This meeting of the two doctrines was not an effect of chance. The idea

that souls are related to the celestial fires, whence they descend at

birth and whither they reascend at death, had probably been borrowed by

the ancient Pythagoreans from the astral religions of the East. Recent

research seems to have established the fact of its Chaldeo-Persian

origin. But the Greek philosophers, according to their wont, defined and

developed this idea in an original way. In the Hellenistic period, when

they adopted astrology, they were subject for the second time to the

ascendancy of the scientific religion of the “Chaldeans”; and, in their

turn, they reacted on the Oriental cults when these spread in the

Graeco-Roman world. We have sure evidence that the mysteries of Mithras

were, in particular, strongly affected by the influence of the

Pythagorean sect, which was itself organised like a kind of mystery. In

a more general way, philosophy introduced into the mysteries ethical

ideas and, instead of the purely ritualistic or rather magical means of

salvation, some moral requirements became necessary to earn immortality.

There is here a mass of actions and reactions of which the details

escape us; but we can form some idea of such a syncretism from the

remains of the theological writings attributed to Hermes Trismegistus,

from the writings, that is, which are supposed to contain the

revelations of the Egyptian god Thot. This professedly Egyptian wisdom

includes a number of ideas and definitions which are characteristic of

Posidonius and Neo-Pythagorism. The Greek and the Egyptian elements are

so closely associated in it that it is very difficult to separate the

one from the other. We find another example of the same mixture in the

“Chaldaic Oracles,” which were probably composed about the year 200 of

our era and which became one of the sacred books of Neo-Platonism.

Unlike the Hermetic writings, this collection of verses does indeed seem

to have belonged to a sect practising an actual cult: its greater part

is taken up with mythology, and the fantastic mysticism of the East is

more prominent here than in the Hermetic lore, but the mind of the

compiler of these revelations was also penetrated by the ideas which the

Greek masters had widely circulated.

The tenet of astral immortality, which philosophy shared with the cults

emanating from Syria and Persia, imposed itself on the ancient world. It

is curious to notice how it was introduced into the theology of the very

mysteries to which it was at first foreign: Attis ended by becoming a

solar god, and thenceforward it was in the heights of heaven that Cybele

was united to the souls she had prevented from wandering in darkness and

had saved from hell. The priests of the Alexandrian divinities were

similarly to explain that the dead had not their dwelling in the

interior of our globe, but that the “subterranean” (ὑπόγειος) kingdom of

Serapis was situated beneath the earth, that is, in the lower hemisphere

of heaven, bounded by the line of the horizon.[95]

According as the Oriental religions were more largely propagated, faith

in a new eschatology spread gradually among the people; and although

memories and survivals of the old belief in the life of the dead in the

grave and the shade’s descent into the infernal depths may have

lingered, the doctrine which predominated henceforward was that of

celestial immortality.

The distance separating the age of Augustus from that of the Flavians on

this point can be measured by reading Plutarch’s moral works (about 120

A. D.). A constant preoccupation with religious matters, and in

particular a learned curiosity as to the cults of the East, shows itself

in this Greek of Chaeronea, living in a country which, in its pride in

its own past, had more than any other resisted the invasion of

exoticism. Further, the eclectic philosopher likes to insert in his

dissertations myths in which, after the fashion of Plato, he expounds

the lot of souls in the Beyond and their struggle to rise heavenwards.

An attempt has been made to prove—wrongly, I think—that he is here

inspired by Posidonius. These apocalyptic visions, which claim to reveal

truths previously ignored, are not taken from that well-known writer;

they have a religious imprint which betrays sacerdotal influence, and

the philosophic ideas they contain are those which were part of the

common wisdom of the Pythagoreans and the mysteries.

There doubtless still were in the second century Stoics, like the

Emperor Marcus Aurelius, for whom the future life was a mere hypothesis,

or at most a hope (p. 14), as well as sceptics, like Lucian of Samosata,

whose irony mocked all beliefs. But gradually their number diminished

and the echo of their voices grew feebler. Faith in survival deepened as

present life came to seem a burden harder and harder to bear. The

pessimistic idea that birth is a chastisement and that the true life is

not that passed on earth, imposed itself in proportion to the growth of

public and private ills and to the aggravation of the empire’s social

and moral decline. In the period of violence and devastation which

occurred in the third century, there was so much undeserved suffering,

there were so many unjust failures and unpunished crimes, that men took

refuge in the expectation of a better life in which all the iniquity of

this world would be retrieved. No earthly hope then brightened life. The

tyranny of a corrupt bureaucracy stifled every attempt at political

progress. Science seemed exhausted and no longer discovered unknown

truths; art was struck with sterility of invention and reproduced

heavily the creations of the past. An increasing impoverishment and a

general insecurity constantly discouraged the spirit of enterprise. The

idea spread that humanity was smitten by incurable decay, that society

was on the road to dissolution and the end of the world was impending.

