PAGAN REGENERATION

A STUDY OF MYSTERY INITIATIONS IN THE GRAECO-ROMAN WORLD

BY HAROLD R. WILLOUGHBY

[b. 1890 d. 1962]

Chicago., Ill., The University of Chicago Press

[1929, copyright not renewed]

CHAPTER II

THE GREATER MYSTERIES AT ELEUSIS

AMONG the cults of Greece none was more favorably known in the first century
of the Christian era than the Eleusinian mysteries. Although it was more definitely
localized and centralized than were the other Greek mysteries, this circumstance
did not detract from either its reputation or its influence. Locally it was
associated with an antique tradition that ran back to prehistoric times, and
such antiquity was a valued credential for any first-century religion. The home
of this cult was the town of Eleusis on the fertile Rharian plain a few miles
from Athens, where in prehistoric times the cereal goddess Demeter was revered
by an agricultural community. Legends of the special initiation of foreigners
like Heracles and the Dioscuri recall the primitive time when membership in
the cult was open to citizens of Eleusis only. With the political fusion of
Eleusis and Athens, however, the local barriers were broken down and rebuilt
along much extended lines. The dominant city-state of Athens adopted the cult
as her own, brought it under state supervision, and entrusted the general management
of the mysteries to the Archon Basileus. Inscriptions of the Periclean period
attest the well-considered plan of Athens to use the mysteries as a religious
support for her political hegemony. This combination of ancient Eleusinian tradition
and the official patronage of the Athenian state gave dignity and prestige to
the mysteries of Demeter even in the first century.

But this cult was more than merely a state religion of the usual Greek model.
In the first century its appeal and its guaranties were for the individual rather
than for the citizen. On the one hand not all Athenians, by any means, were
members of the cult. The citizen of Athens did not automatically come under
the protection of Demeter by natural birth as he found himself under the aegis
of Athena. It was by special initiation alone, conceived and represented as
a process of rebirth, that he could avail himself of the cult privileges. No
less an Athenian than Socrates was reproached for not seeking initiation into
these mysteries. The state cult of Demeter operated as a voluntary religious
association in which Athenian citizens were eligible for membership; but their
adherence was a matter of their own volition.

Conversely, eligibility for admission was not limited to Athenians only.
When, as a result of the absorption of Eleusis by Athens, the mysteries lost
their local exclusiveness, they further took on a pan-Hellenic character. The
so-called Homeric Hymn to Demeter, one of the earliest and most valuable of
Eleusinian documents, invites the whole Greek world to come and participate
in the mysteries. Herodotus states that in his day whoever wished to do so,
whether they were Athenians or other Greeks, might come to be initiated. Later,
even the Hellenic limitation was removed and persons of any nationality were
received, providing they understood the Greek language in which the ritual was
conducted. In the time of Cicero, just before the beginning of our era, “the
most distant nations were initiated into the sacred and august Eleusinia.”

It is interesting to note further that women and slaves, even, were admitted
to this cult. The author of the oration In Neaeram, which was once attributed
to Demosthenes, states that Lysias, without any difficulty, was able to arrange
for the initiation of his mistress Metanira. That slaves were admitted is suggested
by a fragment from the comic poet Theophilus in which a slave speaks with gratitude
of his beloved master who taught him his letters and got him initiated into
the sacred mysteries. An inscription dated in the administration of Lycurgus
(329-328 B.C.) further puts the question of the admission of slaves beyond doubt.
It is an expense account of an Eleusinian official, and among the items included
is the following: “For the initiation of two public slaves; thirty drachmae.”
The mysteries of Demeter, therefore, once a local cult and later a state religion,
came in the end to assume an international character and to make an individualistic
appeal. In its developed form, the cult received into membership not only Greeks
but also “barbarians,” and women and slaves as well as free men.

I

It is indubitable that the influence of the Eleusinian mysteries was widespread
in the Graeco-Roman world. Though localized at Eleusis this cult influenced
rites that were celebrated elsewhere in widely scattered centers. In Ionia,
at Eleusis this cult influenced rites that were celebrated elsewhere in widely
scattered centers. In Ionia, at Ephesus and Mycale, and again in the Arcadian
city of Pheneus, Demeter Eleusinia was worshipped and her cult was related in
local legend to the Attic foundation. Pausanias vouches for the statement that
Celeae near Philius, and Megalopolis in Arcadia each had an “initiation mystery
of Demeter” in which the proceedings were conducted “in imitation of those at
Eleusis.” According to a late inscription (third century A.D.), a mystery of
Demeter flourished at Lerna in Argolis, and the hierophant in charge was the
son of an Athenian priest. There are further records that Demeter Eleusinia
was worshiped in Boeotia and Laconia on the Greek mainland, and in Crete and
Thera among the Greek islands. At Naples, in Italy, mysteries in honor of Demeter
were celebrated after the Attic manner. It is even possible that the Andanian
mysteries in Messenia, which Pausanias regarded as second in dignity and prestige
to the Eleusinian alone, were also related to the Attic cult. In each of these
instances two possibilities are to be considered. Either the similar rites had
their origin in the Eleusinian ceremonies or else both came from a common parentage.
In either case it is patent that there was widespread interest in Demeter cults
in the Graeco-Roman world.

Quite apart from the question of related Demeter cults, however, there is
an abundance of testimonia to prove the world-wide reputation of the Eleusinian
rites themselves at the beginning of the common era. Crinagoras, the Greek epigrammatist
of Mytilene, writing in the time of Augustus, advised his friend by all means
to go to Athens and see the mysteries, even though he traveled nowhere else.
If we may credit Philostratus, his hero Apollonius of Tyana, certainly one of
the most famous and respected religionists of his day, applied in person for
admission to the Eleusinian mysteries. “But the hierophant was not disposed
to admit him to the rites, for he said he would never initiate a wizard and
charlatan, nor open the Eleusinian Mysteries to a man who dabbled in impure
rites.”

