Like modern spiritualists, the ancients saw in these apparitions an

irrefutable proof of the after life. “Thou who doubtest the existence of

the Manes,” we read on the tomb of two young girls, “invoke us after

making a vow and thou wilt understand.”[152] Revelations were indeed to

be expected of the wisdom of the disincarnate souls. In spite,

therefore, of the laws forbidding magic, necromancy never ceased to be

practised. By a nocturnal sacrifice, analogous to that offered on tombs

(p. 52) and by the virtue of their incantations, the wizards obliged the

dead to appear before them and answer their questions. The poets and

romancers liked to introduce in their works descriptions of the

atrocious ceremonies which were intended to give momentary life even to

a corpse and cause it to pronounce oracles.

The dead in these scenes often appear as restive and even hostile beings

who were forced to such actions by the power of witchcraft. The dominant

feeling among all peoples is indeed that the dead are unhappy and

therefore malevolent. They were believed to be excessively sensitive:

great care must be taken to do nothing to offend them. If their rights

were overlooked, if they were forgotten, they showed their wrath by

sending illnesses and scourges to the guilty. This unpleasant and

sometimes cruel, even ferocious character of the Manes is very marked in

Rome, perhaps in consequence of the influence of the Etruscans or the

beliefs concerning after life. A legend had it that the ceremonies of

the _Parentalia_ having on one occasion been omitted, the plaintive

ghosts scattered about the town and the fields and caused many

deaths.[153] What we know of the rites performed at the _Lemuria_ and at

funerals shows that they tended to protect the house against the spirits

haunting it and to rid it of them. “The dead are welcome neither to the

gods nor to men,” says an old Latin inscription.[154] To the family

_Lares_ who protected a household, the _larvae_ were opposed, the

wandering phantoms who spread terror and evil. “Spare thy mother, thy

father and thy sister,” we read on a tomb, “in order that after me they

may celebrate the traditional rites for thee.”[155] This hostile

character attributed to inhabitants of the tombs explains the custom of

placing in them leaden tablets on which curses were written calling down

the most frightful ills on enemies. A large number of these _tabellae

defixionum_ in Greek and Latin have been found and they prove the

frequency of this practice, which has perhaps an Oriental origin.[156]

But the _devotio_ to the Manes gods is an old Roman ceremony, which

proceeds from the idea that they endeavour to tear the living from the

earth and draw them to themselves.

* * * * *

There is one class of the dead which is peculiarly noxious, those namely

who have not been buried. The ideas connected with them are so

characteristic of the oldest conception of immortality that these ἄταφοι

_insepulti_ deserve to detain us for a few moments.

From the most ancient times the beliefs reigned among all the peoples of

antiquity that the souls of those who are deprived of burial find no

rest in the other life. If they have no “eternal house” they are like

homeless vagabonds. But the fact that the dead had been buried did not

suffice; their burial must also have been performed according to the

traditional rites. Perhaps the liturgical formulas were supposed to have

power to keep the shade in the tomb, as other incantations could summon

it thence. Above all, however, it was believed, as we have already

stated, that when the dead had not obtained the offerings to which they

had the right, they suffered and that their unquiet spirits fluttered

near the corpse and wandered upon the surface of the earth and the

waters, taking vengeance on men for the ills men had inflicted on them.

