The philosophers and theologians who treated of the nature of the Divine Being shared the blessed lot of the priests and soothsayers who interpreted His will. Their doctrine came to them by inspiration from on high, or at least so they readily believed. Their intelligence, which was lit by a divine ray, penetrated the world’s mysteries and subjected it to their will. _Philosophus_ became a synonym for thaumaturge. Even in this life the superior mind of the philosophers allowed them to escape the necessities by which other men were oppressed, and this reason returned after death to the source of all intelligence. But all knowledge came from God. It was He who gave light to the wise man, absorbed in austere research, and caused him to discover truth. It was He too who inspired the poet, who worked in him when enthusiasm carried him away; He likewise who gave to the artist the faculty of apprehending and expressing beauty, to the musician the power to recall by his chords the sublime harmony of the celestial spheres. All who gave themselves up to works of the intellect had a part in the godhead. They were purified by the high pursuit of spiritual joy and freed thereby from the passions of the body and the oppression of matter. For this reason the Muses are frequently represented on tombs; beautiful sarcophagi are decorated with the figures of the nine sisters. Thanks to these goddesses, mortals were delivered from earthly misery and led back towards the sacred light of the heavens. Thus the spirits of all men distinguished above their fellows were one day to find themselves gathered together in the dwelling-place of the heroes. This conception made the future life a reward for eminent service rendered to the state or humanity. Its origin certainly went very far back: it is found among primitive peoples, in reference to the famous warriors of the tribes, and it never ceased to be accepted in ancient Greece. But towards the end of the Roman Republic it was more generally admitted than ever before. It was in harmony with the constitution of an aristocratic society in which it seemed that even posthumous honours should be reserved for the elect. Some modern thinkers and poets have shared the ancient feeling which inspired it. Carducci, who disliked the critics of Milan, thought that they might well perish wholly, but that the great spirits like Dante, whom he interpreted,—and doubtless also this interpreter himself,—were saved.[271] Matthew Arnold also in an admirable sonnet strongly defends the faith in a limited immortality. Let me recall to you the last verses: