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.