During the early imperial period some very famous non-Greeks showed their
deep interest in the mysteries at Eleusis, among them the Emperor Augustus himself.
Though normally not attracted by foreign religions, he was initiated at Eleusis
in 21 B.C. Later, according to Suetonius, he gave signal proof of his reverence
for the mysteries.

“He was hearing a case at Rome which involved the privileges of the priests
of the Attic Ceres. When some of the mysteries of their sacred rites were to
be introduced into the pleadings, he dismissed those who sat upon the bench
with him as judges, as well as the bystanders, and heard the arguments upon
these points himself.”

Seutonius also tells us that when Nero was in Greece, “he dared not attend
the Eleusinian Mysteries at the initiation of which impious and wicked persons
are warned by the voice of the herald from approaching the rites.” However,
there were other emperors who like Augustus attained the goal which Nero failed
to gain. Marcus Aurelius and Commodus were two of these illustrious mystae.
The epitaph of an Eleusinian priestess mentions it as a matter of special pride
that she set the crown upon their heads as they participated in the solemn rites.
The fact that the first citizens of the Roman Empire sought membership in the
Eleusinian cult is striking proof of its great influence.

Other significant testimony is given by the philosophers and moralists of
this period. At the close of the pre-Christian era, Cicero declared it was his
personal opinion that Athens had given nothing to the world more excellent or
divine than the Eleusinian mysteries. At the beginning of the Christian centuries,
the Stoic Epictetus spoke of the impressiveness of these mysteries in terms
of genuine appreciation. Thus, at the beginning of our era, when Olympian Zeus
had lost his ancient supremacy and Delphian Apollo, though reviving, was yet
reduced in influence, Demeter of Eleusis still enjoyed a high reputation. The
influence of her mysteries was literally world-wide during the early imperial
period.

II

In order to understand the type of religious experience represented by this
important cult, it is necessary clearly to keep in mind the main points of the
Eleusinian myth which was developed to explain and justify the cult rites. These
are stated with sufficient elaboration in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, although
this document does not give the myth in its fully developed form. According
to the story, Persephone, daughter of Demeter, “giver of goodly crops,” was
stolen by Pluto and carried off to the underworld to be his bride. This was
done with the knowledge and tacit approval of Zeus himself. The mother, frenzied
with grief, rushed about the earth for nine days, torch in hand, abstaining
from eating and drinking, and searching wildly for her lost daughter. As she
rested at the “maiden well of fragrant Eleusis” she was welcomed by the daughters
of Celeus, who took her to their father’s house for refreshment. Here she finally
broke her fast and dwelt for a time. ln her resentment against Zeus, she brought
famine upon the fruitful earth so that no crops grew for men and no offerings
were made to the gods. Finally, an arrangement was made with Pluto whereby Persephone
was restored to her sorrowing mother. Since, however, the daughter had eaten
a sweet pomegranate seed in the underworld she was forced to return there regularly
for a portion of each year. Demeter, in her joy at the restoration of her lost
daughter, allowed the crops to grow once more and instituted in honor of the
event the Eleusinian mysteries which gave to mortals the assurance of a happy
future life. Such was the myth which stood in the background of thought for
one who participated in the Eleusinian rites.

The experiential basis for this story is quite clear. It was a nature myth,
a vivid depiction of the action of life in the vegetable world with the changing
of the seasons. Each year nature passed through the cycle of apparent death
and resurrection. In winter vegetable life was dead while Demeter, the giver
of life, grieved for the loss of her daughter. But with the coming of spring
the life of nature revived again, for the sorrowing mother had received her
daughter back with rejoicing. Through the summer the mother abundantly maintained
the life of nature until autumn, when again her daughter returned to the underworld
and earth became desolate once more. Thus year after year nature re-enacted
the myth of Eleusis.

It was also a reflection of poignant human experiences, mirroring the joys,
sorrows, and hopes of mankind in face of inevitable death. The three actors
of the Eleusinian tragedy, the mater dolorosa as the protagonist, the maiden
daughter is the deuteragonist, and the sinister figure of the ravisher as the
mysterious third actor, these three enacted the mystery of human life and death.
The god of death himself stole the beloved daughter away from the life-giver;
but the divine mother would not give up her loved one, and in the end she accomplished
her daughter’s resurrection. Here was human experience made heroic and divine;
for man has ever loved and lost, but rarely has he ceased to hope for reunion
with the loved one. The Eleusinian myth told of these fundamental human experiences
as well as of the life of nature.

III

With this mythological background in mind the Eleusinian ritual should be
examined, at least in its more important features, in order to define the variety
of religious experience fostered by this cult. It was an elaborate ceremonial,
extending over a long period of time. The classical analysis of the Eleusinian
rite divided it into four distinct stages: the katharsis, or preliminary purification,
the sustasis, or preparatory rites and sacrifices, the telete, i.e., the initiation
proper, and the epopteia, or highest grade of initiation. Of these various stages
the first two were public, and concerning them there is a large amount of information.
But the last two were very strictly private and therefore they remain for us
shrouded in mystery. Unfortunately, it is these very private ceremonials that
are most important for the student who is interested in the personal religious
experiences of paganism. The elaborate preliminary ceremonies do not concern
us in detail except as a preparation for the all-important rites which followed.

More than six months before the “great mysteries” in September the “lesser
mysteries” were celebrated at Agrae, a suburb of Athens, on the banks of the
Illisus. Clement of Alexandria spoke of “the minor mysteries which have some
foundation of instruction and of preliminary preparation for what is to come
after.” This statement emphasizes what for our purpose was the most significant
feature of the mysteries at Agrae–they were important as a prerequisite for
the “great mysteries.”