All these causes of discouragement and pessimism must be remembered in

order to understand the dominance of the old idea, then so often

repeated, that a bitter necessity constrains the spirit of man to

enclose itself in matter, and that death is a liberation which delivers

it from its carnal prison. In the heavy atmosphere of a period of

oppression and powerlessness, the despondent souls of men aspired with

ineffable ardour to the radiant spaces of heaven.

* * * * *

The mental evolution of Roman society was complete when Neo-Platonism

took upon itself the office of directing minds. The powerful mysticism

of Plotinus (205–262 A. D.) opened up the path which Greek philosophy

was to follow until the world of antiquity reached its end. We shall not

undertake to notice in this place the discrepancies of the latest

teachers who theorised about the destiny of souls. In the course of

these lectures we shall have occasion to quote some of the opinions of

Porphyry, the chief disciple of Plotinus, and of his successor

Jamblichus, who was, like himself, a Syrian. We will here do no more

than indicate broadly what distinguished the theories of this school

from those which had hitherto been dominant.

The system generally accepted, by the mysteries as by philosophy, was a

pantheism according to which divine energy was immanent in the universe

and had its home in the celestial spheres. The souls, conceived as

material, could in consequence rise to the stars but did not leave the

world. The Neo-Pythagoreans themselves had not had a very firmly

established doctrine on this point: while some of them stated that

reason was incorporeal, others, as we have seen (p. 24), admitted with

the Stoics that it was an igneous substance. It is true that even in

paganism the appearance can be discerned of the belief in a Most High

(Ὕψιστος) or an unknown god Ἄγνωστος, whom some people supposed to dwell

above the starry heavens, beyond the limits of the world, and towards

whom pious spirits could rise. The revivers of Platonic idealism

asserted the transcendence of God and the spirituality of the soul more

strongly and clearly. A whole chapter of the _Enneades_ of Plotinus is

taken up with refuting those who held the soul to be material.[96] As a

principle of life and movement, it is stated to be immortal by its very

essence, so that if it kept its purity perfect, it would find after its

passage here below eternal felicity in the intelligible world.

The Neo-Platonists preserved the idea, which had previously been

admitted, that this intellectual essence comes down to earth through the

planetary spheres and the atmosphere, and that as it sinks in the

luminous ether and the damp air, it becomes laden with particles of the

elements through which it passes. It surrounds itself with a garment or,

as it is sometimes called, with a vehicle (ὄχημα) which thickens as it

gradually draws near us.[97] This subtle body, the seat of the passions

and of feeling, is intermediary between the spiritual principle which

has issued from God and the flesh in which it is to enclose itself, and

for certain philosophers it survives death and accompanies the soul to

the Beyond, at least if the soul, not being free from earthly admixture,

cannot wholly leave the world of sense, and therefore rises only to the

planetary circle or to that of the fixed stars.

When the soul has suffered even more from the taint to which its contact

with matter, the source of evil, exposes it, it is doomed to reincarnate

itself in a new body and again to undergo the trial of this life. When

it has become incurably corrupt and burdened with evil, it goes down

into the depths of Hades.

Following Plato, Plotinus and his successors have adopted the

Pythagorean doctrine of metempsychosis. They have even developed it, as

we shall see,[98] together with the whole pessimistic and ascetic

conception of life, the conception which looks at birth as a pain and a

fall, a temporary subjection to a body from which emancipation must be

sought. It is only after this liberation that the soul can reach perfect

wisdom; it must no longer be troubled by the senses if it is to attain

to the end of existence, to union with God.

This union can be realised even during this life in moments of ecstasy,

in which the soul rises above thought and gives itself up entirely to

love for the ineffable Unity in which it is absorbed. Like many other

mystics, Plotinus disdains the ceremonies of positive cults: they were

superfluous to the sage who could of himself enter into communion with

the supreme Being. But even his disciple Porphyry conceded a greater

value to rites and initiations. If they were powerless to lead the

partakers of mysteries to the highest degree of perfection, their effect

yet was to render men worthy to live among the visible gods who people

heaven.[99] But only philosophical wisdom could rise to the intelligible

world and the Unknowable.

