -inconceivable that he could have obtained it from any literary source; -for he could not read, and the only book of which he could have had any -knowledge would have been the Bible, to which this view of sacrifice is -unknown. The only source from which he could have received the idea is -native and oral tradition. - -So distinct an expression of the idea is naturally rare, because human -sacrifice is not an every-day topic of conversation among peasantry; -but such a theory of sacrifice is perfectly harmonious with that chord -of Greek religion of which several notes have already been struck. To -obey dreams, to enquire of oracles, to observe birds, to hear omens -in chance words, to read divine messages in the flesh of sacrificial -victims, to make presents to the powers above for the purpose of -securing blessings or averting wrath--these are the ways of a people -from whose mind the primitive belief in close contact and converse -with their gods has not been expelled by the invasion of education; -whose religion has not paid the price of ennobling its conceptions -and elevating its ideals by making the worshipper feel too acutely -his debasement and his distance from the godhead; whose instinctive -judgement divides the domain of faith from the domain of reason, and -accepts poetical beauty rather than logical probability as the evidence -of things unseen. True indeed it is that of all the practices by which -this people’s belief in intercourse with their gods is attested none is -so remarkable as acquiescence or complicity in murder prompted solely -by the belief that the victim by passing the gates of death can carry -a message in person to one in whose power the future lies. But all -that is painful and gruesome in such a deed only accentuates the more -the unflinching faith of a people who, not in blind devotion to custom -nor in fear of a prophet’s command, but intelligently and of piety -prepense, could sacrifice a compatriot and co-religionist to ensure the -safe carriage of their most urgent prayers. - -If tragedy consists in the conflict of deep emotions, and religion in -obeying the divine rather than the human, few deeds have been more -tragic, none more religious than this. In that scene at Aulis when the -warrior-king gave up his child at the prophet’s bidding to stay the -wrath of Artemis against his host, the tragedy was indeed intensified -by the strength of the human tie between the sacrificer and the -victim; but blind and awe-struck submission to a prophet’s decree is -less grandly religious than clear-sighted recognition and courageous -application of the belief that the dead pass immediately into the -very presence of the gods. Here are the two given conditions: first, -the urgency of the present or the peril of the future requires that a -request for help be safely conveyed at all costs to that god or saint -in whose province the control of the danger lies; secondly, the safest -way of sending a message to that god or saint is by the mouth of a -human messenger whose road is over the pass of death. There is only -one solution of that problem. And if it is true that only some eighty -years ago the problem was solved at so cruel a cost, then the faith of -this people in their communion with those on whose knees the future -lies is more intense, more vital, more courageous than that of more -Western nations whose religion has long been subordinated or at least -allied to morality, and whose acts of worship are all well-regulated -and eminently decorous. - -Human sacrifice is known to have been practised in ancient Greece and -the custom probably continued well into the Christian era. What was -the motive which prompted the continuance of so cruel a rite? Was it -the same as that which the old peasant of Santorini assigned for the -performance of a like act in his own experience--that conception of -the victim as a messenger with which he can have been familiar only -from native and oral tradition? Assuredly some strong religious motive -must have compelled the ancients to a rite which in the absence of such -motive would have been an indelible stigma upon their civilisation, -refuting all their claims to emancipation of thought and freedom -of intellect, and branding them the very bond-slaves of grossest -superstition. Even though they lived on the marches of the East where -human life is of small account, the horror of the rite is in too vivid -a contrast with Hellenic enlightenment for us to see in it a mere -callous retention of an unmeaning and savage custom; but that horror -is at least mitigated if underlying the practice there was some deep -religious motive, if a genuine faith in the possibility of direct -intercourse with heaven exalted above the sacredness of human life the -sacred privilege of sending a messenger to present the whole people’s -petition before their god. - -But while it is easy to perceive that such a motive is in harmony -with that belief in the possibility of the communion of man with -God which is so pronounced a feature in the religion of the ancient -Greeks no less than in that of their descendants, it is a far harder -task actually, to prove that this motive was the one acknowledged -justification for human sacrifice. Ancient literature is extremely -reticent on the whole subject; the very fact of the existence of the -rite is known chiefly from late writers, Plutarch[918], Porphyry[919], -and Tzetzes[920]; and anything like a discussion of the motives -which underlay it is nowhere to be found. This reticence however was -prompted, we may suppose, simply and solely by the patent barbarity -of the act; it in no way impugns the latent beauty of the motive. -Rather the persistence in a rite which did violence to men’s humaner -feelings and moral sense proves the strength of the appeal which the -motive for it must have addressed to their religious convictions. There -was no place for shame in the belief that death was the road by which -alone a human messenger could gain immediate access to the gods; but -if a messenger were required to go at regular intervals, the regular -occurrence of deaths required murder. This, I think, was the cause of -shame and reticence. - -Now if this very simple analysis of the feelings which almost barred -the discussion or even mention of human sacrifice by ancient authors is -correct, we should expect to find that, where death occurred naturally -and not by human intervention, the conception of the dying or the dead -as messengers to the unseen world would find ready and unembarrassed -expression. And especially is this to be expected among the Greeks with -whom grief has never imposed a check upon garrulity, but rather the -loudness of the lamentation has always been the test of the poignancy -of the sorrow. It is therefore in funeral-dirges and such-like that we -must look for the expression of this idea. - -An organised ceremony of lamentation is at the present day an -essential part of every Greek funeral, and many dirges sung on such -occasions have been collected and published. In these the conception -of the departed as a messenger, or even as a carrier of goods, -abounds[921]. A Laconian dirge runs thus: ‘A prudent lady, a virtuous -wife, willed and resolved to go down to Hades. “Whoso has words” (she -cried) “let him say them, and messages, let him send them; whoso has -a son there unarmed, let him send his arms; whoso has son there a -scribe, let him send his papers; whoso has daughter undowered, let him -send her dowry; whoso has a little child, let him send his swaddling -clothes.”’[922] - -The same thought inspires a dirge in Passow’s collection[923], in which -the thoughts of a dead man, round whose body the women are sitting -and weeping, are thus expressed: ‘Why stand ye round about me, all ye -sorrowing women? Have I come forth from Hades, forth from the world -below? Nay, now am I making ready, now am I at the point to go. Whoso -hath word, let him speak it, and message, let him tell it; whoso hath -long complaint, let him write and send it.’ And again in another -funeral-song a dead man is described as a ‘trusty courier bound for the -world below[924].’ - -This sentiment, so frequently and so clearly expressed in the modern -dirges, is of ancient descent. Polyxena, about to be sacrificed -at Achilles’ tomb, is made by Euripides to address to her mother -the question, ‘What am I to say from thee to Hector or to thy aged -husband?’, and Hecuba answers, ‘My message is that I am of all women -most miserable[925].’ And it is the same genuinely Hellenic thought -which Vergil attributes to Neoptolemus when he answers Priam’s taunts -of degeneracy with the words, ‘These tidings then thou shalt carry, -and shalt go as messenger to my sire, the son of Peleus; forget not to -tell him of my sorry deeds and that Neoptolemus is no true son. Now -die[926].’ - -And it is not only in the poetry of ancient and modern Greece but -also in the actual customs of the people that this idea has found -expression. At the present day funerals are constantly treated by the -peasants as real opportunities of communicating with their dead friends -and relatives. Whether the custom is ever carried out exactly as it -once was by the Galatae, who used to write letters to the departed and -to lay them on the pyre of each new courier to the lower world[927], -I cannot definitely say; but a proverbial expression used of a person -dangerously ill, μαζεύει γράμματα γιὰ τοὺς πεθαμμένους, ‘he is -collecting letters for the dead,’ lends colour to the supposition that -either now or in earlier days this form of the custom is or has been -in vogue. But in general now certainly the messages are not written -but verbal. It is a common custom, noticed by many writers on Greek -folklore[928], for the women who assist in the ceremonial lamentation -which precedes the interment to insert in the dirges, which they each -in turn contribute, messages which they require the newly-dead to -deliver to some departed person whom they name, or, according to a -slightly different usage, to whisper such messages secretly in the -ear of the dead either immediately before the body is borne away to -the church[929], or, where women are allowed to attend the actual -interment, at the moment of ‘the last kiss’ (ὁ τελευταῖος ἀσπασμός), -which forms an essential and very painful part of the Eastern rite. - -The antiquity of this custom appears to me to be as certain as -anything which is not explicitly stated in ancient literature can be. -For in every detail of ancient funeral usage known to us there is -so complete a coincidence with modern usage that it would be absurd -not to supplement records of the past by observation of the present. -Actually to establish that identity in every particular is beyond the -scope of the present chapter and must be reserved until later; but -my assertion may be justified here by reference to three points in -Solon’s legislation on the subject of funerals. That legislation was -directed against three practices to which mourners were addicted in -this ceremonial lamentation of which I have been speaking--laceration -of the cheeks and breast, the use of set and premeditated dirges, -and lamentation for any other than him whose funeral was in -progress[930]--customs which all still flourish. - -The laceration is quite a common feature of such occasions. Indeed in -some districts the women nearest of kin to the deceased are almost -thought to fail in their duty to him if they do not work themselves -up into an hysterical mood and testify to the wildness of their grief -by tearing out their hair and scratching their cheeks till the blood -flows. Such a display of agony, it must be remembered, comes easy to -the Greeks: for their temperament is such that, even when the fact -of the bereavement has moved them little, the _rôle_ of the bereaved -excites them to the most dramatic excesses. Men rarely if ever now take -part in this scene, and are certainly not guilty of such transports; -for their usual method of mourning is to let their hair grow instead of -tearing it out, and to avoid laceration by forswearing the razor. - -Again, the use of set dirges, composed or adapted beforehand to suit -the estate and circumstances of the deceased, is almost universal; and -so essential to the funeral-rite is the formal lamentation that there -are actually women whose profession it is to intone dirges and who are -hired for the occasion. These professional mourners (μυρολογήτριαις -or μυρολογίστριαις) take their seats round the corpse in order of -seniority and assist the wife, mother, sisters, cousins, and aunts, who -also take their seats according to degree of kinship (the head of the -bier being of course the place of honour), to keep up an incessant flow -of lamentation. The scene differs in no detail, save that the hired -mourners now are always women, from that which was enacted round the -body of Hector. There too ‘they set singers to lead the lamentation,’ -and of the women present it was Andromache, the wife, who began the -wailing, Hecuba, the mother, who followed next, and Helen whose voice -was heard third and last[931]. The singers who led the lamentation -were probably then as now hired, for Plato speaks of paid minstrels -at funerals using a particular style of music known as Carian[932]--a -custom suggestive of antiquity; and in all probability the singing of -set dirges, which Solon tried to suppress, was the recognised business -of professional and paid mourners; for dirges premeditated by the -relatives would have been less objectionable, one may suppose, than -their hysterical improvisations. What success his legislation obtained -in Athens cannot now be ascertained; but the custom was undoubtedly -universal in Greece, and with the exception of the Ionian islands, -where the Venetians imitated Solon in sternly repressing what they -regarded as a scandal and a grave offence against public decency[933], -all parts of Greece still to some extent retain it; and it is likely -long to survive for the simple reason that lamentation has always -been held by the Greeks to be as essential to the repose of the dead -as burial. There is more than hazard in the repeated collocation of -ἄκλαυτος, ἄταφος, ‘unwept, unburied,’ in the tragedians[934]; there is -the religious idea that the dead need a twofold rite, both mourning and -interment. - -The third point in the funeral customs to which Solon demurred was that -mourners attending the ceremony of lamentation misused the occasion by -wailing again for their own dead and neglecting him whose death had -brought them together. This practice was known to the Homeric age; for -while Briseïs ‘tore with her hands her breast and smooth neck and fair -face’ and with shrill wailing and tears made lament over Patroclus, -‘the women joined their groans to hers, for Patroclus in form, but each -really for their own losses[935].’ There is no intention of satire -here; it is simply a naïve touch in the picture of a familiar and -pathetic scene. Patroclus’ death furnished the excuse and the occasion -for tears, but most of those tears--pent up till they might flow freely -and without shame--were shed for nearer sorrows, dearer losses. To-day -the manner is the same. In some districts, as in Chios[936], a woman’s -desire to lament again over her own dead is recognised as so legitimate -that etiquette merely prescribes that she first must make mention of -the present dead and afterwards she is free to mourn for whom she will; -and indeed throughout Greece the opportunity for rehearsing former -sorrows is rarely neglected. - -Now when in these details that have been enumerated (as well as in -many others such as the washing, arraying, and crowning of the dead -body, the antiquity of which will be treated in another chapter[937]) -that portion of ancient usage which is known from literary sources is -found surviving, point for point identical, as a portion of modern -usage, then the defect of ancient literary sources is best and most -reasonably supplemented from present observations. Thus we know from -the _Iliad_ that the women of the Homeric age used Patroclus’ funeral -as an occasion for renewing their wailing over their own losses; we -know too from Plutarch that in Solon’s age the same practice had -attained such excessive proportions that legislation intervened to -check it; the only detail which we are not told is whether the mourners -in commemorating thus their own dead friends were wont to entrust -messages for them to him about whose bier they were assembled. But -when the ancient picture of funeral-usage corresponds thus in every -distinguishable trait with the living scenes of to-day, clearly the -right way of restoring that which is obscured or obliterated in the -picture is to go and to see still enacted in all its traditional -fulness that very scene which the remnants of ancient literature -imperfectly pourtray. And by going and seeing we learn this--that one -strongly marked characteristic of funeral-rites is the belief, both -expressed in words and evidenced in acts, that he whose death has -brought the mourners together is a messenger who can and will carry -tidings to those who have preceded him to the world below. Then on -looking back we may feel confident that that aspect of death, which -prompted Polyxena to ask what message she should bear from Hecuba to -Hector and to Priam, was no mere poetic conceit imagined by Euripides, -but a common feature of the popular religion. The belief that the -passing spirit is a sure and unerring messenger to another world has -ever been the property of the Hellenic people. - -Since then this belief existed in ancient times and the practice of -human sacrifice also existed, it remains to enquire whether the two -were correlated as cause and effect, as in my story from Santorini. -In this enquiry the reticence of ancient literature on the subject -precludes, as I have pointed out, actual certainty; but a passage from -Herodotus offers a clue which is worth following up. -In speaking of the Getae, a Thracian people, he remarks that they -believe in their own immortality. ‘They hold that they themselves do -not die, but the departed go to dwell with a god named Zalmoxis.... -And every four years they choose one of their own number by lot and -despatch him as messenger to Zalmoxis, enjoining upon him the delivery -of their various requests. The manner of sending him is this. Some of -them are set to hold up three spears, while others take their emissary -by his arms and by his legs and swinging him up into the air let him -fall upon the spear-points. If he be pierced by them mortally, they -consider that their god is favourable to them; but if death do not -result, they lay the blame on the messenger himself and give him a bad -name; but having censured him they despatch another man instead. Their -injunctions are given to the messenger before he is killed[938].’ - -Now no one can fail to notice that Herodotus’ own interest in this -custom centres not in the idea which prompted it but in the manner -of carrying it out. His account of it reads as if he knew his Greek -readers to be familiar enough with the conception of human sacrifice -as a means of sending a messenger to some god; but he seems to be -contrasting the method adopted with some rite of which they were -cognisant. Tacit comparisons of foreign customs with those of Greece -occur all through Herodotus’ work. The points which he here seems -to emphasize are, first, that the messenger of the Getae was one -of themselves, not a prisoner of war or a slave; secondly, that -impaling was the ritual mode of death--a mode which the Greeks held -in abhorrence and would never have employed; and, thirdly, that the -messages were committed to the victim’s charge before and not after -death. The inference therefore is that Herodotus and the Greeks for -whom he was writing were accustomed to some rite which was inspired by -the same motive but was differently executed, the messenger being other -than a citizen, the method of sacrifice less barbarous to their minds -than impaling, and the messages being whispered, as at funerals, in the -dead victim’s ear; for of course, if the newly-dead could carry tidings -to men in the other world, they could equally well carry petitions to -gods. -Moreover my contention that Herodotus had in mind some Greek rite, -with which he was contrasting that of the Getae, is borne out by the -passage immediately following, in which the idea of comparison comes to -the surface. This Zalmoxis, he continues, according to the Greeks of -the Hellespont and the Euxine, was in origin not a god but a man. He -served for a time as a slave to Pythagoras in Samos, but having gained -his liberty and considerable wealth returned to Thrace and tried to -reclaim his countrymen from savagery and ignorance. The ways of life -and the doctrines which he inculcated were such as he had derived from -intercourse with Greeks and above all with Pythagoras, whose teachings -concerning immortality and a future life in a happier land he both -preached and (by the trick of hiding himself for three years in a -subterranean chamber and then re-appearing to those who had believed -him dead) illustrated in his own person. This story is neither accepted -nor rejected by Herodotus, but, estimating Zalmoxis to have been of -much earlier date than Pythagoras, he inclines slightly to the view -that Zalmoxis was really a native god of the Getae. - -If we may assume this view to be correct, what significance is to be -attached to the story of Zalmoxis’ relations with Pythagoras? Evidently -it is one of those fictions by which the ancient Greeks loved to bring -the great figures of history into contact and personal acquaintance. -Pythagoras and Zalmoxis were two names with which was associated the -doctrine of immortality; some story therefore of their meeting was -desirable. And since Pythagoras was Greek, Zalmoxis barbarian, the -legend that the slave Zalmoxis was instructed by his master Pythagoras -was more flattering to Hellenic pride than the idea that Pythagoras in -his travels should have borrowed so important a doctrine from a foreign -religion; and if chronology did not concur--well, imagination always -had precedence of accuracy. To the Greeks who invented the tale fitness -was of more account than fact; and for us who dismiss the actual story -as mere fiction their sense of its fitness remains instructive. It -shows that the Greeks recognised the existence of specially close -relations between the religion of the Getae and their own--relations -attested probably not only by their common acceptance of the doctrine -of immortality, for that was the property of other peoples too, but -also by some resemblance between the rites of the Getae which were -based upon that doctrine and similar rites practised, as Herodotus -hints, by themselves. - -Then again if the motive which we have found operating in Herodotus’ -time among the Getae and operating also less than a century ago among -the peasants of Santorini was not the motive which prompted the -ancient Greeks to human sacrifice, how can we account for the long -perpetuation of the practice? It is practically certain that it was -tolerated in Athens during the period of her ascendency and highest -enlightenment[939]; but the repugnance which it inspired is proved -by the reticence which almost concealed the fact from posterity. It -was practised apparently in honour of Lycaean Zeus in the time of -Pausanias[940]; but the horror of it closed his lips concerning this -‘secret sacrifice.’ Suppose then that the motive for this sacrifice -had been the sating of a wolf-like god--for so Pausanias seems to have -understood the epithet Λυκαῖος[941]--with human flesh; could such -a rite have continued in any part of Greece for some six centuries -after it had become repugnant at least in Athens? Was the supposed -motive so sublime that it was held to hallow or even to mitigate the -barbarity of the act? Or did the custom live on without motive when an -anthropomorphic Zeus had superseded the old wolf-like deity? Custom, -it is true, often outlives its parent belief; but custom itself is -not invulnerable nor deathless if it has to battle against sentiments -irreconcilably opposed to that original belief. If the purpose of -propitiating a wolf-god with human flesh was rendered null and void by -the modifications which the conception of Lycaean Zeus had undergone, -how could the crude and savage rite have still flourished in the -uncongenial soil of an humaner civilisation--unless of course some -new stream of religious thought, instead of the original motive, had -watered and revived it? The very fact that so hideous a custom was so -long maintained in civilised Greece argues that, whatever the original -motive of it may have been, only some strong religious belief in the -necessity of it could have saved it from extinction in the historical -age. Surely it was some convincing plea of justification, and not mere -acquiescence in the inveteracy of custom, which caused Pausanias, -though he could not bring himself to describe or to discuss the horrid -sacrifice, yet to conclude his brief allusion to it with the words, ‘as -it was in the beginning and is now, so let it be[942].’ - -My reasons then for suggesting that one motive which led to human -sacrifice in ancient Greece was the belief that the victim could carry -a petition in person to the gods are threefold. First, that motive -was recognised as sufficient by a peasant of Santorini, who can only -have inherited the idea, just as all the ideas of divination have -been inherited, from the ancient world. Secondly, Herodotus appears -to contrast the method of such sacrifice among the Getae with the -method of some similar rite familiar to his audience and to imply that -the motive in each case was the same. Thirdly, without an adequate -motive--and it is hard to see what other motive could have been -adequate in the case which I have taken--it is almost inconceivable -that human sacrifice should have continued, in spite of the repugnance -which it certainly excited, for so long a time. For these reasons I -submit that the known belief of the ancients that the dead could serve -as messengers to the other world and their known custom of making human -sacrifice were correlated in the minds of thinking men in the more -civilised ages as cause and effect. - -The reservation, ‘in the minds of thinking men in the more civilised -ages,’ is necessary; for I am at a loss how to determine whether -the belief in question was the original motive of the custom or a -later justification of the custom when its original motive had been -forgotten. Either the belief was coeval with the custom, and both were -inherited together from ancestors belonging to that ‘lower barbaric -stage’ of culture in which ‘men do not stop short at the persuasion -that death releases the soul to a free and active existence, but they -quite logically proceed to assist nature by slaying men in order -to liberate their souls for ghostly uses[943]’; or on the other -hand the custom of human sacrifice originated in some other motive -(such as satisfying the appetite of a beast-like god) and remaining -itself unchanged, while the conception of the god was gradually -humanised until his beast-form and therewith the original purpose of -the sacrifice were lost to memory, embarrassed a more enlightened -and humaner age until a new justification for it was found in the -messenger-functions of the dead. - -In support of the former supposition it may be mentioned that tribes -far more barbarous than the Getae (who may have benefited from Greek -civilisation) have evolved the particular ghostly use of dead men’s -souls which we are considering. In Dahome, according to Captain Burton, -not only are a large number of wives, eunuchs, singers, drummers, and -soldiers slaughtered at the king’s funeral, that they may wait on him -in another world, but ‘whatever action, however trivial, is performed -by the (new) king, it must dutifully be reported to his sire in the -shadowy realm. A victim, almost always a war-captive, is chosen; the -message is delivered to him, an intoxicating draught of rum follows it, -and he is dispatched to Hades in the best of humours[944].’ There is -therefore no objection to the supposition that the Hellenic people too -from the days of prehistoric savagery were constantly actuated by this -motive. - -On the other hand it is equally admissible to think that some cruder -motive first led the population of Greece to adopt the custom of human -sacrifice, and that it was only comparatively late in their history, -in an age when men’s humaner instincts were offended by the atrocity -of the rite and religious speculation on the subject of the soul’s -immortality was rife, that the old custom was invested with a new -meaning. Herodotus clearly recognised the connexion between the rite -of the Getae and the doctrine of immortality which was bound up with -the names of Zalmoxis and Pythagoras; and it is possible that in Greece -too the later justification of human sacrifice was founded on the same -doctrine. It would have been an irony of fate truly if a doctrine not -indeed founded, I think, but largely expounded by Pythagoras, who -forbade his followers to kill even animals for the purposes of food, -should have been so construed as to furnish a plea for the immolation -of men; but it is quite clear that a belief in the activity of the soul -after death, superimposed upon the desire for close communion between -men and gods, might have had that issue. - -But, as I have said, I see no means of deciding at what date the -correlation of the conception of the dead as messengers and the custom -of human sacrifice as cause and effect first entered men’s minds; but -that in the historical age that correlation was acknowledged seems to -me highly probable. Such a view would certainly have militated against -the substitution of animal for human victims; for only a man would have -been felt to be capable of understanding the message and of delivering -it to the god to whom he was sent. This perhaps is the reason why the -use of a surrogate animal--though early introduced, as one version of -the story of Iphigenia proves--never met with universal acceptance, and -why also at the present day there remains a vague but real feeling that -for the proper laying of foundations a human victim is preferable to -beast or bird[945]. - -To single out particular instances of ancient sacrifice in which -this motive may have operated is, owing to the general absence of -data concerning the ritual, well-nigh impossible. The sacrifice to -Lycaean Zeus was performed upon an altar before which, according to -Pausanias[946], there stood two columns and upon them two gilded -eagles; and we may surmise that as the eagles represented to his mind -the messengers sent by Zeus to men, so did the human victim represent -the messenger of men to Zeus. But this can be only a conjecture, for -Pausanias’ silence admits of no more. - -Of the ceremony connected with the _pharmakos_, or human scape-goat, -at Athens and elsewhere somewhat more is known. Certain persons -ungainly in appearance and debased in character were maintained at the -public expense, in order that, if any calamity such as a pestilence -should befall the city, they might be sacrificed to purify the city -from pollution. These persons were called φαρμακοί, ‘scape-goats,’ or -καθάρματα, ‘purifications[947].’ ‘If calamity overtook a city through -divine wrath, whether it were famine or pestilence or any other bane,’ -a _pharmakos_ was led out to an appointed place for sacrifice. Cheese, -barley-cake, and dried figs were given to him. He was smitten seven -times on the privy parts with squills and wild figs and other wild -plants; and finally he was burnt with fire upon fuel collected from -wild trees, and the ashes were scattered to the winds and the sea[948]. -At Athens, it appears, this rite was performed, not under the stress of -occasional calamity, but annually as part of the _Thargelia_, and was -therefore associated with Apollo[949]. - -All this evidence, with corroboration from other sources than those to -which I have referred, has recently been set forth by Miss Harrison, -who certainly has made out a strong case for the view which she thus -summarises: ‘The leading out of the _pharmakos_ is then a purely -magical ceremony based on ignorance and fear; it is not a human -sacrifice to Apollo or to any other divinity or even ghost, it is a -ceremony of physical expulsion[950].’ In other words, the _pharmakos_ -was treated as an incarnation of the polluting influence from which the -city was suffering; and his expulsion (which only incidentally involved -his death) was the means of purification. - -But there are certain points in the practice which incline me to put -forward another view of the _pharmakos_. His mission undoubtedly was to -purify the city; but the question to my mind is whether he was expelled -as a personification of the pollution or was led out and despatched to -the other world as a messenger on the city’s behalf to petition Apollo -or some other deity for purification from the defilement. - -It might, I think, have been this Greek rite which was present to -Herodotus’ mind when he was describing human sacrifice among the Getae. -He was apparently familiar, we saw, with the conception of the human -victim as a messenger; and the contrasts in method which seem to have -struck him most would certainly have been provided by the ceremony -of the _pharmakos_. The Getae chose the victim by lot from among -themselves; the Athenians apparently selected some deformed or criminal -slave--one of the very scum of the population. The Getae impaled their -messenger upon the spears of warriors; the Athenians treated the -_pharmakos_ as a burnt-sacrifice. The Getae entrusted their messages -to the victim before he was slain; did the Athenians perchance whisper -their petitions for purification in the ear of the dead _pharmakos_ as -he lay on the pyre? Was he the messenger whose treatment Herodotus had -in mind? - -There are certain points in the ritual itself which make for that view. -The _pharmakos_ was maintained for a time at the public cost. Why so? -A kindred custom of Marseilles in ancient times supplies the answer. -‘Whenever the inhabitants of Marseilles suffer from a pestilence, one -of the poorer class offers himself to be kept at the public expense and -fed on specially pure foods. After this has been done he is decorated -with sacred boughs and clad in holy garments, and led about through -the whole city to the accompaniment of curses, in order that upon him -may fall all the ills of the whole city, and thus he is cast headlong -down[951].’ The _pharmakos_ was therefore publicly maintained in order -that he might be purified by diet. Again, we know, the _pharmakos_ -was provided before the sacrifice with cheese, barley-cake, and dried -figs--pure food, it would seem, with which to sustain himself on his -journey to the other world. Again, he was smitten seven times on the -privy parts with squills and branches of wild fig and other wild -plants. Why with squill and wild fig? Because plants of this kind were -purgative, as Miss Harrison[952] very clearly points out. Among other -evidences of the existence of this idea, Lucian[953] makes Menippus -relate how before he was allowed to consult the oracle of the dead he -was “purged and wiped clean and consecrated with squill and torches.” -And why on the privy parts? Because sexual purity was required. When -Creon was bidden to sacrifice a son for the salvation of his city -in a time of calamity such as commonly called for the sacrifice of -a _pharmakos_, Haemon was refused because of his marriage[954], and -Menoeceus was the only pure victim. And why beaten at all? Because -again, as Miss Harrison shows[955], the act of beating was expulsive of -evil and pollution. So then the chief part of the ritual was devoted to -purifying the _pharmakos_ himself. - -But if the _pharmakos_ was thus himself made pure, how could his -expulsion purify the city? How could a man deliberately cleansed by -every religious or magical device serve as the embodiment of that -pollution of which the city sought to be rid? Miss Harrison[956] seeks -to explain this difficulty on the grounds of that combination of the -notions ‘sacred’ and ‘accursed,’ ‘pure’ and ‘impure,’ which the savage -describes in the word ‘taboo.’ But the notion of ‘taboo,’ though -complex, is not illogical; anything supernatural, which when properly -used or respected is holy, is logically enough believed to be fraught -with a curse for those who misuse or disregard it. But deliberately -to purify that which is to be the embodiment of defilement is not -the outcome of a complex but logical primitive notion; it is simply -illogical. - -The view of the rite then which I propose is briefly this. The -_pharmakos_ was originally a messenger, representative of a whole -people, carrying to some god their petition for deliverance from any -great calamity; and, that he might be fitted to enter the presence -of the god, he was purified, like Menippus before he was allowed to -approach even an oracle, by every known means. But the office of -_pharmakos_ did not always remain a post of honour. It was naturally -not coveted by those who found any pleasure in life; and gradually the -duty devolved upon the lowest of the low. Instead of an Iphigenia or -a Menoeceus the people’s chosen representative was some criminal or -slave, and the personality of the messenger overshadowed the character -of his office. The original purport of the rite was forgotten. Instead -of being honoured as the people’s ambassador, specially purified for -his mission of intercession with the gods, he was deemed an outcast -by whose removal the people could rid themselves of pollution. Thus -the religious rite lost its true motive and degenerated into a magical -ceremony of riddance. - -That this debased idea was the vulgar interpretation of the rite in -historical Athens is absolutely proved by a passage from Lysias’ -speech against Andocides: ‘We needs must hold that in avenging -ourselves and ridding ourselves of Andocides we purify the city and -perform apotropaic ceremonies and solemnly expel a _pharmakos_ and rid -ourselves of a criminal; for of this sort the fellow is[957].’ But the -whole ritual forms a protest against that idea. Its keynote was the -sanctification, not the degradation, of the _pharmakos_. In Marseilles -indeed the people’s change of attitude towards the messenger whom they -so scrupulously purified had gone so far that imprecations upon him -were substituted for the prayers which he should have been bidden to -carry; but in Athens and in Ionia the ritual itself, so far as we know, -contained no suggestion of contempt or hatred of the victim. It was -only the appearance and the character of those who were selected as -_pharmakoi_ which made of the word a term of vulgar abuse such as we -find it to be in Aristophanes[958]; for the scattering of the victim’s -ashes to the winds and waves must not be interpreted as an act denoting -any abhorrence of the dead man. Its significance is rather this. -Religious motives had involved an act of bloodshed, and the people who -had performed it as a religious duty were, like Orestes, none the less -guilty of blood. In any case of blood-guilt it was held prudent for -the guilty party to take precautions against his victim’s vengeance; -and one means to this end was, as we shall see later, to burn the body -and scatter its ashes. In the modern story from Santorini there is a -precaution mentioned which has precisely the same object; the victim’s -hands, as well as his head, were cut off. This, as I shall show later, -is a survival of the old μασχαλισμός or mutilation of murdered men, -by which they were rendered innocuous, if they should return from the -grave, and incapable of vengeance upon their murderers. There is then, -I repeat, nothing in the ritual itself which suggests any contempt or -hatred of the victim, as there assuredly would have been if from the -first he had been the incarnation of the city’s defilement. - -Possibly then the _pharmakos_ was originally a messenger from men -to gods, sent in any time of great calamity and peril; possibly too -this significance of the rite had not in Herodotus’ time been wholly -supplanted by the lower view to which Lysias gave utterance. Lysias -was addressing a jury and abusing an opponent; a vulgar and base -presentment of the _pharmakos_ suited the occasion. But sober and -reflective men may still have read in the ritual its early meaning and -have recognised in the _pharmakos_, for all his sorry appearance, the -purified representative of a people sent by them to lay their prayers -before some god. - -This, I am aware, is a suggestion and no more. To prove the existence -of this motive underlying any given case of human sacrifice in ancient -times is, owing to the meagre character of the data, impossible. But -since at any rate the conception of the dead as messengers was known -to the ancients--for that much, I think, I have proved--the suggestion -deserves consideration. If it be right, it shows that even the most -ugly and repulsive ceremonies of Greek worship need not be regarded as -damning refutation of the beauty of Greek religion. Though the act of -human sacrifice is horrible, the motive for it may have been sublime. -Where else in the civilised world is the faith which whispers messages -in a dead ear? Who shall cast the first stone at those who in this -faith dared to speed their messenger upon the road of death? Surely -such a deed is the crowning act of a faith which by dreams and oracles, -by auspices and sacrificial omens, has ever sought after communion with -the gods. - -Yet no, that faith aspired even higher; another chapter will treat of -a sacrament which foreshadowed not merely the colloquy of men with -gods as of servants with masters, but a closer communion between them, -the communion of love; for, as Plato says in the text which heads -this chapter, ‘all sacrifices and all the arts of divination, wherein -consists the mutual communion of gods and men, are for nought else but -the guarding and tending of Love.’ - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[787] Hesiod, _Works and Days_, 185, with reading οὐδὲ θεῶν ὄπα εἰδότες. - -[788] Βάκχος and Βάκχη, cf. Eur. _H. F._ 1119. - -[789] _De divinatione_, I. 3. - -[790] _op. cit._ I. 18. - -[791] _Prom. Vinct._ 485-99. - -[792] Suid. _Lex._ s.v. οἰωνιστική. - -[793] Cic. _de Divin._ I. 4. - -[794] _Ibid._ I. 6 and 18. - -[795] Above, p. 281. - -[796] Cf. Lucian, _Philopseudes_, 19 and 20. - -[797] See above p. 60. - -[798] Nov. 26. - -[799] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 19. - -[800] Cf. Cic. _de Divinat._ I. 18. - -[801] The shift of accent is curious. It may be some result of dialect, -but is not explained. - -[802] e.g. Hom. _Od._ XVIII. 116. - -[803] At midsummer. The name of the custom ὁ κλήδονας is sometimes -given as a title to the saint himself; and from his willingness to -enlighten enquirers concerning their future lot he is also named -sometimes ὁ Φανιστής (the enlightener) and ὁ Ῥιζικάς (from ῥίζικο, -‘lot’ or ‘destiny’), Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, ἡ Σινασός, p. 86. - -[804] Sonnini de Magnoncourt, _Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie_, II. pp. -126-7. - -[805] In the _Iliad_ it is not found. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, _Hist. de la -Divination_, I. p. 156. - -[806] Hom. _Od._ XVII. 114 ff. Cf. also _Od._ XX. 98 ff. - -[807] For examples see Herod. V. 72, VIII. 114, IX. 64, 91; Xenoph. -_Anab._ I. 8. 16. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, _op. cit._ I. p. 157. The word -φήμη is in some of these passages used in the sense of κληδών. - -[808] Paus. VII. 22. 2, 3. - -[809] Le Bas et Waddington, _Voyage Archéologique_, V. 1724^a. - -[810] Paus. IX. 11. 7. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, _Hist. de la Divin._ I. p. -159 and II. p. 400. - -[811] Paus. _ibid._ - -[812] The proper precaution is prescribed in the couplet, ’στὸ δρόμο -σὰν ἰδῆς παπᾶ, | κράτησ’ τ’ ἀρχίδι̯α σου καλά. _Si per viam sacerdoti -occurres, testiculos tuos teneto._ - -[813] γαϊδοῦρι με συμπάθειο, ‘a donkey, with your leave.’ So also often -in mentioning the number ‘three,’ and sometimes with ‘five.’ - -[814] Aristoph. _Aves_, 720. - -[815] _Eccles._ 792. - -[816] Theophr. _Char._ 16. 1. - -[817] _Ibid._ - -[818] _op. cit._ 16. 3. - -[819] Cf. Suidas, s.v. οἰωνιστική. - -[820] Bouché Leclercq, _op. cit._ I. p. 129. - -[821] Assuming derivation from οἶος, as υἱωνός from υἱός, κοινωνός from -κοινός. - -[822] Plutarch, _de solertia animalium_, cap. 20 (p. 975). - -[823] Bouché Leclercq, _Hist. de la Divin._ I. p. 133-4. - -[824] e.g. Hom. _Il._ XXIV. 310. - -[825] Hom. _Il._ VIII. 247. - -[826] _Etymol. Magn._ p. 619, s.v. οἰωνοπόλος. - -[827] Apoll. Rhod. III. 930. - -[828] Ovid, _Metam._ II. 548 sqq. - -[829] Hom. _Od._ XV. 526. - -[830] Hom. _Il._ X. 274. - -[831] Plutarch, _Pyth. Orac._ cap. 22. - -[832] Paroemiogr. Graec. I. pp. 228, 231, 352. - -[833] περὶ ὠμοπλατοσκοπίας καὶ οἰωνοσκοπίας. - -[834] Suid., _Lexicon_, s.v. οἰωνιστική. - -[835] _op. cit._ § 2. - -[836] Cf. Bouché Leclercq, _op. cit._ I. p. 140, note 2. - -[837] Hesiod, _Works and Days_, 745. - -[838] The identification of the birds named by even the more -intelligent peasants is necessarily uncertain. The name κουκουβάγια -is seemingly onomatopoeic, suggesting the hooting of the owl, but is -generally reserved to the brown owl. - -[839] _op. cit._ § 2. - -[840] In the dialects of Scyros and other Aegean islands, κ before the -sounds of ε and ι is regularly softened to τσ. The ρ has, as often, -suffered metathesis. - -[841] Hom. _Od._ XV. 524 ff. - -[842] Derivation from χαρά, instead of Χάρος, and πουλί is possible, -but less likely. It would then be an euphemistic name, ‘bird of joy.’ -An owl named στριγλοποῦλι (on which see above, p. 180) appears to be -a semi-mythical bird chiefly found in Hades; it is possibly identical -with ‘Charon’s bird.’ - -[843] Cf. Ἐμαν. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 126. - -[844] _Il._ VII. 184. - -[845] _Od._ XVII. 365. - -[846] _Il._ I. 597. - -[847] Βικέντιος Κορνάρος, Ἐρωτόκριτος, p. 320. - -[848] Aristot. _Hist. An._ IX. 1. - -[849] Cf. Aesch. _Sept._ 24, Soph. _Antig._ 999 sqq. - -[850] Origen, _contra Cels._ IV. 88. - -[851] _Homeric Hymn to Demeter_, 46. - -[852] e.g. Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 122, 123, 213, 232, 234, 235, -251 _et passim_. - -[853] A. Luber in a monograph _Die Vögel in den historischen Liedern -der Neugriechen_, pp. 6 ff., notes the impossibility of determining in -many cases whether a real bird or a scout is meant. - -[854] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ no. 415, vv. 5-7. Cf. 413, 414. - -[855] _Ibid._ no. 410. - -[856] ξεφτέρι (probably a diminutive from ὀξύπτερος), a ‘falcon,’ is a -favourite name for the warrior, just as the humbler πουλί, ‘bird,’ is -used for ‘scout.’ - -[857] With reference to Ibrahim’s Egyptian troops. - -[858] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ no. 256. - -[859] Cic. _de Divin._ I. 52, II. 12, 15, 16, 17. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, -_Hist. de la Divin._ I. p. 167. - -[860] Plato, _Tim._ 71 c. - -[861] Philostr. _Vit. Apollon._ VIII. 7. 49-52. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, -_op. cit._ I. p. 168. - -[862] For authorities on this point see Bouché Leclercq, _op. cit._ I. -p. 170. - -[863] Cf. _ibid._ p. 169. - -[864] K. O. Müller (_die Etrusker_, II. p. 187) places the introduction -of the custom in the sixth century B.C. - -[865] Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, p. 49 (1840). - -[866] Περὶ ὠμοπλατοσκοπίας καὶ οἰωνοσκοπίας, § 1. - -[867] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 210. No details are given. - -[868] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 176. - -[869] The writer does not actually mention the two things in connexion. -He belongs to that class of modern Greek writers who exhibit their -own intellectual emancipation by deploring or deriding popular -superstitions, and wastes so much energy therein that he fails to -note such points of interest. But, since it is not probable that the -peasants of Epirus eat meat more often than other Greek peasants, the -connexion of the sacrifice and the divination may, I think, be assumed. - -[870] Certain details of the art as practised in Macedonia are given by -Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 96. But, as they may in part be due -to Albanian influence there, I have not made use of them. - -[871] Περὶ ὠμοπλατοσκοπίας κ.τ.λ. _l. c._ - -[872] Reading ἄλλα γὰρ for ἀλλὰ γὰρ of Codex Vindobonensis, as -published in _Philologus_, 1853, p. 166. - -[873] The word is ῥάχις. This in relation to the body generally means -the ‘spine,’ but can be used of any ridge (as of a hill), and so here, -I suppose, of the ridge of bone along the shoulder-blade. - -[874] So I understand the somewhat obscure sentence, εἰ μὲν γὰρ -μεταξὺ τοῦ ὠμοπλάτου δύο ὑμένες ἐξ ἀμφοτέρων μερῶν τῆς ῥάχεως κ.τ.λ., -conjecturing οἱ before μεταξὺ, where Codex Vindob. has corruptly εἰ. - -[875] _Prom. Vinct._ 493. - -[876] Pausan. VI. 2. 5. - -[877] Tatian, _adv. Graecos_, I. Cf. Bouché Leclercq, _Hist. de la -Divin._ I. p. 170. - -[878] In Zagorion in Epirus, the ram is sacrificed on the entrance -of the bride to her new home (cf. the sacrifice of a cock mentioned -below). Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 183. - -[879] Curtius Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 86. - -[880] In Macedonia the weasel is said on the contrary to be a good -omen. Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 108. - -[881] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 203. - -[882] Theophr. _Char._ 16. - -[883] Theocr. _Id._ II. 35. - -[884] So too in antiquity apparently according to Propertius IV. (V.) -3. 60; Ovid (_Heroid._ XIX. 151) on the contrary reckons it a good omen. - -[885] Theocr. _Id._ III. 37 ἄλλεται ὀφθαλμός μευ ὁ δεξιός· ἆρά γ’ -ἰδησῶ | αὐτάν; the order of the words, it will be seen, justifies the -emphasis which I have given to δεξιός and to αὐτάν. - -[886] _Dialog. Meretric._ 9. 2. - -[887] The significance of right and left in this case is reversed in -Macedonia (cf. Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 112). But in all these -instances I am only giving what I have found to be the commonest form -of the superstition in Greece as a whole. - -[888] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 111. - -[889] The word ψοφῶ is properly used only of the dying of animals. - -[890] ἐπέπταρε πᾶσιν ἔπεσσιν. - -[891] Hom. _Od._ XVII. 539 ff. Cf. Xenoph. _Anab._ III. 2. 9 and -Catull. XLV. 9 and 18. - -[892] See above, p. 304. - -[893] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 22. - -[894] e.g. at the oracle of Hermes Agoraeus at Pherae the enquirer -performed the whole ceremony required and obtained his response without -the intervention of any priest or seer. Cf. above, p. 305. - -[895] See above, p. 121. - -[896] See above, p. 55. - -[897] Cf. an article by Ἀντ. Μηλιαράκης, τὸ ἐν Ἀμοργῷ Μαντεῖον τοῦ -Ἁγίου Γεωργίου τοῦ Βαλσαμίτου, in Περιοδικὸν τῆς Ἑστίας, no. 411, 13th -Nov. 1883. - -[898] Le Père Robert (Sauger), _Histoire nouvelle des anciens ducs -et autres souverains de l’Archipel_ (Paris, 1699) pp. 196-198. Cf. -Tournefort, _Voyage du Levant_, I. pp. 281 ff.; Sonnini de Magnoncourt, -_Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie_, vol. I. p. 290. - -[899] Bouché Leclercq, _Hist. de la Divin._ I. p. 187. - -[900] Pausan. III. 23. 8. - -[901] _De sacrificiis_, p. 12. - -[902] _Ibid._ cap. 2. - -[903] Plato, _Sympos._ p. 188. - -[904] Hom. _Il._ IX. 497 ff. - -[905] See above, pp. 322-3 and 326. - -[906] See above, p. 265. - -[907] See above, pp. 58-9. - -[908] Ancient offerings of this type, as found at Epidaurus, should -not I think be grouped all together as thank-offerings; many of them -belonged probably to the propitiatory class. - -[909] See above, p. 121. - -[910] See above, p. 145. - -[911] See above, p. 201. - -[912] Formerly (and again latterly) called Thera. - -[913] Le père Richard, _Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Sant-Erini_, -p. 23. - -[914] Called by him ὄρος τοῦ ἁγίου Στεφάνου; but the fact that there is -only this one mountain in the island and that it still has a chapel of -St Stephen on it places the identification beyond all doubt. - -[915] This phrase as noted down by me from memory along with the rest -of the story immediately after my interview is, I believe, verbally -exact. The old man’s words were ἐσκεφτήκαμε λοιπὸν κι’ ἀποφασίσαμε -νὰ στείλουμε ἄνθρωπο ’στὸν Ἅγι’ Νικόλα, γιὰ νά τον παρακαλέσῃ νὰ -ἐπιτυχαίνουνε τὰ καράβι̯α μας στὸν πόλεμο. - -[916] See above, p. 55. - -[917] The term ὁ θεός could not have been intended to apply to St -Nicolas; although the saints are practically treated as gods, they are -not so spoken of. See above, pp. 42 ff. - -[918] Plutarch, _Pelop._ 21 (p. 229). - -[919] Porph. _de Abstin._ 27 and 54. - -[920] Tzetz. _Hist._ XXIII. 726 ff. - -[921] Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη, II. p. 341. - -[922] Ραζέλης, Μυρολόγια, p. 16. Πολίτης, Μελέτη, II. 343. - -[923] _Popul. Carm._ no. 373. - -[924] Ραζέλης, Μυρολόγια, p. 36. Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη, II. p. 342. The -line runs μαντατοφόρος φρόνιμος ’ποῦ πάει ’στὸν κάτω κόσμο. - -[925] Eur. _Hec._ 422-3. - -[926] Verg. _Aen._ II. 547 sqq. - -[927] Diodor. Sic. V. 28. - -[928] e.g. Fauriel, _Chants de la Grèce Moderne, Discours Prélimin._ p. -39. Rennell Rodd, _Customs and Lore of Mod. Greece_, p. 129. - -[929] Dora d’Istria, _Les Femmes en Orient_, Bk. III. Letter 2. - -[930] Plutarch, _Vita Solon._ 20. - -[931] Hom. _Il._ XXIV. 719-775. - -[932] Plato, _Leg._ VII. p. 801. - -[933] An edict of the year 1662 preserved in the record-office ( -ἀρχαιοφυλακεῖον) of Zante was shown and interpreted to me by Mons. -Λεωνίδας Χ. Ζώης, whose courtesy I wish here to acknowledge. The -record-office contains much valuable material for the study of the -period of Venetian supremacy in the Heptanesos. - -[934] Soph. _Antig._ 29; Eur. _Hec._ 30; cf. also Soph. _Antig._ 203-4 -τάφῳ μήτε κτερίζειν, μήτε κωκῦσαί τινα, and _Philoct._ 360. - -[935] Hom. _Il._ XIX. 301-2. - -[936] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 335-6. - -[937] See below, pp. 555 ff. - -[938] Herodot. IV. 94. - -[939] For the evidence see Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of -Greek Religion_, pp. 96 ff. - -[940] Cf. Paus. VIII. 38. 7 and Porphyr. _de abstinentia_, II. 27. - -[941] Paus. VIII. 2. 6 and VIII. 38. 7 and Frazer’s note _ad loc._ - -[942] Paus. VIII. 38. 7. - -[943] Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, I. p. 458. - -[944] Tylor, _Primitive Culture_, I. p. 462. - -[945] See above, p. 264. - -[946] Paus. VIII. 38. 7. - -[947] Schol. ad Ar. _Eq._ 1136 in explanation of the word δημόσιοι. - -[948] Tzetzes, _Hist._ XXIII. 726 ff. quoting Hipponax’ authority on -most points. - -[949] Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, pp. -95 f. - -[950] _op. cit._ p. 108. - -[951] Serv. ad Verg. _Aen._ III. 75 as translated by Miss Harrison, -_op. cit._ p. 108. - -[952] _op. cit._ p. 100. - -[953] Luc. _Nek._ 7. - -[954] Eur. _Phoen._ 944. - -[955] _op. cit._ p. 100. - -[956] _op. cit._ p. 108. - -[957] Lysias, _c. Andoc._ 108. 4 as translated by Miss Harrison, _op. -cit._ p. 97 - -[958] _Ran._ 734, _Equ._ 1405 and fragm. 532 (from Miss Harrison, _op. -cit._ p. 97). - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE RELATION OF SOUL AND BODY. - - -§ 1. THE MODERN GREEK VAMPIRE. - -The division of the human entity into the two parts which we call -soul and body has been so universally recognised even among the most -primitive of mankind that the idea of it must have been first suggested -by the observation of some universal phenomenon--most probably the -phenomenon of unconsciousness whether in sleep, in fainting, in -trance, or in death. If it had been man’s lot to pass in this world a -life of activity unbroken by sleep or exhaustion, and thereafter to -be translated like Enoch or Ganymede to another world, so that the -spectacle of a body lying inert and senseless could never have been -forced upon men’s sight, the first impulse to speculation concerning -that impalpable something, the loss of which severs men from converse -with the waking, active world, might never have been given, and the -duality of human nature might never have been conceived. But death -above all overtaking each in turn has forced in turn the mourners for -each to muse on the future condition of these two elements which, -united, make a man, and, disjoined, leave but a corpse. Does neither or -does one or do both of them continue? And, continuing, what degree of -intelligence and of power has either or have both? Are they for ever -separated, or will they be re-united elsewhere? Such are the questions -that must have vexed, as they still vex, the minds of many when their -eyes were confronted by the spectacle of death. - -For some indeed a means of answering or of quieting such searchings of -heart has been found in the acceptance of religious dogma. But ancient -Greek religion, the faith or superstition in which the Hellenic people, -defiant alike of destructive and of constructive philosophy, lived -and moved and had their being, was not dogmatic; the very priests -were guardians and exponents of ceremonies rather than preachers of -doctrine; there was no organised hierarchy committed to one set creed -and prepared to assert the divine revelation of a single formulated -answer to these questions. The sum total of orthodoxy amounted to -little more than a belief in gods; and each man was free to believe -what he would, evil as well as good, concerning them, and to find for -himself hope or despair. In determining therefore the views to which -the mass of the common-folk inclined with regard to the relations of -soul and body, little assistance can be obtained in the first instance -from those personal opinions which literature has preserved to us, -opinions emanating from poets and philosophers who were not of the -people but consciously above them, and who set themselves some to -expose, others to reform, the popular religion, but few simply to -maintain it. The conservative force of the ancient religion lay in -the inherited and almost instinctive beliefs of the common-folk; oral -tradition weighed more with them than philosophic reasoning, and their -tenacity of customs as barbarous even as human sacrifice defied the -softening influences of an humaner civilisation. - -That these characteristics of the ancient Greek folk are stamped -equally upon the people of to-day is a fact which every page of -this book has confirmed; and it is therefore by analysis of modern -beliefs and customs relative to death that I propose to discover -the fundamental ideas held by the Greek people from the beginning -concerning the relations between soul and body. For I venture to -think that the great teachers of antiquity, whose doctrines dominate -ancient literature, were often more widely removed by their genius, -than are the modern folk by the lapse of centuries, from the peasants -of those early days, and that the oral tradition of a people who have -instinctively clung to every ancient belief and custom is even after -more than two thousand years a safer guide than the contemporary -writings of men who deliberately discarded or arbitrarily modified -tradition in favour of the results of their own personal speculations. -First then the peasants of modern Greece must furnish our clue to the -popular beliefs of antiquity; afterwards we may profitably consider the -use and handling of those beliefs in ancient literature. - -To this end I shall examine first and necessarily at some length a -certain abnormal condition of the dead about which very definite ideas -are everywhere held; for the abhorrence and dread with which the -abnormal state is regarded will be an accurate measure of the eagerness -with which the opposite and normal state is desired; and further in -this desire to promote and to secure the normal condition of the -departed will be found the motive of various funeral-customs. - -This abnormal condition of the dead is a kind of vampirism. It is -believed that under certain conditions a dead body is withheld from -the normal process of corruption, is re-animated, and revisits the -scenes of its former life, sometimes in a harmless or even kindly mood, -but far more often bent on mischief and on murder. The superstition -as it now stands is by no means wholly Greek or wholly popular. Two -extraneous influences, the one Slavonic and the other ecclesiastical, -have considerably modified it. But in the present section I shall -confine myself to describing the appearance, nature, habits, and proper -treatment of the Greek vampire as he is now conceived; the work of -analysing the superstition and of separating the pure Hellenic metal -from the extraneous alloys with which in its now current form it is -contaminated will occupy the next section; and the two which follow -will be devoted to showing that the native residue of superstition was -in fact well known to the ancient Greeks and was utilised to no small -extent in their literature. - -The best accounts of this superstition and of the savage practices to -which it led are furnished by writers of the seventeenth century. At -the present day, though the superstition is far from extinction, the -more violent outbreaks of it are comparatively rare; and, although -stories dealing with it may frequently be heard, it might perhaps be -difficult to piece together any complete and coherent account of the -Greek vampire without a previous knowledge obtained from writers of -two or three centuries ago. In such stories as I myself have heard I -have found nothing new, and have often missed something with which -older narratives had made me familiar. In the seventeenth century some -parts of Greece would seem to have been infested by these vampires. -The island of Santorini (the ancient Thera) acquired so enduring a -notoriety in this respect, that even at the present day ‘to send -vampires to Santorini[959]’ is a proverbial expression synonymous -with ‘owls to Athens’ or ‘coals to Newcastle’; and the inhabitants of -the island enjoyed so wide a reputation as experts in dealing with -them, that two stories recently published[960], one from Myconos and -the other from Sphakiá in Crete, actually end with the despatch of a -vampire’s body to Santorini for effective treatment there. The justice -of this reputation will shortly appear; for one of the best accounts -of the superstition was written by a Jesuit residing in the island, to -whom the resurrection of these vampires seemed an unquestionable, if -also inexplicable, phenomenon of by no means rare occurrence. Nowadays -cases of suspected vampirism are much less common, and I can count -myself very fortunate to have once witnessed the sequel of such a case. -But of that more anon. - -The most common form of the Greek name for this species of vampire -is βρυκόλακας[961], and in order to avoid on the one hand continual -qualification of the word ‘vampire’ (which I have used hitherto as the -nearest though not exact equivalent) and on the other hand confusion -of the Greek with the Slavonic species from which in certain traits -it differs, I prefer henceforth to adopt a transliteration of the -Greek word, and, save where I have occasion to speak of the purely -Slavonic form of vampire, to employ the name _vrykólakas_ (plural -_vrykólakes_[962]). - -The first of those writers of the seventeenth century whose accounts -deserve attention is one to whose treatise on various Greek -superstitions reference has already frequently been made, Leo Allatius. -‘The _vrykolakas_,’ he writes[963], ‘is the body of a man of evil -and immoral life--very often of one who has been excommunicated by -his bishop. Such bodies do not like those of other dead men suffer -decomposition after burial nor turn to dust, but having, as it -appears, a skin of extreme toughness become swollen and distended -all over, so that the joints can scarcely be bent; the skin becomes -stretched like the parchment of a drum, and when struck gives out -the same sound; from this circumstance the _vrykolakas_ has received -the name τυμπανιαῖος (“drumlike”).’ Into such a body, he continues, -the devil enters, and issuing from the tomb goes about, chiefly at -night, knocking at doors and calling one of the household. If such an -one answer, he dies next day; but a _vrykolakas_ never calls twice, -and so the inhabitants of Chios (whence Allatius’ observations and -information were chiefly derived) secure themselves by always waiting -for a second call at night before replying. ‘This monster is said to -be so destructive to men, that appearing actually in the daytime, even -at noon--and that not only in houses but in fields and highroads and -enclosed vineyards--it advances upon them as they walk along, and by -its mere aspect without either speech or touch kills them.’ Hence, when -sudden deaths occur without other assignable cause, they open the tombs -and often find such a body. Thereupon ‘it is taken out of the grave, -the priests recite prayers, and it is thrown on to a burning pyre; -before the supplications are finished the joints of the body gradually -fall apart; and all the remains are burnt to ashes....’ ‘This belief,’ -he pursues, ‘is not of fresh and recent growth in Greece; in ancient -and modern times alike men of piety who have received the confessions -of Christians have tried to root it out of the popular mind.’ - -As evidence of this statement he adduces a _nomocanon_, or ordinance of -the Greek Church, of uncertain authorship: - -‘Concerning a dead man, if such be found whole and incorrupt, the which -they call _vrykolakas_. - -‘It is impossible that a dead man become a _vrykolakas_, save it be -that the Devil, wishing to delude some that they may do things unmeet -and incur the wrath of God, maketh these portents, and oft-times -at night causeth men to imagine that the dead man whom they knew -before[964] cometh and speaketh with them, and in their dreams too they -see visions. Other times they see him in the road, walking or standing -still, and, more than this, he even throttles men. - -‘Then there is a commotion and they run to the grave and dig to see the -remains of the man ... and the dead man--one who has long been dead and -buried--appears to them to have flesh and blood and nails and hair ... -and they collect wood and set fire to it and burn the body and do away -with it altogether....’ - -Then, after denying the reality of such things, which exist in -imagination (κατὰ φαντασίαν) only, the _nomocanon_ with some -inconsistency continues: ‘But know that when such remains be found, -the which, as we have said, is a work of the Devil, ye must summon the -priests to chant an invocation of the Mother of God, ... and to perform -memorial services for the dead with funeral-meats[965].’ - -Allatius then leaving the _nomocanon_ pronounces his own views. ‘It is -the height of folly to deny altogether that such bodies are sometimes -found in the graves incorrupt, and that by use of them the Devil, if -God permit him, devises horrible plans to the hurt of the human race.’ -He therefore advocates the burning of them, always accompanied by -prayers. - -To the fact of non-decomposition he cites several witnesses--among -them Crusius[966] who narrates the case of a Greek’s body being found -by Turks in this condition after the man had been two years dead and -being burnt by them. Moreover Allatius himself claims to have been an -eye-witness of such a scene when he was at school in Chios. A tomb -having for some reason been opened at the church of St Antony, ‘on the -top of the bones of other men there was found lying a corpse perfectly -whole; it was unusually tall of stature; clothes it had none, time -or moisture having caused them to perish; the skin was distended, -hard, and livid, and so swollen everywhere, that the body had no flat -surfaces but was round like a full sack[967]. The face was covered -with hair dark and curly; on the head there was little hair, as also -on the rest of the body, which appeared smooth all over; the arms by -reason of the swelling of the corpse were stretched out on each side -like the arms of a cross; the hands were open, the eyelids closed, the -mouth gaping, and the teeth white.’ How the body was finally treated or -disposed of is not related. - -The next writer whose testimony deserves notice and respect is Father -François Richard, a Jesuit priest of the island of Santorini, to whose -work on that island reference has above been made[968]. Agreeing with -Allatius in his description of the appearance of _vrykolakes_, he -adds thereto many instances of their unpleasantly active habits. His -whole narrative bears the stamp of good faith, but is too long to -translate in full; and I must therefore content myself with a _précis_ -of it, indicating by inverted commas such phrases and sentences as are -literally rendered. - -The Devil, he says[969], works by means of dead bodies as well as -by living sorcerers. ‘These bodies he animates and preserves for a -long time in their entirety; he appears with the face of the dead, -traversing now the streets and anon the open country; he enters men’s -houses, leaving some horror-stricken, others deprived of speech, and -others again lifeless; here he inflicts violence, there loss, and -everywhere terror.’ At first I believed these apparitions to be merely -the souls of the dead returning to ask help to escape the sooner -from Purgatory; but such souls never commit such excesses--assault, -destruction of property, death, and so forth. It is clearly then a form -of diabolical possession; for indeed the priests with the bishop’s -permission employ forms of exorcism. They assemble on Saturday (the -only day on which _vrykolakes_ rest in the grave and cannot stir -abroad) and exhume the body which is suspected. ‘And when they find -it whole, fresh, and full of blood, they take it as certain that it -was serving as an instrument of the Devil.’ They accordingly continue -their exorcisms until with the departure of the Devil the body begins -to decompose and gradually to lose ‘its colour and its _embonpoint_, -and is left a noisome and ghastly lump.’ So rapid was the decomposition -in the case of a Greek priest’s daughter, Caliste by name, that no one -could remain in the church, and the body was hastily re-interred; from -that time she ceased to appear. - -When exorcisms fail, they tear the heart out, cut it to pieces, and -then burn the whole body to ashes. - -At Stampalia (Astypalaea), he proceeds, a short time before my arrival -(about the middle of the seventeenth century) five bodies were so -treated, those of three married men, a Greek monk, and a girl. In Nio -(Ios) a woman who was confessing to me affirmed that she had seen -her husband again fifty days after burial, though already his grave -had been once changed and the ordinary rites performed to lay him. -He began however again to torment the people, killing actually some -four or five; so his body was exhumed for the second time and was -publicly burnt. Only two years ago they burnt two bodies in the island -of Siphanto for the same reason; ‘and rarely does a year pass in -which people do not speak with dread of these false resuscitations.’ -In Santorini a shoemaker named Alexander living at Pyrgos became a -_vrykolakas_; he used to frequent his house, mend his children’s shoes, -draw water at the reservoir, and cut wood for the use of his family; -but the people became frightened, exhumed him, and burned him, and he -was seen no more.... In Amorgos these _vrykolakes_ have been seen not -only at night but in open day, five or six together in a field, feeding -apparently on green beans. - -I heard, continues the holy father, from the Abbé of the famous -monastery of Amorgos, that a certain merchant of Patmos, having gone -abroad on business, died. His widow sent a boat to bring his body home. -Now it so happened that one of the sailors sat down by accident upon -the coffin and to his horror felt the body move. They opened the coffin -therefore and found the body intact. Their fears being thus confirmed, -they nailed up the coffin again and handed it over to the widow without -a word and it was buried. But soon the dead man began to appear at -night in the houses, violent and turbulent to such a degree that more -than fifteen persons died of fright or of injuries inflicted by it. The -exorcisms of priests and monks proved useless, and they thought best -to send back the body whence it had been brought. The sailors however -unshipped it at the first desert island[970] and burnt it there, after -which it was seen no more. -The Abbé considered this possession by the devil to be a proof of the -truth of the Greek persuasion, alleging that no Mohammedan or Roman -Catholic ever became a _vrykolakas_[971]. This however is not strictly -accurate, for in Santorini a Roman priest, who had apostatized and -turned Mohammedan and who for his many crimes was finally hanged, -appeared after death and was only disposed of by burning. - -Another case was that of Iannetis Anapliotis of the same island, an -usurer who about a year before his death repented of his misdeeds -and made what amends he could; he also left his wife an order to pay -anything else justly reclaimed from him. She however though giving -much in charity did not pay his debts. It was just six weeks after -his death when she refused to satisfy some just claim for repayment, -and immediately he began to appear in the streets and to molest above -all his own wife and relatives. Also he woke up priests early in the -morning, telling them it was time for matins, pulled coverlets off -people as they slept, shook their beds, left the taps of wine-barrels -running, and so on. One woman was so frightened in broad day-light -as to lose the power of speech for three days, and another whose -bed he shook suffered a miscarriage. Then at length his name was -published--for as a man of some position he had till then been spared. -Exorcism was tried in vain by the Greek priests. Then by my advice the -widow paid off all her husband’s debts and made due restitution. Also -she had the body exhumed and exorcised a second time. On this occasion -I saw it, but it did not look like a real _vrykolakas_; for, though the -hands were whole and parchment-like, the head and the entrails were -to some extent decomposed. At the end of the ceremony of exorcism the -priests hacked the body to pieces and buried it in a new grave. From -this time the _vrykolakas_ never re-appeared, but this was due, in my -opinion, to the restitution made, not to the treatment of the body. - -There are in Greek cemeteries dead bodies of another kind which after -fifteen or sixteen years--sometimes even twenty or thirty--are found -inflated like balloons, and when they are thrown on the ground or -rolled along, sound like drums; for this reason they have the name -ντουπί[972] (drum).... The common opinion of the Greeks is that this -inflation is a sure sign that the man had suffered excommunication; -and indeed Greek priests and bishops add always to the formula of -excommunication the curse, καὶ μετὰ τὸν θάνατον ἄλυτος καὶ ἀπαράλυτος, -‘and after death to remain indissoluble[973].’ - -In a manuscript from the Church of St Sophia at Thessalonica, he -continues, I found the following: - - Ὁποῖος ἔχει ἐντολὴν ἢ κατάραν, κρατοῦσι μόνον τὰ ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ σώματός - του. - - Ἐκεῖνος ὁποῦ ἔχει ἀνάθεμα, φαίνεται κιτρινὸς καὶ ζαρωμένα τὰ δακτύλιά - του. - - Ἐκεῖνος ὁποῦ φαίνεται ἀσπρὸς[974] (_sic_), εἶναι ἀφωρισμένος παρὰ τῶν - θείων νόμων. - - Ἐκεῖνος ὁποῦ φαίνεται μαῦρος, εἶναι ἀφωρισμένος ὑπὸ ἀρχιερέως. - - ‘He who has left a command of his parents unfulfilled or is under - their curse has only the front portions of his body preserved. - - ‘He who is under an anathema looks yellow and his fingers are wrinkled. - - ‘He who looks white has been excommunicated by divine laws. - - ‘He who looks black has been excommunicated by a bishop.’ - -From this account it is manifest that Father Richard, with the -experience acquired by residence in Santorini, drew a distinction not -known to Leo Allatius between two classes of dead persons. Those, who -though not subject to the natural law of decomposition lay quiescent -in their graves, were merely τυμπανιαῖοι or ‘drum-like’; while -_vrykolakes_ proper were addicted also to periodical resurrection. -And the extract with which he concludes his description shows that -the authorities of the rival Church pretended to powers of even more -subtle discrimination between different species of incorrupt corpses. -The importance of Father Richard’s distinction will appear later; there -was originally a difference in the usage of the two words, although -not precisely the difference which he makes; but by the middle of the -seventeenth century popular speech rarely discriminated between them. -To the common-folk, whose views Leo Allatius fairly presents, any -body which was withheld from decomposition for any cause was at least -a potential _vrykolakas_, even if its power of resurrection was not -known to have been exerted and no act of violence had been traced to it. - -For further attestation of the prevalence and the violence of this -superstition it would be easy to quote many graphic accounts by other -writers, such as Robert Sauger[975], another Jesuit of Santorini, or -the traveller Tournefort[976]. But it will suffice to call as witness -Paul Lucas, whose observations concern a part of the Greek world remote -enough from either Chios or Santorini, the island of Corfu. ‘Some -persons,’ he says, ‘who seem possessed of sound good sense speak of a -curious thing which often happens in this place, as also in the island -of Santorini. According to their account dead persons return and show -themselves in open day, going even into the houses and inspiring great -terror in those who see them. In consequence of this, whenever one of -these apparitions is seen, the people go at once to the cemetery to -exhume the corpse, which is then cut in pieces and finally is burnt by -sentence of the Governors and Magistrates. This done, these quasi-dead -return no more. Monsieur Angelo Edme, Warden and Governor of the -island, assured me that he himself had pronounced a sentence of this -kind in a case where upwards of fifty reasonable persons were found to -testify to the occurrence[977].’ - -The superstition, which had so firm a grip upon the Greeks of two or -three centuries ago, has by no means relaxed its hold at the present -day, in spite of the efforts made by the higher authorities civil -and ecclesiastical, native and foreign, to suppress those savage and -gruesome ceremonies to which it leads. The horrible scenes of old time, -when the suspected body was dragged from its grave and dismembered -by a panic-stricken and desperate mob, when the heart, as sometimes -happened, was torn out and boiled to shreds in vinegar, or when the -ghastly remains were burnt on a public bonfire, have certainly become -rarer. The administrative action of the Venetians in the Ionian -Islands in requiring proof to be furnished of the _vrykolakas’_ -resuscitation, and official sanction to be obtained for exhuming and -burning the body; the more vigorous suppression of such acts by the -Turks in the Aegean Islands[978] and probably also on the mainland; -the somewhat half-hearted condemnation of the superstition by the -Greek Church, which, as we shall see later, maintained the belief in -the non-decomposition of excommunicated persons and notorious sinners, -hesitated between denying and explaining the further notion that such -persons were liable to re-animation, but certainly endeavoured to -repress or to mitigate the atrocities to which that notion led; and -at the present day the forces of law and order as represented on the -one hand by the police and on the other by modern education, the chief -fruit of which is a desire to appear ‘civilised’ in the eyes of Europe; -all these influences combined have certainly succeeded in reducing the -proportions of the superstition and curtailing the excesses consequent -upon it. Thus in some places the old practice of burning corpses which -fail to decompose within the normal period--and it must be remembered -that exhumation after three years’ burial is an established rite of the -Church in Greece--has been definitely superseded by milder expedients. -In Scyros the body is carried round to forty churches in turn and is -then re-interred, while in parts of Crete, in Cythnos[979], and, I -believe, in some other Aegean Islands the custom is to transfer the -body to a grave in some uninhabited islet, whence its return is barred -by the intervening salt water. - -None the less the superstition itself still holds a firm place among -the traditional beliefs of modern Greece. Witness the following account -of it from a history[980] of the district of Sphakiá in Crete written -by the head of a monastery there and published in 1888: - -‘It is popularly believed that most of the dead, those who have -lived bad lives or who have been excommunicated by some priest (or, -worse still, by seven priests together, τὸ ἑπταπάπαδον[981]) become -_vrykolakes_[982]; that is to say, after the separation of the soul -from the body there enters into the latter an evil spirit, which takes -the place of the soul and assumes the shape of the dead man and so is -transformed into a _vrykolakas_ or man-demon. - -‘In this guise it keeps the body as its dwelling-place and preserves -it from corruption, and it runs swift as lightning wherever it lists, -and causes men great alarms at night and strikes all with panic. And -the trouble is that it does not remain solitary, but makes everyone, -who dies while it is about, like to itself, so that in a short space -of time it gets together a large and dangerous train of followers. The -common practice of the _vrykolakes_ is to seat themselves upon those -who are asleep and by their enormous weight to cause an agonizing sense -of oppression. There is great danger that the sufferer in such cases -may expire, and himself too be turned into a _vrykolakas_, if there -be not someone at hand who perceives his torment and fires off a gun, -thereby putting the blood-thirsty monster to flight; for fortunately it -is afraid of the report of fire-arms and retreats without effecting its -purpose. Not a few such scenes we have witnessed with our own eyes. - -‘This monster, as time goes on, becomes more and more audacious and -blood-thirsty, so that it is able completely to devastate whole -villages. On this account all possible haste is made to annihilate the -first which appears before it enter upon its second period of forty -days[983], because by that time it becomes a merciless and invincible -dealer of death. To this end the villagers call in priests who profess -to know how to annihilate the monster--for a consideration. These -impostors proceed after service to the tomb, and if the monster be not -found there--for it goes to and fro molesting men--they summon it in -authoritative tones to enter its dwelling-place; and, as soon as it is -come, it is imprisoned there by virtue of some prayer and subsequently -breaks up. With its disruption all those who have been turned into -_vrykolakes_ by it, wherever they may be, suffer the same lot as their -leader. - -‘This absurd superstition is rife and vigorous throughout Crete and -especially in the mountainous and secluded parts of the island.’ -So too another well-informed Greek writer, who has published a series -of monographs upon the Cyclades, says in one of them[984]: - -‘The ignorant peasant of Andros believes to this day that the corpse -can rise again and do him hurt; and is not this belief in _vrykolakes_ -general throughout Greece?’ - -To that question I might without hesitation answer ‘yes,’ even on the -grounds of my own experience only; for the places in which I have -heard _vrykolakes_ mentioned, not merely in popular stories[985] such -as are told everywhere, but with a very present and real sense of -dread, include some villages on the west slopes of Mount Pelion, the -village of Leonidi on the east coast of the Peloponnese, Andros, Tenos, -Santorini, and Cephalonia. - -The wide range and general prevalence of the superstition in modern -times being thus established, it remains only to record a few recent -cases in which the peasants, in defiance of law and order, have gone -the length of exhuming and burning the suspected body. - -Theodore Bent[986] states that a few months before his visit to Andros -(somewhat over twenty years ago) the grave of a suspected _vrykolakas_ -was opened by a priest and the body taken out, cut into shreds, and -burnt. In January of 1895 at Mantoúde in Euboea a woman was believed -to have turned _vrykolakas_ and to have caused many deaths, and -the peasants resolved to exhume and burn her--but it is not stated -whether the resolve was actually carried out[987]. In 1899, when I -was in Santorini, I was told that two or three years previously the -inhabitants of Therasia had burnt a _vrykolakas_, and when I visited -that island the incident was not denied but the responsibility for it -was laid upon the people of Santorini. In 1902 there was a similar -case of burning at Gourzoúmisa near Patras[988]. These are certain and -well-attested instances of the continuance of the practice, and, regard -being had to the secrecy which such breaches of the law necessarily -demand, it is not unreasonable to suppose that even now a year seldom -passes in which some village of Greece does not disembarrass itself of -a _vrykolakas_ by the traditional means, cremation[989]. - -Of the causes by which a man is predisposed to become a _vrykolakas_ -some mention has already been made in the passages which have been -cited from various writers above; but before I conclude this account -of the superstition as it now is and has been since the seventeenth -century, and proceed to analyse its composite nature, it may be -convenient to give a complete list of such causes. The majority of -these are recognised all over Greece and are familiar to every student -of modern Greek folklore, and I shall not therefore burden this chapter -with references to previous writers whose observations tally exactly -with my own; for rarer and more local beliefs I shall of course quote -my authority. - -The classes of persons who are most liable to become _vrykolakes_ are: - -(1) Those who do not receive the full and due rites of burial. - -(2) Those who meet with any sudden or violent death (including -suicides), or, in Maina[990], where the _vendetta_ is still in vogue, -those who having been murdered remain unavenged. - -(3) Children conceived or born on one of the great -Church-festivals[991], and children stillborn[992]. - -(4) Those who die under a curse, especially the curse of a parent, or -one self-invoked, as in the case of a man who, in perjuring himself, -calls down on his own head all manner of damnation if what he says be -false. - -(5) Those who die under the ban of the Church, that is to say, -excommunicate. - -(6) Those who die unbaptised or apostate[993]. - -(7) Men of evil and immoral life in general, more particularly if they -have dealt in the blacker kinds of sorcery. - -(8) Those who have eaten the flesh of a sheep which was killed by a -wolf[994]. - -(9) Those over whose dead bodies a cat or other animal has passed[995]. - -The _provenance_ and the significance of these various beliefs -concerning the causes of vampirism will be discussed in the next -section. - - -§ 2. THE COMPOSITION OF THE SUPERSTITION. SLAVONIC, ECCLESIASTICAL, AND -HELLENIC CONTRIBUTIONS. - -_Vrykolakes_ are not ghosts. Such is the first observation which I am -compelled to make and which the reader of the last chapter might well -consider superfluous. But so many Greek writers, and with them even -Bernhard Schmidt[996], have fallen into the error of comparing ancient -ghost-stories with modern tales about _vrykolakes_, without apparently -recognising the essential and fundamental difference between them, that -some insistence upon the point is necessary. That a definite and close -relation does indeed subsist between the ancient belief in wandering -spirits and the modern belief in wandering corpses, I readily admit, -and with that relation I shall deal later; but the issue before us can -only be kept clear by remembering that _vrykolakes_ are not ghosts. -There is absolute unanimity among the Greek peasants in their belief -that the corpse itself is the _vrykolakas_, and even the work of -re-animating the corpse is generally credited not to the soul which -formerly inhabited it, but to the Devil. Thus it appears that whereas -most peoples believe to some extent in the return of the ghosts or -spirits of the dead, the Greeks fear rather the return of their bodies. -If then we can determine what part, if any, of this superstition is -genuinely Hellenic, we shall have gained a step in our knowledge of the -ideas popularly held in ancient Greece concerning the condition and the -relations of soul and body after death. - -The view which I take is briefly this, that though Slavonic influence -is very conspicuous in the modern superstition as I have described it, -yet the whole superstition has not been transplanted root and branch -from Slavonic to Greek soil, but the growth, as we now see it and as -the writers of the seventeenth century saw it, is the result of the -grafting of Slavonic branches upon an Hellenic stock; and further, -that before that process began the old pagan Greek element in the -superstition had been modified in certain respects by ecclesiastical -influence. This is the view which I propose to develop in this section; -and my method will be to work back from the modern superstition, -removing first the Slavonic and then the ecclesiastical elements in it, -and so leaving a residue of purely Hellenic belief. - -To Slavonic influence is due first of all the actual word _vrykolakas_, -the derivation of which need not long detain us. Patriotic attempts -have indeed been made by Greeks to deny its Slavonic origin, the most -plausible being that of Coraës[997], who selecting the local form -βορβόλακας sought to identify it with a supposed ancient form μορμόλυξ -(= μορμολύκη, μορμολυκεῖον), a ‘bugbear’ or ‘hobgoblin’ of some kind. -But there need be no hesitation in pronouncing this suggestion wrong -and in asserting the identity of the modern Greek word with a word -which runs through all the Slavonic languages. This word is in form -a compound of which the first half means ‘wolf’ and the second has -been less certainly identified with _dlaka_, the ‘hair’ of a cow or -horse. But, however the meaning of the compound has been obtained, -it is, in the actual usage of all Slavonic languages save one, the -exact equivalent of our ‘were-wolf[998].’ That one exception is the -Serbian language in which it is said to bear rather the sense of -‘vampire[999].’ If this is true, the reason for the transition of -meaning lies probably in the belief current among the Slavonic peoples -in general that a man who has been a were-wolf in his lifetime becomes -a vampire after death[1000]. Yet in general there is no confusion of -nomenclature. Although the depredations of the were-wolf and of the -vampire are similar in character, the line of demarcation between the -living and the dead is kept clear, and the great mass of the Slavonic -peoples apply only to the living that word from which the Greek -_vrykolakas_ comes, and to the dead the word which we have borrowed in -the form ‘vampire[1001].’ - -Now among the Greeks the latter word is almost unknown; in parts of -Macedonia indeed where the Greek population lives in constant touch -with Slavonic peoples, a form βάμπυρας or βόμπυρας has been adopted and -is used as a synonym of _vrykolakas_ in its ordinary Greek sense[1002]; -but in Greece proper and in the Greek islands the word ‘vampire’ is, so -far as I can discover, absolutely non-existent, and it is _vrykolakas_ -which ordinarily denotes the resuscitated corpse. In discriminating -therefore between the Slavonic and the Greek elements in the modern -Greek superstition it is of some importance to determine in which -sense the Greeks originally borrowed the word _vrykolakas_ which at -the present day they in general employ in a different sense from that -which both etymology and general Slavonic usage accord to it. Was it -originally borrowed in the sense of ‘were-wolf’ or in the sense of -‘vampire’? - -Among Slavonic peoples the only one said to have transferred the -word _vrykolakas_ from its original meaning to that of ‘vampire’ is -the Serbian; and the Greeks therefore, in order to have borrowed the -word in that sense, would have had to borrow direct from the Serbian -language. But linguistic evidence renders that hypothesis untenable. -All the many Greek dialectic forms of the word _vrykolakas_ concur -in showing a liquid (ρ or λ) in the first syllable; while Serbian -is among the two or three Slavonic languages which have discarded -that liquid. It follows therefore that the Greeks borrowed the word -from some Slavonic language other than Serbian, and consequently from -some language which used and still uses that word in the sense of -‘were-wolf.’ - -Further, there is evidence that in the Greek language itself the -word _vrykolakas_ does even now locally and occasionally bear its -original significance. This usage indeed is flatly denied by Bernhard -Schmidt, who, having accurately distinguished the were-wolf and the -vampire, states that ‘the modern Greek _vrykolakas_ answers only to -the latter[1003].’ This pronouncement however was made in the face -of two strong pieces of independent evidence to the contrary, which -Schmidt notices and dismisses in a footnote[1004]. The first witness -is Hanush[1005], who was plainly told by a Greek of Mytilene that -there were two kinds of _vrykolakes_, the one kind being men already -dead, and the other still living men who were subject to a kind of -somnambulism and were seen abroad particularly on moonlight nights. The -other authority is Cyprien Robert[1006], who describes the _vrykolakes_ -of Thessaly and Epirus thus: ‘These are living men mastered by a kind -of somnambulism, who seized by a thirst for blood go forth at night -from their shepherd’s-huts, and scour the country biting and tearing -all that they meet both man and beast.’ - -To these two pieces of testimony--strong enough, it might be thought, -in their mutual agreement to merit more than passing notice and -arbitrary rejection--I can add confirmation of more recent date. In -Cyprus, during excavations carried out in the spring of 1899 under -the auspices of the British Museum, the directors of the enterprise -heard from their workmen several stories dealing with the detection -of a _vrykolakas_. The outline of these stories (to which Tenos -furnishes many parallels[1007], though in these latter I have not -found the word _vrykolakas_ employed) is as follows. The inhabitants -of a particular village, having suffered from various nocturnal -depredations, determine to keep watch at night for the marauder. -Having duly armed themselves they maintain a strict vigil, and are -rewarded by seeing a _vrykolakas_. Thereupon one of them with gun or -sword succeeds in inflicting a wound upon the monster, which however -for the nonce escapes. But the next day a man of the village, who had -not been among the watchers of the night, is observed to bear a wound -exactly corresponding with that which the assailant of the _vrykolakas_ -had dealt; and being taxed with it the man confesses himself to be a -_vrykolakas._ - -Similarly on the borders of Aetolia and Acarnania, in the neighbourhood -of Agrinion, I myself ascertained that the word _vrykolakas_ was -occasionally applied to living persons in the sense of were-wolf, -although there as elsewhere it more commonly denotes a resuscitated -corpse. Lycanthropy, as has been observed in a previous chapter[1008], -is in Greece often imputed to children. In the district mentioned this -is conspicuously the case. If one or more children in a family die -without evident cause, the mother will often regard the smallest or -weakliest of the survivors--more especially one in any way deformed -or demented--as guilty of the brothers’ or sisters’ deaths, and the -suspect is called a _vrykolakas_. Εἶσαι βρυκόλακας καὶ ’φάγες τὸν -ἀδερφό σου, ‘you are a _vrykolakas_ and have devoured your brother,’ is -the charge hurled at the helpless infant, and ill-treatment to match is -meted out in the hope of deterring it from its bloodthirsty ways. - -In effect from four widely separated parts of the Greek -world--Mytilene, Cyprus, the neighbourhood of Agrinion, and the -district of Thessaly and Epirus--comes one and the same statement, that -to the word _vrykolakas_ is still, or has recently been, attached its -etymologically correct meaning ‘were-wolf’; and, since these isolated -local usages cannot be explained otherwise than as survivals of an -usage which was once general, they constitute a second proof that the -Greeks originally adopted the word in the sense in which the vast -majority of the Slavonic races continue down to this day to employ it. - -But while it is thus certain that the Greeks first learnt and acquired -the word _vrykolakas_ in the sense of ‘were-wolf,’ it is equally -certain that the main characteristics of the monster to which that name -is now applied are those of the Slavonic ‘vampire.’ The appearance and -the habits of the re-animated corpse according to Slavonic superstition -differ hardly at all from those described in the last chapter. Indeed -the question is not so much whether the Greeks are indebted to the -Slavs in respect of this belief, as what is the extent of their -indebtedness. Is the whole superstition a foreign importation, or is it -only partly alien and partly native? - -The former alternative is rendered improbable in the first place by -the fact that the Greeks have not adopted the word ‘vampire.’ If the -whole idea of dead men remaining under certain conditions incorrupt -and emerging from their graves to work havoc among living men had been -first communicated to them by the Slavs, they must almost inevitably -have borrowed the name by which the Slavs described those men. But -since in fact they did not adopt the Slavonic name ‘vampire,’ it is -probable that they already possessed in their own language some word -adequate to express that idea, and therefore possessed also some native -superstition concerning resuscitation of the dead which Slavonic -influence merely modified. - -Further, there is positive evidence that such a word or words existed; -for there have been, and still are, dialects which employ a word of -Greek formation in preference not merely to the word ‘vampire,’ which -seems to be unknown in Greece proper, but even to the misapplied -Slavonic word _vrykolakas_. Thus Leo Allatius was familiar with the -word τυμπανιαῖος, ‘drum-like,’ but whether in his day it belonged -especially to his native island Chios[1009] or was still in general -usage, he does not record. At the present day it survives only, so -far as I know, in Cythnos, where also ἄλυτος, ‘incorrupt,’ is used -as another synonym[1010]. From Cythera are reported three names, -ἀνάρραχο, λάμπασμα, and λάμπαστρο[1011], evidently Greek in formation -but to me, I must confess, unintelligible. In Cyprus (where, as -we have seen, the word _vrykolakas_ may still bear its old sense -‘were-wolf’) the _revenant_ is named σαρκωμένος[1012], because his -swollen appearance suggests that he has ‘put on flesh,’ or more rarely -στοιχειωμένος[1013], perhaps with the idea that he has become the -‘genius’ (στοιχειό)[1014] of some particular locality. Again, from the -village of Pyrgos in Tenos is reported the word ἀναικαθούμενος[1015] -meaning apparently one who ‘sits up’ in his grave. Finally, in Crete -the name popularly employed is καταχανᾶς[1016], the origin of which is -not certain. Bernhard Schmidt[1017], following Koraës[1018], derives -it from κατὰ and χάνω (= ancient Greek χαόω), ‘lose,’ ‘destroy,’ and -would have it mean accordingly ‘destroyer.’ I would suggest that -derivation from κατὰ and the root χαν-, ‘gape,’ ‘yawn,’ is at least -equally probable, inasmuch as other local names such as τυμπανιαῖος, -‘drumlike,’ and σαρκωμένος, ‘fleshy,’ have reference to the monster’s -personal appearance, and the ‘gaper’ in like manner would be a name -eminently suitable to a creature among whose features are numbered -by Leo Allatius ‘a gaping mouth and gleaming teeth[1019].’ The same -name was some forty years ago[1020], and probably still is, used in -Rhodes, and in a Rhodian poem of the fifteenth century occurs both -in its literal sense and as a term of abuse[1021]. This secondary -usage however is in no way a proof that the word meant originally -‘destroyer’ rather than ‘gaper’; for by the fifteenth century there -can be little doubt that the _revenant_ was everywhere an object of -horror, and therefore his name, whatever it originally meant, furnished -a convenient term of vituperation. But one thing at least is clear, -that καταχανᾶς, whichever interpretation of it be right, is certainly -a word of Greek origin no less than the others which I have enumerated. - -Now all these dialectic Greek names are found, it will have been -observed, only in certain of the Greek islands, while on the mainland -_vrykolakas_ has come to be universally employed. But it was the -mainland which was particularly exposed to Slavonic immigration and -influence, while islands like Crete and Cyprus were practically immune. -Hence, while the mainland gradually adopted a Slavonic word, it was -likely enough that some of the islands should retain their own Greek -terms, even though in the course of their relations with the mainland -they became acquainted also with the new Slavonic word. These insular -names for the _vrykolakas_ may therefore be regarded as survivals from -a pre-Slavonic period, and, though they are now merely dialectic, it is -reasonable to suppose that one or more of them formerly held a place -in the language of mainlanders and islanders alike. But the existence -of such words presupposes the existence of a belief in some kind of -resuscitated beings denoted by them. In other words, the Greeks when -first brought into contact with the Slavs already possessed a belief -in the re-animation and activity of certain dead persons, which so -far resembled the Slavonic belief in vampirism, that the Slavonic -vampire could be adequately denoted by some Greek word or words already -existing and there was no need to adopt the Slavonic name. - -I claim then to have established two important points: first, that -the word _vrykolakas_ was originally borrowed by the Greeks from the -Slavs in the sense of ‘were-wolf,’ though now it is almost universally -employed in the sense of ‘vampire’; secondly, that, whatever ideas -concerning vampires the Greeks may have learnt from the Slavs, they did -not adopt the Slavonic word ‘vampire’ but employed one of those native -Greek words, such as τυμπανιαῖος or καταχανᾶς, which are still in local -usage; whence it follows that some superstition anent re-animated -corpses existed in Greece before the coming of the Slavs. - -These points being established, I am now in a position to trace the -development of the superstition in Greece from the time of the Slavonic -immigrations onward, and to show how it came to pass that, whereas -in the tenth century, let us say, when the Greeks had had ample time -to imbibe Slavonic superstitions, _vrykolakas_ meant a ‘were-wolf,’ -and a ‘vampire’ was denoted by τυμπανιαῖος or some other Greek word, -nowadays _vrykolakas_ almost always means a ‘vampire’ and τυμπανιαῖος -is well-nigh obsolete. - -The Slavs brought with them into Greece two superstitions, the -one concerning were-wolves and the other concerning vampires. The -old Hellenic belief in lycanthropy was apparently at that time -weak--confined perhaps to a few districts only--for the Greeks borrowed -from the invaders their word _vrykolakas_ in the place of the old -λυκάνθρωπος[1022], by which to express the idea of a ‘were-wolf.’ They -also learnt the Slavonic superstition concerning vampires, but in -this case did not borrow the word ‘vampire’ but expressed the notion -adequately by means of one of those words which now survive only in -insular dialects--adequately, I say, but not exactly. For--and here -I must anticipate what will be proved later--the Greeks denoted by -those words a _revenant_ but not a vampire. They believed in the -incorruptibility and the re-animation of certain classes of dead men, -but they did not impute to these _revenants_ the savagery which is -implied by the name ‘vampire.’ The dead who returned from their graves -acted, it was held, as reasonable men, not as ferocious brutes. This -did not of course exclude the idea that a _revenant_ might return to -seek revenge where vengeance was due; he was not necessarily peaceable; -but if he exacted even the life of one who had wronged him, the act of -vengeance was reasonable. To the proof of this, as I have said, I shall -come later on; here I will only point out that the names which survive -in the island-dialects are perfectly consistent with my view. Of the -words τυμπανιαῖος, ‘drumlike,’ σαρκωμένος, ‘fleshy,’ στοιχειωμένος, -‘_genius_,’ ἀναικαθούμενος, ‘sitting up’ in the grave, and, if my -interpretation is right, καταχανᾶς, ‘gaper,’ not one suggests any -inherent ferocity in the resuscitated dead. - -Nevertheless, when the Greeks first heard of the Slavonic ‘vampire,’ -they naturally regarded it merely as a new and particularly vicious -species of the genus _revenant_. Their own words for the genus -implied no idea beyond that of the resuscitation of the dead, and -were therefore no less applicable to the uniformly ferocious Slavonic -variety than to the more reasonable and human type with which they -themselves were familiar. They therefore did not require the word -‘vampire,’ but were content at first to comprise all _revenants_, -whatever their character, under one or other of the existing Greek -names. - -Subsequently however, it appears, a change took place. The Slavonic -superstition concerning were-wolves included then, we may suppose, as -it includes now[1023], the idea that were-wolves become after death -vampires. The Greeks, who borrowed from the Slavs the very name of -the were-wolf, must therewith have learnt that these _vrykolakes_ as -they then called them were among the classes of men who were liable -to vampirism; and in this particular case it would surely have seemed -natural to them that the _revenant_ should be conspicuous for ferocity. -The conduct of a reasonable being could not be expected after death -from one who in his lifetime had suffered from lycanthropic mania; -or rather, if there could be any reason in his conduct, the most -reasonable and consistent thing would be for him to turn vampire. - -Thus one class of _revenants_ came to be distinguished in the now -composite Greek superstition by its wanton and blood-thirsty character; -and in order to mark this distinction in speech also the Greeks, it -would seem, began to call one who from a were-wolf had become a genuine -vampire by the same name after as before death, _vrykolakas_, while to -the more reasonable and human _revenants_ they still applied some such -term as τυμπανιαῖοι, ‘drumlike.’ - -By the seventeenth century the superstition had undergone a further -change, which is reflected in the usage of the word τυμπανιαῖος. In -proportion as the horror of real _vrykolakes_ had grown and spread, the -very memory of the more innocent kind of _revenants_ had faded, until -the genus _revenant_ was represented only by the species _vrykolakas_. -The word τυμπανιαῖος was indeed still known, but Leo Allatius was -undoubtedly following the popular usage of his time when he made it -synonymous with _vrykolakas_; for those narratives of the seventeenth -century from which I have quoted above make it abundantly clear that -the common-folk had come to suspect all _revenants_ alike of predatory -propensities. - -This change in popular beliefs placed the Church in an awkward -predicament, and was the cause of a marked divergence between the -popular and the clerical usages of the word τυμπανιαῖος. It had long -been claimed that a sentence of excommunication was binding upon -a man even beyond death and could arrest the natural process of -decomposition; indeed the formula officially employed ended, as Father -Richard of Santorini notes, with the phrase, ‘and after death to remain -indissoluble.’ But when the fear of real vampires spread over Greece, -the priests would naturally have been unwilling to be held responsible -for the resuscitation of such pests, while they were equally unwilling -to diminish the terrors of excommunication by omitting the final -imprecation. Their only course therefore was to emphasize what seems -indeed to have been always the authorised doctrine of the Church, that -excommunicated persons remained indeed incorrupt and ‘drum-like,’ but -were not, like _vrykolakes_, subject to diabolical re-animation. It is -Father Richard’s acceptance of this clerical view which explains why, -writing as he did some few years after Leo Allatius, he distinguished -the two words which Leo had treated as synonymous, making resuscitation -the criterion of the _vrykolakas_ and stating that the ‘drum-like’ -body, though withheld from natural decay, lay quiet in its grave. -But the ecclesiastical doctrine made no impression upon the popular -belief; to this very day the common-folk regard any corpse which is -found incorrupt as a potential _vrykolakas_, and excommunication is -everywhere numbered among the causes of vampirism. - -Thus it has come to pass that any _revenants_ other than the savage -_vrykolakes_ are well-nigh forgotten, and in most districts their very -name is no longer heard. The word _vrykolakes_, which first meant -were-wolves, came to denote also the vampires into which were-wolves -changed, and gradually, as these vampires by exciting men’s horror -and concentrating on themselves the people’s attention became the -predominant class of _revenants_, ousted from the very speech of -Greece as a whole the old Greek names for the more harmless sort, and -established itself as the regular equivalent of _revenant_. - -Such is my solution of the somewhat complex problem of nomenclature; -and in presenting it I have incidentally stated my view that the -genuinely Greek element in the modern superstition is a belief in -the incorruptibility and re-appearance of dead persons under certain -special conditions, and that the imported and now dominant element is -the Slavonic belief that the resuscitation of the dead renders them -necessarily predatory vampires. This I now have to prove. - -It is a well-established characteristic of the Slavonic vampire that -his violence is directed first and foremost against his nearest of kin. -The same trait is so pronounced too in the modern Greek _vrykolakas_ -that it has given rise to the proverb, ὁ βρυκόλακας ἀρχίζει ἀπὸ τὰ -γένειά του, ‘the _vrykolakas_ begins with his own beard’--a saying -which carries a double meaning, so a peasant told me. It may be taken -literally, inasmuch as the _vrykolakas_ usually appears bald and -beardless; but the words τὰ γένειά του, ‘his beard,’ are popularly -understood as a substitute, half jocose and half euphemistic, for τὴ -γενεά του, ‘his family.’ In other words, this most deadly of pagan -pests, like the most lively of Christian virtues, begins at home. - -Such being the acknowledged and even proverbial habits of the -_vrykolakas_, nothing, it might be supposed, could be more repugnant -and fearful to the near relations of a dead man than the possibility -that he would turn _vrykolakas_ and return straightway to devour -them. The first sufferers from such an eventuality would be the -man’s own kinsfolk, the next his acquaintances and fellow-villagers, -but he himself would appear to be aggressor rather than sufferer. -Nevertheless, in face of this consideration, there is no more -commodious form of curse in popular usage than the ejaculation of -a prayer that the person who has incurred one’s displeasure may be -withheld from corruption after death and return from his grave. I have -heard it extended even to a recalcitrant mule; but it is also used -gravely by parents as an imprecation of punishment hereafter upon -undutiful children. A few samples of this curse will not be out of -place, as showing at once its frequency and its range[1024]. - -Νὰ μήν τον δεχτῇ ἡ γῆς, ‘May the earth not receive him’: νὰ μήν -τον φάγῃ τὸ χῶμα, ‘May the ground not consume him’: ἡ γῆ νὰ μή σε -χωνέψῃ[1025], ‘May the earth not digest thee’: ἡ μαύρη γῆ νά σ’ -ἀναξεράσῃ[1026], ‘May the black earth spew thee up’: νὰ μείνῃς -ἄλυ̯ωτος, ‘Mayest thou remain incorrupt’: νὰ μή σε λυώσῃ ἡ γῆ, ‘May the -earth not loose thee’ (i.e. not let thy body decompose): νά σε βγάλῃ -τὸ χῶμα, ‘May the ground reject thee’: κουτοῦκι νὰ βγῇς[1027], ‘Mayest -thou become (after death) like a log (in solidity)’: τὸ χῶμα ’ξεράσ’ -τόνε, ‘May the ground spew him out’--this last phrase being made more -terrible by being a parody, as it were, of the prayer uttered by the -mourners at every Greek funeral ὁ θεὸς ’χωρέσ’ τόνε, ‘May God forgive -him.’ Such are the popular forms of the curse; and akin to them are the -ecclesiastical imprecations, with which the formula of excommunication -used to end: καὶ ἔσῃ μετὰ θάνατον ἄλυτος αἰωνίως, ὡς αἱ πέτραι καὶ τὰ -σίδηρα[1028], ‘And after death thou shalt be bound (i.e. incorrupt) -eternally, even as stone and iron’; or, in a shorter form, καὶ μετὰ -τὸν θάνατον ἄλυτος καὶ ἀπαράλυτος[1029], ‘And after death bound and -indissoluble.’ Here, it will be observed, the Church spoke only of -incorruptibility, but several of the popular expressions contain -explicit mention of resuscitation as well; and the very forms of the -curse which I have quoted show how closely knit together, how almost -identical, are these two notions in the mind of the peasants. That -which the earth will not ‘receive,’ she necessarily ‘rejects’; that -which she does not ‘consume’ or ‘digest,’ she necessarily ‘spews up.’ -The man whose body does not decompose is necessarily a _revenant_. - -Now curses, it must be remembered, among a primitive people are -considered as operative, and not merely expletive; each bullet of -malediction deliberately aimed is expected to find its billet; each -imprecation seriously uttered has a magical power of fulfilling itself. -That this belief is firmly held by the Greek folk is sufficiently -proved by certain quaint solemnities enacted beside the deathbed. It is -a common custom[1030] for a dying man to put a handful of salt into a -vessel of water, and when it is dissolved to sprinkle with the liquid -all those who are present, saying, ὡς λυ̯ώνει τ’ ἀλάτι, νὰ λυ̯ώσουν -ᾑ κατάραις μου, ‘As the salt dissolves, so may my curses dissolve.’ -By this ceremony all persons whom he has cursed are released from the -bonds of an imprecation which after death he would no longer be able -to revoke or annul. Then in turn the relations and friends formally -pronounce their forgiveness of aught that the dying man has done to -their hurt. Thus pardoning and pardoned the sick man may expect a short -and easy passing; and, if the death-struggle be prolonged, it is taken -as a sign that some one whom he has injured has not forgiven him. -Accordingly the friends and kinsmen, having decided among themselves -who the delinquent must be, send to fetch him, if he be still living, -in order that he too may pronounce his forgiveness and so smooth the -passage of the parting soul. If however he be dead, a portion of his -shroud or of his ashes is brought and burnt, and the sick man, who -needs his forgiveness ere he can die in peace, is fumigated with the -smoke therefrom. - -Since then curses in general are regarded by the Greek folk no less -than by other primitive peoples as effective instruments of wrath which -work out their own fulfilment, the particular curses which we are -considering, when they are gravely uttered, do seriously contemplate -the possibility of the person cursed becoming after death a _revenant_ -and are designed to bring about that future state. - -But, if already at the time when such imprecations first became popular -it had been believed that their effect was to render the corpse, whose -decay was arrested and whose resuscitation was assured, a wanton and -blood-thirsty monster, preying first of all upon his nearest of kin, -the question of relationship or no relationship between the curser and -the cursed would necessarily have been taken into account. - -On the one hand, where a man was in no degree akin to the object of his -wrath, he would have welcomed the opportunity of including his enemy’s -whole family in his vengeance by causing him to return and devour them. -For in Greece recrimination is wholly unsparing, and no man pretending -to any elegance or taste in the matter of abuse could neglect to -level his taunts and threats and curses at least as much against the -relatives--especially the female relatives--of his enemy as against -the man himself. Just as the tenderest blessings among the peasants -are prayers, not for him to whom they wish well, but rather for those -whom he has loved and lost, so that the beggar’s thanks are often ‘May -God forgive your father and your mother’ (which, however it may sound, -is not intended otherwise than graciously) or again, prettier still in -its vague genderless plural which no translation can adequately render, -ὁ θεὸς ’χωρέσ’ τὰ πεθαμμένα σου, ‘May God forgive your dead,’ so the -harshest and bitterest of curses are vented, not upon the man who has -excited them, but upon those who are nearest and dearest to him. And -bitterness in cursing being as much a part of the Greek character as -gentleness in blessing, it is almost inconceivable that, if any idea -of real vampirism had originally been associated with _revenants_, -the merest novice in malediction could have missed the opportunity -of adding to his imprecations of incorruptibility and resuscitation -a prayer that his enemy might devastate with horrid carnage the home -of those who mourned him. Yet not one of the curses which I have -quoted above suggests any savagery to be shown by the resuscitated -body; not one of them hints at the blood-thirsty predatory character -of the modern _vrykolakas_; nay, most significant of all, not one of -them contains the word _vrykolakas_, nor have I ever heard or found -recorded, so far as I can remember, any form of the curse in which that -word appears[1031]. Now this is certainly not due to any difficulty -of language in using the word, for there is a convenient enough verb -formed from it, βρυκολακιάζω, ‘I turn vampire,’ and νὰ βρυκολακιάσης, -‘May you turn vampire,’ should commend itself as both sonorous and -compendious. The reason why all mention and all thought of the ordinary -_vrykolakas_ are lacking in these curses must rather be that, when -they first came into vogue, _revenants_ were not yet credited with -the savage character which under Slavonic influence they afterwards -acquired; and that, when the word _vrykolakas_ was introduced, the -old traditional forms of curse underwent no modification, but were -bandied to and fro by boys with the same glib uniformity as by their -fathers before them. They had been cast in set forms before the idea of -vampirism had been introduced and when men believed only in reasonable -and usually harmless _revenants_. -On the other hand, where the curser was akin to the cursed, the nearer -the tie of blood the more incomprehensible would be the attitude of -one who by an imprecation should recall from the grave so malignant -a thing as the modern _vrykolakas_, only to fall himself perhaps the -first victim to its blood-thirstiness. If the phrase ‘May the earth -reject thee’ had suggested anything beyond simple resuscitation, -if there had been any resemblance in character between the Greek -_revenant_ and the Slavonic vampire, such an imprecation would have -been impossible where close kinship existed; it would at once recoil -with fatal force upon the curser’s own head; above all, that most -solemn curse, the curse of parent upon child, would have been the first -to ‘come home to roost’; and yet the use of such parental imprecations -is both celebrated in ballad and not unknown, I am told, in actual -experience. Once more then the use of these curses is explicable only -on the hypothesis that the original Greek _revenants_ were not the -formidable monsters now known as _vrykolakes_, and that, when under -Slavonic influence the popular conception of them changed, the old -set phrases of commination--coins, as it were, of speech, struck in -the mint of the original superstition--continued current in spite of -their inconsistency with the new ideas. These colloquial survivals of -the original Greek superstition are at once a proof and a measure of -its later contamination. The Greeks had believed in reasonable human -_revenants_; the Slavs taught them to believe in brutish inhuman -vampires. - -This conclusion is confirmed by the ballad to which I have just -referred; in it a mother’s imprecation recalls her son from the grave; -the _revenant_, who is the protagonist in a most dramatic story, is, as -will be seen, of the type which I claim to have been the original Greek -type and exhibits no Slavonic traits. - -The ballad[1032], which as an important document I translate at length, -runs as follows: - - Mother with children richly blest, nine sons and one dear daughter, - The darling of thy heart was she, and fondly did’st thou tend her; - For full twelve years thou guardedst her, and the sun looked not on her, - But in the dusk thou bathedst her, by moonlight trim’dst her tresses, - By evening-star and morning-star her curls in order settest. - And lo! a message brought to thee, from Babylon a message, - Bidding thee wed thy child afar, afar in a strange country; - Eight of her brethren will it not, but Constantine doth hearken: - --‘Nay, mother, send thine Areté, send her to that strange country, - That country whither I too fare, that land wherein I wander, - That I may find me comfort there, that I may find me lodging.’ - --‘Prudent art thou, my Constantine, yet ill-conceived thy counsel: - If there o’ertake me death, my son, if there o’ertake me sickness, - If there hap bitterness or joy, who shall go bring her to me?’ - He made the Saints his witnesses, he gave her God for surety, - If peradventure there come death, if haply there come sickness, - If there hap bitterness or joy, himself would go and bring her. - Now when they had sent Areté to wed in the strange country, - There came a year of heaviness, a month of God’s displeasure, - And there befell the Pestilence, that the nine brethren perished; - Lone as a willow in the plain, lone, desolate their mother. - Over eight graves she beats her breast, o’er eight makes lamentation, - But from the tomb of Constantine she tears the very grave-stones: - --‘Rise, I adjure thee, Constantine, ’tis Areté I long for; - Thou madest the Saints thy witnesses, thou gavest me God for surety, - If there hap bitterness or joy, thyself would’st go and bring her.’ - Forth from the mound that covered him the stern adjuring drave him; - He takes the clouds to be his steed, the stars to be his bridle, - The moon for escort on his road, and goes his way to bring her. - He leaves the mountains in his wake, he gains the heights before him, - He finds her ’neath the moonlight fair combing her golden tresses. - E’en from afar he bids her hail, cries from afar his message: - --‘Up, Aretoúla, up and come, for lo! our mother needs thee.’ - --‘Alack, alack, dear brother mine, what chance hath then befallen? - If haply ’tis an hour of joy, let me go don my jewels, - If bitterness, speak, I will come and tarry not for robing.’ - --‘Up, Aretoúla, up and come, and tarry not for robing.’ - Beside the way whereon they passed, beside the road they travelled, - They heard the singing of the birds, they heard the birds a-saying: - --‘Who hath e’er seen a maiden fair by a dead man escorted?’ - --‘Didst hear, my brother Constantine, what thing the birds are saying? - “Who hath e’er seen a maiden fair by a dead man escorted?”’ - --‘Nay, foolish birds, let them sing on, nor heed their idle chatter.’ - Anon as they went faring on, yet other birds were calling: - --‘What woeful sight is this we see, so piteous and so plaintive, - That lo! as comrades on their way, the dead escort the living?’ - --‘Didst hear, my brother Constantine, what thing the birds are saying? - “That lo! as comrades on their way, the dead escort the living.”’ - --‘Nay, what are birds? let them sing on, nor heed their idle chatter.’ - --‘Ah, but I fear thee, brother mine, thou savourest of censing.’ - --‘Nay, at the chapel of Saint John we gathered yester even, - And the good father hallowed us with incense beyond measure.’ - And yet again as they fared on, yet other birds were crying: - --‘O God, great God omnipotent, great wonders art thou working; - So gracious and so fair a maid with a dead man consorting!’ - --‘Didst hear, my brother Constantine, what thing the birds are saying? - Tell me, where are those locks of thine, thy trimly-set mustachio?’ - --’Twas a sore sickness fell on me, nigh unto death it brought me, - And spoiled me of my golden locks, my trimly-set mustachio.’ - Lo! they are come; but locked their home, the door fast barred and bolted, - And all the windows of their home in spider-webs enshrouded. - --‘Op’n, prithee, open, mother mine, ’tis Areté thy daughter.’ - --‘An thou art Charon, go thy way, for I have no more children; - My one, my little Areté, bides far in the strange country.’ - --‘Op’n, prithee, open, mother mine, ’tis Constantine that calls thee; - I made the Saints my witnesses, I gave thee God for surety, - If there hap bitterness or joy, myself would go and bring her.’ - Scarce had she passed to ope the door, and lo! her soul passed from her. - -The versions of this ballad which have been collected are very -numerous[1033], and some of them differ so widely from others in -language as not to have a single line in common. That which I have -selected for translation is one of the most complete, presenting fairly -all the essential points of the story, and free from the eccentricities -which some versions have developed. At the same time it must be allowed -that here the mother’s curse is only implied by her action of tearing -up the gravestones and adjuring Constantine to rise, whereas in one or -two versions, otherwise inferior, it is clearly and forcibly expressed. - -Thus in one[1034] her words run: - - πέτρα νὰ γίνῃ ὁ Κωσταντής, λιθάρι νὰ μὴ λει̯ώσῃ, - πώστειλε τὴν Ἀρέτω μου, τὴν Ἀρετὼ ’στὰ ξένα. - - ‘May Constantine become as rock, yea even as stone, and have no - loosing (i.e. dissolution), for that he sent my Areto to a strange - land.’ - -And in another[1035]: - - Ὅλοι μου οἱ γυιοὶ νὰ λυώσουνε κῂ ὁ Κώστας νὰ μὴ λυώσῃ, - Ὅπ’ ἔδωκε τὴν Ἀρετὴ πολὺ μακρυὰ ’στὰ ξένα. - - ‘May all my other sons have “loosing” and Constantine be not “loosed,” - for that he let my Areté be taken afar to a strange country.’ - -Again, another version[1036] ends, not with the arrival of Areté in -time to close her dying mother’s eyes, but with the revoking of the -curse upon Constantine in gratitude for the fulfilment of his oath: - - ‘νὰ σὲ λυώσῃ τὸ χῶμα σου καὶ νὰ σὲ φάγ’ ἡ πλάκα σ’.’ - ὅσο νὰ σώσ’ τὸ λόγο της χοῦφτα χῶμα γενότον. - - ‘May the earth where thou liest loose thee and thy tomb consume thee.’ - Scarce had she finished her speech and he became but a handful of - earth. - -Clearly then the curse, which in this story is conceived as binding -Constantine’s body and driving him forth from the grave and which must -be revoked before his body can be loosed by natural decay, is one of -that class which we have been considering; but the story confers -the further advantage of letting us see such a curse in operation. -Constantine is presented as a revenant, but not of the modern type; -for what turn must the story have taken if he had been a normal -_vrykolakas_? His first act would have been to devour his nearest of -kin--his mother, who was tearing up his grave-stones and cursing him: -and his next, if he had troubled to go as far as Babylon, to make a -like end of Areté. And what do we actually find? Constantine acts not -only as a reasonable man in seeking to allay his sister’s suspicions, -but also as a good man in keeping his oath. He is driven forth from the -grave on a quest which (in most versions of the story) earns him no -thanks from those whom he benefits; he does his weary mission and (in -most versions) goes back again to the cold grave from which the curse -had raised him. Our sympathy is engaged by Constantine no less than by -his mother. He too is a sufferer, first stricken down in his youth by -pestilence, and then cursed because his oath remained unfulfilled. He -claims our pity, and in this differs fundamentally from the ordinary -_vrykolakas_ which could only excite our horror. - -Furthermore it is noteworthy that in the many versions of this -poem, just as in the popular curses which I have quoted, the word -_vrykolakas_ is nowhere found[1037]. - -Hence I am inclined to believe that the original poem, from which -have come so many modern versions, differing widely in many respects, -but agreeing completely in the exclusion both of the Slavonic word -_vrykolakas_ and of all the suggestions of horror which surround it, -was composed in a period anterior to the intrusion of Slavonic ideas; -and that the modern versions therefore, which prove their fidelity -to the spirit of the original precisely by having refused admittance -to anything Slavonic, furnish that which we are seeking, the purely -and genuinely Greek element in the now composite superstition. That -Greek element then is the conception of the _revenant_ as a sufferer -deserving even of pity, the very antithesis in character of the -Slavonic vampire, an aggressor exciting only loathing and horror. - -In the composite modern Greek superstition, as described in the -last chapter, the Slavonic element is clearly predominant. But the -conclusion to which my analysis of the superstition has now led, -explains what would otherwise have been almost inexplicable, the -existence of a few stories in which the _revenant_, though called -_vrykolakas_, is none the less represented as harmless or even amiable. - -One such case is mentioned in Father Richard’s narrative[1038]--the -case of a shoemaker in Santorini, who having turned _vrykolakas_ -continued to frequent his house, mend his children’s shoes, draw water -at the reservoir, and cut wood for the use of his family; and though -it is added that the people became frightened and exhumed and burned -him, this was only a measure of precaution dictated by their experience -of other _vrykolakes_; no charge was brought against this particular -_revenant_. It might also be supposed that the _vrykolakes_ of Amorgos, -mentioned next in the same narrative, who were seen in open day five or -six together in a field feeding apparently on green beans, were of the -less noxious kind; but they may of course have been carnivorous also. - -Another story, recently published[1039], records how a native of Maina, -also a shoemaker by trade, having turned _vrykolakas_ issued from his -grave every night except Saturday, resumed his work, and continued to -live with his wife, whose pregnancy forced her to reveal the truth -to her neighbours. When once this was known, many accusations, it is -true, were brought against the _vrykolakas_; but the story at least -recognises some domestic and human traits in his character. - -But a much more remarkable tale[1040] is told of a field-labourer of -Samos who was so devoted to the farmer for whom he worked, that when -he died he became a _vrykolakas_ and continued secretly to give his -services. At night he would go to the farm-buildings, take out the oxen -from their stall, yoke them, and plough three acres while his master -slept; in the daytime an equal piece of work was done by the master--so -that incidentally the oxen were nearly killed. The neighbours however -having had their suspicions aroused by the rapidity of the work, which -the farmer himself could in no wise explain, kept watch one night, and -having detected the _vrykolakas_ opened his grave, found him, as would -be expected, whole and incorrupt, and burned him. - -Such stories as these testify that the old and purely Greek conception -of _revenants_ is not quite extinct even in places where the only name -for them is the Slavonic word _vrykolakes_. - - * * * * * - -The Slavonic element in the modern superstition having been now -removed, it remains to consider what was the attitude of the Church -towards the Greek belief in _revenants_ and what effect her teaching -had upon it. - -I have already pointed out that the Jesuit, Father Richard, -discriminated between _vrykolakes_ and certain bodies called ‘drums,’ -which were found incorrupt after many years of burial. This distinction -he had no doubt learnt from clergy of the Greek Church; for, while the -common-folk held that those whom the earth did not receive and consume -were necessarily ejected by her, or, in other words, that a dead man -whose body did not decay was necessarily also a _revenant_, the Church -distinguished, as we shall see, between belief in incorruptibility and -belief in resuscitation, inculcating the former, and varying between -condonation and condemnation of the latter. These two ideas must -therefore be handled separately. - -The incorruptibility of the body of any person bound by a curse was -made a definite doctrine of the Orthodox Church. In an ecclesiastical -manuscript, seen by Father Richard, were specifications of the -discoloration and other unpleasant symptoms by which the precise -quality of that curse--parental, episcopal, and so forth--which had -arrested the decay of a corpse might be diagnosed; and in one of the -forms of absolution which may be read over any corpse found in such -a condition there is a clause which provides for all possible cases -without requiring expert diagnosis: ‘Yea, O Lord our God, let Thy great -mercy and marvellous compassion prevail; and, whether this Thy servant -lieth under curse of father or mother, or under his own imprecation, -or did provoke one of Thy holy ministers and sustained at his hands -a bond that hath not been loosed, or did incur the most grievous ban -of excommunication by a bishop, and through heedlessness and sloth -obtained not pardon, pardon Thou him by the hand of me Thy sinful and -unworthy servant; resolve Thou his body into that from which it was -made; and stablish his soul in the tabernacle of saints[1041].’ But the -curse to which the Church naturally gave most prominence and attached -most weight was the ban of excommunication; and therefore, consistently -with the accepted doctrine, the formula of excommunication ended by -sentencing the offender to remain whole and undissolved after death--a -condition from which the body was not freed unless and until absolution -was read over it and the decree of excommunication thereby rescinded. - -This doctrine was held to have the authority of Christ’s own -teaching[1042]. The power which was conferred upon the apostles in -the words, ‘Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound in -heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in -heaven[1043],’ was believed to have been so transmitted to their -successors, the bishops[1044] of the Church, that they too had the -faculty of binding and loosing men’s bodies--that is, of arresting -or promoting their decomposition after death. Such an interpretation -of the text was facilitated by the very simplicity of its wording; -for λύω, in modern Greek λυόνω, ‘loose,’ expresses equally well the -ideas of dissolution and of absolution, while δέω, in modern Greek -δένω, ‘bind,’ embraces their respective opposites. A _nomocanon de -excommunicatis_[1045], promulgated in explanation of the fact that -excommunication sometimes failed to produce its expected result, -presents clearly the authorised doctrine and at the same time -illustrates effectively the twofold usage of the words ‘loosing’ and -‘binding.’ - -‘Concerning excommunicated persons, the which suffer excommunication by -their bishops and after death are found with their bodies “not loosed” -(ἄλυτα). - -‘Certain persons have been justly, reasonably, and lawfully -excommunicated by their bishops, as transgressors of the divine law, -and have died in the state of excommunication without amending their -ways and receiving forgiveness, and have been buried, and in a short -time their bodies have been found “loosed” (λελυμένα) and sundered bone -from bone.... - -‘Now this is exceeding marvellous that he who hath been lawfully -excommunicated should after his death be found with his body “loosed” -(λελυμένος τὸ σῶμα) and the joints thereof sundered....’ - -This ‘exceeding marvellous’ occurrence was therefore submitted to the -consideration of learned divines, whose verdict was to the effect that -any excommunicated person whose body did not remain whole had no more -hope of salvation, because he was no longer in a state to be ‘loosed’ -and forgiven by the bishop who had excommunicated him[1046], but had -become already ‘an inheritor of everlasting torment.’ - -‘But,’ continues the _nomocanon_ formulated by these theologians, -‘they that are found excommunicate, to wit, with their bodies whole -and “not loosed” (ἄλυτα), these stand in need of forgiveness, in order -that the body may attain unto freedom from the “bond” (δεσμόν) of -excommunication. For even as the body is found “bound” (δεδεμένον) -in the earth, so is the soul “bound” (δεδεμένη) and tormented in the -hands of the Devil. And whensoever the body receive forgiveness and be -“loosed” (λυθῇ) from excommunication, by power of God the soul likewise -is freed from the hands of the Devil, and receiveth the life eternal, -the light that hath no evening, and the joy ineffable.’ - -The whole doctrine of the physical results both of excommunication -and of absolution appeared to Leo Allatius to be indisputable, and -he mentions[1047] several notable cases in which the truth of it -was demonstrated. Athanasius, Metropolitan of Imbros, is quoted -as recording how at the request of citizens of Thasos he read the -absolution over several incorrupt bodies, ‘and before the absolution -was even finished all the corpses were dissolved into dust.’ A similar -case was that of a converted Turk who was subsequently excommunicated -at Naples, and had been dead some years before he obtained absolution -and dissolution at the hands of two Metropolitans. More remarkable -still was a case in which a priest, who had pronounced a sentence of -excommunication, afterwards turned Mohammedan, while the victim of his -curse, though he had died in the Christian faith, remained ‘bound.’ The -matter was reported to the Patriarch Raphael, and at his instance the -Turk, though after much demur, read the absolution over the Christian’s -body, and towards the end of the reading, ‘the swelling of the body -went down, and it turned completely to dust.’ The Turk thereupon -embraced Christianity once more, and was put to death for doing so. - -Most graphic of all is a story attributed to one Malaxus[1048]. The -Sultan having been informed--among other evidences of the power of -Christianity--that the bodies of the excommunicated never obtained -dissolution till absolution was read over them, bade seek out such -an one and absolve him. The Patriarch of the time accordingly made -enquiries, which resulted in his hearing of a priest’s widow who had -been excommunicated by a predecessor, the Patriarch Gennadius. Her -story was that having been rebuked by him for prostitution she publicly -charged him with an attempt to seduce her. Gennadius had answered -the charge by praying aloud one Sunday in the presence of all the -clergy, that, if her accusation were true, God would pardon her all -her sins and give her happiness hereafter and let her body, when she -died, dissolve; but, if the charge were slander and calumny against -himself, then by the will and judgement of Almighty God he exercised -his power of severing her from the communion of the faithful, to remain -unpardoned and incorruptible. Forty days afterwards she had died of -dysentery and having been buried remained incorrupt. - -Exhumed at the Sultan’s instance the body was found to be still sound -and whole, of a dark colour and with the skin stretched like the -parchment of a drum. It was then removed and kept for a certain time -under the Sultan’s seal, until the Patriarch decided to absolve it. As -he read the absolution the crackling of the body as it broke up could -be heard from within the coffin. It was then again kept for a few -days under the Sultan’s seal, and when finally the coffin was opened -the body was found ‘dissolved and decomposed, having at last obtained -mercy.’ And the Sultan was so impressed by the miracle that he is -recorded to have exclaimed, ‘Certainly the Christian religion is true -beyond all question.’ - -Suchlike stories, together with the formula of excommunication and -the _nomocanon_ above quoted, prove conclusively that the Church did -not merely acquiesce in one part of the popular superstition but -authoritatively sanctioned it and utilised it for her own ends. The -incorruptibility of the dead body under certain conditions was made an -article of faith and an instrument of terrorism, which, as will appear -later[1049], the ill-educated peasant-priests did not scruple to wield -widely as an incentive to baptism, a deterrent from apostasy, and a -challenge to repentance. - -The name by which ecclesiastical writers designated a person -whose body was thus ‘bound’ by excommunication, was one which has -already been explained, τυμπανιαῖος[1050] or, in another form, -τυμπανίτης[1051]--swollen until the skin is as tight as a drum. This -word, which now survives, so far as I know, only in one island, and in -the seventeenth century, to judge by Leo Allatius’ reference to it, -was certainly less common than the word _vrykolakas_, had probably at -one time, before Slavonic influence was felt, belonged to the popular -as well as to the ecclesiastical vocabulary; and it was, I suspect, -borrowed by the Church from popular speech at the same time as she -borrowed from popular superstition the idea of dead bodies being -‘bound’ and withheld from corruption by a curse. - -At what date this appropriation took place I cannot determine; but -it must certainly have been before Slavonic influence was widely -felt; for, when once the Greek _revenant_ had acquired the baneful -characteristics of the Slavonic vampire, the clergy would surely -never have claimed as a new thing the power to ‘bind’ the dead by -excommunication, when the laity (and indeed many of their own calling -too) believed that persons so ‘bound’ became rampant and ravening -_vrykolakes_. The belief must therefore have been incorporated in -ecclesiastical doctrine at a time when the Greek people spoke of the -incorrupt dead as τυμπανιαῖοι, ‘drumlike,’ and conceived of them as -reasonable _revenants_. - -The process by which the belief came to obtain the sanction of the -Church is not hard to guess. The ambiguity of the words λύω, ‘loose,’ -and δέω, ‘bind,’ may well have been the starting-point. If, on the -one hand, the apostles, or the bishops who succeeded them, treated -certain sins as ‘having no forgiveness neither in this world nor the -world to come,’ and in the exercise of their power to bind and to loose -included in their formula of excommunication some such phrase as Leo -Allatius records, καὶ μετὰ τὸν θάνατον ἄλυτος καὶ ἀπαράλυτος, ‘and -after death never to be “loosed”’ (meaning thereby ‘absolved’); while, -on the other hand, the Greek people were hereditarily familiar with -a pagan belief that the dead bodies of persons who lay under a curse -were not ‘loosed’ (in the sense of ‘dissolved’); then the common-folk -for their part would necessarily have understood the ecclesiastical -curse as a sentence of ‘non-dissolution’; while the clergy would have -been less than Greek if they had not seen, and more than Greek if they -had not seized, the handle which popular superstition gave them, and -by adding to their accustomed formula (μετὰ τὸν θάνατον ἄλυτος, ‘after -death never to be “loosed”’) such apparently innocent words as ὥσπερ αἱ -πέτραι καὶ τὰ σίδηρα[1052], ‘even as stone and iron,’ substituted the -idea of ‘dissolution’ for that of ‘absolution’ and definitely committed -the Church to the old pagan doctrine. - -If this conjecture as to the process by which the popular belief became -an article of the Orthodox faith be correct, a further suggestion -may be made as to the date at which the process began. If the word -‘loosing’ was misunderstood by the Greeks when used in the formula -of excommunication, it would equally have been misunderstood in the -words of Christ, ‘Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth, shall be bound -in heaven; and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth, shall be loosed in -heaven[1053].’ Was it then the knowledge that these words were commonly -misinterpreted by the Greeks which led the author of the fourth Gospel -to reproduce them in a less equivocal form: “Whosesoever sins ye remit, -they are remitted unto them; and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are -retained[1054]”? This would indicate an early date indeed. Yet the date -matters little as compared with the main fact that the ecclesiastical -doctrine of the incorruptibility of excommunicated persons was at some -time borrowed from paganism. - -The other half of the popular superstition, namely that those whose -bodies were ‘bound’ by excommunication or otherwise, and whom the earth -did not ‘receive,’ were ejected by her and re-appeared as _revenants_, -caused the Church some embarrassment. Sometimes the alleged -resuscitation of such persons was condemned as a mere hallucination of -timorous and superstitious minds; at other times it was accepted as a -fact and explained as a work of the Devil designed to lead men astray, -and acting upon this idea the clergy often lent their services to -absolve and to dissolve the suspected corpse. - -Leo Allatius[1055] reflects both these views and shows their effect -upon the conduct of the clergy. After describing the actual appearance -of such bodies, which gained for them the name τυμπανιαῖοι, ‘drumlike,’ -he introduces the second half of the superstition by saying that into -such bodies the devil enters, and issuing from the tomb goes about -working all manner of destruction; and he adds that when the body is -exhumed, ‘the priests recite prayers, and the body is thrown on a -burning pyre; before the supplications are finished, the joints of the -body gradually fall apart, and all the remains are burnt to ashes.’ Yet -shortly afterwards he states, ‘This belief is not of fresh and recent -growth in Greece; in ancient and modern times alike men of piety who -have received the confessions of Christians have tried to root it out -of the popular mind.’ There is a clear contrast between the conduct -of ‘the priests’ in one passage and that of the ‘men of piety’ in the -other. The clergy did not as a body adopt a single and consistent -attitude towards the popular superstition. - -Similar inconsistency marks the _nomocanon_ concerning _vrykolakes_, -from which I have given selections along with the rest of Leo’s account -in the last section; these passages, for convenience of reference, are -here repeated: - -‘Concerning a dead man, if such be found whole and incorrupt, the which -they call _vrykolakas_... - -‘It is impossible that a dead man become a _vrykolakas_ save it be -that the Devil, wishing to delude some that they may do things unmeet -and incur the wrath of God, maketh these portents and oft-times at -night _causeth men to imagine_ that the dead man whom they knew before -cometh and speaketh with them, and in their dreams too they see -visions. Other times they see him in the road, walking or standing -still, and, more than this, he even throttles men. - -‘Then there is a commotion and they run to the grave and dig to see the -remains of the man ... and the dead man--one who has long been dead and -buried--_appears to them_ to have flesh and blood and nails and hair -... and they collect wood and set fire to it and burn the body and do -away with it altogether....’ - -Then, after denying again the reality of such things which exist κατὰ -φαντασίαν, _in imagination only_, the _nomocanon_ continues: - -‘But know that _when such remains be found_, the which, as we have -said, is a work of the Devil, ye must summon the priests to chant an -invocation of the Mother of God, ... and _to perform memorial services -for the dead_ with funeral meats.’ - -The self-contradiction of the pronouncement is exposed in the phrases -which I have italicised. Clearly if such remains are found and the -dead man is so affected by the work of the Devil that special services -for his repose[1056] are required, the theory of hallucination is -untenable. But this very inconsistency of the _nomocanon_, though -according to Allatius it is of uncertain authorship, proves it, as -I will show, a very valuable document of the Church’s traditional -teaching on this matter. - -S. Anastasius Sinaita, who became bishop of Antioch in 561 and died -in 599, refers to _revenants_ in a passage which, literally rendered, -runs as follows[1057]: ‘Again it appears that devils, by means of false -prophets who obey them and with their aid work signs and heal bodily -diseases to the delusion of themselves and others, present even a -dead man as risen again, and (in his person) talk with the living, in -imagination (ἐν φαντασίᾳ). For a devil enters into the dead body of the -man, and moves it, presenting the dead man risen again as it were in -answer to the foolish prayer of the deceiver. And the evil spirit talks -as it were in the person of the dead man with him whom he is deluding, -telling him such things as he himself wishes to tell and answering also -further questions....’ - -In this passage Anastasius is clearly thinking of _revenants_ called -up by sorcerers; in his time, when the first Slavonic invaders had -only just entered Greece and anything like friendly intercourse -between the two races was still a thing of the future, the conception -of a real vampire was not yet known to the Greeks of Greece proper, -much less to those of Antioch; and it is easy therefore to believe -that the calling up of harmless _revenants_ was then a recognised -department of witchcraft, which afterwards lost its attractions. The -particular circumstances however to which Anastasius refers are of -minor importance; the interest of the passage lies in its inconsistency -of thought, which results indeed in a certain confusion of language; -for to say that ‘it appears that devils ... present even a dead man as -risen again, and talk with the living in imagination,’ would be not a -little obscure, if the context did not throw light upon the meaning. -More lucidly expressed the ideas are these: men see a dead person -apparently risen from his grave and able to talk with them; the raising -of the dead is the work of a devil (whose _modus operandi_ is described -in the second sentence); the talking is also done by the devil (as -explained in the third sentence); and finally the whole thing is an -hallucination. - -Here then are the same contradictory doctrines as in the _nomocanon_; -the resuscitation of the dead man is the work of a devil who enters -into the corpse and moves it and raises it from the grave; and yet it -is the ‘imagination’ of the men who see it which is at fault. But it -can be no casual coincidence that S. Anastasius in the sixth century -and a _nomocanon_ which was quoted as authoritative in the seventeenth -attempted to combine two incompatible doctrines concerning the -re-appearance of the dead. Rather is it proof that from a very early -age the Church remained halting between two opinions; and the attitude -adopted towards the superstition by the clergy, some of whom, according -to Leo Allatius, had long tried to root it out of the popular mind, -while others rendered aid in absolving suspected corpses, naturally -varied according as they personally believed that _revenants_ -(including _vrykolakes_) were a figment of the people’s imagination or -a real work of the Devil. - -Now of these two ecclesiastical views, which are really alternative -and incompatible although attempts were made to combine them, the -former has clearly had little or no effect upon the people; in spite -of the efforts of the ‘men of piety who received the confessions -of Christians[1058]’ to extirpate the superstition, it remains -vigorous, as we have seen, down to this day. But the explanation of -the phenomenon as a work of the Devil was readily entertained; even -educated men were convinced of it. ‘It is the height of folly,’ says -Leo Allatius, speaking for himself, ‘to deny altogether that such -bodies are sometimes found incorrupt in the graves, and that by use of -them the Devil, if God permit him, devises horrible plans to the hurt -of the human race’; and similarly Father Richard opens his account of -_vrykolakes_ with the statement that the Devil sometimes works by means -of dead bodies which he preserves in their entirety and re-animates. -As for the common-folk, the explanation accorded so well with the -diabolical characteristics of the _vrykolakas_ that they could hardly -have failed to accept it. - -The popularisation of this view is well illustrated by a local -interpretation set upon a custom which I have already discussed, the -so-called custom of ‘Charon’s obol.’ I have shown that the practice -of placing a coin or other object in the mouth of the dead continues -down to the present day; that the classical notion, that the coin was -intended as payment for the ferryman of the Styx, was only a temporary -and probably local misinterpretation of the custom; and that the coin -or other object employed was really a charm designed to prevent any -evil spirit from entering (or possibly the soul from re-entering) the -dead body. Now in Chios and in Rhodes this original intention has not -been forgotten, and is combined with the belief in _vrykolakes_. In -the former island the woman who prepares the corpse for burial places -on its lips a cross of wax or cotton-stuff, and the priest also during -the funeral service prepares a fragment of pottery to be laid in the -same place by marking on it the sign of the cross and the letters I. -X. N. K. (Ἰησοῦς Χριστὸς νικᾷ, ‘Jesus Christ conquers’), both of them -with the avowed purpose of preventing any evil spirit from entering -the dead body and making of it a _vrykolakas_[1059]. In Rhodes a piece -of ancient pottery, inscribed with the same words but marked with the -pentacle[1060] instead of the cross, is placed in the mouth of the -dead for the same purpose[1061]. Clearly then in these two islands -this ecclesiastical view has been fully accepted by the people; and -what I can illustrate by customs in these cases I know to be equally -true of Greece in general. Whenever an explanation is sought of the -resuscitation of the dead, the answer, if any be forthcoming, lays the -responsibility for it on the Devil. - -This opinion, as I have said, is abundantly justified by the conduct -of modern _vrykolakes_; but I am inclined to think that it was -held also, by the Church at any rate, in the pre-Slavonic age when -_revenants_ were of a less diabolical character. The actual practice of -excommunication was thought to have been instituted by St Paul[1062], -who twice speaks of ‘delivering persons unto Satan[1063].’ The early -ecclesiastical interpretation of this phrase is clearly given by -Theodoretus[1064]; commenting upon the sentence, “To deliver such an -one unto Satan for the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may -be saved in the day of the Lord Jesus,” he draws special attention -to the fact that the body, and not the soul, is to be subjected to -diabolic affliction, and then adds, ‘We are taught by this, that those -who are excommunicated, that is to say, severed from the body of the -Church, will be assailed by the devil when he finds them void of -grace.’ In other words, the bodily punishment inflicted by the act of -excommunication was ‘possession’ by the devil. - -Now Theodoretus, it is true, says nothing in this passage as to the -continuance of the punishment after death. But clearly if demoniacal -possession was the effect of excommunication, and if also, as we have -seen, the sentence of excommunication remained valid after death, it -must have followed that the dead body no less than the living body was -possessed of the devil; and if the devil in possession of the corpse -chose to agitate it and drive it out of the grave, the dead demoniac -was at once a _revenant_. - -There is therefore some probability that, though the Church never -threatened the excommunicated with resuscitation but only with -incorruptibility, she may at a very early date have offered this -explanation of their alleged re-appearance; and the theory of -diabolical agency may have gained popular approval from the first; for -resuscitation was originally viewed by the Greek people as a calamity -befalling the dead man, not as a source of danger to the living; -and therefore an ecclesiastical doctrine, that it was by delivering -an offender unto Satan that the curse of the Church rendered him a -_revenant_, would have been felt to be a perfectly satisfactory, if -novel, explanation of the process by which a known cause, imprecation, -produced its known effect, resuscitation. - -But, whatever the date at which the theory of diabolical possession -was first developed and disseminated, the Church, and the Church only, -was responsible for it. The Devil is a Christian conception, just as -the vampire is Slavonic. Both must go, if the modern superstition is -to be stripped of its accretions, and the genuinely Hellenic elements -discovered. What then remains? Simply the belief that the bodies of -certain classes of persons did not decay away in their graves but -returned therefrom, and the feeling that such persons were sufferers -deserving of pity. What then were the classes of persons so affected, -according to the original Greek superstition? - -The classes now regarded as liable to become _vrykolakes_ were -enumerated at the end of the last section. But both Slavonic and -Christian influences have been felt here, as in the rest of the -superstition. I must therefore take those classes one by one, and -indicate the origin of each. None of them will require long discussion; -their _provenance_ is in many cases self-evident. - -(1) Those who have not received the full and due rites of burial. - -Here there can be no reason for supposing any alien influence; on -the contrary, the high importance attached by the ancient Greeks to -funeral-rites is everywhere apparent. It was these which Patroclus’ -spirit returned to implore; these which Antigone risked her life to -give. The sin of Clytemnestra culminated in that she ‘dared to bury -her husband without mourning or lamentation[1065]’--an essential part -of the Greek funeral; and again in historical times Lysander’s honour -was tarnished not so much because he put to death some prisoners -of war, but because ‘he did not throw earth even upon their dead -bodies[1066].’ What effect such neglect was anciently believed to have -upon the dead is a question to be considered later; but the general -idea is plainly Hellenic. - -(2) Those who meet with any sudden or violent death (including -suicides), or, in Maina, where the vendetta is still in vogue, those -who having been murdered remain unavenged. - -The most important element in this class is formed by those who -have been murdered, especially when, as in Maina, they are believed -to return from the grave with the purpose of seeking revenge upon -their murderers. Such an idea, as will be shown later, is thoroughly -consonant with ancient views of bloodguilt. But it appears also from -a passage of Lucian[1067] that any ‘violent’ or ‘sudden,’ as opposed -to ‘natural,’ death was commonly held to debar the victim from rest no -less effectually than actual murder. The whole class may therefore be -accepted as Hellenic, and may probably be considered to have always -comprised all persons whose lives were cut short suddenly before their -proper hour had come. - -(3) Children conceived or born on one of the great Church-festivals, -and children still-born. - -The first division of this class may be variously explained; either -the child may be supposed to suffer for the sin committed by its -parents on a day when the Church enjoins continence, or else the -notion, that children born between Christmas and Epiphany are subject -to lycanthropy[1068] and therefore also, according to Slavonic views, -to vampirism, has become associated with other church-festivals -also. Children still-born are probably to be numbered among victims -of ‘sudden’ death. Thus the first division, being of ecclesiastical -or Slavonic origin, is to be set aside; the second may probably be -included in a larger Hellenic class already considered; neither -therefore requires any further discussion. - -(4) Those who die under a curse, especially the curse of a parent, -or one self-invoked, as in the case of a man who in perjuring himself -calls down on his own head all manner of damnation if what he says be -false. - -The dread which a curse, above all a parent’s curse, excited in the -ancient Greeks is well known. No one can have read Aeschylus’ story -of the house of Atreus, nor followed with Sophocles the fortunes of -Oedipus and his children, without perceiving therein the working of a -curse that claims fulfilment and cannot be averted. The idea therefore -here involved is purely Hellenic. - -(5) Those who die under the ban of the Church, that is to say, -excommunicate. - -This class is an ecclesiastical variety of the last. - -(6) Those who die unbaptised or apostate. - -The apostate is of course _ipso facto_ excommunicate, even though no -formal sentence have been pronounced against him. The unbaptised have -probably been included by priestcraft for purposes of intimidation; -baptism is commonly held to prevent children from becoming were-wolves, -and therefore also _vrykolakes_ at death. - -(7) Men of evil and immoral life in general, more particularly if they -have dealt in the blacker kinds of sorcery. - -Clerical influence is clearly discernible here, but is not, I think, -responsible for the whole idea. A story from Zacynthos[1069] records -how the treacherous murderer of a good man was first smitten by a -thunderbolt so that he lost both his sight and his reason, and after -his death was turned by God into a _vrykolakas_ as a punishment for -his crime, and has so remained for a thousand years. Here, in spite of -the word _vrykolakas_ being used, the _revenant_ is represented, like -Constantine in the popular ballad, as a sufferer. This idea has been -shown to be pre-Slavonic--and incidentally it is not a little curious -that the story itself claims to date from a thousand years ago, when -this idea was only beginning to be ousted by Slavonic superstition. But -if the idea of ‘punishment’ is old, the idea that the punishment was -merited by a crime must be equally old. For this reason, and for others -which will be developed later, I hold that the perpetrators of certain -deadly sins were from early times regarded as accursed and subject to -the same punishment as befell those on whom a curse had actually been -called down. The Church, I think, merely added to the number of those -sins, and at the same time undertook the task of pronouncing in many -cases the curse which they had earned. - -(8) Those who have eaten the flesh of a sheep which was killed by a -wolf. - -This class is purely Slavonic in origin. To become a were-wolf in -consequence of having eaten flesh which a wolf’s fangs have infected -with madness is to a simple mind rational enough; and a were-wolf -becomes after death a vampire. Further the belief, so far as I know, -belongs only to Elis, one of the districts where Slavonic ascendancy -was most complete and continued longest. - -(9) Those over whose dead bodies a cat or other animal has passed. - -This class also is Slavonic. The jumping of a cat over a dead -body is still believed by some Slavonic peoples to be a cause of -vampirism[1070], while in Greece the idea is rare and local only. - -Thus out of the many conditions by which, in modern belief, a man is -predisposed to turn _vrykolakas_, only three can be genuinely Hellenic: -first, lack of burial; second, a sudden or violent death; and third, -a parental or other curse, or such sin as renders a man accursed. The -_revenant_ therefore was regarded, as we inferred also from the story -of Constantine and Areté, as a sufferer. His suffering might be the -result of pure mischance, as in the case of sudden death, or of neglect -on the part of those whose duty it was to lament and to bury him, or -again of some sin of his own which had merited a curse. But whether he -was the victim of sheer misfortune or of punishment, he was still a -sufferer, an object to excite the pity of mankind in general, although -in special cases, as when he had been murdered or had not received the -last offices of love at the hands of his kinsfolk, he might reasonably -be feared by those who had injured him as an avenger. - -Since then in the pre-Slavonic period the general feeling towards -_revenants_ was a feeling of pity, the treatment of them in that period -requires investigation. - -Starting once more from the modern superstition, we find that the -treatment of _vrykolakes_ by the Greeks differs widely from that -accorded by the Slavs to vampires. The Slavonic method is generally to -pierce the suspected corpse with a stake of aspen or whitethorn, taking -care to drive it right through the heart at one blow. The usual Greek -method is to burn the body. The Greeks therefore, who learnt from the -Slavs all that is most horrible in their conception of _vrykolakes_, -none the less thought that they knew a better way of disposing of -these new-found pests than that which was practised by their teachers. -Convinced by foreign influence of the danger, they relied on a native -method of obviating it. They would not impale the _vrykolakas_; they -would burn him. Clearly there must have been some strong conviction -and assurance in the heart of a people who, freshly persuaded of the -peril threatening them at the hands of so loathly and savage a monster, -yet chose to pursue their own method of combating it rather than to -adopt the foreign and repugnant practice of impaling the dead. That -conviction plainly was that cremation, by ensuring the immediate and -complete dissolution of the body, put an end to all relations of the -dead with the living; and their confidence in it can only have been -based upon their own experience in the treatment of the Greek species -of _revenants_. Cremation then was the means by which the Greek folk -had always been wont to succour those of the dead who suffered from -incorruptibility and resuscitation. - -Such a custom would not, so far as I can judge, have encountered any -serious ecclesiastical opposition. The Church, it is true, in her -earlier days had condemned cremation as a pagan rite, and with the -spread of Christianity inhumation became the ordinary rite. But in the -case of those who, having been buried, yet returned from the grave, -since the Christian rite had proved of no avail, some concession to -pagan traditions would have been natural. Many of the clergy, as we -have seen, condoned cremation in the case of _vrykolakes_ as a measure -of self-defence; surely they would equally have allowed it as an act of -charity to more innocent men to whom the earth had denied dissolution -and death had brought no repose. - -Thus the actual custom of burning dates from the pre-Slavonic era; it -is only the motive of the act which is changed. Formerly men felt pity -for the _revenant_, and sought to promote his dissolution in order to -release him from a state of suffering; now, as for some centuries past, -men feel only horror of the _vrykolakas_, and seek to promote his -dissolution in order to release themselves from a state of peril. Hence -no doubt came the more horrible barbarities occasionally inflicted on -the corpse; to tear out the heart, to boil it in vinegar, to tear the -body to shreds--these are the acts of a panic-stricken and vindictive -people eager to torment their foe before annihilating him. But in the -old custom of cremation there was nothing inhumane; it was the merciful -act of a people who had compassion upon the unquiet dead and gave to -them, in solicitude for their welfare, that boon of bodily dissolution -by which alone they were finally severed from the living and admitted -to the world of the departed. - - -§ 3. REVENANTS IN ANCIENT GREECE. - -The Slavonic and the ecclesiastical elements have now been removed from -the modern Greek superstition, and the Hellenic residue is briefly -this: the human body sometimes remains incorruptible in the earth, and -in this state is liable to resuscitation; persons so affected stand -as it were halfway between the living and the dead, resembling the -former when they walk the earth, and the latter when they are lying -quiet in their graves or, if unburied, elsewhere; during their periods -of resuscitation they act as reasonable human beings, but their whole -condition is pitiable, and the most humane way of treating them is -to burn their bodies; disintegration being thus secured, they return -no more to this world, but are numbered among the departed. Further -the causes of such a condition are threefold--lack of burial, sudden -death, and execration or deadly sin deserving of it. The only question -which we have left unsolved is that of the agency by which the body is -resuscitated. The Devil is now held responsible; but the Devil is a -Christian, not a pagan, conception. - -My purpose in the present section is, first, to verify by the aid of -classical literature the conclusions which have been reached, and, -secondly, to solve the one problem which remains. - -There is, so far as I know, only one story in ancient literature which -contains anything like a full account of a _revenant_. This is related -by Phlegon[1071], a freedman of Hadrian; and the narrator professes -to have been an eye-witness of the occurrences which he describes. In -his story are embodied most of those very ideas which on wholly other -grounds have been argued to form the genuine Hellenic element in the -modern superstition concerning _vrykolakes_, and I shall therefore -reproduce it at length. Unfortunately however the beginning of the -story is lost, and therewith possibly the cause assigned for the -strange conduct of the resuscitated corpse which plays the heroine’s -part. - -What remains of the story opens abruptly with a weird scene in the -guest-chamber of the house of Demostratus and his wife Charito. - -Their daughter Philinnion had been dead and buried somewhat less than -six months, when one evening she was observed by her old nurse in the -guest-chamber, where a young man named Machates was lodged, to all -appearances alive. The nurse at once ran to the girl’s parents and bade -them come with her and see their child. Charito however was so overcome -by the tidings that she first fainted and then wept hysterically for -her lost daughter and finally began to abuse the old woman, calling her -mad and ordering her out of the room; but the nurse expostulated with -spirit, and Charito at last went with her. In the meanwhile however -Philinnion and her lover had retired to rest, so that when the mother -arrived she could not obtain a good view of her; but from the peep -which she got of the girl’s clothes and the shape of her face she -thought that she recognised her daughter. Then, feeling that she could -not at that hour ascertain the truth of the matter, she decided to keep -quiet until morning, and then to rise betimes and surprise the girl if -still there, or, failing that, to extort from Machates the whole truth. - -But when dawn came the girl had gone away unobserved, and Charito began -to take Machates to task, telling him the whole story and imploring -him to confess the truth and to keep nothing back. The young man (who -seems to have been unaware that Charito had lost a daughter named -Philinnion) was much distressed, and at first would only admit that -such was indeed the name of the girl whom they had seen; but afterwards -he told the whole story of the girl’s visits to him, mentioning that -she had said that she came without her parents’ knowledge. To confirm -his story, he produced the gold ring which she had given him and her -breast-band which she had left behind on the previous night. These -were at once recognised by Charito as having belonged to her daughter, -and with a loud cry she rent her clothes and loosed her hair and threw -herself upon the ground beside the tokens and began making lamentation -anew. Her example was soon followed by others of the family as if in -preparation for a funeral, and Machates, at his wits’ end how to quiet -them, promised to let them see the girl if she should come to him again. - -That night accordingly they kept watch, and at the usual hour the -girl came, went into Machates’ room, and sat down upon the bed. The -young man himself was now anxious to learn the truth; he could not -wholly credit the supposition that it was a dead woman who had come so -regularly, and who had eaten and drunk with him and lain at his side, -and thought rather that the real Philinnion’s tomb had been robbed -and the booty sold to the father of the girl, whoever she might be, -who visited him. No sooner therefore was she come than he quietly -summoned the watchers. The girl’s parents at once entered, and were -for a while dumb with astonishment at the sight of her, and then threw -their arms round her with loud cries. Then said Philinnion, ‘O my -mother and father, it was wrong of you to grudge me three days with -this man here in my own home and doing no harm. And so, because of -your meddlesomeness, you shall mourn for me anew, and I shall go away -again to my appointed place. For it is by divine consent that I have -done thus.’ Scarcely had she spoken when she became a corpse and her -body lay stretched upon the bed in the sight of all. Confusion and loud -lamentation at once ensued, and before long the rumour had got about -the town and was reported to the narrator of the story, Phlegon, who -appears to have held some official position. To him at any rate it fell -to keep order during the night among the excited townsfolk, and early -next morning he was present at a crowded meeting in the theatre, at -which it was decided to inspect first of all the family vault in which -Philinnion had been laid. - -The vault having been opened, on all the shelves, save that -appropriated to Philinnion, were found bodies or bones; but on hers -there was nothing except an iron ring belonging to Machates and a -gilt cup--presents which she had received from him at her first -visit. Horror-stricken the party left the vault and went straight to -Demostratus’ house, and in the guest-chamber saw the girl stretched -upon the floor. Thence they returned to another public assembly as -crowded as the first, at which one Hyllus, who was reputed not only the -best seer of the place but also a clever diviner[1072] and possessed of -a comprehensive knowledge of other branches of the profession, advised -that the girl’s body should be taken outside the boundaries of the town -and should be burnt to ashes--it was inexpedient, he said, for her to -be buried in the town--and that certain propitiatory rites, accompanied -by a general purification, should be paid to Hermes Chthonios and the -Eumenides. - -The strange episode ended with the acceptance of this advice by the -townspeople and the suicide of Machates. - -This story was known to Father Richard of Santorini[1073], who -recognised in it an ancient case parallel to some which he himself had -witnessed or learnt from other eye-witnesses in his own times. Even the -harmless character of Philinnion did not appear to him incompatible -with the popular conception of _vrykolakes_. Indeed, as we saw above, -he himself mentions, among the many instances known to him, one in -which a shoemaker of Santorini, having turned _vrykolakas_, manifested -no vicious tendencies, but rather the greatest affection and solicitude -for his wife and children. - -Nor again is the incident of Philinnion’s intercourse with Machates -unparalleled in modern times. Many travellers and writers[1074] have -concurred in recording the belief that the _vrykolakas_ sometimes -revisits his widow, or does violence to other women in their husbands’ -absence, or even marries again in some place where he is unknown, and -that of such unions children have been born. Indeed in the Middle -Ages this belief seems to have spread even beyond the confines of -Greece; for a Roman priest, early in the seventeenth century, sums up -the views of his Church on the subject as follows[1075]: ‘Devils, -though incorporeal and spiritual, can take to themselves the bodies of -dead men ... and in such bodies can have intercourse with women, as -commonly with _striges_[1076] and witches, and by such union can even -beget children.’ This statement would be a fair ecclesiastical summary -of modern Greek belief. In Thessaly I myself was told of a family in -the neighbourhood of Domoko, who reckoned a _vrykolakas_ among their -ancestors of the second or third generation back, and by virtue of such -lineage inherited a special skill (such as is more commonly ascribed -to σαββατογεννημένοι, ‘men born on a Saturday,’ when _vrykolakes_ -usually rest in their graves, or to ἀλαφροστοίχει̯ωτοι[1077], those who -are in close touch with a ‘familiar spirit,’) in dealing with those -_vrykolakes_ which from time to time troubled the country-side; indeed -they had been summoned, I was assured, even to remote districts for -consultation as specialists. - -The story of Philinnion was not overlooked by Bernhard Schmidt, but he -does not appear to have recognised in it anything more relevant than -in the ancient ghost-stories (_gespenstergeschichten_) among which -he reckons it[1078]. Most emphatically this is no ghost-story. The -distinction between ghosts and Greek _revenants_ is of a primary and -universal nature, patent to all who can discriminate between soul and -body. In this story Philinnion acts as a _revenant_ and is treated as a -_revenant_; the inspection of the vault in which her body had been laid -and the purpose of her nocturnal visits to Machates furnish conclusive -evidence of her corporeal resuscitation; and the method of disposing of -her corpse is the method generally approved and employed in the case -of _revenants_--cremation. In effect all that remains of the story -is in complete accord with what I have claimed on other grounds as -the Hellenic element in the modern superstition; only one detail is -wanting--the cause of Philinnion’s resuscitation--and if we had the -first part of the story, it is not unlikely that in it we should find -that her early death had been also sudden or violent. Clearly then the -belief in _revenants_ was known in Greece in the age of Hadrian. - -A casual allusion to the same superstition occurs also in -Lucian[1079]. ‘I know of a man,’ says a doctor named Antigonus, ‘who -rose again twenty days after he was buried; I attended him after his -resurrection as well as before his death.’ ‘But how was it,’ rejoins -another, ‘that in twenty days the body did not decompose or in any -case the man perish of hunger?’ Unfortunately no answer is given and -the subject drops, but the man in question was clearly a corporeal -_revenant_ and not a mere ghost. - -A reference to the same vulgar belief is also seemingly intended by -Aristophanes in the _Ecclesiazusae_, where the personal appearance of -one of the reprobate old women calls forth the exclamation, - - ‘Is yon an ape be-plastered with white lead, - Or an old hag uprisen from the dead?’[1080] - -The passage is of course too brief to make any such allusion certain; -but it becomes highly probable if it can be shown from other sources -that the superstition was popularly current in Aristophanes’ time. This -I can do. - -The fixity of popular phrases of imprecation has been amply -demonstrated in the last section[1081]. A large selection of curses, -all conceived in the same spirit, furnished, by their contrast with -some features of the now contaminated superstition, a clue for the -detection of the Slavonic elements therein. These imprecations, we -learnt, were based upon the purely Hellenic belief, and had remained -unaffected by the foreign influence which had modified and in some -respects almost transformed it. Spoken often in a moment of passion, -springing spontaneously and familiarly to the lips, too hasty to be -informed by conscious thought, such curses have been handed down from -generation to generation as fixed expressions subject to none of the -changes which come of deliberate reflection. Though the old beliefs -have been altered by the infusion of alien doctrines, the old curses -stand fast in bold antagonism to all foreign lore, true records -of a superstition now garbled, coins stamped with the effigy and -superscription of by-gone thought, but current still. - -As the simplest types of these old-established curses may be taken -the two phrases, νὰ μὴν τὸν δεχτῇ ἡ γῆς, ‘May the earth not receive -him,’ and νὰ τὸν βγάλῃ ἡ γῆς, ‘May the earth cast him out.’ The one -is negative in form, the other positive, but both equally suggest, -in the peasant’s mind, both the incorruptibility of the body and its -resuscitation. Can a prototype of these curses be found in ancient -literature? If so, in view of the general continuity of Greek belief -and custom, we shall be justified in concluding that, as those ancient -curses are identical with the modern, so the superstition which -suggested them in old time is identical with that part of the modern -superstition on which they are now based. - -Two examples of these curses are furnished by Euripides. In a scene -where Orestes conjures his comrade Pylades to leave him and not -to involve himself in the meditated act of vengeance, the latter -replies[1082], ‘Never may the fruitful earth receive my blood, nor yet -the gleaming air, if ever I turn traitor to thee and save myself and -forsake thee!’ In like tone rings out Hippolytus’ assertion of his -innocence toward his father[1083]: ‘Now by Zeus the judge of oaths and -by the earth beneath our feet, I swear that never have I touched thy -marriage-bed, nor would have willed it nor conceived the thought. May I -verily perish without glory and without name, cityless and homeless, an -outcast and wanderer upon the earth, yea and in death may neither sea -nor earth receive my flesh, if I have proved false!’ - -‘May the earth not receive my flesh!’ Such is the common burden of the -two oaths; such the final chord struck by Hippolytus in that symphony -of imprecations with which he vindicates his innocence; such too -would be the strongest oath by which any peasant of to-day might bind -himself. The very words have scarcely varied in a score of centuries; -who then will venture to claim that their purport is changed? Is it -not clear that just as in later times the Church, by incorporating the -popular curse in her formula of excommunication, seized the weapons -of paganism and turned them against those rebels and infidels whom -her own direst fulminations had no power to dismay, so Euripides, -conscious that no imaginings of his own art could suffice to excite in -his hearers that horror which the climax of self-execration demanded, -did not disdain ‘the touchings of things common,’ but turned to tragic -use a popular curse which then, as now, pierced home to every heart? -It would be strange indeed if words, which since early in the Christian -era have continuously implied a belief in the indissolubility and -resuscitation of those who die accursed, should be held to have borne -some other meaning a few centuries earlier. - -Thus then Euripides, by the identity of his language with that of -to-day, discovers most conspicuously his knowledge of that which -on other grounds I have shown to be the Hellenic element in the -superstition concerning _vrykolakes_. But he was not alone in -employing it for dramatic purposes. In the pages of Sophocles too -and of Aeschylus there are passages which only a knowledge of this -superstition can adequately explain. First among these is the climax -of that speech in which Oedipus, blind and outcast, denounces his -undutiful son: - -‘Begone, abhorred and renounced of me thy father, thou basest villain, -and take with thee these curses that I call down upon thee, that thou -win not with thy spear that land of thine own kin, nor yet return ever -again to the vale of Argos, but that thou and he that drave thee forth, -smiting and smitten, fall each by a brother’s hand. Such is my curse; -yea, and I call on Tartarus, in whose hated gloom my father lies, to -drive thee from his home[1084].’ - -The last phrase of this denunciation, - - καὶ καλῶ τοῦ Ταρτάρου - στυγνὸν πατρῷον Ἔρεβος, ὥς σ’ ἀποικίσῃ, - -is that with which I am concerned. It is an old-established difficulty. -Commentators have translated variously ‘to remove thee from thy home,’ -‘to take thee away to his home,’ ‘to give thee another home’; but in -effect they are all agreed in trying to make the words refer to removal -from this to the nether world, or, in one word, to death. Now even -if the word ἀποικίζω could in this context bear any of the meanings -ascribed to it, such an euphemism following upon the explicit threat -that Polynices should be slain by his own brother’s hand would be -an imbecile anticlimax; but I question the very possibility of the -supposed usage. It is true that an emigrant from one place becomes an -immigrant into another; but that cannot justify the interchange of -the two terms. Tartarus is here besought, as plainly as language can -express it, to drive Polynices out, not to take him in. There can be -only one explanation of that prayer. Polynices’ death has already been -foretold; but his father’s curse pursues him beyond death. Tartarus, in -whose keeping the dead should lie, is conjured to drive him forth from -the home of the dead, even as the peasants now pray that the earth may -cast out those whom they hate. - -And the context shows clearly that the curse was so understood by -Polynices. Turning to Antigone and Ismene with impassioned entreaty -he implores them--them at least, though all others forsake him and -turn against him--if so be his father’s cruel imprecations come to -fulfilment and they, his sisters, ever return to their home, not to -leave him dishonoured, but to lay him in the grave and to grant him -the guerdons of the dead[1085]. Why then this insistence, unless -the father’s curse had extended beyond death? Merely to introduce -a reference to the plot of the _Antigone_? Clearly more than that. -Polynices was to die bound by his father’s curse, slain by his -brother’s hand, doubly debarred, if modern beliefs be a key to ancient, -from dissolution and from reception into the nether world. The words -of his father’s invocation of Tartarus had conveyed to his mind the -certainty of a doom outlasting death, that Tartarus should not receive -him, but reject him from the home of the dead. Only one faint gleam of -hope was left, that by the fulfilment of those last offices of love -toward the departed, which were for all men a passport to the lower -world, he, burdened and bound with a father’s curse, both slayer and -slain of his own brother, might yet be not debarred from his last home, -but free to enter into rest. - -Thus Sophocles in language less popular, but hardly less clear, than -that of Euripides proclaims that the belief in the non-dissolution or -rejection of the body by the earth and the powers under the earth was -a terror as potent then as it is now, and an ever effective weapon of -malediction. Aeschylus had gone even further, and, by enlisting this -terror among the threats uttered on behalf of a dead man by a god -in his most holy sanctuary, had claimed as it were for the popular -superstition the highest religious sanction. - -In the _Choephori_[1086] Orestes is made to review in a speech as -difficult as it is powerful the motives which are urging him on to the -requital of blood with blood. Most cogent among these motives is the -explicit command issued from Apollo’s Delphic shrine, bidding him not -spare his father’s murderess, mother though she be, and foretelling the -direst penalties for disobedience. And what are these penalties? First, -the physical torment of ‘blains that leap upon the flesh and with -savage jaws eat out its erstwhile vigour’; second, the mental horror of -coming madness, ‘the arrow that flieth in darkness winged by the powers -of hell with the curse of fallen kindred, even raving and vain terror -born of the night’; third, banishment from home and city, with no place -at friendly board, no part in drink-offering and sacrifice; and yet one -penalty more wherein should culminate the threatened agonies, ‘to die -at last with none to honour, none to love him, damned, even in the doom -that wastes all, to know no corruption.’ - -Of the earlier penalties and of their intimate connexion with one -branch of this popular superstition I shall have occasion to speak -later. Here I have only to justify the new rendering which I have given -to the last lines of the passage, - - πάντων δ’ ἄτιμον κἄφιλον θνήσκειν χρόνῳ - κακῶς ταριχευθέντα παμφθάρτῳ μόρῳ[1087]. - -It has generally been held that ταριχευθέντα is here metaphorically -used of the wasting or withering of the body through physical -suffering, the first penalty, or, it may be, through mental distress, -the second. In other words, the last line of the passage merely -sums up in a concise expression a penalty, or penalties, previously -detailed. On the same view it is but consistent to regard πάντων ἄτιμον -κἄφιλον as a similar summary of the third penalty. Stripped of these -recapitulations and vain repetitions Apollo’s final threat amounts -to--what? θνήσκειν χρόνῳ, ‘to die in course of time.’ A blood-curdling -and unique climax of human suffering in very truth! And this a last -threat after leprosy and madness and outcast loneliness? Surely rather -a promise of release and rest. - -But let the anti-climax pass. Whence comes the alleged metaphorical -meaning of ταριχεύεσθαι, so foreign to its normal use? How comes -it to denote the wasting of disease, and what authority has this -supposed use? Its mainstay apparently is a single passage in a -pseudo-Demosthenic speech, which, in describing the cowardly assault of -a young man upon an old, depicts the aggressor as νεαλὴς καὶ πρόσφατος -and his victim as τεταριχευμένου καὶ πολὺν χρόνον συμπεπτωκότος[1088]. -But here the metaphor, whatever may be thought of its elegance or -of its likelihood to excite mirth rather than indignation, is at -least clearly explained both by its antithesis and by its context; -νεαλὴς and πρόσφατος are terms properly applied to ‘fresh’ fish or -meat, τεταριχευμένος to the same commodities ‘preserved’ by drying or -pickling, and we understand at once that the old man is represented -to be dried and shrivelled in appearance. Such is the support for the -alleged Aeschylean usage of ταριχευθέντα without the same antithesis -to illuminate its meaning. Are we then to understand that all the -fulminations and thunderings of Apollo’s oracle dwindle away into an -appeal to Orestes’ pride in his personal appearance and a warning that -leprosy will render him as unattractive as a bloater? Or, if it be -claimed that the slow painful process of wasting is suggested rather -than its ultimate effect, is it reasonable that a word which properly -denotes artificial preservation should be used metaphorically of -natural decay? This is not metaphor, but metamorphosis. - -Let us then abandon far-fetched explanations; let us conceive it -possible that Aeschylus used the word in the sense which it normally -bore in relation to the human body--‘preserved from corruption,’ like -the mummies of Egypt--and further that he placed the word παμφθάρτῳ -in immediate juxtaposition with it in order to emphasise the more -strikingly the contrast between the threatened ‘non-corruption’ and -the ordinary ‘wasting’ powers of death. So understood, the final -penalty presents a true climax. As the victim is to be excluded in his -lifetime from all intercourse with the living, so in his death, by the -withholding of that dissolution without which there is no entrance to -the lower world, he is to be cut off from communion with the dead. He -is to die with none to honour him with the rites due to the dead, none -to love him and shed the tears that are their just meed, but even in -that last doom which consumes all others is damned to be withheld from -corruption. As ‘Euripides the human’ uses the common phrase of to-day -‘May the earth not receive,’ so Aeschylus the divine anticipates the -ecclesiastical formula, ‘and after death thou shalt be indissoluble.’ - -The same contrast between the all-wasting functions of death and the -‘bound’ condition of the damned now becomes intelligible in two other -passages of Aeschylus. - -In the _Supplices_ the king of the Pelasgians, who is beset by the -daughters of Danaus with the twofold claim of kinsfolk and suppliants, -and besought to deliver them from the lust and violence of their -pursuers, acknowledges himself in a sore strait. If he rescue his -suppliants, he may involve his people in war; if he refuse to -hearken, he fears that, as a tacit accomplice in the violence and -pollution[1089] threatened, he may make to himself ‘the God of all -destruction a stern Avenger ever present, an Avenger that sets not free -the dead even in Hades’ home[1090].’ - -Again in the _Eumenides_, when Orestes having slain his mother is no -longer seeking for vengeance but flying therefrom with no hope of -safety save in the promises of Apollo whose will he has done, the band -of pursuing Furies, like to be presently thwarted by that god, yet -comfort their black hearts with the assurance of future retribution. -‘Yea,’ cries one, ‘me doth Apollo vex, but Orestes shall he not redeem; -though he flee from me beneath the earth, there is no freeing for him, -but because of his blood-guiltiness he shall find another in my stead -to visit his pollution on his head[1091].’ - -The conception of future punishment in these two passages is clearly -the same. What then is meant by the fear that even the dead may not -be set free? and who is ‘the God of all destruction’ who is named in -the first passage as the author of that punishment? The answer has -already been found. ‘The all-destroying, God’ (ὁ πανώλεθρος θεὸς) is -none other than the ‘all-wasting doom’ (πάμφθαρτος μόρος) of Apollo’s -oracle--Death personified instead of death abstract; and Death’s -refusal ‘to set free’ the dead is to be interpreted in the light -of Apollo’s warning to Orestes that, if he fail in his duty to his -murdered sire, he will himself in death be ‘damned to incorruption.’ -The language employed is indeed vaguer and more allusive; the word -ἐλευθεροῦν, ‘to set free,’ might suggest many ideas besides bodily -‘freeing’ or dissolution; yet it may be noticed that this is the very -word which the above-quoted[1092] _nomocanon de excommunicatis_ uses -interchangeably with the more common λύειν in this very sense. Only -for us, who have not in our hearts the same faiths and fears quick to -vibrate in response to each touch of religious awe, is a commentary -needed; for a Greek audience the suggestion contained in ἐλευθεροῦν, -above all in its implied contrast with πανώλεθρος, fully sufficed. - -Thus then we have found two passages of Euripides containing -imprecations almost identical in form with the curses that may be heard -from the lips of modern Greek peasants; we have found a similar passage -in Sophocles which has hitherto proved a difficulty to commentators -simply because they have tried to pervert the meaning of the word -ἀποικίζω, when its normal sense will make the phrase a parallel to -those of Euripides and of modern Greece; and finally in the _Choephori_ -of Aeschylus--here again by reading a word in its proper sense--we have -found religious sanction claimed for the belief which underlies these -imprecations--the belief that the fate to be most dreaded by mankind -after death is incorruptibility and resuscitation. - -It remains to examine the supposed causes of this dreaded fate, -and to see whether the three causes which, when we discussed the -modern classes of men liable to become _vrykolakes_, appeared to be -Hellenic--namely, lack of burial, violent death, and parental or other -execration or any sin deserving it--actually figure as causes in -ancient Greek literature. - -It will be convenient to consider the last-mentioned first. - -An instance of formal execration has already been provided. No better -example than the curse called down by Oedipus upon his son could be -desired. But it was suggested above that in certain other cases, even -where no actual imprecation had been uttered, men were accounted -accursed; and indeed it would be an absurdity that a son who acted -undutifully towards his father should fall a victim to his curse, -but that one, let us say, who slew his father and gave him no time to -pronounce the damning words, should go scatheless. From the earliest -times, I believe, there were held to be certain deadly sins, sins -against the few primitive god-given principles of right and wrong, -which brought their own curse. Among these was numbered from the first -the murder of a kinsman. To this Hesiod[1093] adds others which were -so regarded in his day. ‘Equal is the guilt when one ill treateth the -suppliant and the stranger, or goeth up unto his brother’s bed, ... or -sinneth against orphan children and heedeth not, or chideth his old -father, who hath passed the gloomy gates of age, and raileth upon him -with hard words; against such an one verily Zeus himself is wroth, -and at the end layeth upon him stern retribution for his unrighteous -deeds.’ A more civilised age included all murder in the list; and later -again the Church seems to have extended it until ‘transgressors of the -divine law’ might become _ipso facto_ excommunicate and accursed. - -To Aeschylus the chief of such sins was unquestionably the murder -of a close kinsman; but other sins also, especially those involving -pollution (μίασμα), rendered the perpetrator liable to the same -punishment as followed upon a formal imprecation. And this view was -not of Aeschylus’ own invention; it must have belonged to the popular -religion. Otherwise it would be impossible to explain how the Greek -Church in the Middle Ages had come to adopt almost the same views as -Aeschylus. For what said the Church? The _nomocanon_ quoted in the last -section[1094] teaches that persons who ‘have been justly, reasonably, -and lawfully excommunicated by their bishops, as transgressors of the -divine law, and have died in the state of excommunication, without -amending their ways and receiving forgiveness,’ may be expected to -remain whole and incorrupt after death. But another ecclesiastical -document[1095] shows clearly that a formal sentence of excommunication -was not essential to this result; a distinction is drawn between him -whose corpse appears white, showing that he was ‘excommunicated by -the divine laws,’ and him whose corpse is black, showing that he was -‘excommunicated by a bishop.’ Clearly then the Church taught that -certain ‘transgressors of the divine law’ might become automatically -excommunicate. Certain deadly sins deserved the ecclesiastical curse -and, whether it were pronounced or not, incurred the same punishment -after death. The list of such sins was certainly extended by the Church -so as to include, for example, apostasy, omission of baptism, the more -reprehensible acts of sorcery, and suicide, which was, and still is -sometimes, a bar to Christian burial. But at the same time the number -of those sins which were actually left to work out their own curse was -probably diminished; the Church constituted herself judge, and in most -cases formally sentenced the sinner to that punishment which the sin -alone, without her condemnation, was popularly believed to entail. If -then we strip this doctrine of its ecclesiastical dress and put out of -sight the intervention of an hierarchy arrogating to itself the office -of binding and loosing, there remains the simple belief that certain -transgressors of the divine law, certain sinners of deadly sins, were -_ipso facto_ accursed and condemned to incorruption. - -Is not this precisely the Aeschylean doctrine? Pelasgus, if he should -consent unto the violence of those suitors who sought the daughters -of Danaus in unhallowed wedlock, if he should defy Zeus the God of -suppliants and set at naught those other deities at whose altar his -kinswomen sat--would not he indeed be a transgressor of the divine -law? He acknowledges it himself, and, conformably to the doctrine -enunciated, anticipates that Death himself will turn Avenger and free -him not when dead. Orestes, owing to his murdered father the sacred -duty of vengeance and expressly urged by Apollo to perform it--would -not he too be a transgressor of the divine law, if he should fail -or flag in his enterprise of blood? Fitly then did Apollo threaten -him that after manifold troubles in life he should die damned to -incorruption. The same Orestes, viewed now not from Apollo’s standpoint -but from that of the Erinyes, bloodguilty with his mother’s murder--had -he not perpetrated a deadly sin, was he not a transgressor of the -divine law? Rightly then may his foes exult that he shall not escape, -but, though he be fled from them beneath the earth, still ‘hath -he no freeing.’ In fine, Aeschylus agrees, save for the mediaeval -multiplication of deadly sins, with the doctrine of the Church; and -this agreement is proof that in the popular creed of Greece, from -which both Aeschylus and the Church must have borrowed, the commission -of certain sins has always involved the penalty of incorruptibility, -whether the curse which those sins merited had been formally pronounced -or no. The actual source and operation of such unspoken curses will be -considered in the next section. - -The other two causes, lack of burial and violent death, may be -considered together; for the whole trend of ancient literature in -regard to both these calamities is the same, namely, that they caused -the return of the dead man’s spirit--of his spirit only, be it noted, -and not of his body. It is the ghost of Patroclus which in the -_Iliad_[1096] appears to Achilles and demands the funeral-rites due to -his body; it is the ghost of Elpenor which in the _Odyssey_[1097] makes -the same claim upon Odysseus; it is the ghost of Polydorus which in -the _Hecuba_[1098] of Euripides bemoans his body cast away in the sea. -Again it is the ghost of Clytemnestra which in the _Eumenides_[1099] -of Aeschylus comes seeking vengeance for her violent death; and Lucian -in the _Philopseudes_[1100] gives special prominence to this cause of -the soul’s unrest. ‘Perhaps, Eucrates,’ says one of the speakers in -the dialogue, ‘what Tychiades means is this, that the only souls which -wander about are those of men who met with a violent death--anyone, for -example, who hanged himself, or was beheaded or impaled, or departed -this life in any other such way--but that the souls of those who -died a natural death do not wander; if that is his theory, it cannot -be lightly dismissed.’ It is needless to multiply examples[1101]; -literary tradition, from Homer down to Lucian, is all in favour of the -re-appearance of the soul, and not of the body, as the result of either -lack of burial or violent death. - -It is perfectly clear then that there is a considerable discrepancy -between the ancient literary view and the modern popular creed. Ancient -literature is extremely reticent on the subject of bodily resuscitation -occasioned solely by a violent death[1102] or by lack of burial. In -Phlegon’s story it is indeed probable that the cause of Philinnion’s -re-appearance was a violent death; but the first part of the narrative -is missing, and no such statement is actually made. - -In modern beliefs, on the contrary, there is little or no trace of -the idea that the dead return for these causes in purely spiritual -form. The very conception of ghosts is weak and indefinite among the -peasantry. I have certainly been told by peasants of cases in which -a person at the point of death has appeared, presumably in spiritual -form, to friends at a distance; and there is a fairly common belief, -seemingly derived from the Bible, that at Easter many of the graves -are opened and release for a time the spirits of the dead. But it is a -significant fact that there is not even a name for ghosts which cannot -be equally well applied to any supernatural apparitions. The thought -of them in general seems to be nothing more definite than a vague -uneasiness in the minds of timid women and children at that hour when - - ‘a faint erroneous ray, - Glanced from the imperfect surfaces of things, - Flings half an image on the straining eye.’ - -There is no fixed creed or tradition here. In an account of the -definite superstitions of modern Greece ghosts are a _quantité -négligeable_. - -But, while ancient literature and modern superstition are thus in -direct conflict on one point, they are agreed in making lack of burial -and violent death the causes of a certain unrest on the part of the -dead; and though the one usually attributes that unrest to the ghost, -and the other to the corpse, their agreement in all else could not -surely be a mere casual coincidence; there must be a connexion to be -discovered between them. - -The consistency of the popular view which has obtained practically -throughout the Christian era has already been established. The Church -found the Greek people already firmly convinced that the two causes -which we are considering, no less than formal execration or execrable -sin, led to bodily incorruption and resuscitation. The only moot -point is what agency was held to produce the resuscitation before -the Church taught that it was the work of the Devil. But can equal -consistency be claimed for ancient literature? It has just now been -shown that the tragedians recognised that a curse or a deadly sin led -to the resuscitation of the body; and yet they make lack of burial -and violent death lead rather to the re-appearance of a ghost. Why -then this discrimination between the effects produced by causes all of -which in more recent popular belief produce the same effect? My answer -is that popular belief in antiquity was the same as popular belief -now in respect of all the causes, but that literary propriety forbade -more than a mere verbal reference to so gross a superstition as bodily -resuscitation. When a dead man was required in literature to re-appear, -he was conventionally pourtrayed as a ghost, not as a walking corpse; -and the convention was, I think, right and necessary. - -For let it be granted for a moment that the popular belief of to-day -dates from the earliest times, and that then as now the _revenant_ was -popularly pictured as a monster ‘swollen and distended all over so that -the joints can scarcely be bent; the skin being stretched like the -parchment of a drum, and when struck giving out the same sound.’ Could -even Homer have re-animated the dead Patroclus, with this unearthly -ghastliness added to his wounds and to his mangling by the chariot, -and have brought him to Achilles in the darkness of the night, without -exciting in his breast horror instead of pity and loathing for love? -Euripides again was greatly daring when he assigned the prologue of -a tragedy to Polydorus’ ghost; but even he could not have restrained -the unquenchable mirth of his audience, if his play had opened with -a soliloquy by an agitated corpse. Epic and dramatic propriety must -have demanded some refinement of so grossly material a conception. The -canons of drama, we know, would not allow the enactment of a murder on -the stage before the eyes of the spectators; would it then have been -compatible with the restraint of Greek art to represent the murdered -body as a _revenant_? Aeschylus himself, the lover of weird misbegotten -shapes, would have recoiled from such an enterprise. But those same -canons did permit a verbal description of the murder; and similarly the -tragedians permitted themselves to refer, in imprecations and suchlike, -to the horror of bodily resuscitation. - -The case then stands thus. References are, as we have seen, made by the -tragedians to the possibility of men becoming _revenants_, whereas -they shrank from presenting the actuality. But the references to the -possibility occur, chiefly at any rate, in imprecations, with the -result that at first sight a curse would seem to have been the only -recognised cause of bodily resuscitation in ancient times; whereas -the most famous literary examples of the actual re-appearance of the -dead--Clytemnestra and Polydorus in tragedy, or, if we go back to -Homer, Patroclus and Elpenor--happen to be cases in which the cause -was lack of burial or a violent death, with the result that literary -tradition inclined to substitute ghosts for the corporeal _revenants_ -of the popular creed in these two cases. - -Such is my explanation of the discrepancy; and the probability of -it is warranted by three considerations--first, that Greek Tragedy -does contain one or two references to the possible resuscitation of -other than the accursed--second, that Plato modifies the popular -notions concerning the accursed in almost the same way that the -tragedians modified the fate of the unburied and of those slain by -violence--third, that the literary tradition concerning ghosts is in -itself inconsistent and bears the marks of arbitrary modification. - -The most important reference in Tragedy occurs in the _Choephori_, -where Orestes and Electra pray their murdered father to rise from -the grave in bodily form[1103]. This passage, together with a close -parallel from Sophocles, will be fully discussed later[1104]. Here -I need only point out the justification by Aeschylus of my theory -that the substitution of ghost for _revenant_ is a necessary literary -convention. He suggests verbally the possible uprising of the murdered -Agamemnon as a _revenant_; but, when it comes to an actual presentation -of the murdered Clytemnestra on the stage, his _dramatis persona_ is a -ghost. - -Next, Plato, in a well-known passage of the _Phaedo_[1105], speaks -of the souls of dead men having actually been seen in the form of -shadowy apparitions haunting the neighbourhood of tombs--souls, he -explains, which have not been fully cleansed and freed from the -visible material world, but still have some part therein and hence -are themselves visible; and, he adds, these are the souls of the -wicked, which are compelled to wander thus in punishment for their -former evil life. Naturally Plato of all men--and of all his works -in the _Phaedo_--could not accept the notion that the body under any -conditions remained incorruptible; his whole doctrine is imbued with -his belief that the gross and material perishes, and only the pure -and spiritual endures. When therefore he came to utilise the popular -doctrine, which the tragedians had endorsed, that certain sinners -were condemned to incorruption, some modification of the idea was -necessary; and accordingly he makes the wicked to wander as ghosts, not -as corporeal _revenants_, just as Homer and the tragedians seem to have -done in the case of the unburied and those who had met their death by -violence. Plato’s extension of the literary tradition suggests that its -earlier development had been such as I have indicated. - -Lastly, the literary tradition, as represented by earlier writers than -Plato, is by no means uniform. If it had been a definite religious -doctrine, and not merely a literary convention, that the unburied -returned as ghosts, the presentment of Patroclus and of Polydorus -should have been in all respects similar. But what do we find? Each -certainly appears as a ghost and asks for burial; but there the -resemblance ends. According to Homer[1106] the spirit of Patroclus, in -craving burial of his body, declares that, ere that rite be performed, -the spirit itself cannot pass the gates of Hades but is held aloof by -the spirits of the other dead, and moreover that having once passed -it can no more return to this world. According to Euripides[1107], -familiar though he must have been with Homer’s teaching, the spirit of -Polydorus had passed within the gates of Hades and by permission of -the nether gods had returned to demand the burial of his body. Homer’s -reason for the soul’s anxiety about the body’s burial is none too -convincing in itself; for it only raises a further question: if death -means the final separation of soul from body, and the lower world is -tenanted by souls only--for so Homer at any rate teaches--why should -the denizens of that world make the admission of a newly-sped soul -conditional upon the burial of the body which it had finally quitted? -But, what is more important, Homer’s reason, such as it is, is flatly -disavowed by Euripides, who yet advances no reason of his own why the -spirit of Polydorus, having once passed into Hades’ halls, should have -any further interest in its old carnal tenement. This disagreement can -only mean that Homer and Euripides were not following an acknowledged -doctrine of popular religion in representing Patroclus and Polydorus in -the form of ghosts; for in that case they would surely have agreed with -the popular doctrine, and therefore also with each other, in assigning -a reason for the ghost’s interest in the burial of its discarded body. -Either then there was no popular belief on the whole subject--which is -incredible--or else it was such as literary propriety forbade them to -follow. Now if the popular belief was that the unburied appeared as -corporeal _revenants_, their eagerness for burial is intelligible; but -if a ghost be substituted by literary convention for the _revenant_, -a good reason for such eagerness becomes hard to find. Hence the -inconsequence of Homer’s reason; hence the silence of Euripides. - -But if, as now seems likely, the substitution of mere ghost for bodily -_revenant_ was a literary convention, it by no means follows that -that convention is valueless as a guide to the popular beliefs of the -time. It may represent a part of those beliefs, though not the whole. -The established doctrines on this whole subject were not remodelled -by the tragedians save in obedience to the laws of their art. This we -definitely know; for the causes which they assign for the unrest of -the dead are numbered among the popularly received causes which remain -to this day; and even the idea of physical resuscitation was retained -and effectively utilised by them within certain limitations. Clearly -then they kept what they could, and only changed what they must. -Judicious selection rather than arbitrary invention was the method by -which the literary tradition was established. Since then that tradition -uniformly speaks of the soul’s return, while discrepancies only arise -in accounting for the soul’s interest in the corpse, was it perhaps -only in the latter respect that literary tradition parted company with -popular belief? Did the spirit as well as the body of the dead play -some part in the popular superstition? Did the common-folk too hold -that, after the separation of soul from body at death, the soul itself -under certain conditions returned from its flight towards the house of -Hades--returned however not to appear alone in ghostly guise, but to -re-animate the dead body and raise it up as a _revenant_? Was this the -popular doctrine from which literature selected, recording the soul’s -return, but suppressing the re-animation of the body, and thereby -creating for itself the difficulty of explaining the soul’s interest in -the body? - -The hypothesis commends itself as providing at the same time an answer -to the one question which remained unanswered in the last section. We -saw that, through ecclesiastical influence, Christian Greece has long -assigned the work of resuscitating the dead to the Devil. But to whom -or to what did pagan Greece previously assign it? Surely in the whole -range of Greek mythology it were hard to find any supernatural being -either specially suited or probably condemned to such a task. The soul -is, _prima facie_, the most appropriate and likely agent. - -But there is even stronger evidence than this. The probable becomes -proven when we turn back to the only full pagan account of a bodily -_revenant_, the story of Philinnion. What are her words, when she is -discovered by her parents? ‘Mother and father, it was wrong of you to -grudge me three days with this man here in my own home and doing no -harm. And so, because of your meddlesomeness, you shall mourn for me -anew, and I shall go away to my appointed place. For it is by divine -consent that I have done thus.’ And how is her threat of going away -fulfilled? ‘Scarce had she spoken when she became a corpse, and her -body lay stretched upon the bed in the sight of all.’ The words ‘I -shall go away’ were therefore intended by the writer to mean ‘My soul -will go away’; for the body remained. Clearly then, in the belief of -that age, resuscitation of the dead meant the re-animation of the body -by the soul which had been temporarily separated from it. - -In the light of this fact Plato’s reference to the wandering of the -souls of the wicked is found to approximate more nearly to the popular -superstition. Such souls, he says, have been seen in the neighbourhood -of tombs; and they are visible because they are not cleansed and freed -from the visible and material world[1108], but participate therein. -What then is the particular material thing in which they participate -and which keeps them near the tombs? Evidently the body whose -impurities they contracted in life, the body from which they are not -cleansed and freed. Plato admits only participation, not re-animation; -but in all else he adheres to the genuine popular belief. -The same idea furnishes also what I believe to be the true explanation -of the custom of the so-called ‘Charon’s obol.’ The coin or other -object placed in the mouth of the dead was originally, I have -argued[1109], a charm to prevent the entry of some evil spirit or the -re-entry of the soul into the corpse. In Chios and in Rhodes, as we -have seen, this is the popular explanation still given--the particular -spirit against whom the precaution is taken being, owing to Christian -influence, a devil. But if, as is likely, a devil has merely been -substituted for the soul, while the rest of the superstition has -remained unchanged, it follows that the precaution was originally -directed against the return of the soul, and so was a means of ensuring -bodily dissolution; for, though I cannot actually prove it, it is -natural to suppose that re-animation was not the result, but the cause, -of incorruption. - -To sum up, the conclusions which have been reached stand thus:--Death, -according to the popular religion of ancient Greece, was not a final -separation of body and soul; in certain cases the body remained -incorrupt and the soul re-animated it. This condition, in which the -dead belonged neither to this nor to the nether world, was one of -misery; and bodily dissolution was to be desired. Dissolution could -in no case be properly effected without the rite of interment or -cremation. The unburied therefore formed one class of _revenants_. But -even due interment did not necessarily produce dissolution; a sudden or -violent death rendered the body incorruptible, presumably because the -proper hour had not yet come for the soul to leave it; an imprecation -withheld the body from decay by its own ‘binding’ power; and finally, -the commission of a deadly sin, above all of murder, rendered the -sinner subject to the same dire fate as if the curse which his sin -merited had actually been pronounced. The only unfailing method of -dissolution was cremation. - - -§ 4. REVENANTS AS AVENGERS OF BLOOD. - -The conclusions which have now been reached show, among others, the -somewhat surprising result, that the popular religion of Greece both -ancient and modern has always comprised the belief that both the -murdered and the murderer were doomed to the same unhappy lot after -death. The murderer, in the class of men polluted and accursed by -heinous sin, and his victim, in the class of those who have met with -violent deaths, have alike been regarded as pre-disposed to become -_revenants_. The two facts thus simply stated constitute a problem -which deserves investigation. It can be no accident that two classes -of men, so glaringly contrasted here, should be believed to share the -same fate hereafter. Some relation between the two beliefs must surely -subsist. - -The solution to which the mind naturally leaps is the idea that in some -way retributive justice causes the murderer to be punished with the -selfsame suffering as he has brought upon his victim; that, as blood -calls for blood, so the resuscitation of the murdered calls for the -resuscitation of the murderer; that the old law, δράσαντι παθεῖν, ‘as -a man hath wrought, so must he suffer,’ is not limited to this world -nor fully vindicated by the mere shedding of the murderer’s blood, but -dooms him to become, like his victim, a _revenant_ from the grave. - -Such an explanation of the two facts before us is, it may almost be -said, obviously and self-evidently right, so far as it goes; but the -proof of its correctness is best to be obtained by going further, -so as not merely to indicate the appropriateness of the murderer’s -punishment, but to discover also the agency whereby it is inflicted; -for, if it can be established that according to the popular belief it -is the murdered man himself who, in the form of a _revenant_, plagues -his murderer, then the retributive character of all the murderer’s -sufferings both here and hereafter will be manifest. - -The most striking testimony to the existence of such a belief is to -be found in a gruesome practice to which, we are told, murderers in -old time were addicted--the practice of mutilating (μασχαλίζειν) the -murdered man by cutting off his hands and feet, and either placing -them under his armpits or tying them with a band (μασχαλιστήρ) round -his breast. What object was had in view in so disposing of the severed -extremities, if indeed our information as to the act itself be correct, -remains uncertain; perhaps indeed that information amounts to nothing -more than a faulty conjectural interpretation of the word μασχαλίζειν -itself, which might equally well mean to sever the arms from the body -at the armpit and to treat the lower limbs in similar fashion. But at -any rate the intention of the whole act of mutilation is known and -clear; the murderer sought to deprive his victim of the power to exact -vengeance for his wrongs. Clearly then the vengeance apprehended was -not that of a disembodied spirit entreating the gods to act on its -behalf or appearing in visions to its surviving kinsfolk and urging -them to requite the murderer, but the vengeance of a bodily _revenant_ -with feet swift to pursue and hands strong to strike. On no other -grounds is the mutilation of the dead body intelligible. - -But if any doubt could still rest upon this interpretation of the old -custom, it must be finally dispersed by a consideration of the one -instance of the same custom known to me in modern times. This occurs -in a story which I have already related[1110]--the story of a human -sacrifice in Santorini at the time of the Greek War of Independence, as -narrated to me by an old man of the island who claimed to have himself -taken part in the affair. According to his narrative not only the head -of the victim was cut off but also his hands, and in that order. Why -then this mutilation of the dead body? That question I put in vain to -the old man; he had obliged me by giving me his reminiscences, but he -had no intention of letting himself be cross-questioned upon them. Yet -the real answer is not hard to conjecture. Santorini is the most famous -haunt of _vrykolakes_ in the whole of Greece, and familiarity with them -has bred in the minds of the islanders no contempt for them, but rather -a more lively terror. Nowhere therefore is any expedient for combating -the powers of the _vrykolakas_ more likely to be remembered and -adopted. Since then the human victim in the story is not represented as -a willing victim, but was evidently seized and slain by violence, his -slayers, in performing their task, must have recognised that he would -in all probability turn _vrykolakas_, and in their mutilation of his -corpse (a deed inexpressibly repugnant to Greek feeling now as in old -time) can only have been actuated by the hope of thus incapacitating -the _revenant_ for his otherwise sure and terrible vengeance. - -The reason then why the murderer as well as the murdered becomes a -_revenant_ is plain. The victim, rising from his grave in bodily -substance, pursues his enemy with untiring rancour until he brings him -to the same sorry state as that to which he himself has come. -Such, I venture to say, has been the conviction deep down in the hearts -of the Greek people from the earliest times down to this day. A custom, -which consists in a deliberate and sacrilegious act of mutilation, -more ghastly than murder itself, perpetrated upon the helpless dead, -and which yet has continued unchanged throughout the changes and -chances which the Greek people have undergone for more than a score of -centuries, can only be based upon the most immutable of superstitious -beliefs and dreads, and reveals more unerringly than even the whole -literature of Greece the fundamental ideas of the Greek people -concerning the avenging of blood. The murdered man in bodily shape -avenges his own wrongs. - -But while the existence of this belief is thus established by the best -evidence of all, namely the fact that men have continued to act upon -it, the views of ancient writers on the subject of blood-guilt are not -on that account to be neglected; on the contrary, the whole literature -bearing thereupon, and above all the story of the house of Atreus -as told by Aeschylus, much as they have been studied, deserve fresh -consideration just for the very reason that our judgement of them must -be modified by this new fact. Starting with the knowledge of the part -which the murdered man himself played according to popular belief in -securing the punishment of his murderer, we are enabled more fully to -appreciate the genius of Aeschylus in so handling a superstition which, -like other things primitive in Greek religion, was still venerated by -an age which could discern its grossness, that, without either losing -the religious sympathies of his audience by too wide a departure from -venerable traditions, or offending their artistic taste by too close an -adherence to primitive crudities, he wrought out of that material the -fabric of the greatest of tragedies. - -What we shall find in thus studying anew some of the literature of -the subject is a modification of the grosser elements in the popular -superstition such as the last section has already prepared us to -expect. We saw there how restricted was the use which the tragedians -and others dared to make of the popular belief in corporeal _revenants_ -of any kind; we saw that dramatic propriety absolutely forbade the -introduction of a dead man to play a part otherwise than in the form of -a ghost; and yet more than once we found, especially as the climax of -some imprecation, a verbal allusion to the belief in incorruptibility -and bodily resuscitation. And now similarly we shall see that the -tragedians allowed themselves no greater license in dealing with -_revenants_ in quest of vengeance than in dealing with the more -innocuous sort; we shall see that dramatic propriety forced them to -find some other agency than that of the bodily _revenant_ whereby -the vengeance of Agamemnon upon Clytemnestra, and of Clytemnestra -upon Orestes, might be executed; but we shall find withal that here -again there are a few verbal references to the uprising of the dead -themselves as avengers of their own wrongs, and moreover that, though -in the actual development of the plot they can have no part save -only that of a ghost, and some other avenger is made to act on their -behalf, yet it is they themselves who instigate and urge him to his -task. The bodily activity of the murdered man is suppressed, save for -some few hints, as a thing too gross for representation by tragic art; -but at the same time fidelity to old religious tradition is in a way -maintained by proclaiming his personal, though ghostly, activity in -inciting and even compelling others to avenge him. - -The clearest references to the bodily activity of the murdered -man occur in precisely the same connexion in both Aeschylus and -Sophocles--in a prayer offered by Agamemnon’s children at their dead -father’s tomb. In Sophocles the occasion is that scene in which Electra -rebukes her sister for bearing Clytemnestra’s peace-offerings to -Agamemnon’s tomb--peace-offerings, be it noted, which in themselves -imply that the dead man is still a powerful foe to his murderess--and -bids her instead thereof join with Electra herself in laying a lock of -hair upon the tomb; and then come the notable lines, - - αἰτοῦ δὲ προσπίτνουσα, γῆθεν εὐμενῆ - ἡμῖν ἀρωγὸν αὐτὸν εἰς ἐχθροὺς μολεῖν[1111], - -‘and falling at his tomb beseech thou him to come from out the earth -in his own strength a kindly helper unto us against his foes.’ No one, -I suppose, can misdoubt the emphasis which falls on αὐτὸν, ‘his very -self’; and to the Greek mind the ‘very self’ was not a disembodied -spirit, but a thing of flesh and bones and solid substance. Unless -Sophocles was hinting verbally at that which he durst not represent -dramatically--the resurrection of the dead man in bodily substance as -an avenger of his own wrongs--the word could have had no meaning for -his hearers. - -The parallel passage in Aeschylus comes from the prayer of Orestes and -Electra beside their father’s grave[1112]. ‘O Earth,’ cries Orestes, -‘send up, I pray thee, my father to watch o’er my fight’; and Electra -makes response, ‘O Persephone, grant thou him still his body’s strength -unmarred,’ - - ὦ Περσέφασσα, δὸς δ’ ἔτ’ εὔμορφον κράτος. - -It has been customary among translators and commentators to render -εὔμορφον as if the second half of the compound were negligible; yet I -can find no instance in which the word denotes anything but beauty of -bodily shape. Let Aeschylus’ own usage of it elsewhere be the index of -his meaning here. The Chorus of the _Agamemnon_, musing on the fate -of those who have fallen at Ilium, tell how in place of some there -have been sent home to their kin mere parcels of ashes, ‘while others, -about the walls where they fell, possess sepulchres of Trojan soil, in -comeliness of shape unmarred’--οἱ δ’ αὐτοῦ περὶ τεῖχος θηκὰς Ἰλιάδος -γᾶς εὔμορφοι κατέχουσιν[1113]. My rendering then of εὔμορφον κράτος is -right and cannot be evaded. Aeschylus, like Sophocles in the preceding -passage, lightly yet surely, by the use of a single word, hints at the -popular belief that the murdered man may rise again in bodily form to -wreak his own vengeance. - -Once again then the tragedians have come to our aid in the unravelling -of this superstition. From them we learnt that incorruptibility and -resuscitation were as great a terror to their contemporaries as they -are to the modern peasants of Greece, and that actually the same -imprecations of that calamity were in vogue then as at this day; and -now again we receive from them corroboration of that which the horrible -practice of mutilating a murdered man’s corpse had already revealed, -namely, that some of the dead who returned from their graves were -believed to go to and fro, not in mere vain and pitiable wanderings, -but with the fell purpose of revenging themselves upon their murderers. - -The general tendency however of Greek literature, as we saw in the -last section, was to replace the bodily _revenant_ by a mere ghost. -In many cases the consequences of this literary modification were -comparatively small; the ghost of Polydorus for example can sustain -the part of pleading plaintively for burial no less effectively, -perhaps indeed even more so, than a lusty _revenant_. But the case of -_revenants_ bent upon vengeance was different; the consequences of -substituting a mere spirit were far-reaching; the part to be played -consisted not in piteous words but in stern work; and for this part so -frail and flimsy a creature as the Greeks pictured the ghost to be was -absolutely unfitted. The only means of escaping from this difficulty -was to represent the dead man as employing some instrument or agent -of retribution; and accordingly, where the gross popular superstition -would have had the murdered man emerge from his grave in bodily form -to chase and to slay his murderer, literature in general confined the -dead man to the unseen world and allowed him only to work by less -directly personal means--sometimes by the hands of his next of kin, -in other cases by a curse either automatically operative or executed -by demonic agents. But it is important to observe that, whatever the -means employed, literature cleaves to the old traditions, so far as -artistic taste permits, by conceding to the murdered man the power -of instigating the agents and controlling the instruments of his -vengeance. His power is made spiritual instead of physical; but his -personal activity is still recognised; he remains the prime avenger of -his own wrongs. - -These indirect methods of retribution must now be examined severally. - -As regards the part taken by the next of kin to the murdered man in -furthering the work of vengeance, I find no reason to suppose that -literature deviated in any way from popular tradition. The idea of -the vendetta is essentially primitive and at the same time perfectly -harmonious with the belief that the murdered man is capable of -executing his own revenge. The acknowledged power of the dead man has -never in the minds of the Greek people served as an excuse for his -kinsmen to sit idle; rather it has been an incentive to them to assist -more strenuously in the task of vengeance, lest they themselves also -should fall under the dead man’s displeasure. On this point ancient -lore and modern lore are completely agreed. - -The best exponents of this view at the present day are a people who -can claim to be the most distinctively Hellenic inhabitants of the -Greek mainland. The peninsula which terminates in the headland of -Taenarum is the home of a race which is historically known to be of -more purely Greek descent than the inhabitants of any other district, -and which both in physical type and in social and religious customs -stands apart--the Maniotes. Among their customs is the vendetta, and -the beliefs on which it rests are in brief as follows. A man who has -been murdered cannot rest in his grave until he has been avenged, but -issues forth as a _vrykolakas_ athirst for his enemy’s blood; for, in -Maina, one who has turned _vrykolakas_ for this cause is still credited -with some measure of reasonableness. To secure his bodily dissolution -and repose, it is incumbent upon the next of kin to slay the murderer -or, at the least, some near kinsman of the murderer. Until that be -done, the son (to take the most common instance) lies under his dead -father’s curse; and, if he be so craven or so unfortunate as to find no -opportunity for vengeance, the curse under which he has lived clings to -him still in death, and he too becomes a _vrykolakas_. - -The Maniote doctrine then amounts to this, that the murdered man rises -from his grave to execute his own vengeance, which consists in bringing -upon his murderer the same fate as he himself has suffered through his -enemy’s deed--a violent death and consequently resuscitation; but at -the same time he demands the assistance of his nearest kinsman, under -pain of suffering a like fate hereafter if his efforts in the cause -of vengeance are feeble or fruitless. Thus the belief in powerful and -vindictive _revenants_ forms the very mainspring of the vendetta. - -To this view both Euripides and Aeschylus subscribe in telling the -story of Orestes. In the former we have the answer made by Orestes -himself to the tirade of Tyndareus[1114] against the vendetta: ‘Nay, -if by silence,’ he says, ‘I had consented unto my mother’s deeds, what -would my dead sire have done to me? Would he not have hated me and made -me the sport of Furies? Hath my mother these goddesses at her side to -help her cause, and hath not he that was more despitefully used?’[1115] -Surely no clearer statement could be made of Orestes’ apprehension -that, if he should fail in the duty which his dead father imposed -upon him, the dead man would turn other ministers of his vengeance -upon his cowardly son, to plague him, as if he were an accomplice, -with the same punishment as had been designed for the actual author of -the murder. And similarly in Aeschylus we have the retort of Orestes -to his mother’s last warning before he slays her. ‘Beware,’ she says, -‘the fiends thy mother’s wrath shall rouse’; and he answers, ‘But, an -I flag, how should I ’scape my sire’s?’[1116] Thus according to the -ancient tragedians the vendetta of Orestes was prompted by the same -beliefs and fears as still stir the Maniotes thereto. - -So far then as concerns the vengeance for Agamemnon’s death, ancient -drama added no new element to the popular beliefs, but was able to -satisfy the requirements of art by judicious selection from them. The -idea, to which the Maniotes still cling, that the murdered man in the -form of a _revenant_ avenges his own wrongs, is, save for the rare -verbal allusions which we have noticed, rejected, and forms no part -of the plot; but the belief, that fear of the dead man’s wrath is a -cogent motive to action on the part of his kinsman, is retained. And -here it is interesting to observe that Aeschylus even justifies his -rejection of the first half of the popular doctrine, and that too -by a plea perfectly satisfactory to the popular mind. Agamemnon’s -case was peculiar. Not only had he been murdered, but his dead body -according to Aeschylus, who is followed in this by Sophocles[1117], -had been mutilated (ἐμασχαλίσθη) by his murderers. The effect of such -mutilation, as we have seen, was to render the _revenant_ powerless -to wreak vengeance with his own hands. Hence the work devolving upon -Orestes would have been, in popular esteem, doubled; if murder alone -had been committed, he would have worked in conjunction, as it were, -with the dead man; but the super-added mutilation incapacitated the -dead man for bodily work, and placed the whole burden of retribution -on the shoulders of his son. This, plainly put, is the meaning of the -words spoken by the Chorus in the _Choephori_ to Orestes: ‘Yea, and -he was mutilated, for thou must know the worst. Cruel was she in the -slaying of him, cruel still in the burial, in that she thought to -make his doom a burden past bearing upon thy life[1118].’ Thus it may -be claimed that Aeschylus, in the peculiar conditions of the case -which he here presents, follows unswervingly the popular doctrine. It -is only Euripides who can fairly be said to have really suppressed -anything in this part of the story without troubling to justify himself -by the circumstances of Agamemnon’s fate. But even Euripides, though -he simply ignores in his plot the possibility of Agamemnon’s bodily -resuscitation, is faithful to the doctrine that the next of kin was -actuated in seeking vengeance not by simple piety but by a lively fear -of the dead man’s wrath. - -Moreover, this conception of the relations subsisting between the -murdered man and his nearest kinsman did not merely furnish the _motif_ -of some fine passages of Tragedy; it served also a more prosaic -purpose, and actually formed the basis first of Attic law concerning -blood-guilt, and then of Plato’s Laws in the same connexion. - -At Athens, as is well known, the duty of prosecuting a murderer (or -homicide) was imposed by law upon the nearest relative of the murdered -man. But the obligation was not only legal; it was also, and indeed -primarily, religious. The law did no more than affirm and regulate a -custom which religious tradition had long established. To this fact -Antiphon especially bears witness in certain passages[1119] with which -I must deal more fully later; but the whole tenor of his appeals to the -religious feelings and fears of the jury is strictly in accord with the -Maniote doctrine of the present day, save that in one small point he -takes a more merciful view. In Maina it is held that, if the next of -kin fail to avenge the dead man, no matter to what cause the failure be -due, he falls a prey to the dead man’s wrath. Antiphon on the contrary -asserts that, if the next of kin have honestly done his best to bring -the murderer to justice, he will not be punished for failure therein; -and yet he does not represent the dead man as inactive in such a case, -but dares to threaten the jury that the murdered man’s anger will now -descend, not upon his kinsman who has loyally striven to avenge him, -but upon the jury who, by unjustly acquitting and harbouring[1120] -the murderer, make themselves accomplices in his crime and sharers -in his pollution. This difference of opinion however is of minor -importance, and seems to be almost a necessary result of different -social conditions. In ancient Athens the next of kin was required to -proceed against the murderer by legal means, and not to commit a breach -of law and order by personal violence. In modern Maina the kinsman who -should have recourse to law and call in the police would be accounted a -recreant; public opinion requires him to find an opportunity, openly or -by ambush, of slaying the murderer with his own hand; this is to be his -life’s work, if need be, and the possibility of failure, save through -want of enterprise and energy, is hardly contemplated. But as regards -the main issue, namely the belief that the dead man himself is the -prime avenger of his own wrongs and that his kinsman acts only under -his instigation as an assistant in the work, modern superstition has -the entire support both of the drama and of the law of ancient Athens. - -Further corroboration is perhaps unnecessary; yet Plato’s legislation -in the matter of homicide must not be passed over; for it possesses -this peculiar interest and importance of its own, that it was -confessedly based upon a religious doctrine which Plato esteemed ‘old -even among the traditions of antiquity[1121].’ From what source he -obtained the doctrine he does not definitely say; but, from a mention -of Delphi in the passage immediately preceding as the supreme authority -in all matters of purification from blood-guilt, it may fairly be -surmised that this too is a piece of Delphic lore. At any rate Plato -accepted it as an authoritative pronouncement to which the homicide -must pay due heed. - -‘The doctrine,’ says Plato, ‘is that one who has lived his life in the -spirit of a free man and meets with a violent death is wroth, while -his death is yet recent, against the man who caused it, and when he -sees him going his way in the places where he himself was wont to move, -he strikes[1122] him with the same quaking and terror with which he -himself has been filled by the violence done to him, and in his own -confusion confounds his enemy and all his doings to the utmost of his -power, aided therein by the slayer’s own conscience. And that is why it -is right that the doer of the deed should in deference to the sufferer -withdraw for the full space of the year, and should keep clear of the -whole country which the dead man had frequented as his native land; -and if the dead man be a foreigner the slayer must hold aloof from the -foreigner’s country for the same period. Such then is the law; and, if -a man voluntarily observe it, the dead man’s nearest kinsman, whose -duty it is to look to all this, must respect the slayer, and will -do right to be at peace with him; but, if the slayer disregard this -law and either presume to enter holy places and to sacrifice before -he be purified, or, again, refuse to fulfil the allotted period in -retirement, the nearest of kin must proceed against him on a charge of -homicide, and, if a conviction be obtained, the penalties are to be -doubled. But if the nearest of kin do not seek vengeance for the deed, -it is held that the pollution devolves upon him, and that the sufferer -(i.e. the dead man) turns upon him the suffering (i.e. that which -the homicide himself should have incurred), and anyone who will may -bring a suit against him and obtain a sentence of banishment for five -years[1123].’ - -Now for a right appreciation of this passage it must be borne in mind -that Plato introduces his old tradition _à propos_ of unintentional -homicide. The actual penalties therefore are of a milder nature than -those with which we have hitherto been concerned. Indeed it is not the -difference in the penalties which should cause any surprise, but rather -that an unintentional act should be punished at all; and it would seem -perhaps that in citing this doctrine Plato sought to justify himself -in retaining a provision of Attic law which at first sight appeared -unjust. In Athens[1124], we know, the involuntary homicide was required -not only to undergo purification but to withdraw for a whole year from -the country of the man whom he had slain. The hardship of this was -manifest, and yet Plato acquiesced in the righteousness of it for the -reason apparently that the year’s retirement[1125] was not a penalty -imposed by the state, but a satisfaction which, according to religious -tradition, the dead man demanded and might even himself enforce. - -Plato in fact recognises no less frankly than others the personal -activity of the slain man. He differs indeed in limiting the duration -of that activity, when he says that the dead man’s anger is hot -against the slayer only while his death is still recent, and when by -the provisions of his law he implies that the victim’s desire for -vengeance is fully satisfied by the slayer’s withdrawal for the space -of one year. But this difference is completely explained by the fact -that Plato introduces the tradition in connexion with unintentional -homicide, whereas previously we have had it treated in relation to -wilful murder. Reasonably enough the man who has been accidentally -slain is represented as angry only for a time, while the victim of -deliberate murder nourishes a wrath implacable. The one drives the -author of his misfortune into exile for a year and then repents him -of the evil; the other dogs his enemy with vengeance not only for a -year but throughout his life and even after death; and indeed Plato -himself, when he passes from the subject of involuntary homicide to -that of deliberate murder, proves his recognition of this difference -by his enactments; for, at any rate in the most heinous case, namely -the murder of a near kinsman, he expressly states[1126] that the -old principle ‘as a man hath done, so must he suffer’ admits of no -abatement; the guilty man must die, and his body be left unburied. - -But I must not yet enter upon a discussion of the actual punishments -inflicted. Here I am only concerned to point out how completely Plato’s -‘old doctrine’ harmonises with that which we have learnt from other -sources concerning the personal activity of the dead man. First we read -that the dead man terrifies and confounds the slayer to the utmost of -his power, with the aid of the slayer’s own conscience; and then again -that his next of kin is under an obligation to obtain satisfaction -for him, and is punished by him if he neglects that duty. Clearly the -slayer’s own conscience is no more than an instrument--a somewhat -ineffective instrument, one might think, in a case of unintentional -homicide--and the next of kin is no more than a minister, both of them -employed and directed by the dead man himself. He it is who exacts his -own vengeance. - -The other literary method of mitigating the crude popular belief in a -bodily _revenant_ hunting down his enemy was to treat the murderer’s -punishment as the result of a curse. Such a curse was denoted usually -by the word μήνιμα, which may perhaps be more exactly rendered by -the phrase ‘a manifestation of wrath (μῆνις)’ on the part of some -supernatural being[1127], whether a god or the departed spirit of a -man; when once provoked by deadly sin such as the murder of a kinsman -or refusal of burial, this curse was held to cleave to the tainted -family from generation to generation. - -In the case of blood-guilt, which we are at present considering, the -curse, as was said above, was held either to work spontaneously or to -be executed by some powers of the nether world. The former view is -more rarely adopted, but is clearly enough indicated in one or two -passages of ancient literature. Plato in the _Phaedrus_ speaks of most -grievous sicknesses and sufferings being produced in certain families -as the consequence of ancient curses (παλαιῶν ἐκ μηνιμάτων)[1128]; and -from the reminiscences and verbal echoes of Euripides’ _Orestes_ which -appear in the passage[1129] it is abundantly clear that the particular -family which Plato had in mind was the blood-guilty house of Atreus. -Here then there is no mention of any gods, no suggestion that the curse -was executed by them or in the first instance proceeded from them. -And the negative evidence of Plato’s silence concerning the gods is -turned to certainty by the positive statement of Aeschylus that, if a -son neglect the task of vengeance, ‘betwixt him and the gods’ altars -standeth the unseen barrier of his father’s wrath[1130]’; for if, in -the case of the kinsman who by neglecting the duty of vengeance has -made himself a partaker in the guilt and pollution of the murderer, the -Wrath (μῆνις) by which he is punished both proceeds from the dead man -and, far from needing the gods’ furtherance in order to take effect, -stands as it were on guard to hold the polluted man aloof from their -altars, then surely the Wrath which pursues the murderer himself must -emanate from the same source and possess the same spontaneous efficacy. -The dead man himself then both launches the curse and controls its -course; and probably it was in deference to this doctrine that Plato -formulated his own law, that, even in the case of a father being killed -by his own son, the dying man might with his last breath remit the -curse which such a deed incurred and exempt his son from all except -the purifications and the temporary retirement imposed in cases of -involuntary homicide[1131]. - -But more frequently the execution of the curse is conceived to be -the work of certain powers of the nether world. These powers however -do not act on their own initiative; they are instigated to the task -of vengeance by the murdered man himself. Here, no less than in the -other renderings of the old tradition, the sufferer himself is the -supreme avenger of his own sufferings. The most famous example of this -conception is furnished by the plot of the _Eumenides_. The Furies -are represented as the servants of Clytemnestra, faithful witnesses -to her wrongs, exactors of blood for blood on her behalf[1132]. -When they slumber and allow Orestes to escape the while, her ghost -approaches them in no suppliant manner for all their godhead, but -chides them and urges them afresh, like hounds, upon the quarry’s -trail[1133]. And, most significant of all, there is one passage in -which they say of themselves that the name whereby they are known in -their home beneath the earth is the name of Curses (Ἀραί)[1134]; they -are in fact the personification of those curses which a murdered man -himself directs against his murderer. Nor is this notion confined -to drama. Xenophon is little prone to poetic imaginings; yet he can -find an argument for the immortality of the soul in what he considers -an established fact of human experience, namely, that the spirits -of those who have been unjustly slain inspire terrors in their -murderers’ hearts and ‘send against them’ certain ‘avengers of blood’ -(παλαμναίους ἐπιπέμπουσι[1135]). And elsewhere again and again we hear -of the same avengers under a variety of names--μιάστορες, ἀλάστορες, -προστρόπαιοι--names which will receive consideration later and by their -very meaning and usage will confirm once more my contention that, -by whatever instrument or agency the murder is represented as being -avenged, ancient literature only departed from the primitive belief in -bodily _revenants_ executing their own vengeance at the one point at -which the grossness of popular superstition must have offended educated -sensibilities, and followed the old tradition as faithfully as might be -in conceding to the dead man, if not bodily, yet personal, activity. - -The same popular beliefs, _mutatis mutandis_, probably attached -also to another class of _revenants_, dead men whose bodies had not -received due burial. The necessary modifications of the superstition -would be two in number. First, the anger of the dead man would not -endure for ever, unless his body had been so treated that burial was -no longer possible, but would cease with the performance of that which -he returned to demand; and secondly, he would not be represented -as using for his agent his next of kin, who in most cases of the -kind would be the very person responsible to him for the neglect of -burial. Literature therefore had here no choice of versions; the -bodily re-appearance of the dead man was reckoned too gross an idea; -the employment of his nearest kinsman to act on his behalf became in -this case impossible; a curse was the only expedient. And this is -the expedient which we actually find adopted. In the _Iliad_ Hector -adjures Achilles not to fulfil his threat of throwing his dead body to -the dogs and to the fowls of the air, but to give him burial, ‘lest,’ -he says, ‘I become a cause of the gods’ wrath against thee’--μή τοί -τι θεῶν μήνιμα γένωμαι[1136]--and the self-same phrase is put into -the mouth of Elpenor’s spirit in the _Odyssey_ when he craves due -burial of Odysseus[1137]. The same idea occurs once more in Pindar’s -reference to Phrixus, who bade go unto the halls of Aeetes (for there -in a strange land he had died, and had not received the burial-rites of -his own country) and bring his spirit to rest, and whose bidding Jason -is besought by Pelias to fulfil, for that ‘already doth old age wait -upon me; but with thee the blossom of youth is but burgeoning, and thou -canst put away the wrath of powers beneath[1138].’ In each of these -passages then the actual enforcement of the dead man’s will is by means -of a curse or ‘manifestation of wrath’--for the same word μήνιμα (or -μῆνις) is used; in each case also, as it happens, the curse does not -operate automatically but is executed by gods--the method preferred -also, as we saw, in cases of blood-guilt; but here also, as there, the -personal activity of the dead man is frankly acknowledged; the phrase -of Homer ‘lest I become ...’ and that of Pindar ‘Phrixus doth bid ...’ -clearly suggest that the gods were instigated to intervene by the -sufferer himself. - -The case then stands thus. We learnt in the last chapter that the -unburied dead no less than the murdered were popularly believed to -become _revenants_. We have since learnt that the murdered, in the -capacity of _revenants_, were popularly believed to avenge their own -wrongs with their own hands, but that ancient literature commonly -presents a modified version of that belief according to which the -personal activity indeed of the dead man is recognised, but the -instrument of his vengeance is a curse executed by demonic agents. We -find now that literature assigns also to the unburied dead the same -personal activity in punishing those whose neglect has caused their -suffering, and by the same means. The reasonable inference is that here -too we have a modified version of a popular belief that the unburied, -like the murdered, not only became _revenants_, which we know, but, in -the capacity of _revenants_, themselves punished those who refused or -neglected to render them their due funeral rites. - -Thus the same principle governed the whole system of the punishment -incurred by men who were guilty either of murder or of leaving the -dead unburied--the principle that the dead man whom they had injured -in either of these ways himself requited those injuries. Hence, when -we proceed to examine the actual punishments inflicted, we need no -longer concern ourselves with the fact that literature attributes the -infliction now to the nearest kinsman of the dead man and anon to some -divine avenger; but, whatsoever instrument or agency is employed, we -know that the dead man himself was believed to control and direct -it, and therefore that the punishment thus effected was conceived to -be such as the dead man himself willed and, in popular belief, could -with his own hands enforce. Thus in the _Oresteia_ the punishment of -Clytemnestra is actually effected by Orestes, and again the punishment -of Orestes is entrusted to the Furies; but Orestes is only the minister -of his dead father, carrying out the work of retribution under pain of -incurring the same punishment himself if by inaction he should consent -unto his mother’s crime; and the Furies in like manner are only the -servants of the dead Clytemnestra, instigated by her to their pursuit. -The slaying of Clytemnestra and the sufferings of Orestes are the -punishments which the dead Agamemnon and the dead Clytemnestra, even in -the literary version of the story, impose, and, in a more primitive and -gross form of it, might themselves have inflicted. - -But before examining the nature of those punishments in detail, it -will be well to recall the fact that to the eyes of the ancient -Greeks murder or homicide always presented itself in two distinct -aspects[1139]. Regarded from one point of view, it was the gravest -possible injury to the man who was slain. Viewed from the other, it -was a source of ‘pollution’ (μίασμα, μύσος, ἅγος), an abomination to -the gods and a peril to living men; for the taint of bloodshed was -conceived as a contagious physical malady, which the polluted person -by touch or even by speech[1140] might communicate to his fellow-men, -and not to them only, but to places which he visited, the market, -the harbours, the temples[1141]; nay, even the sanctity of the gods’ -images was not proof against the contamination of his bloodstained -hands[1142]. In brief, the two aspects of homicide were the moral and -the religious aspects; and both moral and religious atonements were -required. The wrong done to the dead man was requited by the sufferings -which he in turn imposed; the pollution, being primarily a state of -religious disability (for it involved, as Plato says[1143], the enmity -of the gods), was removed by a religious ceremony of purification. - -How clearly marked was this distinction in antiquity is evident from -Plato’s laws on homicide, as a brief consideration of two or three -special cases will show. - -First, in the most venial case of homicide, where a man had killed his -own slave, he incurred no punishment at all, but was bound none the -less to get himself purified[1144]. - -Secondly, in cases of the utmost enormity, as where a man wilfully -murdered his father or mother, religion provided no means of -purification. Blood-guilt in general was ‘hard to cure’; but parricide -belonged to the class of sins ‘incurable[1145].’ Such a murderer -therefore must die, for, as Plato says, ‘there is no other kind -of purification’ in this case than the paying of blood for blood. -Religious purification in the ordinary sense of the word was refused, -but the extreme punishment was demanded. - -Thirdly, in the majority of cases of blood-guilt, where both -purification and punishment were required, the two were clearly -independent of each other. The purification of the involuntary -homicide was to precede the year’s retirement[1146]. The religious -ceremony cleansed the man from pollution, but could no more exempt him -from making satisfaction to the dead man whom he had wronged, than -absolution of sin pronounced in the Christian confessional can exempt -from the legal consequences of crime. The Delphic priesthood itself, if -we may trust the testimony of Aeschylus, claimed no more than the power -to cleanse; for Apollo himself, holding Orestes guilty of manslaughter -though not of murder, after granting him religious purification, does -not intervene to save him from that exile which even the unintentional -homicide was bidden by Attic law to undergo; nay, he even acquiesces -in the necessity of Orestes’ flight, bids him not faint before his -wanderings are done, and promises only to set a limit thereto and to -free him from the pursuing Furies in the end[1147]. - -The distinction between the pollution and the injury, and between -the purification and the punishment, being thus clearly recognised, -it is necessary, in investigating the relations between the dead man -and his murderer, to set the purely religious aspect of blood-guilt -on one side, and to treat the punishments inflicted upon the murderer -simply as the settling of an account between man and man. One point -only as regards the pollution need be borne in mind, namely, that -purification was granted to the homicide in the interests of gods and -men whose abodes would otherwise be defiled by his presence, and that -the dead man could not conceivably derive any satisfaction therefrom. -On the contrary, his desire for vengeance would naturally lead him to -interpose ‘the unseen barrier of his wrath’ betwixt the guilty man and -those altars of the gods where alone purification could be won, and -thus to keep his enemy still polluted; for his pollution, just because -it was a peril to his fellowmen, carried with it the punishment of -utter solitude until he was cleansed. When therefore, as will appear -later, the murdered man is described not only as an avenger of his own -wrongs, but as one who strives to keep alive the religious defilement -of the murderer, there is no confusion of the moral and the religious -aspects of murder, but rather the injured man is conceived as wreaking -his vengeance by every possible means, not only directly by the -sufferings which he can personally inflict, but also indirectly by the -privation which the state of pollution necessarily involves. - -The nature of the direct acts of vengeance, which are now to be -examined, can best be learnt from that passage of the _Choephori_ -which depicts the horrible penalties awaiting Orestes if by inaction -he should make himself a consenter to the crime of Clytemnestra. We -have already learnt that in such a case the defaulting kinsman incurred -precisely the same punishment as he should have assisted to inflict on -the actual murderer. That therefore with which Orestes was threatened -was that to which Clytemnestra was already condemned. The punishments -named are those with which, according to popular superstition, a -murdered man, risen in bodily substance from the grave, could requite -his enemy. For no one, I suppose, would suggest that Aeschylus, -who followed popular tradition so scrupulously in all that did not -absolutely conflict with dramatic propriety, invented for himself the -whole scheme of penalties here set forth. That he was bound to modify -the means whereby the punishments were inflicted, in order to avoid -the incongruity of a _revenant_ upon the stage, we already know and -shall see again; but how closely he adhered to the popularly accepted -scheme of punishments, even when he was forced to find some new means -of inflicting them, will incidentally be shown by that detailed -examination to which his list of penalties must now be subjected. - -The first penalty is the physical torment of leprous blains that -consume the body and age the sufferer prematurely. At first we are -inclined to wonder why leprosy is selected by the dead man as his -means of retaliation against his enemy; but a little reflection will -lead us to guess that in this particular act of vengeance Aeschylus -could not actually reproduce the popular doctrine. The common-folk -believed in the bodily activity of the dead; and, if they believed -also that bodily sufferings were part of the punishment which the -murderer incurred, the two beliefs must surely have been correlated; -the physical sufferings of the murderer must have been conceived to be -caused by the physical activity of the murdered; or, to put it more -plainly, if we may elucidate ancient superstition by the aid of modern, -the murdered man, in the form of a _revenant_ bent on vengeance, was -believed to leap upon his victim and rend him with his teeth and suck -out his very life-blood. Clearly Aeschylus could not commit himself to -so crude a presentation of a _revenant_; he could not conjure up before -his audience the spectacle of the dead Agamemnon athirst for actual -blood; but equally clearly he knew that popular superstition, and had -it in his mind when he depicted the horrors of leprosy. For the bodily -assault of a _revenant_ he substituted a natural malady engendered by a -dead man’s unseen wrath; but he described the operation of that malady -in language suggested by the popular presentment of a personal avenger -more reasonable indeed in his purpose but scarcely less ferocious in -his acts than a Slavonic vampire--‘blains that leap upon the flesh -and with savage jaws eat out its erstwhile vigour[1148].’ The means -of inflicting the punishment is changed, but the actual punishment of -the murderer is the same as if it were not leprosy but in very truth -a vampire, which leapt upon him and gnawed his flesh and drained his -life-blood. So faithful is Aeschylus to the crude popular idea of a -retribution which required that he who had spilled another’s blood -should have his own blood drunk by his victim. - -The second penalty is the mental agony of one whom ‘madness and vain -terror sprung of the darkness do shake and confound[1149].’ Here again -the punishment is in strict accord with that law that a man must suffer -as he has wrought. That old tradition recorded and revered by Plato, -on which I have already touched, taught that every man who was slain -by violence was himself filled thereby with quaking and terror and -confusion of spirit, and accordingly sought his revenge in terrifying -and confounding the slayer. No clearer commentary on the lines of -Aeschylus could be desired. Plato explains how the terror and the -confusion--for he employs the selfsame words as Aeschylus--by which the -murderer is overwhelmed are the exact counterpart of the mental anguish -which his violence brought upon his victim. Aeschylus then once -again was following closely an old tradition of the popular religion. -It matters not at all that in this case he names the Erinyes as the -agents, just as previously he made leprosy the instrument, of the dead -man’s vengeance. The actual sufferings which the murderer must undergo -are in this case also identical in character with those which he caused -to his victim. - -The third punishment of the blood-guilty man consists in wandering -friendless and outcast; and this again is no arbitrary invention of -Aeschylus, but was clearly prescribed by that old tradition which, -in Plato’s reckoning, justified the legal imposition of a year’s -retirement even upon those who had shed blood involuntarily. Where -then is that correspondence, which our examination of the first two -penalties has led us to expect, between this third punishment and the -sufferings of the dead man who exacts it? Is there the same nicety -of retribution? Clearly so. The dead man became in popular belief a -_revenant_, a wanderer from out the grave, pitiable in his loneliness, -cut off from all friendly intercourse with living men, not yet admitted -to the fellowship of the departed, the sorriest of outcasts. Such was -the misery to which the murderer by his act of violence had brought his -victim; such therefore too the misery which the murderer himself must -taste in his wanderings and loneliness here on earth, though it were -but a foretaste of more consummate misery hereafter. Truly even in life -the murderer was made to suffer as he had wrought. - -And then comes the fourth penalty, death; for though Aeschylus, in -the list of punishments which we have now before us, touches but -lightly on this, the most obvious form of retribution, yet elsewhere -he repeatedly affirms, and many another re-echoes, the doctrine that -blood cries for blood[1150]. Perhaps in this passage he felt that by -depicting the gnawing pangs of leprosy he had sufficiently proclaimed -the sure approach of death; perhaps he passed it by as a slight thing -in comparison with the horror that yet remained to be told. For death -did not close the tale of punishments; the blood-guilty man, so chant -the Furies, ‘though he be dead is none too free[1151].’ - -And so we pass to the last requirement of vengeance, that the -outcast shall have no friend to honour his dead body with the due -funeral-rites, whereby alone the desired dissolution could be secured, -but is doomed to lie unburied, incorruptible. Such is my interpretation -of the closing lines of the passage before us; and there is no need -to repeat the defence of my contention that the word ταριχευθέντα -must be understood in its literal and proper sense. But it will not -be out of place to note here how, in the _Eumenides_, Aeschylus’ mind -was still pervaded by the same popular belief. The word ταριχεύεσθαι -means, in the literal sense in which I have taken it, to be withheld -from corruption by some process of curing or drying; and, fantastic -though it may seem, it is that process of ‘drying,’ if I may use -the word, which the Furies are charged by Clytemnestra to carry out -against her murderer. Let Aeschylus’ own words prove it. Hear first how -Clytemnestra’s ghost with her last words spurs on the Furies to this -special task: - - σὺ δ’ αἱματηρὸν πνεῦμ’ ἐπουρίσασα τῷ, - ἀτμῷ κατισχναίνουσα, νηδύος πυρὶ, - ἕπου, μάραινε δευτέροις διώγμασιν[1152]. - - ‘Up and pursue! let thy breath lap his blood - With sering reek, as were thy bowels a furnace, - Till he be shrivelled in the redoubled chase.’ - -And the Furies prove by their threats to Orestes that they are not -unmindful of their charge. ‘Nay, in return for the blood thou hast -shed, thou must give me to suck the red juices from thy living limbs. -Thyself must be my meat, my horrid drink.’ ‘Yea, while thou livest, I -will drain thee dry, ere I hale thee ’neath the earth[1153].’ And the -same thought is emphasized yet again in that binding-spell which the -Furies chant to draw him whom they already account their prey from his -vain refuge at Athene’s altar: - - ἐπὶ δὲ τῷ τεθυμένῳ - τόδε μέλος, παρακοπὰ, παραφορὰ φρενοδαλής, - ὕμνος ἐξ Ἐρινύων, - δέσμιος φρενῶν, ἀφόρμικτος, αὐονὰ βροτοῖς[1154]. - - ‘Over our victim thus chant we our spell, - Rocking and wrecking the torturèd soul, - The jubilant song of Avengers, - Fettering the soul with no ’witchments of lute, - A spell as of drought[1155] upon mortals.’ - -Such is the wild, weird refrain of the Furies’ incantation; and in its -closing phrase are re-echoed the closing words of Clytemnestra’s charge. - -Will anyone then venture to say that Aeschylus had no special reason -for thus repeating thrice within the compass of some two hundred lines -the same threat? For the punishment threatened is substantially the -same, though the means of inflicting it vary. Now it is the breath of -the Furies which shall scorch up the victim’s very blood; now it is -their lips that shall suck him dry; now a magic spell to parch and -shrivel him; but ever the effect is the same; the bloodguilty man -shall lie in death a sere and sapless carcase, already ‘damned to -incorruption[1156] even in that doom which wastes all else.’ And the -only reason which I can conceive for the poet’s insistence upon this -thought is that here again, as in all the former punishments, he was -reproducing a popular belief substantially the same then as it is in -Maina now, namely, that the murdered man, having become a _revenant_, -sucked his murderer’s blood and made him also in his turn a _revenant_. - -Nor is Aeschylus the only ancient authority for the idea of some such -retribution after death. Plato, in a passage of the _Phaedrus_ already -cited, contemplates the activity of a murdered man’s wrath (μήνιμα) -not only in the present time but also hereafter[1157]; and in his -_Laws_ there is a provision, not assuredly of his own devising but -dating from the very beginning of Greek legislation, which can only -have been designed to insure the complete vengeance of the murdered -man on his murderer even beyond death. A man convicted of the wilful -murder of a near kinsman[1158] was punishable not only with death but -with a further penalty: ‘the attendants of the jury and the magistrates -having killed him shall cast out his corpse naked at an appointed -cross-roads without the city, and all the magistrates, representing -the whole city, shall take each a stone and cast it upon the head of -the corpse and thereby free the whole city from guilt, and thereafter -they shall carry the corpse to the borders of their land and cast it -out, in accordance with the law, unburied[1159].’ Now the law, we know, -in ordaining the penalty of death, ordained it as a satisfaction of -the murdered man’s claims to vengeance. The State, so to speak, sided -with the dead man and assisted him to exact blood for blood. Again the -stoning of the dead body by representatives of the city was intended, -we are expressly told, to free the whole city from guilt--from guilt, -that is, in the eyes of the murdered man, who might otherwise visit -his wrath upon the city as though it had consented to the crime or had -too lightly punished it. Can it then be supposed that the State was -actuated by any other motive in carrying out the rest of the penalty? -It was surely still in deference to the murdered man’s desires that the -murderer’s corpse was left unburied. To refuse burial was the surest -means of condemning the man to resuscitation and thereby of satisfying -his former victim’s uttermost demands. - -Thus our detailed examination of the Aeschylean catalogue of penalties -establishes beyond doubt that of which we had already had some -evidence, namely, that all the punishments which were inflicted on -the murderer--and, in popular belief, inflicted by the murdered man -on his own behalf--were an exact reproduction of the sufferings which -the murdered man himself had undeservingly endured, and culminated -therefore, as they should, in the blood-guilty man becoming, like his -victim, a _revenant_. - -The main problem then of this section is now fully solved; but -incidentally much light has been thrown upon the character ascribed -by the Greek people in antiquity to those _revenants_ who were not -merely pitiable sufferers but were active in bringing a like doom -upon those who had wronged them. And the character of these Avengers -approximates very closely to that of the modern _vrykolakes_. True, -there is one fundamental difference; the ancient Avenger directed his -wrath solely against the author of his sufferings, or at the most -extended it only to those who, owing to him the duty of furthering his -vengeance, had proved lax and cowardly therein; the modern _vrykolakas_ -is unreasoning in his wrath and plagues indiscriminately all who fall -in his way. But the actual sufferings which the _vrykolakas_ inflicts -are identical with those which furnished Aeschylus with his tale of -threatened horrors. Modern stories there are in plenty, which tell -how the _vrykolakas_ springs upon his victim and rends him and drinks -his blood; how sheer terror of his aspect has driven men mad; how, in -order to escape him, whole families have been driven forth from their -native island to wander in exile[1160]; how death has often been the -issue of his assaults; and how those whom a _vrykolakas_ has slain -become themselves _vrykolakes_. Only his unreasoning and indiscriminate -fury is necessarily of Slavonic origin; his acts are the acts of those -ancient _revenants_ whose own wrongs rightfully made them the Avengers -of blood. Apart from the one Slavonic trait, the characters of the -_vrykolakas_ and the ancient Avenger are identical. - -And perhaps this identity is most clearly seen in the one case in which -the old Avenger punished not only the immediate author of his own -wrongs, but a whole community which had subsequently given the guilty -man an asylum. We have noticed how Antiphon ventured to threaten an -Athenian jury with such punishment at the hands of the dead man if they -wrongfully acquitted his murderer. In the same spirit Aeschylus makes -the Furies, as the agents of the dead Clytemnestra, menace the whole -land of Attica with a venomous curse that shall blast man and beast and -herb in revenge for the wresting of Orestes from their grasp[1161]. -And such too is the dread which in the _Phoenissae_ of Euripides stirs -Creon to make to the blood-guilty Oedipus this appeal: ‘Nay, remove -thee hence: verily ’tis not in scorn that I say this, nor in enmity to -thee, but because of thine Avengers, in fear lest the land suffer some -hurt[1162].’ In such cases the punishments with which a whole community -is threatened, although still a reasonable measure, approach most -nearly to the indiscriminate violence of the modern _vrykolakas_. - -For the fulfilment of such threats as these we must turn to the -_Supplices_ of Aeschylus, and there we shall find a description of just -such a devastation as is said to have been suffered by the inhabitants -of Santorini and many other places in the seventeenth century. The -story of Aeschylus tells how ‘there came unto the Argive land, from -the shore of Naupactus, Apis, son of Apollo, both healer and seer, -and cleansed the land of monsters that destroyed mankind, even of -those that Earth, tainted with the pollutions of blood shed of old, -sent up in wrath to work havoc, fearsome as a dragon-brood to dwell -among[1163].’ What then were these monsters? I will venture to say -that any Greek peasant of to-day, could he but read and understand -the Aeschylean description, would furnish a better commentary upon -those lines than the most learned discourse thereon that any scholar -has written; and his commentary would be summed up in the one word -_vrykolakes_. For, vigorous as the description is, its vigour comes -less of dramatic word-building than of fidelity to the horrors of -popular superstition, and no other single passage could so fully -establish the unity of ancient and modern belief. For while the actual -language contains all the words[1164] which in antiquity were bound -up with the superstition--the ‘pollution’ which comes of bloodshed, -the ‘wrath’ which follows thereon and in which Earth herself is here -made to share, and the ‘sending up’ by Earth of the Avengers--the -thought of the passage is a faithful reflection of what the Greek -peasants still believe, that a violent death is among the chief causes -of resuscitation, that the earth sends up the dead man raging to deal -destruction, and that with others of his kind he consorts and conspires -in veritable dragon-bands; and men still tell of gifted seers and -healers, such as Apis, summoned in hot haste to panic-stricken hamlets -to allay the pest. The κνώδαλα βροτοφθόρα of Aeschylus, ‘the monsters -that destroy mankind,’ are indeed but little removed from the modern -_vrykolakes_. - -Is it not then clear also on what sources Aeschylus drew for his -picture of the Furies themselves? We have seen how, for dramatic -purposes, they were substituted for a _revenant_ wreaking his own -vengeance. Clytemnestra herself in bodily form should have been the -Avenger, if popular superstition had not been in this respect too -gross; but the Erinyes take her place in the actual execution of -vengeance, and she herself appears only as a ghost to instigate them -to their work. But, when that substitution was effected, did not -Aeschylus clearly transfer to the Erinyes the whole character and -even the appearance popularly attributed to the human Avenger? They -are black and loathly to look upon[1165]; their breath is deadly -to approach[1166]; the smell of blood is a joy to them[1167]; they -follow like hounds upon their victim’s trail[1168]; they torment him -both body and soul[1169]; they fasten upon his living limbs and gorge -themselves with his blood[1170]; and if any would harbour him from -their pursuit, the venom of their wrath falls like a plague upon the -land, and devastates it[1171]; they are monsters, κνώδαλα[1172]--and -the recurrence of this word is significant--abhorrent alike to gods -and to men[1173]. The description is surely not that which Aeschylus -would himself have invented for beings who should come afterwards to be -worshipped as ‘revered goddesses,’ σεμναὶ θεαί. The difficulty of that -transition in the play itself cannot but arrest the attention of every -reader; it is a difficulty which even the genius of Aeschylus could not -remove. Why then did he draw so loathsome a portrait of the Erinyes -in the earlier part of the play? Why did he create that difficulty? -The reason, I suggest, was that he followed once more, and this time -almost too faithfully, the popular traditions, and, while he would not -represent a real _revenant_ on the stage, transferred to those demonic -agents, by whom the work of vengeance was vicariously performed, all -the attributes popularly associated with the prototypes of the modern -_vrykolakas_. - -Thus then the history of the modern belief in _vrykolakes_ has been -fully traced. The ancients also believed that for certain causes--the -same causes in the main as are still assigned--men were doomed to -remain incorruptible after death and to rise again in bodily form from -their graves, and that one class of these _revenants_, those namely -who had wrongs of their own to avenge, inflicted upon their enemies -(and upon any who shielded or harboured them) the same sufferings as -are now generally believed to be inflicted in an unreasoning manner -by all classes of _vrykolakes_ alike upon mankind at large, with no -justification, such as a natural desire for vengeance might afford, -in the case of those whose resuscitation is not the outcome of any -injury or neglect at the hands of other men, and with no discrimination -between friend and foe on the part of those who have real wrongs -to avenge. Remove the unreasoning element in the character of the -_vrykolakas_, and the _revenant_ in which the folk of ancient Greece -believed remains. - -But, if they believed in him, they must have called him by some -name. Aeschylus’ phrase κνώδαλα βροτοφθόρα, ‘monsters that destroy -mankind,’ is a description rather than a name. What were the reasonable -_vrykolakes_ of ancient Greece called? That is now the one question -which must be answered in order to make our enquiry complete. - -Briefly my answer is this, that the particular class of _revenants_ -with which the present section has mainly dealt, the Avengers of blood, -were known by three several names, μιάστωρ, ἀλάστωρ, and προστρόπαιος, -but that literature contains no word which could serve as a collective -designation for all classes alike. I hope however to show that the -Greek language was not originally defective in this respect, but that -the term ἀλάστωρ, although regularly used from the fifth century -onwards in the narrow sense of an Avenger, had originally a wider -application and denoted simply a _revenant_. - -Now the interpretation which I give to these three words is not that -which is commonly accepted. Anyone who will turn to a lexicon will -find that to each of the three is assigned a double signification -in connexion with blood-guilt. All three are said to denote either -a god who punishes the blood-guilty or the blood-guilty man who is -punished. Thus a god, it is alleged, may be called μιάστωρ (literally -a ‘polluter’) because he punishes the polluted--a somewhat obvious -misnomer; or again ἀλάστωρ, because he ‘does not forget’ but punishes -the sinner--a derivation which, as I shall show later, cannot be -accepted; or thirdly προστρόπαιος, as the being who was ‘turned to’ -by the murdered man and was besought to avenge his cause--a somewhat -circuitous way for the word to arrive at its active sense of ‘Avenger.’ -And, secondly, a man, it is said, was called μιάστωρ when, being -himself polluted, he was liable to be ‘a polluter’ of other men with -whom he came in contact--a view which is certainly defensible; ἀλάστωρ -as one whose sin ‘could not be forgotten’--an interpretation almost -beyond the pale of serious discussion; and προστρόπαιος because, -being blood-guilty, he ‘turned towards’ some god for purification--an -explanation which may be right--whence the word came to denote in -general a polluted person who still needed purification. - -Thus in my view, as I have indicated, the greater part of the -information in the lexicons with regard to these three words is -inaccurate; and my reasons for disputing the received interpretations -will be set forth point by point as I offer my own interpretations in -their stead. - -In dealing with the first group of meanings assigned to the three -words, by which they came, somehow or other, to be used with the common -active signification of ‘Avenger,’ my main contention will be that, -as regards their primary and strictest usage, all three words were -applied not to gods but to men--men who, having been murdered, sought -to requite their murderers--and were only secondarily extended to the -agents, whether divine or human, to whom those dead men committed the -task of vengeance; but I shall also endeavour to show, as regards the -literal meaning of the three words severally, that the interpretation -by means of which their final sense of ‘Avenger’ has generally been -elicited from them is in each case wrong, and that, in the case of -the word ἀλάστωρ in particular, a right understanding of its original -meaning gives very important results. - -And in dealing with the second group of meanings, by which the three -words are said to denote three only slightly different aspects of -one and the same person--a murderer who is μιάστωρ as polluted and -spreading pollution, ἀλάστωρ as pursued by vengeance, and προστρόπαιος -as still needing purification--I shall maintain that these alleged uses -of the first two words do not exist, and, as regards the third, I will -offer a suggestion, but a suggestion only, as to the means by which it -acquired this signification which it unquestionably bore. - -It will be convenient to deal first with μιάστωρ and ἀλάστωρ as being -parallel in usage throughout, and to reserve προστρόπαιος for later -consideration. - -The clearest example of that which I take to be the original usage -of μιάστωρ is furnished by Euripides. In that scene of mutual -recrimination between Medea and Jason, after that in revenge for her -husband’s faithlessness she has slain their children, there comes -at last from her lips the brutal taunt, as she points to the dead, -‘They live no more: that truth at least will sting thee’; and Jason -answers, ‘Nay, but they live, to wreak vengeance on thy head (σῷ κάρᾳ -μιάστορες)[1174].’ No language could be more simple, more explicit. The -very children who lay there murdered at Medea’s feet, they and none -other should be the _Miastores_, the Avengers of their own foul deaths. - -But of course the word has other applications also. When -Aeschylus[1175] made the Erinyes threaten that even when Orestes should -have fled beneath the earth, he should find another Avenger (μιάστορα) -to plague him in their stead, the whole tenor of the passage compels -us to understand that that other Avenger is some deity or demon of the -nether world--a divine, not a human, _Miastor_, though at the same -time one who will act, like the Erinyes themselves, on behalf of the -murdered Clytemnestra. - -And, yet again, the same term is applied to a living man, when, as -next of kin to him who has been murdered, he is in duty bound to exact -vengeance. This time Sophocles is our authority, and the person of whom -the word is used is Orestes. ‘Oft,’ says Electra to Clytemnestra, ‘oft -hast thou reproached me with saving him to take vengeance upon thee -(σοὶ τρέφειν μιάστορα)[1176].’ - -These three passages then illustrate the threefold application of the -name _Miastor_, and the question to be answered is which represents the -primary usage of the word. To multiply instances of each or any would -be of no avail; the question is not of the frequency of each usage; the -commonest is not necessarily the earliest. How then is the question -to be answered? It is, I think, already answered. We have seen that -in popular belief the murdered man was the prime avenger of his own -wrongs, and that even in literature, when the execution of vengeance -is wholly transferred either to the nearest kinsman or to some demonic -power, the murdered man is still recognised as the principal and -the others are only his agents. It is this relation between them -which settles the question. A principal does not act in the name of -his agents, but the agents in the name of their principal. The name -_Miastor_ therefore belonged first to the dead man himself, and was -only extended afterwards to those who wrought vengeance on his behalf. - -So much for the usage of the word. Next, how did it acquire the -meaning of ‘Avenger,’ which it undoubtedly possessed? This can be -only a matter of opinion. But since it appears to me unscholarly and -illogical to suppose that a word, which on the grounds of formation -must have first meant ‘one who causes pollution,’ could have come to -mean ‘one who punishes pollution,’ I may at least offer an alternative -suggestion. The murdered man, I admit, can hardly be said to have -‘caused’ the pollution of his murderer, or at any rate he could only -have caused it involuntarily. But he might well be regarded as active -in debarring the murderer from the means of purification and in keeping -the pollution, as it were, fresh and virulent, with intent to isolate -his enemy and to ban him from the abodes of his fellow-men. And some -indication of such an activity is afforded by the Erinyes--acting, -as always, on Clytemnestra’s behalf; they refuse to acknowledge the -purification granted by Apollo to Orestes, and they say moreover that -their task is to ‘keep dark and fresh the stain of blood[1177].’ The -murdered man may therefore have been believed, if not actually to cause -and to create, yet at least to promote and to re-create, the pollution -of his foe, and, by keeping the stains of blood as it were from fading -or being cleansed away, to wreak some part of his vengeance. In this -way the transition from the sense of ‘polluter’ to that of ‘avenger’ is -at least, I submit, intelligible. This however is only a side-issue. -The important point is that the word _Miastor_, however it may have -come to mean ‘Avenger,’ was primarily applied to the _revenant_ -himself, and only secondarily to any god. - -The next name to be considered, ἀλάστωρ, is commonly accounted a -synonym of μιάστωρ, denoting in actual usage a ‘god of vengeance,’ -and meaning literally ‘one who does not forget’ blood-guiltiness. I -too hold it to be a synonym of _Miastor_, but to denote therefore -primarily not a god but a human _revenant_ seeking vengeance, and only -afterwards, by a transference of usage, a god or living man acting in -the name of the dead; while, as for the supposed derivation, I count it -absolutely untenable. - -And first as regards the application of the word; after what has -been, I hope, a fairly exhaustive study of the passages of classical -literature in which it occurs, I am bound to confess that, though the -instances of its use are far more numerous than those of _Miastor_, -I am still unable to select three passages and to say ‘Here are my -proofs of the triple application of the word.’ Indeed all that I can -prove by the evidence of any single passage taken alone is curiously -enough the existence of what I take to have been the rarest of the -three usages--the application of the name _Alastor_ to the kinsman of -the dead man, as being the agent of his vengeance. Just as Sophocles -speaks of Orestes being preserved as a _Miastor_ to take vengeance -on Clytemnestra for his father’s death, so does Aeschylus make the -same Orestes name himself an _Alastor_ on the score of the vengeance -which he has taken. ‘Queen Athene,’ he prays, ‘at Loxias’ bidding am -I come; receive thou me graciously, avenger as I am, no murderer, -nor of defiled hand ... ἀλάστορα, οὐ προστρόπαιον, οὐδ’ ἀφοίβαντον -χέρα[1178].’ Such, I am convinced, is the right rendering of the -passage. The lexicons indeed cite the line as an example of the alleged -passive meaning of ἀλάστωρ--one who suffers from divine vengeance, an -accursed wretch[1179]; and I acknowledge that such a meaning would -make passable sense of the passage; for Orestes was indeed suffering -from the vengeance of the Erinyes. But I hold, and I shall endeavour -to prove later, that ἀλάστωρ never possessed a passive meaning, and I -claim moreover that the active meaning of ‘Avenger,’ which I attribute -to the word here as elsewhere, is immensely preferable in itself. For -Orestes throughout pleads justification[1180]; he has avenged murder, -not committed it; he has discharged a duty to his dead sire, not -perpetrated a wanton crime against his mother; he slew her indeed, -but his motive was pious, and the ordaining of his act divine. On the -grounds therefore, first, of the word’s own active meaning, secondly, -of the whole trend of Orestes’ defence of his conduct, and last, but by -no means least, of the exact parallel furnished by Sophocles’ use of -the word _Miastor_, I am confident that _Alastor_ as applied by Orestes -to himself means an ‘Avenger.’ - -That the word however was not primarily applied to the kinsman acting -on behalf of the murdered man will be universally conceded; in the -vast majority of passages some supernatural being is clearly intended. -But it has been too hastily assumed that the supernatural avengers -were always gods or demons; that they were often so conceived I do not -doubt; but, as a matter of fact, I have discovered no single passage of -classical literature which can be said finally and absolutely in itself -to demand that interpretation. In many instances the probabilities are -in favour of the _Alastores_ being regarded as a class of avenging -demons; in many others it is equally good or even better to suppose -that they are the dead men themselves in person. - -What then are the foundations upon which the received notion, that -the _Alastores_ were always gods, is based? It might perhaps be urged -that the word _Alastor_ found a place among the many epithets and -titles conferred by worshippers upon Zeus[1181] in order to indicate -the particular exercise of his all-reaching power which their hearts -desired. It might also be urged that Clement of Alexandria names -the _Alastores_ among those classes of gods whom the pagan Greeks -had evolved from the naughtiness of their own imagination as types -and personifications of the baser human passions[1182]. But neither -of these facts can serve to substantiate the contention that the -_Alastores_ were primarily and necessarily gods. The occasional use -of a word as an epithet of Zeus cannot be held to prove the general -appropriation of that word to a class of lesser gods; while the -statement of Clement is the statement of a man designedly vilifying the -whole Greek religion, neither appreciating nor desirous to appreciate -its refinements, but willing rather to overwhelm it utterly, its better -and its worse elements alike, with the torrent of his invective and -reprobation. To him the _Alastores_ appeared as supernatural beings -instinct with the pagan passion of revenge, false gods therefore -or devils, fit objects whereon to pour out the vials of righteous -wrath and Christian scorn. He was not concerned to be wholly just or -wholly accurate. Indeed the very sources from which he drew the idea -that the _Alastores_ were gods are still open to us; it is the Greek -Tragedians whom he holds guilty of this naughty invention; it is the -Greek Tragedians who remain for us the fountain-head of information -concerning these Avengers, and who will on examination make it clear -that they were not primarily or necessarily gods. - -The single passage in Greek Tragedy which has been often regarded -as evidence in favour of Clement’s classification of _Alastores_ -among gods is on fuller enquiry rather a refutation of that view. In -the _Persae_ of Aeschylus the messenger, who reports to the queen -the disaster which has befallen the Persian fleet, sets it down to -supernatural agency: - - ἦρξεν μὲν ὦ δέσποινα, τοῦ παντὸς κακοῦ - φανεὶς ἀλάστωρ ἢ κακὸς δαίμων ποθέν[1183]. - -This has generally been taken to mean that the beginning of the -disaster was due to the sudden appearance of ‘some vengeful or -malicious deity.’ But elsewhere in Tragedy ἀλάστωρ is treated not as -adjective but as substantive; and, since there is no compulsion to -suppose other than the ordinary use of the word here, it appears better -to translate the phrase ‘some Avenger or some malicious god.’ In other -words the real, if unemphatic, contrast implied in the phrase is not -between ἀλάστωρ and κακός--no contrast is possible there[1184]--but -between ἀλάστωρ and δαίμων. The inference therefore is rather that the -_Alastor_ in this passage was not conceived as a deity. - -There are other passages of Greek Tragedy also in which the balance -of probability seems to me to incline towards interpreting the name -_Alastor_ in the sense of a _revenant_ and not of a god. Two such occur -in the _Medea_ of Euripides--the same play, be it noted, which contains -that perfectly plain statement that the dead children of Medea are -themselves the _Miastores_ who will punish her. The first is in the -scene in which Medea works herself up to the perpetration of her crime. -Passionate love of her children, passionate jealousy and fury against -their father, alternate in tragic turmoil, until the tense agony of -spirit is let loose in that fierce oath, - - ‘No, by the Avengers that lurk deep in hell, - Ne’er shall it come to pass that I should leave - My children to mine enemies’ despite. - Most surely they must die; and since they must, - ’Twas my womb bare them, ’tis my hand shall slay[1185].’ - -Strong and terrible would be the oath even if the _Alastores_, -whose wrath Medea thus defies, were gods or spirits; but the force -and the horror are doubled, if the _Alastores_ here are of the same -order as those whom Jason names _Miastores_ but a little later in the -same drama, and if therefore among those Avengers, in whose name the -murderous oath was sworn, were soon to be numbered those very children -whom Medea loved best and yet bound herself to slay most foully. - -The second passage occurs in Jason’s outburst of fury against Medea -when he first learns her crime. ‘’Tis thine Avenger whom the gods have -let light on me; for truly thou didst slay thine own brother at his -own hearth, or ever thou didst set foot in Argo’s shapely hull[1186].’ -Surely we are meant to understand that the dead Absyrtus is himself -the _Alastor_--for one _Alastor_ only is named this time, and that -too as distinct from the gods (θεοί)--and that Jason diverted to -himself a portion of the dead man’s wrath by wedding the blood-guilty -woman. Again then the interpretation of _Alastor_ in the same sense in -which, only a little later in the same scene, _Miastor_ is undoubtedly -employed is, if not necessary, yet vastly preferable. - -To review here all the passages of Greek Tragedy in which the word may -advantageously be so understood, when at the same time no single one of -them constitutes a final proof of my view, would be to encumber this -enquiry to no purpose; but I may perhaps be permitted to select one -instance from a story of blood-guilt other than that of which Medea is -the centre. - -This shall be from that scene in the _Hercules Furens_ in which the -hero, sane now and overwhelmed with horror at the ghastly slaughter of -his own children which in a moment of sudden madness he had wrought, -receives from Theseus some measure of consolation and advice. Early in -that colloquy, ere yet Theseus has had time to soothe the sufferings or -to guide the course of his stricken friend, Heracles cries to him in -bitterness of soul, - - Theseus, hast view’d my triumph o’er my children? - -and Theseus answers with gentle simplicity, - - I heard, and now I see the woes thou showst me. - -And then follow the lines: - - ΗΡ. τί δῆτά μου κρᾶτ’ ἀνεκάλυψας ἡλίῳ; - ΘΗ. τί δ’ οὐ; μιαίνεις θνητὸς ὢν τὰ τῶν θεῶν; - ΗΡ. φεῦγ’, ὦ ταλαίπωρ’, ἀνόσιον μίασμ’ ἐμόν. - ΘΗ. οὐδεὶς ἀλάστωρ τοῖς φίλοις ἐκ τῶν φίλων[1187]. - - _Her._ Why then hast bared my head before the Sun? - _Thes._ Nay, wherefore not? canst thou--mere man--taint godhead? - _Her._ Yet flee thyself, risk not my taint of blood-guilt. - _Thes._ Where love joins, bloodshed to no vengeance moves. - -It is the connexion and significance of the last two lines which I -wish briefly to discuss. Theseus has used the word ‘taint’ (μιαίνεις), -and Heracles at once seizes on it, emphasizes it, and warns his friend -to begone lest he be contaminated; and then Theseus answers (to give -a literal rendering) ‘No Avenger of blood proceeds from them that -love against them that love.’ What does this mean? The line is often -translated as if Theseus meant, ‘No, I will stay, for though an Avenger -of blood may probably pursue you, Heracles, I have no fear that he will -touch me who love you as a friend[1188].’ A generous and sympathetic -utterance indeed! And how consistent with that fine burst of feeling -with which he had but a moment before refused to be warned away: - - ‘Why warn’st thou me of blood with hand uplift? - In fear lest I be tainted by thy speech? - Nought reck I of ill fortune at thy side - Where once ’twas good; that hour must draw my heart - When thou didst bring me safe from death to light; - Nay, I hate friends whose gratitude grows old, - I hate the man that will enjoy good hap - But will not face foul weather with his friend[1189].’ - -Is this the man whose words, spoken but a moment later, shall be -interpreted to mean, ‘I will not run away, because the danger that -threatens my friend cannot hurt me’? The thought is deeper, more -generous, than that. Theseus is thinking not of himself, but of his -friend. It is the word ‘pollution,’ used first by himself and caught -up by Heracles, which arrests his attention. Was his friend ‘polluted’ -by a deed of blood, wrought in madness, expiated in tears? Polluted? -Yes, in the sense that religious purification was required[1190]. He -cannot deny the pollution. But could the deed also be punished as the -murder of close kinsfolk was wont to be punished? Could the children, -albeit slain by their own father’s hand, desire revenge upon him who -loved them and was loved of them? ‘No,’ he answers boldly, ‘pollution -(μίασμα) there is, but no _Alastor_, no Avenger of blood, can come from -them that love against them that love.’ How then does Theseus picture -the _Alastor_ who, but for the bond of love between the father and his -dead children, would seek vengeance for their death? The phrase which -he uses is ambiguous--perhaps deliberately ambiguous--οὐδεὶς ... ἐκ -τῶν φίλων. It may mean equally well ‘no one of those who love’ or ‘no -one coming from those who love.’ But when the close correspondence of -μίασμα, ‘pollution,’ and ἀλάστωρ ‘avenger,’ is noted in this passage, -and when it is also remembered that the dead children of Medea are -elsewhere plainly named _Miastores_, it is hard to suppose that an -audience familiar with the belief that the dead themselves avenged -their own wrongs would not have interpreted the ambiguous phrase -to mean ‘none of these children shall rise up from the grave as an -_Alastor_, for love is stronger than vengeance.’ - -But such doubt as still remains is set at rest when we turn from the -usage of the word _Alastor_ to its origin and enquire how it obtained -the sense of ‘Avenger.’ What is its derivation? - -Two conjectures seem to have been made by the ancients and are recorded -by early commentators and lexicographers[1191]. The one connects the -word with the root of λανθάνω, ‘I escape notice,’ and extracts a -meaning in a variety of ways, leaving it open to choice, for example, -whether it shall mean a god whose notice nothing escapes or a man -who commits acts which cannot escape some god’s notice. The other -conjecture refers the word to the root of ἀλάομαι, ‘I wander.’ It is -between these two proposed derivations that our choice lies; nor can we -obtain much help from the greatest modern authorities. Curtius[1192] -unhesitatingly adopts the latter, Brugmann[1193] the former, nor does -either of them so much as mention the possibility of the alternative. -I must therefore discuss the question without reference to these -authorities, knowing that, if I run counter to the one, I have the -countenance of the other. - -Is then ἀλάστωρ, in the sense of a ‘non-forgetter,’ a possible -formation from the root of λανθάνω? My own answer to that question -is a decided negative, and my reasons are as follows. Substantives -denoting the agent and formed with the suffix -τωρ (-τορ-) can only be -so formed direct from a verb-stem, as ῥήτωρ from ϝρε or ϝερ appearing -in ἐρῶ etc., μήστωρ from the stem of μήδομαι, ἀφήτωρ answering to the -verb ἀφίημι, ἐπιβήτωρ to ἐπιβαίνω. It is among these and other such -examples that Brugmann places the anomalous ἀλάστωρ, to be connected -with ἄλαστος, λήθω. But evidently, in order that ἀλάστωρ may be -parallel, let us say, to ἀφήτωρ, we must postulate the existence of -an impossible verb ἀ-λήθω or ἀ-λανθάνομαι, ‘I non-forget.’ Nor would -it mend matters to suppose, first, the formation, direct from λήθω, -of a _nomen agentis_ of the form λάστωρ, a ‘forgetter’; for the -privative ἀ- appears only in adjectives and adverbs and in such verbs -and substantives as are formed directly from them, as ἀμνημονεῖν from -ἀμνήμων etc., and cannot be prefixed at pleasure to a substantive -or verb not so formed; ἀλάστωρ could no more be formed from an -hypothetical substantive λάστωρ[1194], than could an hypothetical -verb ἀ-λανθάνεσθαι be formed from λανθάνεσθαι. Etymologically then -the derivation of ἀλάστωρ from ἀ- privative and the root of λήθω is -impossible, and its sense of ‘Avenger’ was not developed from the -meaning ‘one who does not forget.’ - -On the other hand, to the connexion of ἀλάστωρ with the verb ἀλᾶσθαι, -‘to wander,’ no exception can be taken. Not only is the formation -simple, but an exact parallel is forthcoming. As the substantive -μιάστωρ stands to the verb μιαίνω, so does the substantive ἀλάστωρ -stand to a by-form of ἀλάομαι, which is fairly frequent in Tragedy, -ἀλαίνω[1195]. It follows then that ἀλάστωρ meant originally a -‘wanderer.’ - -But, when once that primary meaning is discovered, there can be no -further doubt as to the primary application of the term. Of the three -possible exactors of vengeance--the _revenant_ himself, some demonic -agent, and the nearest kinsman--the first alone could be aptly -described as a ‘wanderer’; moreover we know that the murdered man was -actually so conceived, and that, among the punishments by which he -sought to make his murderer suffer the same lot as he himself endured, -one of the most conspicuous was the punishment of wandering and exile. -The name _Alastor_ therefore, like _Miastor_, denoted first of all the -dead man himself, and was only secondarily extended to human or divine -agents seeking vengeance on his behalf. - -It remains only to enquire how the meaning ‘Avenger’ was evolved from -the meaning ‘Wanderer,’ and so completely superseded it that the name -_Alastores_ was extended to those agents who were in no obvious sense -‘Wanderers’ but simply ‘Avengers.’ - -The first occurrence of the word is in the _Iliad_, as the proper name -of a Greek warrior[1196]. This fact tends to show that the word had as -yet acquired none of that ill-omened sense which it undoubtedly bears -in Greek Tragedy. It was used rather, we may believe, in its original -and literal sense of ‘wanderer,’ and the adoption of such a word as -a proper name is entirely consistent with the principles of Homeric -nomenclature. Hector, Nestor, Mēstor, are famous names of the same -class. - -Otherwise than as a proper name the word is not used in Homer, nor -does it occur at all again, so far as I am aware, before the time -of Aeschylus. It is during this interval then that the evolution of -meaning must have taken place; for by the age of Aeschylus the idea of -vengeance--and vengeance of a horrible kind--had become the ordinary -signification of the word. My view then is that the intervening -centuries had witnessed a gradual differentiation of the several words -which alike originally meant a ‘wanderer,’ a differentiation such that -ἀλήτης remained the ordinary and general term, while ἀλάστωρ was little -by little restricted to the wanderer from the dead, the _revenant_; and -that subsequently from meaning a _revenant_ of any and every kind it -became limited to that single class of _revenants_ whose wanderings -were guided by the desire for revenge--the class to whom the name -_Miastores_ had always belonged. - -Some evidence for the first stage in this development of meaning is -furnished by the Tragic usage of the verb from which the substantive -is derived; for in both its forms, ἀλᾶσθαι and ἀλαίνειν, it continued -to be applied to any of the restless dead, when the substantive -ἀλάστωρ, as I conceive, had come to be appropriated to the Avenger -only. Indeed it might almost be thought that both Aeschylus and -Euripides had an inkling of the derivation and earlier meaning of the -substantive; for while idiom debarred them from using ἀλάστωρ in the -large sense of any _revenant_, they certainly used the corresponding -verb in contexts which suggest that those who thus ‘wander’ were not -imagined by them as vague impalpable ghosts, but possessed for them -rather the real substance and physical traits of a _revenant_. Thus in -the _Eumenides_, though Clytemnestra could not be permitted to play -the part of a _revenant_ and appears only as a ghost, yet the more -gross and popular conception of her is clearly present to the poet’s -mind. Though a ghost, she points to the wounds which her son’s hands -inflicted[1197]; though a ghost, she is made to exhort the Erinyes to -vengeance ‘on behalf of her very soul’ (τῆς ἐμῆς πέρι ψυχῆς)[1198]. -Strange gestures and strange language indeed, if the so-called ghost -had been conceived as a mere disembodied soul! But the popular -conception of the _revenant_ penetrated even here. And was it not the -same conception which suggested the phrase αἰσχρῶς ἀλῶμαι, ‘I wander -in dishonour[1199]’? In the popular belief, as we know, the murderer -was bound to wander after death, suffering as he had wrought; and it -is as a murderess[1200] that Clytemnestra avows herself condemned -to shameful wanderings. ‘To wander,’ ἀλᾶσθαι, sums up the suffering -which the murderer, like his victim, must incur after death. It is -likely then that the name ἀλάστωρ too was originally applied to any -‘wanderer’--whether murderer or murdered--before it acquired the -connotation of vindictiveness and so became appropriated to the latter -only. - -Again Euripides uses the same verb of one whose body has not received -burial. This time there is no connexion with blood-guilt at all, but -the lines are simply the plaint of captive wife for husband slain in -battle: ‘oh beloved, oh husband mine, dead art thou and wanderest -unburied, unwatered with tears’--σὺ μὲν φθίμενος ἀλαίνεις, ἄθαπτος, -ἄνυδρος[1201]. ‘To wander unburied’--could there be a simpler -description of a _revenant_? Does not the whole misery of the unburied -dead consist in this--that they must wander? It is almost inconceivable -then that the name _Alastor_, ‘wanderer,’ should have been originally -applied only to a single class of the wandering dead--to those whose -wanderings were directed towards vengeance, and not also to those whose -wanderings were more aimless, more pitiable, whose whole existence -might have been summed up in that one word ‘wandering.’ At some time -then between the age of Homer and that of Aeschylus _Alastor_, I hold, -meant simply _revenant_. - -How then shall we explain that caprice of language which, according -to this Tragic usage, permitted all the unhappy dead to be said -‘to wander’ (ἀλᾶσθαι, ἀλαίνειν), but apparently forbade them to be -collectively named ‘wanderers’ (ἀλάστορες)? How did _Alastor_ acquire -its sense of ‘Avenger’ and become restricted to one class of _revenant_ -only? - -It might be sufficient answer to point out that those _revenants_ -who were bent on avenging their own wrongs are likely always to have -occupied a prominent place in popular superstition simply because -they inspired most terror in the popular mind; other _revenants_ were -harmless, and, as harmless, liable to be little regarded and seldom -named; and the most conspicuous class might thus have appropriated to -itself the name which properly belonged to all. But there is another -influence which, if it did not cause, may at least have facilitated and -quickened the change--the influence of the word ἄλαστος, ‘unforgotten,’ -which, as I have noted above, was commonly and naturally, in an age -when etymology was not science but guess-work, connected with ἀλάστωρ. -Etymologically the two words have nothing in common; but that is no -obstacle to the supposition that, in their usage, their casual but -close similarity of form rendered the meaning of the one susceptible -to the influence of the other. Nay more, the fact that the two words, -it matters not how erroneously, were actually in early times referred -to a common origin[1202] warrants the suggestion that such influence -had been exercised. Now ἄλαστος always remained in meaning true to -its derivation. Itself employed in the passive sense, ‘unforgotten,’ -it seems to have made over the active meaning, ‘unforgetting,’ -‘vindictive’ (which, on the analogy of ἄπρακτος and a score of similar -forms, it should naturally have possessed), to the apparently kindred -word ἀλάστωρ. This adventitious meaning accorded well with the popular -conception of the most conspicuous class of ‘wanderers’ from the -grave--those whose wanderings had a vindictive aim; and thus, by the -help of the accidental resemblance of two words, it seems to have -come to pass that the term _Alastores_ ceased to be applicable to all -kinds of _revenants_ and denoted only the ‘Avengers.’ At this point -it became in fact synonymous with _Miastores_, and, like that word, -enlarged its scope so as to denote not only the prime Avenger, the -_revenant_ himself, but also any divine or human agents employed by him -as subsidiary Avengers. - -So much then for the first meaning which the lexicons attach to the -words _Alastor_ and _Miastor_; the second interpretation of them, in -relation to a blood-guilty man, may be more briefly treated. _Alastor_ -in this passive sense is alleged to mean a man who suffers from the -vengeance of one who is an _Alastor_ in the active sense; and _Miastor_ -to mean a man who is himself polluted and therefore pollutes those with -whom he associates. - -As regards _Alastor_, this explanation stands already condemned by -the fact that it pre-supposes the derivation from λανθάνομαι, and -even then it does fresh and incredible violence to language; a sane -philologist may commit the error of deriving ἀλάστωρ from λανθάνομαι -and making it mean ‘one who does not forget’; but only the maddest -could dream of interpreting it as ‘one who does deeds which others -do not forget.’ But, if in spite of this we trouble to turn up the -references which the lexicons give under this heading, it is obvious -at once that there is no more support for such a meaning in idiomatic -usage than in etymological origin. Three references are cited. The -first is to that passage of the _Eumenides_ in which Orestes declares -himself ἀλάστορα, οὐ προστρόπαιον[1203], a phrase which means, as I -have already shown, ‘an avenger, not a murderer.’ This then should -be classified as an example of the active, not of the hypothetical -passive, meaning of _Alastor_. Of the other two passages, one is from -the _Ajax_ of Sophocles, where the hero in his anger and despair -speaks of the guileful enemies who robbed him of his prize as -_Alastores_[1204], and the other a passage from Demosthenes in which -he criticizes Aeschines for applying the word as an opprobrious name -to Philip of Macedon[1205]. But in what possible sense could either -Ajax’ enemies or Philip of Macedon be described as ‘suffering from -Avengers’? On the contrary, at the times when the word _Alastor_ was -applied to them, their success should surely have suggested that they -were favoured by heaven, and their opponents rather were the sufferers. -What then was the meaning of the word thus opprobriously employed? -A meaning, I answer, very little removed from that of ‘Avenger’ and -arising out of it. For how was the Avenger--be he the _revenant_ -himself or a demon acting on his behalf--constantly pictured? Was it -not as a fiend tormenting with every torment the object of his wrath, -plaguing him, maddening him, sucking his very blood? Little wonder -then if the justice of that vengeance was sometimes obscured in men’s -minds by their horror of it, and if the word _Alastor_ suggested to -them a fiend, a merciless tormentor. In that sense Ajax might well -apply the name to his enemies, and Aeschines to Philip. Nor are other -instances of it lacking. Demosthenes himself, for all his criticism of -Aeschines’ vulgarity in calling Philip βάρβαρόν τε καὶ ἀλάστορα, ‘a -foreign devil,’ used the same word of Aeschines and his friends[1206]; -again, in Sophocles, the lion of Nemea for the loss and havoc that he -inflicted is unique among beasts that perish in having merited the same -sorry title--βουκόλων ἀλάστωρ, the ‘herdsmen’s Tormentor[1207]’; and -indeed, apart from living men and animals, there are many instances in -Tragedy[1208] in which the word _Alastor_, applied to some supernatural -foe, _revenant_ or demon, may be more appropriately rendered by ‘fiend’ -or ‘tormentor’ than by ‘avenger.’ - -And the same thing is true, I hold, of the word _Miastor_. The -theory of the lexicons, namely, that the word denotes a polluted -and blood-guilty man because such an one is inevitably a ‘polluter’ -of others, is certainly not intrinsically bad; for it recognises the -primary meaning of the word, ‘polluter,’ and bases the secondary -meaning ‘polluted’ upon a right understanding of the old belief that -pollution was contagious. But at the same time it gives some occasion -to wonder why the word should have been diverted from its most natural -meaning in order to denote that which the cognate word μιαρός already -expressed more simply. Moreover, when examination is made of those -passages which are claimed as examples of such an usage, the theory -becomes wholly unnecessary. The two most specious examples are two -passages from Aeschylus[1209] and Euripides[1210], in both of which -the persons called _Miastores_ are Aegisthus and Clytemnestra. Now the -authors of Agamemnon’s death were certainly polluted, and might with -justice have been called μιαροί--that is admitted. But because they -might have been called μιαροί and actually are called μιάστορες, it -does not follow that, though the words have the same root, they also -bear the same meaning. Obviously the word ‘fiends,’ if μιάστορες ever -has that sense, would be an equally apt description of the murderous -pair. The choice therefore between these two renderings here must be -guided by more certain examples of usage elsewhere. - -Two may be selected as eminently clear. In one Orestes calls Helen τὴν -Ἑλλάδος μιάστορα[1211], where the word cannot mean a ‘polluted wretch,’ -for the construction postulates an active meaning in _Miastor_; nor -yet can the phrase be intelligibly rendered ‘the polluter of Greece,’ -for there was no pollution involved in the warfare which Helen had -caused; clearly Orestes means ‘the tormentor of Greece,’ the fiend who -had proved the bane of ships and men and cities. In the other passage -Peleus applies the word to Menelaus: ‘I look upon thee,’ he says, -‘as on the murderer--the fiend-like destroyer (μιάστορ’ ὥς τινα)--of -Achilles[1212].’ Here again _Miastor_ clearly bears an active sense, -and at the same time cannot be rendered ‘polluter.’ Menelaus had -brought upon Achilles not pollution but death, and the word _Miastor_ -explains the word ‘murderer’ (αὐθέντην) which precedes it--explains -that the murder laid to Menelaus’ charge was not the open violence of -a stronger foe, but resembled the death-dealing of some lurking fiend. -In these two passages then the interpretation of _Miastor_ in the sense -of ‘fiend,’ ‘tormentor,’ ‘destroyer,’ is necessary and proven; and, -this being known, common reason bids us read more ambiguous scriptures -in the light thus obtained. There is therefore no call to suppose -that μιάστωρ ever meant ‘polluted’; from the active meaning ‘Avenger’ -it developed, like _Alastor_, the broader sense of ‘Tormentor’ or -‘Fiendish Destroyer’; and these meanings completely satisfy the -conditions of Tragic and other usage of the words. - -There remains the word προστρόπαιος, to which the lexicons, I admit, -rightly ascribe a twofold meaning. It is clearly used both of the -Avenger of blood and also of the blood-guilty person who is seeking -purification. But as regards both the means by which the first -signification was obtained, and the primary application of the word -in that signification, I join issue. The second meaning is more -satisfactorily explained, and my criticism of it will not go beyond an -alternative suggestion. - -The lexicons elucidate the first meaning as follows: _he to whom one -turns_, especially with supplications, θεός or δαίμων προστρόπαιος -the god _to whom the murdered person turns_ for vengeance, hence _an -avenger_, like ἀλάστωρ ... hence also of the _manes_ of murdered -persons, _visiting with vengeance, implacable_. - -The objections to this explanation are obvious. It may well be -questioned whether προστρόπαιος is at all likely to have had any -passive meaning--as it were a person who ‘is turned to’--when the -verb προστρέπω itself was, so far as I can ascertain, never so used; -and further, if a god had really been called προστρόπαιος because the -murdered man turned for vengeance to him, the extension of the term to -the _manes_ of murdered persons must imply a conception of the murdered -man turning for vengeance towards--himself. This is not a little -cumbrous; and for my part I deny the existence of any passive sense of -προστρόπαιος. - -I do however find two senses of the word, the one active, corresponding -to the transitive use of the verb προστρέπειν or προστρέπεσθαι (for the -middle as well as the active voice might be used transitively, as will -shortly appear), the other middle, corresponding to the ordinary usage -of the middle προστρέπεσθαι. Thus the active meaning of προστρόπαιος -will be _turning_ something _towards_ or _against_ someone; the middle -meaning, _turning oneself towards_ someone. - -The active usage is best illustrated by a passage of Aeschines, in -which he accuses Demosthenes of wilful perjury in calumniating him, and -then appeals to the jury in these words--ἐάσετε οὖν τὸν τοιοῦτον αὑτοῦ -προστρόπαιον (μὴ γὰρ δὴ τῆς πόλεως) ἐν ὑμῖν ἀναστρέφεσθαι[1213]; ‘Will -you then allow this perjurer, who has turned upon his own head (for I -pray that it be not on the city) the anger of the gods in whose name he -swore, to continue in your midst?’ Here the very brevity of the Greek, -which I am compelled to expand in translation, proves that Aeschines’ -audience were perfectly familiar with an active meaning of προστρόπαιος -with an evil connotation, ‘turning some misfortune or punishment or -vengeance upon someone.’ - -The middle sense of προστρόπαιος is equally clearly exhibited by -Aeschylus, who in telling the story of Thyestes says that after -his banishment by his brother Atreus he came again προστρόπαιος -ἑστίας[1214], ‘turning himself (as a suppliant) towards the hearth’ -of his father’s home, so that his own life at least was spared out of -respect for the place. - -Thus the two meanings of the word are established, and it remains only -to show how they were specially used in connexion with blood-guilt. - -In the active sense προστρόπαιος was primarily applied, I hold, like -_Miastor_ and _Alastor_, to the murdered man himself, who ‘turned’ -his wrath ‘against’ the murderer, or, if it so happened, against the -next of kin who had failed in his duty of bringing the murderer to -justice. It is precisely thus that Plato uses the verb προστρέπεσθαι -in recording the old tradition in which he apparently reposed so much -faith as to base his own laws upon it. ‘If the nearest of kin,’ so -runs the passage, ‘do not seek vengeance for the deed, it is held -that the pollution devolves upon him, and that _the sufferer_ (i.e. -the dead man) _turns upon him the suffering_ (i.e. that which the -homicide himself should have incurred), and anyone who will may bring -a suit against him, etc.[1215]’ The words which I have italicised are -in the Greek τοῦ παθόντος προστρεπομένου τὴν πάθην, where the middle -presumably was preferred to the active because the sufferings which -the dead man inflicts are, as we already know and as the language of -the particular phrase itself suggests, exactly those which he himself -suffers. This usage of the verb, though it is distinctly rare and -probably a technicality of religion or law, is so perfectly clear -in this one example[1216], that there should be no hesitation about -understanding the cognate word προστρόπαιος in the same sense. And -indeed one lexicographer, Photius, shows that he did so understand -it; for he tells us that Zeus was sometimes invoked under this title, -as turning against murderers the pollution (including perhaps the -punishments) of their crime: Ζεὺς ... προστρόπαιος, ὁ προστρέπων τὸ -ἄγος αὐτοῖς (sc. τοῖς παλαμναίοις)[1217]--such are his actual words, -and this time of course the verb is rightly in the active, for Zeus -is in no way personally concerned but acts only in the interests of -the dead man. Clearly then it was in virtue of this active meaning -that προστρόπαιος came to be practically a synonym of _Miastor_ and -_Alastor_ in the sense of an Avenger of blood. - -Once more then we return to the same question which has been propounded -and answered with regard to those two other names--to whom was the term -προστρόπαιος primarily applied? - -I find the application of it more restricted than that of the other two -words. It was used of the dead man himself, and it was used of demons -avenging his cause; but it was never used[1218] of the next of kin in -the character of avenger--and that for the very good reason that when -the word was applied to a living man it bore an entirely different -meaning, which has yet to be discussed, the meaning of ‘blood-guilty.’ - -A few examples of each usage must be given. Both Antiphon and Aeschylus -apply the word to murdered men; Antiphon, in a speech in which the -kinsman, who has, as in duty bound, undertaken the prosecution of the -murderer, claims that, if the jury wrongfully acquit, the dead man -will not become προστρόπαιος, an Avenger, against his kinsmen who have -done their best in his service, but will visit his anger on the jury -for condoning and thereby sharing the blood-guilt[1219]; Aeschylus, -in that list of penalties which has been discussed, when he depicts -the ‘madness and vain terror,’ which will befall Orestes if he fail in -his task, as an arrow that flieth in darkness sped by powers of hell -‘at the behest of fallen kindred that turn their vengeance upon him’ -(ἐκ προστροπαίων ἐν γένει πεπτωκότων[1220]). But equally clearly in -other passages the Avenger indicated is not the murdered man, but some -divine being. Antiphon again is an authority for this usage. Twice, -in a context similar to that which has just been noticed, he speaks -not of the murdered man himself becoming an Avenger, but of certain -divine powers--whom he also calls ἀλιτήριοι, the powers that deal with -sin--acting as Avengers (προστρόπαιοι) of the dead[1221]. And similarly -in later time Pausanias also speaks of ‘the pollution (μίασμα) incurred -by Pelops and of the Avenger (προστρόπαιος) of Myrtilus[1222].’ - -Since then there is no question but that the word προστρόπαιος was -actually applied both to dead men and to gods, to which of the two did -it refer primarily? We already know the answer. The dead man himself, -as a _revenant_, was the prime and proper Avenger of his own wrongs; -demons of vengeance acted only in his name, as his subordinates and -agents. To him therefore the name primarily belonged. And even if -we had not already learnt this from other sources, the passage of -Aeschylus, to which I have just referred, might well guide us to the -same conclusion. The arrow that flieth in darkness is sped indeed, he -says, ‘by powers of hell’ (τῶν ἐνερτέρων)--the demonic agents of the -dead--but ‘at the behest of fallen kindred.’ The activity both of the -principal and of the agent is recognised in the same passage, and -either might have been called προστρόπαιος: but, because the activity -of both was plainly asserted, Aeschylus reserved the name for the one -to whom it primarily belonged, the murdered man, who turns his wrath, -who turns indeed those powers of hell who execute his wrath, against -his enemies. - -There now remains for consideration only the second meaning of -προστρόπαιος; how could a word, which in reference to dead men or to -deities meant ‘an Avenger of blood,’ bear, in relation to living men, -the sense of ‘blood-guilty’? Very likely the dictionaries are right -in accepting the explanation of this use which Hesychius[1223] and -others give. We have seen one case[1224] in which the word clearly -has a middle sense ‘turning oneself towards’ a place or a person in -supplication; and there is no difficulty in supposing that the word was -used technically in the same sense of a blood-guilty man who turned -to some god or to some sanctuary in quest of purification. This, I -say, is very probably the right explanation. But I may perhaps offer -an alternative explanation which I do not count preferable but merely -possible. The active meaning of προστρόπαιος, ‘turning something upon -someone,’ might conceivably have produced this sense of ‘blood-guilty’ -as well as the other sense ‘an Avenger of blood.’ As the dead man was -held to turn something, namely his wrath, against his enemy, so might -the murderer have been pictured as trying to turn something, namely the -pollution which he had incurred, upon some object and so to cleanse -himself therefrom. Now the chief feature in the Delphic ceremony of -purification was the slaying of a sucking-pig[1225]. This may of course -have been merely a propitiatory sacrifice; but it is possible also that -the animal was really a surrogate victim for the murderer himself, -that by laying his polluted hand on its head he transferred the -religious uncleanness from himself to it, and that, by the subsequent -slaughter of the now blood-guilty animal, he vicariously satisfied the -old law that blood could only be washed out by blood. This is only a -conjecture, and I leave others to judge of its probability; but, if the -ceremony had followed the lines which I have suggested, it is easily -intelligible that, in the technical language of religion, the murderer -who sought to turn his own pollution upon the victim might have been -called προστρόπαιος. - -Thus then the problem of the ancient nomenclature of _revenants_ -is solved, and the results are briefly these: all _revenants_ were -originally called ἀλάστορες, ‘Wanderers’; but subsequently that name -was restricted only to the vengeful class of _revenants_, to which the -names μιάστορες and προστρόπαιοι had always belonged; and for the more -harmless and purely pitiable _revenants_ no name remained, but men said -of such an one simply, ‘He wanders.’ - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[959] Heard by me from a fisherman of Myconos. - -[960] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. pp. 573 and 593. - -[961] The list of dialectic forms compiled by Bern. Schmidt (_das -Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 158) comprises, besides that which -I have adopted as in my experience the most general, the following: -βουρκόλακας, βρουκόλακας, βουρκούλακας, βουλκόλακας, βουθρόλακας, -βουρδόλακας, βορβόλακας. To these may be added βαρβάλακας from Syme -(Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 601), βουρδούλακας, from Cythnos (Βάλληνδας, -Κυθνιακά, p. 125), and an occasional diminutive form such as βρυκολάκι. -The κ is often doubled in spelling. - -[962] A plural in -οι, -ους, with accent either paroxytone or -proparoxytone, also occurs. - -[963] _De quorumdam Graecorum opinationibus_, cap. 12 sqq. - -[964] ὁποῦ τὸν ἐγνώριζε προτίτερα, leg. ἐγνώριζαν. - -[965] For these memorial services (μνημόσυνα) and the appropriate -funeral-meats (κόλλυβα) see below, pp. 534 ff. - -[966] The reference given by Allatius is to _Turco-Grecia_, Bk 8, but I -cannot find the passage. - -[967] With this description compare a phrase used in a recent -Athenian account of a _vrykolakas_, σὰν τουλοῦμι, ‘like a (distended) -wine-skin,’ Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 575. - -[968] See p. 339. - -[969] _Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable a Sant-Erini -Isle de l’Archipel, depuis l’établissement des Peres de la compagnie de -Jesus en icelle_ (Paris, MDCLVII.), cap. XV. pp. 208-226. - -[970] In many places at the present day it is believed that -_vrykolakes_ (and sometimes other supernatural beings) cannot cross -salt water. Hence to bury (not burn) the corpse in an island is often -held sufficient. - -[971] Some modern authorities state that Turks are believed to be -more subject to become _vrykolakes_ than Christians. Schmidt (_Das -Volksleben_, p. 162) appears to me to overstate this point of view, -which I should judge to be rarer and more local than its contrary. Even -where found, it is unimportant, being a mere invention of priestcraft -for purposes of intimidation. See below, pp. 400 and 409. - -[972] Evidently a local form of τουμπί (= τύμπανον, cf. Du Cange, _Med. -et infim. Graec._, s.v. τυμπανίτης), with metathesis of the nasal. Cf. -the word τυμπανιαῖος above. - -[973] To this phrase I return later. - -[974] leg. ἄσπρος. - -[975] _Histoire nouvelle des anciens ducs et autres souverains de -l’Archipel_, pp. 255-6 (Paris, 1699). - -[976] _Voyage du Levant_, I. pp. 158 ff. (Lyon, 1717). Cf. also -Salonis, _Voyage à Tine_ (Paris, 1809), translated by Δ. Μ. Μαυρομαρᾶς, -as Ἱστορία τῆς Τήνου, pp. 105 ff. - -[977] Paul Lucas, _Voyage du Levant_ (la Haye, 1705), vol. II. pp. -209-210. - -[978] Cf. Tournefort, _Voyage du Levant_, I. p. 164 (Lyon, 1717). - -[979] Ἀντών. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 125. - -[980] Γρηγ. Παπαδοπετράκης, Ἱστορία τῶν Σφακίων, pp. 72-3. - -[981] The writer points out in a note the correspondence of the number -of priests who assemble for τὸ εὐχέλαιον, the anointing of the sick -with oil. - -[982] The Cretan word used throughout this passage is καταχαν-ᾶς (plur. --ᾶδες), on which see below, p. 382. - -[983] διπλοσαραντίσῃ. I have given what I take to be the meaning of a -popular word otherwise unknown to me. - -[984] Ᾱντ. Μηλιαράκης, Ὑπομνήματα περιγραφικὰ τῶν Κυκλάδων -νήσων.--Ἄνδρος, Κέως, p. 56. - -[985] Good examples may be found in Bern. Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc., no. -7, and Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 590 sqq. - -[986] _The Cyclades_, p. 299. - -[987] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 577. - -[988] _Ibid._, p. 578. - -[989] In Scyros and in Cythnos, as I have noted above, this means of -riddance has given place to milder remedies. But in the former I heard -of fairly recent cases of vampirism, and in the latter, according to -Βάλληνδας (Κυθνιακά, p. 125), the names of several persons (including -one woman) who became _vrykolakes_ are still remembered. - -[990] Communicated to me by word of mouth in Maina. - -[991] ἑορτοπιάσματα (see above, p. 208), who are commonly regarded as -subject to lycanthropy in life and continue the same predatory habits -as vampires after death. - -[992] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 162 (from Aráchova). - -[993] This belief belongs chiefly, in my experience, to the Cyclades. - -[994] Curt. Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 117 (from -Elis). - -[995] _Ibid._ p. 114 (from Elis). Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 162 -(Parnassus district). Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 578 (Calávryta). - -[996] _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 170. - -[997] This derivation is reviewed and rejected by Bern. Schmidt, _Das -Volksleben_ etc., p. 158. - -[998] Cf. Miklosich, _Etym. Wörterbuch d. Slav. Spr._, p. 380, s.v. -*velkŭ, Old Slav., vlъkъ, _wolf_.... - -Old Slav., vlЪkodlakЪ; Slovenian, volkodlak, vukodlak, vulkodlak; -Bulg., vrЪkolak; Kr., vukodlak; Serb., vukodlak; Cz., vlkodlak; Pol., -wilkodłak; Little Russian, vołkołak; White Russian, vołkołak; Russian, -volkulakЪ; Roum. ve̥lkolak, ve̥rkolak; Alb., vurvolak; cf. Lith., -vilkakis. - -‘Der vlЪkodlak ist der Werwolf der Deutschen, woraus m. Lat. guerulfus, -mannwolf, der in Wolfgestalt gespenstisch umgehende Mann.’ The second -half of the compound is less certainly identified with _dlaka_, Old -Slav., New Slav., Serb., = ‘hair’ (of cow or horse). - -I am indebted for this note to the kindness of Mr E. H. Minns, of -Pembroke College, Cambridge. It will be found to corroborate the view -pronounced by B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 159. - -[999] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 160 (with -note 1). - -[1000] Ralston, _Songs of the Russian people_, p. 409. - -[1001] Whether this word is originally Slavonic appears to be -uncertain, but it is at any rate found in all Slavonic languages and is -proved by the forms which it has assumed to have been in use there for -fully a thousand years. This note also I owe to my friend, Mr Minns. - -[1002] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 217. - -[1003] _Das Volksleben d. Neugr._ p. 159. - -[1004] _Ibid._ note 2. - -[1005] Mannhardt’s _Zeitschrift f. d. Mythol. und Sittenk._ IV. 195. - -[1006] _Les Slaves de Turquie_, I. p. 69 (Paris, 1844). - -[1007] Cf. above, p. 183. - -[1008] Cf. pp. 183 and 208. - -[1009] In Chios at the present day the word _vrykolakas_ is in general -usage, except that in the village of Pyrgi, owing to a confusion of -_vrykolakes_ and _callicantzari_, a local name of the latter is applied -also to the former. Cf. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 367, and see -above p. 193. - -[1010] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 125. The two words are given in -the neuter plural τυμπανιαῖα and ἄλυτα, as equivalents of the word -_vrykolakas_ which, in the form βουρδούλακκας, is also employed. - -[1011] The periodical Πανδώρα, vol. 12, no. 278, p. 335 and vol. 13, -no. 308, p. 505, cited by Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 160. - -[1012] Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 160, referring to Φιλίστωρ (periodical), -III. p. 539; Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 574. - -[1013] Πολίτης, _ibid._ - -[1014] Cf. above, p. 277. - -[1015] Βάλληνδας in Ἐφημερὶς τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1861, p. 1828. Schmidt -interprets the word as ‘der Aufhockende,’ one who sits upon and crushes -his victims, a habit sometimes ascribed to _vrykolakes_, but more -often to _callicantzari_. My own interpretation has the support of -many popular stories, in which, when the exhumation of a _vrykolakas_ -takes place, he is found sitting up in his tomb. See e.g. Πολίτης, -Παραδόσεις, I. p. 590. - -[1016] Cf. Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, p. 27 (Athens, 1842); Γρηγ. -Παπαδοπετράκης, Ἱστορία τῶν Σφακίων, pp. 72-3. - -[1017] _Op. cit._ p. 160. - -[1018] Ἄτακτα, II. p. 114. - -[1019] _Os hians, dentes candidi_, cf. above, p. 367. - -[1020] The word is mentioned by Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in -the Levant_, I. p. 212. I have been unable to obtain any more recent -information. - -[1021] Τὸ Θανατικὸν τῆς Ῥόδου (_The Black Death of Rhodes_), ll. 267 -and 579, published in Wagner’s _Medieval Greek Texts_, I. p. 179 (from -Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 160, note 4). - -[1022] I have shown above (pp. 239 ff.) that in certain districts the -word λυκάνθρωπος was superseded by a new Greek compound λυκοκάντζαρος; -but this new term was probably always confined, as it now is, to -the vocabulary of a few districts only, while the Slavonic word -_vrykolakas_ enjoyed a wider vogue. - -[1023] See above, p. 378. - -[1024] I quote my authority only for choice specimens which I have not -myself heard. Variations may be found in almost any work bearing on -popular speech or belief. - -[1025] Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας, II. 123 (from Crete). - -[1026] _Ibid._ - -[1027] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 199 (from Sinasos in Asia Minor). - -[1028] Christophorus Angelus, _De statu hodiernorum Graecorum_, cap. 25. - -[1029] Cf. above, p. 370. - -[1030] In the details of my account of this custom I follow Βάλληνδας, -Κυθνιακά, pp. 113-114. But it prevails also in substantially the same -form in many places besides Cythnos. - -[1031] I have been at some pains to make wide enquiries on this point, -but have found no example. - -[1032] The version which I translate is No. 517 in Passow’s _Popularia -Carmina Graec. recent._ - -[1033] Prof. Πολίτης has collected seventeen in a monograph entitled -Τὸ δημοτικὸν ἅσμα περὶ τοῦ νεκροῦ ἀδελφοῦ (originally published in the -Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας). - -[1034] Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 43 (Version No. 4, ll. 18, 19). - -[1035] The periodical Πανδώρα, 1862, vol. 13, p. 367 ( Πολίτης, _op. -cit._ p. 66, no. 17, ll. 19, 20). - -[1036] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 164 (from Sinasos in Asia Minor). - -[1037] I make this statement with as full confidence as can be felt in -any such negation, after perusing nearly a score of versions. - -[1038] See above, p. 368. - -[1039] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 589. - -[1040] _Ibid._ p. 591. - -[1041] Goar, _Eucholog._ p. 685. - -[1042] Cf. Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graecorum opinat._ XIII. Balsamon, -I. 569 (Migne). _Epist. S. Niconis_, quoted by Balsamon, II. p. 1096 -(ed. Paris, 1620). Christophorus Angelus, cap. 25. - -[1043] S. Matthew xviii. 18. - -[1044] The power of excommunicating belonged to priests as well as -to bishops, but they might not exercise it without their bishop’s -sanction. Cf. Balsamon, I. 27 and 569 (Migne). - -[1045] Quoted by Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opinat._ XIII. and XIV. - -[1046] The reversal of the decree of excommunication by the same person -who had pronounced it was always preferred, largely as a precaution -against an excommunicated person obtaining absolution too easily. Cf. -Balsamon, I. 64-5 and 437 (Migne). - -[1047] _op. cit._ cap. XV. Cf. also Christophorus Angelus, Ἐγχειρίδιον -περὶ τῆς καταστάσεως τῶν σήμερον εὑρισκομένων Ἑλλήνων (Cambridge, -1619), cap. 25, where is told the story of a bishop who was -excommunicated by a council of his peers, and whose body remained -‘bound, like iron, for a hundred years,’ when a second council of -bishops at the same place pronounced absolution and immediately the -body ‘turned to dust.’ - -[1048] According to Georgius Fehlavius, p. 539 (§ 422) of his edition -of Christophorus Angelus, _De statu hodiernorum Graecorum_ (Lipsiae, -1676), Emanuel Malaxus was the writer of a work entitled _Historia -Patriarcharum Constantinopolitanorum_, which I have not been able to -discover. It was apparently used by Crusius for his _Turco-Grecia_; for -the story here told is narrated by him in two versions (I. 56 and II. -32, pp. 27 and 133 ed. Basle) and he alludes also (p. 151) to a story -concerning Arsenios, Bishop of Monemvasia, which likewise according to -Fehlavius (_l.c._) was narrated by Malaxus. - -[1049] See below, p. 409. - -[1050] Christophorus Angelus (_op. cit._ cap. 25) vouches for the early -use of this word by one Cassianus, whom he describes as Ἕλλην παλαιὸς -ἱστορικός. I cannot identify this author. - -[1051] Du Cange, _Med. et infim. Graec._, s.v. τυμπανίτης. - -[1052] Christophorus Angelus, _l.c._ - -[1053] Matthew xviii. 18. - -[1054] John xx. 23. - -[1055] See above, p. 365. - -[1056] The word μνημόσυνα, which I have rendered with verbal -correctness ‘memorial services,’ really implies more, and corresponds -to a mass for the repose of the dead. - -[1057] Anastasius Sinaita, in Migne’s _Patrologia Gr.-Lat._, vol. 89, -279-280. - -[1058] i.e. the πνευματικοί, as they were called, the more discreet -and ‘spiritual’ priests who alone were authorised by their bishops to -discharge this function. Cf. Christophorus Angelus, _op. cit._ cap. 22. - -[1059] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 335 and 339. - -[1060] On this symbol see above, pp. 112 f. - -[1061] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in the Levant_, I. p. 212 -(1865). (Cf. B. Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 164.) - -[1062] Cf. Christophorus Angelus, _op. cit._ cap. 25 (init.). - -[1063] _I. Cor._ v. 5 and _I. Tim._ i. 20. - -[1064] Theodoretus, on _I. Cor._ v. 5 (Migne, _Patrologia Gr.-Lat._, -vol. 82, 261). - -[1065] Aesch. _Choeph._, 432-3. - -[1066] Paus. IX. 32. 6. - -[1067] _Philopseudes_, cap. 29. - -[1068] See above, p. 208. - -[1069] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 576. - -[1070] Ralston, _Songs of the Russian people_, p. 412. - -[1071] Mirabilia, cap. I. - -[1072] By ‘seer’ I render μάντις, a man directly inspired; by ‘diviner’ -οἰωνοσκόπος, one who is skilled in the science of interpreting signs -and omens. - -[1073] _Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable a Sant-Erini -etc._, p. 213. He calls Philinnion a Thessalian girl, and makes -Machates come from Macedonia. But his reference to the story contains -a patent inaccuracy (for he speaks of the girl being buried a second -time, whereas she was burnt), and in all probability he was quoting -from memory, not from a more complete text than that now preserved. - -[1074] See Pashley, _Travels in Crete_, II. p. 221; Carnarvon, -_Reminiscences of Athens and the Morea_, p. 162; Schmidt, _das -Volksleben_, p. 165; Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. pp. 589, 591 and 593; -Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 125. - -[1075] Alardus Gazaeus, _Commentary on_ Ioh. Cassianus, _Collatio_, -VIII. 21 (Migne, _Patrologia_, Ser. I. vol. 49). - -[1076] On ‘striges’ see above, pp. 179 ff. - -[1077] On this word see above, p. 288. - -[1078] _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 170, with note 1. - -[1079] _Philopseudes_, cap. 26. - -[1080] Ar. _Eccles._, 1072-3. - -[1081] See above, pp. 387-91. - -[1082] Eur. _Or._, 1086. - -[1083] Eur. _Hipp._, 1038. - -[1084] Soph. _O. C._, 1383 ff. - -[1085] Soph. _O. C._, 1405. - -[1086] 261-297. - -[1087] Aesch. _Choeph._, 287-8. - -[1088] Κατὰ Ἀριστογείτονος, I. p. 788. συμπεπτωκότος is a necessary -correction of the ἐμπεπτωκότος of the MSS. - -[1089] Cf. l. 366 μιαίνεται. - -[1090] Aesch. _Suppl._, 407 ff. - -[1091] Aesch. _Eum._, 173 ff. reading ἄλλον μιάστορ’ ἐξ ἐμοῦ. - -[1092] See above, p. 398. - -[1093] _Works and Days_, 325 ff. - -[1094] See above, p. 397. - -[1095] See above, p. 370. - -[1096] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 69 ff. - -[1097] Hom. _Od._ XI. 51 ff. - -[1098] Eur. _Hec._ 1-58. - -[1099] Aesch. _Eum._ 94 ff. It must be observed, however, that -Clytemnestra’s restlessness is represented as being due to her being a -murderess quite as much as to her having been violently slain. There -was a double cause. See below, p. 474. - -[1100] cap. 29. - -[1101] Other references are given by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 169, -among them Servius on Virg. _Aen._, IV. 386 and Heliod. _Aethiop._, II. -5. - -[1102] Certain hints however are to be found, on which see below, pp. -438-9. - -[1103] Aesch. _Choeph._ 480 ff. - -[1104] See below, pp. 438-9. - -[1105] p. 81 C, D. - -[1106] _Iliad_ XXIII. 65 ff. - -[1107] Eurip. _Hecuba_ 1 ff. - -[1108] τοῦ ὁρατοῦ as opposed to τοῦ ἀειδοῦς τε καὶ Ἅιδου. - -[1109] See above, pp. 110 ff. - -[1110] See above, p. 340. - -[1111] Soph. _El._ 453-4. - -[1112] Aesch. _Choeph._ 480-1. - -[1113] Aesch. _Ag._ 455. - -[1114] Eur. _Or._ 491-541. - -[1115] _Ibid._ 580 ff. - -[1116] Aesch. _Choeph._ 924-5. Cf. also 293. - -[1117] Soph. _El._ 445. - -[1118] Aesch. _Choeph._ 439 ff. - -[1119] Antiphon, pp. 119, 125, and 126. - -[1120] Cf. below, p. 459. - -[1121] Plato, _Leges_, 865 D, παλαιόν τινα τῶν ἀρχαίων μύθων. - -[1122] The word δειμαίνει, which in this passage seems clearly -transitive, is perhaps a verbal reminiscence of the old language in -which Plato had heard the tradition. - -[1123] Plato, _Leges_, 865 D ff. - -[1124] Cf. Demosth., _in Aristocr._, pp. 634 and 643. - -[1125] The word technically used of this withdrawal without formal -sentence of banishment was ἀπενιαυτεῖν, or simply ἐξιέναι (cf. -ὑπεξελθεῖν τῷ παθόντι in the above passage of Plato), or, as again in -the same passage, ἀποξενοῦσθαι; whereas legal banishment was denoted by -φεύγειν. - -[1126] Plato, _Leges_, 872 D ff. - -[1127] In early Greek, as witness the first line of the _Iliad_, the -use of μῆνις, was less restricted than in later times; but the word, -μήνιμα even in Homer occurs only, I think, in the phrase μήνιμα θεῶν. -See below, p. 449. - -[1128] Plato, _Phaedrus_, § 49, p. 244 D. - -[1129] Cf. especially Eur. _Or._ 281-2, as pointed out by Bekker in his -note on Plato, _Phaedrus_, _l.c._ - -[1130] Aesch. _Choeph._ 293. - -[1131] Plato, _Leges_, 869 A (Bekker’s text); cf. also 869 E. - -[1132] See Aesch. _Eum._ 101 and 317 ff.; cf. Eur. _Or._ 583. - -[1133] _Ibid._ 94-139. - -[1134] _Ibid._ 417. - -[1135] Xenoph. _Cyrop._ VIII. 7, 18. - -[1136] Hom. _Il._ XXII. 358. - -[1137] Hom. _Od._ XI. 73. - -[1138] Pind. _Pyth._ IV. 280 ff. - -[1139] Cf. Plato, _Leges_, IX. _passim_, and especially p. 871. - -[1140] Cf. Aesch. _Eum._ 285 and 448 ff. - -[1141] Plato, _Leges_, 868 A and 871 A. - -[1142] Cf. Aesch. _Eum._ 445. - -[1143] Plato, _Leges_, 871 B. - -[1144] _Ibid._ 865 C. - -[1145] Cf. Plato, _Leges_, p. 854 A, δυσίατα καὶ ἀνίατα. - -[1146] Cf. Plato, _Leges_, 866-874, _passim_. - -[1147] Aesch. _Eum._ 74 ff. - -[1148] Aesch. _Choeph._ 280-1. - -[1149] Aesch. _Choeph._ 288-9. - -[1150] Cf. especially Aesch. _Choeph._ 400 ff. - -[1151] Aesch. _Eum._ 336, θανὼν δ’ οὐκ ἄγαν ἐλεύθερος. - -[1152] Aesch. _Eum._ 137-9. - -[1153] _Ibid._ 264-7. - -[1154] _Ibid._ 328 ff., and again 343 ff. - -[1155] This rendering of the word αὐονά has been challenged, but has -the support of the Scholiast who explains it by the words ὁ ξηραίνων -τοὺς βροτούς, (the hymn) which dries and withers men. - -[1156] The tense of ταριχευθέντα in the phrase from which I started -(_Choeph._ 296) is hereby explained. - -[1157] Plato, _Phaedrus_, 244 E, πρός τε τὸν παρόντα καὶ τὸν ἔπειτα -χρόνον. - -[1158] Plato’s list is ‘father, mother, brother, sister, or child,’ -_Leges_, IX. 873 A. - -[1159] Plato, _Leges_, IX. 873 B. - -[1160] Cf. especially Tournefort, _Voyage du Levant_, I. p. 163, who -was an eye-witness of such an occurrence in Myconos. - -[1161] Cf. Aesch. _Eumen._ 780 ff., and (for the withdrawal of the -curse) 938 ff. - -[1162] Eur. _Phoen._ 1592 ff. The word here translated ‘avengers’ is -ἀλάστορες, which is fully discussed below, pp. 465 ff. - -[1163] Aesch. _Suppl._ 262 ff., reading in 266 μηνιτὴ δάκη, the -emendation of Porson. - -[1164] _l.c._ 265-6, μιάσμασιν ... μηνιτή ... ἀνῆκε. - -[1165] Aesch. _Eum._ 52. - -[1166] Aesch. _Eum._ 53, 137-9. - -[1167] _Ibid._ 254. - -[1168] _Ibid._ 75, 111, 131, 246-7. - -[1169] _passim._ - -[1170] 183-4, 264. - -[1171] _Ibid._ 780 ff., 938 ff. - -[1172] _Ibid._ 644. - -[1173] _Ibid._ 70, 73, 644. - -[1174] Eur. _Med._ 1370. - -[1175] Aesch. _Eum._ 177. - -[1176] Soph. _El._ 603. - -[1177] Aesch. _Eum._ 349, reading μαυροῦμεν νέον αἷμα. - -[1178] Aesch. _Eum._ 236. - -[1179] L. and S. s.v. - -[1180] Cf. Aesch. _Choeph._ 1026 ff., and _Eumen._ _passim_. - -[1181] Cf. Preller, _Griech. Mythol._, I. p. 145 (edit. 4, Carl Robert). - -[1182] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ II. § 26. - -[1183] Aesch. _Pers._ 353. - -[1184] This fact is recognised by Geddes in his edition of the -_Phaedo_, in the course of his note (p. 280 ff.) on the difficulty -concerning the words ἢ λόγου θείου τινὸς in cap. 33 (p. 85 D). He does -not however infer that the words really contrasted are ἀλάστωρ and -δαίμων, but claims for the particle ἢ an epexegetic sense (‘or, in -other words,’) besides its usual disjunctive sense (‘or else’). I am -far from being satisfied that the epexegetic use of ἢ existed at all -in Classical Greek, which idiomatically employed καὶ in that way. At -any rate its existence is not proved by the other passages which Geddes -cites--Aesch. _Pers._ 430 and Soph. _Phil._ 934--where the ἢ perhaps -equals _vel_ rather than _aut_, but has none of the epexegetic sense of -_sive_. - -[1185] Eur. _Med._ 1059 ff. - -[1186] Eur. _Med._ 1333 ff. - -[1187] Eur. _H. F._ 1229 ff. - -[1188] Cf. Paley, in his note to elucidate this dialogue. It should be -added however that in a second note on the same page, dealing with this -line only, he apparently contradicts his previous explanation. - -[1189] Eur. _H. F._ 1218 ff. - -[1190] Cf. 1324. - -[1191] See Eustath. on _Il._ IV. 295. - -[1192] _Gk Etymol._ 547. - -[1193] _Vergleichende Grammatik_, II. § 122. - -[1194] The nearest parallel could only be the dubious form ἀδώτης in -Hesiod, _W. and D._, 353. But that form, if correct, is probably best -treated as adjective (giftless) not as substantive (non-giver). - -[1195] I am indebted to Mr P. Giles, of Emmanuel College, for pointing -out to me that the analogy with μιάστωρ is mentioned in the last -edition of Meyer’s _Griechische Philologie_. - -[1196] Hom. _Il._ IV. 295, Ἀμφὶ μέγαν Πελάγοντα, Ἀλάστορά τε, Χρόμιόν -τε. The hiatus in the third foot has been made the basis of a -suggestion, to which Mr P. Giles has kindly called my attention, that -ἀλάστωρ should begin with a digamma. There is however no need for the -supposition, since hiatus after the trochaic caesura is not infrequent -(e.g. _Il._ I. 569) and some license is generally allowed in any case -in the metrical treatment of proper names; moreover, in _Il._ VIII. -333, we have a line δῖος Ἀλάστωρ which makes against the original -existence of a digamma in the word. - -[1197] Aesch. _Eum._ 103. - -[1198] Aesch. _Eum._ 114. - -[1199] Aesch. _Eum._ 98. - -[1200] This is distinctly stated in the passage, though of course her -own violent death might equally well have been given as a cause of -‘wandering.’ - -[1201] Eur. _Tro._ 1023. - -[1202] Cf. Plutarch, _de defect. orac._, cap. 15 (p. 418). - -[1203] Aesch. _Eum._ 236, cf. above, p. 466. - -[1204] Soph. _Ajax_, 373. - -[1205] Demosth. _de Falsa Legat._, p. 438, 28. - -[1206] Demosth. _de Corona_, § 296, p. 324. - -[1207] Soph. _Trach._ 1092. - -[1208] e.g. Eur. _Iph. in Aul._ 878; _Phoen._ 1550; _El._ 979; _Or._ -1668. - -[1209] _Choeph._ 928. - -[1210] _Electra_, 677. - -[1211] Eur. _Or._ 1584. - -[1212] Eur. _Andr._ 614. - -[1213] Aeschines, _De falsa legatione_, § 168 (p. 49). Cf. § 162 (p. -48). - -[1214] Aeschylus, _Agam._ 1587. - -[1215] Plato, _Leges_, IX. p. 866 B, cf. above, p. 445. - -[1216] So far as I can discover, it is a solitary example of the use -in Classical Greek; but I very strongly suspect that in Antiphon, p. -127 (init.), προστρέψομαι should be read instead of προστρίψομαι. A -man accused of murder is saying, ἀδίκως μὲν γὰρ ἀπολυθεὶς, διὰ τὸ μὴ -ὀρθῶς διδαχθῆναι ὑμᾶς ἀποφυγὼν, τοῦ μὴ διδάξαντος καὶ οὐχ ὑμέτερον τὸν -προστρόπαιον τοῦ ἀποθανόντος καταστήσω· μὴ ὀρθῶς δὲ καταληφθεὶς ὑφ’ -ὑμῶν, ὑμῖν καὶ οὐ τούτῳ τὸ μήνιμα τῶν ἀλιτηρίων προστρίψομαι. The sense -is, ‘If I were really guilty of this murder and yet owing to the feeble -case presented by the prosecutor I were acquitted by you, my escape -would bring the Avenger of the dead man upon the prosecutor and not on -you; whereas, if you condemn me wrongly when I am innocent, it will be -on you and not on him that I, after death, shall turn the wrath of the -Avengers.’ Clearly προστρέψομαι is required to answer προστρόπαιον, and -it could have no more natural object than τὸ μήνιμα, the special word -denoting the wrath which follows on bloodguilt. - -[1217] Photius, s.v. παλαμναῖος. - -[1218] I venture upon this emphatic negation, not so much because I -have found no such usage in my reading of Greek literature, as because -the line of the _Eumenides_ in which Orestes calls himself ἀλάστορα, οὐ -προστρόπαιον, would be hopelessly ambiguous if such an usage had been -possible. - -[1219] Antiphon, 119. 6. - -[1220] Aesch. _Choeph._ 287. - -[1221] Antiphon, 125. 32 and 126. 39. - -[1222] Pausan. II. 18. 2. - -[1223] Hesychius, s.v. προστρόπαιος. - -[1224] Aesch. _Agam._ 1587; see above, p. 480. - -[1225] Cf. Aesch. _Eum._ 283 and 450. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -CREMATION AND INHUMATION. - - -The discussion of those abnormal cases of after-death existence, to -which the last chapter has been devoted, has disclosed to us the fact -that in all ages of Greece the condition most to be dreaded by the -dead has been incorruptibility and the boon most to be desired a sure -and quick dissolution; and that of the two methods by which the living -might promote the disintegration of the dead, cremation and inhumation, -the former alone has been accounted infallible. What benefit in the -future existence was in old time thought to accrue to those whose -bodies had been duly dissolved, and to be withheld from _revenants_, -is a question which may conveniently be adjourned for a while. First -we must verify the results obtained from the study of the abnormal -by consideration of the normal; we must see whether ordinary funeral -usage has had for its sole object the dissolution of the dead in the -interests of the dead; and what, if any, distinction has been made -between inhumation and cremation as a means of securing that object. - -Now diverse methods of disposing of the dead, especially among a -primitive folk, would naturally suggest diverse religious purposes to -be served thereby, diverse conceptions of the future estate of the -dead, or of their future abode, or of their future relations with -the living; and for my part I do not doubt that, if our eyes could -pierce the darkness of a long distant past which neither history nor -even archaeology has illumined, we should see that the peoples who -first used cremation and inhumation side by side in Greece were in so -doing animated by diverse religious sentiments. But I hold also that -in no period of which we have any cognisance have the Greeks regarded -inhumation and cremation as means to different religious ends; but -that, whichever funeral-method has been employed, one and the same -immediate object has always been kept in view, the dissolution of the -dead body, and one and the same motive (save in the quite exceptional -circumstances where a scare of _vrykolakes_ has temporarily arisen) has -always prompted the mourners thereto, the motive of benefiting the dead. - -But, while the object in view was single and constant, there would -have been no inconsistency in making a certain distinction between -the two methods available. On the contrary, if the sole object was -the disintegration of the dead body, the surer and quicker means of -attaining it should logically have been preferred. Cremation therefore -might legitimately have been reckoned a superior rite to inhumation; -for it cannot but have been recognised that the disintegration of the -body is more rapidly and unfailingly effected by the action of fire -than by the action of the soil. - -It is true indeed that the solvent action of the earth upon the buried -body--even with all due allowance for the absence of any coffin in many -cases--is popularly regarded as far more rapid than it can actually -be. The period usually reckoned by the common-folk as the limit of -time requisite for complete dissolution is forty days. This is stated -clearly enough in a few lines of a song of lamentation heard in -Zacynthos: - - καὶ μέσ’ ’στὸ σαραντοήμερο ἀρμοὺς ἀρμοὺς χωρίζουν, - πέφτουνε τὰ ξανθὰ μαλλιὰ, βγαίνουν τὰ μαύρα μάτια, - καὶ χώρια πάει τὸ κορμὶ καὶ χώρια τὸ κεφάλι[1226]. - - ‘And within the forty days, they (the dead) are severed joint from - joint, their bright hair falls away, their dark eyes fall out, and - asunder go trunk and head.’ - -The Zacynthian muse is horribly explicit; its utterances need no -interpreter; itself rather gives the true interpretation of certain -customs which are wide-spread in modern Greece and appear to date from -pre-Christian days. - -The fortieth day after death is almost universally observed in Greece -as one on which the relations of the deceased should provide a memorial -feast. There are indeed other fixed days for the like commemoration -and ‘forgiveness[1227]’ of the dead, but these all fall at periods -of three, or a multiple of three, days, weeks, months, or years, from -the date of death. These, I think, have been selected in deference to -the mysterious virtue of the number three[1228], and not improbably -multiplied by the importunities of a penurious priesthood, to whom some -half-dozen hearty meals in the course of the year do not appear an -inappropriate remuneration for their services at death-bed and burial. -But the fortieth day was originally devoted to this purpose, it may -reasonably be supposed, because it was the last opportunity of setting -before the dead man’s neighbours and acquaintances savoury meat such -as their soul loved, that they might eat thereof and ‘loose’ the dead -man from any curse wherewith in his lifetime they had bound him; if -dissolution was not to be retarded, the fortieth day was in popular -reckoning the last opportunity for absolution. - -From this it should follow that any memorial feasts held later[1229] -than the fortieth day are of purely ecclesiastical contrivance; and -the correctness of this inference is attested by a curious local usage -which clearly distinguishes the popular and the ecclesiastical feasts. -At Sinasos in Asia Minor two classes of commemorations are recognised. -The one is called κανίσκια, ‘little baskets,’ from the method in which -food is distributed to the poor; this is held on the fortieth day. The -other has usurped the name μνημόσυνα, which commonly belongs to all -memorial-feasts, and is held on the three anniversaries of the death -(for, after the third, exhumation generally takes place, and no further -memorial-feasts are needed) and consists in the presentation of an -ornamental dish of boiled wheat (κόλλυβα) at the church and the reading -of a service[1230]. In other words, the fortieth day is the popular -festival, and the observances of later dates are ecclesiastical. -Clearly the reason for this distinction must lie in the fact that the -common-folk believe, as the song from Zacynthos shows, that dissolution -is normally complete by the fortieth day, while the Church has -prudently fixed the date, after which exhumation is permissible, at the -end of the third year. Presumably then a period of forty days was the -old pagan period, for which the Church has tried, with partial success, -to substitute three years. - -Several other small pieces of evidence point to the wide distribution -of this popular notion. In Sinasos[1231], once more, and also in -Patmos[1232], the fees paid to the priests for memorial services derive -their name from the word ‘forty’ (σαράντα), as if the fortieth day were -the limit; after that date, apparently, though my authorities are not -explicit on the point, the priests have for their remuneration only the -dish of boiled wheat or other presents in kind. In Crete, if a dead -man is suspected of turning _vrykolakas_ soon after his death, the -people are anxious to deal with him before he enters upon his second -period of forty days[1233]; for then all hope of natural dissolution -is past, and he becomes as it were a confirmed vampire. In Scyros, the -old custom of burning such corpses as were found on exhumation at the -end of three years (or, in case of a panic, earlier) to be still whole, -and were therefore suspected of vampire-like proclivities, has been -replaced by the milder expedient of carrying the body round to forty -churches in turn and then re-interring it, in the hope, as it seems, -that each of the forty saints, whose sanctuaries have been honoured -with a visit and a certain consumption of candles, will in return take -a proportionate share in ‘loosing’ the suppliant dead--or, it may be, -in the more mathematical expectation that the work effected in cases of -ordinary burial by one funeral-service in forty days, will be achieved -by forty funeral-services in one day. Whichever be the calculation on -which the practice has been based, the number of churches to be visited -is clearly governed by the number of days requisite, in popular belief, -for ordinary dissolution. - -But with all this reputed rapidity of the earth in ‘loosing’ the dead -bodies committed to her care, the action of fire is incontrovertibly -more rapid. In hours, not in days, may be counted the period of -disintegration on the pyre. And as it is quicker, so also is it far -surer. No body that has been burned can wander as a _revenant_ over -the earth, while for the buried there is no perfect assurance of -dissolution. Some curse, some crime, the violence of their death, or -the deficiency of their funeral rites, each and all of these may keep -their bodies ‘bound’ and indissoluble. Cremation then is indisputably -in theory the preferable means of securing to the dead that boon which -they most desire; and I hold that in the practice of the Greek people -there are signs that this preference was felt. - -There are then two propositions to be established by reference to the -actual funeral methods of Ancient and Modern Greece; first, that from -the earliest ages of which we have cognisance cremation and inhumation -have been identical in their religious purpose; second, that a -preference for cremation, considered as a means to the single religious -end, has been manifested. - -The first thing needful in this twofold investigation is to understand -the terms, which are to be used, in the sense in which the Greek -understood them. Cremation means to us the consumption of the corpse by -fire; inhumation the laying of the corpse out of sight in the earth; -and unless one or other of those acts had been really performed, we -should not consider that a funeral had taken place. But the Greeks -judged rather by the intention than by the act. In certain cases, in -which the actual digging of a grave was impossible, ancient usage -prescribed a ceremonial substitute. The sprinkling of a handful of -dust over a dead body was held to constitute burial. Such was all the -funeral that Antigone could give to Polynices[1234]; such the minimum -of burial enjoined by Attic Law on any who chanced upon a dead body -lying unburied[1235]; such, according to Aelian, ‘the fulfilment of -some mysterious law of piety imposed by Nature’ not only upon man but -even on some of the brute creation, in such sort that the elephant, if -he find one of his own kind dead, gathers up some earth in his trunk -and sprinkles it over the prostrate carcase[1236]. ‘The fulfilment of -some mysterious law of piety’--Aelian’s phrase accurately summarises -the Greek view of burial. To us it is a necessary and decent method of -disposing of the dead. To the Greeks it was something more--a provision -for their dimly discerned welfare; and the intention of the living -mattered so much more than the performance, that, in cases where real -burial could not be given, a mere ceremony suggestive of burial was -considered competent to ensure the same end. - -Again in the case of a man drowned at sea or having met his death -in any way which precluded the possibility of his body being brought -home for burial, a means has always been found for fulfilling ‘the -mysterious law of piety.’ Still, as in old time, the cenotaph serves -the same end as the real sepulchre. A lay-figure, dressed if possible -in some clothes of the dead man, receives on his behalf the full rite -of burial[1237]; and if enquiry be made, to what purpose this empty -ceremony, the answer is not slow in coming, γιὰ νὰ λυωθῇ ὁ πεθαμένος, -‘to the end that the dead man may be dissolved’; nor can I doubt that -the same formal rite in old time served the same end. - -And let no practical-minded critic here interpose the objection that -a dead body lying unburied, exposed to sun and rain, must decompose -at least as rapidly as one that has been buried; I have myself tried -the effect of that criticism on the Greek peasants with instructive -results. Once my suggestion was promptly met with a flat and honest -denial--the most simple and final of answers, for, be it remembered, it -is with the honest beliefs of the peasant, and not with physical facts, -that we are dealing. Another time there was a pause, and then came the -deliberate answer, βρωμάει τὸ κορμὶ, δὲν λυώνεται, ‘the corpse becomes -putrid, but is not “loosed”.’ There was a distinction in the peasant’s -mind between natural decomposition and the dissolution effected by a -religious rite. But more often it has been pointed out to me that my -apparently reasonable suggestion was really unpractical; a dead body -left unburied would never suffer natural decay, but would be a prey to -the beasts of the field and the fowls of the air; the vultures circling -yonder overhead convicted me of unreason. And the answer could not -but recall the threats of Achilles against Hector, or the fears of -Antigone for Polynices, that dogs and carrion-birds should feast upon -the corpse. So then it is perhaps a logical as well as an honest belief -which the Greeks have always held, that dissolution of the body is -afforded by one of two rites and by no third means. - -Now one of these rites, inhumation, might on occasion be reduced to -a mere ceremonial observance, the scattering of a handful of dust -over the body, or the interment of an effigy in its stead. Was the -other rite, cremation, ever so reduced? Could the roar and crackle of -the blazing pyre be ceremonially replaced by a small flame lighted -in proximity to the dead body? Did the kindling of a fire, however -incapable of consuming the dead body, constitute cremation in the -same sense that a handful of earth, incapable of concealing the dead -body, constituted interment? _Prima facie_ there is nothing wild in -the supposition; it is consistent with the Greek conception of the -funeral-rite, which looked rather to the intention than to the act; -the proven fact of ceremonial inhumation guarantees the likelihood of -ceremonial cremation. I take it therefore as a working hypothesis, and -base its subsequent claim to be accepted as a fact on its ability to -explain consistently a long series of phenomena in Greek funeral usage. - -My first proposition, that from the earliest ages of which we have -cognisance cremation and inhumation have served the same religious -end, would have had an initial obstacle to surmount but for Professor -Ridgeway’s work on the ethnology of early Greece. Diverse methods of -disposing of the dead would at first sight, as I have said, suggest -diverse conceptions of after-death existence. But Professor Ridgeway -has shown conclusively, to my mind, that inhumation was the rite of -the autochthonous Pelasgian people of Greece, and that cremation was -introduced by the Achaean immigrants[1238]. Now it is improbable of -course that these two peoples, when they first came into contact, held -similar views concerning the hereafter. But the entry of the Achaean -element was, according to all evidence, a long process of infiltration -rather than a sudden invasion. The beginnings of it are conjecturally -placed well back in the third millennium before Christ[1239]. There was -ample time therefore, even before the later Mycenaean or the Homeric -age, for differences of religious sentiment as between the two races to -dwindle or to vanish, while the two rites of cremation and inhumation, -with the inveteracy of all custom, still survived. - -Thus there is no initial objection to the view that in any period -known to us those who used cremation and those who used inhumation -were animated by the same religious ideas; and at the same time I -am relieved of the necessity of combating both the old theory that -cremation was adopted by the Greeks as a convenient substitute for -inhumation during some period of migration or nomadic life, and Rohde’s -more recent theory[1240] that fear of the spirits of the dead, which -were believed to hover about graves where their bodies lay buried, led -men to adopt cremation as a means of annihilating the body and thereby -ridding themselves of the unwelcome spirit. Both those theories fail, -apart from certain intrinsic defects, because they are attempts to -explain a thing which never took place--a supposed substitution of -cremation for inhumation between the Mycenaean and the Homeric ages. -Professor Ridgeway has shown that the Mycenaean rite was that of the -Pelasgians; the Homeric rite that of the Achaeans. It is an accident -only that our earliest information respecting the two rites happens to -be drawn from different periods of time; the real distinction between -the two was a racial distinction; from the age when the Achaeans first -entered Greece down to the Christian era cremation and inhumation were -both continuously practised. - -The positive evidence for my view that these two rites were mere racial -survivals, which had already, in the earliest ages known to us, ceased -to differ in religious import, is to be found not only in the fact -that in historical times, or even earlier, the two rites were used -side by side by the people of a single city in the same cemetery, but -in an early tendency to fuse the two rites into one and to give to the -same body the double treatment of cremation and inhumation combined; -for clearly the only condition under which two such rites could be -amalgamated must have been that there had ceased to be any conflict of -religious significance between them. - -How early this fusion began it is difficult to determine; but it is at -least worth while to note a point which is apt to be overlooked, that -the Homeric funeral-rite comprised inhumation. Cremation certainly -was the main part of the rite, the actual means by which the corpse -was disintegrated; but the funeral was not complete until the ashes -had been collected and inhumed[1241]. This is an act of ceremonial -inhumation just as much as the burial of an effigy dressed in a dead -man’s clothes. - -Moreover it is possible that the Mycenaean funeral-rite sometimes -comprised an act of ceremonial cremation. To review here the -archaeological evidence for some use of fire in Mycenaean graves -is unnecessary; it will suffice to quote from the summary given -by Rohde[1242] as the basis of his theory--to which I by no means -assent--that a vigorous ‘soul-cult,’ involving propitiatory offerings -to the dead, was a religious feature of that age. ‘Traces of smoke, -remnants of ash and charcoal, point to the fact that the dead bodies -were laid on the spot where were burnt those offerings to the dead -which had previously been made in the tomb.... On the ground, or -sometimes on a specially prepared bed of flints, the offerings were -burnt, and then, when the fire had gone out, the bodies were laid on -top and covered over with sand, lime, and stones.’ - -Now the fact that in Mycenaean graves gifts were actually consumed -by fire while the corpse was left to the process of natural decay is -indisputable; but, if the fire employed had no further purpose, the -practice of the Mycenaean age would be unique. The custom of all later -ages was to treat the corpse and the gifts alike, to burn both or to -bury both. This is implied in ancient literature[1243], and confirmed -by modern excavations; for funeral-urns seldom contain any remnants of -gifts; which means that the gifts had been consumed on the pyre with -the body, but that only the bones were collected and stored in the urn; -whereas in graves the gifts are constantly found buried with the body -and intact. Further the custom of burning both body and gifts is the -old Achaean custom, as described by Homer in the funeral of Patroclus; -and it would seem probable that the custom of interring both body and -gifts intact was the original Pelasgian custom. Was then the use of -fire in these Mycenaean graves the first step in the fusion of the -Achaean and Pelasgian rites? - -Again, the body was observed to lie on top of the burnt gifts. What is -the meaning of this superimposition? According to Rohde the fire which -consumed the gifts was allowed to go out, and the bodies were then laid -on the cold ashes. But manifestly this cannot be proved. All that we -know is that the fire did not consume the bodies. No one can assert -that they were untouched by flame or ember and that the smell of fire -did not pass over them. Was then the act of laying the body on top of -the burnt or burning gifts an act of ceremonial cremation? - -These questions I cannot answer; but one thing is clear. Either the -fusion of the Achaean and Pelasgian rites had already begun, or else, -in their original forms, they both comprised usages which greatly -facilitated their subsequent fusion. - -When we pass on to the Dipylon-period, there is no longer any doubt. -Cremation and inhumation were practised both severally side by side and -also conjointly as a single rite. The evidence on which I mainly rely -is derived from two series of excavations, those of Philios[1244] at -Eleusis and those of Brückner and Pernice[1245] in the Dipylon cemetery -at Athens. - -The autochthonous population of Attica naturally adhered in the -main to the old Pelasgian rite of inhumation. Yet at Eleusis, even -according to Philios who strangely belittles the importance of his -own discoveries[1246], there was one certain case of cremation; and -in the Dipylon cemetery also was found one urn which could be dated -with equal certainty. One or two other probable cases have also been -recorded by others[1247]. Clearly then as early as the eighth century -B.C. cremation was sometimes used, side by side with inhumation, as the -effective means of disintegrating the dead body. - -And there is equally sure proof that the two rites were also employed -conjointly, in the sense that a ceremonial act of inhumation followed -actual cremation, or a ceremonial act of cremation accompanied actual -inhumation. A conspicuous instance of the former is the one certain -case of actual cremation recorded by Brückner and Pernice[1248]. A -bronze urn containing the calcined bones of a boy or girl had been -deposited not in a mere hole dug to fit it, but in a grave fully -prepared as if for the reception of a corpse. The measurements of the -grave were of normal size; in it had been laid, along with the urn, -gifts of the usual nature--an amphora, two boxes, a bowl, and a jug; -and above the grave, in a prepared space considerably wider than the -actual grave, stood one of the large Dipylon-vases. In every respect -the interment had been carried out as if it were the interment of an -unburnt body. An attempt had been made so to combine the two rites of -cremation and inhumation that neither should seem subordinate to the -other. - -Instances of the other sort, in which ceremonial cremation accompanied -actual inhumation, are furnished by Philios’ excavations at Eleusis. -Speaking of the large earthenware jars which often served as coffins -for children, he says, ‘Whereas the bones contained in these vessels -were unburnt, all round the vessels in the soil traces of burning were -abundant and varied[1249].’ Now these traces of fire cannot have been -due to the burning of gifts brought subsequently to the interment; -for that custom naturally resulted in a stratum of burnt soil above -the grave. But here the traces were ‘all round the vessels, in the -soil.’ Apparently then we have here a practice parallel to that -of Mycenaean times. The body was interred and obtained its actual -dissolution by natural decay; but before the interment a fire was -kindled in the grave, and among the flames or on the embers the body -in its coffin-jar was laid and covered over with the soil. Whether at -Eleusis, as at Mycenae, the funeral-gifts were consumed in that fire, -we do not know for certain; but since it is undoubtedly rare to find -any gift along with the child’s body in these vessels, it is reasonable -to suppose that the few gifts--few, because all the circumstances of -these funerals seem humble--were burnt[1250] just as were the grander -offerings at Mycenae. At any rate these cases reveal an intention -of associating fire with the buried body, of adding to the rite of -interment a ceremonial act of cremation. - -The tendency towards fusion of the two funeral rites has now been -traced through the pre-historic era; it is in the historic period -that the fusion appears most general and most complete. I will take as -typical instances a number of graves, ranging in date from the sixth -to the fourth century, opened by the two German excavators on whose -narrative I have largely relied for the Dipylon-period[1251]. These -graves numbered somewhat under two hundred. In the classification of -them there appears the important item--forty-five graves in which the -body had been actually burned. In other words, in approximately a -quarter of the cases observed the rites of cremation and inhumation -had been combined, and that too in such a way that both elements, -fire and earth, might well have seemed to share together the work -of dissolution. Neither method is here exalted to sole efficacy, -neither is degraded into mere ceremony. The balance of importance is -adjusted, and the two acts which form the composite funeral-rite are -recognised as equal. Indeed there are no longer two distinct acts; -they have coalesced; the moment and the act of laying the body in the -earth are also the moment and the act of laying the body on the pyre. -Amalgamation is complete. - -Having traced the history of Greek funeral-usage down to this point, I -may now fairly claim, first, that my working hypothesis--the practice -of ceremonial cremation as the counterpart of ceremonial inhumation--is -justified by the single and consistent explanation which it affords of -the phenomena which I have noticed (and I may add that I shall have -occasion to explain other phenomena in the latter half of this chapter -in the same way); secondly, if that explanation be accepted, I may -claim that the only condition under which the two rites could have been -employed both severally as alternatives and conjointly as one composite -rite was that the religious purpose underlying them both was one and -the same. And this purpose, if there is any meaning in the stories of -Patroclus, Elpenor, Polynices, and Polydorus, was to give to the dead -that which they most craved, a speedy dissolution. - -The evidence for this unity of purpose is, I hope, already sufficient; -but confirmation may be found, if required, in the smaller details -of funeral-custom. It is, I believe, a received principle of textual -criticism that, in estimating the relation of two manuscripts of a -given author, coincidence in _minutiae_ is the true criterion of their -common origin or other close kinship, and its testimony is not to -be outweighed by a few conspicuous divergences. So too, I think, in -estimating the mutual relation of two rites, the coincidence of all -the minor circumstances connected with them is of more significance -than one large and evident contrast between them. Such a contrast, let -it be granted, exists between cremation and inhumation when employed -separately. Yet it would be a rash and faulty judgement, I hold, -which should at once infer thence that the two rites were informed by -different religious ideas. The minute coincidences claim examination. -If all that preceded and accompanied and followed the actual disposal -of the corpse, whether by burning or by burial, exhibited uniformity in -scheme and in scope; if the washing and the anointing, the arraying and -the crowning, were performed with the same tender care whether the body -was destined for the cold, slow earth or for the rapid flame; if from -the death-chamber, where the body had lain in state and the kinsfolk, -grouped in order of dearness about it, had paid in turn their debt of -lamentation, the same sad pomp escorted the dead whether to the pyre -or to the grave; if the same gifts--the same provision as it seems for -bodily comfort--were mingled as ashes with the ashes of the dead or -were consigned intact with the body yet intact to the will and keeping -of the earth; then, whichever means the mourners chose for effecting -the actual dissolution of the fleshly remains, their religious attitude -towards death and their conception of the hereafter must have been -single and constant. - -Space forbids me to enter into the evidence for the uniformity of all -this detail in all periods of Greek life. I will confine myself to two -illustrations. The first shall be the _prothesis_ or lying-in-state -of the body with the solemn lamentation of the kinsfolk, for the most -part women, grouped about it. I have elsewhere[1252] described the -scene; I have only to illustrate here the universality of it as the -prelude alike to cremation and to inhumation, alike in Ancient and in -Modern Greece, alike amid pagan and amid Christian surroundings. In the -Mycenaean age the bodies of the dead were sumptuously arrayed--probably -with a view to the lying-in-state; more than that cannot be actually -asserted of the earliest epoch. But in the Homeric age, as at the -funeral of Hector[1253], the custom is seen already fully developed. -In the Dipylon-age the scene described by Homer is found depicted -on the great vases that served as monuments over the graves[1254]. A -little later, the legislation of Solon is directed against the excesses -to which the rite of solemn lamentation led[1255]. Next, an orator of -Athens is found declaiming against the wrongs done to him by the thirty -tyrants, who, not content with having put his brother to death, had -actually refused the use of any of the three houses belonging to the -family and had forced them to lay out the body in a hired hut[1256]. -Again we have the ridicule of Lucian directed against the discordant -scene of useless misery[1257]. In strange company with him appears -St Chrysostom upbraiding Christians for their extravagances of grief -and threatening them with excommunication if they continue to call in -heathen women to act as professional mourners[1258]. Centuries passed -without diminution of the custom, and the Venetians during their -occupation of the Ionian islands enacted laws[1259] in the spirit of -those formulated by Solon more than two thousand years before. Of this -custom it might well be said, ‘_et vetabitur semper et retinebitur_,’ -for it still maintains its old vogue and vitality, and is the necessary -prelude of every peasant’s funeral to-day. - -My second illustration is a far more trivial circumstance, but not on -that account less significant--the use of the foliage of the olive as -a couch for the dead, whether on the bier which conveyed him to the -grave or on the funeral-pyre. The reason for choosing olive-leaves -does not concern us; there may have been, as Rohde suggests[1260], -some idea of purification connected with it; but it is only the -wide-spread use of it which I have to illustrate. Among the ashes of -those small pyres, on which the dead were laid in Mycenaean sepulchres, -were recognised charred olive-leaves[1261]. Lycurgus in curtailing -the funeral-rites of Sparta bade his countrymen wrap their dead for -burial in the red military cloak (as became a race of warriors) and in -olive-leaves[1262]. The Pythagoreans, who objected to cremation[1263], -laid their dead to rest on a bed of leaves gathered from myrtle, -poplar, and olive[1264]. An Attic law forbade the felling of certain -olive-trees under penalty of a fine of a hundred drachmae per tree, -but contained a saving-clause exempting cases in which olive-wood was -wanted for funerals[1265]. This permission points to a special use of -olive-wood as fuel for the pyre, for, if a few branches or sprays only -had been needed for decking out the bier, there would have been no -question of felling whole trees. It was probably then this custom which -Sophocles also had in mind, when the messenger, who brought the news -of Polynices’ tardy funeral, was made by him to specify ‘fresh-plucked -olive-shoots’ as the material of the pyre[1266]. Again, in a number -of sarcophagi found by Fauvel outside the gates of Athens on the -road to Acharnae the skeleton was observed to lie ‘on a thick bed of -olive-leaves[1267].’ In the second century of our era the custom of -placing olive-branches on the bier still prevailed[1268]; and at the -present day the olive is often conspicuous at the funerals of peasants, -either in the garland about the dead man’s head or in the decoration of -the bier. - -Thus the uniformity of detail in funerals, whether the main rite was -cremation or inhumation, no less than the tendency to amalgamate these -two into a single rite, proves that, from the earliest ages known to -us, their religious purpose had been identical--to give to the dead -that speedy bodily dissolution which they desired. - -But in spite of this unity of purpose, one or other rite doubtless -continued long through force of custom to hold predominance in -particular districts. In Attica it was perhaps not until the sixth or -even the fifth century that the Pelasgian rite had entirely lost the -support of ancestral tradition. But then and thenceforward the two -methods appear to have been judged simply as methods, and the estimate -of their respective merits was little affected by the old racial -differences. But this does not mean that the methods were judged -wholly on their religious merits--on their adaptability to the single -religious purpose. Cost and convenience were necessarily factors in -determining the choice between them. Thus the question of cost must -often have decided the poorer classes to choose inhumation; and in -that portion of the Dipylon cemetery to which I have already referred, -it was actually found that, out of the graves in which no evidence of -cremation was found, more than a hundred were of a poor character, -mere shafts in the earth, or at the best walled with rough brick-built -sides, while only thirteen were of a costly style--sepulchres built -with slabs of stone, or regular sarcophagi. And similarly other -practical considerations must often have turned the scale in favour -of the one or the other rite. The soldiers who fell at Marathon were -simply interred, presumably because to dig a trench and to raise a -mound in the middle of the plain was a more feasible task than to -collect masses of fuel from the surrounding hill-sides; but the victims -of the plague at Athens were with good reason cremated. - -Nevertheless, where none of these external causes operated, there -are signs that cremation was held in somewhat higher esteem than -inhumation. The story went that Solon’s body was burnt, by way of -honour seemingly, and his ashes scattered over that island which he -had won back for Athens. And we hear of cremation being accorded, -apparently again as the more honourable rite, to other great men -such as Dionysius, the famous tyrant of Syracuse, and Timoleon, her -deliverer. But more conclusive is the evidence of literature, where not -only the act itself is named, but a clear indication of the feeling -of the actors is given. According to Aeschylus, the dead body of -Agamemnon, king though he was, was merely hidden away in the ground -by his blood-guilty wife; even in death she would show him no pity, -do him no honour. But in Sophocles the dying Heracles is laid on a -funeral-pyre, and the dead Polynices, to whom Antigone was perforce -content to give the most meagre form of interment, obtains from -Creon, when at last too late he repents, the full rite of cremation. -And the tone too in which Herodotus once speaks of the two rites is -significant: ‘the funeral-rites of well-to-do Thracians,’ he says, ‘are -as follows: the body lies in state for three days, and they slaughter -all manner of victims and make good cheer, when once the preliminary -lamentation is done; and then they dispose of the body by cremation -or merely by interment’--ἔπειτα δὲ θάπτουσι κατακαύσαντες, ἢ ἄλλως γῇ -κρύψαντες[1269]. The ‘merely’ plainly betrays Herodotus’ own feeling -that well-to-do persons might be expected to have the advantage of -cremation. - -In the following centuries the preference for cremation would seem -to have become even more pronounced; for though both rites still -continued in use, separately as well as conjointly, Lucian was able to -call cremation the distinctively Hellenic rite[1270]. But more marked -still was the feeling in favour of cremation among those who upheld -the old Greek religion when first they had to face the invasion of -Christianity. ‘The heathen for the most part,’ says Bingham[1271], -‘burned the bodies of the dead in funeral piles, and then gathered -up the bones and ashes, and put them in an urn above ground: but the -Christians abhorred this way of burying; and therefore never used -it, but put the body whole into the ground.’ The conflict over this -matter was bitter. The pagans taunted the Christians with fearing -that, if their bodies were reduced to ashes by cremation, they would -be incapacitated for the vaunted resurrection[1272], and as a final -injury to Christian martyrs sometimes burnt their bodies and scattered -the ashes to the winds[1273]. The Christians in retaliation condemned -the rite of cremation as in appearance an act of cruelty to the dead -body[1274], and ridiculed the pagans for first ‘burning up their -dead in a most savage manner and then feasting them in a manner most -gluttonous, using the flames alike for their service and for their -injury[1275]’--for their service in cooking them a funeral-meal, for -their injury in consuming them to ashes. The two now conflicting -rites continued in use until the end of the fourth century of our -era; for reference is made to them in the laws of Theodosius[1276]. -But cremation must have been on the decrease; for Macrobius early in -the fifth century says that in his time the practice had fallen into -entire desuetude, and all he knew of it was from reading[1277]. ‘It -is most probable,’ says Bingham, ‘that the heathen custom altered by -degrees from the time of Commodus the Emperor; for Commodus himself -and many of his friends were buried by inhumation and not by burning -... and from that time the custom of burning might decrease till at -last under the Christian emperors, though without any law to forbid it, -the contrary custom entirely prevailed, and this quite dwindled into -nothing.’ If this view be correct, it will mean that the old preference -for cremation exhibited by the adherents of paganism was only excited -to temporary intensity by a spirit of antagonism towards Christianity, -and that they soon returned to the old way of thinking and recognised -inhumation as a method alternative, if slightly inferior, to cremation. -When the bitterness of religious strife was over, and pagans and -Christians lived more at peace together, the former may readily have -resumed the practice of interment, which after all was their own -heritage from dim ages long before the dawn of Christianity. - -But though Macrobius in the fifth century speaks of cremation as then -in disuse, the memory of it cannot have passed away so soon. Only a few -generations were to lapse before the infusion of a Slavonic population -into Greece. Among the superstitions which these intruders disseminated -was one which concerned the resuscitated dead. The Greeks, as we have -seen, themselves held a superstition on which the horrid imaginings -of the Slavs were soon grafted; the common-folk became haunted by the -dread of _vrykolakes_. How then did they deal with the bodies of such -dead persons as were suspected? Not by adopting the Slavonic custom of -impaling them, but by a revival of cremation. The advantage which that -rite possessed over burial was remembered; by its aid the dissolution -of the dead could be rendered quick and sure. Thus cremation came -once more into use as a means to the same end as in old time--the -quick dissolution of the dead body; but the motive for promoting that -dissolution was, under the altered conditions, itself altered. Instead -of love it was fear; instead of solicitude for the welfare of the dead, -it was anxiety for the protection of the living. - -Yet even so, the act of burning the _vrykolakas_ was a purely -defensive, not an offensive, measure. It was not an act of hostility -or reprisal, but merely a necessary act of self-preservation, which -inflicted no hurt on the _revenant_ but simply interposed an impassable -barrier between the living and the dead. The motive was fear; there was -little or nothing of hatred mixed with it. This is made clear by the -fact that cremation has been used even in recent times in a case which -had nothing whatsoever to do with the belief in _vrykolakes_, and where -the sole motive was the old desire to serve the interests of the dead. - -The occasion was the evacuation of Parga in 1819. The inhabitants of -that town had long defied the Turks, but the end was at hand, and it -was only by the intervention of the English that they were saved from -the tender mercies of Ali Pasha. The English offered them asylum in -the Ionian Islands and obtained from the Porte on their behalf a sum -of money which fully indemnified them for the houses and lands which -they abandoned. But in spite of the terms obtained, the emigrants never -forgave the English for treacherously selling to the Turks, as they -said, the home which they had defended so stoutly and so long[1278]. -This evacuation of Parga forms the theme of some ballads which have -been preserved[1279]. One of them runs as follows: - - ‘Bird of black tidings, that art come from yon confronting coastland, - Tell me what mean those sobs of woe, those dismal lamentations, - That rise aloud from Parga’s walls and shake the very mountains. - Hath the Turk overwhelmèd her, do fire and sword consume her?’ - ‘The Turk hath not o’erwhelmèd her, nor fire and sword consume her; - The men of Parga have been sold, as ye sell goats and oxen, - And all must hie them thence to dwell in miserable exile. - They must leave all, the homes they love, the tombs of their own fathers, - The shrine whereat they bowed the knee, for infidels to trample. - Women in anguish rend their hair and beat their bare white bosoms, - Old men lift up their quavering voice in dismal lamentation, - Priests amid flowing tears strip bare the churches where they worshipped. - Dost see the glare of yonder fire? the pall of smoke above it? - There are they burning dead men’s bones, the bones of valiant warriors, - Who made the hosts of Turkey quail and fired their captain’s palace[1280]. - Yonder, I tell thee, many a son his father’s bones is burning, - Lest the Liápid[1281] light on them, lest Turk upon them trample. - Dost hear the wailing manifold wherewith the woodlands echo? - Dost hear the beating of the breast, the dismal lamentation? - ’Tis that the parting hour has come, to part them from their country; - They kiss her very stones, they clasp her dust in fond caresses.’ - -The incident in this ballad with which we are concerned is the -exhumation and burning of the remains of those dead warriors who had -valiantly maintained the liberty of their native town; and there need -be little doubt that the incident is actually historical, for the story -is confirmed by a second ballad in the same collection[1282]; but in -any case all that concerns us here is the fact that the motive for such -an act was known and appreciated by the authors of the two ballads. - -Now in order to understand this motive, it must be remembered that -the general custom of the Church in Greece is to exhume the bones of -the dead at the expiration of three years from the time of burial, -when dissolution is expected to be complete. Hence the kinsfolk for -whose remains the men of Parga were concerned were those who had been -recently buried and could not yet have attained complete dissolution. -They feared that the Turks would disturb and desecrate the graves and -thus obstruct the proper course of natural decay; and they therefore -decided to adopt the alternative method of disintegration, and by -cremation to effect speedily and surely that end which, without -friends at hand to guard the graves from the molestation of foes and -infidels, could not be secured by leaving the dead to the slow action -of the earth. This decision then reveals a clear recognition of the -superiority of cremation over inhumation as a means of compassing the -final dissolution of the dead; and equally clear is the motive for -seeking that end; it was not fear on their own account--to that feeling -indeed the men of Parga had proved themselves strangers--but simply -love and respect for the brave men who had fought, and perhaps had -fallen, in the defence of freedom. - -Since then the exhumation and cremation of the dead constituted in -this case an act of love towards them, the same action in the case of -suspected _vrykolakes_ can never have been an act of hostility. It was -rather a measure beneficial alike to the living and to the dead. To the -living it gave immunity from the assaults of _vrykolakes_, and this -without doubt was commonly the uppermost or indeed the only thought -in the minds of those who had recourse to it; but to the dead too it -gave repose. And indeed I cannot but suppose that this is the reason -why the Greeks, when first confronted with the horror of _vrykolakes_, -chose to burn them rather than to follow the Slavonic custom of -impaling them. To impale them might have given security to the living, -but it appeared as an act of cruelty and hostility against the dead. -Cremation, by effecting immediate dissolution and the consequent -severance of the dead from this world, was bound to give equal security -to the living, and at the same time was an act of mercy and kindness -to the dead. In effect, the new motive of dread which came along with -Slavonic influence never excluded the old motive of love which inspired -the sons of warriors at Parga no less than the chief of Homeric -warriors at his comrade’s funeral, and perhaps will, if occasion arise, -prove itself not yet extinct. Cremation, though often in recent times -employed primarily as a safeguard for the living, has all along been -felt to confer also a benefit on the dead, an even surer and speedier -benefit than inhumation secured. - -Now if this feeling existed, and if there existed also from early -times, as I have shown to be probable, a system of combining cremation -of a ceremonial kind with actual inhumation, it might reasonably be -expected that many who recognised the superior merit of cremation, but -had not the means to carry out so costly a rite in full, would have -availed themselves of the inexpensive ceremonial practice. This, I -believe, is what occurred, and in this I shall seek the explanation -of a custom which, like the practice of real cremation, has been -bequeathed by Ancient to Modern Greece. - -In the funerals of Ancient Greece the procession, which escorted the -dead body from the room where it had lain in state to the pyre or the -grave, carried torches. Where cremation was to be employed, these -were doubtless used for kindling the pyre; the fire brought from the -dead man’s home in this world was used to speed him on his way to the -next. But when inhumation was practised, what became of these torches? -Was the fire brought from the dead man’s home put to no purpose? Or -were the torches thrown into the grave along with him? That we cannot -tell, for the torches were quickly perishable. But there is one object -commonly found in tombs which is suggestive of the association of -fire with the buried body. That common object is a lamp. Here again -we cannot tell whether that lamp was lighted when it was put in the -grave. Some that have been dug up have certainly been in use, for they -bear marks of the flame; but of course they may have been in every-day -use before they were devoted to the service of the dead. Yet the few -facts known would at least fit the theory that the procession which -carried out the dead man carried also fire from his home to the grave, -and that either the torches themselves or a lamp lighted from them was -put in the grave beside the body. If that view were correct, it would -further be note-worthy that most of the lamps found are of little -intrinsic value and of late date[1283]. Now the fact that they are -mostly worthless implies that they were often given by poor persons, -or, if the other contents of the grave be of value, that the lamp -was not brought as a gift for its intrinsic worth or beauty, but for -some practical purpose; while the fact that they are mainly of late -date means that the practice of putting them in the graves increased -in frequency during the period which begins with the fifth century -B.C.--that is to say, during that period in which we have already noted -an increasing preference for cremation. Further the increase in the -frequency of lamps makes it improbable that they are to be reckoned -as part and parcel of the ordinary furniture of a grave; for the -_lekythi_ and other vases which were the ordinary gifts to the dead -had already in the fifth century assumed a conventional character. Any -fresh departure therefore after that century, or any increase in the -frequency of one particular object among the contents of graves, must -be a sign of some new or more strongly marked feeling towards the dead. -Now all these facts and inferences are intelligible on one hypothesis; -and that hypothesis is that the lamps found in the graves were put -there lighted and burning, as the ceremonial minimum of the rite of -cremation for which a growing preference is evident during some four -centuries before the Christian era. - -When we pass on to the early days of Christianity, a similar series of -facts meets our view. The Church officially rejected and reprobated -the practice of cremation. Converts therefore were bound to use -inhumation; and this obligation probably excited the less repugnance, -in that interment was no new thing to them, but had always been -alternative, if slightly inferior, to cremation. But while even -cheerfully obeying the law of the Church thus far, they clung to many -of the details of their old funeral-custom, some of which were allowed -by the Church, others disallowed. The practice of laying out the dead -in rich and choice robes continued and called down strong rebuke -from St Jerome[1284]; the excessive lamentation and the use of hired -mourners at the lying-in-state provoked St Chrysostom to threats of -excommunication[1285]; yet both these customs still obtain. But the -custom of carrying torches in the funeral-procession was continued -without even a protest on the part of the Church. Perhaps it was felt -to be a harmless concession to ancient custom; perhaps then as now -ecclesiastical taste even favoured the consumption of many candles in -religious ceremonies. At any rate the fact is clear that the pagan -custom of carrying torches in the procession held a place also in -Christian ritual. What was the reason for which the common people -held to their old custom? The torches were not needed any longer -to kindle pyres; for actual cremation was abolished by the Church. -Nor were they needed to give light to the procession; for Christian -funerals, except in times of persecution, took place in open daylight. -The reason was, I believe, that by means of these torches fire was -carried along with the dead from his home to his grave, and that there -a ceremonial act, a semblance of cremation, was combined with the rite -of inhumation. And there are some indications that the fire brought to -the grave-side was actually associated in some way with the dead body. -In a disquisition ‘about them that sleep,’ which passed for a work of -St Athanasius[1286], there is a recommendation to burn a mixture of oil -and wax at the grave of the dead; and though the practice inculcated -is disguised as ‘a sacrifice of burnt-offering to God,’ it is possible -to attribute it to a less Jewish and more Greek motive, a desire -to keep up the old custom of cremation, be it only in a ceremonial -form. Again we have evidence that the custom of burning lights at -the graves of the dead was commonly followed for some non-Christian -purpose; for the Council of Eliberis saw fit to forbid it under pain of -excommunication[1287]. This non-Christian purpose will explain itself -in the light of some modern customs. - -There is a custom well known in Modern Greece which consists in the -maintenance of what is called ‘the unsleeping lamp’ (τὸ ἀκοίμητο -καντῆλι). A fair general idea of it may be given by saying that after a -funeral a light is kept continuously burning either in the room where -death took place or at the grave for a period of either forty days or -three years. This variation in time and place requires examination. -In customs, as in other things, there is a right way and a wrong way; -variety in observance is not original; there is a proper time and a -proper place. - -First then, which is the proper place for this particular custom, the -chamber of death or the grave-side? - -The localities, in which that form of the custom which I shall show -to be correct in this particular has come most conspicuously under my -own observation, are Aráchova, a village near Delphi; Leonídi on the -east coast of Laconia; a cemetery in the Thriasian plain belonging, -I think, to the village of Kalývia; and the island of Aegina. In the -last-mentioned it is an ordinary lantern which is used; it is placed -at the head of the grave, and for forty days after the funeral is so -trimmed and tended that the flame is not once extinguished. At Aráchova -and in the Thriasian plain each grave is provided with an erection -capable of sheltering a naked light. Some of the erections are like -doll’s-houses with door and windows complete; others are mere boxes; -others again are no more than a few tiles or flat stones set on edge -to form a square and covered over with a roof of the same material. At -Aráchova the lamps contained in these erections are tended both evening -and morning, and the obligation to keep them burning uninterruptedly -for three years, until the exhumation of the body, is strongly felt -and scrupulously discharged. In the Thriasian plain the light is -kept burning with equal care, but I am uncertain for what period. At -Leonídi some shelters of the same kind as those described are in use; -but there are also more elaborate tombs at the head of which is built -a small recess below the level of the ground or at any rate under the -slab of stone or marble which covers the grave, and in this recess, -which is closed with a small door allowing the passage of air through -its chinks, is placed ‘the unsleeping lamp.’ Here again the lights are -kept burning until the exhumation takes place, and the lamps are fed -and trimmed every evening. At Gytheion a device not dissimilar, though -ruder, was formerly employed; among some old graves, now neglected, -from which, it appeared, the bones of the dead had never been exhumed, -I noticed several plastered over with a rough concrete in which was -sunk at the head of the grave an iron vessel, like a sauce-pan docked -of its handle; this vessel had presumably served the purpose of -sheltering a light. - -Such then is the main aspect of this custom; but the preliminary -details also require notice. The fire with which to light the -‘unsleeping lamp’ must not be kindled on the spot beside the grave, -but is conveyed from the house of the deceased. There, in general, -the moment that death takes place or at any rate so soon as the body -is laid out in state, candles or lamps are lighted and are placed at -the head and at the foot of the couch on which the body reposes. These -are kept burning until the funeral-procession is ready to start, and -along with the procession either the same lights or other tapers and -candles lighted from them are carried to the grave; and here the same -fire which was burning in the house of the dead is transmitted to the -‘unsleeping lamp’ at the grave. - -This I believe to be the correct form of the custom, but I must -notice other varieties and give my reasons for regarding them as -less authentic. It is stated in a reliable treatise on the island -of Chios[1288], that there the people keep a lamp burning for forty -nights in the room where a death has taken place, thinking that the -soul wanders for forty nights before it goes down to Hades. The -interpretation given evidently implies that the lamp is intended to -give light to the spirit of the dead if in the course of its nightly -wanderings it visits its former home. - -Now so far as the Chian form of the custom is concerned, some such -meaning might reasonably be assigned to it. But what of the more -usual form of the custom by which the lamp is kept burning both night -and day? A disembodied spirit, if it resemble an ordinary man, may -reasonably be supposed to need a candle to see its way at night, -but surely it needs none in the day-time; yet it is only the custom -of burning the light all day long as well as at night that can have -gained for it the name of ‘the unsleeping lamp,’ the lamp that is never -extinguished. Here then is a visible defect in the Chian manner of -observing the custom and likewise in the Chian manner of interpreting -it; and a custom defective and misinterpreted in one important detail -is open to suspicion in others. So far therefore as Chios is concerned, -no great importance attaches to the fact that there the chamber of -death is the place where the remnants of the custom are observed. - -But there are other parts of Greece in which the death-chamber is the -place for the ‘unsleeping lamp,’ and where the lamp still deserves that -designation inasmuch as it is kept burning both day and night until the -fortieth day after the funeral, and is not, as in Chios, lighted afresh -each night. In such districts, I believe, the custom has long ceased to -bear any meaning, and being on the wane has for convenience undergone -a change. It is still felt to be obligatory to keep the flame that is -lighted as soon as death has occurred burning constantly for forty -days, but the work of tending it has been found to be more conveniently -performed at home than in the grave-yard. The necessity to transmit -the flame to the grave, to keep it continuously in close proximity -to the dead, is no longer felt. This form of the custom can then be -accounted for as a relaxation of that which I have put forward as the -old and correct form; whereas on the other hand if the room where -death occurred had originally been the proper place for maintaining -the ‘unsleeping lamp,’ it would be impossible to account for the -transference of the custom to the grave-side, where special shelters -or receptacles must be made for the protection of the flame and where -more trouble is needed to feed and to trim the lamps day by day. -Aráchova and Leonídi where most pains are taken in the observance of -the custom--and that not for forty days only but for three years--have -the best claim to be regarded as the true exponents of the old custom. -The proper place for the ‘unsleeping lamp’ is the grave-side. - -But there is a variation also, as I have said, in the period of time -during which this custom is kept up in different districts. In some it -is a period of forty days, in others a period of three years; and in -this respect there is a divergence between the usages even of those -places which in other details have been shown to adhere faithfully -to the old custom; for at Aráchova and Leonídi the longer period is -customary, in Aegina the shorter. It is in this very variation that we -find a clue to the meaning and purpose of the custom. In the earlier -part of this chapter I showed, by quotation from a popular dirge and by -the consideration of various customs connected with death, that in the -belief of the common-folk the dissolution of a dead body is effected -by the fortieth day after burial. On the other hand the Church has -more prudently fixed three years as the time required for dissolution, -the period which must elapse before the body may be exhumed. Thus -there are two periods, fixed respectively by popular opinion and by -ecclesiastical authority, between which there is a choice; the _vox -populi_ and the _vox Dei_ are here in disagreement; and according as -preference is locally given to the one or to the other mandate, so is -a period of forty days or a period of three years locally believed to -be that required for the dissolution of the body. But these two periods -are also those between which there is a local variation in the custom -of maintaining the ‘unsleeping lamp.’ Hence it is reasonably to be -inferred that the ‘unsleeping lamp’ is in some way closely connected -with the dissolution of the body. - -Moreover this connexion is actually recognised by the common-folk -themselves, as witness the following two couplets from a funeral-dirge. -The words are put, as so often in the dirges, in the mouth of the dead -man, who in this instance is supposed to be young and to be addressing -his forlorn lady-love. - - ‘And when the priests with solemn song march toward the grave with me, - Steal thou out from thy mother’s side and light me torches three; - And when the priests shall quench again those lights for me,--ah then, - Then, like the breath of roses, sweet, thou passest from my ken[1289].’ - -These lines are based on a belief which is fairly general among the -Greek peasants, that consciousness of, and concern for, the things -of this world are not broken off finally at the moment of death, but -continue in some degree until the body of the dead is completely -dissolved. Here the memories of love are spoken of as lasting until -the priests quench the burning lights, which can be none other in the -context than the ‘unsleeping lamp’--for three, the number mentioned, -is merely a number of peculiar virtue and has no special force. It -follows then that the quenching of the lights is understood in the -passage to denote the accomplishment of that process of dissolution, -which, though it mean the cessation of all intercourse with this -upper world, is yet earnestly desired. Here in fact are plain words -of popular poetry which recognise the connexion of the ‘unsleeping -lamp’ with the dissolution of the body, and make the quenching of the -one signify the completion of the other. It is going but a short step -further to suppose that the presence of the lamp’s flame at the grave -was originally intended to advance the process of dissolution--or, in -other words, that the maintenance of the ‘unsleeping lamp’ at the grave -until the body is finally dissolved is an act of ceremonial cremation. - -This supposition gains yet more in probability when we compare with -the custom of the ‘unsleeping lamp’ another not dissimilar custom -which obtains in Zacynthos. There, as elsewhere, candles or lamps are -lighted about the dead body while it is lying in state, and fire from -them is carried to the grave. But, arrived there, instead of lighting -an ‘unsleeping lamp,’ the bearers of the candles drop them into the -grave beside the corpse. In this we have a close parallel to the -ancient custom of putting a lamp, probably enough, as I have suggested, -a lighted lamp, into the grave; and at the same time it cannot but be -intimately connected with the custom of the ‘unsleeping lamp,’ the -purpose of which is now known to concern the dissolution of the dead -body. I claim then that the series of customs which we have reviewed, -exhibiting as they do an intention to associate fire in some close -way with the buried body and, as in the modern form of the custom, to -associate it therewith until the process of dissolution is complete, -find a common explanation in the continuance of a practice already -exemplified in earlier ages, the practice of ceremonial cremation in -conjunction with the full burial rite. - -Nor is this explanation open to attack on the ground that a mere -lamp lighted near the dead body bears so little outward resemblance -to real cremation. To the outside observer the ceremonial act may -seem a mere travesty of that for which it is substituted; but to the -persons concerned the presence of fire, in however small a volume, may -have seemed sufficient; for in all ritual it is not the act, but the -intention, which has value. I have already pointed out how interment -was occasionally reduced to an equally ineffective minimum; but I may -perhaps cite a still closer parallel--another case in which a lamp -is thought to have done duty for a real fire. There was in old time a -custom, to which several ancient writers refer[1290], of keeping a lamp -burning both day and night in the Prytaneum or in the chief temple of -a Greek city; and both Athens and Tarentum are said to have had these -lamps so constructed that they could hold a supply of oil sufficient to -last a whole year. Such lamps, it has been suggested[1291], represented -the fire on the city’s hearth which was not allowed to go out. The -purpose of the lamp was clearly not to give light--for then it need -not have been kept burning by day as well as by night--but it was a -labour-saving appliance for keeping the sacred fire ever burning. -The small flame was in fact a rudimentary fire. Thus all that I am -supposing is that a lamp could represent a real fire just as well at -the tomb as in the Prytaneum. - -If then my explanation of the modern custom is right, the fact that the -common-folk, though they have for many centuries employed inhumation -as the ordinary Christian rite, have clung at the same time to a -ceremonial form of cremation which they still connect in some way with -the dissolution of the buried corpse, is additional proof of the favour -with which the quicker and surer rite was formerly, and perhaps here -and there still is, regarded. - -Thus then the study of ordinary funeral-usage has confirmed the -conclusions drawn in preceding chapters from the study of a certain -abnormal state of after-death existence. As incorruptibility was the -greatest bane to the dead, so dissolution was the greatest boon that -the living could give them. This dissolution was to be effected by -one of two methods, cremation and inhumation, which in theory were -alternative but in practice were frequently combined. The combination -of them was due in the first instance to the amalgamation of two -races to which they respectively appertained; but in later times the -racial difference between the two rites was obliterated, and they -were judged on their own merits, with the result that a preference -for cremation manifested itself in funeral-usage. This preference was -due to a recognition that cremation was a quicker and surer method of -dissolution, and is itself strong testimony to the desire to effect -dissolution. The end to which both rites were directed was the same, -but since one led to that end more quickly and surely than the other, -it was rightly preferred. - -Further the motive which prompted the living to effect the dissolution -of the dead was not in general selfish; for dissolution, as we have -seen, was a boon to the dead. That complete severance from this world, -which came with the dissolution of the body, was in some way for the -benefit of the dead. Patroclus sought for it, and Achilles granted his -petition through love; and some three thousand years later the men -of Parga are found effecting the rapid dissolution of their kinsfolk -with the same motive. Only in one set of circumstances was the selfish -motive of fear in operation, namely, where, the resuscitated dead -were, by the influence of Slavonic superstition, invested with the -character of malignant blood-thirsty monsters against whom self-defence -was imperative, and whose complete severance from this world was -desirable as a safeguard for the living. But such circumstances were -the exception. The rule was that cremation and inhumation alike were -means to the dissolution of the dead and their complete severance from -this world, and the motive which prompted living men to seek that end -was love of the dead who would in some way benefit thereby. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1226] Bern. Schmidt, _Lieder, Märchen, Sagen etc._, Folk-song no. 33. - -[1227] Cf. above, p. 389. - -[1228] See above, p. 307, note 1, and p. 313. - -[1229] The feasts at earlier dates, as on the third and ninth days, -will be shown later to be popular in origin. See below, pp. 530 ff. - -[1230] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, ἡ Σινασός, p. 82. - -[1231] _Op. cit._ p. 81. The form here is σαρανταρίκια. - -[1232] Δελτίον τῆς ἱστορ. καὶ ἐθνολ. ἑταιρ. τῆς Ἑλλάδος, III. p. 337. -The form is σαραντάρια. - -[1233] See above, p. 373. - -[1234] Soph. _Antig._ 256. Cf. Jebb’s note _ad loc._, from which I take -the further references. - -[1235] Aelian, _Var. Hist._ V. 14. - -[1236] Aelian, _Hist. Anim._ V. 49. - -[1237] Cf. Fauriel, _Chants de la Grèce Moderne, Discours -Préliminaire_, p. 40; Μιχαὴλ Σ. Γρηγορόπουλος, ἡ νῆσος Σύμη, p. 46. - -[1238] _Early Age of Greece_, Vol. I. cap. 7. - -[1239] Bury, _History of Greece_, p. 41. - -[1240] Rohde, _Psyche_, cap. I. - -[1241] Hom. _Il._ VI. 417 ff., XXIII. 252 ff., XXIV. 791 ff.; _Od._ XI. -72 ff. and XII. 11 ff. - -[1242] _Psyche_ I. pp. 31-32. - -[1243] Cf. Lucian, _De Luctu_ 14, ἐσθῆτα καὶ τὸν ἄλλον κόσμον -συγκατέφλεξεν ἣ συγκατώρυξεν. - -[1244] Described in Ἐφημερὶς Ἀρχαιολ. 1889, pp. 171 ff. - -[1245] Described in _Athen. Mittheilungen_, 1893, pp. 73-191. - -[1246] The perusal of Philios’ narrative leaves the impression that -several cases of cremation were discovered. Yet in his concluding -summary he says: “Burial, not burning, of the dead was in those times -the more prevalent custom, since in one case and one only can we admit -that the corpse was not buried but burnt.” I note that Brückner and -Pernice (_op. cit._ p. 149) in referring to Philios’ results tacitly -soften his rigid ‘one and one only’ into the more supple ‘one or two.’ -For justification of this see Philios, _op. cit._ pp. 178, 179, 180, -185. - -[1247] Hirschfeld, in _Annali_, 1872, pp. 135, 167, cited by Brückner -and Pernice _op. cit._ p. 148. Κουμανούδης, in Πρακτικὰ, 1873-4, p. 17. - -[1248] _Op. cit._ pp. 91 ff. - -[1249] _Op. cit._ p. 178. - -[1250] Brückner and Pernice take this view of the fact, though the -words which they use are coloured by their acceptance of Rohde’s theory -of propitiatory offerings to the dead. ‘Vor der Beerdigung, so scheint -es nach den Funden des Herrn Philios, sind an der Grabstätte des -öfteren Brandopfer dargebracht worden.’ _Op. cit._ p. 151. - -[1251] See _op. cit._ pp. 78-9. - -[1252] See above, p. 347. - -[1253] _Il._ XXIV. 719 ff. - -[1254] Cf. _Athen. Mittheil._ 1893, p. 103. - -[1255] Plutarch, _Solon_ 20. - -[1256] Lysias, _Or._ XII. 18, 19. - -[1257] Lucian, _de Luctu_, 12 and 13. - -[1258] _Hom._ 32 _in Mat._ p. 306. - -[1259] Preserved among the archives of Zante, which the kindness of Mr -Leonidas Zoës enabled me to inspect. - -[1260] _Psyche_, I. pp. 209 and 360. From this source I draw several of -the following references. - -[1261] Tsountas in Ἐφημερὶς Ἀρχαιολ. 1888, p. 136. - -[1262] Plut. _Lycurg._ 27. - -[1263] Iambl. _Vit. Pythag._ 154. - -[1264] Pliny, _N. H._ XXXV. 160. - -[1265] Dem. _Orat._ 43 § 71. - -[1266] _Antig._ 1201. Prof. Jebb in his note on this passage expresses -the opinion that the θάλλοι νεοσπάδες were not fuel: in view of the -Attic law above cited I am inclined to dissent. He also takes κλήματα -in Ar. _Eccles._ 1031 to mean ‘olive twigs’ and not, as more usual, -‘vine-shoots.’ I pass by the passage as doubtful evidence. - -[1267] Ross, _Arch. Aufs._ I. 31. - -[1268] Artemid. _Oneirocr._ IV. 57. - -[1269] Herod. V. 8. - -[1270] Lucian, _de Luctu_, 21. - -[1271] _Antiquities of the Christian Church_, Bk XXIII. cap. 2, whence -I take the following references. - -[1272] Minucius, p. 32. - -[1273] _Acta Tharaci_ ap. Baron. an. 299, n. XXI., Ammian. Marcell. -lib. XXII. p. 241, Euseb. lib. VIII. cap. 6. - -[1274] Tertull. _De Anima_, cap. 51. - -[1275] Tertull. _de Resur._ cap. 1. - -[1276] _Cod. Th._ lib. IX. tit. 17 _de Sepulcris violatis_, leg. 6. - -[1277] _Saturnal._ lib. VII. cap. 7. - -[1278] See Finlay, _History of Greece_, vol. V. pp. 274-6. - -[1279] Passow, _Popularia Carm. Graeciae recentioris_, nos. 222-224. I -translate here no. 222. - -[1280] So I interpret, but without certainty, the words καὶ τὸ βεζύρη -κάψαν, literally ‘and they burnt the Vizir.’ - -[1281] The Liápides were an Albanian tribe employed by the Turks. - -[1282] No. 223. - -[1283] Actual data on this point are difficult to obtain; but -archaeologists whom I consulted in Greece were all agreed, that -lamps are more frequent in graves of late date, most frequent in the -Greco-Roman period. - -[1284] Hieron. _Vita Pauli_ 4, cap. 66. - -[1285] Chrysostom, _Hom._ 32 _in Mat._ p. 306. - -[1286] Cited by Durant, _de Ritibus_, lib. I. cap. XXIII. n. 14 (p. -235). I have been unable to discover the original passage. Cf. Bingham, -_op. cit._ XXIII. 3. - -[1287] See Bingham, _Antiquities of the Christian Church_, Bk XXIII. -cap. 3 _ad fin._ - -[1288] Κωνστ. Ν. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 341. - -[1289] These lines, or others in the same tenor, are well known among -the professional μυρολογίστριαις (women hired to mourn at funerals). -The version which I here follow is given by Passow, _Popul. Carm._ no. -377 A. - - Κι’ ὄντες νά με περάσουνε ψάλλοντες οἱ παπᾶδες, - Ἔβγα κρυφὰ ’π’ τὴ μάνα σου κι’ ἄναψε τρεῖς λαμπάδες· - Κι’ ὄντες νά μου τὰ σβέσουνε παπᾶδες τὰ κηριά μου, - Τότες τρανταφυλλένια μου βγαίνεις ἀπ’ τὴν καρδιά μου. - -[1290] Theocritus XXI. 36 f.; Athenaeus 700 D; Pausan. I. 26. 7. - -[1291] Frazer, in _Journ. of Philol._ XIV. 145 ff. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE BENEFIT OF DISSOLUTION. - - -Thus far the investigation of customs and beliefs in ancient and modern -times relating to the treatment of the dead has established the fact -that the dissolution of the body was a thing eagerly to be desired in -the interests of the dead. With complete disintegration the _summum -bonum_ of the dead, so far as it was in the power of their surviving -friends to win it for them, was secured. It remains to consider in what -way the dead profited thereby. - -Now I have hitherto spoken designedly of dissolution as a benefit, -not to the souls of the dead nor to their bodies, but simply ‘to the -dead’ without further specification. It will now limit the range of -discussion as to the nature of the _summum bonum_ to which dissolution -gave access, if we can first answer the old question, _cui bono?_ -Is it the body alone or the soul alone or both conjointly on which -the benefit is conferred? This question once answered, we shall have -eliminated a certain number of possible conceptions of future happiness. - -That the body alone might have been the recipient of the whole benefit -is an idea which no one will entertain. Was it then the soul alone -to which the dissolution of the body brought gain? Death, as we have -learnt, was not a complete and final severance of soul from body; the -soul might re-enter and re-animate the corpse. Was dissolution then -believed to complete the severance? - -The deliverance of the soul from the bondage of the body, the divorce -of spirit from matter, is an idea which has appealed and does appeal to -many, and would therefore furnish a motive of considerable intrinsic -probability for the treatment which the Greek people have consistently -accorded to their dead; the dissolution of the body, it might be -supposed, was desired and hastened in order that the soul might be -freed from its last link with this material world and pass away winged -and unburdened towards things ethereal. - -But such an explanation savours too much of philosophy and too little -of popular religion. ‘The rehearsal of death,’ that is of the severance -of soul from body, was according to Socrates the proper occupation of -the philosopher; and death itself was welcome to him as a final release -of the soul, the true self, from the fetters of physical existence. -But the very emphasis which the whole of the _Phaedo_ gives to this -idea, the insistence of Socrates that his real self is that which -converses with his friends and seeks to convince them of his views, and -not the corpse which they will soon be burying or burning as seemeth -them good[1292], suggest, if anything, that in the popular religion -the severance of soul from body was not desired, and the true self was -not conceived as a thing apart from body. At any rate the reason for -desiring dissolution must be sought from more popular sources. - -I return therefore to a passage[1293] on which I have already touched -more than once, the earliest passage of extant literature, in which a -dead man is represented as craving the dissolution of his body. Why was -it that the soul of Patroclus desired so urgently the last rites for -his body? Was it for the benefit of his soul only? Popular religion, -as we have seen, did not reckon death a final severance of soul and -body; for the soul might return and re-animate the body. Was then -dissolution believed to complete the severance, annihilating the body -and emancipating the soul? Did the future happiness of the soul depend -upon such emancipation? Did Patroclus, in the case before us, crave -dissolution in order that his soul, finally severed from his body, -might find happiness? - -Homer certainly peoples the lower world with souls only, severed from -their former bodies. It is clearly the soul only of Patroclus which -will pass the gates of Hades, when once his request for the burial -of his body has been fulfilled; for it is ‘the souls, the semblances -of the dead[1294],’ who bar his entrance thereto meanwhile. But -those souls are not happy souls. The house of Hades is not a place of -happiness; it is dank, murky, mouldering; and the souls themselves are -not of a nature to enjoy anything; they are feeble, impotent wraiths, -mere semblances of men, all doomed to the same miserable travesty -of life; the bodies from which they are now severed were their real -selves[1295], and there remain now only impalpable joyless phantoms. -‘Sooner,’ cries the spirit of Achilles to Odysseus, ‘would I be a serf -bound to the soil, in the house of a portionless man whose living were -but scant, than lord over all the dead that are perished[1296]’; for -the old valour even of Achilles avails him no more; his soul fares in -the house of Hades even as all others fare; all alike are doomed to -everlasting futility in a land of everlasting gloom. Fitly is the soul -of Patroclus said to have sped, at the moment of death, towards Hades’ -realm ‘bewailing its fate in that it had left vigour and manhood[1297].’ - -How then comes it that anon the same soul is eager to pass the gates of -Hades? Surely the wanderings of the dead Patroclus, whether in the form -of a _revenant_ as the popular belief would have had it, or, according -to Homer’s version, as a disembodied spirit, would hardly be more -pitiable than the lot which he in common with all the dead must suffer -below. Why then this eagerness? - -I can find nothing in Homer to justify it; it appears to me wholly -inconsistent with the Homeric conception of the under-world. - -And this inconsistency is of wide bearing. The cases of Patroclus and -Elpenor are not isolated. The same eagerness for dissolution on the -part of the dead has, as we have seen, been steadily recognised in all -the relations between the living and the dead from the days of Homer -until now. That which is at variance with the Homeric conception of -the hereafter is not merely the petition of Patroclus, but the idea on -which the funeral-customs of a whole people have been based for nearly -three thousand years. - -Such a discrepancy cannot but force upon us the question how far the -Homeric conception of the hereafter was the popular conception. - -That the whole picture of the house of Hades and of the condition -of the departed therein was not an Homeric invention is, I suppose, -indisputable. Its two main features are the gloom of the place and the -lack of distinction between the lots of those who dwell there[1298]. -Of these the first at any rate is frequent enough in later literature, -and indeed held so firm a place in the Greek mind that ‘to see the -light’ became synonymous with ‘to live in this upper world’; and even -down to the present day both ideas live on. The constant epithets -which Homer applies to the house of Hades, ‘cold’ (κρυερός) and -‘mouldering’ (εὐρώεις), are exactly reproduced in the epithets with -which Hades, now a place instead of a person, is described in modern -dirges--κρυοπαγωμένος, ‘frozen,’ and ἀραχνιασμένος, ‘thick with -spiders’ webs’[1299]; and the same uniform misery of all the departed -is likewise a common theme in the many songs that deal with Charon and -the lower world. All this could not have been effected by the influence -of Homer alone, great though it was, if he had himself invented the -whole conception. It is clear that he utilised a conception which was -before his time, and still is, a popular conception. - -But there is equally good evidence of a totally different presentation -of the future state. A fragment of one of Pindar’s dirges contradicts -the Homeric description of the lower world in every point. ‘Upon the -righteous the glorious sun sheddeth light below while night is here, -and amid meadows red with roses lieth the space before their city’s -gate, all hazy with frankincense and laden with golden fruits; and -some take their joy in horses and feats of prowess, and others at -the draught-board, and others in the music of lutes, and among them -every fair flower of happiness doth blossom; and o’er that lovely land -spreadeth the savour of all manner of spices that be mingled with -far-gleaming fire on the gods’ altars[1300].’ So then this under-world -is not cold and murky, but is warmed and lighted by the sun; its -inhabitants are not frail spirits incapable of joy, but take their -pleasure as aforetime in the world above; nor is the lot of all the -same, for it is only the righteous who enjoy this bliss. - -The popular character of this conception is equally clear. The -distinction between the varying fortunes of the dead--the hope of -happiness for some in contrast with the universal misery of the Homeric -under-world--is an idea which finds expression throughout ancient -literature; and if the house of Hades often remains none the less a -place of gloom, that is because the abode of the righteous is often -transferred to the islands of the blest, and the dark under-world -left as a place of punishment for the wicked. At the present day too -the same ideas are widely current among the common-folk. It is true -that the dirges more generally pourtray the lower world as wrapped -in Homeric gloom, and the condition of the departed as monotonously -miserable; but the express purpose of these dirges, recited beside the -dead body before it is carried out to burial, is to excite the mourners -to a frenzy of grief, and the professional dirge-singer (for there are -still women in some parts of Greece who follow that calling) would soon -lose her work if, instead of harrowing the feelings of the mourners, -she took upon herself to comfort them; her whole business is to move -to tears those whom the bereavement itself has left unmoved, or to -stimulate to fresh outbursts of lamentation those who are already spent -with sorrow. But in a few folk-songs is found the more cheerful belief -that the departed still continue the pursuits which they followed in -this life[1301]; while as for their abode, any peasant who should have -the Pindaric description of the future home of the blessed explained to -him, would unhesitatingly identify it with that which he himself calls -Paradise. Some points perhaps in that description would surprise him -no less than they would please him, as for example the permission to -play draughts, but they would not obscure his recognition; the place of -fair flowers and fruits and scents could be none other than Paradise. -“The people of modern Greece,” says a Greek writer[1302], ... “unable -to comprehend the idea of spiritual joys, consider Paradise a place -of largely material and sensuous pleasures. The Paradise of the Greek -folk is watered by great rivers, ... and in it there grow trees which -diffuse odours sweet past telling.... Agreeably with this reception of -the idea of Paradise by the people, the fathers of the church also -were compelled to describe Paradise in terms of the senses as well as -of the spirit, thus making certain concessions to popular feeling and -ideas. ‘Some,’ says John of Damascus[1303], ‘have imagined a sensuous -Paradise, others a spiritual Paradise. For my part I think that, just -as man himself has been created with senses as well as with spirit, -so the most holy close (ἱερώτατον τέμενος) to which he has access -appeals alike to the senses and to the spirit.’” The compromise in this -passage is cleverly justified, but it has not lasted; the pagan part -of it alone has survived, and the Paradise of the modern folk is none -other than that abode which Pindar described. Even the rivers thereof, -which are naturally desired above all things by the inhabitants of a -dry and dusty land, were probably not absent from Pindar’s picture; -for Plutarch, to whom we owe the preservation of the fragment, passes -in one passage from actual quotation of the opening lines to a mention -of smooth and tranquil rivers flowing through the land[1304]; and -in the kindred picture of the Islands of the Blest, which Pindar -paints elsewhere, he does not omit to mention the water wherewith the -golden flowers are refreshed[1305]; for in his eyes too water was -the best of earth’s gifts, even as gold was the brightest of wrought -treasures[1306]. - -It was this high appreciation of water which first informed a custom -prevalent all over Greece on the occasion of funerals. As the bier -passes along the road, the friends and neighbours of the dead man empty -at their doorway or from their windows a vessel of water, and usually -throw down the vessel itself to be broken on the stones of the road. -This custom is evidently very old, for in some places the use of the -water, the very essence of the rite, has become obsolete, and all that -remains of the custom is the breaking of a piece of crockery. And even -though in most places the custom is observed in full, its meaning -has generally been forgotten, and curious conjectures have been made -to explain it. Some interpret the custom as a symbol of that which -has befallen the dead man; the vessel is his body, the water is his -soul; the pouring out of the water symbolises the vanishing of the -soul, and the dead body will fall to pieces like the broken crock. -Others say that they pour out the water ‘in order to allay the burning -thirst of the dead man[1307],’ a notion ominously suggestive of the -boon which Dives sought of Lazarus. But the real purpose of the rite -is still known in some of the Cyclades, where exactly the same custom -is followed also on the occasion of a man’s departure from his native -village[1308], to live, as they say, in exile. And the purpose is to -promote the well-being of the dead or of the exile in the new land -to which he is going. The pouring out of the water is in fact a rite -of sympathetic magic designed to secure that the unknown land shall -also be well-watered and pleasant and plentiful; and the breaking of -the vessel which held the water is due, I suppose, to a feeling that -an instrument which has served a magical purpose must not thereafter -be put to profane and mundane uses. This custom then in itself bears -witness how wide-spread is, or has been, the conception of the other -world as a land of delight wherein the pleasant things of this world -shall still abound. - -Thus then it must be acknowledged that two contradictory popular -conceptions of the hereafter have survived side by side as a twofold -inheritance from the ancient world. The one pervades the whole of -Homer; the other is best expounded in a fragment of Pindar[1309]; and -the fundamental difference between them is this, that the one consigns -all the dead alike to gloom and misery, while the other distinguishes -between the future fortunes of the righteous and the unrighteous, and -holds out the hope of happiness in a yet brighter world than this. -Whence came these two conceptions? - -The world which Homer describes is the Achaean world, and I suspect -that his under-world is likewise the Achaean under-world. The Achaean -religion, as exhibited in Homer, is in no way profound. The gods are -only Achaean princes on a yet grander scale, endowed with immortality. -Men’s relations with them are eminently simple and practical; -sacrifice is expected if prayers are to be answered. But both gods -and men are concerned with this upper world only; death closes all -relations between them. The gods are unconcerned, unless it be for some -special favourite; they live on Olympus as aforetime amid feasting, -quarrelling, laughter, and love; but men leave these pursuits and -pastimes, and go down to the misery of Hades’ house; their souls which -fled lamenting from their limbs at the hour of death still exist, -else could they not appear to living men in the visions of night; but -their existence is all misery, for they lack all that made this life -pleasant. Their joys had been the joys of a strenuous, full-blooded -life, the joys of battle, of feasting, of song, of comradeship; and -these joys were no more. The future existence of the soul was, to the -Achaeans, simply the negation of the present bodily life. - -But the religion of a later age was by no means so simple. The -Homeric gods were still worshipped in the old way, and received -their sacrifices in exchange for favours desired or granted. But -there was another element in religion of which Homer shows little -trace--an element of awe and mystery. Homer indeed names the Erinyes -as beings concerned with the punishment of certain sins; but he shows -no knowledge of that awful doctrine of blood-guilt which Aeschylus -associates with them; the murdered man’s power of vengeance is wholly -ignored; for among the Achaeans the next of kin might accept a price at -the hands of the murderer, and allow him to remain in the land[1310], -without himself incurring any pollution or any manifestation of his -dead kinsman’s wrath. Again Homer knows indeed of Demeter as a goddess -connected with the crops; but there is nothing in his casual mention -of her to suggest that the mysteries of her worship transcended the -rites of all the Olympian gods. Yet no one, I suppose, would imagine -that these profounder elements in ancient religion were of post-Homeric -growth or could possibly have been evolved from the transparently -simple religion of the Achaeans. - -On the contrary it is known that the more mysterious rites and -doctrines of the Greek religion were a legacy from the Pelasgians. That -the mysteries of Demeter were Pelasgian in origin is proved by the -localities in which her worship most flourished, and is corroborated -by the explicit statement of Herodotus[1311], who was disposed to -refer other mystic cults also to the same source[1312]. In fact the -co-existence, or even the conflict, of the old Pelasgian and the newer -Achaean religions is constantly recognised in ancient literature, and -to the Pelasgian is ascribed all that most touched men’s hearts, be it -with awe or with pity--with awe as in the conflict between the Erinyes -and the new dynasty of gods whom Apollo and Athene represent, with pity -in the dolorous struggle of Prometheus against the tyrant Zeus. The -Pelasgian religion, with all its horrors, drew the real sympathies of -the mystic Aeschylus; he could worship in deepest reverence Demeter -and her mysteries[1313]; he could worship perhaps even the ‘reverend -goddesses,’ horrible though they were in their displeasure; but his -heart must have been cold towards the usurping Olympian gods. There -is true insight in that passage of Aristophanes[1314] where Aeschylus -summarises the benefits conferred by great poets on the Greek race, -and praises Homer, the Achaean poet, for his lessons in discipline -and valour and warfare, but Orpheus, sometimes reputed the founder of -the Pelasgian mysteries, for instituting religious rites and teaching -men to abstain from bloodshed. And the feelings of Aeschylus were -the feelings of his countrymen. The Athenians boasted of a great -Achaean goddess as the foundress and patroness of their city, but -their personal hopes of future happiness centred in the Pelasgian -Demeter. The same generation of Athenians listened with delight to -Aristophanes’ ridicule of those gods whom Homer accounted greatest, and -were aghast at the thought that the mysteries had been profaned. The -Achaean gods, it would seem, made good figure-heads for the official -religion of the state; they served as majestic patrons of a city, or -of a great national festival where religion was of less real account -than horse-racing, athletics, and commerce; but the hearts of the -people clave to the older, more awful, more mysterious deities of the -Pelasgians, and the holiest sanctuaries[1315] were those which had been -holy long before the intrusion of the Achaean gods. - -It was to this Pelasgian element in Hellenic religion that the doctrine -of future rewards and punishments belonged; for, as we shall see more -fully in the next chapter, participation in the Pelasgian mysteries -of Demeter at Eleusis was held to be an earnest of future bliss, from -which the impure or uninitiated were excluded. - -Thus then there were two popular conceptions of the future life--the -Achaean conception of universal misery in a cold and gloomy -under-world, and the Pelasgian conception which distinguished between -the lots of the righteous and the unrighteous, and held out to some -men the promise of bliss. Now with the former conception, as we have -already seen, the belief that the dead eagerly desired dissolution -is utterly inconsistent; none could be in haste to pass the gates of -Hades with the prospect of nothing but misery within. But where there -were hopes of happiness, the eagerness for dissolution as a means of -attaining thereto is at once intelligible. This desire then, which has -constantly pervaded the mind of the Greek people and has furnished the -single motive of their funeral-rites down to the present day, is of -Pelasgian origin; and if Homer borrowed it and incongruously combined -it with a purely Achaean presentation of the under-world, we must no -more judge of its real meaning by the Homeric setting of it than we -would form an opinion of the place of the Erinyes or of Demeter in -Greek religion by Homer’s occasional references to them. - -The fact then that Homer, in accordance with the Achaean religion, -considered the dissolution of the body to mean the annihilation of -the body and represented the soul as alone entering into the lower -world is wholly immaterial to the present enquiry. It is the Pelasgian -conception of future bliss with which we are concerned; for that alone -can account for the eagerness of the dead to obtain dissolution. What -then are the blissful occupations of the righteous in the other world? -‘Some,’ says Pindar, ‘take their joy in horses and feats of prowess, -and others at the draught-board, and others in the music of lutes.’ -Clearly these dead are very different beings from the souls which -peopled the Homeric under-world. Athletics could be no pastime for -feeble unsubstantial spirits; the game of draughts would be ill suited -to them that have no mind in them[1316]; and those whose thin utterance -is like the squeak[1317] of a bat would get and give little pleasure -by singing to the lute. No; the pursuits of the dead as depicted by -Pindar are the pursuits which men of flesh and blood enjoy; and the -abode in which they dwell, the paradise of flowers and fruits and sweet -odours, is an abode to gladden men of flesh and blood. But a people -whose ideal of future bliss lay in bodily enjoyments cannot surely have -looked forward to the annihilation of the body and the survival of the -soul alone; the joys which they anticipated hereafter presupposed the -continuance of some kind of bodily existence. - -Such a notion moreover cannot but seem more in harmony with the whole -spirit of the Greek world than the Homeric doctrine of the survival -of the soul only. A nation so conspicuous for their love of human -beauty and their delight in the human form could not have viewed the -extinction thereof with any feeling other than the most poignant -regret--a feeling which, as we know, the Homeric doctrine did actually -inspire in those who accepted it. The more thoughtful and hopeful -religion of the Pelasgians, unless it had anticipated the philosophy -of Plato in decrying the body and exalting the soul--an idea of which -there is no trace--was bound to give promise that body as well as soul -should survive death and dissolution. - -Again it may fairly be claimed that in any religion of a profounder -character than the Achaean, in any religion which contains some -positive ideas of the future life and does not view it merely as the -negation of the present life, that which men hope to become in the -future state is something more similar to the deity or deities in -whom they believe. Their conception of godhead and their conception -of their own condition after death are of necessity founded upon the -same ideal of happiness--a happiness which the gods already enjoy and -which men hope to share. The Buddhist looks forward to the day when he -shall become like his deity--even one with his deity--clean from the -grossness of matter, free from bodily desires and necessities, spirit -unalloyed. The Christian believes in a God who became man and survived -the death of man not in the form of a spirit only but with flesh and -bones, and he himself looks forward to the resurrection of the body. -Socrates held that wisdom and goodness were one and pertained to the -soul only, and the God into whose presence his soul would pass after -death was ‘the good and wise God,’ rightly called Hades, that is, the -invisible and spiritual, with whom the soul has kinship[1318]. But -what of the ordinary Greek? His gods were not invisible or spiritual. -Pelasgian and Achaean deities alike were beings of flesh and blood, -robust, active, sensuous; they ate and drank, they waked and slept, -they married, they begot or bore children. Such was the Greek’s -conception of godhead, such his ideal of blessedness. How then should -he look forward to the annihilation of the body with any feeling but -dismay? How could his hopes of future bliss not involve of necessity a -belief in the survival of both body and soul? - -I suggest then that the dissolution of the body, which the dead so -eagerly desired, far from being regarded as a final and complete -severance of soul and body, was in the Pelasgian religion the means of -their re-union in another world. Death was only a temporary severance -of the two entities which together form a living man capable of -enjoying physical pleasures. The soul at the moment of death went down -to the nether world in advance, or, it may be, as is sometimes held -by the peasants of modern Greece[1319], hovered about the body until -its dissolution was complete. But the dead body certainly remained in -this world, at the place where it lay evident to men’s eyes; it could -not pass to the other world at once; it could not ever pass thither -without the assistance of friends still living; it was too gross and -too impotent, bereft of the soul, to make its own way to the home of -the dead. Therefore upon the survivors was imposed the sacred charge -of resolving it into elements more refined, and of enabling it thus to -pass out of human touch and sight to a home which the soul could reach -unaided. When this process was effected by inhumation, the period of -forty days required for complete dissolution was the critical period -in the dead man’s existence; if the body was ‘bound’ and indissoluble -for any cause and the soul re-entered it before the proper time, the -_revenant_ was a pitiable wanderer, sharing in the joys neither of this -world nor of the next; the mourners therefore took such measures as -they could to prevent that calamity, by entertaining the acquaintances -of the dead man and prevailing upon them to revoke any curses wherewith -he was bound, and by laying in the dead man’s mouth a charm which -should bar the soul’s re-entry. When cremation was employed, the -dissolution of the body was more speedy and more sure; and it is not -therefore difficult to understand that the Pelasgians, conscious -though they must have been that in religion they were as far in advance -of the Achaeans as in material civilisation they were behind, should -have early adopted the use of fire in the interests of the dead. But -no matter which rite was employed, the ultimate effect was the same; -the heavy, helpless corpse that had been laid upon the pyre or in the -grave vanished, and nought but the bones remained. Whither then had it -vanished? How had the visible become invisible? Surely by passing from -this visible world to the world invisible. There is nothing to suggest -that this disappearance meant to the Greeks annihilation; that word -indeed had no counterpart in their speech; the strongest term of the -Greek language by which one might attempt, and would still fail, to -render the word ‘annihilate,’ would be ἀφανίζειν or ἀιστοῦν, ‘to make -unseen.’ And on the other hand their conception of future happiness in -another world is positive evidence that they believed dissolution to -mean not annihilation, but the vanishing of the body to be re-united -with the soul in the unseen world. - -I am of course far from suggesting that these views which I have -sketched formed a definite religious doctrine to which every Greek -would have subscribed. No people have evinced greater liberty of -thought on religious matters; no people have been less hampered -by hierarchical limitations and the claims of authority; nowhere -have wider divergences of religious opinion been tolerated; nowhere -else have the advocates of material philosophies and of spiritual -philosophies been brought into sharper contrast and yet held in equal -repute. But it is not with the vagaries of individuals and the new -departures of great thinkers that I am concerned; my purpose is simply -to trace the general trend of thought as regards the relation of body -and soul after death among the mass of the Greek people. - -And in so doing I fully realise the danger of over-statement. Probably -the mass of mankind in religious matters perform many acts without full -consciousness of their motive; they instinctively follow tradition -without enquiring into the meaning and the mutual relation of the -customs with which they comply; and if ever they try to justify to -their reason the acts to which instinct prompts them, they may be at -a loss to form a consistent theory out of the several motives which -they would assign to the several acts. If therefore I try not only -to disengage from among the network of religious and philosophical -speculation a thread of simple popular belief, but also to present -that thread unknotted and continuous, I may be attempting that which -the mass of the Greek people seldom and with difficulty performed -for themselves. To enunciate as a doctrine that which may have been -a subconscious or only partially realised belief--to present as a -consistent theory ideas which, separately apprehended, formed the -acknowledged motives of separate acts, but whose mutual relations were -seldom investigated--to formulate in words that which may have been no -more than a vague aspiration of men’s hearts--this is necessarily to -over-state. There lies the danger. But for my part, while admitting -that in all probability there was among the Greek people of old, -as among the Greek people and others too to-day, a large amount of -unintelligent religion, I claim that some such conception as I have -outlined of the relation between soul and body and of their future -existence is the only possible explanation of the manifold customs and -beliefs relating to death and dissolution which have been discussed, -and fairly represents the general trend of thought among the inheritors -of the Pelasgian religion. - -This conclusion is not a little strengthened by the evidence of a -custom common to both ancient and modern Greece, which presupposes -the continuance of physical desires and needs after death. To make a -present of food indicates a belief on the part of the donor that the -recipient can eat; to make a present of clothing implies a belief that -the recipient has a body to be covered; and it is these two things, -food and clothing, the elementary requisites of living men, which have -most constantly been brought, either at the time of the funeral or -later, as gifts to the dead. Other gifts there were also in different -ages; treasures of wrought gold for the princes of Mycenae; articles of -the toilet for Athenian ladies whose first care even beyond the grave -would be their complexion; toys for the children. But while each grave -that is opened may tell its own story, humorous or pathetic, of those -tastes and pursuits of the occupant for which the same provision was -made in the next world as in this, it is in the supply of the common -necessaries of all mankind that the popular Greek notions concerning -the dead are most clearly revealed; for the custom has continued -without intermission or sensible alteration down to this day. - -In the Mycenaean age the dead were supplied with a store of food at the -time of the funeral, but there is no evidence to show whether the gifts -were renewed subsequently[1320]. I incline to suppose that they were; -for the belief of later ages in some sort of bodily existence after -death has already been traced back to the Pelasgians; and the custom -of later ages therefore of continuing to supply the dead with bodily -necessaries was probably derived from the same source. But in any case -the Mycenaean custom of providing food for the dead at the time of the -funeral is sufficient proof that the dead were thought to have bodily -needs, and therefore also bodily existence. - -The Achaeans of the Homeric age seldom presented the dead man with -gifts of food at the funeral, and never apparently afterwards. The -only gift, if such it can be called, which was commonly burned along -with the dead body was the warrior’s own armour; but it is so natural, -quite apart from any religious motive, for a soldier’s body to be laid -out arrayed in its wonted accoutrements and to have, as it were, a -military funeral, that little importance can attach to it. Other gifts -were rare. The funeral of Patroclus is quite exceptional, and, like -the return of Patroclus’ soul with its urgent petition for burial, -seems wholly inconsistent with the Homeric presentment of after-death -existence. The soul being doomed to a shadowy impotent semblance of -life could have no part in physical needs or pleasures[1321]. Nor does -Homer enlighten us as to the purpose of the abundant gifts, which -included not only food but slaughtered dogs and horses[1322]; he speaks -only of providing ‘all that it beseemeth that a man should have when -he goeth beneath the murky gloom[1323].’ Indeed I question whether -Homer had any clear conception of their utility; they seem rather -to have been vaguely honorific; and since the custom of making such -gifts is neither usual in Homer nor in harmony with his idea of future -existence, I hold it likely that once again he was drawing upon the -Pelasgian religion in order to give to the last rites of Patroclus the -maximum of splendour. - -The Dipylon-period puts an end to all uncertainty; thenceforward down -to the present day the Greek custom of providing the dead with the -necessaries of bodily life will be found to have been uniform and -continuous. There has been no interruption of the simple practice of -providing the dead with food both at the time of the funeral and at -stated intervals thereafter. For the Dipylon-period this has been -proved by the contents of the graves and by the strata of burnt soil -observed at Eleusis[1324] above them. The same phenomena continue -to present themselves also in the case of later graves at Athens, -certainly down to the third century B.C., and, though any detailed -description of graves of a still later date is hard to find, the custom -unquestionably still prevailed; for literary evidence, overlapping that -of archaeology at the start, carries on our knowledge of the custom -into the Christian era. - -The _Choephori_ of Aeschylus takes its very name from the practice of -pouring wine or other beverages on the graves of the dead for them -to consume; and the word χοαί was specially applied to this kind of -libation as opposed to the λοιβαί or σπονδαί wherewith gods were -propitiated. Similarly the Greek language possessed a special word for -gifts of food (or other perishable gifts such as flowers) brought to -the graves of the dead; these were called ἐναγίσματα in strict contrast -with the sacrifices (θυσίαι, etc.) by which gods were appeased[1325]. -These presents of food were regularly made on two occasions at least -after the funeral; there were the τρίτα brought, according to modern -computation, on the second day, and the ἔνατα on the eighth day: how -regular was the custom of bringing them may be judged from the passing -references of Aristophanes[1326], Isaeus[1327], and Aeschines[1328]. -In addition to these two meals there were others either on the -thirtieth day after the funeral or on the thirtieth of each month--for -the interpretation to be put on the term τριακάδες[1329] seems -doubtful--also γενέσια[1330], apparently a birthday-feast given to -the dead, and νεκύσια[1331] to commemorate the anniversary of the -death. The exact details of date however are of minor importance; -the significant fact is this, that at certain intervals after the -well-known περίδειπνον or funeral-feast, held on the day of burial, -other meals were served to the dead; and the Greek words themselves -corroborate the view that ‘meals,’ not ‘sacrifices,’ is the right -term to use; for as the funeral-feast is περίδειπνον, so also the -νεκύσια are called by Artemidorus[1332] not ἱερὰ but δεῖπνα. These -meals, being burnt over the place where the dead body lay, or being -deposited unburnt in some large vase set up at the head of the grave, -were thereby devoted to the use of the dead and became ἐναγίσματα in -that curious half-way sense between ‘sacred’ and ‘accursed’ for which -our language has no equivalent save the imported word ‘taboo’--objects -devoted to a sacred purpose and bringing the curse of desecration on -anyone who should pervert them to another use. The Greek language then -was careful to mark the difference between gifts presented to the -dead and propitiatory offerings made to the gods; and the difference -was observed, not because the presents differed in kind, but because -the conceptions of their purposes were different. The gods demanded -sacrifices under pain of their displeasure; the dead needed food as -living men need it, and their friends supplied it, not in fear, but in -love. - -These old pagan customs were at first discountenanced by the -Church[1333]. But the common people clung to them with great -tenacity[1334], and after a while they appear to have received even -official encouragement; for St Anastasius Sinaites, bishop of Antioch -during the latter half of the sixth century, enjoined the observance of -them, and in so doing used some of the old names by which the customs -were known in pre-Christian times. ‘Perform,’ he wrote, ‘the offices -of the third day (τρίτα) for them that sleep, with psalms and hymns, -because of him who rose from sleep on the third day, and the offices -of the ninth day (ἔνατα) to remind those that yet live of them that -have fallen asleep, and the offices of the fortieth day according to -the old law and form (for even so did the people mourn for Moses), -and the offices of the anniversary in memory of the dead, with gifts -from his substance to the poor as a remembrance of him[1335].’ In this -passage the cloak of Christian decency which St Anastasius provided -does not entirely cover the nakedness of heathen superstition. There is -indeed much aetiological skill in the saint’s manipulation of Biblical -references; but the τρίτα and ἔνατα practised in his day, despite the -addition of Christian prayers and hymns, were without doubt the same -in essence as those to which Aristophanes and others allude--meals -provided for the dead; for such indeed they still remain. - -At the present day the funeral service usually concludes with a -distribution of baked-meats and wine to the company assembled at the -grave-side, and a share of both is given to the dead. In some districts -this function means more than the serving of light refreshments, and -the grave-side becomes the scene of a substantial meal, from which -however meat is excluded; for, owing to Christian ideas of fasting, it -is generally held to be ‘spiritual’ for the mourners to abstain from -meat for the period of forty days. It is to this meal at the graveside -that the word μακαρία seems to be properly applied, in the sense of -a ‘feast of blessing,’ and it obviously corresponds with the term -μακαρίτης, ‘blessed,’ which was in antiquity, and still remains, the -Greek equivalent of our ‘deceased’ or ‘late.’ - -Subsequently, in the evening after the funeral or even on two or -three evenings thereafter, the nearer friends and relatives of the -dead assemble for another funeral-feast. This meal, which in ancient -times was called the περίδειπνον is now commonly known as the -παρηγορία[1336] or ‘comforting.’ It is held in the house of the nearest -relative[1337], as was done in the time of Demosthenes[1338], and its -modern name seems to indicate that the ‘consolation’ of the bereaved is -its chief purpose; and certainly some temporary solace is on many such -occasions poured into the mourners’ breasts; for the Greek peasants, -always abstemious save on certain great festivals such as Easter and -these funeral-parties, make no scruple of drinking and pressing their -host to drink until a riotous cheerfulness prevails. But though the -feast is designed to assuage the grief of the living, the dead are not -forgotten; for a special portion of food is often sent to the grave -from the house of mourning before the guests of the evening arrive. -Thus, though the dead is not felt to have any part in the actual ‘feast -of comforting’--for this feast is really provided by the guests, who -bring their own contributions of food and wine, while the host provides -only the accommodation for the company[1339]--yet the physical needs of -the departed are satisfied on this first day beneath the earth in the -same measure as when he was above ground. Two meals are provided, one -immediately after the funeral, the other in the evening. - -Nor is the nature of this food lacking in interest. Locally indeed many -varieties may be found, the gifts including such ordinary comestibles -as bread, cheese, olives, caviare of the baser sort, _piláf_ (the -well-known Turkish dish of which the main ingredients are rice and -oil), and probably indeed anything, save meat, which the peasant’s -larder can supply; but the most generally approved viand is a specially -baked flat cake spread with honey. Now it will be remembered that jars -of honey were among the gifts of food on the pyre of Patroclus[1340], -but a more striking coincidence is to be found in Aristophanes’ mention -of a μελιτοῦττα or honey-cake in connexion with a funeral. ‘What,’ says -Lysistrata mockingly to the old deputy (πρόβουλος), ‘what do you mean -by not dying? You shall have room to lie; you can buy a coffin; and I -myself will knead you a honey-cake at once[1341].’ From this passage -it would appear that not only has the custom of providing food for the -dead remained in force from very early days, but even the kind of food -has not changed in more than two thousand years. The honey-cake, though -no longer known as μελιτοῦττα, in reference to its chief attraction, -but ψυχόπηττα[1342], ‘soul-cake,’ in reference to the occasion of its -making, is still apparently prepared according to a classical recipe, -and sweetness still gratifies the palate of the dead. - -The dates subsequent to the funeral at which food is provided for -the dead have already[1343] been mentioned. Where the custom is most -fully observed, these are the third, sixth, ninth, and fortieth -days, the last days of the third, sixth, and ninth months, and three -anniversaries, the last of the three being also usually the day for -the exhumation of the bones. But in many villages the custom is less -extended, and it is held sufficient to observe in this way the third, -ninth, and fortieth days[1344] and the first anniversary. This minimum -of modern practice, it will be observed, is the exact tale of days -recommended for observance by St Anastasius, and without doubt the -sanction of the Church has helped to preserve the custom. - -The Church likewise is wholly responsible for the name by which these -days are known, μνημόσυνα or ‘memorial-feasts’; and it would be wrong -to infer therefrom that the peasants attach no meaning to these rites -save that which the name ‘memorial-feast’ suggests. Rather it would -seem that the Church in permitting the continuance of a pagan custom -tried to diminish its significance. The words of St Anastasius make -it clear that such was his attitude. He bids that the anniversary be -observed ‘in memory of the dead, with gifts from his substance to the -poor as a remembrance of him’; and the repetition contained in the -phrase shows in what aspect he wished the custom to be viewed. But as -a matter of fact the real purpose of the custom was not to keep green -the memory of the dead by charitable distributions of his goods, but -partly, as we have seen, to induce those persons who were invited to -the feast to forgive the dead man and to revoke any curses with which -they had bound him, and partly to minister to the dead man’s own bodily -needs; and in spite of ecclesiastical influence to the contrary, this -twofold purpose is still generally recognised, and that portion of the -food which is not consumed by the company invited or by the priests, -but is actually left on the grave, is honestly intended as nourishment -for the dead body there interred. - -This motive was fully appreciated by a French traveller of the -seventeenth century; describing these grave-side feasts, he says, -‘Frequent presents of cakes, wine, rice, fruits, and other eatables, -decked out with flowers and ribbons, are taken to the tomb.’ There, -he continues, the priest blesses the food and takes a good share of -it, and a feast is then held ‘wherein they seek to make the dead -man participate as well[1345].’ Thus even now, after centuries of -Christianity, there seems to be no change of feeling among the -common-folk, and their intention, or one part of it, is still best -summed up in the phrase of Euripides, ‘to render sustenance unto the -dead[1346].’ - -The food proper to these meals subsequent to the day of the funeral is -known as κόλλυβα. It consists of grain, usually wheat, boiled whole, -and thus closely resembles the English ‘frumenty.’ It is sometimes -garnished and made more palatable by the addition of sugar ornaments, -almonds, raisins, and pieces of pomegranate, but the essential thing -is boiled grain[1347]. How the word κόλλυβα obtained this meaning is -not known to me[1348]; but the food itself is quite probably a legacy -from the ancient world. The _silicernium_ or funeral-feast of the -Romans took its name apparently from _siliquae_, some kind of pulse, -which must therefore be supposed to have formed the chief dish; and -beans are at the present day an important part of the funeral-meats in -Sardinia[1349]. It is not unlikely therefore that the use of boiled -beans or grain in the service of the dead is an old custom common to -the coasts of the Mediterranean. The honey-cake on the day of the -funeral is of ancient prescription; the boiled wheat on later occasions -may equally well be so. At any rate the principle of supplying the dead -with meals both at the funeral and on certain fixed days thereafter -remains absolutely unchanged, and the custom is still understood to be -a means of ministering to the bodily needs of the dead. - -And as with the gifts of food, the ancient ἐναγίσματα, so also with -the gifts of drink, the ancient χοαί. It is on record that among the -Greeks of Macedonia, Cappadocia, and other outlying districts[1350], -the custom of pouring out red wine on the graves of the dead at the -so-called memorial-feasts is still sedulously observed; and though I -have nowhere witnessed the practice, I have been told on good authority -that in Aegina also and in some parts of Crete it is in vogue. For the -use of water I can myself answer; and it is not a little interesting to -observe that while the dates on which food is set before the dead man -have been somewhat conventionally limited in number, water, the prime -necessary of life, is often taken to the grave daily[1351] up to the -fortieth day. - -Again, in the matter of providing clothing for the dead, ancient -practice is well known. A store of raiment was buried with the dead, -and so great a store that it was necessary for Solon to impose a -legal limit by which three outer garments (ἱμάτια) were named as -the maximum[1352]. But this restriction applied only to the actual -funeral, and did not prohibit renewed gifts of clothing at subsequent -dates. To judge from a passage of Thucydides, this was an annual duty. -The Plataeans, in their appeal to the Lacedaemonians for protection, -are made to plead their performance of this kindness as a claim upon -Spartan gratitude. ‘Turn your eyes,’ they say, ‘to the tombs of your -fathers, who fell in the Persian wars and were buried in our land. Year -by year we were wont to do them honour at the public charge with gifts -of clothing and all else that is customary[1353].’ - -Some vestiges of this custom remain to the present day. The dead are -commonly dressed in their best clothes for the lying-in-state and for -the procession to the grave, during which, it must be remembered, the -body is always carried on an open bier, exposed to view. Often too -these clothes are buried with the dead; but sometimes when, as among -the poorer peasant-women, the richly-embroidered festival dress is -too costly a thing thus to abandon, and is handed down as an heirloom -from mother to daughter, the body is stripped at the grave-side of its -fine array; and indeed so far, I am told, has the custom degenerated -in Athens and some of the other towns, that costumes of special -magnificence may be hired from the undertakers and sent back from the -churchyard to them. In such cases the old meaning of the custom is -lost, and a vulgar desire for pomp and parade has taken its place. But -among the simpler folk of the country this is not the case; for, apart -from the custom of burying the dead in their best clothes, there is -in the folk-songs mention of gifts of clothing and other necessaries -of life sent by the hand of one recently dead to those who have gone -before[1354]. - -It appears then that the ancient custom of providing for the bodily -wants of the departed is still alive, still significant; and surely it -is incredible that a people who for more than two thousand years have -continued to resort to the graves in which the dead bodies of their -friends are laid, and there to set out meat and drink and clothing and -other things suited to their erstwhile needs and pursuits, could all -along have believed that these gifts were vanity, that the food could -not strengthen, the wine could not cheer, the clothing could not warm -the departed, but that they lay henceforth cold, tasteless, insentient. -For if men had so believed, then a custom, not merely lacking the -alliance of religious belief, but standing in perpetual antagonism to -it, could not have held its ground, as this custom has done, century -after century with vigour unabated. Rather the continuity of the custom -might alone prove, even if other considerations had not guided us to -the same conclusion, that the departed were held to possess a nature -no less corporeal, an existence no less material, than that which -belonged both to living men and to the gods whom they hoped to resemble -even more closely hereafter. The same food as men ate was offered to -the gods in sacrifice that they too might eat; why bring it to the -dead, if they had no power to eat? The wine that men drank was poured -out for the gods in libation, that they too might drink; why waste it -upon the soil of the grave, if the dead had no power to drink? A robe -such as Athenian women wore was presented to Athene year by year, that -she might wear it; why furnish the dead with gifts of raiment, if it -must rot unworn? It is impossible to evade the conclusion that the same -bodily needs and propensities were ascribed by the Greek folk to the -departed as to living men and to deathless gods. - -Thus then the people of Greece are shown to have pursued constantly two -aims in their treatment of the dead--to ensure the dissolution of the -body, and also to provide the body with the necessaries of existence. -Unless therefore anyone is prepared to suppose that the Greek people -have been constantly actuated by two conflicting motives, the desire to -annihilate and the desire to keep alive, dissolution cannot have meant -to them annihilation, but rather a modification of the conditions of -bodily existence; and that modification can only have meant that the -existence of the body in this world indeed ended--for the substance -laid in the grave vanished--but continued in another world. But if -bodily existence continued in that other world whither the soul too -sped, the body and the soul having reached the same place would surely -not be imagined to remain separate, but to be re-united. The eagerness -for dissolution meant therefore eagerness for the re-union of body and -soul. - -And there is a good means of testing the popular belief even as -regards this last step. If the body and soul were really believed to -be re-united as soon as dissolution was complete, the dead man in the -lower world would assuredly be as well able to take care of himself as -he had been while dwelling in this world, and the obligation of his -relatives to provide him with food would cease, although of course -they might, voluntarily and without any compulsion of duty, continue -their gifts[1355]. But it would be at any rate permissible, on this -theory, to discontinue all care for the dead when once his body was no -longer helpless but restored to its activity by re-union with the soul; -and it is to be expected that the Greek people should sometimes avail -themselves of the exemption from the task of feeding and otherwise -tending the dead. Such action would be the natural outcome of the -belief that dissolution meant the re-union of body and soul; and if I -can show that such action has been or is commonly taken, the existence -of the belief will have borne the best test, the demonstration of a -custom arising from it. - -The period required for dissolution, according to common belief, is -either forty days or three years--the former being the really popular -period, while the latter was fixed indeed by the Church but in many -districts has been popularly accepted. Hence, if my views are correct, -the meals provided for the dead and all other marks of care ought -to cease sometimes at the fortieth day and sometimes at the third -anniversary. - -As regards the present time, I do not know of any place, though it -would not surprise me to hear of one, in which the so-called memorial -feasts are discontinued after the fortieth day; but I have already -cited evidence to show that the memorial-feasts of later date are -definitely ecclesiastical in origin, and even retain to this day in -one district a distinctly ecclesiastical tone[1356]. Therefore before -a necessitous priesthood had succeeded in extending the custom, the -ministration to the bodily wants of the dead clearly did cease when -dissolution was popularly supposed to be complete. This conclusion -is fortified by a most striking piece of evidence. The priests’ -interest has naturally been limited to the food and wine supplied to -the dead; for a supply of water they have not been dependent upon the -perquisites of their office. Hence it comes that the water, which, as -I noted above, is often supplied to the dead day by day, without any -accompanying provision of food, ceases to be brought after the fortieth -day. The wants of the dead man have been assiduously satisfied until, -in popular reckoning, his dissolution is complete, and ecclesiastical -influence has had no motive for encouraging a longer continuance of the -custom so far as water is concerned. The fortieth day then was without -doubt the old popular limit of the time during which the supply of all -kinds of provision was obligatory. - -Nowadays, on the contrary, the presents of food to the dead are -generally continued up to the third anniversary, when exhumation -takes place. Then, if the evidence of men’s eyes assures them that -dissolution has been duly effected--that the body is gone and only -the white bones remain--there is no further thought or provision for -the dead; but in the rare cases in which the disintegration of the -corpse is not yet complete, the relatives are not freed from their -obligations. I witnessed a remarkable case of this kind at Leonídi -on the east coast of Laconia. Two graves had just been opened when I -arrived, and the utmost anxiety prevailed because in both cases there -was only partial decomposition--in one case so little that the general -outline of the features could be made out--and it was feared that one -or both of the dead persons had become _vrykolakes_. The remains, -when I saw them, had been removed to the chapel attached to the -burial-ground. Meanwhile the question was debated as to what should be -done with them. Dissolution must be effected both in the interests of -the dead themselves and in those of the whole community. Extraordinary -measures were required. The best measure--I am reporting what I -actually heard--the best measure next to prayer (which had been tried -without effect) was to burn the remains, and the bolder spirits of the -village counselled this plan; but this would have been a breach of law -and order, and the authorities of the place would have none of it. The -priest proposed re-interment; but here the relatives objected. They had -had trouble enough and expense enough; they had kept ‘the unsleeping -lamp’ burning at the grave, and had provided all the memorial feasts; -they would not consent to re-inter the body and to be at the same -charge for an indefinite time, without knowing when the corpse might be -properly ‘loosed’ and their tendance of it over. They would find some -way of dissolving it, and that speedily. - -And so indeed they did; and I, for a short time, was a spectator of -the scene. On the floor of the chapel there were two large baskets -containing the remains; there were men seated beside them busy with -knives; and there were women kneeling at wash-tubs and scouring the -bones that were handed to them with soap and soda. The work continued -for two days. At the end of that time the bones were shown white and -clean. All else had disappeared--had probably been burnt in secret, but -the secret was kept close. It was therefore claimed and allowed that -dissolution was complete. - -The attitude adopted by the relatives on this occasion makes it -perfectly clear that all the care expended on the dead is obligatory -up to the time of dissolution, but no longer. So long as the fleshly -substance remains in this world, provision of food must be made for it; -when it has disappeared and only the bones are left, the departed cease -to be dependent upon their surviving relatives, and no further anxiety -is felt for their welfare. - -Nor must it be supposed that the cleaning and whitening of the bones -in the case which I have described had anything to do with a desire -to preserve the bones as relics of the dead. Such a custom is indeed -well known in Greek monasteries; at Megaspélaeon, for instance, the -wealthiest and most famous monastery of Greece proper, there is an -ossuary in which the monks take great pride. On one side, ranged -against the wall, stands a large triangular heap of skulls; the -opposite wall is decorated with cleverly-designed geometrical figures -carried out in other bones; while in a corner perhaps may be seen a -basket or two full of material awaiting the decorator’s convenience. -My guide, I remember, pointed out to me the skulls of many of the -distinguished monks of past time, and indicated with great satisfaction -the spot which he had bespoken for his own. But the usage of monastic -bodies has in truth little bearing upon the popular semi-pagan beliefs -and customs; the practice of storing up the bones of members of a -religious order in an ossuary is more closely akin to the old custom -of preserving relics of saints and martyrs; it is to the usage of the -common-folk in such matters that we must look. And what do they do -with the white or whitened bones? They throw them away and expend no -more care upon them. At Leonídi itself, close beside the fenced-in -burial-ground, but unprotected from the intrusion of man or beast, -there is a square open pit into which the bones of many generations -have been tipped like rubbish, lying at random in confusion as they -fell. Nor is this a solitary case. In far-away Sciathos I recall -the same scene as at Leonídi--a chapel set on a wooded hill, the -churchyard about it neatly kept and the graves of the recently buried -well-tended, but just beyond its precincts a rough hole in the ground -open to sun and rain, and ‘some two fathoms of bones,’ as a peasant -said jestingly, lying in neglect and disarray. These pits, which are -to be seen throughout Greece, are indeed dignified by the Church with -the name of cemeteries (κοιμητήρια[1357]); but they command no respect -on the part of the peasant. He will cross himself as he passes chapel -or enters churchyard, but he will jest over the depository of outcast -bones. In a word, when it is seen that every trace of the dead body -save only the white bones has disappeared, the common-folk exchange -their extraordinary devotion to the duties of tending the dead for a -total unconcern. And the reason for this can only be that the dead -body no longer lies helpless and dependent for its existence upon the -sustenance which they from time to time provide, but has vanished to -a land where, re-united with the soul, it regains its activity and -independence. - -Such, I believe, is the trend of religious thought which, almost -insensibly, has guided the actions of the Greek people from the -Pelasgian age until now in their treatment of the dead; the benefit -which they have sought to confer upon the dead by the dissolution of -their bodies has been the re-union of body with soul and the resumption -of that active bodily life which death had for a time suspended. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1292] Plato, _Phaedo_ 115 C ff. - -[1293] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 65 ff. - -[1294] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 72. - -[1295] Cf. the constant contrast of αὐτὸς and ψυχή, as in _Iliad_ I. -3-4, and twice in the passage before us, _Il._ XXIII. 65 f. and 106 f. - -[1296] Hom. _Od._ XI. 489 ff. - -[1297] Hom. _Il._ XVI. 857. - -[1298] The few inconsistencies in the _Odyssey_, such as the physical -punishment of Tityos, Tantalos, and Sisyphos (_Od._ XI. 576 ff.), or -again the mention of the ‘asphodel mead’ (_Od._ XI. 539, XXIV. 13), -are unimportant. They are, I think, adventitious Pelasgian elements in -the Homeric scheme of the future life, and it may be noted that the -_Iliad_ is singularly free from them, while in _Odyssey_, Bk XI., where -they chiefly occur, they are obviously incongruous with the general -conception of the lower world. - -[1299] See above, p. 99. - -[1300] Pindar, Fr. 129 (95). - -[1301] See above, p. 345. - -[1302] Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 407 ff. - -[1303] Ἐκθ. ὀρθοδοξ. πίστεως 11 (25); Migne, _Patrolog._ (_ser. -Graec._) Vol. XCIV. p. 916. - -[1304] Plutarch, _de occult. viv._ cap. 7, cited by Bergk in _Lyrici -Graeci_, _ad loc._ - -[1305] Pind. _Ol._ II. 134. - -[1306] Pind. _Ol._ I. 1. - -[1307] νὰ δροσίσουν τὴ λαύρα τοῦ πεθαμένου. - -[1308] Cf. Theodore Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 220. - -[1309] This is of course only one out of several passages in which -Pindar speaks of the future life, and he does not adhere to any one -doctrine; elsewhere, as in _Ol._ II., his views are coloured largely -by Pythagorean or Orphic eschatology, although there is a close -resemblance between the isles of the blest there described (126-135) -and the abode depicted in this fragment. - -[1310] Hom. _Il._ IX. 632 ff. - -[1311] Herod. II. 51. - -[1312] Herod. II. 171. - -[1313] Aristoph. _Frogs_, 884. - -[1314] _Op. cit._ 1032 ff. - -[1315] A conspicuous example is Delphi, where the Achaean god Apollo -had usurped the place of some oracular deity of the Pelasgians, cf. -Plutarch, _de defect. orac._ cap. 15 p. 418. See Miss Harrison, -_Proleg. to the Study of Greek Religion_, pp. 113 f. - -[1316] _Il._ XXIII. 104. - -[1317] _Il._ XXIII. 101. - -[1318] Plato, _Phaedo_, cap. 29 (p. 80 D). - -[1319] Cf. Κωνστ. Ν. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 341. - -[1320] Rohde (_Psyche_ I. cap. 1) contends that the discovery of -an altar, of the type used in the worship of Chthonian deities, -superimposed upon one Mycenaean grave, proves both that offerings to -the dead were continued after the interment and also that the offerings -were of a propitiatory character. On this slight foundation he rears -the edifice of his theory that a vigorous soul-cult flourished in -Mycenaean and earlier ages. Accordingly he views all gifts to the dead, -including those made at the time of the funeral, as offerings intended -to propitiate departed souls, although he is forced to admit that from -the Homeric age onwards there is no evidence that fear of the dead was -a feature of Greek religion; the offerings made, on his view, to the -soul of Patroclus were merely, he holds, a ‘survival,’ a custom no -longer possessed of any meaning. The accident of an altar belonging -to some Chthonian deity having been found above the grave of some man -seems to me insufficient basis for any theory. - -[1321] The blood which in the _Odyssey_ is used to attract the souls of -the dead and is given to Teiresias to drink forms, I imagine, part of a -magic rite, which has no connexion with the present point. - -[1322] I omit the twelve Trojan prisoners; the slaughter of these is -clearly stated to have been an act of revenge. See _Il._ XXIII. 22 f. - -[1323] _Il._ XXIII. 50. - -[1324] Φίλιος, in Ἐφημερὶς Ἀρχαιολ. 1889, p. 183. Possibly also at -Athens, cf. Brückner and Pernice, in _Athen. Mittheil._ 1893, pp. 89-90. - -[1325] I am not overlooking the fact that ἐναγίσματα were also made -to Chthonian deities (cf. Pausan. VIII. 34. 3), but there was a -distinction in character even between these ἐναγίσματα and those made -to the dead. Wine, for example, was excluded from the former and -included in the latter. Possibly in origin ἐναγίζειν was the Pelasgian -rite, θύειν the Achaean. - -[1326] _Lysist._ 611. - -[1327] _Menecl._ 46 and _Ciron_ 55 (p. 73. 26). - -[1328] _Ctesiphon_, 226 (p. 86. 5). - -[1329] Pollux VIII. 146; Harpocrat. s.v. τριακάς. - -[1330] Herod. IV. 26. - -[1331] Artem. _Oneirocr._ IV. 83. - -[1332] _loc. cit._ - -[1333] Bingham, _Antiq. of Christian Church_, Bk 23, cap. 3. - -[1334] See Chrysostom, _Homily_ 47 in 1 Cor., p. 565. - -[1335] Anastasius, _Quaestio_ XXII., in Migne, _Patrolog. Graeco-Lat._ -Vol. LXXXIX. 288. - -[1336] Known also as τὸ ζεστόν (‘the warming’) according to Bybilakis, -_Neugriech. Leben_, p. 67. - -[1337] According to Bybilakis, _loc. cit._, in the dead man’s house. -This, naturally, would be the usual case. - -[1338] p. 321. 25. - -[1339] Hence it is probable that the ancient περίδειπνον also was -conducted on the principle of the ἔρανος. - -[1340] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 170. Cf. also the use of μελίκρατον, Hom. -_Od._ XI. 27, and Eur. _Or._ 115. Cf. also Aesch. _Pers._ 614. - -[1341] Ar. _Lys._ 599 ff. - -[1342] In some villages of Chios, the diminutive ψυχοπῆττι or a word -ψύτση is used (Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 337). The commoner -form ψυχόπηττα is that of Crete (cf. Bybilakis, _op. cit._ p. 69), -Kasos, and other Asiatic islands (Πρωτόδικος, περὶ τῆς παρ’ ἡμῖν ταφῆς, -p. 17) etc. - -[1343] See above, pp. 486-7. - -[1344] Called respectively τρίμερα, ἐννι̯άμερα, and σαράντα. - -[1345] Sonnini de Magnoncourt, _Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie_, Vol. -II. p. 153. - -[1346] Eur. _Or._ 109. - -[1347] Cf. Suidas s.v. κόλυβα, σῖτος ἑψητός. The spelling with λλ is -preferable. - -[1348] The classical meaning of κόλλυβα was ‘small coins.’ The -scholiast on Aristoph. _Plut._ 768 mentions κόλλυβα among the -καταχύσματα thrown over a new slave on his introduction to the -household. These consisted mainly of sweetmeats, etc. (cf. _op. cit._ -798) whence apparently Hesychius (s.v. κόλλυβα) explains that word by -τρωγάλια. More probably small coins were thrown along with various -sweetmeats; for the kindred custom of throwing καταχύσματα over a bride -on her entry into her new home has continued down to the present day, -and these certainly now comprise small change as well as sticky edibles. - -[1349] Gregorovius, _Wanderings in Corsica, etc._ (tr. Muir), II. p. 46. - -[1350] Πρωτόδικος, περὶ τῆς παρ’ ἡμῖν ταφῆς, p. 17. Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, ἡ -Σινασός, p. 92. - -[1351] Cf. Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, p. 67. - -[1352] Plutarch, _Vita Solon._ cap. 21. - -[1353] Thucyd. III. 58. 4. - -[1354] See above, p. 345. - -[1355] This occurred in old time in the case of heroes, whose offerings -are called ἐναγίσματα and χοαί, like those of other dead men; but since -the state and not the individual provided for them, the gifts were made -not for a time only, but regularly year after year. - -[1356] See above, pp. 487 f. - -[1357] As opposed, in correct speech, to νεκροταφεῖον, the place of -preliminary interment. But the two terms are often confused. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE UNION OF GODS AND MEN. - - -The similitude of death with sleep is an idea of ancient date and of -wide distribution, which for many of mankind, whatever be the creed -professed, has mitigated the fears or lightened the uncertainties which -attach to the cessation of this life. Adopted by the founder of the -Christian religion as an illustration of the doctrine that men ‘shall -rise again with their bodies,’ the thought has become a part of the -heritage of Christendom, and in our own language the word ‘cemetery’ -bears testimony to it. But the idea had been evolved by pagan thought -long centuries before the dawn of Christianity, and probably enough by -the thinkers and poets of many nations independently one of another. In -the oldest literature of Greece we meet with the thought already fully -developed and evidently familiar. ‘To sleep an iron slumber[1358]’ is -already in Homeric language a simple and natural synonym for ‘to die’; -and so too we are told that in the far off golden age men ‘died as it -were overborne by sleep[1359].’ And in yet plainer terms, where Death -and Sleep are personified, they are spoken of as twin brethren[1360], -the children of Night[1361]. This conception seems too to have been a -favourite in art[1362], and provided one of the scenes on the renowned -chest of Cypselus[1363]. - -When we turn to the folk-songs of the present day, we cannot of course -hope to find the imagery of Death and Sleep pourtrayed as infants -sleeping in the lap of Night, nor indeed, so far as I know, are they -even described as brothers; for the personification of them by the -modern peasants is rare. But the old resemblance between them is still -recognised, and, quite apart from Christian influence, the thought -finds natural expression in those largely pagan improvisations of -mourning in which the name of Charon is to be heard more frequently -than the name of God. It will suffice to quote but one stanza from one -of the most simple and touching of these funeral-songs: - - δὲν εἶν’ πεθαμένη, - τὴν ὄψι τηρᾶτε, - κοιμᾶται, κοιμᾶται, - εἰς ὕπνο βαθύ[1364]. - - Not dead lies the maiden, - Doubt not, but behold her, - ’Tis sleep doth enfold her - In slumber profound. - -Now this idea, born in some long-forgotten pagan age, fostered by Homer -and Hesiod and no less tenderly by the Christian Church, familiar -to every Greek mind for full three thousand years, harmonizes well -with the belief that body as well as soul survives death. Beyond -the superficial resemblance in the inert figures of the dead man -laid out for burial and of one who sleeps soundly, there was another -and profounder resemblance in the manner of their waking to fresh -activity, the one in this world, the other in the under-world. Homer, -with his belief that the soul alone, survives, notes only the first -resemblance. The twofold property of laying men to sleep and of raising -them therefrom resided fitly in the wand of Hermes the escorter of the -dead; but though he escorted men’s souls to the house of Hades and -might at will summon their souls thence[1365], there is no suggestion -of a bodily awakening from the sleep of death. But Virgil, even in his -close imitation of Homer, adds to the Homeric description of Hermes’ -wand one phrase of his own. ‘Therewith doth he summon forth from Orcus -the pale spirits of the dead, and others doth he send down to gloomy -Tartarus; therewith he giveth sleep and taketh it away’--so far does -Virgil follow Homer, but he adds--‘and unsealeth men’s eyes from -death[1366].’ The Homeric picture is enriched by a new thought, foreign -to the Achaean religion but proper to that other belief which inspired -Pindar’s description of the future life, the thought that after death -and dissolution, men’s eyes should open upon a brighter world and a -life of renewed bodily activity. - -Such was the thought with which the pagans of ancient Greece had -comforted themselves long before Christianity availed itself of the -same imagery. But the Hellenic religion went yet further, and found in -this thought not only peace and contentment but vivid joy. The sleep -of death was the means whereby men should attain to closer communion -with their gods. The grave was a bed, but a bed of delight rather than -of rest, a bridal bed. They should not sleep alone, but in the very -embrace of the gods to whom in this life they had striven to draw nigh. -The darkness of the tomb was but the wedding-night. Full union in the -other world should be the consummation of partial communion in this. -The marriage of men with their gods was the ideal to which Greek piety -dared aspire. - -Such an ideal may well seem bold even to the verge of impious -presumption. But Greek religion, even in its highest developments, -was the natural and spontaneous expression of the beliefs and hopes -of a whole people; it differed from all the great religions of the -modern world in having no founder. Great teachers no doubt arose, as -Orpheus or Pythagoras, who influenced the course of religious thought; -but they were not the founders of new religions. The old self-grown -faiths of the people were the stocks upon which they grafted, as it -would seem, even their new doctrines; they founded schools indeed, -but schools which did not sever themselves from the received religion -and become sects. The Orphic mysteries differed so little from the -old Pelasgian mysteries of Eleusis that Orpheus was sometimes even -reputed to be their founder too; yet, as we shall see, the Eleusinian -rites were merely one presentment of a conception common to the whole -Greek people. If then this ideal of marriage between men and gods -in the future life was no invented or imported doctrine, but simply -the highest development of purely popular aspirations towards close -communion with the gods, its audacity is less surprising. From time -immemorial down to this day[1367] Greece has had its popular stories of -nuptial union even in this life between gods and mortal women, between -goddesses and mortal men; and educated Greeks, who could not credit -such occurrences in their own times, might well believe that a joy, -which had been granted to the brave men and fair women of a former and -better age even during their life-time upon earth, was still reserved -for the righteous in the world to come. Pausanias tells us with a -wonderful simplicity that in his time owing to the increase of iniquity -in all the world no one was changed from a man into a god, and that the -wrath of the gods against the unrighteous was laid up against the time -when they should quit this earth[1368]. If then there was believed to -be a postponement of punishment for those who offended the gods, there -might well be a reservation of blessedness for those who pleased them. -It would have imposed no strain upon the faith of such as Pausanias to -look forward to the enjoyment in a future life of the same bliss as -had been enjoyed in old time upon earth by men ‘who by reason of their -uprightness and piety sat at the same hospitable board as gods, and -whom the gods openly visited with honour for their goodness even as -they visited the wicked with their displeasure[1369],’ men who, as many -an old legend told, had shared not the board only but even the bed of -deities. - -This curious Greek conception of death as a form of marriage was -first borne in upon me by the funeral-dirges of the modern peasants. -Examples may be found in any collection of Greek folk-songs. The actual -expression of the thought varies considerably, but it would probably be -hard to find in Greece any professional mourner in whose elaborations -the idea did not occupy an important place. It is utilised with -equal frequency in regard to persons of either sex, whether married -or unmarried at the time of death. The two following specimens from -Passow’s collection are fairly representative. - - ‘Ah me! ah me! the hours of youth and days all past and over, - Haply shall they return again, those hours of youth regretted?’ - ‘Nay when the crow dons plumage white, when crow to dove is changèd, - Then only shall they come again, those hours of youth lamented.’ - ‘Oh fare ye well, high mountain-tops and fir-trees rich in shadow, - For I must go to marry me, to take a wife unto me; - The black earth for my wife I take, the tombstone as her mother - And yonder little pebbles all her brethren and her sisters[1370].’ - -Here evidently we have the funeral-dirge of an old man, and, as -is usual in these poems, a large part of the words are put into -his mouth. In this fragment the first two lines are the dead man’s -complaint, the next two are an answer returned to him, and then again -he takes up his parable. The second example which I will give is from -a lamentation for a young girl. The first few lines are addressed by -the father and mother to their dead child, and with a quaint directness -contrast the gloom of the lower world with the simple joys of a -peasant’s life here above; while the last three lines are an answer put -into the dead girl’s mouth. - - ‘Dear child, there where thou purposest to hie thee down, in Hades, - There, sure, no cock doth ever crow, nor hen is heard a-clucking, - There is no spring of water found, nor grass in meadows growing. - Art hungered? nought thou tastest there; athirst? there nought thou drinkest; - Would’st lay thee down and take thy rest? of sleep no fill thou takest. - Then stay, dear child, in thine own house, stay then with thine own kindred.’ - ‘Nay, I may not, dear father mine and mother deep-beloved, - Yesterday was my marriage-day, late yestere’en my wedding, - Hades I for my husband have, the tomb for my new mother[1371].’ - -In this dirge, it may be noticed, there is no complaint on the part of -the dead girl; the lamentation and the gloomy description of Hades are -assigned to her parents. And indeed her reply is, I think, intended -to be by way of consolation. It is true that she does not deny their -cheerless prognostications nor attempt to paint a brighter picture of -the nether world, but she represents her death as no greater breaking -of old ties than is marriage; at an actual marriage indeed the same -kind of distressful presages are chanted by the girl’s companions, and -even the bride herself is bound by propriety to exhibit a sullen and -regretful demeanour. Very true of Greek marriages and of Greek funerals -is the proverb, μηδ’ ἀπὸ τὴ λύπη λείπουν γέλια μηδ’ ἀπὸ τὴ χαρὰ τὰ -κλάμματα[1372], ‘Mourning hath its mirth and joy its tears.’ But the -consolatory tone is far more pronounced in some other passages from -the same collection. A good example is found in the message which a -_Klepht_--one of those patriot-outlaws who struggled against Turkish -domination--is made to send, as he lies dying, to his mother: - - ‘Go, tell ye now my mother dear, my mother sore-afflicted, - Ne’er to await me home again, ne’er to abide my coming; - Yet tell her not that I am slain, tell her not I am fallen; - Nay, tell her then that I am wed--wed in these wilds so weary. - The black earth for my wife I took, the hard rock my bride’s mother, - And all the little pebbles here I took for my new kindred[1373].’ - -The feeling displayed in these lines (which are credited by Passow -to the town of Livadia (Λεβαδεία) in Boeotia) finds closely similar -expression in a recently-published Macedonian folk-song. The latter -however is not a mere copy of the former. Its metre is different, -and further it is a folk-song of the romantic order, whereas the -lines which I have quoted belong to an historical ballad. A youth is -lowered by his brothers, so runs the story, into a well to get water -for them, but the well proves to be haunted by a snake-like monster -(στοιχειό[1374]) from whom they try in vain to rescue him. In this -plight he cries to them: - - ‘Oh leave me, brothers, leave me, go ye on your way, - And say not to my mother dear that I am dead, - But tell her, brothers, tell her how that I am wed; - The black earth for my wife I took, the tombstone my bride’s mother, - And all these little blades of grass her brethren and her sisters[1375].’ - -Even more remarkable in its total absence of grief is a fragment -given by Passow under the title of ‘the Wedding in Hades.’ The -lamentation--for technically at least the poem falls into the class -of ‘dirges’--is sung by a mother for her son, and she speaks of her -own mother, who is already dead and in the nether world, as making -preparation for the boy’s wedding in Hades. - - ‘My mother maketh glad to-day, she maketh my son’s wedding, - She goeth for water to the springs, for snow unto the mountains, - To fruit-wives in their garden-plots for apples and for quinces. - “Ye springs,” she saith, “give water cool, and give me snow, ye mountains, - Ye fruit-wives in your garden-plots, give apples and give quinces. - For unto me a dear one comes down from the world above us; - Not from a strange land cometh he, nor from among strange people, - He is the child of mine own child, right dear and deep-beloved.”[1376]’ - -From these passages and from many others conceived in the same spirit -it will readily be seen that the thought of death as a kind of -marriage, however mystical it may seem to us, is familiar to the modern -Greek peasants. Nor has that thought become crystallised into a set -form of words to be repeated without heed or understanding of their -meaning. The very variety of treatment given to the idea proves that -we are not dealing with a mere traditional expression or unmeaning -commonplace, but with a vital belief still capable of stirring the -ballad-maker’s imagination. Further it is this thought which almost -alone strikes a note of cheerfulness and of hope in the popular dirges. -The usual picture of the lower world is nothing but gloom and despair. -It is a place of darkness on which the sun never shines, a place of ice -and snow, and full of cob-webs. There are no churches there with bright -golden icons; no quoits for the young men to throw; no looms for the -women to ply. Hunger is not appeased, thirst not quenched, and sleep -is denied. All is mourning and regret for the warm stirring life of -the upper world, and anxious fears for wife or children left behind. -Happy those who are allowed even to taste of the river of death, and to -forget their homes and orphaned little ones. Thus with strange medley -of ancient and modern is the dirge-singer wont to describe that lower -world to which all the dead without distinction go. Yet even into these -dirges, which--in order to excite the mourners to wilder displays of -grief--purposely emphasize the gloomiest aspects of death, there is -allowed to enter the one cheering thought that the departed for whom -lamentation is made is not dead nor yet fallen on eternal sleep, but -wedded in a new world; and it is worthy of notice that it is with this -thought that many of the dirges end, as if this one consolation and -hope were designed to assuage the pangs of sorrow which the first part -of the dirge had excited. - -Thus a brief study of the modern Greek dirges reveals to us the curious -fact that a mystic conception of death is widely prevalent among the -simple-minded peasants of Greece, and that, with all their _naïveté_ -in pourtraying the horrors of the lower world, it is from a recondite -doctrine that they draw consolation. How came they to be the stewards -of a doctrine so strange, so remote from the primitive simplicity of -their ordinary life? - -Once more we must look back to a pre-Christian antiquity, and seek -again in Greek Tragedy the evidence of popular belief. Just as -Aeschylus above all others has preserved to us the awful doctrine of -future retribution for the deadly sin of blood-guilt, so from Sophocles -we may learn the more comfortable doctrine that death, while it -involves a parting from friends in this upper world, is also the means -of drawing nearer, in an union as it were of wedlock, to the denizens -of the lower world. The _locus classicus_ for this conception is the -_Antigone_. Throughout the latter part of that play, when once the -doom of Antigone has been pronounced, the thought of her death as a -wedding, and of the rock-hewn tomb where she is to be immured as a -bridal-chamber, finds repeated and emphatic expression. - -Of course it may be said that Antigone was the promised bride of -Haemon, and that the poet in speaking of her tomb as a bridal-chamber -was seeking to accentuate the pathetic contrast between her hopes -and her destiny. That is true; but perhaps it is not the whole -truth; perhaps Sophocles rather utilised the evident pathos of the -situation for the purpose of covert allusion to doctrines which were -in themselves unspeakable, such as Herodotus would have passed over -with the words εὔστομα κείσθω. For we must not forget that the majority -of an Athenian audience, initiated as they naturally would be in the -Eleusinian mysteries, were familiar with religious teachings of which -none might make explicit mention in the pages of literature open to the -profane, but at which a poet might well hint in words which beneath -their superficial meaning hid a truth intelligible to such as had ears -to hear. Aeschylus indeed had once ventured too far in his allusions -to the mysteries[1377]; but there is no improbability, or rather there -is on that account an increased probability, in the supposition that a -discreet and veiled allusion to unspeakable doctrines was permitted to -the Tragic poet. Let us turn to the actual passages of the _Antigone_. - -The first suggestion of the thought comes ironically enough, though -it is but a faint suggestion, from the lips of Creon, who to Ismene’s -exclamation, “Wilt thou indeed bereave thine own son of her?” retorts -“’Tis Hades’ part to arrest this wedding[1378].” The thought is -taken up later by the Chorus, who, after their hymn in honour of -unconquerable Love, revert to words of pity for the woman there before -them, and tell how they can no longer check the founts of tears, when -they behold Antigone drawing near to ‘the bed-chamber where all must -sleep’ (τὸν παγκοίταν θάλαμον)[1379]. Here the expression of the idea -is becoming plainer, and it is no accident that the word θάλαμος, so -commonly used of the bride-chamber, is here selected. But yet clearer -words are to follow; for Antigone herself, in response to these words -of compassion from the Chorus, interprets more boldly that at which -they hint. ‘Me doth Hades, with whom all must sleep, bear off yet -alive to Acheron’s shore, me that have had no part in wedlock, whose -name hath never rung forth in bridal hymn, but ’tis Acheron I shall -wed[1380].’ - -Nor does this clear pronouncement stand alone; thrice more, as the play -advances, the same thought is echoed in unmistakeable tones. First -comes the opening of that half impassioned, half sophistic, speech -of Antigone, from which some critics would delete her argumentative -estimate of a brother’s claims as against those of a husband; but -the removal of those lines would still leave intact that outburst, -‘Oh tomb, oh bride-chamber, oh cavernous abode of everlasting -durance[1381].’ And then again in the speech of the messenger, who -bears tidings of the fate of both Antigone and her lover, the same -thought is pressed upon us with double insistence. First he tells how, -having given Polynices his full rites of burial, they turned to go next -‘unto the vaulted chamber where on couch of rock the maiden should be -wed with Hades’ (πρὸς λιθόστρωτον κόρης νυμφεῖον Ἅιδου κοῖλον), and -from afar is heard the voice of loud lament beside ‘the bridal chamber -unhallowed by funeral rites’ (ἀκτέριστον ἀμφὶ παστάδα[1382]). And -later in the same narrative, when we have heard how that voice of loud -lament was stilled, Haemon is pictured as lying dead in Antigone’s dead -embrace, having won his bridal’s fulfilment only in Hades’ house (τὰ -νυμφικὰ τέλη λαχὼν δείλαιος ἐν γ’ Ἅιδου δόμοις)[1383]. - -The reiteration of a single thought through all this series of passages -is most remarkable. What does it mean? Did Sophocles intend merely to -enhance the tragedy of Antigone’s doom by constant comparison of that -which might have been with that which was? Or did each phrase in which -the thoughts of marriage and of death were blended contain a further -and a subtler appeal to his hearers’ emotions? Did each phrase strike -also a note which set vibrating in his listeners’ hearts responsive -chords of mystic hope? - -For my part, as I draw near the end of these studies in Greek -religion, I find it more and more difficult to set down as mere casual -coincidences the close resemblances between Greece in the past and -Greece in the present. I have found a belief in the supernatural beings -of Ancient Greece still swaying the minds of the modern peasants; I -have seen the customs of antiquity repeated alike in the small acts -of every-day life and in the ceremonies of its greater events; I have -heard the same thoughts expressed in almost the same turns of phrase -as in ancient literature; I have traced the popular conceptions of -the present day concerning the relations of body and soul, and their -existence after death, back to native pre-Christian sources. Have I -then not a right, am I not bound, to abjure coincidence and to claim -for the past and the present real identity? When I find in Sophocles -the same thought, almost the same words, which may be gathered to-day -from the lips of any unlettered lament-maker the whole Greek world -over, I am compelled by my conviction of the continuity of all things -Greek to believe that Sophocles adapted to his own use a thought which -in his time even as now was uttered in many a funeral-dirge, and that -while the phrases of the _Antigone_ gained in his hands a new lustre -from the pathos of their setting, they themselves were not new nor the -invention of Sophocles’ genius, but an old heritage of the Greek race. -Maybe it was that same thought which gave birth to the strange and but -partially known legend of the death of Hymenaeus himself in the first -moment of his wedded delight[1384]; maybe it was in the same spirit -that Prometheus foretold how Zeus himself should make such a marriage -as should cast him down from his throne of tyranny and he be no more -seen, in fulfilment of the curse uttered by Cronos when he was cast -down into the unseen world[1385]. - -But, it may be said, the forebodings of Prometheus are generally -taken to refer to a future marriage with Thetis, not with death; and -Pindar’s reference to Hymenaeus is vague and fragmentary; and the lines -of Sophocles’ _Antigone_ have plenty of human pathos, without reading -into them any religious doctrine; let your contention at least have -the support of sober prose which shows its meaning on the surface. So -be it. Artemidorus in his hand-book to the interpretation of dreams -claims as a recognised religious principle the correlation of marriage -and death. To dream of the one is commonly a prognostication of the -other. But let us hear his own words. “If an unmarried man dream of -death, it foretells his marriage; for both alike, marriage and death, -have universally been held by mankind to be ‘fulfilments’ (τέλη); and -they are constantly indicated by one another; for the which reason also -if sick men dream of marriage, it is a foreboding of death[1386].” And -again: ‘if a sick person dream of sexual intercourse with a god or -goddess ..., it is a sign of death; for it is then, when the soul is -near leaving the body which it inhabits, that it foresees union and -intercourse with the gods[1387].’ And yet once more: ‘since indeed -marriage is akin to death and is indicated by dreaming of death, I -thought it well to touch upon it here. If a sick man dreams of marrying -a maiden, it is a sign of his death; for all the accompaniments of -marriage are exactly the same as those of death[1388].’ The gist of -these passages is unmistakeable; in clear and straightforward terms -is enunciated the principle that death and marriage are so intimately -associated that to dream of the one may portend the happening of the -other. Here is the doctrine which we sought to elicit from the poetry -of Sophocles and from the dirges of modern peasants, stated in plain -prosaic language. Death is akin to marriage, and, as death approaches, -men’s souls foresee a wedded union with gods. - -But Artemidorus does not merely vouch for the existence of this mystic -doctrine; he suggests also, to those who will weigh his words, that -the doctrine was generally recognised and widely-spread: ‘for all the -accompaniments of marriage,’ he says, ‘are exactly the same as those -of death.’ What were these accompaniments? Seemingly Artemidorus had -in mind certain customs which he had enumerated a little earlier, -namely ‘an escort of friends, both men and women, and garlands and -scents and unguents and an inventory of goods[1389]’ (i.e. either the -marriage settlement or the last will and testament). It is then owing -to this similarity between marriage-customs and funeral-customs that -‘if a sick man dreams of marrying a maiden, it is a sign of death.’ But -previously we heard that if a sick person dreamt of commerce with a -god or goddess, it was a sign of death, because, as death approached, -the soul foresaw union and intercourse with the gods. How far do these -statements agree? In both cases the interpretation of the dream is -the same--to dream of marriage forebodes death--while the reasons for -that interpretation are differently given according as the partner -in the dreamt-of union is divine or human. But, though differently -given, these reasons are not mutually inconsistent. In the one case the -reason assigned is an idea--the idea that by death men were admitted -to wedded union with their gods. In the other case the reason assigned -is a custom--the custom of giving to the dead rites similar to the -marriage-rites. In effect then the two reasons assigned are one and the -same in spirit; for the ‘custom’ is merely the practical expression of -the ‘idea’; it was because men believed that the dead attained to a -wedded union with their gods, that they made the funeral-rites resemble -the rites of marriage. And clearly this custom of assimilating the -accompaniments of death to those of marriage could never have been -general, as Artemidorus suggests, unless the belief, on which that -custom was founded, had also been generally received and widely spread. - -It will be worth while then to institute an enquiry into the customs -generally observed both in ancient and modern times at weddings and at -funerals. Our comparison of ancient literature with modern folk-songs, -illumined by the statements of Artemidorus, has established the fact -that death and marriage were very intimately associated in thought -by some of the ancient writers as they are by many of the modern -peasants. Custom will be found to tell the same tale, and will prove -how generally accepted was this idea. For in point after point which -Artemidorus does not mention in his brief enumeration--and without -reckoning, as he does, such purely business matters as the inventory -of goods--we shall find that the ceremonies incidental to a funeral -have now, and had in old time, a curiously close resemblance to the -ceremonies incidental to marriage; and, so finding, we may be confident -that they were informed by a general and wide-spread belief that to die -was but to marry into Hades’ house. Let us review them briefly and in -order[1390]. - -The first ceremony in both functions alike was, and is, a solemn -ablution. Before a Greek wedding both bride and bridegroom have always -been required to bathe themselves, usually in water specially fetched -from some holy spring. At Athens in old time, according to Thucydides, -the spring frequented for this purpose was Callirrhoë[1391]; and -similarly the Thebans had resort to the Ismenus[1392], the maidens -of the Troad to the Scamander[1393], and the inhabitants of other -districts to some spring or river of local repute[1394]. And at -the present day in Athens it is still from Callirrhoë (when there -is any water there) that the poorer classes fill the bridal bath; -while many a village has its own sacred well or fountain (ἅγι̯ασμα) -to which recourse is regularly had for this same purpose. And this -wedding-ablution, common, as it would thus appear, to the Greeks of -all ages, has its counterpart in the funeral-ablution, a ceremony -likewise observed in all ages. Thus Sophocles makes Antigone speak of -having washed with her own hands the dead bodies of father, mother, -and brother[1395]; and Lucian in a mocking tone refers to the same -practice as general in his day[1396]. At the present day the same rite -is practically universal in Greece. In some places, and most notably in -Crete, special magnificence is given to the ceremony by the use of warm -wine instead of water; in others, as Macedonia[1397], the custom has -dwindled away, and all that remains of it is a perfunctory moistening -of the dead man’s face with a piece of cotton-wool soaked in wine. But -in general the old custom remains unchanged. Thus we see that from -ancient times down to the present day a ceremony of ablution has held a -place in the preliminaries alike of a marriage and of a funeral. - -Again in this matter of washing there is one detail of special -interest. The water for the bridal bath was in old times fetched by a -boy or girl[1398] closely related to the bride or the bridegroom, and -the λουτροφόρος, as the bearer was called, is still an important figure -in the wedding ceremonial of the present day. Nowadays, so far as I -know, the bearer is always a boy, and further it is essential that both -his parents be still living. The λουτροφόρος therefore has always been -closely associated with the marriage-rite. But in antiquity the same -water-bearer appears in another connexion. ‘It was customary,’ we hear, -‘to fetch water (λουτροφορεῖν) also for those who died unmarried, and -that the figure of a water-bearer (λουτροφόρον) should be set up over -their tomb. The figure was that of a boy with a pitcher[1399].’ Here we -have a clear case of the importation of a ceremony closely connected -with marriage into the funeral-rites of the unmarried. How are we -to explain this custom? On what religious conception was it based? -Clearly, it seems,--in view of that constant association of death -and marriage which we have observed in ancient literature and modern -folk-song--no other interpretation can well be maintained than that, -for those who died unwed, death itself was the first and only marriage -which they experienced, and that to such, ere they were laid in Hades’ -nuptial-chamber, there ought to be given those same rites which were -held to be a fitting preparation for entrance into the estate of -wedlock in this world[1400]. - -The ceremonial ablutions being concluded, there came next the rites of -anointing and arraying whether for marriage or for burial. As regards -the cosmetics, we might feel well assured, even without the direct -testimony of Aristophanes[1401], that they were freely used in ancient -weddings; and I myself have experienced a sense of suffocation from the -same cause at weddings in modern Greece. Similarly at ancient funerals -the original purpose of the _lecythi_ was without doubt to contain the -choice perfumes for the anointing of the dead[1402]; and the custom -of anointing is still well known. Then again in the matter of dress, -the colour usually considered correct[1403] both for marriage and -for burial was white, and, even if this cannot be said to have been -universally the case, at any rate there was, and there still continues -to be, no less pomp and ornament in the dress of the dead body[1404] -than in the array of bride and bridegroom. - -In this connexion too we may notice the use of the actual bridal-dress -in the funerals of betrothed girls and of young wives. That -this practice was known in antiquity is proved by a passage of -Chariton[1405], in which the heroine of his story, Callirrhoë, whose -first adventure, soon after her wedding, consists in being carried out -to burial while unconscious but not dead, is described as ‘dressed in -bridal array’; and exactly the same custom may be witnessed in Greece -to-day[1406]. In fact not only may the person of the dead be seen -dressed as for a wedding, but in the folk-songs we hear of the tomb -itself being adorned like the home to which the bride should have been -led. - - ‘Came her lover to her bedside, stooped him down, and met her kiss; - Low and faint to his ear only, whispered she, her message this: - “When I pass away, my lover, deck thou out my tomb for me, - As thou would’st have decked the home where wedded I should dwell with thee[1407].”’ - -Yet another point of coincidence between the ceremonial of marriage -and of funeral is the wearing of a crown. In ancient times ‘chaplets,’ -says Becker[1408], ‘were certainly worn both by bride and bridegroom,’ -and in modern usage they are as essential to the marriage ceremony as -the wedding-rings. At a certain point in the service, it is the duty -of the best man, assisted by the chief bridesmaid, to keep exchanging -the rings from the hands of the bride and bridegroom, and in like -manner to exchange the crowns which they wear from the head of one to -the head of the other; and as the rings are always worn afterwards, -so the two crowns are carefully preserved and hung up together in the -new home. Equally well-established is the use of garlands in ancient -funerals[1409], and, if not quite universal at the present day[1410], -they are at any rate commonly employed in the funerals of women and -children. In Macedonia it is actually the bridal crown which is worn -for burial by anyone who was betrothed or newly married[1411]. - -Worthy of notice too is the not uncommon spectacle of an apple, -quince[1412], or pomegranate laid among the flowers with which the bier -is adorned; for all these three fruits have their special significance -in relation to marriage. The classical custom of throwing an apple into -a girl’s lap as a sign of love is a method of wooing still known to the -rustic swain. It is not indeed regarded as a highly respectable method, -but perhaps neither in old times was it so; for then, as now, the more -well-conducted youths seem to have had their wooing, if such it may be -called, carried on through the agency of an elderly lady (in ancient -Greek προμνήστρια, in modern προξενήτρια) whose negotiations were -chiefly addressed to the parents on either side, and whose conversation -smacked more of dowry than of love. The quince and the pomegranate -however are employed without any offence to propriety. The former is in -some districts the food of which the newly-married pair are required to -partake together at their first entry into their new home; and it is -hoped that the sweetness of the fruit will so temper their lips that -nothing but sweet words will ever be addressed by the one to the other. -To the open-minded observer it might appear that acidity rather than -sweetness was the chief characteristic of the quince, and that, if the -qualities of the fruit are found to affect the tones of those who eat -it, they would be better advised, as is the custom in some villages, -to substitute for the quince a well-sugared cake or a dish of honey. -But the pomegranate is far more commonly used than the quince, and in -a variety of ways. Sometimes the bride and bridegroom eat together of -it; elsewhere the bridegroom proffers it to the bride as his first gift -on her entrance to their home, and she alone eats of it; or again she -may be required to hurl it down and scatter its seeds over the floor. -The second of these methods of using the pomegranate at marriage is, it -will be remembered, of venerable antiquity; it was a seed of this fruit -which Hades gave to Persephone to eat, that when she visited again the -upper world she might not remain there all her days with reverend, -dark-robed Demeter, but return to her home in the nether world[1413]; -and similarly at the Argive Heraeum, the bride of Zeus was represented -by Polyclitus holding in one of her hands the fruit of the pomegranate, -concerning which, says Pausanias, there is a mystic story not to be -divulged[1414]. Here again then is found the same close association of -death and marriage. The three fruits, apple, quince, and pomegranate, -each of which possesses a special use and purport in the preliminaries -or the actual ceremony of marriage, are also the fruits most commonly -laid upon the bier, in token, as it must appear, that death is but a -marriage into the unseen world. In the light of such customs we can -read with fuller understanding that simple and yet mystic dirge, ‘The -Wedding in Hades’: - - ‘My mother maketh glad to-day, she maketh my son’s wedding, - She goeth for water to the springs, for snow unto the mountains, - To fruit-wives in their garden-plots for apples and for quinces...[1415].’ - -Thus in point after point the rites of marriage and the rites of death -among Greeks both past and present have been found to coincide; and -the number of these points of coincidence is too large to admit of -their being referred to accident; design is evident. We are bound to -suppose either that marriage-ceremonies were deliberately transferred -to the funeral-rite, or that funeral-ceremonies were deliberately -transferred to the marriage-rite. Which supposition shall we prefer? -There can be no real question. It is impossible to conceive of a people -so cynical or so distempered as to darken the wedding-day with grim -reminders of death. But to transfer some of the usages of marriage to -the funeral-scene was to infuse one ray of hope where all else was -sorrow and darkness, to teach that, though the dead and the mourners -might grieve for their parting, yet by that parting from the old home -the dead was to enter upon a new life, a life of wedded happiness, in -the unseen world. For indeed if there were no such intention as this, -what was the meaning of the λουτροφόρος set up over the grave of the -unmarried, what the purpose of adorning the dead with wedding-garment -and wedding-crown? These two acts at least are no accidents; they -reveal a studied purpose of assimilating the usages of death to the -usages of marriage; and if that purpose underlay two of the customs -enumerated, there is good warrant for the belief that in all the -coincidences between marriage-rites and funeral-rites the same thought -was operating--that very thought which has been found to be the common -property of the Greek race, from one of the masters of ancient tragedy -down to the humblest peasant of our day. Custom past and present, -ancient literature, modern folk-song, all agree in their presentment of -death as a marriage into the house of Hades. - -On this popular and withal recondite conception of death were founded, -I believe, the highest religious aspirations of the ancient Greeks. -Such as had served their gods piously and purely in this life might -hope to win a closer union, as of wedlock, with those gods in the life -hereafter. To them there could be neither blasphemy nor presumption -in their hope; for to pious believers the fabled experience of their -own ancestors in this life was a warrant for aspiring themselves to -the same bliss at least hereafter; what had been, might be again. -Nay, more; not only was the belief that the highest bliss of the -hereafter consisted in the marriage of men with their gods free -from all reproach of impiety, but it was the logical development of -two religious sentiments which we have already reviewed--the desire -for close communion between gods and men, and the belief that men -after death and dissolution would still enjoy, like their gods, -corporeal existence. A previous chapter has been devoted to a detailed -examination of the means whereby men in their daily life sought to -maintain communication with the powers above them--oracles from which -all might enquire and win inspired response; interpretation of the -flight and cries of birds that were the messengers of heaven; reading -of the signs written by the finger of some god on the flesh of the -victim presented to him; divination from sight and sound and dream; -sacrifice whereby some message of prayer might be sent with speed and -safety to the god who had power to fulfil it. And in general it will, -I think, be admitted that the main tendency of Greek religious thought -was to draw gods and men nearer together, alike by an anthropomorphic -conception of the gods and by an apotheosis of human beauty; that it -was to subserve this end that Art became the handmaid of Religion, and -strove to express the divine in terms of the human, to discover in man -the potentialities of godhead. All religious hope and ambition and -effort turned upon communion with the gods. How then in the next world -should hope be fulfilled, ambition satisfied, effort rewarded? What -should be the glorious consummation? Marriage was the closest communion -between mortals in this world; marriage, so sang the poets, bound -gods together in closest communion. Men’s aspirations for communion -with their gods could find no final satisfaction save in marriage. To -the few, we may suppose--men of refined and reflective mind, capable -of imagining spiritual joys--this marriage of men and gods was but a -mystic, figurative expression for the union of man’s soul with the soul -of God, a thought as chastened and innocent of all sensuous connotation -as the thought of many a woman who in a later era, withdrawn from the -world, has comforted her loneliness with the hope of being the bride -of Christ. But the many, I suspect, flinched not before a bold and -literal interpretation of the thought, and, believing that, when death -and physical dissolution were past, body as well as soul survived in -another world, dared dream that having passed the gates of mortality -into the demesne of the immortals they should be wedded, body and soul, -in true wedlock with those deities who by veiled communion with them -in this world had prepared them for sight and touch and full fruition -hereafter. - -But, it will be asked, where in all Greek literature can we find a -statement, where even a hint, of this strange doctrine? Nowhere a -statement; often a hint; for these were things not to be divulged to -the profane. To those alone who were initiated into the Mysteries was -the doctrine revealed, and even to them, it may be, in parables only -whose inner meaning each must probe for himself. - -There have of course been those who have made light of the mysteries -of the old Greek religion, and have seen in them nothing but the -impositions of a close hierarchy playing upon the ignorance and -credulity and fear of the common-folk. But when we consider the -veneration in which the more famous mysteries were held for many -centuries, when we remember that Eleusis was respected and left -inviolate not only by the Lacedaemonians and other Greek peoples when -they invaded Attic territory, but even by the Persians who had dared -to devastate the Acropolis, and in later times by the yet ruder Celts, -then it is easier to believe that we are dealing with a great religious -institution based upon solid principles and vital doctrines which -deserved a wide-spread and long-continued reverence from mankind, than -that it was all the elaborate and empty hoax of a crafty priesthood. - -Nor again does the view which makes Demeter simply a corn-goddess -and the Eleusinian mysteries a portentous harvest-thanksgiving--and -that apparently somewhat premature--require any long or serious -consideration. Corn indeed was one of the blessings given by Demeter -to this upper world of living men; perhaps in the very earliest ages -of her worship this was the sum total of the boons which men sought of -her; doubtless even in her fully-developed mysteries a part of men’s -thanks were still for the garnered harvest of the last year and for -the promise which the green fields gave of her bounty once more to be -renewed; for even in the nineteenth century of the Christian era her -statue amid the ruins of Eleusis was still associated by the peasants -with agriculture, and the removal of it, they apprehended, would cause -a failure of the crops[1416]. But in old time this was not all. To -speak of Demeter as a mere personification of cereals is to advocate -a partial truth little better than the cynical falsehood which makes -her only the stalking-horse of designing priests. For what said men -of light and learning among the ancients[1417], men who knew the whole -truth and the whole Spirit of her worship? ‘Thrice happy they of men -that have looked upon these rites ere they go to Hades’ house; for they -alone there have true life, the rest have nought there but ill[1418].’ -So Sophocles, in language clearly recalling that of the so-called -Homeric hymn[1419] to Demeter; and in harmony with him Pindar: ‘Happy -he that hath seen those rites ere he go beneath the earth; he knoweth -life’s consummation, he knoweth its god-given source[1420].’ And -surely such consummation of life should be in that paradise, where -‘mid meadows red with roses lieth the space before the city’s gates, -all hazy with frankincense and laden with golden fruits,’ where ‘the -glorious sun sheds his light while night is here[1421]’; for to this -belief even Aristophanes subscribes, neither daring nor wishing to -make mock of the blessed ones who in the other world have part in the -god-beloved festival, and wend their way with song and dance through -the holy circle of the goddess, a lawn bright with flowers, meadows -where roses richly blossom--on whom alone in their night-long worship -the sun yet shines and a gracious light, for that they have learnt the -mysteries and dealt righteously with all men[1422]. - -Here then are the three great masters of lyric poetry, of tragedy, -and of comedy in substantial agreement; and the hopes which they hold -out are not the mere exuberance of poetic fancy, for sober prose -affirms the same beliefs. What says Isocrates? ‘Demeter ... being -graciously minded towards our forefathers because of their services -to her, services of which none but the initiated may hear, gave us -the greatest of all gifts, first, those fruits of the earth which -saved us from living the life of beasts, and secondly, that rite which -makes happier the hopes of those that participate therein concerning -both the end of life and their whole existence; and our city proved -herself not only god-beloved but also loving toward mankind, in that, -having become mistress of such blessings, she grudged them not to -the rest of the world, but gave to all men a share in that she had -received[1423].’ Of this passage Lobeck[1424] was disposed to make -light, and that for the reason that Isocrates in another passage[1425], -with less orthodoxy perhaps and more charity, in speaking of the -pious and upright in general, employs part of the same phrase which -in the passage before us he applies to the initiated only. All good -men, he says, have happier hopes ‘concerning their whole existence’; -virtue, that is, may expect a reward, vice a punishment, either here -or hereafter. Are these fair grounds on which to condemn his reference -to the mysteries as a meaningless common-place? If any comment is to -be made upon this repetition of a well-known phrase, would it not be -fairer to note that in reference to the mysteries he speaks of men’s -happier hopes not only generally--‘concerning their whole existence’ -(περὶ τοῦ σύμπαντος αἰῶνος) but also specifically--‘concerning the end -of life’ (περὶ τῆς τοῦ βίου τελευτῆς), and thus echoes the words of -Pindar above quoted, ‘he knoweth the consummation of life’ (οἶδεν μὲν -βιότου τελευτάν)? Nor is there any dearth of other authorities to prove -that it was after death that the hopes of the initiated should ‘be -emptied in delight.’ Let us hear Aristides. ‘Nay, but the benefit of -the (Eleusinian) festival is not merely the cheerfulness of the moment -and the freedom and respite from all previous troubles, but also the -possession of happier hopes concerning the end, hopes that our life -hereafter will be the better, and that we shall not lie in darkness and -in filth--the fate that is believed to await the uninitiated[1426].’ -Such seem to have been the general terms in which the benefits of the -mysteries might be recommended to the profane. The same ideas, almost -the same phrases, occur again and again. Witness the well-known story -of Diogenes the Cynic, who, when urged by a young man to get himself -initiated, answered, ‘It is strange, my young friend, if you fancy -that by virtue of this rite the publicans will share with the gods -the good things of Hades’ house, while Agesilaus and Epaminondas lie -in filth[1427].’ Or again let us read the advice of Crinagoras to his -friend: ‘Set thy foot on Cecropian soil, that thou may’st behold those -nights of Demeter’s great mysteries, which shall free thee from care -among the living, and, when thou goest where most are gone, shall make -thy heart lighter[1428].’ And with equal seriousness Cicero, who in -his ideal state would forbid all nocturnal rites as tending towards -excesses, would except the Eleusinian mysteries, not only because of -their humanising and cheering influence upon men’s life in this world -but also because they furnish better hopes in death[1429]. - -Such are the most important passages bearing upon the religious as -opposed to the temporal and agricultural aspects of Demeter’s worship, -such the general terms in which the blessings flowing therefrom were -overtly described by men who knew the details of the covert doctrine. -The information contained in them amounts to this: the initiated -received in the mysteries a hope, a pledge, perhaps a foretaste, of the -future bliss reserved for them only; the profane should lie in filth -and outer darkness; the blessed should dwell in pleasant meadows, and -the sun should shine bright upon them; they should be god-beloved, and -should share with the gods the good things of the next world. - -Now obviously these vague and general promises are conceived in the -tone and the spirit of that popular religion which had sprung from -the very heart of the Hellenic folk. The pleasant meadows where the -initiated should dwell are none other than that place which appears -once as the asphodel mead, anon as the islands of the blessed or as -part of the under-world, and is now named Paradise. The light which -illumines even the night-time of the blessed is the necessary contrast -to the murky gloom of a nether abode, conceived almost in the spirit of -Homer, where the profane must lie as in a slough. And finally the close -communion of the blessed with gods who love them is the consummation of -those hopes which the whole Hellenic people entertained, and of those -efforts which the whole Hellenic people put forth, to attain to close -intercourse in this life with the gods whom they worshipped. Clearly -then the general promises, whose inner mysteries were revealed only to -the initiated, were based upon the old ideals, the innate beliefs, the -traditional hopes, in a word, the natural and spontaneous religion of -the Hellenic race. - -And, as at Eleusis, so probably in other mysteries. In a famous -passage Theo Smyrnaeus[1430] compares the successive steps to be taken -in the study of philosophy with the several stages of initiation in -mysteries, and Lobeck[1431] in his examination of the passage has -shown that the reference is not to the mysteries of Eleusis, or at any -rate not to them only. It is probable enough that Theo was speaking of -mysteries in general, both public and private, in most of which there -were, doubtless, several grades of initiation, and he may even have -selected the details of his illustration (for it is an analogy only, -not an argument, in which he is engaged) from different rites. Yet for -his fifth and final stage of initiation, beyond even ‘open vision’ -(ἐποπτεία) and ‘exposition’ (δᾳδουχία or ἰεροφαντία), he names that -bliss which is the outcome of the earlier stages, the bliss of being -god-beloved and sharing the life of gods (ἡ κατὰ τὸ θεοφιλὲς καὶ θεοῖς -συνδιαιτὸν εὐδαιμονία). - -The recurrence of the word θεοφιλής in the above passages, whether in -reference to the Eleusinian or to other mysteries, cannot but excite -attention; and we shall not I think go far astray if we take the last -phrase of Theo Smyrnaeus, ‘the bliss of being god-beloved and sharing -the life of gods,’ as an epitome of the somewhat vague and general -promises held out to the profane as an inducement to initiation. This -was the fulfilment of those ‘happier hopes’--to use another recurrent -phrase--of which the initiated might only speak in guarded fashion. -The exact interpretation of this phrase, as we shall have reason -to believe when we consider the separate rites in detail, was the -great mystic secret. But of that more anon; for the present let us -suppose that the general assurances openly given concerning both the -Eleusinian and other mysteries are fairly summed up in the promise ‘of -being god-beloved and of sharing the life of gods.’ Such a promise -appealed to those innate hopes of the whole Greek race which manifested -themselves in their constant striving after close intercourse and -communion with their gods; in other words, the happier hopes concerning -the hereafter, which the mysteries sought to appropriate and to reserve -to the initiated alone, had for their basis the natural religion of the -Hellenic folk. - -To admit this is necessarily to admit the validity of Lobeck’s -refutation of those critics who have sought to father on the -mysteries, usually on those of Eleusis, doctrines and ideas foreign -to, or even incompatible with, popular Greek religion--pantheism, the -emanation of the human soul from the soul of God, the transmigration -of souls, the Platonic theory of ideas, the unity of God omnipotent -and omniscient[1432], and such-like religious products of different -ages and different climes. For if we were to accept the view that the -teaching of the mysteries was a thing apart from the ordinary trend and -tenor of the popular religion, then we should be compelled to regard -those general promises of future bliss (which were in truth, as we have -just seen, based upon popular religion) as a fraudulent bait designed -to entice men away from their old beliefs and to ensnare them in dogma -and priestcraft; and if any would impute fraud, there awaits them the -task of convicting Pindar, Sophocles, Aristophanes, Isocrates, and -others who wrote of that which they knew, of conspiracy to deceive. - -But while the promises held forth by the Eleusinian and other -mysteries, and therefore also the doctrines which elucidated those -vague promises, were a product of the popular religion, those doctrines -themselves were not a matter of popular knowledge. The very fact of -initiation, the death-penalty inflicted upon the profane who by any -means penetrated to the scene of the mysteries, the wild indignation -excited in Athens by a charge of mocking the mystic rites, the -scrupulous privacy observed in investigating that charge before a court -composed of the initiated only--all these are proofs that Eleusis was -the school of secret beliefs and hopes held in deep veneration by those -to whom the knowledge of them was vouchsafed. Secret doctrines existed; -that which had sprung from the beliefs of the many had become the -property of the few. How can this be explained? - -The explanation is not difficult. The worship of Demeter and possibly -many other rites which were afterwards called ‘mysteries’ were the most -holy part of the religion of the Pelasgians; and when the Achaeans, a -people of strange tongue and strange religion, came among them, the -Pelasgians would not admit them to a knowledge of their rites but -thenceforth performed those rites in secrecy. This is proved by two -facts. First, the rites which at Eleusis, in Samothrace, and among the -Cicones in Thrace, the country of Orpheus, were imparted as mysteries -to the initiated only, were in Crete open to all and there was no -obligation to secrecy concerning them[1433]. Secondly, at Eleusis at -any rate the purity required of candidates for initiation was not -only physical and spiritual, as secured by ablution and abstinence, -but also linguistic; it was necessary καθαρεύειν τῇ φωνῇ[1434], to -speak the Greek language purely. These two facts taken together solve -the difficulty. Before the coming of the Achaeans the whole Pelasgian -population whether of the Greek mainland or of such an island as Crete -celebrated the rites of Demeter openly. In Crete, where no Achaeans -penetrated, the old custom naturally continued unchanged. On the -mainland the influx of a people of strange tongue and strange religion -necessitated secrecy in the native rites, lest the presence of men -who knew not Demeter should profane her worship; the right of entry -therefore at her festivals was decided by the simplest test of Achaean -or Pelasgian nationality, the test of speech; and in later times, when -the Achaeans had acquired the Pelasgian speech[1435], the customs -thus established were not abolished; the rites of Demeter remained -‘mysteries’ to be conducted in secret, and the Shibboleth was still -exacted. - -Since then we may not seek in the teachings of the mysteries anything -alien from the spirit of the popular religion, the scope of our enquiry -is more limited and its course more clear. The secret to be discovered -is something which had been evolved from the popular religion, some -intensification and higher development of those hopes and beliefs, -yearnings and strivings, which have continuously marked the religious -life of the Greek folk. Now the mass of the Greek people have always -hoped and believed, as their care for the dead has constantly shown, -that beyond death and dissolution lay a life in which body and soul -should be re-united and restored to their old activity; the mysteries -might well confirm the initiated in that expectation and picture to -them the happy habitations where they should dwell. Again the mass of -the Greek people have always yearned and striven by manifold means in -this life for close communion with their gods; the mysteries might -well be a sacrament which afforded to the initiated both a means and -a pledge of enjoying in the next world, to which body as well as soul -should pass, the closest of all communion with their gods, the union of -wedlock. - -Let it then be supposed that the two main ideas of the mysteries, -whether expounded in speech or represented in ritual, were -these--bodily survival after death, and marriage of men with gods; -what would have been the natural attitude of Christians towards these -doctrines? For it is in the light of the charges brought by early -Christian writers against the mysteries that such a supposition must -first be examined. The doctrine of the immortality of the body as well -as of the soul was evidently little exposed to Christian attacks; and -it may have been because the Christian doctrine of the resurrection -had much in common with the old Greek doctrine, that St Paul found -among his audience on the Areopagus some who did not mock, but said ‘We -will hear thee again of this matter.’ But with the further doctrine -of marriage between men and gods Christianity could have no sympathy, -but would inevitably regard it as offensive both in theology and in -morality, as implying the existence of a plurality of gods, and as -savouring of that sensuality, which above all other sin the apostle to -the Gentiles set himself to combat. - -And it is in fact upon these two points that the mass of the -accusations brought by early Christian writers against Greek paganism -hinge and hang. These were the points at which Greek religion seemed -to its assailants most readily vulnerable, and against which they -sought to use as weapons the very language of paganism itself. Just as -Clement of Alexandria[1436] seeks to prove out of the mouth of Homer, -who speaks of the gods in general as δαίμονες[1437], that the Greek -gods are confessedly mere _demons_ (for the word δαίμων had seemingly -deteriorated in meaning), that is to say, abominable and unclean -spirits, enemies of the one true God, so too the words ἄρρητος and -ἀπόρρητος, used by the pagans of their ‘unspeakable’ mysteries, were -misinterpreted by the Christians with one consent and became a handle -for convicting the old religion of ‘unnameable’ impurities. - -With the question of polytheism however we are not further concerned; -whether the Hellenic gods were true gods, as their worshippers held, or -devils, as Clement thought, or non-existent, as many will think to-day, -matters not; all that we need to know in this respect is known, namely, -that the mysteries, like the popular religion, acknowledged a plurality -of gods; for in the Eleusinian drama alone several gods played a part. -It is rather the frequent and violent charges of impurity which call -for investigation. - -A few examples will suffice for the present. A comprehensive -denunciation is that of Eusebius, who charges the pagans with -celebrating, ‘in chant and hymn and story and in the unnameable rites -of the mysteries, adulteries and yet baser lusts, and incestuous unions -of mother with son, brother with sister[1438].’ And again he says, ‘In -every city rites and mysteries of gods are taught, in harmony with -the mythical stories of old time, so that even now in these rites, -as well as in hymns and odes to the gods, men can hear of marriages -of the gods, and of their procreation of children, and of dirges for -death, and of drunken excesses, and of wanderings, and of passionate -love or anger[1439].’ Equally outspoken is Clement of Alexandria -in his ‘Exhortation to the heathen.’ Some specific statements in -that work concerning the mysteries of several gods, though they -support the general charges of impurity, may be postponed for later -examination. It will be enough here to adduce the phrases in which, -after denouncing those who, whether in the mysteries of the temples -or the paintings with which their own houses were adorned, loved to -look upon the lusts of gods (he risks even the word πασχητιασμοί), and -‘regarded incontinence as piety,’ Clement reaches the climax of his -invective:--‘Such are your models of voluptuousness, such your creeds -of lust, such the doctrines of gods who commit fornication with you; -for, as the Athenian orator says, what a man wishes, that he also -believes[1440].’ This brutal directness of Clement is however hardly -more effective than the elegant innuendo of Synesius in dealing with -the same subject. Commenting on the secrecy of the nocturnal rites, he -describes them as celebrated at ‘times and places competent to conceal -ἀρρητουργίαν ἔνθεον[1441]’--a phrase which I despair of rendering, for -the ‘unspeakable acts’ to which ‘divine frenzy’ led, are those which -are either too holy or too infamous to be named. - -These few typical passages amply demonstrate that alike by insinuation -and by open accusation the Christian writers conspired to brand the -mysteries with the infamy of deeds unnameable. What is the explanation -of this organised campaign of calumny? - -Some have supposed that the Christian writers in general confused -the public and the private mysteries, and that, aware of the license -which characterized the latter, they included all in one condemnation. -But this explanation appears at any rate inadequate. We have seen -how Cicero distinguished sharply between the Eleusinian mysteries, -in which he had participated and for which he felt reverence, and -other nocturnal rites which gave shelter to all manner of excess. It -is difficult therefore to suppose that in later times the Christian -writers should all have fallen unwittingly into the error of confusing -all mysteries together; and no less difficult to imagine that, if -they recognised how far removed were the most respected of the public -mysteries from the baser private orgies, they should have deliberately -exposed themselves to the charge of ignorance of the subject concerning -which they presumed to preach. Clement of Alexandria was too shrewd a -disputant so to stultify himself. - -Nor again is it a sufficient explanation to say that the strain and -excitement of such mysteries as those of Eleusis were responsible -for a certain amount of subsequent indiscretion. Let it be granted -that many of those who had witnessed the solemn rites were guilty -afterwards of drunkenness and licentiousness[1442]; yet these would -be no grounds for convicting the mysteries themselves of impurity; -to so perverted a charge the heathen might well have answered that -rioting and drunkenness had not been unknown at the Christians’ most -solemn service; and indeed the same argument could up to this day -be used against the Greek celebration of Easter. No; the charges of -impurity were brought against the mysteries themselves, not against the -incidental misdoings of some who had witnessed them. It must have been -either the doctrines taught or the dramatic representations by means -of which they were taught that furnished the Christian writers with a -handle for accusation. - -Now if, as I have supposed, the doctrine of the marriage of men with -their gods was the cardinal doctrine of the mysteries (for the other -doctrine of bodily survival is merely preliminary and subordinate to -this), and if some dramatic representation was given as a means of -instilling into men’s minds the hope of attaining to that summit of -bliss, it is not difficult to see what an opening the mysteries gave -to their opponents for the charges which were actually brought. The -ultimate bliss promised to the initiated was in general terms said to -consist in ‘being god-beloved and dwelling with the gods,’ and this -phrase, we are supposing, signified to the initiated themselves an -assurance that their gods would admit them even to wedlock with them -in the future life. It required then no great ingenuity in the way of -misrepresentation for Clement, if he had but an inkling of the secret -doctrine, to denounce the heathen and their beliefs in that opprobrious -phrase, ‘Such are the doctrines of gods that commit fornication with -you.’ This champion of Christianity knew no chivalry, gave no quarter, -disdained no weapon, held no method of attack too base or insidious, -if only he could wound and crush his heathen foes. It was his part to -pervert, to degrade, to blaspheme their whole religion; and that which -they held most sacred was marked out for his most virulent scorn. -Naturally to those who drew near with pure and reverent minds the -mysteries wore a very different aspect. That which Clement misnamed -lust, they felt to be love; where he saw only degradation, they -recognised a wonderful condescension of their gods. For in the words of -that religion which Clement preached ‘to the pure all things are pure’; -and it was purification which the initiated sought by abstinence and -ablution during the first part of the Eleusinian festival before they -were admitted to their holy of holies. - -Indeed if we would understand at all the spirit in which the ancient -Greeks approached the celebration of the mysteries, we should do well -to turn our attention for a little to the modern Greek celebration -of Holy Week and Easter; for this is, so to speak, the Christian -counterpart of the old mysteries, and seems to owe much to them. It -so happens that Easter falls in the same period of the year as did -the great Eleusinian festival--the period when the re-awakening of -the earth from its winter sleep suggests to man his own re-awakening -from the sleep of death; and it is probable that the Church turned -this coincidence in time to good account by making her own festival a -substitute for the festival of Demeter or other kindred rites, and even -by modelling her own services after the pagan pattern; for it would -seem that the Church, when once her early struggles had secured her -a firm position, exchanged hostility for conciliation, and sought to -absorb rather than to oust paganism. Her complaisance is clearly seen -in the ceremonies of Good Friday and Easter; for, with all her severe -repression of the use of idols (whose place however is well supplied -by the pictures which are called icons), she has permitted the use of -a sculptured figure at this one festival, and even down to this day -Christ is represented in some localities[1443] in effigy; and it can -hardly be doubted that the purpose of this concession was to make the -Christian festival as dramatic and attractive as the pagan mysteries -celebrated at the same season. Again the absorption of pagan ideas is -well illustrated by the belief still prevalent among the peasants that -the Easter festival, like the cult of Demeter, has an important bearing -upon the growth of the crops. A story in point was told to me by one -who had travelled in Greece[1444]. Happening to be in some village of -Eubœa during Holy Week, he had been struck by the emotion which the -Good Friday services evoked; and observing on the next day the same -general air of gloom and despondency, he questioned an old woman about -it; whereupon she replied, ‘Of course I am anxious; for if Christ does -not rise to-morrow, we shall have no corn this year.’ - -In other details too there is a close correspondence between the pagan -and the Christian festivals. As a period of abstinence was required -of the _mystae_, so during Lent and still more strictly during Holy -Week the Greek peasants keep a fast which certainly predisposes them -to hysterical emotion during the services; and _en revanche_, just as -the initiated are said to have indulged themselves too freely when the -mysteries were over, so the modern peasants, when the announcement of -the Resurrection has been made, disperse in haste to feast upon their -Easter lamb, and while it is still a-cooking experience the inevitable -effects of plentiful wine on an empty stomach. Again, just as the rites -of Eleusis were nocturnal, so the chief services of Holy Week are those -of the Friday night and the Saturday night; and it may be that the -torch-light processions which close the services on those two nights -are related to the δᾳδουχία of Eleusis. But these are minor details; -it is in the actual services of Good Friday and Easter that the most -striking resemblance to the Eleusinian mysteries is found, and the -spirit in which the worshippers approach may still be the same now as -then. Let me briefly describe the festival as I saw it in the island -of Santorini, or, to give it the old name which has revived in modern -times, Thera. - -The Lenten fast was drawing to a close when I arrived. For the first -week it is strictly observed, meat, fish, eggs, milk, cheese, and -even olive-oil being prohibited, so that the ordinary diet is reduced -to bread and water, to which is sometimes added a nauseous soup made -from dried cuttle-fish or octopus; for these along with shellfish -are not reckoned to be animal food, as being bloodless. During the -next four weeks some relaxation is allowed; but no one with any -pretensions to piety would even then partake of fish, meat, or eggs; -the last-mentioned are stored up until Easter and then, being dyed -red, are either eaten or--more wisely--offered to visitors. Then comes -‘the Great Week’ (ἡ μεγάλη ἑβδομάδα), and with it the same strict -regulations come into force as during the first week of Lent. It was -not hard to perceive that for most of the villagers the fast had been -a real and painful abstinence. Work had almost ceased; for there was -little energy left. Leisure was not enjoyed; for there was little -spirit even for chatting. Everywhere white, sharp-featured faces told -of real hunger; and the silence was most often broken by an outburst -of irritability. In a few days time I could understand it; for I too -perforce fasted; and I must own that a daily diet of dry bread for -_déjeuner_ and of dry bread and octopus soup for dinner soon changed my -outlook upon life. Little wonder then if these folk after six weeks of -such treatment were nervous and excitable. - -Such was the condition of body and mind in which they attended the -long service of Good Friday night. Service I have said, but drama -were a more fitting word, a funeral-drama. At the top of the nave, -just below the chancel-step, stood a bier and upon it lay the figure -of the Christ, all too death-like in the dim light. The congregation -gaze upon him, reverently hushed, while the priests’ voices rise in -prayer and chant as it were in lamentation for the dead God lying -there in state. Hour after hour passes. The women have kissed the -dead form, and are gone. The moment has come for carrying the Christ -out to burial. The procession moves forward--in front, the priests -with candles and torches and, guarded by them, the open bier borne -shoulder-high--behind, a reverent, bare-headed crowd. The night is -dark and gusty. It rains, and the rugged, tortuous alleys of the town -are slippery. It is late, but none are sleeping. Unheeding of wind -and rain, the women kneel at open door or window, praying, swinging -censers, sprinkling perfume on the passing bier. Slowly, haltingly, led -by the dirge of priests, now in darkness, now lighted by the torches’ -flare and intermittent beams from cottage doorways, groping at corners, -stumbling in ill-paved by-ways, the mourners follow their God to his -grave. The circuit of the town is done. All have taken their last look -upon the dead. The sepulchre is reached--a vault beneath the church -from which the funeral started. The priests alone enter with the bier. -There is a pause. The crowd waits. The silence is deep as the darkness, -only broken here and there by a deep-drawn sigh. Is it the last depth -of anguish, or is it well-nigh relief that the long strain is over? -The priests return. In silence the crowd have waited, in silence they -disperse. It is finished. - -But there is a sequel on the morrow. Soon after dark on Easter-eve -the same weary yet excited faces may be seen gathered in the church. -But there is a change too; there is a feeling abroad of anxiety, of -expectancy. Hours must yet pass ere midnight, and not till then is -there hope of the announcement, ‘Christ is risen!’ The suspense seems -long. To-night there is restlessness rather than silence. Some go to -and fro between the church and their homes; others join discordantly -in the chants and misplace the responses; anything to cheat the long -hours of waiting. Midnight draws near; from hand to hand are passed -the tapers and candles which shall light the joyful procession, if -only the longed-for announcement be made. What is happening there now -behind those curtains which veil the chancel from the expectant throng? -Midnight strikes. The curtains are drawn back. Yes, there is the -bier, borne but yesternight to the grave. It is empty. That is only -the shroud upon it. The words of the priest ring out true, ‘Christ is -risen!’ And there behind the chancel, see, a second veil is drawn back. -There in the sanctuary, on the altar-steps, bright with a blaze of -light stands erect the figure of the Christ who, so short and yet so -long a while ago, was borne lifeless to the tomb. A miracle, a miracle! -Quickly from the priest’s lighted candle the flame is passed. In a -moment the dim building is illumined by a lighted taper in every hand. -A procession forms, a joyful procession now. Everywhere are light and -glad voices and the embraces of friends, crying aloud the news ‘Christ -is risen’ and answering ‘He is risen indeed.’ In every home the lamb is -prepared with haste, the wine flows freely; in the streets is the flash -of torches, the din of fire-arms, and all the exuberance of simple -joy. The fast is over; the dead has been restored to life before men’s -eyes; well may they rejoice even to ecstasy. For have they not felt the -ecstasy of sorrow? This was no tableau on which they looked, no drama -in which they played a part. It was all true, all real. The figure on -the bier was indeed the dead Christ; the figure on the altar-steps was -indeed the risen Christ. In these simple folk religion has transcended -reason; they have reached the heights of spiritual exaltation; they -have seen and felt as minds more calm and rational can never see nor -feel. - -And the ancient Greeks, had not they too the gift of ecstasy, the -faculty to soar above facts on the wings of imagination? When the drama -of Demeter and Kore was played before the eyes of the initiated at -Eleusis, were not they too uplifted in mind until amid the magic of -night they were no longer spectators of a drama but themselves had a -share in Demeter’s sorrow and wandering and joy? For the pagan story -is not unlike the Christian story in its power to move both tears and -gladness. As now men mourn beside the bier of Christ, so in old time -may men have shared Demeter’s mourning for her child who though divine -had suffered the lot of men and passed away to the House of Hades. As -now men rejoice when they behold the risen Christ, so in old time may -men have shared Demeter’s joy when her child returned from beneath the -earth, proving that there is life beyond the grave. But the old story -taught more than this. Not only did Kore live in the lower world, but -her passing thither was not death but wedding. Therefore just as now -the resurrection of Christ, who though divine is the representative of -mankind, is held to be an earnest of man’s resurrection, so the wedded -life of Kore in the nether world may have been to the initiated an -assurance of the same bliss to be vouchsafed to them hereafter. - -What was there then in this drama of Demeter and Kore at which the -Christian writers could take offence or cavil? We do not of course -know in what detail the story was represented; but the pivot on which -the whole plot turned was necessarily the rape of Kore. Now it appears -that in the play the part of Aïdoneus was taken by an hierophant and -the part of Kore by a priestess; and it was the alleged indecency -resulting therefrom which the fathers of the Church most severely -censured. Asterius, after defending the Christians from the charge of -worshipping saints as if they had been not human but divine, seeks to -turn the tables on his pagan opponents by accusing them of deifying -Demeter and Kore, whom he evidently regards as having once been human -figures in mythology. Then he continues, ‘Is not Eleusis the scene -of the descent into darkness, and of the solemn acts of intercourse -between the hierophant and the priestess, alone together? Are not the -torches extinguished, and does not the large, the numberless assembly -of common people believe that their salvation lies in that which is -being done by the two in the darkness[1445]?’ Again it was objected -against the Valentinians by Tertullian that they copied ‘the whoredoms -of Eleusis[1446],’ and from another authority we learn that part of the -ceremonies of these heretics consisted in ‘preparing a nuptial chamber’ -and celebrating ‘a spiritual marriage[1447].’ These two statements, -read in conjunction, form a strong corroboration of the information -given by Asterius; and we are bound to conclude that the scene of the -rape of Kore was represented at Eleusis by the descent of the priest -and priestess who played the chief parts into a dark nuptial chamber. - -Now it is easy enough to suppose, as Sainte-Croix suggests[1448], -that public morals were safeguarded by assigning the chief _rôles_ -in the drama to persons of advanced age, or, as one ancient author -states[1449], by temporarily and partially paralysing the hierophant -with a small dose of hemlock. Whether each of the initiated was at any -time conducted through the same ritual is uncertain. In the formulary -of the Eleusinian rites, as recorded by Clement of Alexandria--‘I -fasted; I drank the sacred potion (κυκεῶνα); I took out of the chest; -having wrought (ἐργασάμενος) I put back into the basket and from the -basket into the chest[1450]’--the expression ‘having wrought’ has been -taken to be an euphemism denoting the same mystic union as between -hierophant and priestess[1451]. If this view is correct, it would imply -no doubt that full initiation required the candidate to go through the -whole ritual in person; in this case it must be presumed that some -precaution such as the dose of hemlock was taken in the interests of -morality. - -But the mere fact that a scene of rape should form any part of a -religious rite, was to the Christians a stumbling-block. This was their -insurmountable objection to the mysteries, and they were only too prone -to exaggerate a ceremony, which with reverent and delicate treatment -need have been in no way morally deleterious, into a sensual and -noxious orgy. The story, how Demeter’s beautiful and innocent daughter -was suddenly carried off from the meadow where she was gathering -flowers into the depths of the dark under-world, spoke to them only -of the violence and lust of her ravisher Aïdoneus. But the legend -might bear another complexion. Kore, as representative of mankind or -at least of the initiated among mankind, suffers what seems the most -cruel lot, a sudden departure from this life in the midst of youth and -beauty and spring-time; and Demeter searches for her awhile in vain, -and mourns for her as men mourn their dead. Yet afterward it is found -that there is no cruelty in Kore’s lot, for she is the honoured bride -of the king of that world to which she was borne away; and Demeter is -comforted, for her child is not dead nor lost to her, but is allowed -to return in living form to visit her. What then must have been the -‘happier hopes’ held out to those who had looked on the great drama -of Eleusis? What was meant by that prospect of being ‘god-beloved -and sharing the life of gods’? How came it that the assembly of the -initiated believed their salvation to lie in the union of Hades and -Persephone, represented in the persons of hierophant and priestess, in -the subterranean nuptial-chamber? What was the bearing of the legend -dramatically enacted upon these hopes and prospects and beliefs? Surely -it taught that not only was there physical life beyond death, but a -life of wedded happiness with the gods. - -And the same doctrine seems to be the _motif_ of many other popular -legends and of mysteries founded thereon; its settings and its -harmonies may be different, but the essential melody is the same. At -Eleusis Demeter’s daughter was the representative of mankind, for she -went down to the house of Hades as is the lot of men. But Crete had -another legend wherein Demeter was the representative deity with whom -mankind might hope for union. Was it not told how Iasion even in this -life found such favour in the goddess’ eyes that she was ‘wed with -him in sweet love mid the fresh-turned furrows of the fat land of -Crete[1452]’? And happiness such as was granted to him here was laid -up for all the initiated hereafter; else would there be no meaning in -those lines, ‘Blessed, methinks, is the lot of him that sleeps, and -tosses not, nor turns, even Endymion; and, dearest maiden, blessed I -call Iasion, whom such things befell, as ye that be profane shall never -come to know[1453].’ Surely that which is withheld from the profane is -by implication reserved to the sanctified, and to them it is promised -that they shall know by their own experience hereafter the bliss which -Iasion even here obtained. It was, I think, in this spirit and this -belief that the Athenians in old time called their dead Δημητρεῖοι -‘Demeter’s folk[1454]’; for the popular belief in the condescension -of the Mistress, great and reverend goddess though she was, was so -firmly rooted, it would seem, that even to this day the folk-stories, -as we have seen, still tell how the ‘Mistress of the earth and of the -sea,’ she whom men still call Despoina and reverence for her love -of righteousness and for her stern punishment of iniquity, has yet -admitted brave heroes to her embrace in the mountain-cavern where, as -of old in Arcady, she still dwells[1455]. - -Nor did the cults of Demeter and Kore monopolise these hopes and -beliefs. In the religious drama of Aphrodite and Adonis, in the -Sabazian mysteries, in the holiest rites of Dionysus, in the wild -worship of Cybele, the same thought seems ever to recur. It matters -little whether these gods and their rites were foreign or Hellenic in -origin. If they were not native, at least they were soon naturalised, -and that for the simple reason that they satisfied the religious -cravings of the Greek race. The essential spirit of their worship, -whatever the accidents of form and expression, was the spirit of the -old Pelasgian worship of Demeter; and therefore, though Dionysus may -have been an immigrant from northern barbarous peoples, the Greeks did -not hesitate to give him room and honour beside Demeter in the very -sanctuary of Eleusis. Similar, we may well believe, was the lot of -other foreign gods and rites. Whencesoever derived, they owed their -reception in Greece to the fact that their character appealed to -certain native religious instincts of the Greek folk. Once transplanted -to Hellenic soil, they were soon completely Hellenized; those elements -which were foreign or distasteful to Greek religion were quickly -eradicated or of themselves faded into oblivion, while all that -accorded with the Hellenic spirit throve into fuller perfection; for -the character of a deity and of a cult depends ultimately upon the -character of the worshippers. - -It is fair therefore to treat of Aphrodite as of a genuinely Greek -deity; for, though she may have entered Greece from Eastern lands, -doubtless long before the Homeric age her worship no less than her -personality was permeated with the spirit of genuinely Greek religion. -Too well known to need re-telling here is the story of how--to use the -words of Theocritus once more--‘the beautiful Cytherea was brought by -Adonis, as he pastured his flock upon the mountain-side, so far beyond -the verge of frenzy, that not even in his death doth she put him from -her bosom[1456].’ Such was the plot of one of the most famous religious -dramas of old time. And what was its moral for those who had ears to -hear? Surely that the beloved of the gods may hope for wedlock with -them in death. - -It was certainly in this sense that Clement of Alexandria understood -certain other mysteries of Aphrodite, though, needless to say, he -puts upon them the most obscene construction. After relating in -terms unnecessarily disgusting the legend of how by the very act of -Uranus’ self-mutilation the sea became pregnant and gave birth from -among its foam to the goddess Aphrodite, he states that ‘in the rites -which celebrate this voluptuousness of the sea, as a token of the -goddess’ birth there are handed to those that are being initiated -into the lore of adultery (τοῖς μυουμένοις τὴν τέχνην τὴν μοιχικήν) -a lump of salt and a phallus; and they for their part present her -with a coin, as if they were her lovers and she their mistress (ὡς -ἑταίρας ἐρασταί)[1457].’ Thus Clement; but those who are willing -to see in the mysteries of the Greek religion something more than -organised sensuality will do well to reflect whether that which -Clement calls ‘being initiated into the lore of adultery’ was not -really an initiation into those hopes of marriage with the gods of -which we have already found evidence in the popular religion, and -whether the goddess’ symbolic acceptance of her worshippers as lovers -does not fit in exactly with that bold conception of man’s future -bliss. The symbolism indeed, if Clement’s statement is accurate, was -crude and even repellent, but its significance is clear; and those -who approached these mysteries of Aphrodite in reverent mood need not -have been repelled by that which modern taste would account indecent -in the ritual. Greek feeling never erred on the side of prudery; men -were familiar with the _Hermae_ erected in the streets and with the -symbolism of the _phallus_ in religious ceremonies, and tolerated -the publication of literature--be it the comedy of Aristophanes or -Clement’s own exhortation to the heathen--which neither as a source of -amusement nor of instruction would be tolerated now. - -The particular mysteries to which Clement alludes in this passage -seem to have been concerned with the story of Aphrodite’s birth, and -though it is difficult to conjecture how that story can have been made -to illustrate and to inculcate the doctrine of the marriage of men -and gods, the information given by Clement with respect to the ritual -makes it clear that such was their object. But in that other rite of -the same goddess, that namely which celebrated the story of Adonis, -the whole _motif_ of the drama was the continuance of Aphrodite’s love -for him after his death, a love so strong that it prevailed upon the -gods of the lower world to let him return for half of every year to -the upper world and the arms of his mistress. Here, though expressed -in different imagery, is the same doctrine as that which underlay the -drama of Eleusis. Here again is an illustration, or rather, for those -who were capable of religious ecstasy, a proof, of the doctrine that -the dead yet lived, and in that life were both in body and in soul one -with their gods. For ‘thrice-beloved Adonis who even in Acheron is -beloved[1458]’ was the type and forerunner of all those who had part in -his mysteries. - -In another version this legend of Adonis is brought into even closer -relation with the Eleusinian mysteries by the introduction of -Persephone[1459]. To her is assigned the part of a rival to Aphrodite, -and being equally enamoured of the beautiful Adonis she is glad of his -death whereby he is torn from the arms of Aphrodite in the upper world, -and enters the chamber of the nether world where her love in turn may -have its will; but in the end Aphrodite descends to the house of Hades, -and a compact is arranged between the two goddesses by which each in -turn may possess Adonis for half the year. This version of the story is -cruder, but its teaching is obviously the same--Adonis, the favourite -of heaven in this life, and the precursor of all who by initiation in -the mysteries win heaven’s favour, survives in the lower world with -both body and soul unimpaired by death, and is admitted to wedlock with -the great goddess of the dead. - -The same doctrine again seems to have been the basis of certain -mystic rites associated with Dionysus. From the speech against Neaera -attributed to Demosthenes we learn that at Athens there was annually -celebrated a marriage between the wife of the chief magistrate -(ἄρχων βασιλεύς) and Dionysus. The solemnity was reckoned among -things ‘unspeakable’; foreigners were not permitted to see or to -hear anything of it; and even Athenian citizens, it seems, might not -enter the innermost sanctuary in which the union of Dionysus with the -‘queen’ (βασίλιννα) was celebrated[1460]. There were however present -and assisting in some way fourteen priestesses (γεραραί), dedicated to -the service of the god and bound by special vows of chastity. These -priestesses, we are told, corresponded in number to the altars of -Dionysus[1461], and they were appointed by the archon whose wife was -wed with Dionysus[1462]. There our actual knowledge of the facts ends; -but there is material enough on which to base a rational surmise. The -correspondence between the number of priestesses bound by vows of -purity and the number of the altars suggests that in this custom is to -be sought a relic of human sacrifice. The selection of the priestesses -by the magistrate who held the title of ‘king’ suggests that in bygone -times it had been the duty of the king, as being also chief priest, to -select fourteen virgins who should be sacrificed on Dionysus’ altars -and thereby sent to him as wives. Subsequently maybe, as humanity -gradually mitigated the wilder rites of religion, the number of victims -was reduced to one; and later still the human sacrifice was altogether -abolished, and, instead of sending to Dionysus his wife by the road -of death, the still pious but now more humane worshippers of the god -contented themselves with a symbolic marriage between him and the wife -of their chief magistrate. - -The conception of human sacrifice as a means of sending a messenger -from this world to some power above, which receives clear expression in -that modern story from Santorini which I have narrated in an earlier -chapter[1463], was, I have there argued, known also to the ancient -Greeks; and the same means of communication may equally well have been -employed for the despatch of a human wife to some god. Plutarch appears -to have been actually familiar with this idea. In a passage in which -he is attempting to vindicate the purity and goodness of the gods and, -it must be added withal, their aloofness from human affairs, he claims -that all the religious rites and means of communion are concerned, not -with the great gods (θεοί), but with lesser deities (δαίμονες) who -are of varying character, some good, others evil, and that the rites -also vary accordingly. “As regards the mysteries,” he says, “wherein -are given the greatest manifestations or representations (ἐμφάσεις καὶ -διαφάσεις) of the truth concerning ‘daemons,’ let my lips be reverently -sealed, as Herodotus has it”; but the wilder orgies of religion, he -argues, are to be set down as a means of appeasing evil ‘daemons’ and -of averting their wrath; the human sacrifices of old time, for example, -were not demanded nor accepted by gods, but were performed to satisfy -either the vindictive anger of cruel and tormenting ‘daemons,’ or in -some cases “the wild and despotic passions (ἔρωτας) of ‘daemons’ who -could not and would not have carnal intercourse with carnal beings. -Just as Heracles besieged Oechalia to win a girl, so these strong and -violent ‘daemons,’ demanding a human soul that is shut up within a -body, and being unable to have bodily intercourse therewith, bring -pestilences and famines upon cities and stir up wars and tumults, -until they get and enjoy the object of their love.” And reversely, -he continues, some ‘daemons’ have punished with death men who have -forced their love upon them; and he refers to the story of a man who -violated a nymph and was found afterwards with his head severed from -his body[1464]. The whole passage betrays clearly enough what was the -popular belief which Plutarch here set himself so to explain as to -safeguard the goodness of the gods; but perhaps the end of it is the -most significant of all. Plutarch forgets that a nymph, if she is a -‘daemon,’ is by his own hypothesis incapable of bodily intercourse; in -this case then his attempted explanation is not even logically sound, -and his conception of a purely spiritual ‘daemon’ is a failure; but at -the same time, save for this invention, he is following the popular -belief of both ancient and modern Greece that carnal intercourse -between man and nymph is possible but is fraught with grave peril to -the man[1465]. It is impossible then to doubt that in the earlier part -of the passage he was explaining away a popular belief by means of -the same hypothesis. He himself would hold that spiritual ‘daemons’ -demanded human sacrifice because they lusted after a soul or spirit -confined out of their reach in a body until death severed it therefrom; -but the popular belief, which he is at pains to emend, was that -corporeal gods demanded human sacrifice because they lusted after the -person who, by death, would be sent, body and soul, to be wed with them. - -There is good reason then to suppose that in old time death may have -been even inflicted as the means of effecting wedlock between men and -gods; and that the mystic rite of union between Dionysus and the wife -of the Athenian magistrate was based on the same fundamental idea as -the mysteries of Demeter and Persephone or of Aphrodite. Though in this -instance, when once human sacrifice had been given up, all suggestion -of death was, so far as we know, removed from the solemnity, yet the -repetition year by year of a ceremony of marriage between the god and -a mortal woman representing his worshippers might still keep bright -in their minds those ‘happier hopes’ of the like bliss laid up for -themselves hereafter. - -This particular rite escaped the notice, or at any rate the malice, -of Clement; but Dionysus does not for all that go unscathed. Clement -fastens upon a legend concerning him, which, however widely ancient -Greek feeling in the matter of sex differed from modern, cannot but -have seemed to some of the ancients[1466] themselves to be a reproach -and stain upon the honour of their god. The story of Dionysus and -Prosymnus, as told by Clement[1467], must be taken as read. But those -who will investigate it for themselves will see that the same idea of -death being followed by close intercourse with the gods is present -there also. That this was the inner meaning of the peculiarly offensive -story is shown by a curious comment of Heraclitus upon it, which -Clement quotes--ωὐτὸς δε Ἀίδης καὶ Διόνυσος[1468], ‘Hades and Dionysus -are one’; whence it follows that union with Dionysus is a synonym for -that ‘marriage with Hades’ which elsewhere, in both ancient and modern -times, is a common presentment of death. - -Again in the Sabazian mysteries, which some connect with Dionysus and -others with Zeus, the little that is known of the ritual favours the -view that here also the _motif_ was the marriage of the deity with his -worshippers. According to Clement[1469], the subject-matter of these -mysteries was a story that Zeus, having become by Demeter the father -of Persephone, seduced in turn his own daughter, having as a means to -that end transformed himself into a snake. That story, it may safely be -said, is presented by Clement in its worst light; but the statement, -that in the ritual the deity was represented by a snake, obtains some -corroboration from Theophrastus, who says of the superstitious man, -that if he see a red snake in his house he will invoke Sabazius[1470]. -Now the token of these mysteries for those who were being initiated -in them was, according to Clement[1471] again, ‘the god pressed to -the bosom’ (ὁ διὰ κόλπου θεός); which phrase he explains by saying -that the god was represented as a snake, which was passed under the -clothing and drawn over the bosom of the initiated ‘as a proof of the -incontinence of Zeus.’ Clearly then the act of initiation was the -symbolic wedding of the worshipper with the deity worshipped; and it is -probable that the union which was symbolized in this life was expected -to be realised in the next. - -Finally in the orgiastic worship of Cybele the same religious doctrine -is revealed. Here to Attis seems to be assigned the same part as to -Adonis in the mysteries of Aphrodite. He is the beloved of the goddess; -he is lost and mourned for as dead; he is restored again from the -grave to the goddess who loved him. And in all this he appears to be -the representative of all Cybele’s worshippers; for the ritual of -initiation into her rites, if once again we may avail ourselves of -Clement’s statements, is strongly imbued with the idea of marriage -between the goddess and her worshipper. The several acts or stages of -initiation are summarised in four phrases: ‘I ate out of the drum; I -drank out of the cymbal; I carried the sacred vessel; I entered privily -the bed-chamber--ἐκ τυμπάνου ἔφαγον· ἐκ κυμβάλου ἔπιον· ἐκερνοφόρησα· -ὑπὸ τὸν παστὸν ὑπέδυν[1472]. In the passage from which these phrases -are culled there appears to be a certain confusion between the rites -of Cybele and those of Demeter; but the fact that Clement shortly -afterwards gives another formulary of Demeter’s ritual is sufficient -proof that he meant this present formulary, as indeed the mention of -kettle-drum and cymbal[1473] suggests, to apply to the mysteries of -Cybele[1474]. It appears then that the final act or stage of initiation -consisted in the secret admission of the worshipper to the bed-chamber -of the goddess. Such ritual can have borne only one interpretation. It -clearly constituted a promise of wedded union between the initiated -and their deity. Viewed in this light even the emasculation of the -priests of Cybele may more readily be understood; it may have been the -consecration of their virility to the service of the goddess, a final -and convincing pledge of celibacy in this life, in return for which -they aspired to be blest by wedlock with their goddess hereafter. - -The mention of the goddess’ bed-chamber in the above passage is of -considerable interest. The παστός (or παστάς) in relation to a temple -meant the same thing as it often meant in relation to an ordinary -house, an inner room or recess screened off, and in particular a -bridal chamber. Such provision for the physical comfort of the deity -was probably not rare. Pausanias tells us that on the right of -the vestibule in the Argive Heraeum there was a couch (κλίνη) for -Hera[1475], and he seems to speak of it as if it were a common enough -piece of temple furniture. So too at Phlya in Attica, where were held -the very ancient mystic rites ‘of her who is called the Great,’ there -was a bridal chamber (παστάς), where, it has rightly been argued, there -‘must have been enacted a mimetic marriage[1476].’ Again Clement of -Alexandria speaks of a παστός of Athena in the Parthenon, and makes -it quite clear by the story which he relates that he understood the -word in the sense of bed-chamber. The story is also for other reasons -worth recalling, because it shows how the religious conception of -marriage between men and gods was readily extended to the worship of -other deities than those whose mysteries we have sought to unravel, -and at the same time furnishes the only case known to me in which -that mystic belief was prostituted to the base uses of flattery. The -occasion was the reception accorded by the Athenians to Demetrius -Poliorcetes. Not content with hailing him as a god in name, they went -so far in their mean-spirited subjection as to set up a temple, at -the place where he dismounted from his horse on entering their city, -to Demetrius the Descender (Καταιβάτης)[1477], while on every side -altars were erected to him. But their grossest piece of flattery was -a master-piece of grotesque impiety, and met with a fitting reward. A -marriage was arranged between him (the most notorious profligate of his -age) and Athena. ‘He however,’ we are told, ‘disdained the goddess, -being unable to embrace the statue, but took with him to the Acropolis -the courtesan Lamia, and polluted the bed-chamber of Athena, exhibiting -to the old virgin the postures of the young courtesan[1478].’ Even that -contemptuous response to the Athenians’ flattery did not abash them, -but, finding that he did not favour their acknowledged deity, they -determined to deify his acknowledged favourite, and erected a temple to -Lamia Aphrodite[1479]. - -But such travesties of holy things were rare; and this one notorious -case excited the contempt alike of the man[1480] to whom the flattery -was paid and of all posterity--a contempt which teaches, hardly less -clearly than the indignation excited a century earlier by the supposed -profanation of the mysteries, in what reverence and high esteem the -idea of marriage between men and gods was generally held. - -Even Lucian, in whom reverence was a less pronounced characteristic -than humour, condemns seriously enough a parody of the mysteries -of Eleusis which occurred in his own day; and his account of it at -the same time shows once more that the marriage of men and gods was -the very essence of the mysteries. The impostor Alexander, he says, -instituted rites with carrying of torches (δᾳδουχία) and exposition -of the sacred ceremonies (ἱεροφαντία) lasting for three days. “On -the first there was a proclamation, as at Athens, as follows: ‘If -any atheist, Christian, or Epicurean hath come to spy upon the holy -rites, let him begone, and let the faithful be initiated with heaven’s -blessing.’ Then first of all there was an expulsion of intruders. -Alexander himself led the way, crying ‘Out with Christians,’ and the -whole multitude shouted in answer ‘Out with Epicureans.’ Then was -enacted the story of Leto in child-bed and the birth of Apollo, and his -marriage with Coronis and the birth of Asclepius; and on the second day -the manifestation of Glycon and the god’s birth[1481]. And on the third -day was the wedding of Podalirius and Alexander’s mother; this was -called the Torch-day, for torches were burnt. And finally there was the -love of Selene and Alexander, and the birth of his daughter now married -to Rutilianus[1482]. Our Endymion-Alexander was now torch-bearer and -exponent of the rites. And he lay as it were sleeping in the view of -all, and there came down to him from the roof--as it were Selene from -heaven--a certain Rutilia, a very beautiful woman, the wife of one of -Caesar’s household-officers, who was really in love with Alexander -and was loved by him, and she kissed the rascal’s eyes and embraced -him in the view of all, and, if there had not been so many torches, -worse would perhaps have followed (τάχα ἄν τι καὶ τῶν ὑπὸ κόλπου -ἐπράττετο)[1483].” - -The inferences which may be drawn from this narrative are, first, that -the mysteries in general, while reproducing in some dramatic form the -whole story of the deities concerned, culminated in the representation -of a mystic marriage between men and gods; (the birth of a child was -also represented or announced in this parody, as we know that it -was at Eleusis[1484], but it had, I am inclined to think, no mystic -significance otherwise than as proof of the consummation of that -marriage;) and, secondly, that the wild charges of indecency brought by -early Christian writers against the mysteries are baseless; for Lucian -condemns a much lesser license in this parody than that which they -attributed to the genuine rites. - -Thus our examination of the mysteries, so far as they are known to us, -tends to prove that the doctrines revealed in them to the initiated -were simply a development of certain vaguer popular ideas which have -been prevalent among the Greek folk from the classical age down to our -own day. The people entertained hopes that this physical life would -continue in a similar form after death; the mysteries gave definite -assurance of that immortality by exhibiting to the initiated Persephone -or Adonis or Attis restored from the lower world in bodily form; and -though that exhibition was in fact merely a dramatic representation, -yet to the eyes of religious ecstasy it seemed just as much a living -reality as does the risen Christ in the modern celebration of Easter. -The people again were wont to think and to speak of death as a marriage -into the lower world; the mysteries showed to the initiated certain -representatives of mankind who by death, or even in life, had been -admitted to the felicity of wedlock with deities, and thereby confirmed -the faithful in their happier hopes of being in like manner themselves -god-beloved and of sharing the life of gods. - -Since then there is good reason to believe that this was in effect the -secret teaching of the mysteries, it would naturally be expected that -human marriage should have been reckoned as it were a foretaste of -that union with the divine which was promised hereafter, and also that -death should have been counted the hour of its approaching fulfilment; -in other words, if my view of the mysteries is correct, it would -almost inevitably follow that the mysteries should have been brought -into close association both with weddings and with funerals. This -expectation is confirmed by the facts. - -An ordinary wedding was treated as something akin to initiation into -the mysteries. An inscription of Cos[1485], relating to the appointment -of priestesses of Demeter, mentions among other duties certain services -on the occasion of weddings; and the brides, who are the recipients -of these services, are divided into two classes, αἱ τελεύμεναι and αἱ -ἐπινυμφευόμεναι, the maidens who, are being ‘initiated,’ and the widows -who are being married again; a woman’s first marriage in fact is called -by a religious document her initiation, and Demeter’s priestesses -are charged therewith. Nor was this usage or idea confined to Cos; -Plutarch speaks of services rendered by the priestess of Demeter in -the solemnisation of matrimony as part of an ‘ancestral rite[1486]’; -while the term τέλος was commonly used both of the mystic rites and of -marriage, and τέλειοι might denote the newly-wed[1487]. - -The same thought seems also to have inspired another custom -associated with marriage. The newly-wed, we hear, sometimes attended -a representation of the marriage of Zeus and Hera[1488], an ἱερὸς -γάμος which formed the subject of mystic drama or legend all over -Greece[1489]. The widely extended cults of Hera under the titles of -Maiden (παρθένος or παῖς) and of Bride (τελεία or νυμφευομένη) appear -to have been closely interwoven; indeed for a full appreciation of the -Greek conception of the goddess they must be treated as complementary. -They are well interpreted by Farnell. Rejecting the theory of physical -symbolism, he suggests ‘a more human explanation. Hera was essentially -the goddess of women, and the life of women was reflected in her; -their maidenhood and marriage were solemnised by the cults of Hera -Παρθένος and Hera Τελεία or Νυμφευομένη, and the very rare worship of -Hera Χήρα might allude to the not infrequent custom of divorce and -separation[1490].’ With, Hera the Widow we are not here concerned, -but only with the higher conceptions of Zeus and Hera as expressed in -the representation of the ‘sacred marriage’; the bride and bridegroom -who looked upon that saw in it, we may be sure, not a symbolical -representation of the seasons and the productive powers of the earth, -but rather the divine prototype of human marriage. It reminded them -that deities, like mortals, were married and given in marriage, and it -imparted to their wedding a sacramental character, making it at once a -foretaste and a gage of that close communion with the gods which, when -death the dividing line between mortals and immortals should once be -passed, awaited the blessed among mankind. - -Other small points too suggest the same trend of thought. The -preliminaries of a wedding often comprised a sacrifice to Zeus -Teleios and Hera Teleia[1491], and were called προτέλεια being the -‘preliminaries of initiation’ into that mystery, of which the -sacred marriage, enacted before the now wedded pair, was the full -revelation[1492]. Again these preliminaries always included the -solemn ablution[1493] of which I have spoken above, and in this -resembled the preparations for admittance to the mysteries. Moreover -an instance is recorded in which this ablution was itself invested -with the significance of a wedding between the human and the divine. -The maidens of the Troad before marriage were wont to unrobe and bathe -themselves in the Scamander; and the prayer which they made to the -river-god, whose bed they entered, was, ‘Receive thou, Scamander, my -virginity[1494].’ Finally the first night on which the wedded pair came -together was known as the ‘mystic night’ (νὺξ μυστική)[1495], a term -not a little suggestive of the great night of Demeter’s mysteries when -to the eyes of the initiated was displayed the secret proof and promise -of wedlock between men and gods hereafter. In short the ceremonies -of a wedding by one means or another proclaimed it to be a form of -initiation, and the estate of marriage was to the Greeks, as our -prayer-book calls it, ‘an excellent mystery.’ - -Hence naturally followed the belief that the unmarried and the -uninitiated shared the same fate in the future life. One conception -of the punishment of the uninitiated was, according to Plato[1496], -that they should carry water in a sieve to a broken jar; and this, as -is well known, was also the lot of the Danaids in the nether world. -Commenting on these facts Dr Frazer says, ‘It is possible that the -original reason why the Danaids were believed to be condemned to this -punishment in hell was not so much that they murdered, as that they did -not marry, the sons of Aegyptus. According to one tradition indeed they -afterwards married other husbands (Paus. III. 12. 2); but according -to another legend they were murdered by Lynceus, apparently before -marriage (Schol. on Euripides, _Hecuba_, 886). They may therefore have -been chosen as types of unmarried women, and their punishment need -not have been peculiar to them but may have been the one supposed to -await all unmarried persons in the nether world[1497].’ A passage of -Lucian, which appears to have been overlooked in this connexion[1498], -converts the view of the Danaids which Dr Frazer considers possible -into a practical certainty. The passage in point forms the conclusion -of that dialogue in which Poseidon with the aid of Triton plots and -carries out the rape of Amymone, the Danaid. She has just been seized -and is protesting against her abduction and threatening to call her -father, when Triton intervenes: ‘Keep quiet, Amymone,’ he says, ‘it -is Poseidon.’ And the girl rejoins, ‘Oh, Poseidon you call him, do -you?’ and then turning to her ravisher, ‘What do you mean, sirrah, by -handling me so roughly, and dragging me down into the sea? I shall -go under and be drowned, miserable girl.’ And Poseidon answers, ‘Do -not be frightened, you shall come to no harm; no, I will strike the -rock here, near where the waves break, with my trident, and will let -a spring burst up which shall bear your name, and you yourself shall -be blessed and, unlike your sisters, shall not carry water when you -are dead (καὶ σὺ εὐδαίμων ἔσῃ καὶ μόνη τῶν ἀδελφῶν οὐχ ὑδροφορήσεις -ἀποθανοῦσα)[1499].’ The whole point of Poseidon’s answer clearly -depends upon the existence of a well-known belief that the Danaids were -punished hereafter for remaining unmarried and that the punishment took -the form of vainly fetching water for that bridal bath which was a -necessary preliminary to a wedding; Amymone shall have a very thorough -bridal bath, and the spring that bears her name shall be a monument -of it, while she herself shall be ‘blessed’ by wedlock with Poseidon; -thus shall she escape the fate of the unmarried. Clearly then there was -no distinction between the uninitiated and the unmarried; both alike -were doomed vainly to fetch water for those ablutions which preceded -initiation into the mysteries or into matrimony; and once again the -conception of marriage as a mystic and sacramental rite akin to the -rites of Eleusis is clearly revealed. - -It may further be noted here that this idea of the punishment of the -unmarried completely explains the custom, on which I have already -touched, of erecting a water-pitcher (λουτροφόρος) over the grave of -unmarried persons. This intimated, according to Eustathius[1500], that -the person there buried had never taken the bath which both bride and -bridegroom were wont to take before marriage. But this must not be -taken to mean that the water-pitcher was erected as a symbol of the -punishment which the dead person was supposed to be undergoing; this -was not an idea which his relatives and friends, even if they had held -it, would have wished to blazon abroad. One might as soon expect to -find depicted on a modern tombstone the worm that dieth not and the -fire that is not quenched. No; the water-pitcher was not a symbol, it -was an instrument; for my part I have little faith in the existence -of any symbols in popular religion which are not in origin at least -instruments; and the purpose to which this instrument was put was to -supply the dead person with that wedding-bath which he had not taken -in life, and without which he would vainly strive in the under-world -to prepare himself for divine wedlock. The water-pitcher was not -commemorative, but preventive, of future punishment. Its erection was -not a warning to the living, but a service to the dead. - -Thus then the evidence for the intimate association of the mysteries, -or of the main idea which runs through them, with human weddings is -complete and, I hope, convincing; and the custom of the water-pitcher, -which concludes it, fitly introduces at the same time the evidence -for the association of the same idea with funerals. This is equally -plentiful. The vague conception of death as a wedding, which as I have -shown was elaborated in the mysteries, has of course already been -exemplified in all those passages of ancient literature and modern -folk-songs which I have adduced, and I have found in it also the motive -for the assimilation of funeral-customs to the customs of marriage. -But the evidence that the actual doctrines of the mysteries, in which -more definite expression was given to that vague idea, were closely -associated with death and funeral-custom is to be found rather in -epitaphs and sepulchral monuments. -The tone of the epitaphs may be sufficiently illustrated by a single -couplet: - - Οὐκ ἐπιδὼν νύμφεια λέχη κατέβην τὸν ἄφυκτον - Γόργιππος ξανθῆς Φερσεφόνης θάλαμον[1501]. - -‘I, Gorgippus, lived not to look upon a bridal bed ere I went down -to the chamber of bright-haired Persephone which none may escape.’ -There is naturally here a note of lament, as befits any epitaph, and -more especially that of one who dies young and unmarried; but none -the less there is an anticipation--justified, we may think, if we -will, by some ceremony of bridal ablution performed for the dead man -by his friends--that his death is a wedding with the goddess of the -under-world; and indeed the phrase Φερσεφόνης θάλαμος, ‘the bridal -chamber of Persephone,’ recurs with some frequency in this class of -epitaphs[1502]. - -Considered collectively, such epitaphs would suggest a distinctly -offensive conception of Persephone; but in each taken separately, as -it was composed, it will be allowed, I think, that if there is supreme -audacity, there is equal sublimity. It is just these qualities which -give pungency to a blasphemous parody of such epitaphs, in which the -wit of Ausonius exposes the worst possible aspect of a religious -conception which to the pure-minded was wholly pure. My apology for -quoting lines which I will not translate must be the fact that a -caricature is often no less instructive than a true portrait. The mock -epitaph concludes as follows: - - Sed neque functorum socius miscebere vulgo - Nec metues Stygios flebilis umbra lacus: - Verum aut Persephonae Cinyreius ibis Adonis, - Aut Jovis Elysii tu catamitus eris[1503]. - -Ausonius in jest bears an unpleasant resemblance to Clement in earnest; -both perverted to their uttermost a doctrine which commanded nothing -but reverence from faithful participants in the mysteries. - -Akin to these epitaphs are certain tablets which recently have been -fully discussed by Miss Jane Harrison[1504], and have been shown to -be of Orphic origin. They were buried with the dead, and for this -reason were more outspoken in their references to the mystic doctrines -than was permissible in epitaphs exposed to the vulgar gaze. The most -complete of these tablets is one which was found near Sybaris, and, -with the exception of the last sentence of all, the inscription is in -hexameter verse. Miss Harrison, to whose work I am wholly indebted for -this valuable evidence, translates as follows[1505]: - - ‘Out of the pure I come, Pure Queen of Them Below, - Eukles and Eubouleus and the other Gods immortal. - For I also avow me that I am of your blessed race, - But Fate laid me low and the other Gods immortal - ... starflung thunderbolt. - I have flown out of the sorrowful weary Wheel. - I have passed with eager feet to the Circle desired. - I have sunk beneath the bosom of Despoina, Queen of the Underworld. - I have passed with eager feet from the Circle desired. - Happy and Blessed One, thou shalt be God instead of mortal. - A kid I have fallen into milk.’ - -The gist of the document which the dead man takes with him is then -briefly this. He claims to have been pure originally and of the same -race as his gods; but as a man he was mortal and exposed to death, -and in this respect differed from his gods. He states however that he -has performed certain ritual acts which entitle him to be re-admitted -to the pure fellowship of the gods now that death is passed. And the -answer comes, ‘Thou shalt be God instead of mortal.’ - -Now here I wish to consider one only of these ritual acts--that one of -which the meaning is clearest--Δεσποίνας δ’ ὑπὸ κόλπον ἔδυν χθονίας -βασιλείας, which means, if I may give my own rendering, ‘I was admitted -to the embrace of Despoina, Queen of the under-world.’ The phrase -is one which repeats the idea which we have already seen expressed -in the formulary of Cybele’s rites, ὑπὸ τὸν παστὸν ὑπέδυν[1506], ‘I -was privily admitted to the bridal chamber,’ and in the token of the -Sabazian mysteries, ὁ διὰ κόλπου θεός[1507], ‘the god pressed to -the bosom’; and Lucian’s final phrase in his account of Alexander’s -mock-mysteries shows a kindred phrase, τὰ ὑπὸ κόλπου[1508], as an -euphemism of the same kind[1509]. The Orphic therefore no less than -others based his claim to future happiness on the fact that he had -performed a ritual act, of the nature of a sacrament, which constituted -a pledge that the wedlock between him and his goddess foreshadowed here -should be consummated hereafter. - -Even more abundant evidence is furnished by sepulchral monuments; -and in support of my views I cannot do better than quote two high -authorities who coincide in their verdict upon the meaning of the -scenes represented. In reference to those scenes ‘in which death -is conceived in the guise of a marriage’ Furtwängler writes: ‘The -monuments belonging to this class are extraordinarily numerous, and -exhibit very different methods of treating the idea which they carry -out. A relief upon a sarcophagus from the Villa Borghese shows the God -of the dead in the act of carrying down the fair Kore to be his bride -in the lower world. Above the steeds of his chariot, which are already -disappearing into the depths of the earth, flies Eros as guide. The -bride however appears to be going only under compulsion and after some -struggle; the look of the bridegroom expresses sternness rather than -gentleness; and the mother who sits with face averted seems to exclude -all thoughts of the daughter’s return. Only in the torches which the -guide carries in his hand, in the snakes which are looking upward, and -in the observant attitude of Hecate, can a suggestion of the return be -found. - -‘On another sarcophagus--from Nazzara--which represents the same -marriage-journey, Eros is not merely the guide of the steeds, but aids -the bridegroom in carrying off Kore, so that in this case the struggle -with death takes purely the form of a struggle with love. At the same -time the mother is driving along with her chariot, thereby signifying -the renewal of life, which is yet more clearly betokened in the -ploughman and the sower at her side. - -‘In a yet gentler spirit we see the same journey conceived in a -vase-painting from lower Italy. Here there is a look of gentleness -on Hades’ face; the bride accompanies him gladly, and even takes an -affectionate farewell of her mother, who appears to acquiesce in her -departure. In this case too Eros is flying above the horses, and is -turned towards the lovers, while in front of him there flies a dove, -the bird sacred to the goddess of love. Hecate with torches guides the -steeds; near at hand waits Hermes to escort the procession; and above -the whole scene the stars are shining, as if to indicate the new life -in the region of death. - -‘In another form, exalted to a yet higher holiness, the same marriage -is repeated in the sphere of Dionysus-worship. Thus on a cameo in the -Vatican, Dionysus is represented driving with his bride, Ariadne, in -a brightly-decked triumphal car. Holy rapture is manifested on the -features of both, and on top of the chariot stands a Cupid directing -it. Dionysus is arrayed in the doe-skin, and holds in his left hand -a _thyrsus_, in his right a goblet; Ariadne is carrying ears of corn -and poppy-heads, and has her hair wreathed with vine-leaves. The car -is drawn by Centaurs of both sexes, with torches, drinking-horns, -and musical instruments. The idea which underlies this scene is the -reproduction of Life out of Death; Hades has issued forth again for -a new marriage-bond with Kore in the realm of light, appearing now -rejuvenated in the form of Dionysus, just as his bride assumes the form -of Ariadne, and because the power of death is broken behind him, his -car likewise becomes a triumphal car. - -‘Just as the marriage of Zeus in the realm of light became a type for -men in this life, so the marriage of Hades, or of Dionysus representing -him, developed into a similar prototype for the dead. Since that which -is true of Death bears directly upon the actual dead, it was quite -natural that gradually the process of death came to be considered in -general as a wedding with the deities of death. With this conception -too harmonize those wedding-scenes which are so common and conspicuous -on funeral monuments, as well as the often-recurring scenes from the -joyous cycle of Dionysus-myths[1510].’ -Two brief comments may be made upon this passage. First, Furtwängler -clearly recognises in Dionysus a mere substitute for Hades, and thus -confirms my interpretation of the strange legend concerning Dionysus -and Prosymnus[1511]. We noticed that the somewhat obscure observation -of Heraclitus (as quoted by Clement) upon that story contained the -words ‘Dionysus and Hades are one and the same’; and we now see that -in art too the same identification was made, and that the marriage of -a mortal with Dionysus was used to typify the future marriage of the -dead with their gods. The reason for this identification seems simply -to be that the cults in which the two gods figured, although differing -in outward form, were felt to express one and the same idea--namely the -conception of death as a form of marriage; and the tendency to identify -in such cases was carried so far that the god Dionysus was even, we are -told, identified with the mortal Adonis[1512], presumably because the -worship of each, as I have shown above, turned upon this one cardinal -doctrine. - -Secondly, Furtwängler points out that the marriage of Zeus and Hera -represented for living men the same doctrine as the marriage of Hades -and Persephone (or of Dionysus and Ariadne) represented for the dead. -The truth of this is well illustrated by the close resemblance between -Aristophanes’ picture of Hera’s wedding and those funeral monuments -and vases which Furtwängler describes; for there too ‘golden-winged -Eros held firm the reins, and drave the wedding-car of Zeus and blessed -Hera[1513].’ In other words, this Olympian marriage was only one among -several mystic marriages which all conveyed, though in diverse form, -the same lesson, that marriage was the perfection of divine life no -less than of human life, and therefore that hereafter when men, or at -any rate the blessed and initiated among men, should come to dwell with -their gods, no bond of communion between gods and men could be perfect -short of the marriage-bond. - -It was natural enough that the drama of Hera’s wedding with Zeus should -most often have been chosen to be played at an ordinary wedding, -because it would not obtrude thoughts of death upon a joyous event -with such insistence as most of the other religious legends which -reposed upon the same fundamental doctrine; but sometimes, we know, it -was the priestesses of Demeter who officiated at wedding-ceremonies, -and in those cases it cannot be doubted that it was Persephone and not -Hera who was the divine prototype of the bride, and the thought that -her wedding was a wedding with the god of death could not have been -excluded. At funerals, on the other hand, the story of Zeus and Hera -which was preferred at weddings owing to its less obvious allusion to -death, would for that same reason have found less favour than those -other marriage-legends in which the identity of death with marriage -was more clearly enunciated; and of these, owing to the exceptional -reverence in which the Eleusinian mysteries were held, the story of -Persephone seems to have been among the most frequent. Yet in the -picture drawn by Aristophanes at which we have just glanced, for one -subtle touch which suggests the connexion of Hera’s wedding with human -weddings, there is another subtle touch which suggests its relation -with human death. The first is an epithet applied to Eros who drove the -wedding-car--the epithet ἀμφιθαλής, used of one who has both parents -living[1514]. The allusion to human weddings is clear. It was no doubt -imperative in old time, as it still is, in Greece, that anyone who -attended upon a bride or bridegroom, as for instance the bearer of -water for the bridal bath, should have both parents living; and the -use of the same term in reference to Eros, the attendant upon Zeus -and Hera, marks the intimate connexion between the divine marriage -and the marriage of living men and women. But another epithet in the -passage conveys no less clear an allusion to the marriage of those, -whom men call dead, with their deities. Hera is named εὐδαίμων, a word -which, meaning ‘favoured by God,’ may seem strangely applied to one -who herself was divine[1515]. But it was selected by Aristophanes for -a good reason; by the word εὐδαιμονία was commonly denoted that future -bliss which the initiated believed to consist in wedlock with their -deities. Like θεοφιλής, ‘god-beloved,’ the term εὐδαίμων, ‘blessed,’ -was, so to speak, a catch-word of the mysteries[1516]; and the -application of it to Hera in Aristophanes’ ode brings the legend of -Hera’s marriage into rank with those other wedding-stories whose actual -plot hinged upon the identity of death and marriage. Thus though one -legend might be more appropriate in its externals to one occasion, and -another legend to another occasion, the ultimate and fundamental idea -of them all was single and the same. - -This view is boldly championed by the second authority whom I proposed -to quote upon the subject of mystic marriage-scenes depicted on -funeral-monuments. ‘The idea,’ says Lenormant, ‘of mystic union -in death is frequently indicated in the scenes represented upon -_sarcophagi_ and painted vases. But for the most part the idea is -expressed there only in an allusive manner, which depends upon the -identification which this marriage-scene established between the dead -person and the deity, by means of such subjects as the carrying off -of Cephalus by Aurora, or Orithyia by Boreas, or the love-story of -Aphrodite and Adonis[1517].’ ‘Thus,’ he explains, ‘a girl carried -off (by death) from her parents was simply a bride betrothed to the -infernal god, and was identified with Demeter’s maiden daughter, the -victim of the passion and violence of Hades; a young man cut off by an -early fate figured as the beautiful Adonis, snatched away by Persephone -from the love of Aphrodite, and brought, in spite of himself, to the -bed of the queen of the lower world[1518].’ The identification which -Lenormant sees in these several instances is an identification, I -suppose, not of personalities but of destinies. The popular religion -of ancient Greece shows little trace of any pantheistic view which -would have contemplated the absorption of the personality of the dead -man or woman into that of any god or goddess. Indeed the very number -of the personally distinct deities with whom, on such an hypothesis, -the dead would have been identified, as well as that continuance of -sexual difference in the future life which is postulated by the very -doctrine before us, precludes all thought of personal identification. -Rather it is the future destiny of the dead person which was identified -with the destiny of the deity or hero whose marriage was represented on -sarcophagus or _cippus_ or commemorative vase[1519]. The lot of Kore or -Ariadne or Orithyia prefigured the lot of mortal women hereafter; the -fortunes of Adonis or Cephalus typified those of mortal men; and all -the marriage-scenes alike, whatever the differences of presentation, -revealed the hope and the promise of wedlock hereafter between mankind -and their deities. - -But Lenormant mentions one vase-painting[1520] in which this -fundamental doctrine is taught not by parables of mythology, but more -overtly and directly. The scene depicted is the marriage of a youth, -whose name, Polyetes, is in pathetic contrast with his short span of -years spent upon earth, with a goddess Eudaemonia (or ‘Bliss’) in the -lower world. In this deity Lenormant sees ‘the infernal goddess under -an euphemistic name.’ Nor could any more significant name have been -used. It has already been pointed out that εὐδαιμονία was a term much -favoured by the initiated in the mysteries, and was openly used by them -to denote that future bliss which secretly was understood to consist in -divine wedlock. Hence the scene upon this vase would at once suggest to -those who were familiar with the doctrines of the mysteries, that the -youth, being presumably of the number of the initiated, had found in -death the realisation of his happy hopes and had entered into blissful -union with the goddess of the lower world. - - * * * * * - -To sum up briefly: we have seen alike in the literature of ancient -Greece and in the folk-songs of modern Greece that death has commonly -been conceived by the Hellenic race in the guise of a wedding; a review -of marriage-customs and funeral-customs both ancient and modern has -re-affirmed the constant association of death and marriage, and has -shown how deep-rooted in the minds of the common people that idea must -have been which produced a deliberate assimilation of funeral-rites -to the ceremonies of marriage. Next we investigated the connexion -of the mysteries with the popular religion, and saw reason to hold -that, far from being subversive of it or alien to it, they inculcated -doctrines which were wholly evolved from vaguer popular ideas always -current in Greece. Finally we traced in many of those legends, on which -the dramatic representations of the mysteries are known to have been -based, a common _motif_, the idea that death is the entrance for men -into a blissful estate of wedded union with their deities. And this -religious ideal not only satisfies the condition of agreement with, -and evolution from, those popular views in which death figured somewhat -vaguely as a form of wedding, but also proves to be the natural and -necessary outcome of two religious sentiments with which earlier -chapters have dealt; first, the ardent desire for close communion with -the gods, and secondly, the belief that men’s bodies as well as their -souls survived death and dissolution; for if the body by means of its -disintegration rejoined the soul in the nether world, and the human -entity was then complete, enjoying the same substantial existence, -the same physical no less than mental powers, which it had enjoyed in -the upper world, and which the immortal gods enjoyed uninterrupted by -death, then, since the same rite of marriage was the consummation both -of divine life and of human life, men’s yearning for close communion -with their gods required for its ideal and perfect satisfaction the -full union of wedlock; and the sacrament which assured men of this -consummation was the highest development of the whole Greek religion, -the mysteries. - -Such a sacrament and such aspirations might well have offended even -those Christians of early days, if such there were, who were willing to -deal sympathetically with paganism; that those who were its declared -enemies, and were ready to use against it the weapons of perversion and -vituperation, found in this conception a vulnerable point, is readily -understood. It is true indeed that in the very idea which they most -vilified there was a certain curious analogy between the new religion -and the old. Just as paganism allowed to each man or woman individually -the hope of becoming the bridegroom or the bride of one of their many -deities, so Christianity represented the Church, the whole body of the -faithful collectively, as the bride of its sole deity. But the analogy -is superficial only. The bond of feeling which united the Church with -God was very differently conceived from that which drew together the -pagans and their deities. The chastened ‘charity’ (ἀγάπη) of the -Christians had little in common with the passionate love (ἔρως) with -which the Greeks of old time had dared look upon their gods. Theirs -was the Love that ‘held firm the reins and drave the wedding-car of -Zeus and blessed Hera[1521]’; the Love that hovered above the steeds -of Hades and changed for Persephone the road of death into a road to -bliss; the Love whom ‘no immortal may escape nor any of mankind whose -life passeth it as a day, but whoso hath him is as one mad[1522]’; and -the only true consummation of such love was wedlock. - -This conception necessarily implied the equality of men with their gods -in the future life; and that future equality was sometimes represented -as no more than a return to that which was in the beginning. ‘One is -the race of men with the race of gods; for one is the mother that gave -to both our breath; yet are they sundered by powers wholly diverse, in -that mankind is as naught, but heaven is builded of brass that abideth -ever unshaken[1523].’ So sang Pindar of the past and of the present; -but the Orphic tablet which has been already quoted carries on the -thought into the future: - - ‘Out of the pure I come, Pure Queen of Them Below, - Eukles and Eubouleus and the other Gods immortal. - For I also avow me that I am of your blessed race, - But Fate laid me low....’ - -So far with Pindar. But the dead man’s claims do not end there: ‘I was -admitted to the embrace of Despoina, Queen of the Underworld’; already -had he received a foretaste of that divine wedlock which implied -equality with the gods; and so there comes the answer, ‘Happy and -Blessed One, thou shalt be God instead of mortal.’ - -This idea commended itself even to thinkers who did not believe in -bodily survival after death. Plato, in the _Phaedo_, where above all -things is taught the perishable nature of the body and the immortality -of the soul alone, yet avails himself of the belief that the pure among -mankind shall attain even to godhead hereafter. To him the pure are -not the initiated indeed, but the earnest strivers after wisdom. In -his theory of retributive metempsychosis he surmises that those who -have followed the lusts of the flesh shall hereafter enter the ranks of -asses and other lustful beasts; that those who have wrought violence -shall enter the ranks of wolves and hawks and kites; that those who -have practised what is popularly accounted virtue, but without true -understanding, shall enter the ranks of harmless and social creatures, -bees, wasps, and ants, or even the ranks of men once more. ‘But -into the ranks of gods none may enter without having followed after -wisdom and so departing hence wholly pure--none save the lover of -knowledge[1524].’ What precise meaning Plato attached to his phrase -‘to enter the ranks’ (εἰς γένος ἐνδύεσθαι or ἀφικνεῖσθαι), to which -he adheres throughout the passage, is a question which agitated the -Neoplatonists[1525] somewhat needlessly. The phrase is intended either -literally throughout or allegorically throughout. If it be allegorical, -the meaning must be that all human souls shall enter again into human -bodies, but that they shall start this new phase of existence with the -qualities of lust, violence, respectability, or real virtue and purity, -acquired in the previous life--merely resembling, as nearly as men may, -asses, wolves, bees, or gods. Now as regards the first three classes, -this allegorical interpretation, if a little forced, is feasible -enough; but what of the fourth class? Shall the soul which has attained -purity, the very negation of fleshliness in Plato’s view, suffer -re-incarnation and struggle once more against the flesh? Surely the -allegorical explanation is at once condemned. The phrase was intended -literally[1526]. Plato signified the re-incarnation of the lustful, -the violent, and the merely respectable, in the forms of animals of -like character, and he signified--I must not say the re-incarnation, -for Plato’s gods were spiritual and not carnal--but the regeneration -of the pure in the form of gods. And in the same spirit Plutarch too -contemplated the possibility of some men’s souls becoming first heroes, -and from heroes rising to the rank of ‘daemons,’ and from ‘daemons’ -coming to share, albeit but rarely, in real godhead[1527]. - -Thus even the highest aspirations of the most spiritually-minded of -pagan thinkers owed much to the purely popular religion. The Orphic -tablet links up the popular conception of death as a wedding with the -Platonic conception of the deification of the soul. ‘I was admitted to -the embrace of Despoina, Queen of the underworld’: ‘Happy and Blessed -One, thou shalt be God instead of mortal.’ - -But if Plato, even in his conception of a purely spiritual life -hereafter, owed something to the popular religion, he drew upon it -far more freely in his conception of Love. In the _Symposium_ one -speech after another culminates in the assertion of that belief which -found its highest expression in the mysteries. ‘So then I say,’ says -Phaedrus, ‘that Love is the most venerable of the gods, the most -worthy of honour, the most powerful to grant virtue and blessedness -unto mankind both in life and after death[1528].’ And in the same tone -too Eryximachus: ‘He it is that wields the mightiest power and is -the source for us of all blessedness and of our power to have loving -fellowship both with one another and with the gods that are stronger -than we[1529].’ And finally Aristophanes: It is Love, ‘who in this -present life gives us most joys by drawing like unto like, and for our -hereafter displays hopes most high, if we for our part display piety -towards the gods, that he will restore us to our erstwhile nature and -will heal us and will make us happy and blessed[1530].’ - -This is not Platonic philosophy but popular religion. Phrase after -phrase reveals the origin of this conception of Love. The hopes most -high were the hopes held forth by the mysteries; the blessedness and -the loving fellowship with gods were the fulfilment of those hopes. -In such language did men ever hint at the joys to which their mystic -sacraments gave access. And Plato here ventures yet further. The author -of those high hopes, the founder of that blessedness, he proclaims, is -none other than Love--Love that appealed not to the soul only of the -initiated, but to the whole man, both soul and body--Love that meant -not only the yearning after wisdom and holiness and spiritual equality -with the gods, but that same passion which drew together man and woman, -god and goddess--the passion of mankind for their deities, fed in this -life by manifold means of communion and even by sacramental union, -satisfied hereafter in the full fruition of wedded bliss. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1358] _Il._ XI. 241. - -[1359] Hes. _W. and D._ 116. - -[1360] e.g. Hom. _Il._ XVI. 454 and 672; XIV. 231. - -[1361] Hes. _Theog._ 212, 756. - -[1362] See Preller, _Griech. Myth._ I. 690 ff. - -[1363] Paus. V. 18. 1. Cf. III. 18. 1. - -[1364] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ CCCXCVI. - -[1365] Hom. _Od._ XXIV. 1. - -[1366] Virg. _Aen._ IV. 242 ff. - -[1367] See above, pp. 96 ff. and pp. 134 ff. - -[1368] Paus. VIII. 2. 5. - -[1369] Paus. _ibid._ § 4. - -[1370] Passow, _Pop. Carm._ no. 364. - -[1371] Passow, _Pop. Carm._ no. 374. - -[1372] The word χαρὰ, (‘joy’), as I have pointed out elsewhere, is -indeed often used technically of marriage. - -[1373] Passow, _Pop. Carm._ no. 38 (ll. 13-18) and also nos. 65, 152, -180. - -[1374] See above, pp. 255 ff. - -[1375] Abbott, _Macedon. Folklore_, p. 255. - -[1376] Passow, _Pop. Carm._ no. 370. The phrase κάνει χαρὰ, which I -have inadequately rendered as ‘maketh glad,’ is technically used of -marriage. See above, p. 127. - -[1377] For authorities see Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ I. pp. 76 ff. - -[1378] Soph. _Antig._ 574-5. I do not know how much stress may be laid -on the repetition of the pronoun ὅδε in these two lines (viz. στερήσεις -τῆσδε and τούσδε τοὺς γάμους); but the lines follow closely on that -in which Creon bids Ismene speak no more of Antigone as ἥδε, and an -ironical stress might well be laid by Creon on the word τούσδε as he -uses it, which would suggest to his audience its antithesis τοὺς ἐκεὶ -γάμους. - -[1379] Soph. _Antig._ 804-5. - -[1380] _ibid._ 810-16. - -[1381] _ibid._ 891-2. - -[1382] _ibid._ 1203-7. - -[1383] _ibid._ 1240-1. - -[1384] Pindar, _Fragm._ 139 (Bergk). - -[1385] Aesch. _Prom._ 940 ff. - -[1386] _Oneirocr._ II. 49. The word τέλη denotes here not merely a -‘rite,’ but a ‘consummation’ by which a man becomes τέλειος. See below, -p. 591. - -[1387] _ibid._ I. 80. To translate the passage more fully is not -convenient; I append the original: θεῷ δὲ ἢ θεᾷ μιγῆναι ἢ ὑπὸ θεοῦ -περανθῆναι νοσοῦντι μὲν θάνατον σημαίνει· τότε γὰρ ἡ ψυχὴ τὰς τῶν θεῶν -συνόδους τε καὶ μίξεις μαντεύεται, ὅταν ἐγγὺς ᾖ τοῦ καταλιπεῖν τὸ σῶμα -ᾧ ἐνοικεῖ. - -[1388] _ibid._ II. 65. - -[1389] _Oneirocr._ II. 49. - -[1390] The majority of the references to ancient usage given below are -borrowed from Becker’s _Charicles_. - -[1391] Thuc. II. 15. - -[1392] Eur. _Phoen._ 347. - -[1393] Aeschines, _Epist._ X. p. 680. - -[1394] Cf. Pollux, III. 43. - -[1395] Soph. _Antig._ 901. - -[1396] _De Luctu_, 11. - -[1397] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 193. - -[1398] For a discussion of this point see Becker, _Charicles_ pp. 483-4. - -[1399] Harpocrat. s.v. λουτροφόρος. ἔθος δὲ ἦν καὶ τοῖς ἀγάμοις -ἀποθανοῦσι λουτροφορεῖν, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸ μνῆμα ἐφίστασθαι. τοῦτο δὲ ἦν παῖς -ὑδρίαν ἔχων. The same words are repeated by Photius and Suidas. With -ἐφίστασθαι it appears necessary to supply λουτροφόρον. Cf. Pollux VIII. -66 τῶν δ’ ἀγάμων λουτροφόρος τῷ μνήματι ἐφίστατο, κόρη ἀγγεῖον ἔχουσα -ὑδροφόρον.... For other references see Becker, _Charicles_ p. 484. This -information, as regards the emblem used, is held to be incorrect. The -λουτροφόρος was not a boy bearing a pitcher, but the pitcher itself. -See Frazer, _Pausanias_, vol. V. p. 388. - -[1400] For this view see Frazer, _Pausanias_, vol. V. p. 389. ‘It may -be suggested that originally the custom of placing a water-pitcher on -the grave of unmarried persons ... may have been meant to help them to -obtain in another world the happiness they had missed in this. In fact -it may have been part of a ceremony designed to provide the dead maiden -or bachelor with a spouse in the spirit land. Such ceremonies have -been observed in various parts of the world by peoples, who, like the -Greeks, esteemed it a great misfortune to die unmarried.’ - -[1401] _Plut._ 529. - -[1402] Cf. Lucian, _de Luctu_ 11. - -[1403] For a discussion of the point in relation to funerals see -Becker, _Charicles_ pp. 385 f. and in relation to marriage pp. 486 f. - -[1404] Lucian, _de Luctu_ 11. - -[1405] I. 6. - -[1406] Cf. Passow, _Popul. Carm. Graec. Recent._ no. 415, and -Tournefort, _Voyage du Levant_, I. p. 153, who describes a dead woman, -whose funeral he witnessed, as ‘parée à la Gréque de ses habits de -nôces.’ - -[1407] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ 378. - -[1408] _Charicles_ p. 487. - -[1409] Lucian, _de Luctu_ 11. Aristoph. _Lysist._ 602 etc. - -[1410] The influence of the Church was against the use of garlands in -early times and perhaps suppressed it in some districts. Cf. Minucius, -p. 109 ‘Nec mortuos coronamus. Ergo vos (the heathen) in hoc magis -miror, quemadmodum tribuatis exanimi aut [non] sentienti facem aut -non sentienti coronam: cum et beatus non egeat, et miser non gaudeat -floribus.’ The first _non_ is clearly to be deleted. - -[1411] Cf. Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 193. - -[1412] Cf. _ibid._ p. 197. - -[1413] Hom. _Hymn. in Demet._ 372 ff. Hence the pomegranate was treated -as ‘an accursed thing’ in the worship of Demeter at Lycosura, Paus. -VIII. 37. 7. - -[1414] Paus. II. 17. 4. - -[1415] See above, p. 548. - -[1416] See above, p. 80. - -[1417] The following references are in the main taken from Lobeck, -_Aglaophamus_. - -[1418] Soph. _Fragm._ 719 (Dind.). - -[1419] Hom. _Hymn. ad Cer._ 480 ff. - -[1420] Pind. _Fragm._ 137 (Bergk). - -[1421] Id. _Fragm._ 129. See above, p. 518. - -[1422] Aristoph. _Ranae_ 440-459. - -[1423] Isocr. _Paneg._ p. 46. - -[1424] _Aglaoph._ I. p. 70. - -[1425] περὶ εἰρήνης, p. 166. - -[1426] Aristid. _Eleusin._ 259 (454). - -[1427] Julian. _Or._ VII. 238. The same story in similar words recurs -in Diog. Laert. VI. 39 and Plut. _de Aud. Poet._ II. p. 21 F. - -[1428] Crinagoras, _Ep._ XXX. - -[1429] Cic. _de Leg._ II. § 36. - -[1430] _Mathem._ I. p. 18, ed. Buller. - -[1431] _Aglaoph._ I. pp. 39 f. - -[1432] See Lobeck, _Aglaoph._ I. pp. 6 ff. - -[1433] Diodorus, v. 77. Cf. Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of -Greek Religion_, p. 567. - -[1434] For references on this point, see Lobeck, _Aglaophamus_, I. 14 -ff. - -[1435] For the evidence that the Achaeans adopted the language of the -Pelasgians, and not _vice versâ_, see Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, -vol. I. p. 631 ff. - -[1436] _Protrept._ § 55. - -[1437] Hom. _Il._ I. 221 f. - -[1438] Euseb. _Demonstr. Evang._ V. 1, 268 E. - -[1439] _Praep. Evang._ XV. 1, 788 C. - -[1440] Προτρεπτ. § 61. - -[1441] Synes. _de Prov._ II. 124 B. - -[1442] Cf. Artemid. _Oneirocr._ Bk III. cap. 61. - -[1443] In Thera, as I myself witnessed, and until recently at Delphi. -Greeks with whom I have spoken of this custom have often seen or heard -of it somewhere. - -[1444] I regret that my notes contain no mention of my informant’s -name. I must apologise to him for the omission. - -[1445] Asterius, _Encom. in SS. Martyr._ in Migne, _Patrolog. -Graeco-Lat._ vol. XL. p. 324. - -[1446] _Adv. Valentin._ cap. I. - -[1447] Eusebius, _Hist. Eccles._ IV. 11. Cf. Sainte-Croix, _Recherches -sur les Mystères_, 2nd ed., I. p. 366. - -[1448] _loc. cit._ - -[1449] [Origen] _Philosophumena_, p. 115 (ed. Miller), p. 170 (ed. -Cruice). Cf. Miss J. Harrison, _Proleg. to Study of Gk Relig._ p. 549. - -[1450] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ II. 18. - -[1451] Dieterich, _Eine Mithras-Liturgie_, p. 125, cited by Miss J. -Harrison, _Proleg. to Study of Gk Relig._ p. 155, note 3. - -[1452] Hesiod, _Theog._ 970 f. Cf. Hom. _Od._ V. 125. - -[1453] Theocr. _Id._ III. 49 ff. (A. Lang’s translation). - -[1454] Plutarch, _de fac. in orb. lun._ 28, cited by Miss Harrison, -_Proleg. to Study of Gk Relig._ p. 267. - -[1455] See above, pp. 91 f. and 96 ff. - -[1456] Theocr. _Id._ III. 46 ff. - -[1457] _Protrept._ § 14. - -[1458] Theocr. _Id._ XV. 86. - -[1459] _Orph. Hymn._ LVI.; Bion, _Id._ I. 5. 54; Lucian, _Dial. deor._ -XI. 1; Macrob. _Saturn._ I. 21; Procop. _in Esai._ XVIII. p. 258. Cf. -Lenormant, _Monogr. de la voie sacrée éleusin._, where many other -references are given. - -[1460] Dem. Κατὰ Νεαίρας, pp. 1369-1371 _et passim_. Cf. Arist. Ἀθην. -Πολ. 3. - -[1461] _Etymol. Mag._ 227. 36. - -[1462] Hesych. s.v. γεραραί. - -[1463] See above, pp. 339 ff. - -[1464] Plutarch, _de defectu orac._ cap. 14 (p. 417). - -[1465] See above, p. 139. - -[1466] Not so, however, to Artemidorus. Cf. _Oneirocr._ I. 80. - -[1467] _Protrept._ § 34. - -[1468] _l. c._ - -[1469] _Protrept._ § 16. - -[1470] Theophr. _Char._ 28 (ed. Jebb). - -[1471] _l. c._ - -[1472] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ II. 15. - -[1473] The cymbal certainly belonged to Demeter also (see Miss -Harrison, _op. cit._ p. 562) but not, I think, the kettle-drum. - -[1474] Psellus (_Quaenam sunt Graecorum opiniones de daemonibus_, 3, -ed. Migne) refers the formulary to the rites of Demeter and Kore. But -I cannot agree with Miss J. Harrison (_Prolegomena to the Study of -Greek Religion_, p. 569) as to the importance of Psellus’ testimony -in any respect. He appears to me to give no more than a _résumé_ of -information derived from Clement’s _Protreptica_, misunderstood and -even more confused. - -[1475] Paus. II. 17. 3. - -[1476] Miss J. Harrison, _op. cit._ p. 536, commenting on -_Philosophumena_, ed. Cruice, v. 3. - -[1477] A title under which both Zeus and Hermes were known; see -Aristoph. _Pax_, 42, and Schol. _ibid._ 649. - -[1478] Clem. Alex. _Protrept._ § 54. - -[1479] Athen. VI. p. 253 A. Shortly afterwards he quotes a song (253 -D) in which it is the name of Demeter which is coupled with that of -Demetrius. - -[1480] Athen. VI. 253 A, and 261 B. - -[1481] Glycon was Alexander’s new god, a re-incarnation of Asclepius, -born in the form of a snake out of an egg discovered by Alexander. - -[1482] A superstitious old Roman entrapped by Alexander. - -[1483] Lucian, _Alexander seu Pseudomantis_, cap. 38-39 (II. 244 ff.). - -[1484] See Miss J. Harrison, _op. cit._ pp. 549 ff. - -[1485] Paton, _Inscr. of Cos_, 386, cited by Rouse, _Greek Votive -Offerings_, p. 246. - -[1486] Plutarch, _Conjug. Praec. ad init._ - -[1487] Schol. _ad Soph. Antig._ 1241. - -[1488] Photius, _Lex. Rhet._ Vol. II. p. 670 (ed. Porson), cited by -Farnell, _Cults of the Greek States_, I. p. 245. - -[1489] For the chief references, see Farnell, _loc. cit._ - -[1490] Farnell, _op. cit._ p. 191. - -[1491] Diod. Sic. V. 73; Pollux III. 38. Cf. Farnell, _op. cit._ p. 246. - -[1492] Pollux, _l. c._ ταύτῃ (τῇ Ἤρᾳ) τοῖς προτελείοις προὐτέλουν τὰς -κόρας. - -[1493] Cf. Plutarch, _Amator. Narrat._ 1, where the girls of Haliartus -are said to have bathed themselves in the spring Cissoessa immediately -before making the sacrifices just mentioned, and evidently as part of -the same ritual. - -[1494] [Aeschines] _Epist._ 10, p. 680. - -[1495] Chariton IV. 4. - -[1496] _Gorgias_, p. 493 B. - -[1497] Frazer, _ad Pausan._ X. 31. 9 (vol. V. p. 389). - -[1498] I cannot pretend to have gone into the whole literature of the -subject, but I find no reference to this passage either in Dr Frazer’s -_Pausanias_, _l. c._, or in Miss Harrison’s _Proleg. to Study of Gk -Relig._ pp. 614 ff., where the same topic is fully discussed. - -[1499] Lucian, _Dial. Marin._ 6. 3. - -[1500] Eustath. _ad Hom. Il._ XXIII. 141. - -[1501] _Anthol. Pal._ VII. 507. - -[1502] For other examples see Lenormant, _Monographie de la voie sacrée -éleusinienne_, pp. 50 f., where also the above example is quoted. - -[1503] Auson. _Epitaph._ no. 33. - -[1504] _Prolegomena to Study of Gk Religion_, pp. 573 ff. - -[1505] _op. cit._ p. 586; Kaibel, _C.I.G.I.S._, 641. - -[1506] See above, p. 586. - -[1507] See above, p. 586. - -[1508] See above, p. 589. - -[1509] I am forced by these considerations to dissent from Miss -Harrison’s view as expressed _op. cit._ p. 594, ‘Here the symbolism -seems to be of birth rather than of marriage,’ and again ‘this rite of -birth or adoption ...’: and indeed this view seems hardly to tally with -that which she suggests later (p. 600), “Burial itself may well have -been to them (the Pythagoreans) as to Antigone a mystic marriage: ‘I -have sunk beneath the bosom of Despoina, Queen of the Underworld.’” - -[1510] Furtwängler, _Die Idee des Todes_, p. 293. - -[1511] See above, p. 585. - -[1512] Plutarch, _Sympos._ IV. 5. 3. - -[1513] Aristoph. _Aves_, 1737. - -[1514] Cf. Schol. _ad Aristoph._ _l. c._ - -[1515] This, I am aware, is not an unique case. Plato applies the same -epithet to the gods as a whole, but above all to Eros, clearly, I -think, with something of the same significance. See Plato, _Sympos._ § -21, p. 195 A. - -[1516] Cf. Theo Smyrnaeus, _Math._ I. 18; Aristid. _Eleusin._ p. 415; -Plato, _Phaedrus_, p. 48. - -[1517] Lenormant, _Monographie de la voie sacrée éleusinienne_, p. 54. - -[1518] _l. c._ - -[1519] For a long list of such monuments dealing with the story of -Persephone, see Clarac, _Musée de Sculpt. anc. at mod._--‘Bas-reliefs -Grecs et Romains,’ pp. 209-10. - -[1520] _Monographie de la voie sacrée éleusinienne_, p. 56. - -[1521] Aristoph. _Aves_, 1737. - -[1522] Soph. _Antig._ 787 ff. - -[1523] Pind. _Nem._ VI. _init._ - -[1524] Plato, _Phaedo_, cap. 32, p. 82 B, C. - -[1525] See Geddes’ notes _ad loc._ - -[1526] For other evidence confirming this view, see Geddes’ notes _ad -loc._ - -[1527] Plutarch, _de defect. orac._ cap. 10, p. 415. - -[1528] Plato, _Symp._ § 7, p. 180. - -[1529] _ibid._ § 15, p. 188. - -[1530] _ibid._ § 19, p. 193. - - - - -GENERAL INDEX - - - Ablutions, at weddings and at funerals, 555 - - Aborigines, regarded as wizards, 248; - their relations with invaders, 244 - - Absolution, and dissolution, 401; - of the dead, 396 ff. - - Achaeans, religion of, 521 f. - - Adonis, story of, 582; - story of, how interpreted, 580; - as type of the initiated, 582 - - Aeschylus, popular beliefs utilised by, 437 ff., 459 f.; - religious sympathies of, 523 - - Aetolus, story of, 273 - - Agamemnon, as _revenant_, 438 - - Alastor, application of word, 465 ff.; - as proper name (in Homer), 473; - as term of abuse, 477; - derivation of word, 471; - development of meaning of word, 475 f.; - meaning of, 476; - original meaning of, 472 - - Alastores, 462 ff.; - not originally deities, 467 ff. - - Allatius, on _vrykolakes_, 364 ff. - - Amorgos, oracle of, 332 - - Amulets, 12-13, 21, 140 - - Amymone, story of, 593 - - Ancient language, attempted revival of, 30 - - Angels, exorcism of, 68; - good and bad, 288; - worship of, 42 - - Animals, unlucky species of, 307 - - Anointing, of the dead, 557 - - Anthropomorphic conception of God, 52 - - Antigone, as ‘bride of Acheron,’ 551 - - Antiphon, on blood-guilt, 443 - - Aphrodite, 117-120; - ‘eldest of the Fates,’ 120; - mystic rites of, 580 - - Apis, story of, 459 - - Apollonius of Tyana, 257 - - Apostasy, 409 - - Apple, symbolic usage of, 558 - - ‘Arabs’ (a class of demons), 211, 276 f.; - identified with _vrykolakes_ (q.v.), 277 - - Ariadne, story of, how represented on sepulchral monuments, 598 - - Aristomenes, 76 - - Arrogance of Greeks, 29 - - Art, in relation to religion, 1 - - Artemidorus, on death and marriage, 553 ff. - - Artemis, 163-171; - as huntress, 165; - as the Moon, 165; - bathing of, 164-5; - displaced by S. Artemidos, 44; - modern character of, 169; - offerings to, 170 - - Asclepius, in serpent-form, 274 f.; - re-incarnation of, in mock-mysteries, 589 - - Ass-centaurs, 235 and 237 f. - - Athene, and the owl, 207; - succeeded by Virgin Mary, 45 - - Athenians, religious sympathies of, 523 - - Attis, 586 - - Augury (_see_ Auspices) - - August, certain days sacred to Nymphs, 152 - - Auspices, 308 ff.; - affected by number, 313; - from any movement of birds, 311; - from cry of birds, 311; - from flight of birds, 311; - from posture of birds, 311; - modified by position of observer, 312 - - Avengers, dead persons as, 438 - - Avengers of Blood, ancient names for, 462 ff.; - their resemblance to modern _vrykolakes_, 458 - - Axe, double-headed, as religious symbol, 72 - - - ‘Baboutzicarios,’ 217 - - Bacchic rites, 38 - - Baptism, exorcisms at, 15; - neglect of, 409 - - Beast-dances, 224 ff. - - Bed-chambers, in temples, 587 - - Beehive tombs, original use of, 94 - - Bells, worn at popular festivals, 224 ff. - - ‘Binding’ and ‘loosing,’ 397 - - Binding-spells, 19; - means of loosing, 19 - - Birds, as messengers, in modern ballads, 316 f.; - as messengers of particular gods, 309; - colloquial application of word, 315; - in popular ballads, 315; - still acknowledged as messengers of heaven, 315; - which classes observed for auspices (q.v.), 308 f.; - why selected for divination, 308 - - Black-handled knife, as charm, 286 - - Blessing the waters, 197 - - Blood-guilt, ancient conception of, 451; - Attic law concerning, 443; - penalties for, 453; - Plato’s legislation concerning, 444 - - Blue beads, as amulets, 12 - - Body and soul, relation of, 361 ff., 526 ff.; - re-union of, 538 - - Bones of the dead, how treated after exhumation, 540 f. - - Boreas, 52 - - Breast-bone of fowl, divination from, 327 - - Bridal customs (_see_ Wedding, Marriage) - - ‘Bridge of Arta,’ The, 262 f. - - _Brumalia_ (in Greece), 221 - - Burial (_see also_ Cremation, Inhumation); - demanded by ghosts, 431; - lack of, 407 f., 427, 449; - lack of, as punishment, 457 - - Buzzing in ear, as omen, 329 - - - Callicantzari, 190-255; - afraid of fire, 202; - beast-like elements in, 203; - compared with Centaurs, 253; - demons or men?, 207-211; - description of, 191; - description of smaller species of, 193; - development of superstition concerning, 254; - dialectic forms of name, 211 ff.; - footgear of, 221; general habits of, 194; - how outwitted, 196-200; - identified with Centaurs, 235; - identified with were-wolves, 208; - offerings to, 201, 232; - originally anthropomorphic, 206; - origin of name, 211 ff.; - power of transformation possessed by, 204, 240; - precautions against, 200-202; - resembling Satyrs and Centaurs, 192; - sources of their features and attributes, 237 ff.; - stories concerning, 196-200; - their activity limited to Christmastide, 221; - their relation to Satyrs, etc., 229 ff.; - two main classes of, 191; - variously represented, 190; - whether demons or men originally, 209 ff.; - wives of, 200 - - Callicantzaros, The Great, 195 - - Callirrhoë, as sacred spring, 555 - - Candles, thrown into grave at funeral, 512 - - ‘Captain Thirteen,’ a folk-story, 75 - - Carnival, celebrations of, 224 ff. - - Cat, jumping over dead person, 410; - omens drawn from, 328 - - Caves, haunted by Nymphs, 160 - - Cenotaphs, 490 - - Centauros, son of Ixion, 242 - - Centaurs (_see_ Callicantzari), 190-255; - and Lapithae, 242; - as wizards, 248 f.; - compared with Callicantzari, 253; - general character of, 246; - Heracles’ fight with, 253; - how represented in Art, 247; - in Hesiod, 242; - in Homer, 243; - in Pindar, 241; - popular conception of, how affected by Art, 252; - Prof. Ridgeway’s view of, 244 ff.; - various species of, 235, 237; - whether human or divine in origin, 241 ff.; - why called ‘Beasts,’ 245 ff. - - Cephalus, 601 - - Cerberus, 97, 99 - - Character of modern Greeks, 28 ff. - - Charms, 286 - - Charon, 98-117; - addressed as ‘Saint,’ 53; - ancient literary presentation of, 106; - as ferryman, earliest mention of, 114; - brother to Uranos, 116; - identified with Death, 114 - - Charon’s obol, 108, 285; - as charm to prevent soul from re-entering body, 434; - custom of, how interpreted, 405 f. - - Charos, appearance of, 100; - as agent of God, 101-4; - as archer, 105; - as ferryman, 107; - as godfather, story of, 102; - as horseman, 105; - as pirate, 107-8; - as warrior, 105; - as wrestler, 104, 105; - Christianised character of, 101; - coin as fee for, 109; - functions of, 101; - household of, 99; - in connexion with Christianity, 101; - originally Pelasgian deity, 116; - pagan character of, 105 - - Charun, Etruscan god, 116 - - Child-birth, precautions against Nereids observed at, 140; - precautions at, 10-11 - - Children, conceived or born on Church-festivals, how afflicted, 408; - liable to lycanthropy, 208; - preyed upon by Gelloudes, 177; - preyed upon by Striges, 181; - stricken by Nereids, how treated, 145; - suspected of lycanthropy, how treated, 210 - - Chiron, 241 ff., 248; - as magician and prophet, 248 f. - - Cholera, personified, 22 - - Christ, accepted as new deity by pagans, 41 - - ‘Christian,’ popular usage of word, 66 - - Christianity, became polytheistic, 42; - and paganism, 36 - - Church, influenced by paganism, 572 f. - - Churching of women, 20 - - Clement of Alexandria, on the Mysteries, 570, 572; - on rites of Aphrodite, 581 - - Clytemnestra, ghost of, 474 - - Cock, as victim, 326 - - Cocks, superstitions concerning, 195 - - Coin, as charm, 111; - placed in mouth of dead persons, 108, 405; - placed in mouth of dead persons, various substitutes for, 112 - - ‘Comforting,’ feast of, 533 - - Common origin of gods and men, 65 - - Communion with gods, philosophers’ views of, 296 - - Conquering and conquered races, relations of, 244 - - Conservatism, religious, 95, 295, 337 - - ‘Constantine and Areté’ (ballad), 391 f. - - Continuity of Greek life and thought, 552 - - Convention, literary, 429 - - Corpse, re-animation of, 112 (_see_ Re-animation, Resuscitation) - - Corycian cave, 161 - - Courage of Greeks, 28 - - Cremation (_see also_ Funeral-rites), 485 ff.; - ceremonial, 496, 512; - ceremonial substitute for, 491; - Christian attitude towards, 501; - combined with inhumation, 494; - disuse of, 501 f.; - for disposing of _revenants_ in Ancient Greece, 416; - for disposing of _vrykolakes_, 411; - in theory preferable to inhumation, 488 f.; - in recent times, 503; - introduced by Achaeans, 491; - motives for, 502 f.; - preferred to inhumation, 500 f.; - revival of, 502; - serving same religious end as inhumation, 491 ff. - - Crockery broken at funerals, 520 - - Crow, 309; - exception to ordinary rules of divination, 310 - - Curses, 387 ff., 409; - diagnosed by their effects, 396; - executed by demonic agents, 448; - fixity of, 417; - in Euripides, 418; - in Sophocles, 419; - operation of, 447; - parental, 391 ff.; - revoking of, 388 f. - - Custom-dues, for passage of soul to other world, 285 - - Customs-officers, celestial, 284 - - Cybele, rites of, 586 - - - Daemons, Plutarch’s theory of, 583 f. - - Danaids, as types of unmarried women, 592 - - Dances, 34 - - Dead, messages to the, 345; - worship of the, 529 note 1 - - Dead persons, as messengers to the other world, 344 ff.; - what kinds of food presented to, 533 f. - - Deadly sins, 425 ff. - - Death, as penalty for bloodguilt, 455; - conceived as a form of marriage, by Sophocles, 549 ff.; - conceived as a form of marriage, in modern dirges, 546 ff.; - conceived as a wedding with Persephone, 595; - how personified in the _Alcestis_, 115; - in correlation with marriage, 553; - represented as a wedding on sepulchral monuments, 597 f.; - sudden or violent, 408, 427 - - Death-struggle, 288, 289; - how eased, 389 - - Decomposition (_see_ Dissolution) - - Degeneracy of mankind, 294 - - Deities, gregarious or solitary, 70; - non-Christian, how denoted, 67; - pagan, local names for, 69 - - ‘Delivering unto Satan,’ 406 - - Demeter (_see also_ Mysteries of Demeter), 79-98; - and Poseidon, modern story of, 86; - as corn-goddess, 562; - character of, 92; - Cretan legend of, 579; - displaced by S. Demetrius, 44; - dwelling-place of, 92; - evidence for identity of, 92; - her priestesses officiating at weddings, 590; - horse-headed, 87, 252; - in Homer, 522; - in modern story, 54; - modern functions of, 93; - modern titles of, 89; - modern worship of her statue, 80; - mysteries of (_see_ Mysteries); - represented by S. Demetrius, 79; - stories of her union with men, 579 f.; - story of, compared with story of Christ, 576; - where originally domiciled, 93-96 - - Demeter and Persephone, modern legend of, 80; - symbolism of myth concerning, 88; - unity of, 88 - - Demetrius Poliorcetes, story of, 587 - - Demons, exorcism of, 68 - - Despoina, 579; - marriage with, 596 - - Deucalion, 93 - - Devils, entering bodies of dead men, 416; - exorcism of, 68 - - Devil, responsible for resuscitation of dead persons, 402 - - ‘Diana,’ 164 - - Dionysus, and Prosymnus, story of, 585; - displaced by S. Dionysius, 43; - festivals of, 228-230; - identified with Adonis, 599; - identified with Hades, 585, 599; - in scenes on sepulchral monuments, 598 f.; - marriage of the ‘queen’ with, 583; - mystic rites of, 582 - - Dioscuri, 286 - - Dipylon-cemetery, excavations in, 494 - - Dirges, 347; - character of modern, 549; - examples of modern, 546 ff.; - purpose of, 519, 549 - - Diseases, caused by demons, 22 - - Dishonesty of Greeks, 31 - - Disintegration (_see_ Dissolution) - - Dissolution, and absolution, 401; - best secured by cremation, 502; - desire for, a feature of Pelasgian religion, 524; - distinguished from annihilation, 525, 538; - summary of ancient views concerning, 526; - time required for, 486 ff.; - why desired, 515 ff. - - Divination, at weddings, 326; - by chance words, 303 ff.; - by lot, 303; - by sacrifice, 264, 318; - ‘domestic,’ 327; - from birds (_see also_ Auspices), 308 ff.; - from breast-bone of fowl, 327; - from chance words, in antiquity, 305; - from demeanour of victim, 326; - from eggs, 331; - from involuntary movements of limbs, etc., 329; - from meetings on the road, 306; - from pig’s spleen, 325; - from sheep’s shoulder-blade, 321 ff.; - from sieves, 331; - from water, 332 f.; - methods of, compared, 298; - suggested divisions of, 298; - various branches of, 298 - - Dog howling at night, significance of, 328 - - Dogs, 32 - - Donkey, ill-omened, 307 - - Dragons, as guardians of buried treasure, 281; - in folk-story, 82; - popular conception of, 280; - story of, 281 f. - - Drama, primitive, 224-6; - restrictions of, 429; - rudiments of, 35 - - Dreams, 300 ff.; - deliberately induced, 303; - ecclesiastical use of, 301 - - Dress, at weddings and at funerals, 557 - - ‘Drumlike’ (as description of dead bodies) (_see_ τυμπανιαῖος), 370 - - Drunkenness, when permissible, 303, 533 - - Dryads, 151 - - - Eagle, 309 - - Easter, 575 f.; - celebration of, 572 ff. - - Ecstasy, in ancient religion, 37; - religious, 294 f., 576 - - Eleusinian mysteries (_see_ Mysteries of Demeter) - - Eleusis, excavations in cemetery at, 495 - - Empusa, 174, 175 - - Entrails, inspection of victim’s, 320, 325 - - Ephialtes, 21 (note 2) - - Epiphany, observance of, 197; - superstitions concerning, 221 - - Equality of men and gods, 604 - - Erinyes (_see_ Furies) - - Eros, 118-120 - - ‘Eternal drunkenness,’ 39 - - Ethical influence of Christianity, 39 - - Eudaemonia, as goddess, 602 - - Eumaeus, reception of Odysseus by, 32 - - Euphemistic names for deities, 69, 70 - - Euripides, popular form of imprecation utilised by, 418 - - Evil Eye, amulets against, 13; - animals affected by, 11-12; - cures for maladies caused by, 14; - effects of, 10; - inanimate things affected by, 12; - in Greece, 9-15; - means of averting, 14; - persons affected by, 11; - to whom attributed, 9-10; - widespread belief in, 8 - - Excommunication (_see also_ ‘binding’ _and_ ‘loosing’), 401; - causing non-dissolution, instances of, 398 ff.; - effects of, 386, 396 ff.; - origin of, 406; - pagan influence on doctrine of, 401 f. - - Execration (_see_ Curses, Imprecations) - - Exhumation, 540; - at end of three years, 487 - - Exile, as punishment of homicide, 445, 455 - - Exorcism, by witch, 14-15 - - - ‘Fair Lady of the Mountains,’ 166 - - Faith-cures, 60, 62 - - Fallmerayer, 25 - - Fasts, strictly observed, 574 - - Fate, 289 - - Fates, the, 120-130; - appearance of, 124; - at birth of Athena, 130; - character of, 125; - distribution of functions among, 127; - functions of, 124, 127; - inexorability of, 122; - invocations of, 122, 128; - number of, 124; - offerings to, 120, 121, 125; - prayer to, 123; - seen or heard, 125-6; - the lesser, 127-8; - visits of, 125; - wrath of, 126 - - Festival-dress, as heirloom from mother to daughter, 537 - - Festivals, popular, 34, 35; - survival of pagan, 221 ff. - - Fire, kept burning at grave-side, 507 ff.; - omens drawn from, 328 - - Fishing-net, as prophylactic, 21 - - Five, ominous number, 307 (note 1) - - Flood, modern traditions of the, 93 - - Folklore, antiquity of, 8; - as clue to ancient religion, 7; - laws of, 8 - - Folk-stories and ancient myths, relation of, 76 - - Foreign cults naturalised in Greece, 580 - - Forestry, superstitions relating to, 158 - - Fortieth day after death, customs and beliefs concerning, 486 ff. - - Foundation-stone, ceremonial of laying, 264 - - Funeral-customs, 345 ff., 496 ff.; - assimilated to marriage-customs, 560; - compared with marriage-customs, 554 ff.; - in relation to the Mysteries, 593 f. - - Funeral-feasts (_see also_ Memorial Feasts), 532 f. - - Funeral-meats, 533 f., 535 f. - - Funeral-rites, Christian and pagan contrasted, 501; - Homeric, 492; - in Dipylon-period, 494; - Mycenaean, 493; - purpose of, 485 ff.; - why necessary for due dissolution of body, 490 - - Funerals, Solon’s regulations concerning, 346 ff. - - Funeral-usage, summary of conclusions concerning, 513 f. - - Furies, as agents of Clytemnestra, 448; - as personified Curses, 448; - in Homer, 522; - origin of Aeschylus’ conception of, 460 f. - - Furtwängler, on death conceived as wedding, 597 - - Future life, Achaean conception of, 521 f.; - conceived in general as resembling life of gods, 525; - Homeric conception of, 516 ff.; - material character of, 524; - modern conceptions of, 518 f.; - Pindaric conception of, 518 - - - Garlands, at weddings and at funerals, 557 f. - - Garlic, as prophylactic, 140 - - ‘Garlic in your eyes,’ 14 - - Gello, 71; - by-names of, 179; - story of, 177 - - Gelloudes, 176-9, 211; - activities of, 179; - cure for injuries inflicted by, 179 - - Genii, 255-291; - confused with victims offered to them, 267, 271 ff., 276 f.; - definition of, 256; - how related to the place or object which they inhabit, 259; - in form of bulls, 261 f., 277; - in form of dragons, 262, 280; - in form of snakes, 258, 259, 272 f.; - in Homer, 269; - in human shape, 275; - mating with Lamiae, 276; - of air, 283 ff.; - of bridges, 262; - of buildings, 259-275; - of churches, 261; - of houses, 259; - of human beings, 287 ff.; - of mountains and caves, etc., 280 ff.; - of water, 275 ff.; - offerings to, 260, 274; - sacrifice to, 262 ff.; - sacrifice to, in Ancient Greece, 269 ff. - - Gennadius, story of, 399 - - Getae, human sacrifice among the, 350 - - Ghosts, asking for burial of body, 431; - conventionally substituted for _revenants_ in ancient literature, 429; - haunting neighbourhood of tombs, 430 f., 433; - in ancient literature, 427; - a modern Greek notions concerning, 428 - - Giants, story of, 73 - - Gifts to the dead, 493, 528 ff.; - how regarded by the Church, 531 f.; - in form of clothing, 536 f.; - in form of drink, 536; - in form of food, 533 ff.; - in modern Greece, 532; - in the classical-period, 530 f.; - in the Dipylon-period, 530; - in the Homeric Age, 529; - in the Mycenaean Age, 529; - motive for, 531, 537; - on what days presented, 530 f.; - until what date continued, 539 f. - - Goat-skins, worn at certain popular festivals, 223 ff. - - God, as controller of weather, in popular phrases, 51; - modern applications of word, 48 - - ‘God of Crete,’ 74 - - Godhead, ancient view of, 65; - attainable by men, 604 f. - - Gods, character of Greek, 526; - Greek conception of, 292 f. - - Good Friday, 572 ff., 574 f. - - Gorgons, 184-190; - and Scylla, 188; - appearance of, 184; - as deities of the sea, 188; - character of, 185; - compared with Sirens, 187; - depravity of, 185-6 - - Gorgon, meaning of the word, 186 - - Goshawk, 311 - - Guardian-angels, 288 - - Guardian-spirits, in ancient Greece, 290 - - - Hades, 97; - house of, how conceived by Homer, 517; - modern presentment of, 518, 549 - - Hair, as source of strength, 76; - cf. 83 - - Hare, unlucky to meet, 307 - - Hawks, 309 - - Headache, magical cure of, 22 - - Healing, miraculous, 60, 302 - - Hebrew religion, contrasted with Greek, 3 - - Helena, 286 - - Helios, displaced by S. Elias, 44 - - Hemlock, 578 - - Hera, as type of women, 591; - cults of, 591; - wedding of, 599 - - Heracles, 469 - - Hermes Agoraeus, oracle of, 305 - - Hermes, as escorter of the dead, 544; - succeeded by S. Michael, 45 - - Heroes, in form of serpents, 273 - - Heron, 309 - - Hesiodic Ages of mankind, 294 - - Hesperides, 282 - - Hiccough, as omen, 330 - - Hippolytus, oath of, 418 - - Holy Ghost, rarely named by peasants, 51 - - Holy Week, 572 ff. - - Homicide, Delphic tradition concerning, 444, 480; - Plato’s legislation concerning, 451 - - Honey-cakes, as diet of _genii_, 274 - - Honey, as food for the dead, 533; - chief offering to Nymphs, 150; - offered to the Fates, 121 - - Hospitality of Greeks, 31 - - Human sacrifice, 262 ff., 273, 276; - a modern conception of, 341 ff.; - as means of sending a wife to some god, 583; - long-continued in Ancient Greece, 343; - modern story of, 339, 436; - substitute for, 583 - - Humour, popular sense of, 69 - - Hylas, modern parallel to story of, 161 - - Hymenaeus, legend of, 552 - - - Iasion, as type of the initiated, 579 - - Icarus, 76 - - Icons, 301 - - Idolatry, popular inclination towards, 59 - - Image, magical treatment of, 16 - - Immorality of ancient deities, 39 - - Immortal fruit, 281 f.; - waters, 281 - - Immortality, doctrine of, 350 f. - - Imprecations (_see also_ Curses), 387 ff. - - Incantation, against whirlwinds, 150 - - Incorruptibility (_see also_ Vrykolakes), 384; - ancient imprecations of, 417 ff.; - Apollo’s threat of, 421; - as punishment of blood-guilt, 456; - ecclesiastical view concerning, 396 - - Inhumation (_see also_ Funeral-rites), 485 ff.; - ceremonial substitutes for, 489 f.; - combined with cremation, 494; - serving same religious end as cremation, 491 ff.; - the Pelasgian rite, 491 - - Initiated, future happiness of the, 563 f.; - hopes of the, 578 f. - - Ino, parallel to story of, 138 - - Insanity, popular view of, 299 - - Inspiration, 299 - - Interment (_see_ Inhumation) - - Intoxication, when permitted, 303, 533 - - Iphigenia, sacrifice of, 270 - - Iron, as prophylactic, 140 - - Islands of the Blest, 520 - - Itching of hand or foot, as omen, 330 - - Ixion, 242 - - - Kalándae (festival of the Kalends of January), 221 - - Ker, 289 f. - - Key laid on breast of corpse, 109, 112 - - Knife, black-handled, as charm, 20, 172 - - Kore (_see also_ Persephone); as representative of the initiated, 578; - story of, how represented on sepulchral monuments, 597 f. - - - Laceration of checks, etc., at funerals, 346 - - Lamentation, at funerals, 347 - - ‘Lame Demon,’ The, 195 - - Lamia, ancient conception of, 175; - of the Sea, 171; - responsible for water-spouts, 172 - - Lamiae, 174-6; - character of, 174; - mated with _genii_, 276 - - Lamp, in Prytaneum, 513; - ‘The Unsleeping,’ 508; - thrown into grave at funeral, 512; - why placed in graves, 505 f. - - Language, as evidence of tradition, 35 - - Law governing evolution of Greek folklore, 206 - - Leaven, damaged by Evil Eye, 12 - - Left hand, unlucky, 312 - - Left to right, lucky direction, 312 - - Lenormant, on death conceived as a wedding, 601 - - Leprosy, penalty for eating pig’s flesh, 87; - why named by Aeschylus among penalties of blood-guilt, 453 f. - - Lightning, as instrument of God’s vengeance, 73; - persons and objects struck by, 73 - - Literature, in relation to religion, 2 - - ‘Loosing,’ 397; - equivalent to both ‘absolution’ and ‘dissolution,’ 401 - - Love, as the bond of feeling between men and deities, 603; - in relation to the doctrine of the Mysteries, 606 - - Love-charms, 18 - - Lucian, on offerings to gods, 335 - - Lycaean Zeus, 352 - - Lycanthropy, 208, 239 f.; - in children, 380; - infants liable to, 183 - - Lying-in-state, 497 - - - Madness, 299; - among penalties of blood-guilt, 454 - - Magic, 15-25; - sympathetic, 16, 521 - - Maniotes, the, 441 - - Mankind, of same race as gods, 65, 604 - - Marriage and death, correlation of, 533 - - Marriage, arranged by Athenians between Athene and Demetrius - Poliorcetes, 587 f.; - as ‘initiation,’ 590; - association of the Mysteries with, 590 f.; - binding-spells to prevent consummation of, 19; - mimetic, as culminating point of Mysteries, 589; - mimetic, enacted in many cults, 577-587; - of men with deities, 545 ff.; - of men with deities, as a religious doctrine, 560 f.; - of men with deities, as mystic doctrine (summary), 602 f.; - the Sacred (ἱερὸς γάμος), 591 - - Marriage-customs, compared with funeral-customs, 554 ff.; - transferred to the funeral-rite, 560 - - Masks worn at popular festivals, 222 ff. - - Matrimonial prospects, divination concerning, 303 - - Meat, excluded from funeral-repasts, 532 - - Medea, 463, 468 - - Medicine, popular, 21 - - Megrim, cure of, 23 - - Memorial-feasts, 486 ff.; - dates of, 534; - real purpose of, 534 f.; - significance of the dates of, 539 - - Men elevated to rank of daemons, 211 - - Messages to the dead, 344 ff. - - Metamorphosis (_see_ Transformation) - - Metempsychosis, Plato’s theory of, 604 f. - - Miastor, application of word, 463 f.; - meaning of, 477 ff.; - original meaning of word, 465 - - Miastores, 462 ff. - - Midday, dangers of, 79 - - Miracles, expected by common-folk, 59; - genuine, 60; - sham, 60 - - Mirrors, superstition concerning, 10 - - ‘Mistress, The,’ 89; - marriage of, 97 - - ‘Mistress of the Earth and of the Sea,’ 54, 91, 579 - - Monotheism, compared with polytheism, 40; - no popular tendency towards, 3 - - Morality, little connected with ancient religion, 37 - - Mormo, 175 - - Mountain-nymphs, 148 - - Mourners, conduct of, 347; - professional, 347 - - Mouse, omens drawn from, 328 - - Mouth, as exit of soul, 111 - - Mummers, at Christmastime and at Carnival, 223 ff.; - representing Callicantzari, 227 - - Mumming, a survival of Dionysiac festivals, 229 ff. - - Murder of kinsman, 425; - legal punishment for, 457 - - Murdered men as avengers (_see_ Avengers, _Revenants_) - - Murdered persons, avenging their own wrongs, 437 ff.; - bodily activity of, 438; - future lot of, 434 f.; - mutilation of, 435; - personal activity of, 440 ff.; - returning in bodily form, 438 - - Murderers, future punishment of, 434 ff.; - penalties incurred by, 453 ff. - - Mutilation of murdered persons, 435 - - Mysteries, alleged impurity of, 569 f.; - allusions to, in Tragedy, 550; - associated with funerals, 594 f.; - associated with wedding-rites, 590 f.; - benefits secured by participation in, 38; - Christian attitude towards, 569; - containing no doctrine alien to popular religion, 567; - grades of initiation in, 566; - main doctrines of the, 569; - openly performed in Crete, 568; - of Aphrodite, 581 f.; - of Cybele, 586; - of Demeter, (_see below_ Mysteries of Demeter); - of Dionysus, 582; - parodied by the false prophet Alexander, 588 f.; - Sabazian, 585; - summary of doctrines taught by, 589 f.; - summary of argument concerning, 602 f.; - their doctrines kept secret, 567; - their promises summarised by Theo Smyrnaeus, 566 - - Mysteries of Demeter, Achaeans excluded from, 567 f.; - ancient references to, 563 f.; - Christian attitude towards, 578; - compared with modern celebration of Holy Week and Easter, 572 ff.; - dramatic nature of, 577; - their effect on spectators, 576; - held in great veneration, 562 f.; - how understood by participants, 578 f.; - Pelasgian in origin, 567; - safeguards of morality in, 577 f.; - specific charge of impurity against, 577; - test of linguistic purity imposed at Eleusis, 568; - their kinship with Christian beliefs, 576; - their promises based on ideas of popular religion, 565; - their promises summarised, 565 - - - Naiads, 159 - - ‘Nailing,’ magical rite, 17 - - Nationality, 27 - - Nereids (_see also_ Nymphs, Sea-nymphs, Mountain-nymphs, Tree-nymphs, -and Water-nymphs), 130 ff.; - animals susceptible to influence of, 135; - appearances of, 131; - bride-like appearance of, 133; - by-names of, 132; - called ‘she-devils,’ 149; - children carried off by, 150; - confusion of different species, 153; - consorts of, 149; - cruelty of, 139; - cures for mischief done by, 145; - depart at cock-crow, 137; - description of, 132-4; - domestic accomplishments of, 133; - dress of, 133; - famed for skill in spinning, 134; - festival of, 153; - forms of name, 130 (note 3); - general precautions against, 144; - in old signification, 146; - inconstancy of, 135, 138; - longevity of, 156; - magical kerchief of, 136; - male, 149; - means of protection against, 140; - not immortal, 156; - offerings to, 140, 150; - responsible for whirlwinds, 150; - ‘seizure’ by, 142; - story of wedding-procession of, 149; - supernatural qualities in dress of, 136; - theft of children by, 141; - their love of children, 140; - their marriage with men, 134; - their relations with men, 134-9; - their relations with women, 139; - transformation of, 137; - widespread belief in, 131; - with feet of goat or ass, 133 - - Nether world (_see_ Under-world) - - _Nomocanon de excommunicatis_, 397 - - _Nomocanon_ concerning _vrykolakes_, 365, 402 f. - - Non-dissolution (_see also_ Vrykolakes), 366; - ancient imprecations of, 417 ff. - - Numbers, lucky and unlucky, 313 - - Nymphs (_see also_ Nereids), 130 ff.; - not immortal, 156; - punishment for violence done to, 584; - seizure by, 142 - - - Oedipus, curse pronounced by, 419 - - Offerings, how affected by Christianity, 337; - to Artemis, 170; - to Callicantzari, 201; - to _genii_, 274; - to gods, motive of, 335, 336 f.; - to Nereids, 140; - to Saints, 58, 337; - to the dead (_see_ Gifts), 493 - - Oil, spilling of, as omen, 328 - - Olive, foliage or wood used in funerals, 498 f. - - Olympus, as abode of the Fates, 128 - - Omens (_see_ Divination); - from dripping of water, 121 - - Oracle of Amorgos, 332 - - Oracles, 305, 331 ff. - - Orchestra, 35 - - Oreads, 148 - - Orestes, how spurred on to vengeance, 441 f.; - with what penalties threatened by Apollo, 421 - - Orithyia, 601 - - Orphics, 38 - - Orphic tablets, 595 f. - - Owl-faced Athene, 207 - - Owls, 309, 310, 311 - - ‘Ox-headed man,’ The, (popular story), 278 - - - Pagan customs, inveteracy of, 46; - deities, how denoted, 67 - - Palmistry, 329 - - Pan, 77-9 - - Panagia, portraits of, 301 - - Paradise, popular conception of, 519 - - Parga, evacuation of, 503 - - Parthenon, Christian use of, 45; - figures in east pediment of, 130 - - Patriotism of Greeks, 28 - - Patroclus, funeral of, 348 f., 529 - - Patroclus’ ghost, 429; - why desirous of burial, 516 - - Pausanias, on human sacrifice, 353 - - Pedantry of Greeks, 30 - - Pelasgians, religion of, 522 f. - - Peleus (_see_ Thetis) - - Pentacle, 113, 406 - - _Perpería_, 24 - - Persephone (_see also_ Kore, Demeter); - ‘bridal-chamber’ of, 595 - - _Pharmakos_, 355 ff. - - Pheneos, Lake, 85 - - ‘_Pheres_,’ 243 - - Philinnion, story of, 413, 433 - - Phlegon, story of _revenant_ narrated by, 412 ff. - - Phlya, mystic rites at, 587 - - Physique of Modern Greeks, 26, 27 - - Pig’s flesh, taboo, 87; - spleen, used for divination, 325 - - Plague, personified, 22; - personified as trio of female demons, 124 - - Pollution, 425; - ancient conception of, 451; - of bloodguilt, 445 - - Polydorus, ghost of, 429 - - Polynices, doom of, 420 - - Polytheism, compared with monotheism, 40; - merits of, 292; - modern, 47, 48; - popular bent towards, 54 - - Pomegranate, symbolic usage of, 558 ff. - - Poseidon, 75-77; - as healer, 46 - - ‘Possession,’ by angels or devils, 68; - by devils, 144; - by the devil, as punishment, 406 - - Poultry, divination from, 312 - - Prayer, usually accompanied by offerings, 335 - - Predestination, 122 - - Priest, unlucky to meet, 306 - - Prometheus, legend of, 74 - - Prometheus’ prophecy of Zeus’ downfall, 552 - - Prytaneum of Athens, shape of, 96 - - Psellus, on divination, 321, 324 - - _Pulcra montium_, 167 - - Punishment after death, 419 ff. - - Purification, from bloodguilt, 451, 483; - means of, 357 - - Purity, confusion of physical and moral, 37 - - Pythagoras and Zalmoxis, 351 - - - ‘Queen of the Mountains,’ The, 163 - - ‘Queen of the Shore,’ The, 163 - - Quince, symbolic usage of, 558 f. - - - Rail (_ornith._), 309 - - Rain-charm, 23 - - Rain-making, 49 - - Ram, as victim, 326 - - Rat, unlucky to meet, 307 - - Raven, 309 - - Re-animation (_see also_ Resuscitation, _Vrykolakes_), 384; - of corpses left unburied, 449; - of dead body by the soul, 432 ff. - - Religion, Achaean and Pelasgian elements in, 522 f.; - character of Greek, 2, 294, 361 f., 545; - complexity of Greek, 4 - - Religious feeling, dominance of, 5-7; - literature, absence of, 2-5 - - Resuscitation (_see also_ Re-animation, _Vrykolakes_), 388; - of dead persons, how viewed by the Church, 402 ff.; - of dead persons, summary of Hellenic belief concerning, 434 - - Retribution, doctrine of future, 523; - exactitude of, 453 ff.; - law of, 435 - - _Revenants_ (_see also Vrykolakes_); - ancient names for, 462 ff.; - ancient Greek instances of, 412 ff.; - as Avengers of blood, 434 ff.; - as Avengers of blood, summary of ancient belief concerning, 461; - as Avengers of blood, their traits transferred to the Furies, 460; - called up by sorcerers, 404; - contrasted with ghosts, 427; - different species of, 384; - distinguished from ghosts, 416; - exacting their own vengeance, in ancient literature, 438; - Greek conception of, 394; - harmless type of, 394 f.; - Hellenic conception of, 412; - in ancient literature, 430, 438 f. - - Rhapsodes, 34 - - Richard, le Père, on _vrykolakes_, 367 - - Ridgeway, on cremation and inhumation, 491 - - Right hand, lucky, 312 - - ‘Riotings,’ The, 226 - - River-gods, 277, 280 - - Rohde, on cremation, 492 - - _rosalia_, 45 - - - Sabazian mysteries, 585 - - Sabazius, in form of snake, 586 - - Sacrifice (_see also_ Human Sacrifice), 335 ff.; - at launching of ship, 266; - at laying foundation-stone, 264; - at opening of quarry, 265; - at weddings, 326; - human, 262 ff.; - to _genii_, 276; - to _genii_, Slavonic influence upon, 268 - - Sacrifices, classification of, 338 - - Sacrificial omens, 319 - - Saints, functions of, 55; - functions suggested by names of, 56; - offerings made to, 58; - sometimes reputed immoral or malign, 56; - substituted for ancient gods, 43; - with titles denoting locality, function, etc., 55; - worship of, 42 - - S. Artemidos, cures children ‘struck by the Nereids,’ 44; - successor to Artemis, 44 - - ‘Saint Beautiful,’ 164 - - S. Catharine, 303 - - S. Demetra, at Eleusis, 80; - Eleusinian legend of, 80 - - S. Demetrius, successor to Demeter, 44 - - S. Dionysius, successor to Dionysus, 43 - - S. Elias, responsible for thunder, 52; - successor to Helios, 44 - - S. Elmo’s light, 286 - - S. George, displacing Theseus or Heracles, 45; - legend concerning, 261 - - ‘S. John of the Column,’ 58 - - S. John the Baptist, 37, 304 - - S. Luke, as painter, 301 - - S. Michael, successor to Hermes, 45 - - S. Nicolas, 340; - patron of sailors, 287; - superseding Poseidon, 75 - - Salt-cake, 303 - - Salt, dissolving of, as magical ceremony, 388 f. - - Satan, delivering persons unto, 406 - - _Saturnalia_ (in Greece), 221 - - Satyrs and Centaurs, closely related, 236 - - Satyr-dances, 229 - - Scylla, replaced by modern Gorgon, 188; - parentage of, 173 - - Scyros, faith-cure at, 62 - - Sea-nymphs, 146 - - ‘Seizure,’ by Nymphs, 142 - - Serpents, as incarnations of heroes, 274 - - Shadow, as _genius_, 289 - - Shadow-victims, 265 - - ‘She-devils,’ Nereids so called, 149 - - Sheep-dogs, 32 - - Shooting-stars, 286 - - Shoulder-blade of sheep, used for divination, 321 ff. - - Sieve, employed to detain Callicantzari, 196-7 - - Sieves, divination from, 331 - - Sileni, 230 - - _Silicernium_, 535 - - Sins, deadly, 409 f., 425 ff. - - Sirens, 187 - - Slavonic immigrations, 26; - influence on belief in vampires, 376 ff. - - Sleep and Death, 543 - - Sleeping in churches, 61 - - Small-pox, personified, 22 - - Snake, as _genius_ of Acropolis, 260; - auspicious in house, 328; - bearded, 274; - unlucky to meet on road, 307 - - Snakes, as manifestations of deities, 275 - - Snake-form, assumed by _genii_ (_see_ Genii) - - Sneezing, as omen, 330 - - Socrates’ familiar spirit, 291 - - Sophocles, popular form of imprecation utilised by, 419 - - Sorcery, punishment of, 409 - - Sosipolis, story of, 272 - - Souls (_see_ Ghosts) - - Soul and body, relations of, 361 ff., 526 ff.; - re-union of, 538 - - Soul-cult, Rohde’s theory of, 529, note 1 - - Soul, emancipation of, 515 f.; - Homeric conception of, 517 f.; - Socrates’ teaching concerning, 516 - - Spitting, to avert malign influences, 14, 307 - - Stars, baneful influence of, 10, 11 - - Stoat, unlucky to meet, 307 - - Striges, 179-184, 211; - Italian origin of, 180; - intercourse of devils with, 416; - precautions against, 181; - prey upon children, 181; - stories concerning, 182-3 - - Strigla, 282 - - Sucking-pig, as victim, 483 - - Suicides, 408 - - Sun, relics of worship of, 44 - - Surrogate Victims, 355 - - Swallow-song, 35 - - Sympathetic magic, 264 - - - Taboo, 87, 357 - - Taenarus, descent to Hades at, 45 - - Tartarus, 98 - - _Telonia_, 284; - local usages of name, 287 - - Temples, as treasuries, 96; - converted to churches, 45 - - Tenos, Church of Annunciation at, 45, 58; - faith-cures at, 60; - miraculous _icon_ of, 301 - - Thargelia, 356 - - ‘The Beautiful One of the Earth,’ 97 - - ‘The Great Lady,’ 163 - - ‘The Lady Beautiful,’ 163 - - ‘The Lamia of the Sea,’ 171 - - ‘The Lamia of the Shore,’ 171 - - ‘The Mistress,’ 89; - marriage of, 97 - - Theseum, Christian use of, 45 - - Theseus, 469 - - Thesmophoria, 87 - - Thetis, modern parallel to story of, 137 - - Thracians, funeral-rites of, 500 - - Thread of life, 124 - - Three, ominous number, 307 (note 1), 487 - - Thunderbolt, 72 - - Thunder-god, 50 - - Timothy, Bishop of Ephesus, martyrdom of, 222 - - Titans, story of, 73 - - Titles of saints, sources of, 55 - - Tolerance of pagans, 42 - - Torches, at funerals, 505 ff. - - Traditions, popular and literary, 432 - - Trance, 69 - - Transformation, magic power of, 86, 249; - power of, attributed to _genii_, 276; - power of, how indicated in Art, 251 - - Transmigration of souls, Plato’s theory of, 604 f. - - Treasure, guarded by dragons, 281 - - Treasury of Atreus, original use of, 94 - - Tree, supporting the world, 155 - - Tree-nymphs, 151; - confused with water-nymphs, 153; - woodcutters’ precautions against, 158 - - Trees, not to be cut or peeled on certain days in August, 152 - - Tuesday, unlucky day, 313 - - Tutelary _genii_, fed on honey-cakes, 274 - - ‘Twelve Days,’ The, 221 - - Twitching of eyebrow, as omen, 329 - - - Unburied (_see_ Burial, lack of) - - Under-world (_see also_ Future life); - Homeric conception of, 517 f.; - modern presentment of, 549 - - Uninitiated, future fate of the, 563 f., 592 - - Unmarried, funeral-rite of the, 556; - future fate of the, 592 - - ‘Unsleeping Lamp,’ The, 540 - - - Vampires (_see Vrykolakes_); - characteristics of Slavonic, 387; - modern Greek conception of, 363 ff.; - Slavonic treatment of, 410 f. - - Vampirism, causes of, 375, 407 ff.; - imprecations of, 387; - instances of, 367 ff.; - widespread belief in, 371 ff. - - Vendetta, 440 ff. - - Vengeance for blood-guilt, extended to whole communities, 459; - for homicide, Delphic tradition concerning, 444 ff. - - Vengeance for murder, effected by a curse, 446 f.; - effected by demonic agents, 448; - exacted by murdered person, 435 ff.; - incumbent on next-of-kin, 440; - legally incumbent on next-of-kin, 443 f.; - methods of, 453 ff. - - Vesta, temple of, 96 - - Victim, as messenger, 340 ff.; - elevated to rank of _genius_, 267 ff., 276 - - Vintage-festival, 35 - - Virgin, worship of the, 51 - - Virginity, consecrated to river-god, 592 - - Virility, affected by magical spell, 19 - - Visualisation, peasants’ powers of, 47 - - Votive offerings, character of, 58 - - Vows, 59 - - _Vrykolakas_, Greek equivalents for word, 381 f.; - how originally employed in Greek, 378; - occasionally used in sense of ‘were-wolf,’ 379 f.; - origin of word, 377; - original meaning of word, 377 f.; - Slavonic forms of word, 377 (note 2) - - _Vrykolakes_ (_see also_ Incorruptibility, Resuscitation, _Revenants_, - Vampires, Vampirism), 361 ff.; - attitude of authorities towards belief in, 371 f.; - belief in them not wholly Slavonic, 381; - capable of sexual commerce, 415 f.; - classes of persons liable to become, 375, 407 ff.; - close resemblance of ancient _revenants_ to, 458; - corporeal nature of, 376; - cremation of, substitutes for, 488; - ecclesiastical view of, 386, 396 ff.; - Greek treatment of, 410 f., 502; - Hellenic element in conception of, 407; - how disposed of, 371 f.; - lineage traced from, 416; - modern Greek conception of, 363 ff.; - _nomocanon_ concerning, 365, 402; - not to be confused with ghosts, 376; - occasional barbarities inflicted upon, 412; - original Greek type of, 391 ff.; - peculiar method of treating, 540; - recent cases of the burning of, 374; - recent Cretan account of, 372; - resuscitated by the Devil, 405 f.; - Slavonic influence upon conception of, 376 ff.; - stories of, 368 ff.; - widespread belief in, 371 ff., 374 - - Vultures, 309 - - - ‘Wanderers,’ 473 - - Washing, prohibited on certain days of August, 152 - - Water, immortal, 281; - miraculous, 60; - oracular property of, 334; - pouring out of, as magic rite, 520; - salt, bars passage of supernatural beings, 368 (note 1), 372; - ‘speechless,’ 304, 331; - spilling of, as omen, 328 - supplied daily to the dead, 539; - - ‘Water-bearer,’ the, 556, 592 f. - - Water-nymphs, 159; - confused with tree-nymphs, 153; - precautions against, 160 - - Water-pitcher (_see also_ Water-bearer), 594 - - Water-spout, caused by Lamia of the Sea, 52; - superstitions concerning, 172 - - Weasel, unlucky to meet, 307; - why unlucky to see, 327 - - Weather, chief province of God, 51 - - Wedding, ‘The Sacred,’ 599 f.; - in Hades, The, (ballad), 548 - - Wedding-customs (_see_ Marriage-customs) - - Wedding-dress, as funeral-garb of betrothed girls or young wives, 557 - - Weddings, precautions at, 13; - precautions against magic at, 20; - sacrifice and divination at, 326 - - Wedding-scenes on funeral-monuments, 597 f., 601 f. - - Were-wolves, 239; - and vampires, 377 f.; - become vampires after death, 385 - - Whirlwinds, caused by nymphs, 52, 150; - safeguard against, 150 - - Winds, personified, 52 - - Wine, passed from left to right, 312; - spilling of, as omen, 328 - - Winter festivals, 221 ff. - - Witch, as rain-maker in Santorini, 49 - - Witchcraft, male and female exponents of, 15, 16 - - Witches, 15 - - Woodpecker, 309 - - Wooing, how conducted, 558 - - Wren, 309 - - - Zalmoxis, 350 f. - - Zeus, 72-74; - Lycaean, 352; - Meilichios, 275; - Prostropaeus, 481; - survival of name, 74 - - - - -INDEX OF GREEK WORDS AND PHRASES - - - ἀγάπη, 603 - - ἀγγελικά, 68 - - ἀγγελοθωρεῖ, 288 - - ἀγγελοκρούσθηκε, 289 - - ἀγγελομαχεῖ, 289 - - ἀγγελοσκιάζεται, 289 - - ἀγγελοφορᾶται, 289 - - ἁγι̯ασμός, 197 - - ἀγιελοῦδες, 147, 176 - - ἅγος, 451 - - ἀδερφοί μας, οἱ, 70 - - ἀδερφοφᾶδες, 208 - - ἀερικά, 68, 283 - - Ἀκμονίδης, 116 - - ἀκοίμητο καντῆλι, τὸ, 508 - - ἀλαίνειν, 472, 474 - - ἀλάομαι, 474 - - ἀλάστωρ (_see_ Alastor), 462 f., 465 ff. - - ἀλαφροστοίχει̯ωτοι, 204, 288 - - ἀλιτήριοι, 482 - - Ἀλουστίναι, 155 - - ἄλυτος, 381, 397 - - ἀμπόδεμα, 19 - - ἀμφιθαλής, 600 - - ἀναικαθούμενος, 382 - - ἀναρᾳδοπαρμένος, 142 - - ἀνάρραχο, 381 - - ἀνασκελᾶδες, 205 (note 1) - - ἀνεμικαίς, 150 - - ἀνεμογαζοῦδες, 150 - - ἄνθρακες ὁ θησαυρός (proverb), 281 - - ἀπάντημα, 306 - - ἀπενιαυτεῖν, 445 - - ἀποικίζω (in Soph. _O. C._ 1383 ff.), 419 - - ἀπόρρητος, 569 - - Ἀράπηδες, 276 - - ἀραχνιασμένος, 518 - - ἄρρητος, 569 - - ἀστροπελέκι, 72 - - ἀσώματοι, οἱ, 144 - - Ἀφροδίτισσα, 118 - - - βάμπυρας, 378 - - βασίλιννα, 583 - - βασίλισσα τοῦ γιαλοῦ, ἡ, 163 - - βασίλισσα τῶν βουνῶν, ἡ, 163 - - βασκαίνω, 9 - - βασκανία, 9 - - βασκανισμοί, 14 - - βιστυρι̯ά, 9 (note 2) - - βόμπυρας, 378 - - βουρκόλακας, 364 - - Βραχνᾶς, 21 - - βρυκόλακας, 364 - - βρυκολακιάζω, 390 - - - Γελλοῦδες, 148, 177 - - γενέσια, 531 - - γεραραί, 583 - - γιαλοῦδες, 147, 176 - - Γιλλόβρωτα, 178 - - γλαυκῶπις, 207 - - Γοργόνες, 184 - - γραψίματα τῶν Μοιρῶν, 126 - - - δᾳδουχία, 566 - - δαίμονας τῆς θάλασσας, ὁ, 75 - - δαίμονες, 569 - - δαίμονες )( θεοί, 41 - - δαιμόνια, 68 - - δαιμόνιον μεσημβρινόν, 79 - - δὲν ξέρει τὰ τρία κακὰ τῆς Μοίρας του, 127 - - δένω, 397 - - δέσιμον, 19 - - δέσποινα, 90 - - δέω, 397 - - Δημητρεῖοι, 579 - - διαβόλισσαις, 149 - - δράκος, δράκοντας, 280 - - δράσαντι παθεῖν (proverb), 435 - - δρύμαις, 151 - - δρύματα, 151 - - - ἐγκοίμησις, 61 - - εἰδωλικά, 68 - - εἰρεσιώνη, 35 - - ἐλευθεροῦν, 424 - - ἐναγίσματα, 530, 531 - - ἔνατα, 531, 532 - - ἐνόδιοι σύμβολοι, 298 - - ἐξωπαρμένος, 143 - - ἐξωτικά, 143 - - ἐξωτικός, 67 - - ἑορτοπιάσματα, 208 - - ἐποπτεία, 566 - - ἐργασάμενος, 578 - - ἔρως, 603 - - Ἔρωτας, ὁ, 118 - - εὐδαίμων, 600 - - εὔμορφος, 439 - - εὐρώεις, 518 - - ἔχει ᾱπ’ ἔξω, 143 - - - ζαβέται, 146 - - ζούμπιρα, 69 - - ζωντόβολα, 69 - - - Θάνατος, personification of, 115 - - θεός, modern applications of word, 48 - - θεοφιλής, 566 - - θύειν, 335 - - θυσία, 335 - - θυσίαι, 530 - - - ἱερὸς γάμος, 591 - - ἱεροφαντία, 566 - - ἱπποκένταυροι, 235 - - - ἰσκιοπατήθηκε, 289 - - ἴσκιος, 289 - - ἴυγξ, 18 - - ἰχθυοκένταυροι, 235 - - - κάηδες, 208 - - καθαρεύειν τῇ φωνῇ, 568 - - καθάρματα, 355 - - καϊμπίλιδες, 209 - - κακανθρωπίσματα, 205 - - κακαουσκιαίς, 153 - - καλαὶς ἀρχόντισσαις, ᾑ, 132 - - καλαὶς κυρᾶδες, to whom applied, 171 - - Καλή, ἡ ἅγι̯α, 164 - - Καλὴ τῶν ὀρέων, ἡ, 166 - - καλι̯οντζῆδες, 215 - - καλιτσάγγαρος, 220 - - καλκαγάροι, 213 - - καλκάνια, 213 - - καλκατζόνια, 215 - - καλλικαντζαρίνα, 200 - - καλλικάντζαρος, derivation of, 232 ff.; - dialectic varieties of form of, 211 ff.; - proposed derivations of, 215 ff.; - table of dialectic forms of, 214 - - καλλικαντζαροῦ, 200 - - καλλικυρᾶδες, 132 - - Καλλισπούδηδες, 192 - - καλοί, οἱ, 70 - - καλοΐσκι̯ωτος, 289 - - καλοκυρᾶδες, ᾑ, 125, 132 - - καλορίζικοι, οἱ, 70 - - Κάλω, ἡ κυρά, 163 - - καμπουχέροι, 223, 227 - - κάνθαρος, 219 - - κανίσκια, 487 - - καντανικά, 69 - - κάντζαρος = κένταυρος, 233 - - κάρφωμα, 17 - - καταχανᾶδες (_see_ Vrykolakes), 372 - - καταχανᾶς, 382 - - καταχύσματα, 535 (note 4) - - κατζαρίδες, 219 - - κατσικᾶδες, 193 - - κατσιμπουχέροι, 223, 227 - - καψιούρηδες, 203 - - Κήρ, 289 - - κίρκος, 311 - - κλεηδόνιος (epithet of Hermes), 306 - - κλήδονας, ὁ, 304 - - κληδόνες, 298 - - κληδών, 304 - - κνώδαλα, 460 - - κοιμητήρια, 542 - - κόλλυβα, 487, 535 - - κόλπος, 596 - - κόλυμβος, 129 - - κόπηκε ἡ κλωστή του (proverbial), 124 - - κόρυμβος, 129 - - κοσκινομαντεία, 331 - - κουκουβάγια, 310, 311 - - κουρμπάνι̯α, 322 - - κουτσοδαίμονας, ὁ, 207 - - κρυερός, 518 - - κρυοπαγωμένος, 518 - - κυρά, ἡ μεγάλη, 163 - - κυρὰ τοῦ κόσμου, ἡ, 89 - - κυρὰ τσῆ γῆς καὶ τσῆ θαλάσσης, ἡ, 54, 91 - - κωλοβελόνηδες, 192 - - - λάμπασμα, λάμπαστρο, 381 - - λοιβαί, 530 - - λουτροφόρος, 556, 594 - - Λυκαῖος, 352 - - λυκάνθρωπος, 241, 384 - - λυκοκάντζαροι, 203, 215 - - λυκοκάντζαρος, 239 f. - - λυόνω, 397 - - λύω, 397 - - - μαζεύει γράμματα γιὰ τοὺς πεθαμμένους (proverb), 346 - - μαζώθηκε τὸ κουβάρι του (proverbial), 124 - - μακαρία, 532 - - μακαρίτης, 532 - - μακραίωνες, 156 - - μάνα τοῦ Ἔρωτα, ἡ, 118 - - μαντική, 298 - - μασχαλίζειν, 435 f., 442 - - μασχαλισμός, 359 - - μάτι, τὸ κακό, 9 - - μάτι̯αγμα, 9 - - ματιάζω, 9 - - μέγαρα, 94 - - μελιτοῦττα, 533 - - μήνιμα, 447, 449 - - μίασμα, 425, 451 - - μιάστωρ (_see_ Miastor), 462 ff. - - μνημόσυνα, 487, 534 - - Μοῖρα, 289 - - Μοῖραις, 120, 122, etc. - - Μόρα (or Μώρα), ἡ, 174 - - μυρολογήτριαις, μυρολογίστριαις, 347 - - μυρολόγια (_see_ Dirges) - - μύσος, 451 - - - νὰ φᾶς τὸ κεφάλι σου, 14 - - νεκύσια, 531 - - νεραϊδάλωνο, 148 - - Νεράϊδες, 130 - - Νεραΐδης, 149 - - νεραϊδογεννημένος, 134 - - νεραϊδογνέματα, 134 - - νεραϊδοκαμωμένος, 134 - - νοικοκύρης, 260 - - ντουπί, 370 - - νύμφη, 131 - - νυμφόληπτος, 142 - - νυφίτσα, 328 - - Νυχτοπαρωρίταις, 195 - - - ξαφνικά, 68 - - ξεραμμέναις, 160 - - ξεφτέρι, 317 (note 1) - - ξόανα, 226 - - ξόρκια, ξορκισμοί, 14 - - ξωτικά, 67, 207 - - - ὁ βρυκόλακας ἀρχίζει ἀπὸ τὰ γένειά του (proverb), 387 - - ὁ διὰ κόλπου θεός, 586 - - οἰκοσκοπικόν, 298, 327 - - οἰκουροί, 260 - - οἰωνός, 308 - - ὀνοκένταυροι, 235, 237 f. - - ὄρνις, 307 - - ὅτι γράφουν ᾑ Μοίραις, δὲν ξεγράφουν (proverbial saying), 122 - - - παγανά, 67, 207 - - παλαμναῖος, 448 - - παλμικόν, 298, 329 - - πανηγύρια, 34 - - παππαροῦνα, 24 - - παρηγορία, 533 - - παρμένος, 142 - - Παρωρίταις, 195 - - παστάς, 96, 587 - - παστός, 587 - - πεντάγραμμον, 113 - - πεντάλφα, 113 - - περατίκι, 109, 286 - - περίδειπνον, 531, 532 - - περπερία, 24 - - Πεταλώτης (title of S. George), 261 - - πιασμένος, 142 - - πίζηλα, 70 - - Πλανήταροι, 192, 204 - - πλάτωμα, 148 - - πρόθεσις, 497 - - προμνήστρια, 558 - - προξενήτρια, 558 - - προστρέπω, προστρέπομαι, 479 - - προστροπαῖος, 462 f., 479 ff. - - προτέλεια, 591 - - - Ῥἱζικάς, ὁ, 304 (note 3) - - ῥουκατζιάρια, 224, 226 - - ῥουσάλια, 45 - - - σαββατογεννημένοι, 288 - - σαραντάρια, σαρανταρίκια, 488 (notes 1 and 2) - - σαραντίζω, 20 - - σαρκωμένος, 382 - - σκαλλικάντζαρος (_see_ καλλικάντζαρος), 213 - - σκατζάρια, 215 - - σκατσάντσαροι, 215 - - σκηνή, 35 - - σκιορίσματα, 203, 205 - - σκόρδο ’στὰ μάτι̯α σου, 14 - - σμερδάκια, 69 - - σπλαγχνοσκοπία, 325 - - σπονδαί, 530 - - στοιχει̯ά (στοιχεῖα) (_see_ Genii); - comprehensive usage of, 69 - - στοιχεῖα, development of meaning of, 255 ff.; - τοῦ κόσμου, τὰ (St Paul), 255-6 - - στοιχειό, 548 - - στοιχειόνω, 267 - - στοιχειοῦν, 256 - - στοιχειωματικός, 256 - - στοιχειωμένος, 258, 382 - - στρίγγαι, 144 - - στρίγλαις (στρίγγλαις, στρῦγγαι), 180-1 - - στριγλοποῦλι, 180 - - συρτός, 34 - - σφάζειν, 336 - - σφανταχτά, 68 - - σώθηκε ἡ κλωστή του (proverbial), 124 - - - ταράματα, τά, 226 - - ταριχευθέντα (Aesch. _Choeph._ 288), 421, 456 - - τέλειοι, 591 - - τελεύμεναι, αἱ, 590 - - τέλη, 553 - - τελώνια, comprehensive usage of, 69 - - τελωνιακά, 286 - - τῆς Λάμιας τὰ σαρώματα (proverb), 174 - - τόπακας, 260 - - τριακάδες, 531 - - τρίτα, 530, 532 - - τροῦπαις τοῦ διαβόλου, ᾑ, 85 - - τσίκρος, 311 - - τσιλικρωτά, 192 - - τσίνια, 68 - - τυμπανιαῖος, 365, 370, 381, 385 f., 400 - - τυμπανίτης (_see also_ τυμπανιαῖος), 400 - - Τύχη, 289 - - - ὑδροφορεῖν, 593 - - - Φανιστής, ὁ, 304 (note 3) - - φαντάσματα, 68 - - φαρμακός, ὁ, 355 - - φάσκελον, τὸ, 14 - - φάσματα, 68 - - Φῆρες, 245, 250 - - - χαμοδράκι, 281 (note 2) - - χαροποῦλι, 310 - - Χάροντας, 97 - - Χάρος, 97 - - χαρούμενοι, οἱ, 70 - - Χαρώνειος, 114 - - Χαρωνῖται, 114 - - χειροσκοπικόν, 298 - - χελιδόνιον, meaning of, 161 (note 2) - - χελιδόνισμα, 35 - - χοαί, 530 - - - ψυχόπηττα, 534 - - - ὠμοπλατοσκοπία, 321 - - ὠοσκοπικά, 331 - - ὥρα τὸν ηὗρε, 143 - - -CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY JOHN CLAY, M.A. AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - -The following apparent errors have been corrected: - -p. 58 "sanctuary in person" changed to "sanctuary in person." - -p. 60 (note) footnote number inserted - -p. 85 (note) "Conon, _Narrat._ 15" changed to "Conon, _Narrat._ 15." - -p. 99 (note) footnote number inserted - -p. 105 (note) "'sorrowful." changed to "'sorrowful.'" - -p. 148 "Μέλετη κ.τ.λ." changed to "Μελέτη κ.τ.λ." - -p. 151 "the honeyed ones[365].’" changed to "'the honeyed ones[365].’" - -p. 360 "guarding and tending of Love’" changed to "guarding and tending -of Love.’" - -p. 476 (note) "cap. 15 (p. 418)" changed to "cap. 15 (p. 418)." - -p. 608 "smaller species of 193" changed to "smaller species of, 193" - -p. 609 "time required for" entry placed in alphabetical order - -p. 616 "supplied daily to the dead" entry placed in alphabetical order - -Inconsistent or archaic spelling, hyphenation and punctuation have -otherwise been kept as printed. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN GREEK FOLKLORE AND ANCIENT -GREEK RELIGION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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