{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22259/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22259","id":"gutenberg_22259","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22259","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Art","Category: History - Ancient","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Greece","Greece -- Civilization"],"text":"Produced by L.N. Yaddanapudi and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Legacy of GREECE\n\n_Essays by_ GILBERT MURRAY, W. R. INGE,\nJ. BURNET, SIR T. L. HEATH, D'ARCY W.\nTHOMPSON, CHARLES SINGER, R. W.\nLIVINGSTON, A. TOYNBEE, A. E. ZIMMERN,\nPERCY GARDNER, SIR REGINALD BLOMFIELD\n\n_Edited by_\n\nR. W. LIVINGSTONE\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOXFORD\n\nAT THE CLARENDON PRESS\n\n\nPRINTED IN ENGLAND AT THE\nUNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD\nBY JOHN JOHNSON\nPRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY\n\n\n\n\nIn spite of many differences, no age has had closer affinities with\nAncient Greece than our own; none has based its deeper life so largely\non ideals which the Greeks brought into the world. History does not\nrepeat itself. Yet, if the twentieth century searched through the past\nfor its nearest spiritual kin, it is in the fifth and following\ncenturies before Christ that they would be found. Again and again, as we\nstudy Greek thought and literature, behind the veil woven by time and\ndistance, the face that meets us is our own, younger, with fewer lines\nand wrinkles on its features and with more definite and deliberate\npurpose in its eyes. For these reasons we are to-day in a position, as\nno other age has been, to understand Ancient Greece, to learn the\nlessons it teaches, and, in studying the ideals and fortunes of men with\nwhom we have so much in common, to gain a fuller power of understanding\nand estimating our own. This book--the first of its kind in\nEnglish--aims at giving some idea of what the world owes to Greece in\nvarious realms of the spirit and the intellect, and of what it can still\nlearn from her.\n\nTHE EDITOR.\n\n_October 1921._\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n\nTHE VALUE OF GREECE TO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD.\nBy GILBERT MURRAY, F.B.A., Regius Professor of Greek in\nthe University of Oxford                                             1\n\nRELIGION. By W. R. INGE, D.D., Dean of St. Paul's                   25\n\nPHILOSOPHY. By J. BURNETT, F.B.A., Professor of Greek in the\nUniversity of St. Andrews                                           57\n\nMATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY.\nBy Sir T. L. HEATH, K.C.B., K.C.V.O., F.R.S.                        97\n\nNATURAL SCIENCE. By D'ARCY W. THOMPSON, F.R.S.,\nProfessor of Natural History in the University of St. Andrews      137\n\nBIOLOGY. By CHARLES SINGER, Lecturer in the History of Medicine\nin University College, London                                      163\n\nMEDICINE. By CHARLES SINGER                                        201\n\nLITERATURE. By R. W. LIVINGSTONE, Fellow of Corpus Christi\nCollege, Oxford                                                    249\n\nHISTORY. By ARNOLD TOYNBEE, Kora\u00e9s Professor of Byzantine and\nModern Greek Language, Literature, and History in the\nUniversity of London                                               289\n\nPOLITICAL THOUGHT. By A. E. ZIMMERN, late Wilson Professor of\nInternational Politics, University College of Wales, Aberystwyth   321\n\nTHE LAMPS OF GREEK ART. By PERCY GARDNER, F.B.A., Merton\nProfessor of Classical Archaeology in the University of Oxford     353\n\nARCHITECTURE. By Sir REGINALD BLOMFIELD, F.S.A., R.A.              397\n\n\n\n\nTHE VALUE OF GREECE TO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD\n\n\nIf the value of man's life on earth is to be measured in dollars and\nmiles and horse-power, ancient Greece must count as a poverty-stricken\nand a minute territory; its engines and implements were nearer to the\nspear and bow of the savage than to our own telegraph and aeroplane.\nEven if we neglect merely material things and take as our standard the\nactual achievements of the race in conduct and in knowledge, the average\nclerk who goes to town daily, idly glancing at his morning newspaper, is\nprobably a better behaved and infinitely better informed person than the\naverage Athenian who sat spellbound at the tragedies of Aeschylus. It is\nonly by the standard of the spirit, to which the thing achieved is\nlittle and the quality of mind that achieved it much, which cares less\nfor the sum of knowledge attained than for the love of knowledge, less\nfor much good policing than for one free act of heroism, that the great\nage of Greece can be judged as something extraordinary and unique in\nvalue.\n\nBy this standard, if it is a legitimate and reasonable one to apply, we\nshall be able to understand why classical Greek literature was the basis\nof education throughout all later antiquity; why its re-discovery,\nhowever fragmentary and however imperfectly understood, was able to\nintoxicate the keenest minds of Europe and constitute a kind of\nspiritual 'Re-birth', and how its further and further exploration may be\nstill a task worth men's spending their lives upon and capable of giving\nmankind guidance as well as inspiration.\n\nBut is such a standard legitimate and reasonable? We shall gain nothing\nby unanalysed phrases. But I think surely it is merely the natural\nstandard of any philosophical historian. Suppose it is argued that an\naverage optician at the present day knows more optics than Roger Bacon,\nthe inventor of spectacles; suppose it is argued that therefore he is,\nas far as optics go, a greater man, and that Roger Bacon has nothing to\nteach us; what is the answer? It is, I suppose, that Roger Bacon,\nreceiving a certain amount of knowledge from his teachers, had that in\nhim which turned it to unsuspected directions and made it immensely\ngreater and more fruitful. The average optician has probably added a\nlittle to what he was taught, but not much, and has doubtless forgotten\nor confused a good deal. So that, if by studying Roger Bacon's life or\nhis books we could get into touch with his mind and acquire some of that\nspecial moving and inspiring quality of his, it would help us far more\nthan would the mere knowledge of the optician.\n\nThis truth is no doubt hard to see in the case of purely technical\nscience; in books of wider range, such as Darwin's for instance, it is\neasy for any reader to feel the presence of a really great mind,\nproducing inspiration of a different sort from that of the most\nexcellent up-to-date examination text-book. In philosophy, religion,\npoetry, and the highest kinds of art, the greatness of the author's mind\nseems as a rule to be all that matters; one almost ignores the date at\nwhich he worked. This is because in technical sciences the element of\nmere fact, or mere knowledge, is so enormous, the elements of\nimagination, character, and the like so very small. Hence, books on\nscience, in a progressive age, very quickly become 'out of date', and\neach new edition usually supersedes the last. It is the rarest thing for\na work of science to survive as a text-book more than ten years or so.\nNewton's _Principia_ is almost an isolated instance among modern\nwritings.\n\nYet there are some few such books. Up till about the year 1900 the\nelements of geometry were regularly taught, throughout Europe, in a\ntext-book written by a Greek called Eucleides in the fourth or third\ncentury B. C.[1] That text-book lasted over two thousand years. Now, of\ncourse, people have discovered a number of faults in Euclid, but it has\ntaken them all that time to do it.\n\n    [1] Since this paper was first written _Euclid_, Book I, in the\n    Greek, has been edited with a commentary by Sir Thomas Heath\n    (Cambridge Press, 1920). It is full of interest and instruction.\n\nAgain, I knew an old gentleman who told me that, at a good English\nschool in the early nineteenth century, he had been taught the\nprinciples of grammar out of a writer called Dionysius Thrax, or Denis\nof Thrace. Denis was a Greek of the first century B. C., who made or\ncarried out the remarkable discovery that there was such a thing as a\nscience of grammar, i. e. that men in their daily speech were\nunconsciously obeying an extraordinarily subtle and intricate body of\nlaws, which were capable of being studied and reduced to order. Denis\ndid not make the whole discovery himself; he was led to it by his master\nAristarchus and others. And his book had been re-edited several times in\nthe nineteen-hundred odd years before this old gentleman was taught it.\n\nTo take a third case: all through later antiquity and the middle ages\nthe science of medicine was based on the writings of two ancient\ndoctors, Hippocrates and Galen. Galen was a Greek who lived at Rome in\nthe early Empire, Hippocrates a Greek who lived at the island of Cos in\nthe fifth century B. C. A great part of the history of modern medicine\nis a story of emancipation from the dead hand of these great ancients.\nBut one little treatise attributed to Hippocrates was in active use in\nthe training of medical students in my own day in Scotland and is still\nin use in some American Universities. It was the Oath taken by medical\nstudents in the classic age of Greece when they solemnly faced the\nduties of their profession. The disciple swore to honour and obey his\nteacher and care for his children if ever they were in need; always to\nhelp his patients to the best of his power; never to use or profess to\nuse magic or charms or any supernatural means; never to supply poison or\nperform illegal operations; never to abuse the special position of\nintimacy which a doctor naturally obtains in a sick house, but always on\nentering to remember that he goes as a friend and helper to every\nindividual in it.\n\nWe have given up that oath now: I suppose we do not believe so much in\nthe value of oaths. But the man who first drew up that oath did a great\ndeed. He realized and defined the meaning of his high calling in words\nwhich doctors of unknown tongues and undiscovered countries accepted\nfrom him and felt to express their aims for well over two thousand\nyears.\n\nNow what do I want to illustrate by these three instances? The rapidity\nwith which we are now at last throwing off the last vestiges of the yoke\nof Greece? No, not that. I want to point out that even in the realm of\nscience, where progress is so swift and books so short-lived, the Greeks\nof the great age had such genius and vitality that their books lived in\na way that no others have lived. Let us get away from the thought of\nEuclid as an inky and imperfect English school-book, to that ancient\nEucleides who, with exceedingly few books but a large table of sand let\ninto the floor, planned and discovered and put together and re-shaped\nthe first laws of geometry, till at last he had written one of the great\nsimple books of the world, a book which should stand a pillar and beacon\nto mankind long after all the political world that Eucleides knew had\nbeen swept away and the kings he served were conquered by the Romans,\nand the Romans in course of time conquered by the barbarians, and the\nbarbarians themselves, with much labour and reluctance, partly by means\nof Eucleides' book, eventually educated; so that at last, in our own\nday, they can manage to learn their geometry without it. The time has\ncome for Euclid to be superseded; let him go. He has surely held the\ntorch for mankind long enough; and books of science are born to be\nsuperseded. What I want to suggest is that the same extraordinary\nvitality of mind which made Hippocrates and Euclid and even Denis of\nThrace last their two thousand years, was also put by the Greeks of the\ngreat age into those activities which are, for the most part at any\nrate, not perishable or progressive but eternal.\n\nThis is a simple point, but it is so important that we must dwell on it\nfor a moment. If we read an old treatise on medicine or mechanics, we\nmay admire it and feel it a work of genius, but we also feel that it is\nobsolete: its work is over; we have got beyond it. But when we read\nHomer or Aeschylus, if once we have the power to admire and understand\ntheir writing, we do not for the most part have any feeling of having\ngot beyond them. We have done so no doubt in all kinds of minor things,\nin general knowledge, in details of technique, in civilization and the\nlike; but hardly any sensible person ever imagines that he has got\nbeyond their essential quality, the quality that has made them great.\n\nDoubtless there is in every art an element of mere knowledge or science,\nand that element is progressive. But there is another element, too,\nwhich does not depend on knowledge and which does not progress but has a\nkind of stationary and eternal value, like the beauty of the dawn, or\nthe love of a mother for her child, or the joy of a young animal in\nbeing alive, or the courage of a martyr facing torment. We cannot for\nall our progress get beyond these things; there they stand, like light\nupon the mountains. The only question is whether we can rise to them.