On the thirteenth of September the “great mysteries” began and they lasted
over a full week. Early in the festival there was a solemn assembly in the Stoa
Poicile, the main item of which was a proclamation by the hierophant. This was
not a sermon but rather a warning to depart, addressed to those who for one
reason or another were disqualified or unworthy of initiation. As to the content
of the formal warning, Libanius states that the “leaders of the mystae” proclaimed
to those seeking initiation that they must be “pure in hand and soul and of
Hellenic speech.” These terms are confirmed in part by a mathematician of the
imperial period who compared his studies to the mysteries. “Not all who wish,”
he said, “have a share in the Mysteries. But there are some who are forewarned
to abstain; such as those whose hands are not clean and whose speech is unintelligible.”
Celsus, as reported by Origen, gives two formulas of invitation, one altogether
similar to those already cited and the other of a somewhat different character.
He is quoted as follows:

“Those who invite people to other mysteries make proclamation thus: ‘Everyone
who has clean hands and intelligible speech,’ others again thus: ‘He who is
pure from all pollution, and whose soul is conscious of no evil and who has
lived well and justly.’ Such is the proclamation made by those who promise purification
from sins.”

These quotations from late pagan writers indicate that the Athenian proclamation
included not only ritualistic requirements but elements of moral scrutiny as
well. One may say that over the Eleusinian shrine as over the doorway of the
Rhodian temple were inscribed the words “[Those can rightfully enter] who are
pure and healthy in hand and heart and who have no evil conscience in themselves.”

On the day following the assembly came the cry, “To the sea, O Mystae!” and
the candidates for initiation ran down to the sea, there to purify themselves
in its salt waves–a lustration believed to be of greater virtue than that of
fresh water. “Sea waves wash away ill sin,” said Euripides. The potent effect
of the cleansing by salt water was further enhanced by sprinkling with pig’s
blood. Each of the mystae carried with him a sucking pig which he purified by
immersion in the waters of the sea. Later the pig was sacrificed and its blood
sprinkled on the candidate. Tertullian, in speaking of this rite, declared,
“At the Eleusinian mysteries men are baptized and they assume that the effect
of this is their regeneration and the remission of the penalties due to their
perjuries.” This striking affirmation by a Christian writer shows that the initiates
themselves applied the new birth comparison to their own experiences in Eleusinian
baptism. The rite was believed to be more than cathartic, merely. Regenerative
powers were credited to it which operated to make the initiate in some sense
a new being. It was with this rite particularly that the Eleusinian devotees
associated the idea of personal transformation.

After the preliminary rites at Athens, the purified candidates formed in
solemn procession on the nineteenth of September and marched to Eleusis, there
to complete the celebration of the festival. Along the Sacred Way leading from
Athens there were many holy places, and since the mystae performed ritualistic
observances en route the company arrived at Eleusis by torchlight late in the
evening. The long march was followed by a midnight revel under the stars, a
ceremony that Aristophanes described in glowing terms. This was held on the
Rharian plain, and it is not improbable that it partook of the nature of a mimetic
ritual. Near the great propylaea of the sacred precinct was the Well of Callichoros,
where the first choral dances were organized by the women of Eleusis in honor
of Demeter. Close at hand was the Unsmiling Rock, where the desolate mother
sat when she first came to Eleusis. Not far away were the meadows which had
seen her torchlit wanderings. It would not be strange if the mystae beginning
their choral dances at the Well of Callichoros, continuing their revel by torchlight
in the meadows, or resting at the Unsmiling Rock–it would not be strange if
they felt that they were really sharing in the antique experiences of their
goddess. Certainly in their wearied state, weakened by fasting, they would be
peculiarly susceptible to such mystical emotions.

Thus the mystae were prepared for the climactic feature of the celebration
which took place in the telesterion, or Hall of Initiation. This sacred place
was closed to all save the initiated, and the events which occurred there were
strictly private and shrouded in the densest mystery. The initiates were under
pledge of secrecy not to divulge the revelation there given. Apparently, Public
opinion enforced this pledge in a very remarkable manner. Once when Aeschylus
was acting in one of his own tragedies the audience became suspicious that he
was betraying certain secrets of the Eleusinian mysteries. They arose in real
fury and attacked the author-actor, who saved his life only by fleeing to the
altar of Dionysus, a refuge that the Athenian mob respected. Later, however,
Aeschylus was brought to trial before the Areopagus for revealing forbidden
secrets and was acquitted quite as much because of his bravery at Marathon as
because of his plea of ignorance. Alcibiades, on the eve of his departure for
the Sicilian expedition, was charged with “impious mockery of the goddesses
Demeter and Persephone” because he had “profanely acted the sacred mysteries
at a drunken meeting.” Even such a garrulous historian as Herodotus, though
he was “accurately acquainted with the sacred rites of Demeter” yet felt that
he “must observe a discreet silence” concerning them. The secret of Eleusis
was guarded all too well and as a result we know almost nil concerning the central
rites of the mysteries of Demeter.

One of the incidents just mentioned, however, makes it clear that the heart
of the Eleusinian ritual was in the nature of a religious drama. The accusation
against Alcibiades very definitely specified actors in a mock pageant which
he staged at his drunken revel. “Theodorus represented the herald, Polytion
the torch-bearer, and Alcibiades the chief priest, while the rest of the party
appeared is candidates for initiation and received the title of initiates.”
This describes the situation in the telesterion at Eleusis on the night of initiation;
the priests took the part of actors in a religious drama or pageant of which
the initiates were the spectators. The archaeological remains of the Hall of
Initiation at Eleusis bear out this theory. It was a great square hall around
the four sides of which ran stone seats eight steps high, one above the other.
Here the initiates sat and watched the spectacle staged in their midst.