The denial of interment was thought to be the source of infinite torment

for the dead as for the living, and to throw earth on abandoned corpses

was a pious duty. The pontiffs, who believed the sight of a corpse made

them unclean, might not for all that leave it unburied if they happened

to find one on their way. To bury the dead has remained a work of mercy

in the Church, and in Rome a confraternity still exists which brings in

from far away the dead found lying in the desert Campagna. The pain

represented by lack of burial was the worst chastisement called down by

imprecations on enemies on whom vengeance was desired. Among believers

it gave rise to an anxiety comparable with that which the refusal of the

last sacrament now causes to Roman Catholics. In the Greek cities, as in

Rome, the law often condemned to it those who had committed suicide or

had been executed, hoping thus to divert desperate and outrageous men

from their fatal design by the apprehension of a wretched lot in the

Beyond.[157] Sometimes the law merely laid down that the guilty must not

be interred in the soil of their country, an almost equally terrible

penalty, since it cut them off from the family cult, by which their

descendants could give satisfaction to their Manes. When, therefore,

through some accident, a traveller or soldier died abroad or was

shipwrecked at sea, his body was, when possible, brought back to his

country, or, if this could not be done, a cenotaph was raised to him,

and his soul was summoned aloud to come and inhabit the dwelling

prepared for it. When cremation became general in Rome, the old

pontifical law invented another subterfuge which allowed the ancient

rites to be accomplished: a finger was cut from the body before it was

carried to the pyre, and earth was thrown three times on this “resected

bone” (_os resectum_).

Against these ancient beliefs, which were the source of so much anguish

and so many superstitions, the philosophers fought energetically. First

the Cynics and then the Epicureans and the Stoics endeavoured to show

their absurdity. They are fond of quoting the answer of Theodore the

Atheist to Lysimachus who was threatening him with death without

burial—“What matters it whether I rot on the earth or under it?” Since

the corpse was unconscious and without any sensibility, it was indeed of

no consequence whether it were burnt or buried, eaten by worms or by

crows. Why should it be a misfortune to die abroad? Only the living had

a country; the whole earth was the dwelling of the dead. If such cares

troubled men they were the victims of the invincible illusion that the

body retained capacity to feel even beyond the grave.

The very frequency with which these commonplaces of the school are

repeated shows how tenacious were the prejudices which they attempted to

eradicate. Here, as in other connections, the renewal of Pythagorism

supervened at the end of the Republic to favour the persistence of the

old beliefs. A doctrine, to which Plato alludes,[158] taught that souls

which had not been appeased by funeral rites, had to wander for a

hundred years, the normal term of a human life. Confined in the air near

the earth, they remained subject to the power of magicians. Especially

if the wizards had been able to obtain possession of some portion of the

corpse, whence the soul could not entirely detach itself, they gained

influence over it and could constrain its obedience. When this century

of suffering had elapsed, these souls were admitted to a place of

purification, where they sojourned ten times longer, and when these

thousand years had passed they returned to reincarnate themselves in new

bodies. We will see in another lecture[159] that the Pythagoreans

enunciated analogous theories as to the lot of children swept off before

their time and of men who died a violent death.

Virgil describing the descent of Aeneas into the infernal regions

recalls these Pythagorean speculations when he shows us the miserable

crowd of the unburied shades fluttering for a hundred years on the bank

of the Styx before they obtained from Charon their passage to its other

shore.[160]

Favoured by these new tendencies of philosophy, the unreasoning

apprehension inspired by omission of burial subsisted under the Empire,

not only among the ignorant many, but also in the most enlightened

classes. This fear explains why everyone took extreme care to have a

tomb built for himself and to ensure, if he could, that funeral

ceremonies were celebrated in it, why many epitaphs threaten with

judicial penalties and divine punishments the sacrilegious offenders who

should violate the grave, and why such a number of popular colleges were

founded, of which the principal object was to secure decent obsequies to

their members. The rules of the _cultores_ of Diana and Antinoüs at

Lanuvium stipulate that when a slave dies and his master maliciously

refuses to deliver his body for burial, a “_funus imaginarium_” be made

for him, that is, that the ceremony be celebrated over a figure

representing the dead man and wearing his mask.[161] From this

“imaginary” burial effects were expected as beneficent as those results

are maleficent which a wizard anticipated when he fettered and pierced a

waxen doll to work a charm.

