Psyche: The Cult of Souls and Belief in Immortality among the Greeks

by Erwin Rohde

§ 6

The atomist doctrine renewed by Epicurus demanded in the most emphatic manner of its adherents that they should abandon the belief in personal survival.

For the atomist the soul is corporeal, a compound made [505] up of the most mobile of the atoms which form the plastic elements of air and fire. It occupies all parts of the body, and is held together by the body, while at the same time, and in spite of this, holding itself in essential distinctness from the body.[72] Epicurus also speaks of the “Soul” as a special and enduring substance within the body, a “part” of the corporeal, not a mere “harmony” resulting from the association of the parts of the body.[73] He even speaks of two parts or modes of manifestation in the “soul”; the irrational, which holds the whole body in its sway as its vital force, and the rational, situated in the breast, which exercises will and intelligence and is the last and most essential source of life in living things, without the undivided presence of which death occurs.[74] Anima and animus (as Lucretius calls them), distinct but not separable from one another,[75] come into being in the embryo of man and grow to maturity, old age and decay, together with the body.[76] If death occurs it means that the atoms belonging to the body are separated and the soul-atoms withdrawn—even before the final dissolution of the body, the separable “soul” disappears. No longer held together by the body, it is blown away in the wind, it disappears “like smoke” in the air.[77] The soul, this soul that had animated the individual man, is no more.[78] The material elements of which it was composed are indestructible; it is quite possible that they may at some future time combine together with the life-stuff to produce new life and consciousness of exactly the same kind as had once been joined together in the living man. But, if so, it will be a new creature that thus comes into being: the original man has been annihilated by death; there is no bond of continuous consciousness uniting him with the fresh creation.[79] The vital forces of the world are continuous, undiminished, indestructible, but in the formation of the individual living creature they are only lent temporarily, for this occasion and for a brief period, after which they are withdrawn for ever from the particular creature. Vitaque mancipio nulli datur, omnibus usu.

After his death the individual is unaffected by the fate of his inanimate body;[80] nor should he be troubled by the thought of what may happen to the atoms of his soul. Death does not concern him at all; for he only is when death is not; where death is, he is no longer there.[81] Sensation and consciousness have left him at the dissolution of body and soul; what he cannot possibly feel affects him no longer. Epicurean maxims are never tired of driving home [506] this proposition: death is nothing to us.[82] From every possible direction, from abstract principle and practical experience in actual life, Lucretius labours to demonstrate the truth of this view[83] as ardently as other philosophers seek to prove its opposite. Physical science has no more valuable service to render than that of convincing us of its truth.[84] Just as the wisdom of Epicurus has no other purpose than to protect man, of all creatures the one most sensitive to pain, from distress and anguish—and even pleasure is but the removal of pain—so more particularly, in putting an end to the fear of death and the craving after unceasing life, it serves this finite life itself,[85] that is committed to us once and for all and never repeated.[86] If a man has once succeeded in realizing that he will cease to be in the moment of death’s coming, he will neither be oppressed with terror at the threatened loss of self-consciousness nor will the terrors of eternity[87] or the fabulous monsters of the spirit-world below the earth[88] darken his existence by casting their dark shadow over all his life.[89] He will devote himself to life without repining, neither fearing death nor seeking it.[90]

He alone—the ideal Wise Man of the Epicurean faith—will know how to live as the true artist of his own life;[91] he will not waste the precious time in vain preparations for the future,[92] but will cram every moment to the full so that his brief span of existence will have all that a long life could give. Long life, in fact, even life without an end, would not make him any happier or any richer. What life has to offer it has already offered—anything further must only be a repetition of what has gone before: eadem sunt omnia semper.[93] The Wise Man has no reason even to look for an eternity of life.[94] In his own personality, in this present “now”, he possesses all the conditions necessary to happiness. The very transience of this supreme happiness to which mortality can attain makes it seem the more valuable to him. To the development and the enjoyment of this, the only life that belongs to him he will devote himself exclusively. In ethical matters, too, the atomist doctrine holds good. There is no such thing in nature as an essential community of human beings—still less of humanity—there are only individuals.[95] In associations entered into by free and unforced choice the individual may attach himself to the individual as one friend to another; but the political societies that men have invented and set up among themselves have no obligations for the Wise Man. He is himself the centre and indeed the whole circumference of the world surrounding [507] him. State and society are valuable, and indeed only exist for the protection of the individual and to make it possible for him under their enfolding care to develop his own personality in freedom.[96] The individual, on the other hand, does not exist for the state, but for himself. “It is no longer necessary to save the Hellenes or to win crowns of victory from them in contests of wisdom.”[97] Such is the decision reached with a sigh of relief by a civilization that has attained the highest point of its development and is now overcome by a lassitude in which it no longer sets itself new tasks, but takes its ease as age may be permitted to do. In its lassitude it no longer hopes, and in all honesty no longer cares, to extend the period of its existence beyond the limits of this earthly life. Calm and untroubled it sees this life, dear though it may once have been, fade away, taking its leave and sinking into nothingness without a struggle.

NOTES TO CHAPTER XIV
PART I

[1] At first the philosophy of Plato’s old age lived on in spirit in the Academy. Just as his pupils carried on his Pythagorean speculations about numbers, reduced his imaginative suggestions as to a daimonic nature intermediate between that of God and man to pedantic system, and elaborated the theological strain in his thought to a gloomy and burdensome deisidaimonia (witness esp. the Epinomis of Philippos of Opos and in addition all that we know of Xenokrates’ speculations)—so too they retained and respected for a time the Platonic doctrine of the soul and the ascetic tendency in his ethical teaching. For Philippos of Opos the aim of all human endeavour is a final and blessed emancipation from this world (which, however, is only possible for a few of those who are, in his special manner, “wise”—973 C ff., 992 C). He is a mystic for whom this earth and its life fall away into nothing: all serious interest is confined to the contemplation of divine things such as are revealed in mathematics and astronomy. Again, the Platonic doctrine of the soul, in its mystic and world-renouncing sense, lies at the bottom of the fabulous narratives of Herakleides Pontikos (in the Ἄβαρις, Ἐμπεδότιμος, etc.). This, too, accounts for the youthful attempts in this direction of Aristotle himself (in the Εὔδημος and probably also in the Προτρεπτικός). This side of his doctrine was as it seems systematized from the standpoint of the latest stage of Platonism by Xenokrates in particular. It may be merely accident that we do not hear very reliably of anything indicating an ascetic tendency or an “other-worldly” effort after emancipation of the soul in connexion with Xenokrates. Krantor (in his much-read book περὶ πένθους) was already capable of employing the Platonic doctrine of the soul and the imaginative fancies that could be attached to it simply as a literary adornment. And before him his teacher Polemon betrays a turning aside from the true Platonic mysticism. With Arkesilaos the last vestige of this whole type of thought disappears completely.

[2] τοῖς ἐλευθέροις ἥκιστα ἔξεστιν ὅ τι ἔτυχε ποιεῖν, ἀλλα πάντα ἢ τὰ πλεῖστα τέτακται, Arist., Meta. 1075a, 19 (in maxima fortuna minima licentia est, Sall., C. 51, 13). Freedom in this sense indeed was a thing of the past.

[3] Not that such hopes or fears were entirely absent. The reader will remember the case of Kleombrotos of Ambrakia (Call., Ep. 25), who by reading the Phaedo of Plato (and completely misunderstanding the meaning of the prophet, as not unfrequently happens) was led to seek an immediate entrance into the life of the other world by a violent break with this one—and committed suicide. This is an isolated example of a mood to which Epiktetos bears witness as common in his own much later time—the desire felt by many young men of ardent temperament to escape from the distracted life of humanity and return as quickly as possible to the universal life of God by the destruction of their own individual existence: Epict. 1, 9, 11 ff. But in the earlier period such violent manifestations of other-worldly fanaticism were of rare occurrence. Hedonism was [509] capable of leading to the same result as we may see from the Ἀποκαρτερῶν of Hegesias the Cyrenaic, called ὁ πεισιθάνατος, whom Cicero mentions together with this same Kleombrotos: TD. i, 83–4.

[4] τὸ σῶμά πως τῆς ψυχῆς ἕνεκεν (γέγονει), as ὁ πρίων τῆς πρίσεως ἕνεκα—and not vice versa: PA. 1, 5, 645b, 19.

[5] The ψυχή is related to the body as ὄψις is to the eye, i.e. as the effective power residing in the ὄργανον (not like ὅρασις, the individual act of vision). It is the πρώτη ἐντελέχεια of its body de An. ii, 1, 412a, 27. There is no σύνθεσις of σῶμα and ψυχή: they are simply “together” like the wax and the ball formed out of the wax: Top. 151a, 20 ff.; GA. 729b, 9 ff.; de An. 412b, 7.

[6] ἀπελθούσης γοῦν (τῆς ψυχῆς) οὔκετι ζῷόν ἐστιν, οὐδὲ τῶν μορίων οὐδὲν τὸ αὐτὸ λείπεται, πλὴν τῷ σχήματι μόνον καθάπερ τὰ μυθευόμενα λιθοῦσθαι, PA. 641a, 18.

[7] Meta. 1026a, 5: περὶ ψυχῆς ἐνίας θεωρῆσαι τοῦ φυσικοῦ, ὅση μὴ ἄνευ τῆς ὑλῆς ἐστίν.—οὐδὲ γὰρ πᾶσα ψυχὴ φύσις, ἀλλά τι μόριον αὐτῆς, PA. 641b, 9. The subject of τὸ κεχωρισμένον of the soul is studied by ὁ πρῶτος φιλόσοφος: de An. 403b, 16.

[8] λέγω δὲ νοῦν, ᾧ διανοεῖται καὶ ὑπολαμβάνει ἡ ψυχή, de An. 429a, 23.