Of what did the dramatic action in the telesterion consist? Only hints are
given; yet these are sufficient to suggest what was probably the subject matter
of the mystery play. Clement of Alexandria tells us that “Deo [Demeter] and
Kore became [the personages of] a mystic drama, and Eleusis with its dadouchos
celebrates the wandering, the abduction, and the sorrow.” Apparently the drama
of the telesterion was a sort of passion play, the subject matter of which was
essentially the same as that of the Homeric Hymn. It concerned the loss of the
daughter, the sorrow of the mother, and the final return of the loved one from
Hades. This view is further confirmed by the words which Apuleius puts into
the mouth of Psyche when she appeals to Demeter “by the unspoken secrets of
the mystic chests, the winged chariots of thy dragon ministers, the bridal descent
of Proserpine, the torchlit wanderings to find thy daughter, and all the other
mysteries which Attic Eleusis shrouds in secret.” From these two references
it is evident that the important parts of the great myth of Demeter were enacted
as a drama before the eyes of the mystae gathered in the telesterion.

Various writers, pagan is well as Christian, furnish additional evidence
on this point and emphasize certain crises in the unfolding plot of the passion
drama. Apollodorus, an Athenian historian and mythographer of the second century
B.C., is quoted as saying, “The hierophant is in the habit of sounding the so-called
gong when Kore calls for aid.” Undoubtedly this statement has reference to the
Eleusinian ritual, as the mention of the hierophant proves. One can easily understand
that the cry of Persephone marked a high point of interest in the course of
the Eleusinian drama, and that it was accentuated by the sounding of a gong.
The effect of this on the devotees can easily be imagined. It was an unexpected
sound coming suddenly in the midst of a solemn ceremonial. It focused attention
entirely and sharply on the immediate action. In emotional effect, it was probably
not unlike the sounding of the gong during the celebration of mass. By this
simple expedient, the abduction of Persephone was made a memorable part of the
passion play of Eleusis.

The statement already quoted from the Alexandrian Clement concerning the
actors in the Eleusinian drama makes specific reference to the grief of Demeter
as constituting a part of the action. This reference is further confirmed by
a quotation from a late pagan author, Proclus, who asserts, “The ceremonies
of the mysteries in their secret part, transmit certain sacred lamentations
of Kore, of Demeter, of the Great Goddess herself.” Thus again it becomes clear
that the Eleusinian passion play was not merely a pantomime, reproducing the
actions and gestures of the divine personages, but that it included vocal expression
as well. By recitative or chant the actors who impersonated the goddesses gave
expression to the emotions of the moment. The text suggests that these chants
were traditional and were characterized by the fixity of form usual in ritual.
Such being the case, the sorrow of Demeter which formed a distinct episode in
the Eleusinian drama was further made impressive by traditional liturgical expression.

An important but very vague reference to the secret part of the Eleusinian
mysteries is found in the Panegyric oration of Isocrates. “In her wanderings
after the abduction of Persephone, Demeter came into our land. She wished to
give testimony of her benevolence to our ancestors in recompense for the good
offices of which initiates alone are permitted to hear.” What were these services
with which only initiates into the Eleusinian mysteries were familiar and of
which they could speak only among themselves? Obviously it could not be the
welcome given to Demeter by the household of Celeus. That was known to the wide
world through the Homeric Hymn. A Latin poet of the first century furnishes
a possible explanation of this veiled reference in Isocrates. Addressing the
goddess herself, Statius says:

“Tuque, Actaea Ceres, cursu cui semper anelo Votivam taciti quassamus lampada
mystae.”

Here the Latin poet speaks as an initiate himself. He is contemplating a
ceremony which is not a mere spectacle but a religious rite, shared in by the
devotees. In solemn silence, torch in hand, they accompanied Demeter in her
breathless wanderings. Just as the priestess personified the goddess, they temporarily
represented the legendary inhabitants of Eleusis who not only welcomed the goddess
but also assisted her in her search. These were probably the services of which
Isocrates hinted with such reserve. In the wanderings of Demeter, then, the
initiates actually participated by mimetic action. They did the very things
which would enable them best to share emotionally in the profound experiences
of their goddess.

A quotation from a fourth-century Christian writer, Lactantius, adds confirmatory
evidence here and further suggests what was probably the closing scene of the
Eleusinian drama. Referring specifically to the mysteries of Demeter, Lactantius
says, “With burning torches Proserpina is sought, and when she is found, the
rite is closed with general thanksgiving and a waving of torches.” The search
was not in vain. The lost daughter was found and restored; and the initiates
who had shared in the anxious wanderings of the mother now shared in her happiness
at the recovery of her daughter. With joyous acclamation and the waving of torches
the return of the lost daughter was hailed by the initiates. This scene of happiness,
according to Lactantius, closed the drama of Eleusis.

Thus, notwithstanding the meagerness of information concerning the Eleusinian
passion play, we can yet distinguish the main episodes of its action. The abduction
of Persephone, the grief of her mother, the search for the lost daughter, and
the reunion of the two goddesses–these were the principle scenes. The indecent
actions suggested by a few Christian writers must be ruled out as vouched for
only on the testimony of prejudiced and highly interested witnesses. On the
other hand, the well-certified scenes, though so few in number, constitute the
basis for a religious rite of impressive possibilities.

