neighbour's. The former is a benignant spirit, who will do him good even at the expense of others. The latter is a malevolent being, who will steal his hay and drive away his poultry for his neighbour's benefit. The disasters of their worshippers, too, extended to their gods. The "vanquished Penates" of the poet might, perhaps, if the expression stood alone, be regarded as a daring image; but both Cicero and the Digest confirm it in its most literal sense. The former tells us that victory made all the sacred things of the Syracusans profane.[1] The Digest very plainly lays down the rule of which the case of Syracuse was an example. It declares[2] that the tombs of our enemies (however holy in their eyes, or however holy our own tombs may be in our own estimation) are not holy to us. It also states[3] that when places are taken by the enemy all things cease to be religious or sacred, just as if free men had come into a state of slavery; but that if they have been freed from this misfortune, they return by a sort of Postliminium, and are restored to their original condition.
The exclusive character of this religion is easily shown when a number of Hellenic clans united for a common object. The bond of their union was the worship of some common god; but, without their express invitation, no stranger to that worship could resort to their sacred feasts or participate in their games. The mere presence of a stranger at religious ceremonies, or even at any holy place, was intolerable. "And this woman," exclaimed Demosthenes,[4] denouncing a gross case of sacrilegious fraud, "offered up the mysterious sacrifices for the welfare of the State, and saw what it was not right for her to see, being an alien; and notwithstanding what she was, entered places to which, out of the whole Athenian community, no