\nAnd it is the same with all the greatest births of human imagination. As\nfar as we can speculate, there is not the faintest probability of any\npoet ever setting to work on, let us say, the essential effect aimed at\nby Aeschylus in the Cassandra-scene of the _Agamemnon_, and doing it\nbetter than Aeschylus. The only thing which the human race has to do\nwith that scene is to understand it and get out of it all the joy and\nemotion and wonder that it contains.\n\nThis eternal quality is perhaps clearest in poetry: in poetry the\nmixture of knowledge matters less. In art there is a constant\ndevelopment of tools and media and technical processes. The modern\nartist can feel that, though he cannot, perhaps, make as good a statue\nas Pheidias, he could here and there have taught Pheidias something: and\nat any rate he can try his art on subjects far more varied and more\nstimulating to his imagination. In philosophy the mixture is more subtle\nand more profound. Philosophy always depends in some sense upon science,\nyet the best philosophy seems generally to have in it some eternal\nquality of creative imagination. Plato wrote a dialogue about the\nconstitution of the world, the _Timaeus_, which was highly influential\nin later Greece, but seems to us, with our vastly superior scientific\nknowledge, almost nonsensical. Yet when Plato writes about the theory of\nknowledge or the ultimate meaning of Justice or of Love, no good\nphilosopher can afford to leave him aside: the chief question is whether\nwe can rise to the height and subtlety of his thought.\n\nAnd here another point emerges, equally simple and equally important if\nwe are to understand our relation to the past. Suppose a man says: 'I\nquite understand that Plato or Aeschylus may have had fine ideas, but\nsurely anything of value which they said must long before this have\nbecome common property. There is no need to go back to the Greeks for\nit. We do not go back and read Copernicus to learn that the earth goes\nround the sun.' What is the answer? It is that such a view ignores\nexactly this difference between the progressive and the eternal, between\nknowledge and imagination. If Harvey discovers that the blood is not\nstationary but circulates, if Copernicus discovers that the earth goes\nround the sun and not the sun round the earth, those discoveries can\neasily be communicated in the most abbreviated form. If a mechanic\ninvents an improvement on the telephone, or a social reformer puts some\ngood usage in the place of a bad one, in a few years we shall probably\nall be using the improvement without even knowing what it is or saying\nThank you. We may be as stupid as we like, we have in a sense got the\ngood of it.\n\nBut can one apply the same process to _Macbeth_ or _Romeo and Juliet_?\nCan any one tell us in a few words what they come to? Or can a person\nget the good of them in any way except one--the way of vivid and loving\nstudy, following and feeling the author's meaning all through? To\nsuppose, as I believe some people do, that you can get the value of a\ngreat poem by studying an abstract of it in an encyclopaedia or by\nreading cursorily an average translation of it, argues really a kind of\nmental deficiency, like deafness or colour-blindness. The things that we\nhave called eternal, the things of the spirit and the imagination,\nalways seem to lie more in a process than in a result, and can only be\nreached and enjoyed by somehow going through the process again. If the\nvalue of a particular walk lies in the scenery, you do not get that\nvalue by taking a short cut or using a fast motor-car.\n\nIn looking back, then, upon any vital and significant age of the past we\nshall find objects of two kinds. First, there will be things like the\nVenus of Milo or the Book of Job or Plato's _Republic_, which are\ninteresting or precious in themselves, because of their own inherent\nqualities; secondly, there will be things like the Roman code of the\nTwelve Tables or the invention of the printing-press or the record of\ncertain great battles, which are interesting chiefly because they are\ncauses of other and greater things or form knots in the great web of\nhistory--the first having artistic interest, the second only historical\ninterest, though, of course, it is obvious that in any concrete case\nthere is generally a mixture of both.