[9] The νοῦς and its θεωρητικὴ δύναμις ἔοικε ψυχῆς γένος ἕτερον εἶναι καὶ τοῦτο μόνον ἐνδέχεται χωρίζεσθαι, καθάπερ τὸ ἀΐδιον τοῦ φθαρτοῦ, τὰ δὲ λοιπὰ μόρια τῆς ψυχῆς οὐκ ἔστι χωριστά κτλ., de An. 413b, 25.

[10] There can be no doubt that Aristotle’s opinion was that νοῦς was uncreated and existed without beginning from eternity: see Zeller, Sitzb. Berl. Ak. 1882, p. 1033 ff.

[11] θύραθεν ἐπεισέρχεται into the man as he is being made, GA. 736b, 28; cf. ὁ θύραθεν νοῦς, 744b, 21.

[12] νοῦς is ἀπαθής, ἀμιγής, οὐ μέμικται τῷ σώματι—it has no physical ὄργανον, de An. iii, 4. οὐδὲν αὐτοῦ (τοῦ νοῦ) τῇ ἐνεργείᾳ κοινωνεῖ σωματικὴ ἐνέργεια, GA. 736b, 28.

[13] μόριον τῆς ψυχῆς, de An. 429a, 10 ff. ψυχὴ οὐχ ὅλη, ἀλλ’ ἡ νοητική, 429a, 28. ἡ ψυχὴ . . . μὴ πᾶσα ἀλλ’ ὁ νοῦς, Meta. 1070a, 26.

[14] The ζῷον a μικρὸς κόσμος, Phys. 252b, 26.

[15] νοῦς, θειότερόν τι καὶ ἀπαθές, de An. 408b, 29.—τὸν νοῦν θεῖον εἶναι μόνον, GA. 736b, 28 (737a, 10). εἴτε θεῖον ὅν εἴτε τῶν ἐν ἡμῖν τὸ θείοτατον, EN. 1177a, 15. νοῦς is τὸ συγγενέστατον to the gods, 1179a, 26.—τὸ ἀνθρώπων γένος ἢ μόνον μετέχει τοῦ θείου τῶν ἡμῖν γνωρίμων ζῴων ἢ μάλιστα πάντων, PA. 656a, 7.

[16] ἔργον τοῦ θειοτάτου τὸ νοεῖν καὶ φρονεῖν, PA. 686a, 28.

[17] Meta. Λ 7, 9.

[18] EN. 1178b, 7–22; Cael. 292b, 4 ff.

[19] So too ἐπικαλύπτεται ὁ νοῦς ἐνίοτε πάθει ἢ νόσῳ ἢ ὕπνῳ, de An. 429a, 7.

[20] θιγγάνειν is the term often applied to the activity of νοῦς, i.e. a simple and indivisible act of apperceiving the ἀσύνθετα. This act not being composite (of subject and predicate), like judgment, leaves no room for error: the act simply occurs or does not occur—ἀληθές or ψεῦδος does not enter into the question with it. Meta. 1051b, 16–26 (θιγεῖν, 24–5), 1027b, 21.

[21] τὰ ἀληθῆ καὶ πρῶτα καὶ ἄμεσα καὶ γνωριμώτερα καὶ πρότερα καὶ αἴτια τοῦ συμπεράσματος, An. Po. i, 2, This ἀμέσων ἐπιστήμη ἀναπόδεικτος (72b, 19) belong to νοῦς. There is only a νοῦς—not an ἐπιστήμη (as being a ἕξις ἀποδεικτική, EN. 1139b, 31)—τῶν ἀρχῶν, τῆς ἀρχῆς τοῦ ἐπιστητοῦ, EN. vi, 6. Thus also νοῦς is ἐπιστήμης ἀρχή, An. Po. 100b, 5–17. τῶν ἀκινήτων ὅρων καὶ πρώτων νοῦς ἐστὶ καὶ οὐ λόγος, EN. 1143b, 1 (cf. MM. 1197a, 20 ff.). [510]

[22] τὸ κύριον, EN. 1178a, 3, and frequently. νοῦς δοκεῖ ἀρχεῖν καὶ ἡγεῖσθαι, 1177a, 14. It rules esp. over ὄρεξις (as ἡ ψυχή does over the σῶμα), Pol. 1254b, 5 (cf. EN. 1102b, 29 ff.).

[23] A man is called ἐγκρατής or ἀκρατής, τῷ κατεῖν τὸν νοῦν ἢ μή· ὡς τούτου ἑκάστου ὄντος, EN. 1168b, 35. δόξειε δ’ ἄν καὶ εἶναι ἕκαστος τοῦτο (νοῦς), 1178a, 2. τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ δὴ (κράτιστον καὶ ἤδιστον) ὁ κατὰ τὸν νοῦν βίος, εἴπερ τοῦτο μάλιστα ἄνθρωπος (here only in so far as the possession of νοῦς distinguishes men in general from the other ζῷα), 1178a, 6.

[24] Cicero makes a distinction of this kind between ratio and animus. Off. i, 107 (after Panaetius): intellegendum est, duabus quasi nos a natura indutos esse personis; quarum una communis est ex eo quod omnes participes sumus rationis . . . ; altera autem quae proprie singulis est tributa.

[25] ἅπαντα τὰ γινόμενα καὶ φθειρόμενα φαίνεται, Cael. 279b, 20. τὸ γενόμενον ἀνάγκη τέλος λαβεῖν, Ph. 203b, 8. But ἅπαν τὸ ἀεὶ ὄν ἁπλως ἄφθαρτον. ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ ἀγένητον, Cael. 281b, 25. εἰ τὸ ἀγένητον ἄφθαρτον καὶ τὸ ἄφθαρτον ἀγένητον, ἀνάγκη καὶ τὸ “ἀΐδιον” ἑκατέρῳ ἀκολουθεῖν, καὶ εἴτε τι ἀγένητον, ἀΐδιον, εἴτε τι ἄφθαρτον, ἀΐδιον κτλ., Cael. 282a, 31 ff. Thus too νοῦς (ἀπαθής) as uncreated is everlasting and imperishable (see Zeller, Sitzb. B. Ak. 1882, p. 1044 f.). It belongs to the imperishable οὐσίαι, which as such are τίμιαι καὶ θεῖαι, PA. 644b, 22 ff.

[26] ὁ νοῦς ὑπομένει at the separation, Meta. 1070a, 25–6. More strictly this applies to the νοῦς ἀπαθής (ποιητικός). While the νοῦς παθητικός (whose relation to the νοῦς ποιητικός remains most obscure) is φθαρτός, we hear of the νοῦς ποιητικός that it is χωρισθεὶς μόνον τοῦτο ὅπερ ἐτί, καὶ τοῦτο μόνον ἀθάνατον καὶ ἀΐδιον, de An. 430a, 10–25.

[27] de An. 408b, 18 ff.: νοῦς οὐ φθείρεται, nor ὑπὸ τῆς ἐν τῷ γήρᾳ ἀμαυρώσεως . . . τὸ νοεῖν καὶ τὸ θεωρεῖν μαραίνεται (in old age) ἄλλου τινος ἔσω φθειρομένου (? nothing perishes within τὸ νοεῖν—read ἐν ᾧ as in l. 23 and understand: ἄλλου τινὸς ἐν ᾧ τὸ νοεῖν = ὁ νοῦς, ἔνεστι, i.e. the whole living man), αὐτὸ δὲ ἀπαθές ἐστιν (just as νοῦς is always ἀναλλοίωτον, even its νόησις is no κίνησις, and the λῆψις τῆς ἐπιστήμης makes no ἀλλοίωσις for it: de An. 407a, 32; Ph. 247a, 28; b, 1 ff.; 20 ff.), τὸ δὲ διανοεῖσθαι (thinking and judging) καὶ φιλεῖν ἢ μισεῖν οὐκ ἔστιν ἐκείνου πάθη, ἀλλὰ τοῦδε τοῦ ἔχοντος ἐκεῖνο, ᾗ ἐκεῖνο ἔχει. διὸ καὶ τούτου φθειρομένου οὔτε μνημονεύει οὔτε φιλεῖ, οὐ γὰρ ἐκείνου ἦν, ἀλλὰ τοῦ κοίνου (that which had once been associated with the νοῦς), ὃ ἀπόλωλεν· ὁ δὲ νοῦς ἴσως θειότερόν τι καὶ ἀπαθές ἐστιν. In its separate existence νοῦς has no memory—this at least is meant by οὐ μνημονεύομεν, de An. 430a, 23, however we may be inclined to interpret the rest of the sentence.

[28] Particularly in the Εὔδημος (frr. 31–40 [37–44]), probably also in the Προτρεπτικός.

[29] For this must be the meaning of fr. 36 = 44 (Εὔδ.)—the δαίμων is the soul itself; cf. 35 [41].

[30] de An. 407b, 13–26; 414a, 19–27.—And yet it must be admitted that the νοῦς of Aristotle is itself a τυχόν within another τυχόν—not indeed as a separate entity with any qualities set in a fortuitous vessel of perhaps discordant qualities that do not fit it (which acc. to the Πυθαγόρειος μῦθος was true of the ψυχή in the σῶμα)—but at any rate set within an animated individual with quite definite qualities as a stranger, itself devoid of all definite quality and therefore not capable of having a character specially fitting that individual in which it is placed. Thus, after all, the Aristotelian μῦθος about the νοῦς betrays its origin from the μῦθοι of old theology. [511]

[31] It is only as an argumentum ad hominem that the view is suggested on one occasion, that βέλτιον τῷ νῷ μὴ μετὰ σώματος εἶναι (καθάπερ εἴωθέ τε λέγεσθαι καὶ πολλοῖς συνδοκεῖ), de An. 407b, 4.