The principle of a mystical relation between man and the divinity was to

lead Neo-Platonism to more and more reverence for religious traditions.

For it was held that in the past the revelation of truth had been

granted by Heaven not only to divine Plato and the sages of Greece, but

to all the founders of barbarous cults and authors of sacred writings.

They all communicated profound teaching, which they sometimes hid

beneath the veil of allegory. Inspired by the symbolism of the

Pythagoreans, the last representatives of Greek philosophy claimed to

rediscover the whole of Platonic metaphysics and the Platonic doctrine

of immortality in the myths and rites of paganism. The speeches of

Julian the Apostate on the Sun-King and the Mother of the Gods are

characteristic examples of this bold exegesis, destitute of all critical

and even all common sense, which was adopted by the last champions of

the old beliefs.

* * * * *

These aberrations of Neo-Platonic thought must not hide the school’s

historical importance from us, any more than the excesses of the

superstitious theurgy which invaded it. When it revived Plato’s

idealism, it produced a lasting change in the eschatological ideas which

prevailed in paganism, and it deeply influenced even the Christian

doctrines of immortality held since the fourth century. This will be

better seen, we hope, in the course of these lectures.[100] It may be

said that the conception of the lot of souls which reigned at the end of

antiquity persisted on the whole through the Middle Ages—the immaterial

spirits of the just rising through the planetary spheres to the Supreme

Being enthroned above the zone of the fixed stars; the posthumous

purification of those whom life has sullied in a purgatory intermediary

between heaven and hell; the descent of the wicked into the depths of

the earth where they suffered eternal chastisement. This threefold

division of the universe and of souls was largely accepted at the time

of the Empire’s decline by pagans and by Christians, and after long

centuries it was again to find magnificent expression in Dante’s “Divine

Comedy.” Before it could be destroyed astronomy had to destroy the whole

cosmography of Posidonius and Ptolemy on which it was based. When the

earth ceased to be the centre of the universe, the one fixed point in

the midst of the moving circles of the skies, and became a tiny planet

turning round another heavenly body, which itself moved in the immensity

of space, among an infinity of similar stars, the naïve conception

formed by the ancients of the journey of souls in a well-enclosed world

could no longer be maintained. The progress of science discredited the

convenient solution bequeathed to scholasticism by antiquity, and left

us in the presence of a mystery of which the pagan mysteries never had

even a suspicion.

I

AFTER LIFE IN THE TOMB

When Cicero in his _Tusculans_[101] first touches on the question of the

immortality of the soul, he begins by citing in its support the fact

that belief in it has existed since earliest antiquity. He states that

unless the first Romans were convinced that man was not reduced to

nought, when he left this life, and that all feeling was not

extinguished in death, there could be no explanation of the rules of the

old pontifical law as to funerals and burials, rules the violation of

which was regarded as an inexpiable crime. This remark is that of a very

judicious observer. There subsist in the funeral rites of all peoples,

in the ceremony of mourning established by the religious law or by

tradition, customs which derive from archaic conceptions of life beyond

the tomb and which are still followed although their original meaning is

no longer understood. Modern learning has sometimes successfully sought

to elucidate them, borrowing light from the practices of savage peoples

and from European folk-lore. We will not enter the domain of these

researches, for since our special purpose here is to expound the ideas

as to immortality held in later times, we have to consider only the

beliefs which were still alive in that period. A false interpretation

supplied by a philosopher may have more historical value for us than the

true explanation of an institution which had lost its meaning.

But even among the ideas which were neither obliterated nor discredited,

conceptions which originated at very different dates have to be

distinguished.

The doctrines of paganism, like the soil of our planet, are formed of

superimposed strata. When we dig into them we discover successive layers

under the upper deposits of recent alluvia. Nothing was suddenly

destroyed in ancient religions; their transformations were never

revolutionary. Faith in the past was not entirely abolished when new

ways of believing were formed. Contradictory opinions could exist side

by side for a long time without any shock being caused by their

disagreement; and it was only little by little and slowly that argument

excluded one way of thinking to give place to the other, while there

were always hardy survivals left, both in thought and in customs. Thus

the beliefs as to the future life which were current under the Roman

Empire present a singular mixture, coarse ideas going back to the

prehistoric period mingling with theories imported into Italy at a late

date.

We will today examine the oldest of all the ways of considering survival

in the Beyond: life in the tomb.