From the stories of the gravest writers we perceive what lot was

believed to threaten the unfortunate who were burnt or interred without

the rites being observed. After Caligula’s murder his corpse was hastily

shovelled into the ground in a garden on the Esquiline (_horti

Lamiani_), but then the keepers of this park were terrified by

apparitions until the imperial victim’s sisters caused his body to be

exhumed, and buried it in accordance with the sacred rules.[162] Pliny

the Younger in one of his letters seriously relates a story which seems

to have been often repeated, for we find it, little changed, in

Lucian.[163] There was in Athens a haunted house which remained empty,

no one daring to live in it because several of its tenants had died of

fright. In the silence of the night a noise was heard as of clanking

iron; then a horrible spectre moved forward in the shape of an emaciated

old man, bearded and hairy, rattling the chains which were about his

feet and legs. A philosopher dared to take this house, and he settled

himself there one evening, resolved to keep himself awake by working.

The ghost appeared to him, came towards him with its usual clatter,

signed to him to follow and disappeared in the courtyard. When daylight

came, a hole was dug in the place where the phantom had vanished, and a

skeleton in fetters was found. The bones were taken up and burned

according to the rites, and thereafter nothing troubled the quiet of the

house. Lucian, in his version of this ghost story, specifies the

philosopher as a Pythagorean and shows him repelling the apparition by

the virtue of his spells. The Pythagoreans were indeed often

necromancers, convinced defenders of spiritualism, in which, as we have

said (p. 62), they sought an immediate proof of the immortality of the

soul, and by their doctrines they contributed to keeping alive the

superstitious fear attached to omission of burial.

But they were no more than theorists as to a belief which was widespread

and which the invasion of Oriental magic was to revive. The

curse-tablets often evoke, together with other demons, “those who are

deprived of a sacred tomb” (ἄποροι τῆς ἱερᾶς ταφῆς).[164] They associate

them with those who have died before their time or by a violent

death.[165] Heliodorus[166] the romancer, a priest of Emesa in Syria,

who probably lived in the third century, pictures for us a very

characteristic scene: a child has been killed; a wizard takes its body,

places it between two fires, and performs a complicated operation over

it, in order to restore it to life by his incantations and to obtain a

prediction of the future. “Thou forcest me to rise again and to speak,”

the child complains, “taking no thought for my funeral and thus

preventing me from mingling with the other dead.” For the shades of the

nether world rejected one who had been left unburied.[167]

These ancient beliefs, which the East shared with the West, were, more

or less modified, to survive the downfall of paganism. If the Christians

of the first centuries no longer feared that they would go to join the

shades who wandered on the bank of the Styx, they were still pursued by

the superstitious dread that they would have no part in the resurrection

of the flesh if their bodies did not rest in the grave.[168] Nay, the

terrors of former ages still haunt the Greeks of today. The people

remain persuaded that those who have not had a religious funeral return

to wander on the earth, and that, changed to bloody vampires, they

punish men, and in particular their kin, for their neglect.[169] A

nomocanon of the Byzantine Church orders that if the body of a ghost be

found intact, when disinterred, its maleficent power thus being proved,

it be burnt and a funeral service with an offering of meats be

afterwards celebrated for its soul. This is exactly what was done in

antiquity in order to appease the dead who had not been buried according

to the rite, _rite conditi_.

II

THE NETHER WORLD

Among most peoples the primitive idea of an after life in the grave was

enlarged into the conception of a common existence of the dead in the

depths of the earth. The dead man does not stay confined in the narrow

dwelling in which he rests; he goes down into vast caverns which extend

beneath the crust of the soil we tread. These immense hollows are

peopled by a multitude of shades who have left the tomb. Thus the tomb

becomes the antechamber of the true dwelling of the spirits who have

departed; its door is the gate of Hades itself. Through the tomb, the

great company of the beings who have been plunged in the darkness of the

infernal regions remains in communication with those who still sojourn

in our upper world. The libations and offerings made by the survivors on

the grave descend to this gloomy _hypogeum_ and there feed and rejoice

those for whom they are intended. Until the time of the Roman Empire,

nay, to the end of antiquity, the common man believed in this

wonder.[170] To attempt to define the means by which it was brought

about would be vain. These were beliefs which went back so far and were

so deeply rooted in the mind of the people that men accepted them

without seeking to explain them.