[32] EN. x, 7–9.—δοκεῖ ἡ φιλοσοφία θαυμαστὰς ἡδονὰς ἔχειν καθαριότητι καὶ τῷ βεβαίῳ. εὔλογον δὲ τοῖς εἰδόσι τῶν ζητούντων ἡδίω τὴν διαγωγὴν εἶναι, 1177a, 26. The σοφός requires no σύνεργοι (as the σώφρων and the ἀνδρεῖος do), and is αὐταρκέστατος in himself. The activity of νοῦς is the most valuable as being θεωρητική and because παρ’ αὑτὴν οὐδένος ἐφίεται τέλους. A sufficiently long life of the theoretic activity of νοῦς is τελεία εὐδαιμονία ἀνθρώπου—indeed, this is no longer an ἀνθρώπινος βίος, but rather κρείττων ἢ κατ’ ἄνθρωπον—a θεῖος βίος as νοῦς θεῖόν τι ἐν ἀνθρώπῳ ὑπάρχει. Therefore man must not ἀνθρώπινα φρονεῖν but ἐφ’ ὅσον ἐνδέχεται ἀθανατίζειν (be immortal already in this life) καὶ πάντα ποιεῖν πρὸς τὸ ζῆν κατὰ τὸ κράτιστον τῶν ἐν αὑτῷ (1177b, 31 ff.). This τελεία εὐδαιμονία, as a θεωρητικὴ ἐνέργεια, brings the thinkers near to the gods whose life does not consist in πράττειν (not even virtuous) or ποιεῖν but in pure θεωρία, and this can be so with the life of man (alone among the ζῷα) ἐφ’ ὅσον ὁμοίωμά τι τῆς τοιαύτης (θεωρητικῆς) ἐνεργείας ὑπάρχει (1178b, 7–32). Nowhere do we meet with so much as the shadow of an idea that the εὐδαιμονία of the θεωρητικὸς βίος can only become τελεία in “another” world, or is conceivable as existing elsewhere than in the life on earth. The only condition for τελεία εὐδαιμονία that is made is μῆκος βίου τέλειον (1177b, 25)—nothing lying outside or beyond this life. The θεωρητικὸς βίος has its complete and final development here upon earth.—τέλειος βίος is mentioned as necessary for the obtaining of εὐδαιμονία, EN. 1100a, 5; 1101a, 16. But εὐδαιμονία is completely confined within the limits of earthly life: to call a dead man εὐδαίμονα would be παντελῶς ἄτοπον, for he lacks the ἐνέργεια which is the essence of εὐδαιμονία—only a mere shadow of sensation can belong to the κεκμηκότες (almost the Homeric conception) 1100a, 11–29; 1101a, 22–b, 9.—Since it is impossible for the individual to enjoy an unending permanence and share in τὸ ἀεὶ καὶ θεῖον, it follows that the continuation of the individual after death consists only in the continuance of the εἴδος—not of the αὐτό (which perishes) but only of the οἷον αὐτό which persists in the series of creatures propagated on earth: de An. 415a, 28–b, 7; GA. 731a, 24–b, 1. (Borrowed from the observations of Plato, Smp. 206 C–207 A; cf. also Lg. 721 C, 773 E; Philo, Incor. Mund. 8, ii, p. 495 M., after Kritolaos.) It was much easier for Aristotle to take this conception seriously than it was for Plato with his particular outlook: only for the passing requirements of his dialogue does Plato adopt the Herakleitean view and expand it: see above, chap. xi, [n. 16].

[33] οἶμαι δὲ τοῦ γινώσκειν τὰ ὄντα καὶ φρονεῖν ἀφαιρεθέντος οὐ βίον ἀλλὰ χρόνον εἶναι τὴν ἀθανασίαν, Plu., Is. et Os. i, fin., p. 351 E. Origen (Cels. iii, 80, p. 359 Lom.) draws a clear distinction between the ἀθανασία τῆς ψυχῆς of Platonic doctrine and the Stoic ἐπιδιαμονὴ τῆς ψυχῆς on the one hand—and this Aristotelian doctrine of the τοῦ νοῦ ἀθανασία: οἱ πεισθέντες περὶ τοῦ θύραθεν νοῦ ὡς ἀθανάτου (θανάτου Edd.) καὶ μόνου (καινοῦ Edd.) διαγωγὴν (= βίον) ἔξοντος (—this is how the passage should be read).

[34] Theophrastos discussed (by the method of ἀπορίαι fashionable with the school) the obscurities and difficulties inherent in the doctrine of νοῦς, particularly of the reduplicated νοῦς, the ποιητικός and the παθητικός. True to his character, however, he adheres to the fixed dogma of his school of the νοῦς χωριστός which ἔξωθεν ὢν καὶ ὥσπερ [512] ἐπίθετος is ὅμως σύμφυτος with man and being ἀγέννητος is also ἄφθαρτος: Frag. 53b, p. 226 ff.; 53, p. 176 Wim. (θεωρία belongs to νοῦς, θιγόντι καὶ οἷον ἁψαμένῳ, and is therefore without ἀπάτη, fr. 12, § 26. The νοῦς is κρεῖττόν τι μέρος [τῆς ψυχῆς] καὶ θειότερον, fr. 53. To the νοῦς and its θεωρία we must suppose the κατὰ δύναμιν ὁμοιοῦσθαι θεῷ to refer—for this is the teaching of Thphr. also: Jul., Or. vi, p. 185 A.) Nowhere is there any indication that for him the immortality of νοῦς had the slightest importance for this life and its conduct. Nor has it any in the ethical doctrine of the very theologically inclined Eudemos. Here the aim of life—the ἀρετὴ τέλειος which is καλολἀγαθία—is said to be ἡ τοῦ θεοῦ θεωρία which is carried on by the νοῦς, τὸ ἐν ἠμῖν θεῖον, 1248a, 27; in this process it is best ἥκιστα αἰσθάνεσθαι τοῦ ἄλλου μέρους τῆς ψυχῆς, 1249b, 22. For the sake of τὸ γνωρίζειν man wishes ζῆν ἀεὶ, 1245a, 9—but upon earth and in the body: there is no thought of the other world. (This would have been quite natural and to be expected of this semi-theological thinker who, e.g. speaks quite seriously of the separability of νοῦς from the λόγος—the ἄλλο μέρος τῆς ψυχῆς—in bodily life and of its higher intuition in enthousiasmos and veracious dreaming: 1214a, 23; 1225a, 28; 1248a, 40.)—To this first generation of Peripatetics belong also Aristoxenos and Dikaiarchos who did not recognize any peculiar substance of the “soul” apart from the “harmony” brought about by the mixture of bodily material. Dik. ἀνῄρηκε τὴν ὅλην ὑπόστασιν τῆς ψυχῆς: Atticus ap. Eus., PE. xv, 810 A. Aristox. and Dik. nullum omnino animum esse dixerunt Cic. TD. 1, 51: 21; 41, etc.; Dik. (in the Λεσβιακοὶ λόγοι) expressly controverted the doctrine of immortality, TD. i, 77. (It remains very remarkable that Dik. who naturally knew nothing of a separabilis animus, TD. i, 21, nevertheless, believed not merely in mantic dreams—that would be just intelligible, ἔχει γάρ τινα λόγον, Arist., P. Nat. 462b ff.—but also in the prophetic power of ἐνθουσιασμός, Cic., Div. i, 5; 113; Dox. 416a, which invariably presupposes the dogma of a special substance of the “soul” and its separability from the body.)—Straton “the naturalist” (d. 270), for whom the soul is an undivided force, inseparable from the body and the αἰσθήσεις, gave up completely the belief in the νοῦς χωριστός of Aristotle: he cannot possibly have held any doctrine of immortality in any form or under any limitations.—Then follows the period of pure scholarship when the Peripatetic school almost gave up philosophy. With the return to the study of the master’s writings (from the time of Aristonikos) they gained a new lease of life. The problems of the parts of the soul, the relation of νοῦς to the soul (and to the νοῦς παθητικός) were discussed once more. It became more and more common, however, to set aside the νοῦς θύραθεν ἐπεισιών (cf. the definition of the soul given by Andronikos ap. Galen π. τ. τῆς ψυχῆς ἠθῶν, iv, 782 f., K.; Themist., de An. ii, 56, 11; 59, 6 Sp.). This meant the denial of immortality (which belonged to νοῦς only): e.g. by Boëthos: Simp., de An. p. 247, 24 ff. Hayd. [Sto. Vet. iii, 267 Arn.]. A different view again, and one which even went beyond Aristotle, was held by Kratippos, the contemporary of Boëthos: Cic., Div. i, 70; cf. 5; 113. Alexander of Aphrodisias the great ἐξηγητής absolutely banished the νοῦς ποιητικός from the human soul. (This is the divine νοῦς, which is perpetually νοῦς and νοητὸν ἐνεργείᾳ, and that, too, already πρὸ τοῦ νοεῖσθαι by the ὑλικὸς νοῦς of man. It enters into the latter θύραθεν—though not locally, for it is incapable of change of place, p. 113, 18 f.—with the individual act of νοεῖν by the νοῦς ὑλικός, but it never becomes a μόριον καὶ δύναμίς τις τῆς [513] ἡμετέρας ψυχῆς: Alex. de An., p. 107–9; p. 90 Br.). For him νοῦς is χωριστός and ἀθάνατος, ἀπαθής, etc., whereas the human soul exactly like the εἶδος of its σῶμα from which it is ἀχωριστός perishes at death together with its νοῦς ὑλικός, completely: συμφθείρεται τῷ σώματι, de An., p. 21, 22 f.; p. 90, 16 f. The individual soul thus perishes: the imperishable νοῦς had not communicated itself to the individual.—The indestructibility of the individual νοῦς of man (and this was indubitably what Aristotle himself taught), a doctrine derived not from experience but from pure logical inference, had in reality no serious significance for the general teaching of the Peripatetics so long as they preserved their independence. Finally, indeed, they too were swallowed up in the ferment of Neoplatonism.

[35] ἕξις, φύσις, ἄλογος ψυχή, ψυχὴ λόγον ἔχουσα καὶ διάνοιαν, Plu., Virt. Mor. 451 BC and A. Through all these and all things in which these are—διήκει ὁ νοῦς, D.L. vii, 138 f. [ii, p. 192 Arn.].

[36] Our soul an ἀπόσπασμα of the ἔμψυχος κόσμος, D.L. vii, 143 [ii, 191 Arn.]. We often find the soul of man called an ἀπόσπασμα τοῦ θεοῦ (Διός), θεία ἀπόμοιρα, ἀπόρροια (see Gataker on M. Ant., pp. 48, 211; Ed. 1652)—and often even θεός (see Bonhöffer, Epiktet u. d. Stoa, p. 76 f.).

[37] (ἡ ψυχὴ) ἀραιότερον πνεῦμα τῆς φύσεως καὶ λεπτομέρεστερον . . . Chrysipp. ap. Plu., Stoic. Rep. 41, p. 1052 F [ii, 222 Arn.]. “Nature” is πνεῦμα that has become moist, soul the same πνεῦμα which has remained dry (Galen, iv, 783 f. K. [p. 218 Arn.]).

[38] The βρέφος is created as a φύτον, and only afterwards becomes a ζῷον by περίψυξις (derivation of ψυχή hence!). Chrysipp. ap. Plu., Stoic. Rep. 1052 F [p. 222 Arn.]. Thus comes ἐκ φύσεως ψυχή, Plu., Prim. Frig. ii, p. 946 C.

[39] It would almost be possible to employ the semi-Stoic language of Philo to describe the soul as conceived by this Stoic Pantheism: τῆς θείας ψυχῆς ἀπόσπασμα οὐ διαιρετόν (τέμνεται γὰρ οὐδὲν τοῦ θείου κατ’ ἀπάρτησιν, ἀλλὰ μόνον ἐκτείνεται), Q. Det. Pot. Insid., 24, i, p. 209 M. But in orthodox Stoic doctrine the idea prevails that the individual ἀποσπάσματα are completely detached from the universal θεῖον—but at the same time without denial of ultimate connexion with the “All” and the “One”.

[40] Acc. to the older Stoical doctrine as systematized by Chrysippos the soul is absolutely simple and unified, having sprung from the universal Reason of God which contains no ἄλογον. Its impulses (ὁρμαί) must on this view be rational just as much as its willed decisions (κρίσεις): it is affected from without by φύσις, which, being itself a development of the highest reason, God, can only be good and rational. It is quite impossible to conceive how, on the principles of the older Stoicism, erroneous judgment or excessive and evil impulses could arise. ἡ τῆς κακίας γένεσις is rendered unintelligible as Poseidonios maintains in opposition to the subtle observations of Chrysipp. on this head (see Schmekel, Phil. d. mittl. Stoa, p. 327 ff.).

[41] ἀκολούθως τῇ φύσει ζῆν (but our φύσεις are μέρη τῆς τοῦ ὅλου), i.e. in harmony with the κοίνος νόμος ὅσπερ ἐστὶν ὁ ὀρθὸς λόγος ὁ διὰ πάντων ἐρχόμενος, ὁ αὐτὸς ὢν τῷ Διί, καθηγεμόνι τούτῳ τῆς τῶν ὅλων διοικήσεως ὄντι, Chrysipp. ap. D.L. vii, 87–8 [iii, 3 Arn.]. This obedience to the rational order and governance of the world—the deum sequere, Sen., VB. 15, 5; Ep. 16, 5; ἕπεσθαι θεοῖς, Epict. i, 12, 5, etc.—is more often regarded as a passive attitude of self-abandonment adopted consciously and with συγκατάθεσις: χρῶ μοι λοιπὸν εἰς ὃ ἂν θέλῃς. ὁμογνωμονῶ σοι, σός εἰμι κτλ., Epict. ii, 16, 42. θέλε γίνεσθαι τὰ [514] γινόμενα ὡς γίνεται, καὶ εὐροήσεις (this sounds very like “make God’s will your own will”), Ench. 8. Much the same idea occurs already in the lines of Kleanthes ἄγου δέ μ’ ὧ Ζεῦ καὶ σύ γ’ ἡ Πεπρωμένη κτλ. [i, 118 Arn.]. But such “affirmation of the universe”, understood in the full pantheistic sense (cf. Kleanthes τὴν κοινὴν μόνην ἐκδέχεται φύσιν ᾗ δεῖ ἀκολουθεῖν, οὐκέτι δὲ καὶ τὴν ἐπὶ μέρους, D.L. vii, 89 [i, 126 Arn.]), could not lead to an ethical teaching of active character and concrete substance.

[42] The σοφός is ἐλεύθερος· εἶναι γὰρ τὴν ἐλευθερίαν ἐξουσίαν αὐτοπραγίας, D.L. vii, 121. Laws and constitutions do not apply to him: Cic., Ac. Pri. ii, 136.

[43] Enemies and strangers are μὴ σπουδαῖοι to one another—πολῖται καὶ φίλοι καὶ οἰκεῖοι οἱ σπουδαῖοι μόνον. Zeno, ἐν τῇ Πολιτείᾳ, ap. D.L. vii, 32–3 [i, 54 Arn.].

[44] ὁ παρ’ ἑκάστῳ δαίμων which one must keep in harmony πρὸς τὴν τοῦ τῶν ὅλων διοικητοῦ βούλησιν, D.L. vii, 88, after Chrysipp. [iii, 4 Arn.]. In the later Stoic literature, the only part of it which has come down to us, we often hear of this δαίμων of the individual—sacer intra nos spiritus (Sen., Epict., M. Ant.: see Bonhöffer, Epiktet, 83). It is generally spoken of in language that seems to regard it as something separable from the man or his soul, including the ἡγεμονικόν; Zeus παρέστησεν ἐπίτροπον ἑκάστῳ τὸν ἑκάστου δαίμονα καὶ παρέδωκε φυλάσσειν αὐτὸν αὐτῷ κτλ., Epict. i, 14, 12. ὁ δαίμων ὂν ἑκάστῳ προστάτην καὶ ἡγεμόνα ὁ Ζεὺς ἔδωκεν, M. Ant. v, 27. ἀνάκρινον τὸ δαιμόνιον, Epict. iii, 22, 53 (one can ask questions of it, as Sokrates did of his δαιμόνιον, as something other and different from oneself). This δαίμων then does not seem to be simply identifiable with the “soul” of man like the daimon in man of which the theologians speak. It is conceived and spoken of in language that suggests rather the “protecting spirit” of a man as known to popular belief (cf. now Usener, Götternamen, 294 ff.). ἅπαντι δαίμων ἀνδρὶ συμπαρίσταται εὐθὺς γενομένῳ μυσταγωγὸς τοῦ βίου, Menand. 550 K. (where the idea of two daimonic partners in the life of man is already rejected: Eukleides Socr. had spoken of such, cf. Censor., DN. iii, 3, and in a different way again Phocyl., fr. 15). Plato himself speaks (with a λέγεται) of the δαίμων ὅσπερ ζῶντα εἰλήχει (and guides the departed soul into Hades): Phd. 107 D. The idea, however, must have been much older: it appears fairly clearly expressed in Pindar’s words, O. xiii, 28 (Ζεῦ πάτηῤ), Ξενόφωντος εὔθυνε δαίμονος οὖρον, where the transition to the meaning “fate” for the word δαίμων has not yet been completed. Later (with the Tragedians and other poets) this use became very common, but even then still presupposes the belief in such personal daimonic partners in the life of man: the use would have been quite impossible otherwise. (δαίμων = πότμος, Pi., P. v, 121 f., and already in Thgn. 161, 163. When Herakleitos says ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμων, fr. 121 By., 119 D. he uses δαίμων in the sense of fortune in life. The word means both ἦθος and condition of life at the same time in Pl., Rp. 617 E, οὐχ ὑμᾶς δαίμων λήξεται, ἀλλ’ ὑμεῖς δαίμονα αἱρήσεσθε, where the derivation of the metaphorical use of the word δαίμων from a belief in a special daimon belonging to the individual man can still be seen plainly. See also [Lys.] Epit. (2), 78. But the metaphorical use comes as early as Θ 166, πάρος τοι δαίμονα δώσω = πότμον ἐφήσω.)—The personal existence of the daimon is still far removed from all danger of such abstraction in a very remarkable case: in Halikarnassos Poseidonios and his ἔκγονοι decide that on the first day of the month they will offer Δαίμονι ἀγαθῷ Ποσειδωνίου . . . κριόν (Gr. Ins. in Br. Mus. [515] iv, 1, n. 896, p. 70, l. 35. The inscr. seems to date from the third century B.C.). Here then offering is made to the ἀγαθὸς δαίμων (see above, chap. v, [n. 133]) of the living, just as offering was made on birthdays, and at other times also, to the genius of Romans; ἀγ. δ. is here clearly equivalent to genius. Apollo whose advice had been sought at his oracle had expressly enjoined (ib., l. 9) . . . τιμᾶν καὶ ἱλάσκεσθαι καὶ ἀγαθὸν δαίμονα Ποσειδωνίου καὶ Γόργιδος (the latter, P.’s mother, seems to have been already dead: l. 34).—This special δαίμων attached to individuals with whom it can be contrasted (as Brutus can be with his δαίμων κακός: Plu., Brut. 36) is distinct from the individual’s ψυχή, though it is natural to suppose that it may have arisen from the projection of the ψυχή—conceived as very independent—outside the man himself, in which it would again resemble the Roman genius. (The daimonic φύλακες of Hesiod [cf. above, [p. 67] ff.], belong to quite a different range of ideas.) At any rate the Stoics had this analogous popular conception in mind when they spoke of the παρ’ ἑκάστῳ δαίμων as something different from the man himself and his ἡγεμονικόν. They use it, however, only as a figure of speech. The δαίμων of the individual really means for them “the original, ideal personality as contrasted with the empirical personality” (as Bonhöffer very rightly puts it: Epikt. 84)—the character the man already is ideally but must become actually (γένοι’ οἷος ἐσσί . . .). Thus the δαίμων is distinct from the ψυχή (διάνοια) and yet identical with it. It is a semi-allegorical play upon the idea of the δαίμων as individual genius and at the same time as crown or summit of the human personality—just as Plato had used the word already incidentally, Tim. 90 A. Finally—for the Stoics did not seriously wish to establish the existence of an independent protecting deity that enters man from without and rules over him—the ἡγεμονικόν is the same as the δαίμων. Thus in M. Ant. iv, 27, the δαίμων is completely identical with the ἀπόσπασμα Διός, and the ἑκάστου νοῦς καὶ λόγος (cf. also iii, 3 fin.; ii, 13; 17; iii, 7, τὸν ἑαυτοῦ νοῦν καὶ δαίμονα). The fact, however, that this ἀπόσπασμα τοῦ θεοῦ can be called a δαίμων bears witness to a tendency to conceive the soul-spirit as something independent and more cut off and separated from the common and original source of divinity than was possible for Stoic pantheism of the stricter sort (to which the terms ἀπόσπασμα, ἀπόρροια τοῦ θεοῦ were more apt). A decided approximation was thus made to the theological idea of the “soul” as an individual daimon which persists in its separate existence. To this view Poseidonios went over completely: he regards the individual δαίμων that lives in man as συγγενὴς ὢν τῷ τὸν ὅλον κόσμον διοικοῦντι (Pos. ap. Gal. v, 469), and no longer as the dependent ἀπόσπασμα of the latter, but as one of many independent and individually characterized spirits that have lived from all time in the air and enter into man at birth. (See Bonhöffer, Epikt. 79–80, and also Schmekel, Phil. d. mittl. Stoa, 249 ff., 256.)

