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The Road to EleusisCarl A. P. RuckIII. Solving the Eleusinian MysteryWe are told that there once was a young Athenian who was much taken with the beauty of a courtesan in one of the brothels of Corinth. His attempts to repay her favors in some special way were continually frustrated by the madam, who insisted upon confiscating all private gifts. To give the girl something that would be hers alone, he hit upon the idea of offering her an immaterial, and thereby inalienable, benefit: he would pay the expenses for her introduction into the blessed community of those who had witnessed the secret religious ceremony practiced at the village of Eleusis. That sight was generally considered the culminating experience of a lifetime. And so she was allowed to travel to Athens, together with the madam and a younger girl from the brothel. The lover lodged them all with a friend while they prepared themselves by the preliminary rites. The full sequence would require more than half a year's residence in Athens. Then at last, amidst the throng of thousands who each autumn for the first and only time made the pilgrimage, they too walked the Sacred Road, crossing the narrow bridge that still today can be seen, now submerged in the brackish waters of the swamp that once divided Athens from the territory of its neighboring village, some fourteen miles distant, a region sacred for its special affinity with the realm of departed spirits, who were thought to insure the fertility of the adjacent plain of grain. The procession of pilgrims symbolically passed the frontier between worlds, a momentous journey characterized by its difficulty, for the bridge was expressly constructed too narrow for vehicular traffic and ahead, just as they arrived at the village itself, it was traditional that they would be obscenely insulted by masked men, who lined the bridge across the final boundary of water. Each year new candidates for initiation would walk that Sacred Road, people of all classes, emperors and prostitutes, slaves and freemen, an annual celebration that was to last for upwards of a millennium and a half, until the pagan religion finally succumbed to the intense hatred and rivalry of a newer sect, the recently legitimized Christians in the fourth century of our era. The only requirement, beyond a knowledge of the Greek language, was the price of the sacrificial pig and the fees of the various priests and guides, a little more than a month's wages, plus the expense of the stay in Athens. Every step of the way recalled some aspect of an ancient myth that told how the Earth Mother, the goddess Demeter, had lost her only daughter, the maiden Persephone, abducted as she gathered flowers by her bridegroom, who was Hades or the lord of death. The pilgrims called upon Iakchos as they walked. It was he who was thought to lead them on their way: through him, they would summon back the queen Persephone into the realm of the living. When at last they arrived at Eleusis, they danced far into the night beside the well where originally the mother had mourned for her lost Persephone. As they danced in honor of those sacred two goddesses and of their mysterious consort Dionysus, the god of inebriants, the stars and the moon and the daughters of Ocean would seem to join in their exultation. Then they passed through the gates of the fortress walls, beyond which, shielded from profane view, was enacted the great Mystery of Eleusis. It was called a mystery because no one, under pain of death, could reveal what happened within the sanctuary. My colleagues and I, working from hints in numerous sources, have ventured to go beyond that forbidden gate. Ancient writers unanimously indicate that something was seen in the great telesterion or initiation hall within the sanctuary. To say so much was not prohibited. The experience was a vision whereby the pilgrim became someone who saw, an epoptes. The hall, however, as can now be reconstructed from archaeological remains, was totally unsuited for theatrical performances; nor do the epigraphically extant account books for the sanctuary record any expenditures for actors or stage apparatus. What was witnessed there was no play by actors, but phasmata, ghostly apparitions, in particular, the spirit of Persephone herself, returned from the dead with her new-born son, conceived in the land of death. The Greeks were sophisticated about drama and it is highly unlikely that they could have been duped by some kind of theatrical trick, especially since it is people as intelligent as the poet Pindar and the tragedian Sophocles who have testified to the overwhelming value of what was seen at Eleusis. There were physical symptoms, moreover, that accompanied the vision: fear and a trembling in the limbs, vertigo, nausea, and a cold sweat. Then there came the vision, a sight amidst an aura of brilliant light that suddenly flickered through the darkened chamber. Eyes had never before seen the like, and apart from the formal prohibition against telling of what had happened, the experience itself was incommunicable, for there are no words adequate to the task. Even a poet could only say that he had seen the beginning and the end of life and known that they were one, something given by god. The division between earth and sky melted into a pillar of light. These are the symptomatic reactions not to a drama or ceremony, but to a mystical vision; and since the sight could be offered to thousands of initiates each year dependably upon schedule, it seems obvious that an hallucinogen must have induced it. We are confirmed in this conclusion by two further observations: a special potion, as we know, was drunk prior to the visual experience; and secondly, a notorious scandal was uncovered in the classical age, when it was discovered that numerous aristocratic Athenians had begun celebrating the Mystery at home with groups of drunken guests at dinner parties. To identify the Eleusinian drug, we must first find the pattern of meaning that underlies the Mystery. The sacred myth that narrates the events involved in the founding of the Mystery is recorded in the so-called Homeric hymn to Demeter, an anonymous poem dating from the seventh century B. C., seven centuries later than the probable date of the first performance of the ceremony. In it we are told how the goddess Persephone was abducted by her bridegroom Hades to the realm of the dead when she picked a special hundred-headed narkissos while gathering flowers with the daughters of Ocean in a place called Nysa. All Greek words ending in -issos derive from the language spoken by the agrarian cultures dwelling in the Greek lands before the coming of the migrating Indo-European Greeks. The Greeks themselves, however, thought that the narkissos was so-named because of its narcotic properties, obviously because that was the essential nature or symbolism of Persephone's flower. The marital abduction or seizure of maidens while gathering flowers is, moreover, a common theme in Greek myths and Plato records a rationalized version of such stories in which the companion of the seized maiden is named Pharmaceia or, as the name means, the "use of drugs". The particular myth that Plato is rationalizing is in fact one that traced the descent of the priesthood at Eleusis. There can be no doubt that Persephone's abduction was a drug-induced seizure. That fact has never been noticed by Classicists, despite its absolute expectability in terms of what we know about the religions of the agrarian peoples who preceded the Greeks. Those religions centered upon the female's procreativity and the cyclical rebirth and death of both plants and mankind. She was the Great Mother and the entire world was her Child. The essential event in those religions was the Sacred Marriage, in which the priestess periodically communed with the realm of spirits within the earth to renew the agricultural year and the civilized life that grew upon the earth. Her male consort was a vegetative spirit, both her son who grew from the earth and the mate who would abduct her to the fecundating other realm as he possessed her upon his death. When the roving Indo-Europeans settled in the Greek lands, their immortal Father God of the sky, who was Zeus, became assimilated to the pattern of the dying and reborn vegetative consort of the Great Mother. There are indications of this assimilation in the traditions about the Zeus who was born and died in Crete. Furthermore, archaeological remains from the Minoan-Mycenaean period of Greek culture frequently depict visionary experience encountered by women engaged in rituals involving flowers. The priestesses or goddesses themselves occur as idols decorated with vegetative motifs, accompanied by their serpent consort or crowned with a diadem of opium capsules. Moreover, the myths that narrate the founding of the various Mycenean citadels show, as we might expect, recurrent variations upon the Sacred Marriage enacted between the immigrant founder and the autochthonous female in ecstatic contexts. Most interesting among these are the traditions about Mykenai (Mycenae) itself, for it was said to have been founded when the female of that place lost her head to the male of the new dynasty, who had picked a mushroom. The etymology of Mykenai, which was recognized in antiquity but has been repeatedly rejected by modern scholars, is correctly derived from Mykene, the bride of the mykes or mushroom. Fungoid manifestations of the vegetative consort in the Sacred Marriage can also be detected in the symbolism of the founding fathers at other Mycenaean sites, perhaps because that particular wave of immigrants brought knowledge of the wild and untameable mushroom with them on their movement south into the Greek lands. At Athens in the classical period, the ancient Sacred Marriage was still celebrated annually by the wife of the sacral head of state: in the month of February, she would unite with the god Dionysus. It was as Dionysus that the Zeus who had been assimilated as consort to the Mother Goddess survived into the classical period. His name designates him as the Zeus of Nysa, for Dios is a form of the word Zeus. Nysa was not only, as we have seen, the place where Persephone was abducted, but also the name for wherever was enacted that same nuptial encounter involving the passion of Dionysus" birth and death. When he possessed his women devotees, the maenads or bacchants, he was synonymous with Hades, the lord of death and bridegroom to the goddess Persephone. The maenads, like Persephone, also gathered flowers. We know this because their emblem was the thyrsos, a fennel stalk