True, the actors in this passion play were few. But classical Greek tragedy
at its best boasted of but three actors. And in the telesterion the protagonist
was Demeter, the goddess of grain, and the deuteragonist was Persephone, the
goddess of the underworld. Clad in gorgeous and traditional costumes the personages
of the Eleusinian passion play must have been very impressive figures. Of scenic
effect there was little or nothing. The architectural remains of the telesterion
show no provision for anything like stage settings or machinery. There was not
even a stage, and the properties were probably the simplest possible–torchlight
and rich robes. Again the familiar effects of Greek drama may serve to account
for this absence of properties. On the Greek stage all was simplicity and convention.
Greek audiences, like the spectators of the Elizabethan drama, were trained
to depend upon their imaginations to supply what was lacking in stage settings.
So at Eleusis, the effectiveness of the passion play depended much upon the
cultivated imaginations of the mystae. Moreover, by simple expedients the participation
of the initiates in the action of the drama was brought about. They were not
merely spectators of a pageant; they were participants in a ritual. The gong
focused their attention upon the first great crisis of the drama, the abduction
of the daughter. With torches they followed the mother in her frantic search
and again with the waving of torches they expressed their joy at the return
of her daughter. Thus, by participation in the dramatic action, as well as by
active imagination, the mystae were enabled to share emotionally in the experiences
of the great goddesses.

Does the plot centering around the abduction of Persephone and her restoration
to her sorrowing mother mark the limits of the dramatic representation in the
telesterion? Many students believe it does not. M. Foucart, for example, goes
so far as to distinguish a second drama, enacted at Eleusis on the evening following
the passion play just outlined. According to M. Foucart, the main features of
this second mystery drama were a sacred marriage and the birth of a holy child.

The citations supporting this view are not numerous. A commentator on a passage
in Plato’s Gorgias says, “The Mysteries are celebrated in honor of Demeter and
Kore, because the latter was abducted by Pluto and because Zeus was united with
Demeter.” This reference does suggest the possibility of two different Eleusinian
dramas along the lines indicated. From the context, however, it is evident that
the scholiast is drawing uncritically from Christian sources; hence the value
of his testimony is not certain. Tertullian’s question, “Why is the priestess
of Ceres ravished, unless Ceres herself suffered the same sort of thing?” is
a passage of doubtful reference and interpretation that can scarcely be cited
in proof of a sacred marriage at Eleusis. It is most reasonable to think that
Tertullian in speaking thus merely confused Demeter and Persephone. As a subsidiary
bit of evidence from a pagan source, it should be noted that Lucian had his
false-prophet Alexander introduce a sacred marriage into his mysteries, which
were modeled in part after the Eleusinian rites. However, the clearest passage
in support of the sacred marriage idea is found in the writings of Asterius,
a fourth-century Christian bishop. With unpleasant insinuation, he speaks of
“the underground chamber and the solemn meeting of the hierophant and the priestess,
each with the other alone, when the torches are extinguished, and the vast crowd
believes that its salvation depends on what goes on there.”

If this passage may be taken as conclusive evidence of a sacred marriage
in the Eleusinian telesterion, then it has a further significance that is noteworthy.
It shows that the marriage was a representative act whereby the initiates entered
into mystical communion with their deity. As such it would be a more or less
realistic rite after the order of the marriage of the Basilinna at Athens with
the god Dionysus, in which the city was united by proxy to the god. The point
has this importance: if a sacred marriage was part of the Eleusinian ritual,
then this rite assured the initiates of a more direct and immediate communion
with the goddess than would otherwise be possible. Whether or not the testimony
of Asterius is accepted, his insinuations deserve to be repudiated. There is
no reason to assume that any part of the rites were indelicate or were regarded
otherwise than with reverence by the initiates. We may be sure of this, that
if there was a sacred marriage at Eleusis it was a solemn ceremonial, probably
a liturgical fiction, and not an exhibition of licentiousness. Indeed, we have
the positive statement of Hippolytus as to the scrupulous purity of the hierophant.

Closely connected with the question of a sacred marriage is that relative
to a holy birth at Eleusis. Hippolytus, in the Naassenic sermon just cited,
is almost the only authority for this episode. He says:

“The hierophant himself …. celebrating at Eleusis the great and ineffable
mysteries beside a huge fire cries aloud and makes proclamation, saying: ‘August
Brimo has brought forth a holy son, Brimos,’ that is, the strong has given birth
to the strong. For august, he says, is the generation which is spiritual, or
heavenly, or from above, and strong is that which is thus generated.”

Such a holy birth as this would normally follow the marriage rite just discussed.
What lends exceptional interest to the rite is the idea suggested unclearly
in a brief word study that follows. Quoting from “those initiated into the mysteries,”
the name Eleusis is derived from eleusesthai (to come) “because we spiritual
ones came on high.” This suggests that the holy birth of the Eleusinian drama,
a birth “spiritual, heavenly, and from above” was viewed as typifying the new
birth of the initiate which translated him from the earthly, human sphere to
the heavenly, spiritual realm. On this interpretation the rite came to be viewed
as a dramatic enactment of a spiritual rebirth experienced individually by the
initiates themselves.

The possibility of such a two-act drama as this at Eleusis must certainly
be allowed. With lights extinguished, the initiates may have waited in breathless
silence for the consummation of a sacred marriage, believing that it involved
their own direct communion with the goddess. Again in a blaze of light they
may have welcomed the announcement of a holy birth, believing that their own
rebirth as spiritual beings was involved in the process. If so, the rites of
Eleusis held out to the whole body of initiates the possibility of immediate
communion with deity and complete personal transformation guaranteed by appropriate
rites. The mystical communion fostered by the problematic second drama at Eleusis
was even more intimate and realistic than that cultivated by the passion play.

Distinct from the dramatic part of the initiation ceremony at Eleusis was
the exhibition of sacred objects. This part of the service was at least of equal
importance with the passion play. The title of the hierophant was “he who displays
the sacred things,” and his exhibition of these objects was an act of the utmost
solemnity. Only a part of them were, shown during the celebration at which the
neophytes witnessed the mystic drama and attained the grade of mystae. Others
were reserved for exhibition a year later at the epopteia, or final grade of
initiation, when the mystae became epoptae. Thus the display of venerable objects
marked the culmination of the “great mysteries” and, so far as we know, was
the all-important feature of the final grade of initiation.