* * * * *

Ethnology has proved that among all peoples the belief that the dead

continue to live in the tomb has reigned, and sometimes still reigns.

The primitive man, disconcerted by death, cannot persuade himself that

the being who moved, felt, willed, as he does, can be suddenly deprived

of all his faculties. The most ancient and the crudest idea is that the

corpse itself keeps some obscure sensitiveness which it cannot manifest.

It is imagined to be in a state like sleep. The vital energy which

animated the body is still attached to it and cannot exist without it.

This belief was so powerful in Egypt that it inspired a whole section of

the funeral ritual and called forth the infinite care that was taken to

preserve mummies. Even in the West it survived vaguely, and traces of it

might still be discovered today. Lucretius combats this invincible

illusion of men who, even while they affirm that death extinguishes all

feeling, keep a secret uneasiness as to the suffering which their mortal

remains may undergo and are frightened by the idea that their bodies may

be eaten by worms or carnivorous animals. They cannot separate

themselves from this prone body, which they believe is still their self.

Why, continues the poet, would it be more painful to be the prey of wild

beasts than to be burnt by the flame of the pyre, to freeze lying on the

icy slab of the grave or to be crushed by the weight of heaped-up

earth?[102] This very fear that the earth may weigh heavily on those who

are deposited in the grave shows itself among many peoples who inter

their dead, and was expressed in Rome by a formula so very usual that it

was recalled in epitaphs by initials only: “_S(it) t(ibi) t(erra)

l(evis)_,” “May earth be light for thee.” Until the Empire Stoic

philosophers could be found who upheld that the soul endures only for

the time for which the body is preserved.[103]

But experience proved that the corpse decomposed rapidly in the soil,

all that remained of it being a skeleton bereft of the organs of

sensation. When the custom of incineration, followed in Italy from the

prehistoric period, became practically general in Rome, the destruction

of the body took place regularly before the eyes of those present. Thus

men reached the belief that those near and dear to them, whom they

sometimes saw again in their dreams or seemed to feel beside them, who

were kept alive at least in memory, differed from the beings of flesh

and bones whom they had known. From those material individuals subtle

elements detached themselves, filled with a mysterious force which

subsisted when the human organism had crumbled to dust or been reduced

to ashes. It was this same principle which temporarily departed from

persons who lost consciousness in a faint or a lethargy. If this light

essence did not leave a dying man at the moment of his death—whether or

not it could escape from his body immediately was indeed uncertain—it

was set free by the funeral fire,[104] but it still inhabited the tomb

in which his remains rested. The idea that it was somehow attached to

his remains had taken root in men’s minds, and even literature bears

witness to the persistence of this deeply implanted popular belief.

Propertius,[105] when cursing a woman, desires that “her Manes may not

be able to settle near her ashes.” And at Liternum in Campania, where

Scipio Africanus caused himself to be buried because, as he said, he did

not wish to leave even his bones to his ungrateful country, the grotto

was shown where he rested and where, so men believed,[106] “a serpent

kept guard over his Manes.”

This primitive conception of the persistence of a latent life in the

cold and rigid corpse or of its passage to a vaporous being like the

body, is connected with the belief that the dead retain all the needs

and feelings which were previously theirs. The funeral cult, celebrated

at the tomb, is born of this belief. It proceeds from fear as much as

from piety, for the dead are prone to resentment and quick in vengeance.

The unknown force which inhabits them, the mysterious power which causes

them to act, inspired great awe. If the natural course of their

existence had been interrupted, especially if they had died before their

time, they were suspected of being victims of some mischievous

enchantment; their sickness was looked upon as an invasion of maleficent

spirits provoked by spells. The wrath of those who had thus been torn

from their homes and their wonted way of life was to be dreaded. Loud

outbursts of grief followed by prolonged manifestations of mourning must

prove to them, in the first place, that they were truly lamented and

that no attempt had been made to get rid of them. Then, in their new

abode to which they were conveyed, they must be ensured a bearable

existence, in order that they might remain therein quietly and not

trouble their families nor punish, by some intrusion, those who

neglected them. Solicitude for the beloved, the desire to prevent their

suffering, the hope of obtaining their protection, partly account for

the origin and maintenance of these practices, but they were above all

inspired by the terror which spirits called forth, as is proved by the

fact that they were the same for all the departed without distinction,

for those who had been loved and those who had been hated.

After Life in Roman Paganism · 第 4 / 19 段