stuffed with ivy leaves; such hollow stalks were customarily used by herb gatherers as receptacles for their cuttings, and the ivy that was stuffed into the maenads" stalks was sacred to Dionysus and reputed to be a psychotropic plant. Dionysus, however, could possess his ecstatic brides through the agency of other plants as well, for he was the vegetative consort residing in all manner of inebriants, including apparently certain of the fungi. The stipe, by analogy to the maenads" emblem, was also called a thyrsos, with the mushroom's cap substituted for the psychotropic herbs. Dionysus himself was born prematurely in the mystical seventh month during a winter snowfall when his celestial father struck his earth bride Semele at Thebes with a bolt of lightning; in the same manner mushrooms were thought to be engendered wherever lightning struck the earth. The father of Dionysus was another Dionysus, as would be expected in a Sacred Marriage, for the child born at the time of the earth's renewal is identical with the ingested consort who will reunite his mother-bride with the awesome nether realm from which life must forever be reborn. Thus not surprisingly we are told that Semele also conceived Dionysus when she drank a potion compounded of her own son's heart. So too was Dionysus like his father also called the thunderer, for despite the gentleness of his infancy and his sometimes effeminate appearance, he could suddenly metamorphose into the virulence of his full manhood, in which form he was a bull, rending the earth, as at his birth, announced by a bellowing, the mykema that signified the presence of the mykes or mushroom. His symbol was the phallos itself, by a common metaphor also called the mykes. It was with the vine, however, and its fermented juice that Dionysus was chiefly associated. Mushrooms themselves in fact were considered a fermentation of the earth, a perfect symbol of rebirth from the cold realm of putrefaction that was the mouldy other world. A similar process was sensed in the frothing turmoil whereby the fungal yeast converted grapes into wine. In wine the god had found his greatest blessing for mankind; here his untameable, wild nature had succumbed to domestication. He himself was said to have first discovered the properties of this plant that had grown from the spilled blood of the gods when he noticed a serpent drinking its toxin from the fruit, for serpents were thought to derive their poisons from the herbs they ate, just as conversely it was said that serpents could transfer their toxins to plants in their vicinity. Dionysus taught man the way to calm this gift's violent nature by diluting it with water. And customarily it was mixed with water that the Greeks drank their wines. This custom of diluting wine deserves our attention since the Greeks did not know the art of distillation and hence the alcoholic content of their wines could not have exceeded about fourteen per cent, at which concentration the alcohol from natural fermentation becomes fatal to the fungus that produced it, thereby terminating the process. Simple evaporation without distillation could not increase the alcoholic content since alcohol, which has a lower boiling point than water, will merely escape to the air, leaving the final product weaker instead of more concentrated. Alcohol in fact was never isolated as the toxin in wine and there is no word for it in ancient Greek. Hence the dilution of wine, usually with at least three parts of water, could be expected to produce a drink of slight inebriating properties. That, however, was not the case. The word for drunkenness in Greek designates a state of raving madness. We hear of some wines so strong that they could be diluted with twenty parts of water and that required at least eight parts water to be drunk safely, for, according to report, the drinking of certain wines straight actually caused permanent brain damage and in some cases even death. Just three small cups of diluted wine were enough in fact to bring the drinker to the threshold of madness. Obviously the alcohol could not have been the cause of these extreme reactions. We can also document the fact that different wines were capable of inducing different physical symptoms, ranging from slumber to insomnia and hallucinations. The solution to this apparent contradiction is simply that ancient wine, like the wine of most early peoples, did not contain alcohol as its sole inebriant but was ordinarily a variable infusion of herbal toxins in a vinous liquid. Unguents, spices, and herbs, all with recognized psychotropic properties, could be added to the wine at the ceremony of its dilution with water. A description of such a ceremony occurs in Homer's Odyssey, where Helen prepares a special wine by adding the euphoric nepenthes to the wine that she serves her husband and his guest. The fact is that the Greeks had devised a spectrum of ingredients for their drinks, each with is own properties. Thus the wine of Dionysus was the principle medium whereby the classical Greeks continued to partake of the ancient ecstasy resident in all the vegetative forms that were the Earth's child. In social situations, the drinking was regulated by a leader, who determined the degree of inebriation that he would impose upon the revelers as they ceremonially drank a measured sequence of