Just what the “sacred things” were is a question not clearly answered. It
is but reasonable to suppose that they were the very objects which were solemnly
escorted to Athens at the beginning of the festival and were later returned
to Eleusis in the procession of the candidates on the nineteenth of September.
In these processions they were treated with the highest honors and were carefully
guarded from public view. Probably they included statues of the goddesses, images
of great antiquity and sanctity. We know how the crude old wooden statues of
the gods were venerated in other cults. Ordinarily their origin was a matter
of marvel. At Athens, for example, the wooden image of Athena Polias, which
was believed to have fallen from heaven during the reign of Cecrops, was inextricably
bound up with the fortunes of the city. Tertullian speaks not only of a wooden
statute of Athena but also of a like image of Demeter as well. Accordingly,
we may infer that Eleusis had its wooden image of Demeter even as Athens had
its xoanon of Athena Polias, and in all probability this was the most sacred
of all the sacred objects at Eleusis. Quite certainly it was accompanied also
by an image of Persephone. Within the sacred area at Eleusis, these statues
were housed in the anactoron, or chapel, of Demeter which crowned the citadel.
This was the holy of holies in the Eleusinian precinct and none but the hierophant
might enter here. An Epicurean who had the hardihood to violate the shrine perished
miserably as a result of his impiety. In this anactoron the sacred objects were
carefully guarded from profanation until the time came for their exhibition.

The display of the hiera was contrived in a most impressive manner. When
the door of the shrine was opened the hierophant, clad in his festival robes,
came out into the full blaze of a bright light and revealed the sacred objects
to the gaze of the initiates. It was an awesome spectacle. The hierophant in
his priestly vestments was himself an impressive figure. Eleusinian inscriptions
also suggest how effective was the lighting of this scene. One of them speaks
of the “holy night, clearer than the light of the sun.” Another one, a metrical
inscription engraved on the base of the statue of a hierophant, exclaims: “O
mystae, formerly you saw me coming from the shrine and appearing in the luminous
nights.” Being in an impressionable state of mind, the mystae must have felt
themselves very near to divinity when objects so jealously guarded and of such
sanctity were finally exposed to view. The emotional effect of the exhibition
is well suggested by a passage from Plutarch. In discussing “Progress in Virtue,”
he used a figure of speech derived from the initiation ceremony of these mysteries.
According to Plutarch, “He who once enters into philosophy and sees the great
light, as when shrines are open to view, is silent and awestruck.” This passage
probably well describes the impression made by the spectacle at Eleusis on a
company of initiates.

Of the epopteia attained a year after the telete, our knowledge is most scanty.
Apparently it was in the nature of a further revelation of sacred tokens. But
a single rite is known to us and this only on the authority of Hippolytus. With
a fine show of sarcasm he speaks of “the Athenians initiating people at Eleusis
and showing to the epoptae that great and marvellous mystery of perfect revelation,
in solemn silence, a cut cornstock!” There are two points of emphasis in this
passage: first, that the exhibition of a corn token formed a part of the Eleusinian
mystery, and, second, that this exhibition was reserved for the epoptae. On
these two points there can be little doubt. Indeed, considering the agricultural
background of the Eleusinian festival, it is not only credible, but even probable
that a corn token should be among the most sacred things of the Eleusinia. The
solemnity of this final exhibition is emphasized by the phrase “in silence.”
In this case the display took place without a word of elucidation from the hierophant,
whereas the year before the spectacle had been accompanied with an explanatory
discourse throughout. As to the meaning of this silent exhibition, we are left
entirely to conjecture. It is not unreasonable to suppose that the corn was
regarded as the symbol of a birth and rebirth in man paralleling the vernal
rebirth of nature. This, at least, is the explanation suggested by Farnell.
To the gentile mind of the first century, however, it was not merely a matter
of symbolism, but rather a conviction arising “in accordance with the naive
and primitive belief in the unity of man’s life with the vegetative world.”
In this final exhibition, therefore, the initiate would find a proof as well
as an illustration of a personal rebirth like that of the grain in springtime.
The emotional effect of this rite was probably not unlike that of the hieratic
spectacle a year previous. But the conviction arising from it would be rather
the assurance of individual rebirth to new life, instead of communion with deity.

The revelation in silence at the epopteia serves to throw into relief a third
distinctive element of the Eleusinian mysteries, the discourse or verbal explanation
which accompanied the ceremonial. A quaint rhetorical fragment preserved under
the name of Sopatros suggests the importance of this discourse. It recounts
the dream of a young man who saw the spectacle of the mysteries. Because he
did not hear the words of the hierophant, however, he could not consider himself
initiated. Without the priestly discourse, then, the initiation was incomplete.

It is difficult to determine precisely what the content of the discourse
was. The references at hand concerning these utterances, however, make it clear
that it was not,in isolated speech but rather a running commentary which served
to expIain to the mystae the meaning of the tableaux and the significance of
the sacred objects. In all probability the formulas used were liturgical in
character, though some freedom of utterance may have been allowed the hierophant.
In the course of the explanation, he probably descanted on the blessings assured
by the initiation ceremonies, and he may have included moral exhortation as
well. About all that can be said, therefore, concerning the sacred discourse
is that it was an oral interpretation of the Eleusinian ceremonial intended
to give to tableau and drama and exhibition their full meaning.