In Rome, the idea that the spirits of the dead inhabit a common dwelling

in the nether world existed from the time when the city had its

beginnings. It kept in religion a coarsely naïve form which proves how

archaic it was. According to a rite borrowed by the Romans from the

Etruscans, a pit was dug in the centre of the city, when the latter’s

foundations were laid, in order to make the _Inferi_ communicate with

the upper world. First fruits and other gifts were thrown into the pit,

as well as a clod of the earth of the settlers’ native country. Thus

they restored their broken contact with the Manes of their ancestors. In

all probability this hole was formed of a vertical pit ending in a

chamber with an arched roof curved like the heaven—hence the name

_mundus_ given to it. The key of the vault of this lower cellar was

formed of a stone, the _lapis Manalis_, which could be raised in order

to let the spirits pass. Three times a year, on the twenty-fourth of

August, the fifth of October and the eighth of November, this ceremony

took place: the door of hell was opened and the dead had free access to

the atmosphere. These days were therefore sacred, _religiosi_, and all

business was suspended on them.

Recently the _mundus_ of the ancient _Roma Quadrata_ was believed to

have been discovered during excavations of the Palatine, but the

underground space in question is probably only a silo or a cistern.

Other pits used for the cult of the dead existed elsewhere in the city.

It has recently been suggested that the altar of the god Consus, which

was hidden in a ditch in the middle of the Circus Maximus and uncovered

during the races, was one of these mouths of hell and like that shown in

representations of the funeral games of the Etruscans.[171]

But on certain days the souls of the dead rose to the earth’s surface of

themselves, although nothing had been done to make their coming thither

easier, and they then had to be appeased by sacrifices. This was what

happened from the thirteenth to the twenty-first of February, during the

_Parentalia_, when the souls of ancestors were honoured, and on the

ninth, the eleventh and the thirteenth of May, the dates of the

_Lemuria_, on which, at midnight, according to a prescribed ceremonial,

the father of the family nine times threw black beans to the _Lemures_

to keep them away from the house.

_Lemures_ and _Manes_ are used only in the plural: these words stand for

the vague conceptions formed of the shades of the dead who dwelt beneath

the ground. These were a nameless crowd, hardly individualised, not

distinguishable from the fleeting phantoms who fluttered about the

tombs. The Romans were a people of little imagination, and their

infernal mythology remained rudimentary until the time when they

borrowed from the Greeks the picturesque stories about the adventures of

travellers to Hades and the blessings and misfortunes which there

awaited them.

Originally no idea of retribution was attached to this descent of the

dead into the infernal regions; it was neither their merits nor their

demerits which determined their condition. On the contrary, the

inequalities of human society were perpetuated: a nobleman kept a higher

rank than that of his servants; each man in some sort continued his

occupations, even preserved his tastes and his passions. Existence in

the Beyond was conceived as a mere prolongation of earthly life. It is

to this idea, which was generally entertained, that the old custom

corresponds of placing in the grave the implements and other objects

which a dead man was in the habit of using. We have already touched on

this point in speaking of life in the tomb (p. 49), but the things

deposited beside the corpse were not only those which could be used by

the dweller of the “eternal house.” If he were a powerful lord his

chariot, his horses and his arms would be buried with him;[172] a hunter

would be supplied in the other world with his spears and his nets;[173]

a craftsman with the tools of his trade; a woman with the objects which

enabled her to spin and to weave. These funeral customs were more than a

tradition, followed without reference to the reasons inspiring it. Among

the Greeks, as among the Romans, the idea survives persistently, in

poetic descriptions of the Elysian Fields, that each man will there keep

the character and retain the habits which distinguished him before his

death. Virgil, taking his inspiration from Pindar, shows us the blessed

occupied by the contests of the palestra, by song and poetry and by

chariot races; for, he tells us, the passion which the dead had in life

for arms and for horses still pursues them when they have been buried in

the earth.[174] Ovid[175] sketches with rapid touches an analogous

picture. “The shades,” he says, “wander bloodless, bodiless, boneless;

some gather in the forum, others follow their trades, imitating their

former way of life.” And this is no fancy due to the poet’s imagination.