toasts. At sacral events, the wine would be more potent and the express purpose of the drinking was to induce that deeper drunkenness in which the presence of the deity could be felt. The herbal inebriants that figured in these Dionysian rites of drinking required magical procedures when the herbs were gathered. As wild beings whose spirits were akin to their particular guardian animals, the plants were the objects of a hunt. And the ecstatic rapture they might induce in religious contexts inevitably identified them as sexual forces. Thus the female devotees of the god Dionysus appropriately bore the thyrsos as their emblem as they roamed the winter mountainsides in search of the so-called vine that grew suddenly with earth-rending thunder and the bellowing of bulls amidst their night-long dancing; that beloved child, the age-old serpent consort, was the object of their hunt, who was suckled, then like a beast torn to pieces and eaten raw; his own mothers, as was often claimed, were guilty of cannibalism eating his flesh, for like mothers the women would have brought the drug into being, harvesting and compounding it with the help of the god's so-called nurses, in whose loving care he would grow to manhood, eventually to possess them as his brides. Such ceremonies enacted the sacred nuptials of the city's women, who thereby entered the awesome alliance with the nether lord, upon whose realm depended the growth of all this world's fertility of plants and man. Persephone's abduction at Nysa was prototypic of that first nuptial between the realms, the primal experience of death. In the hunting place called Agrai, in the month of February, which was called the time of flowers, the candidates for the coming initiation at Eleusis experienced in some way the death of Persephone through the ritual mimeses of those Dionysian events. That occurrence was termed the Lesser Mystery and it was considered a preliminary for the vision of the Greater Mystery that would take place at the time of the autumn sowing in September. The Greater Mystery was the complement of the Lesser, for it centered upon redemption instead of death, the triumphant return of Persephone from Hades with the infant son she had conceived during her sojourn in communion with the spiritual realm. The Homeric hymn, after its account of Persephone's fatal nuptial encounter, goes on to tell how Demeter came to establish the Greater Mystery. In grief for her lost daughter, she went to Eleusis. Her journey there is a sympathetic imitation of Persephone's entrance into the citadel of Hades, for Eleusis was a simulacrum of the other word, where Demeter too would experience the ominous chthonic phase of her womanhood, not as sacred queen to the lord of death, but as witch and wet-nurse in his house, for when Persephone progresses beyond maidenhood, her mother must make way, relinquishing her former role and moving on to the third stage, when a woman's aging womb brings her once again into proximity with the powers of death. These chthonic or earth-oriented phases of womanhood were symbolized in the goddess Hecate, whose triform body expressed the female's totality as bride, wife, and aged nurse in Hades" realm. At Eleusis, Demeter first attempts to assuage her grief by negating the possibility of the world of death to which she has lost her daughter. She does this by nourishing the royal prince with immortality. His mother, however, objects, for she cannot understand or accept a system that would inevitably alienate the son from his own mother's realm as irredeemably as Persephone from Demeter. Demeter again attempts a solution, this time an eternity of death, in which she and the maiden would stay forever in their chthonic phase. She causes a plague of sterility so that no life can emerge from the earth. This solution, however, leaves no role for the immortal deities of the sky, whose delicate balance with the forces of the earth is dependent upon the continuing worship of mortal men, who share with them the fruits of life. The final solution is to heal the universe into which death has now intruded by admitting also the possibility of return into life. Rebirth from death was the secret of Eleusis. In Hades, Persephone, like the earth itself, takes seed into her body and thereby eternally comes back to her ecstatic mother with her new son, only to die as eternally in his fecundating embrace. The sign of the redemption was an ear of barley, the risen grain, that following the Mystery would be committed once again to the cold earth in the sowing of the sacred plain adjacent to Eleusis. This was the final mediation that Demeter taught to a second of the royal princes in the citadel of Eleusis. His name was Triptolemus, the trifold warrior, and he becomes the apostle of the new faith, traveling throughout the world on a serpent chariot spreading the gospel of the cultivation of grain. His exact identity was part of the secret of the Mystery, for the various traditions about his parentage suggest that the initiates learned that, like the grain that was his emblem, he was actually the son of the trifold females who were the queens in the house of the lord of death. He was, therefore, another form of Dionysus, who in a similar fashion also was an apostle, traveling in the same manner of cart on his journey teaching man the