Having canvassed the drama, the spectacle, and the discourse, have we exhausted
the significant elements in the Eleusinian ceremonial? Clement of Alexandria
has preserved a formula that suggests the possibility of a different type of
ritualistic observance. His statement is, “The password of the Eleusinian Mysteries
is as follows: ‘I have fasted, I have drunk the barley drink, I have taken things
from the sacred chest, having tasted thereof I have placed them into the basket
and again from the basket into the chest.'” There is no reason for doubting
the genuineness of this password. The meaning of the first two elements in the
process is fairly clear. The fasting of the mystae corresponded to that of the
sorrowing goddess Demeter who “sat smileless, nor tasted meat nor drink, wasting
with long desire for her deep-bosomed daughter.” Likewise the drinking of the
barley drink corresponded to the breaking of her fast; for the goddess had refused
a cup of sweet wine, “but she had them mix meal and water with the tender herb
of mint, and give it to her to drink.” This mixed potion the goddess accepted.
Accordingly, in drinking a similar potation the mystae shared the cup from which
the great goddess drank in her sorrow. It was a direct and sympathetic participation
in the experiences of the goddess, an action expressive of attained fellowship
with the deity.

Just what the eating of food from the chest meant to the participant is less
obvious. Like the drinking of the barley drink, it was probably a sacrament
of communion, and it may have implied an even more realistic communion than
was involved in the act of drinking. If, as is most likely, the sacred food
consisted of cereals, then the assimilation of this food meant a direct and
realistic union with Demeter, the goddess of grain. It meant an incorporation
of divine substance into the human body. However the idea was arrived at, this
rite clearly involved a mystical communion by the act of eating, even as the
barley drink stood for mystical fellowship through the act of drinking. Already
emotionally united with Demeter through participation in her passion, the initiates
now became realistically one with her by the assimilation of food and drink.

IV

It is further important to note the effects, both imediate and ultimate,
of this elaborate ceremonial upon the lives of the devotees. According to Aristotle,
the mysteries did not teach rules of conduct but rather stimulated the emotions.
“Aristotle is of the opinion,” Synesitis affirms, “that the initiated learned
nothing precisely, but that they received impressions and were put into a certain
frame of mind. To use the Aristotelian formula, not mathein (to learn) but pathein
(to suffer) was the reason for participation in the Eleusinian ritual; and in
its immediate aspect this was exactly the effect of the celebration.

This stimulation of emotion is so frequently mentioned in Eleusinian sources
that there is little danger of exaggeration at this point. Plutarch drew several
striking comparisons illustrating the emotional effect of the rites of Eleusis.
In his treatise on “Progress in Virtue” he compared the effect of initiation
on a confused and jostling crowd of candidates to the influence of philosophy
on a noisy and talkative group of students.

“Those who are initiated, come together at first with confusion and noise,
and jostle one another, but when the mysteries are being performed and exhibited,
they give their attention with awe and silence….. So also at the commencement
of philosophy…. you will see round its doors such confusion and assurance
and prating, some rudely and violently jostling their way to reputation; but
he who once enters in assumes another air and is silent and awestruck, and in
humility and decorum follows reason as if she were a god.”

Plutarch used yet other striking similes to illustrate more specifically
the emotional effect of participation in the mysteries. The joy of the initiated,
he affirmed, was like that of the ostracized returning to their native land
after banishment. Again he took advantage of the mingled trouble and apprehension,
the peculiar hope and final joy of the initiated to describe the feelings of
the soul at death. According to Plutarch:

When a man dies,he is like those who are being initiated into the mysteries.
The one expression teleutan the other teleisthai correspond….. Our whole life
is but a succession of wanderings, of painful courses, of long journeys by tortuous
ways without outlet. At the moment of quitting it, fears, terrors, quiverings,
mortal sweats, and a lethargic stupor, come over us and overwhelm us; but as
soon as we are out of it pure spots and meadows receive us, with voices and
dances and the solemnities of sacred words and holy sights. It is there that
man, having become perfect and initiated–restored to liberty, really master
of himself–celebrates crowned with myrtle the most august mysteries, and holds
converse with just and pure souls.

With all this evidence it cannot be doubted that the extended ceremonial
of the Eleusinia had a profound effect in stirring deeply the feelings of the
mystae. They experienced the whole gamut of emotions from doubt and fear to
hope and joy.

Furthermore, the Eleusinian rites were so ordered as to enable the worshiper
to enact the legendarv experiences of his goddess, and feel as she had felt
of old. There was, first of all, the careful mental and physical preparation,
the purification of body, and the disposition of mind, which Epictetus stressed,
without which, he said, the mysteries could bring no benefit. It was a long
preparation beginning at Agrae six months before the initiation proper. At the
opening of the greater mysteries the candidates prepared themselves for approach
to divinity by fasting and lustrations. They marched in solemn procession along
the Sacred Way from Athens to Eleusis, stopping at holy places redolent with
memories of their goddess. After all these preliminaries, they were impressionable
and psychologically prepared to share intensely in the emotional experiences
of the Great Goddess. When in the passion play of the telesterion they witnessed
the abduction of Persephone they were sensitive to the grief of the mother.
They assisted her in her frenzied search for her lost daughter, and at the reunion
of the goddesses they participated in the joy of the occasion. Like Demeter
herself they broke their fast by drinking of the barley drink. As completely
as possible the devotees of Demeter reproduced her experiences, shared her feelings,
and thereby established a sense of mystical fellowship with their goddess. This
was the great experience of their religion.

It was not, however, a mere matter of temporary emotional satisfaction to
the initiates; for the rites of Eleusis gave positive assurance for the future
as well. The mystical communion established by initiation was a lasting one.
Sharing in the other experiences of the goddess, the mystae believed they would
share also in her triumph over death. According to Farnell, it was their sense
of present fellowship that led directly to this conviction concerning the future.

“These deities, the mother and the daughter and the dark god in the background,
were the powers that governed the world beyond the grave: those who had won
their friendship by initiation in this life would by the simple logic of faith
regard themselves as certain to win blessing at their hands in the next. And
this, as far as we can discern, was the ground on which flourished the Eleusinian
hope.”