An awkward epitaph of a young, probably Syrian, slave[176] tells us that

he is glad still to be able to discharge his service zealously in the

retired place where dwells the god of the infernal abode. In these

instances we find, in spite of the transformation undergone by

eschatological ideas as a whole, a survival of the old conception of the

destiny of the dead.

We have not to seek far to discover how this transformation took place.

It was provoked by the desire to subject souls to different treatment

according to their deserts, and to distribute them in distinct

compartments in which they would be rewarded or punished in accordance

with their past works. It was much prior to the Roman period, going back

to the distant age at which Orphic theology, with its sanctions beyond

the grave, modified Homeric tradition and popular religion in Greece. In

the West the doctrine which imposed itself with the Hellenic

civilisation on peoples of foreign race was ready-made. It spread

through the south of Italy by way of the colonies of Greater Greece in

which Pythagorism came to its full power. It is in this country that

some of the Orphic tablets intended as guides to the dead in their

journey through the infernal realm have been discovered in the

tombs;[177] and the great amphorae of a later date, bearing

representations of scenes of Hades, which were also found in southern

Italy, show the importance which continued to be attached there to the

idea of the future life. In Campania, Lake Avernus was even regarded as

one of the entrances to the nether world, through which Ulysses and

Aeneas had descended.

The Greek doctrines were also introduced among the Etruscans and

combined with the beliefs of this people as to an underworld in which

the Manes of the dead were threatened by horrible demons and protected

by beneficent genii. This Greek influence and its alliance with the

native traditions appear in Etruria in a great number of funeral

monuments on which we find represented many figures which, according to

mythology, peopled the kingdom of Pluto. One of the most significant is

the fine sarcophagus, discovered a few years ago at Torre San Severo

near Bolsena, which seems to date from the third century B. C.[178] The

two long sides hold corresponding reliefs, the one showing Achilles’

sacrifice of the Trojan prisoners on the grave of Patroclus, the other

the sacrifice of Polyxena, last of Priam’s daughters, on the tomb of

Achilles. These scenes, borrowed from the Greek epic poetry, are placed

between two Etruscan demons, winged figures which bear serpents and are

male on one side and female on the other. The small sides are decorated

by two scenes from the Odyssey, the myth of Circe changing the

companions of Ulysses into animals—perhaps an allusion to

metempsychosis—and Tiresias’ evocation of the shades of the dead, the

Elysian Fields being curiously indicated. This instance—and many others

might be cited—shows how closely the Hellenic legends of Hades had been

intermingled with Etruscan demonology.

This Greek conception of the infernal regions, which literature and art

were to popularise and perpetuate even after credence had ceased to be

given to it, remains familiar to us. Taken altogether and in the large,

it is that of a kingdom imagined as an imitation of the cities of our

world, in which, however, there reigns such a rigorous justice as is on

our poor earth no more than a dream of minds morally disposed. This

underground state, of which the frontier is defended by an unbridged

river, the Styx, is governed by powerful rulers, Pluto and Proserpina.

It has its judges, Minos, Aeacus and Rhadamanthus; its executioners, the

Erinyes or Furies; and its prison, Tartarus, surrounded by high walls.

This jail, in which the guilty, laden with chains, suffer the torments

enacted in Greece by the penal laws or others more atrocious,[179] is

distinctly contrasted with the abode of the good citizens who freely

enjoy in delightful gardens all the pleasures which make the joy of

human beings.

Books treating of the “Descent into Hades,” of which a considerable

number were in circulation, and the poets’ descriptions embroidered

various patterns around this central design. There was a whole

mythological and theological efflorescence which peopled with more and

more numerous figures the fantastic kingdom occupying the great cavern

of the earth. Infinite variations were imagined on a traditional theme,

of which, however, even certain details were preserved from age to age

with a surprising fidelity. Lucian in his satirical description of

Charon and his boat reproduces types fixed in the sixth century before

our era, for, as has been observed, his picture is in exact agreement

with the recently discovered fragment of a black-figured vase.[180]

After Life in Roman Paganism · 第 6 / 19 段