The Anatomy of Melancholy

Kings, emperors and brave men who had performed any service for them they likewise canonized and worshipped as gods. It was commonly done: “It was usual among the ancients,” as Jacques Boissard rightly observes, “to deify people whose good deeds benefited mortals.” And the Devil was always ready to support their intentions: “At once he insinuated himself into their tombs, statues, temples and altars,” and so on. He crept into their temples, statues, tombs and altars, ready to give oracles, cure diseases and perform miracles, as through Jupiter, Aesculapius, Tiresias, Apollo, Mopsus, Amphiaraus and the rest—gods and demigods.

For such they were: “half-gods,” demigods, some “intermediate between gods and human beings,” as Maximus of Tyre, the Platonist, maintains and defends at length in discourses 26 and 27. When a good man dies, his body is buried, but his soul, “passing from human being to spirit,” immediately becomes a demigod. Unimpaired by harmful air or the diversity of forms, it rejoices, exults and sees that perfect beauty with its own eyes. Now deified, out of compassion it helps its poor friends here on earth, its relatives and kin; instructs and aids them; punishes the wicked and those who do wrong; and becomes a good guardian spirit appointed by the gods to protect and govern mortal people. So they would have it, assigning some to provinces, some to individuals, some to one duty, some to another.

Hector and Achilles assist soldiers to this day; Aesculapius, all the sick; the Dioscuri, seafarers; and so on. Sometimes, when occasion calls, they show themselves. The Dioscuri, Hercules and Aesculapius he saw himself—or the Devil in his likeness: “I myself saw them, not dreaming but awake.” So much for Maximus of Tyre. Nor do they worship only good people in this way, but tyrants, monsters and devils, as Stucki indignantly says: Neros, Domitians, Elagabaluses, depraved women and outright whores among the rest.

For every purpose, place and creature they assign gods:

To houses, roofs, baths and shod horses They are accustomed to assign guardian spirits. ——

So says Prudentius. Cuna for cradles; Diverra for sweeping houses; Nodina for knots; Prema, Pramunda, Hymen and Hymeneus for weddings; Comus, god of good companions; gods of silence and comfort; Hebe, goddess of youth; Mena of menstruation; and so on. Male and female gods of every age, sex and size, bearded and beardless, married and unmarried, begotten or not born at all, but springing, like Minerva, from Jupiter’s head. Hesiod counts at least 30,000 gods; Varro, 300 Jupiters. As Jeremiah told them, their gods were as numerous as their cities:

Whatever earth, sea, heaven brings forth—pitiable indeed— They called gods: hills, straits, rivers, flames.

Whatever heaven, sea and land brought forth, Hills, seas and rivers—this was God, and that.

And, most absurdly, they made gods on such ridiculous grounds. As children make dolls, says Mornay, their poets make gods; “and those whom they worship in temples, they make sport of in theatres,” as Lactantius scoffs.