Nothing is clearer than that the devotees of Demeter enjoyed the anticipation
of a happy future life. It was not merely the vague promise of a future existence,
it was the definite assurance of a blissful future that the mysteries of Eleusis
offered to seekers for salvation. In classical antiquity this Eleusinian assurance
was generally known and appreciated. The Homeric Hymn declared, “Happy is he
among deathly men who has seen these things! But he who is uninitiated, and
has no lot in them, will never have equal lot in death beneath the murky gloom.”
Pindar and Sophocles re-echoed the same thought. “Thrice happy they who go to
the world below, having seen these mysteries; to them alone is life there, to
all others is misery.” Among the orators, Isocrates declared, “Those who share
this initiation have sweet hopes for the end of life and for all future time.”
Plato also gave recognition to this conviction when he said that the mysteries
taught enigmatically “that he who passes unsanctified and uninitiated into the
world below will lie in a slough, but he who arrives there after initiation
and purification will dwell with the gods.” At the beginning of the Christian
era, this was still the strong hope that the mysteries of Eleusis guaranteed.
Cicero said of them, “In the mysteries we learn not only to live happily but
to die with fairer hope.” Thus, the mythical experiences of the Eleusinian goddesses
in breaking the power of death became the basis for a definite assurance of
a happy life beyond the grave. Precisely what the relationship was between the
mythological experiences of the Great Goddess and the hopes of her devotees
is, indeed, unclear, but that the relationship existed is certain and that the
mysteries gave prized assurance of immortality is indubitable.

Not only did the experience of initiation result in a temporary emotional
exaltation and a lasting guaranty of future bliss, but it eventuated also in
a purification and elevation of the present life of men as well. It is true
that the Eleusinian mysteries were criticized at exactly this point. Diogenes
of Sinope, for example, sarcastically declared, “It will be an absurd thing
if Aegesilaus and Epaminondas are to live in the mire and some miserable wretches
who have been initiated are to be in the island of the blest.” Undoubtedly there
was reason enough for his criticism. Nevertheless, the general testimony of
the ancients was on the other side of the case. Andocides, on trial for impiety
before a jury of mystae, assumed that those who had been initiated would be
more ready to punish the impious and save the righteous than others would be,
and that sin was the more heinous in one who was consecrated to the service
of the mother and daughter. At the close of one of his beautiful odes, Aristophanes
had the happy initiated sing, “To us alone is there joyous light after death,
who have been initiated and who lived in pious fashion as touching our duty
to strangers and private people.” Cicero stated as his conviction that in the
mysteries we perceive the real principles of life. Even such a stern moralist
as Epictetus encouraged reverence for the mysteries, recognized their benefits,
and asserted that they were established by those of old for our education and
the amendment of life.” In face of such an imposing array of evidence, the modern
student cannot avoid the conclusion that the Eleusinian mysteries did exert
an elevating influence on the moral life.

Here again, the precise relationship between the Eleusinian ritual and its
moral effect is exceedingly unclear. We do not know what was the basis for the
Eleusinian ethic. There may have been no exhortation to the mystae to lead pure
and good lives. Indeed, the immediate and conscious aim of the rites may not
have been an ethical one at all. Nevertheless, it is undeniable that the mysteries
of Demeter did exercise a salutary influence in the matter of practical living.
Not only a temporary stimulation of the emotions, not only a positive guaranty
of future happiness, but also a lasting elevation of moral standards was a result
of initiation into the mysteries at Eleusis.

V

For the devotees of Demeter initiation into her cult marked the beginning
of a new kind of life more divine than they had known before. It was virtually
for them the experience of a new birth. True, the exact word palingenesia does
not occur on any of the Eleusinian monuments, but Tertullian attests that the
mystae applied this very figure of speech to their initiation experiences and
to baptism especially. Tertullian himself did not question the applicability
of the term, though as a Christian he naturally insisted on the superior validity
of the Christian rite and experience. He argued thus:

“If the mere nature of water, in that it is the appropriate material for
washing away, leads men to flatter themselves with a belief in the omens of
purification, how much more truly will waters render that service through the
authority of God, by whom all their matter has been constituted.”

In other words, Christian baptism according to Tertullian was a potent agency
for spiritual regeneration, while Eleusinian baptism was not, though the Christian
lawyer admitted that pagan religionists claimed regenerative power for their
rite.

In the Eleusinian ritual itself there was much besides baptism to suggest
and realistically induce a new birth experience. The mythical background of
Eleusinian thought distinctly picturized the recurrent revival of life in nature
with each successive year. It represented this fact of common experience in
the mythological terms of a goddess who was carried off to Hades but later returned
to the upper air. The lesser mysteries, celebrated at Agrae in the springtime,
were probably especially suggestive of this renewal of life in nature. The ritual
of purification and the long period of fasting preliminary to the great mysteries
were intended to wash away the stains of the old life so that the purified candidates
might approach the two goddesses prepared for personal renewal. If a ritual
marriage formed a part of the mysteries, then the initiates realized a real
unio mystica with the divine, in itself a completely transforming process. If
the sacred marriage was followed by a holy birth, then the idea of anew life
“spiritual, heavenly, and from above,” was further accentuated. With the exhibition
of sacred relics the initiates were brought very close to things divine, and
the most sacred of these objects, the corn token, was itself a symbol of regeneration.
Furthermore, in a realistic sacrament of eating and drinking, the neophytes
assimilated food charged with such divine potency that it could transmute human
nature into immortal essence. Thus, by realistic union as well as by sympathetic
communion, the individual neophyte came to realize a new life by means of initiation.

The type of life which was thus induced by the Eleusinian ritual has been
sufficiently characterized. From a purely descriptive standpoint the new birth
experience of Eleusis was temporarily a matter of the feelings–the arousal
of deep emotions by participation in an ancient and well-ordered ritual. But
it resulted in more than a temporary satisfaction of the emotions merely. It
eventuated in an amended moral life and the ultimate assurance of future happiness.
These were the permanent effects of Eleusinian regeneration.