[45] ὁ θάνατος ἐστι χωρισμὸς ψυχῆς ἀπὸ σώματος . . . Chrysipp. ap. Nemes., NH., p. 81 Matth.; Zeno and Chrysipp. ap. Tert., An. 5 [ii, 219 Arn.].

[46] Everything comes into being and perishes, including the gods, ὁ δὲ Ζεὺς μόνος ἀΐδιός ἐστι, Chrysipp. ap. Plu., Sto. Rep. 38, p. 1052 A; Comm. Not. 31, p. 1075 A ff. [ii, 309 Arn.].—ἐπιδιαμονὴ but not ἀθανασία of the human soul [ib., 223].

[47] Κλεάνθης μὲν οὖν πάσας (τὰς ψυχὰς) ἐπιδιαμένειν (λέγει) μέχρι τῆς ἐκπυρώσεως, Χρύσιππος δὲ τὰς τῶν σοφῶν μόνον, D.L. vii, 157. [516] A statement often repeated without mention of the two authorities: Arius Did. ap. Eus., PE. 15, 20, 6, p. 822 A–C (the ψυχαὶ τῶν ἀφρόνων καὶ ἀλόγων ζῴων perish immediately with the death of the body, C) and others [ii, 223 Arn.]. Chrysippos’ doctrine comes also in Tac., Agr. 46, si ut sapientibus placet non cum corpore extinguuntur magnae animae (αἱ μεγάλαι ψυχαί, Plu., Def. Or. 18, p. 419 f.); cf. omnium quidem animos immortalis esse sed fortium bonorumque divinos, Cic., Leg. ii, 27, not quite accurately put.

[48] The ἀσθενεστέρα ψυχή (αὕτη δέ ἐστι τῶν ἀπαιδεύτων) perishes sooner, ἡ δὲ ἰσχυροτέρα, οἷα ἐστὶ περὶ τοὺς σοφούς remains μέχρι τῆς ἐκπυρώσεως, [Plu.] Plac. Phil., 4, 7 ap. Dox. 393a.

[49] The predominance of the materialistic point of view is remarkable in those Stoici who acc. to Seneca, Ep. 57, 7, existimant animum hominis magno pondere extriti permanere non posse et statim spargi, quia non fuerit illi exitus liber (which reminds us of the popular belief that the soul of one who has died in a high wind εὐθὺς διαπεφύσηται καὶ ἀπόλωλεν, Pl., Phd. 70 A, 80 D, see above, chap. xiii, [n. 5]).

[50] οὐ τὰ σώματα τὰς ψυχὰς συνέχει ἀλλ’ αἱ ψυχαὶ τὰ σώματα, ὥσπερ καὶ ἡ κόλλα καὶ ἑαυτὴν καὶ τὰ ἐκτὸς κρατεῖ, Poseidon. ap. Ach. Tat., Isag., p. 133 E Petav., borrowed from Arist. (de An. 1, 5, 411b, 7), but a thoroughly Stoic idea as contrasted with Epicurean doctrine (see Heinze, Xenokrates, 100 f.).

[51] S.E., M. ix, 71–3. The naive but quite plain statements go back to Poseid. as has often been pointed out (e.g. by Corssen, de Pos. Rhod., p. 45, 1878, and others). So, too, do the similar remarks in Cic., TD. i, 42. Poseid. does not appear to be uttering heterodox opinions in this case, so far as we can see.

[52] —καὶ γὰρ οὐδὲ τὰς ψυχὰς ἔνεστιν ὑπονοῆσαι κάτω φερομένας. λεπτομερεῖς γὰρ οὖσαι εἰς τοὺς ἄνω μᾶλλον τόπους κουφοφοροῦσιν, S.E., M. ix, 71. This physical reason was in itself enough to make it impossible for the Stoics to believe in a subterranean region of the souls: οὐδεὶς Ἅιδης, οὐδ’ Ἀχέρων, οὐδὲ Κωκυτός κτλ., Epict. iii, 13, 15. It is the regular Stoic doctrine: see Bonhöffer, Epikt. 56 f.; cf. Cic., TD. i, 36 f.; Sen., C. ad Marc. 19, 4. When Stoics speak occasionally of inferi or ᾅδης as the abode of the souls, they are only using metaphorical language. When the word is not a mere conventionalism, they mean the regions nearer the earth, the cloud regions and lower levels of the air, ὁ παχυμερέστατος καὶ προσγειότατος ἀήρ (Corn., ND. 5, p. 4, 17 L; other exx. in Heinze, Xenokr. 147, 2). Here the “unwise” souls (the moister, less buoyant ones) are supposed to remain after death (circa terram as Tert., An. 54 says, alluding to Stoic doctrine—and this is obviously where the inferi mentioned at the end of the same chapter are situated). This ἀήρ (distinguished from the higher regions of the air) = ᾅδης, must have been what Zeno referred to when he spoke of the loca tenebrosa where the souls of the unwise have to expiate their folly (quoted and varied by Lact., Inst. 7, 7, 13, in a Platonic sense [i, 40 Arn.]).

[53] Abode of the souls in the air: S. E., M. ix, 73; Cic., TD. i, 42–3, both probably after Poseid. Cf. sapientum animas in supernis mansionibus collocant (Stoici), Tert., An., 54. Generally: εἰς τὸν ἀέρα μεθίστασθαι said of the departed souls, M. Ant. iv, 21. ἐν τῷ περιέχοντι . . . διαμένειν τὰς τῶν ἀποθανόντων ψυχάς, Ar. Did. ap. Eus., PE. xv, 822 A [ii, 225 Arn.]. (Gradual ascent to ever higher regions, Sen., C. ad Marc. 25, 1—hardly orthodox Stoic doctrine).—The conception may possibly belong to the older Stoicism, and may underlie the opinion of Chrysipp.: σφαιροειδεῖς—as fiery μετέωρα—τὰς ψυχὰς [517] μετὰ θάνατον γίνεσθαι, ap. Eust., Il. 1288, 10 f. [224 Arn.]. Poseid. seems to have worked it out further, probably making use also of Pythagorean and Platonic fancies to which he was distinctly inclined. The Pythagoreans had fancies about the souls hovering in the air (see above, chap. xi, [n. 35]), of the sun and moon as places where the souls lived (chap. x, [n. 76]). Acc. to Poseid. the souls inhabit τὸν ὑπὸ σελήνην τόπον (S.E., M. ix, 73) as suitable for divine but not perfect creatures. It is the souls who are meant when people speak of δαίμονες (S.E. § 74), or ἥρωες (Stoic in this use D.L. vi, 151 [ii, 320 Arn.]); cf. heroes et lares et genii, Varro using Stoic language (ap. Aug., CD. vii, 6, p. 282, 14 Domb.). The whole air is full of them: Pos. ap. Cic., Div. i, 64. Something very similar given as Pythag. doctrine by Alex. Polyh. ap. D.L. viii, 32; see above, chap. xi, [n. 35]. But Poseidonios (esp. if he is really the source of the Ciceronian Somn. Scip.) seems to have emulated more particularly the imaginative efforts of Herakleides Pont. and his story of Empedotimos’ vision (see above, chap. ix, [n. 111]). Herakl. contributed largely to popularizing the idea that the souls inhabit the air and giving it shape; the interest with which his fancies were studied is shown by the quotations from his book so common from Varro down to Proclus and Damascius. He must have been led to make the souls, on being freed from the body, float upwards (and occupy the stars or the moon—which are inhabitable heavenly bodies: Dox. 343, 7 ff.; 356a, 10) by the view—just as the Stoics after him were—that the soul is an αἰθέριον σῶμα (Philop.)—φωτοειδής, a lumen, Tert., An. 9. In this he is following an idea that had been common in the fifth century (held by Xenophanes, Epicharmos, Eurip.: see above, [p. 436] ff.), and had even attained popular vogue. This idea from the very first led to the conclusion that the soul, when ready for it, enters εἰς τὸν ὅμοιον αἰθέρα and ascends to the upper regions (of the aether). Herakleides carried this idea further and embellished it with philosophical and astronomical fancies. (On another occasion he seems to have denied substance and consistency to individual “souls”: Plu., Mor. v, p. 699 Wytt.—a view to which his doctrine of the ὄγκοι might easily have led him.) Poseidonios then took up this idea of Herakl. In this way, or at least not uninfluenced by this semi-philosophical literature, the belief in the abode of the “souls” in the aether attained the popularity that grave inscriptions witness for it (see below, ch. xiv, 2, [n. 135]).