cultivation of the vine. The pattern indicated in these Eleusinian apostleships clearly signifies the transition from wild botanic growth to the arts of cultivation upon which civilized life must depend. In the various Eleusinian mythical traditions, several other male figures symbolize a similar transmutation of the wild horror and loss that is death into the ravishingly handsome young man who is born from Hades" realm in pledge of the coming redemption. In one such tradition, he is Iakchos (Iacchus), the joyous Dionysian male who led the initiates toward their vision of salvation; in another, Eubuleus, the serene personification of the cosmological plan wherein the celestial immortals collaborated with the forces of death to show humankind its proper role; in a third, Zagreus, the enigmatic hunting companion of his ecstatic brides. The fourth and most perfect of these transmuted figures is Ploutos, the personification of the wealth that stems from the fertility of man and field. The initiate could expect that this beneficent representative of death would thereafter become welcome in his house as his constant guest, joined by ties of friendship. This Ploutos was originally the vegetative son of Demeter in her more ancient days as Great Mother on Crete, where she conceived him in a thrice plowed field when she united with her intoxicating mate whose name was Iasion, which means "the man of the drug". Triptolemus, however, was the paramount transmutation, Demeter's special response to the problem of death. It was his sacred barley, solemnly grown in the Rarian plain and threshed on his floor, that was the principle ingredient in the potion drunk by the initiates in preparation for the culminating vision. The formula for that potion is recorded in the Homeric hymn. In addition to the barley, it contained water and a fragrant mint called blechon. The mint initially would seem the most likely candidate for the psychoactive agent in the potion, except that all our evidence about this particular mint indicates that it was unsuitable, being neither sufficiently psychotropic to warrant the danger of profane usage nor appropriately revered as the secret drug. Rather, it was openly despised as a sign of the illicit union of man and woman in lustful concubinage without the sacrament of marriage. To just such an unsanctified abduction Demeter had lost her daughter at Nysa and accordingly we are told that the mother vented her displeasure by changing the prostitute of Hades into mint, thereupon grinding and bruising her botanic body. The final Eleusinian solution, on the other hand, will reconcile the mother to the daughter's loss through legitimatizing the nuptial abduction in the rite of matrimony, whereby an heir can accede to the dynastic house. Barley and not mint is the revelation at Eleusis, and it is to it that we must look for the sacred drug. With the cultivation of grain, man had left his wild, nomadic ways and settled in cities, giving to the earth in order to receive back its harvest. All civilized institutions derived from this delicate accord struck with the dark, cold forces of death. Grain itself was thought to be a hybrid, carefully evolved from more primitive grasses. If not tended with proper care, it could be expected to revert to its worthless, inedible avatar. That primitive sibling to grain was thought to be the plant called aira in Greek, Lolium temulentum in botanical nomenclature, or commonly in English "wild ryes, darned cockle, ivray, or finally "tares" in the Bible. This weed is usually infested with a fungoid growth, Claviceps purpurea, ergot or rust, a reddening corruption to which barley was thought to be particularly susceptible. Aira, therefore, doubly endangered the cultivated staff of life, first as the renascent primordial grass and secondly as the host for the encroaching ergot infection. The revertive tendency of the infected grain, furthermore, was all too obvious, for when the sclerotia fell to the ground there grew from them not grain but tiny purple mushrooms, the fruiting bodies of the ergot fungus, clearly a return to the species of the unregenerate, wild Dionysian abductor. Unlike the seedless mushroom, however, ergot would have seemed akin to the kernels of grain that were its host. As well as grain, therefore, it too was Demeter's plant, for she could wear its distinctive color as her robe or on her feet or be named with its epithet, Erysibe. The hallucinogenic properties of Claviceps were recognized in antiquity, and thus we may surmise that the parallel apostleships of the barley and the vine would have signified analogous transmutations wherein the chthonic spirits submitted to cultivation. Wine, however, was Dionysus" realm, the liquid that gave sleep like death and forgetfulness, whereas Demeter was the earth, dry with the harvest upon which man fed to live. Grain was her sacrament. Upon first coming to Eleusis, Demeter had refused the cup of wine and the initiates thereafter imitated her abstention in deference to the superior symbolism of the potion of barley. Clearly ergot of barley is the likely psychotropic ingredient in the Eleusinian potion. Its seeming symbiotic relationship to the barley signified an appropriate expropriation and transmutation of the Dionysian spirit to which the grain, Demeter's daughter, was lost in