[54] Cicero, following Poseid., imagines a blissful observation of the earth and the stars by the souls in the air: TD. i, 44–7 (cf. Sen., C. ad Marc. 25, 1–2); and similarly in Somn. Sci.; in both cases the idea certainly comes from Herakl. Pont.

[55] ἀπόσπασμα τοῦ θεοῦ [i, 36 Arn.].

[56] A frequently repeated Stoic dogma (stated with particular fullness by Senec., Ep. 93): see Gataker on M. Ant. (iii, 7), p. 108–9. The happiness of the (Stoic) wise man does not require μῆκος βίου τέλειου as Aristot. had maintained (see above, [n. 32]). In this point Stoic and Epicurean doctrine fully agreed: magni artificis est clusisse totum in exiguo: tantum sapienti sua, quantum deo omnis aetas patet (Sen., Ep. 53, 11, and see below, [n. 92]).

[57] Acc. to Panaitios there are duo genera in the soul which he calls inflammata anima (Cic., TD. i, 42). It is at any rate very probable that Panaitios (and Boëthos—roughly contemporary with Pan.: see Comparetti, Ind. Stoic., p. 78 f.—acc. to Macr., in S. Scip. 1, 14, 20) regarded the soul as compounded of two elements, aer et ignis, not [518] as a single and uncompounded πνεῦμα ἔνθερμον as the older Stoa had taught (see Schmekel, Philos. d. mittl. Stoa, 324 f.).

[58] φύσις and ψυχή: Pan. ap. Nemes., NH., p. 212 Matth. This clearly shows a tendency to a psychological dualism: Zeller, Stoics and Epicureans, p. 542 f. What further suggestions were made by Pan. about the division of the soul remains very problematical. The only more precise statement is Cicero’s, TD. i, 80 (speaking of Pan.), aegritudines iras libidinesque semotas a mente et disclusas putat.

[59] Panaitios denied not merely the immortality but even the διαμονή of the soul after death: Cic., TD. i, 78–9. Two reasons are there given: everything that has come into being (like the soul of man at birth) must also perish—the Aristotelian principle: see above, [n. 25]; what can feel pain (as the soul does) must become diseased and what is diseased must eventually perish. (Here the destruction of the soul from its own inward decay is asserted—not from the effect of external force at the world conflagration, the periodic occurrence of which Pan. at least called in question.) Acc. to Schmekel (mittl. Stoa, p. 309) it follows from Cic., TD. i, 42, that Panaitios also added a third argument: that the soul being composite must suffer the dissolution of its parts in death which change into other elements. This does not indeed at all follow from the passage, but such a view would almost have been inevitable with Panaitios’ doctrine of the soul and had already been suggested by Karneades in his polemic against the indestructibility of the divine and of every ζῷον—an argument to which Pan. on the whole yielded.

[60] Poseidonios distinguished in the human soul not three parts but three δυνάμεις μιᾶς οὐσίας ἐκ τῆς καρδίας ὁρμωμένης (Gal. v, 515), namely, the Platonic three, the λογιστικόν, θυμοειδές, ἐπιθυμητικόν (Gal. v, 476). The last two are the δυνάμεις ἄλογοι (they only give φαντασίαι the special forms taken by their impulses: Gal. v, 474, 399). The πάθη are not judgments nor the consequences of judgment but the motions (κινήσεις) of these δυνάμεις ἄλογοι (Gal. v, 429; cf. 378). In this way alone is it possible to understand how passion or wrong-doing can arise in man; it is because soul is not (as Chrysipp. had taught) pure reasoning power (cf. also Gal. iv, 820). There exists then in man an ἄλογον καὶ κακόδαιμον καὶ ἄθεον in addition to the δαίμων συγγενὴς τῷ τὸν ὅλον κόσμον διοικοῦντι: Gal. v, 469 f. How, indeed, this is possible when the soul is a single οὐσία and in its nature nothing but divine πνεῦμα it is difficult to say.—Pos. too was quite ignorant of an evil principle in the world, not the divine or contrary to the divine principle. The ethical teaching of Stoicism had always contained a dualism which is here transferred to the physical doctrine where it was originally unknown. From the time of Pos. there is an ever growing tendency to emphasize the contrast (which was, however, always familiar to the older Stoics as well) between “soul” and “body”, the inutilis caro ac fluida, Pos. ap. Sen., Ep. 92, 10. In view of this contrast the “soul” too is no longer said to come into being with the body or with the physical conception of the individual (cf. γεγονέναι τὴν ψυχὴν καὶ μεταγενεστέραν εἶναι [τοῦ σώματος], Chrysipp. ap. Plu., Sto. Rep. 1053 D [ii, 222 Arn.]), but rather to have been living before that, in the separate life of the divine. It is nowhere expressly or authoritatively stated that Poseidonios held the “pre-existence” of the “soul”; but that view has been rightly attributed to him, fitting in as it does with his other ideas, and because it is often introduced and taken for granted in those passages where [519] Cicero or Seneca are following Pos. (see Corssen, de Pos. Rhod., p. 25 ff. But we may not read the doctrine of pre-existence into S.E., M. ix, 71, as Heinze, Xenok. 134, 2, does). If the soul-δαίμων was in existence before its incarnation it can presumably only enter the body with the conception of the individual life θύραθεν, tractus extrinsecus as Cic. puts it, Div. ii, 119; a passage obviously related (as Bonhöffer, Epikt. 79 remarks) to the statement in Div. i, 64, where he is speaking of the immortales animi of which the air is full—and there Pos. is mentioned by name as the authority. From its pre-existent life in the air the “soul” enters into man. The multitude of individual bodiless souls—not only the one impersonal soul-substance of the world—were thus living before their ἐνσωμάτωσις, and the Stoic pantheism thus turns into a rather questionable “pandaemonism”. On the other hand, Poseidonios in opposition to his teacher, Panaitios, adheres to the doctrine of the periodic extinction of all life in the one Soul of the World, the original Fire: cf. Dox. 388a, 18; b, 19. Holding this view he cannot very well have put the origin of each of the individual soul-daimones before the beginning of the particular world-period in which they live. Nor can the survival of the souls after their separation from the body be prolonged beyond the next ἐκπύρωσις (which makes Cicero’s immortales animi inexact: Div. i, 64, after Pos.). Thus, although the survival which Panaitios had denied is reaffirmed it does not go beyond the qualified doctrine of immortality which the older Stoics had held. At the same time Pos. could hold, with Chrysipp. and other Stoics, that there was a περιοδικὴ παλιγγενεσία (M. Ant. xi, 1) after the world-conflagration and even that each individual man of the previous world-period would be restored again in precisely the same place (Chrysipp. ap. Lact., Inst. 7, 23, 3, etc.; ii, 189 Arn.; cf. the Orphico-Pythagorean fantasy: above, chap. x, [n. 47]). But this would not amount to an ἀθανασία for the individual: the individual life has been interrupted and is separated from its ἀποκατάστασις by a long interval of time.—There is no satisfactory reason for assigning to Pos. the belief in a series of μετενσωματώσεις of the soul—as Heinze does, Xen. 132 ff.—though such an idea would not have been hard to arrive at, even while holding fast to the doctrine of the final ἐκπύρωσις. But the dubious accounts given by many δοξογράφοι of Stoic teaching on the question of the μεταγγισμὸς ψυχῶν need not necessarily refer to Poseidonios: nor are we bound to draw this conclusion because they reappear in Plutarch. Plu. does indeed here and there follow Poseidonios, but he never hesitates to add Platonic ideas or fancies of his own invention, a fact which makes it most risky to attempt to fix an exact source for any particular detail in his variegated mosaic.

[61] Schmekel (Phil. d. mittl. Stoa, 1892) maintains convincingly that Panaitios was led to his view of the nature and fate of the soul chiefly by the polemic of Karneades against the dogmatic philosophers and particularly the Stoics. It is less certain that Poseidonios and his heterodox views are influenced by respect for Karneades. It is certain, however, that Pos. differs from Chrysipp., and still more from Panaitios. There is thus an indirect connexion between him and Karneades, to whose criticisms Panaitios had in the most essential points given way.

[62] That Pos. is being used in the first book of Tusc. Disp. is admitted on all hands (as to the extent of that use conjecture may indeed be various). It is at least very possible in the case of Somn. Scip. (see Corssen, Pos. 40 ff.).—The attraction of such theories of immortality [520] remained an aesthetic one with Cicero (and probably among all the cultured of his age and social circle). Where he is not speaking rhetorically or in pursuance of a literary pose—in his letters esp.—he shows no trace of the conviction that he defends at other times with so much ardour (see Boissier, Rel. rom. d’Aug. aux Ant. i, 58 f.).

[63] οὐ κατὰ ψιλὴν παράταξιν, ἀλλὰ λελογισμένως καὶ σεμνῶς though not always quite ἀτραγῴδως (M. Ant. xi, 3).

[64] Julius Kanus when condemned to death by Gaius only attempts to enquire whether there is any truth in the belief in immortality: Sen., Tr. An. 14, 8–9. De natura animae et dissociatione spiritus corporisque inquirebat Thrasea Paetus, before his execution, with his instructor Demetrius the Cynic: Tac., A. xvi, 34. They have no firm conviction in these matters that might serve to explain or account for their heroism (Cato reads the Phaedo before his suicide: Plu., Cat. min. 68, 70).

[65] nos quoque felices animae et aeterna sortitae says the soul of her father to Marcia: Sen., C. ad Marc. 26, 7, in antiqua elementa vertemur at the ἐκπύρωσις.

[66] Sen., Ep. 88, 34.

[67] bellum somnium, Sen., Ep. 102, 2.

[68] Where Seneca admits more positive conceptions of a life after death he never goes beyond a fortasse, si modo vera sapientium fama est (Ep. 63, 16); a deliberate concession to the consensus hominum (Ep. 117, 6) or the opiniones magnorum virorum rem gratissimam promittentium magis quam probantium (Ep. 102, 3). Following the conventional style of consolatory discourses he gives such expressions a more vivid turn in the Consolationes: e.g. Marc. 25, 1 ff.; Helv. 11, 7; Polyb. 9, 8. But even there the idea of personal immortality hardly seems to be taken seriously. In the same pieces death is commended simply as putting an end to all pain, and, in fact, to all sensation: Marc. 19, 4–5. In death we become again as we were before being born, Marc. 19, 5; cf. Ep. 54, 4, mors est non esse, id quale sit iam scio. hoc erit post me quod ante me fuit; and Ep. 77, 11, non eris: nec fuisti. So that whether death is a finis or a transitus, (Prov. 6, 6; Ep. 65, 24), it is equally welcome to the wise man who has made the most of his life, however short it may have been. Whether he goes then to the gods or whether on the other hand nothing is left of the mortal creature after death aeque magnum animum habebit (Ep. 93, 10); cf. nunquam magis divinum est (pectus humanum) quam ubi mortalitatem suam cogitat, et scit in hoc natum hominem ut vita defungeretur cet., (Ep. 120, 14); ipsum perire non est magnum, anima in expedito est habenda (QN. 6, 32, 5); to be ready is everything.—Of the old Stoic dogmas the only one that seems to remain certain for Seneca is that of παλιγγενεσία at the new creation of the world, Ep. 36, 10–11: mors intermittit vitam, non eripit: venit iterum qui nos in lucem reponat dies; but that is not in any way a consolation: multi recusarent nisi oblitos reduceret. Consciousness ceases with the coming of death in this world-period.

[69] It is very rarely that the utterances of the Emperor on the subject of what happens after death resemble those of a convinced Stoic of the old school. The souls are all parts of the one νοερὰ ψυχή of the world which though extended over so many individual souls yet remains a unity (ix, 8; xii, 30). After death the individual soul will survive for a period in the air until it is merged into the universal soul εἰς τὸν τῶν ὅλων σπερματικὸν λόγον (iv, 21). This implies the survival of the personal self for an undefined period, but it is [521] not a fixed conviction of M. Ant. As a rule he allows the choice between σβέσις ἢ μετάστασις, i.e. immediate extinction and merging of the individual soul (Panait.) or its removal into a temporary abode of the souls in the air (αἱ εἰς τὸν ἀέρα μεθιστάμεναι ψυχαί, iv, 21; cf. v, 53). Or else the choice is between σβέσις, μετάστασις (both in agreement with the Stoic doctrine of the ἕνωσις of the soul) or σκεδασμός of the soul-elements, in case the atomists are right (vii, 32; viii, 25; vi, 24)—a dilemma which really comes down to σκεδασμός or σβέσις (= ληφθῆναι εἰς τοὺς κόσμου σπερματικοὺς λόγους); and μετάστασις falls out. This is probably the meaning also of x, 7: ἤτοι σκεδασμὸς στοιχείων ἢ τροπή (in which τὸ πνευματικόν disappears εἰς τὸ ἀερῶδες) and τροπή only of the last πνευματικόν that man preserves in himself: for here (at the end of the chapter) the identity of the individual soul with itself is given up in the Herakleitean manner (see above, [p. 370]). Sometimes the choice is presented between ἀναισθησία or ἕτερος βίος after death (iii, 3) or αἴσθησις ἑτεροία in an ἀλλοῖον ζῷον (viii, 58). This is no allusion to metempsychosis (in which the envelope into which the soul goes is another but its αἴσθησις does not become ἑτεροία): it means the turning of the soul-pneuma, exhaled in death, to new forms of life united to the previous forms by no identity of soul-personality. In this case we can indeed say τοῦ ζῆν οὐ παύσῃ: but there can be no idea of the survival of the personal ego. ἡ τῶν ὅλων φύσις exchanges and redistributes its elements; all things are changing (viii, 6; ix, 28). The Emperor never seriously thinks of the survival of personality; he seeks rather to inquire why things are as they are; but he never doubts that as a matter of fact even the noblest of mankind must also “go out” completely with death (xii, 5). Everything changes and one thing perishes to make way for another (xii, 21); and so each man must say to himself μετ’ οὐ πολὺ οὐδεὶς οὐδαμοῦ ἔσῃ (xii, 21; viii, 5). The wise man will say it with calmness: his soul is ἕτοιμος ἐὰν ἤδη ἀπολυθῆναι δέῃ τοῦ σώματος . . . xi, 3. Living among men to whom his way of thought is strange (ἐν τῇ διαφωνίᾳ τῆς συμβιώσεως) he sighs at times θᾶττον ἔλθοις, ὦ θάνατε . . . ix, 3; cf. Bonhöffer, Epikt. u. d. Stoa, 59 ff.

[70] I shall die without resisting God εἰδὼς ὅτι τὸ γενόμενον καὶ φθαρῆναι δεῖ. οὐ γάρ εἰμι αἰὼν ἀλλ’ ἄνθρωπος, μέρος τῶν πάντων ὡς ὥρα ἡμέρας· ἐνστῆναί με δεῖ ὡς τὴν ὥραν καὶ παρελθεῖν ὡς ὥραν, Epictet. ii, 5, 13. The present must make way for the future ἵν’ ἡ περίοδος ἀνύηται τοῦ κόσμου, ii, 17–18; iv, 1, 106. Death brings with it not complete destruction, οὐκ ἀπώλειαν, but τῶν προτέρων εἰς ἕτερα μεταβολάς, iii, 24, 91–4. But the personality of the now living individual does indeed perish completely in death.—Cf. Bonhöffer, Epiktet, 65 f.; cf. also the same author’s Ethik des Epiktet, p. 26 ff., 52 (1894).

[71] Cornutus ap. Stob., Ecl. i, 383, 24–384, 2 W.

[72] The ψυχή a σῶμα (the only ἀσώματον is empty space which is merely a passage way for the σώματα), D.L, x, 67 [p. 21 Us.]. It is a σῶμα λεπτομερές, παρ’ ὅλον τὸ ἄθροισμα (i.e. of atoms to a body) παρεσπαρμένον, προσεμφερέστατον δὲ πνεύματι θερμοῦ τινα κρᾶσιν ἔχοντι, D.L. x, 63. Cf. Lucr. iii, 126 ff.; more precise is iii, 231–46. It is the ἄθροισμα which τὴν ψυχὴν στεγάζει, D.L. x, 64. vas quasi constitit eius, Lucr. iii, 440, 555.

[73] Lucr. iii, 94 ff., 117 ff.

[74] The ἄλογον ὃ ἐν τῷ λοιπῷ παρέσπαρται σώματι, τὸ δὲ λογικὸν ἐν τῷ θώρακι, Sch. D.L. x, 67 (p. 21 Us.), fr. 312, 313 Us. anima and animus, Lucr. iii, 136 ff. The anima, though it is diminished [522] when the man loses his limbs (in which it inheres), yet allows him to remain alive. The animus, however, vitai claustra coercens, must not be diminished otherwise the anima escapes as well and the man dies: Lucr. iii, 396 ff. The animus with its perceptions is more independent of anima and corpus than they are of it: Lucr. iii, 145 ff.

[75] Lucr. iii, 421–4.

[76] Lucr. iii, 445 ff.

[77] The soul διασπείρεται, λυομένου τοῦ ὅλου ἀθροίσματος and cannot retain any αἴσθησις apart from its ἄθροισμα, D L. x, 65–6. The winds disperse it: Lucr. iii, 506 ff. καπνοῦ δίκην σκίδναται, Epicur. fr. 337. ceu fumus, Lucr. iii, 446–583.

[78] radicitus e vita se tollit et eicit, Lucr. iii, 877.

[79] Lucr. iii, 854–60; 847–53.

[80] οὐδὲ ταφῆς φροντιεῖν (τὸν σοφόν) fr. 578. Cf. Lucr. iii, 870 ff. The way in which the body, deserted by its soul, is buried or disposed of is of no consequence: Phld., Mort., p. 41–2 Mekl.

[81] D.L. x, 124–5.

[82] ὁ θάνατος οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς, τὸ γὰρ διαλυθὲν ἀναισθητεῖ, τὸ δὲ ἀναισθητοῦν οὐδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς, Ep., Sent. ii; D.L. x, 139 (p. 71 Us.). Frequently repeated: see Usen., p. 391 f.

[83] dolor and morbus, leti fabricator uterque, affect the soul too, Lucr. iii, 459 ff., 470 ff., 484 ff. Nothing that can be broken up into parts can be eternal; 640 ff., 667 ff. The chief argument: quod cum corpore nascitur, cum corpore intereat necesse est, Ep., fr. 336. (They are identical in part with the arguments which Karneades directed against the theory of the eternity and indestructibility of the highest ζῷον, God. Karn. must have got them from Epicurus.)

[84] Cf. Ep., Sent. xi, p. 73 f. Us.

[85] To be able to see μηδὲν πρὸς ἡμᾶς εἶναι τὸν θάνατον, ἀπόλαυστον ποιεῖ τὸ τῆς ζῳῆς θνητόν, οὐκ ἄπειρον προτιθεῖσα χρόνον ἀλλὰ τὸν τῆς ἀθανασίας ἀφελομένη πόθον, D.L. x, 123; cf. Metrod. (?), ed. Körte, p. 588, col. xvi.