the nuptial embrace with earth. Grain and ergot together, moreover, were joined in a bisexual union as siblings, bearing at the time of the maiden's loss already the potential for her own return and for the birth of the phalloid son that would grow from her body. A similar hermaphroditism occurs in the mythical traditions about the grotesquely fertile woman whose obscene jests were said to have cheered Demeter from her grief just before she drank the potion. This solution to the Mystery of Eleusis is made still more probable by a papyrus fragment that was brought to my attention by our translator of the Homeric hymn. The fragment preserves a portion of the Demes, a comedy by Eupolis written shortly after the scandal of the profanation of the Mystery in the fifth century B. C. It confirms that the profanation did indeed entail the drinking of the sacred kykeon and suggests that our identification of the drug it contained is correct. In the comedy, an informer explains to a judge how he had come upon someone who had obviously been drinking the potion since he had barley groats on his moustache. The accused had bribed the informer to say that it was simply porridge and not the potion that he had drunk. By a possible pun, the comedian may even indicate that the incriminating "crumbs of barley" were "purples of barley". Thus we may now venture past the forbidden gates and reconstruct the scene within the great initiation hall at Eleusis. The preparation of the potion was the central event. With elaborate pageantry, the hierophant, the priest who traced his descent back to the first performance of the Mystery, removed the sclerotia of ergot from the free-standing room constructed inside the telesterion over the remains of the original temple that had stood there in Mycenaean times. As he performed the service, he intoned ancient chants in a falsetto voice, for his role in the Mystery was asexual, a male who had sacrificed his gender to the Great Goddess. He conveyed the grain in chalices to the priestesses, who then danced throughout the hall, balancing the vessels and lamps upon their heads. The grain was next mixed with mint and water in urns, from which the sacred potion was then ladled into the special cups for the initiates to drink their share. Finally, in acknowledgment of their readiness, they all chanted that they had drunk the potion and had handled the secret objects that had come with them on the Sacred Road in sealed baskets. Then, seated on the tiers of steps that lined the walls of the cavernous hall, in darkness they waited. From the potion they gradually entered into ecstasy. You must remember that this potion—an hallucinogen—under the right set and setting, disturbs man's inner ear and trips astonishing ventriloquistic effects. We can rest assured that the hierophants, with generations of experience, knew all the secrets of set and setting. I am sure that there was music, probably both vocal and instrumental, not loud but with authority, coming from hither and yon, now from the depths of the earth, now from outside, now a mere whisper infiltrating the ear, flitting from place to place unaccountably. The hierophants may well have known the art of releasing into the air various perfumes in succession, and they must have contrived the music for a crescendo of expectation, until suddenly the inner chamber was flung open and spirits of light entered the room, subdued lights I think, not blinding, and among them the spirit of Persephone with her new-born son just returned from Hades. She would arrive just as the hierophant raised his voice in ancient measures reserved for the Mystery: "The Terrible Queen has given birth to her son, the Terrible One". This divine birth of the Lord of the Nether World was accompanied by the bellowing roar of a gong-like instrument that outdid, for the ecstatic audience, the mightiest thunderclap, coming from the bowels of the earth. Some Christian bishops, in the last days of the Mystery, thought they had discovered and could reveal the secret of Eleusis. One said that in this pagan rite there was materialized a stalk of barley. How true according to his limited lights, yet how utterly false. The Bishop had not known the night of nights at Eleusis. He was like one who has not known LSD or the mushrooms of Mexico or the morning-glory seeds. For close on to two thousand years a few of the ancient Greeks passed each year through the portals of Eleusis. There they celebrated the divine gift to mankind of the cultivated grain and they were also initiated into the awe some powers of the nether world through the purple dark of the grain's sibling that Dr Hofmann has once again made accessible to our generation. The myths of Demeter and Persephone and all their company fit our explanation in every respect. Nothing in any of them is incompatible with our thesis. Until yesterday we knew of Eleusis only what little a few of the initiates told us but the spell of their words had held generations of mankind enthralled. Now, thanks to Dr Hofmann and Gordon Wasson, those of us who have experienced the superior hallucinogens may join the fellowship of the ancient initiates in a lasting bond of friendship, a friendship born of a shared experience of a reality deeper far than we had known before.
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