[86] γεγόναμεν ἅπαξ, δὶς δὲ οὐκ ἔστι γενέσθαι κτλ. hence carpe diem! fr. 204; see also fr. 490–4. Metrod. fr. 53 K.

[87] D.L. x, 81.

[88] Against the fear of torment and punishment in the underworld: fr. 340–1, cf. Lucr. iii, 1011 ff. (torments such as those fabled of Hades exist in this world: iii, 978 ff.). Cf. the letter of the Epicurean Diogenes, Rh. Mus. 47, 428 . . . φοβοῦμαι γὰρ οὐδὲν (sc. τὸν θάνατον) διὰ τοὺς Τιτυοὺς καὶ τοὺς Ταντάλους οὓς ἀναγράφουσιν ἐν Ἅιδου τινές, οὐδὲ φρίττω τὴν μύδησιν (μήδησιν the stone) κτλ.

[89] metus ille foras praeceps Acheruntis agendus, funditus humanam qui vitam turbat ab imo, omnia suffundens mortis nigrore neque ullam esse voluptatem liquidam puramque reliquit, Lucr. iii, 37 ff.

[90] D.L. x, 126. ridiculum est currere ad mortem taedio vitae, fr. 496.

[91] artifex vitae, Sen. Ep. 90, 27.

[92] —σὺ δὲ τῆς αὔριον οὐκ ὢν κύριος ἀναβάλλῃ τὸν καιρόν· ὁ δὲ πάντων βίος μελλησμῷ παραπόλλυται . . . fr. 204.

[93] Negat Epicurus ne diuturnitatem quidem temporis ad beate vivendum aliquid afferre, nec minorem voluptatem percipi in brevitate temporis quam si sit illa sempiterna, Cic., Fin. ii, 87; cf. Ep., Sent. xix (p. 75 Us.). χρόνον οὐ τὸν μήκιστον ἀλλὰ τὸν ἥδιστον καρπίζεται (ὁ σοφός): D.L. x, 126.—quae mala nos subigit vitai tanta cupido, Lucr. iii, 1077. eadem sunt omnia semper, 945. [523]

[94] ἡ διάνοια . . . τὸν παντελῆ βίον παρεσκεύασεν καὶ οὐδὲν ἔτι τοῦ ἀπείρου χρόνου προσεδεήθη, Sent. xx (p. 75 Us.).

[95] οὐκ ἔστι φυσικὴ κοινωνία τοῖς λογικοῖς πρὸς ἀλλήλους.—sibi quemque consulere, fr. 523. Aloofness from ταῖς τῶν πληθῶν ἀρχαῖς frr. 554, 552, 9.

[96] οἱ νόμοι χάριν τῶν σοφῶν κεῖνται, οὐχ ὅπως μὴ ἀδικῶσιν, ἀλλ’ ὅπως μὴ ἀδικῶνται, fr. 530.

[97] οὐκέτι δεῖ σῴζειν τοὺς Ἕλληνας, οὐδ’ ἐπὶ σοφίᾳ στεφάνων παρ’ αὐτοῖς τυγχάνειν . . . Metrod. fr. 41.

CHAPTER XIV
PART II
POPULAR BELIEF

Philosophic teaching and the philosophic outlook were at this time by no means confined exclusively to the narrow circles dominated by particular schools. Never more widely or more effectively than in this Hellenistic period did philosophy in one shape or another provide the basis and common medium of a culture that no one of moderate wealth and leisure would willingly be without. Such ideas as educated people of the time generally possessed, dealing in a more connected and definite form with the things of this life and existence that lie beyond the scope of immediate perception, were all drawn from the teaching of philosophy. To a certain extent this is true also of the current views as to the nature and destiny of the soul. But in the region of the unknowable philosophy can never entirely replace or suppress the natural—the irrational beliefs—of mankind. Such beliefs were in their natural element in dealing with such subjects. They influenced even the philosophically enlightened and their authority was supreme with the many who in every age are incapable of understanding the disinterested search for knowledge. Even in this supreme period of universal philosophic culture, popular beliefs about the soul still remained in force, unmodified by the speculations or the exhortations of philosophers.

They had their roots—these beliefs—not in any form of speculative thought but in the practice of the Cult of Souls: and that Cult, as it has been described[1] for an earlier stage of Greek life, still went on unaltered and with undiminished vigour. This may be asserted with confidence, though we can produce no very important evidence from the literature of this later period. The character and content of that literature is such that we should hardly expect to find such evidence in it. But for the most part the literary evidence from which we were able to illustrate the Cult of Souls in an earlier period may be taken to apply equally to the age with which we are now dealing. Even in its final years Lucian’s pamphlet On Mourning bears express witness to the survival of the ancient and sanctified usages in their fullest compass. We hear again of the washing, anointing, [525] and crowning of the dead, the ceremonious lying-in-state upon the bier, the violent and extravagant lament over the dead body, and all the traditional customs that are still in full force. Last comes the solemn interment of the body—the articles of luxury burnt together with the corpse of the dead man or buried with him in the grave—articles that had once belonged to him and which he is supposed to enjoy even in death—the feeding of the helpless soul of the dead with libations of wine and burnt-offerings—the ritual fasting of the relatives only broken, after three days, in the Banquet of the Dead.[2]

The dead man must not be deprived of a single one of “the customary things”—only so can his well-being be fully secured.[3] The most important of these is the solemn interment of the body. This is carried out not only by the family of the dead man, but in many cases also by the society to which he may have belonged.[4] In these times when the cities sought to make up for the loss of more serious interests in their life by an often touching care for the immediate and the insignificant, deserving citizens were frequently honoured with elaborate funeral processions in which the municipality took part;[5] the city fathers would then probably decree that representatives should be sent to the survivors and commissioned to express the sympathy of the city in their loss and distract their minds from their grief by a speech.[6]

The ritual act of burial, the object of so much pious zeal, was the very reverse of the indifferent matter that philosophy loved to represent it.[7] The sanctity of the place where rests the dead is also a matter of great importance, not only for the dead man himself but for the rest of the family which desires to be still united in the life of the spirit world, and so inhabits a common burial-ground (generally outside the city, very rarely within,[8] but sometimes, even yet, actually inside the house).[9] The founder of a family-grave desires the members of it to be joined together in the same grave for at least three generations.[10] Those who have a right to be buried there take steps—religious and legal or municipal—against the profanation of this family tomb and sanctuary by the burying in it of strangers or the pillaging of the vault—a practice that became increasingly common in the final period of the antique world.[11] There are innumerable grave-notices threatening money penalties in accordance with the ancient law of the city, to be paid into the public treasury by those who violate the peace of the grave.[12] No less common are the inscriptions which place the grave and its sanctity [526] under the protection of the underworld deities, invoking at the same time the most shocking curses—torments and calamities both temporal and eternal—against profaners of the holiness of the tomb.[13] Especially the inhabitants of certain districts of Asia Minor, only very superficially Hellenized, give themselves free rein in the accumulation of such violent execrations. In their case the dark superstitions of ancestral and native worship of gods or spirits may have infected the Hellenes also—it is often the Greeks who become barbarian rather than the barbarians who are Hellenized in the history of Greek relations with these stubborn and barbarous native populations.[14] But even in lands where the Greek population has maintained itself without admixture such execrations are occasionally to be found in graves.

As time went on and the sanctity and peace of the grave began to be more and more seriously threatened, measures of all kinds were taken for its protection. The grave is no mere chamber of corruption; the souls of the dead dwell there,[15] and therefore is it holy; as a sanctuary it becomes completely sanctified when it has received the last member of the family, and is enclosed for ever.[16] The family so long as it lasts continues to pay the regular Soul-Cult to its ancestors;[17] sometimes special foundations ensure the payment for ever[18] of the Soul-Cult of which the dead have need.[19] Even those whose burial place lies far away from the graves of their own family[20] are not entirely deprived of benevolent care and cult.

The pre-supposition of all Cult of Souls—that the dead survive to enjoy at least a gloomy sepulchral existence in their last resting-place—is everywhere vividly implied. It speaks to us with archaic simplicity from those grave-stones upon which the dead, as though still accessible to the sounds of the human voice and able to understand the words of the living, are addressed with the customary words of greeting.[21] Sometimes the dead man himself is provided with a similar greeting which he is supposed to address to the passers-by[22]—between him, confined to his grave, and the others who still walk about in the daylight a dialogue takes place.[23] The dead man is not entirely cut off from the affairs of the upper world. He feels an access of fresh life when he is called by the name that he had once borne in his life-time, and the memory of which is now preserved only by his gravestone. His fellow-citizens call upon him three times by name at his burial;[24] but even in the grave [527] he is capable of hearing the precious sound. On a gravestone at Athens[25] the dead man enjoins upon the members of the actors’ guild to which he had belonged to call upon his name in chorus whenever they pass by his grave, and to gladden him with the sound of hand-clapping, to which he had been accustomed in life. At other times the passer-by “kisses his hand”[26] to the dead man; a gesture which denotes the honour paid to a Hero.[27] The soul is not merely alive; it belongs now, as primitive and age-long belief expressed it, to the Higher and Mightier Ones.[28] Perhaps this exaltation of the wrath and power of the dead is the meaning of the custom by which the dead are called the Good, the Honest (χρηστοί). This usage must have become established at an early period,[29] but it is not until these later days that it is first employed as an addition to the simple words of greeting addressed to the dead on gravestones. In this use it is not uniformly current; it is rare in Attica (at least, on graves of natives of that country); whereas in Boeotia, Thessaly, and the countries of Asia Minor it is frequent and almost universal.[30] In fact it is natural to suppose[31] that this mode of address, originally a euphemistic title addressed to the ghosts of the dead who were conceived as quite capable of acting in a manner the very reverse of that attributed to them by the word, was intended to suggest the power belonging to the personality so addressed as one who has risen to a higher form of existence—and to venerate him with becoming awe.[32]