\n\nNow Ancient Greece is important in both ways. For the artist or poet it\nhas in a quite extraordinary degree the quality of beauty. For instance,\nto take a contrast with Rome: if you dig about the Roman Wall in\nCumberland you will find quantities of objects, altars, inscriptions,\nfigurines, weapons, boots and shoes, which are full of historic interest\nbut are not much more beautiful than the contents of a modern rubbish\nheap. And the same is true of most excavations all over the world. But\nif you dig at any classical or sub-classical site in the Greek world,\nhowever unimportant historically, practically every object you find will\nbe beautiful. The wall itself will be beautiful; the inscriptions will\nbe beautifully cut; the figurines, however cheap and simple, may have\nsome intentional grotesques among them, but the rest will have a special\ntruthfulness and grace; the vases will be of good shapes and the\npatterns will be beautiful patterns. If you happen to dig in a\nburying-place and come across some epitaphs on the dead, they will\npractically all--even when the verses do not quite scan and the words\nare wrongly spelt--have about them this inexplicable touch of beauty.\n\nI am anxious not to write nonsense about this. One could prove the point\nin detail by taking any collection of Greek epitaphs, and that is the\nonly way in which it can be proved. The beauty is a fact, and if we try\nto analyse the sources of it we shall perhaps in part understand how it\nhas come to pass.\n\nIn the first place, it is not a beauty of ornament; it is a beauty of\nstructure, a beauty of rightness and simplicity. Compare an athlete in\nflannels playing tennis and a stout dignitary smothered in gold robes.\nOr compare a good modern yacht, swift, lithe, and plain, with a\nlumbering heavily gilded sixteenth-century galleon, or even with a\nChinese state junk: the yacht is far the more beautiful though she has\nnot a hundredth part of the ornament. It is she herself that is\nbeautiful, because her lines and structure are right. The others are\nessentially clumsy and, therefore, ugly things, dabbed over with gold\nand paint. Now ancient Greek things for the most part have the beauty of\nthe yacht. The Greeks used paint a good deal, but apart from that a\nGreek temple is almost as plain as a shed: people accustomed to\narabesques and stained glass and gargoyles can very often see nothing in\nit. A Greek statue has as a rule no ornament at all: a young man racing\nor praying, an old man thinking, there it stands expressed in a stately\nand simple convention, true or false, the anatomy and the surfaces right\nor wrong, aiming at no beauty except the truest. It would probably seem\nquite dull to the maker of a mediaeval wooden figure of a king which I\nremember seeing in a town in the east of Europe: a crown blazing with\nmany-coloured glass, a long crimson robe covered with ornaments and\nbeneath them an idiot face, no bones, no muscles, no attitude. That is\nnot what a Greek meant by beauty. The same quality holds to a great\nextent of Greek poetry. Not, of course, that the artistic convention was\nthe same, or at all similar, for treating stone and for treating\nlanguage. Greek poetry is statuesque in the sense that it depends\ngreatly on its organic structure; it is not in the least so in the sense\nof being cold or colourless or stiff. But Greek poetry on the whole has\na bareness and severity which disappoints a modern reader, accustomed as\nhe is to lavish ornament and exaggeration at every turn. It has the\nsame simplicity and straightforwardness as Greek sculpture. The poet has\nsomething to say and he says it as well and truly as he can in the\nsuitable style, and if you are not interested you are not. With some\nexceptions which explain themselves he does not play a thousand pretty\ntricks and antics on the way, so that you may forget the dullness of\nwhat he says in amusement at the draperies in which he wraps it.\n\nBut here comes an apparent difficulty. Greek poetry, we say, is very\ndirect, very simple, very free from irrelevant ornament. And yet when we\ntranslate it into English and look at our translation, our main feeling,\nI think, is that somehow the glory has gone: a thing that was high and\nlordly has become poor and mean. Any decent Greek scholar when he opens\none of his ancient poets feels at once the presence of something lofty\nand rare--something like the atmosphere of _Paradise Lost_. But the\nlanguage of _Paradise Lost_ is elaborately twisted and embellished into\nloftiness and rarity; the language of the Greek poem is simple and\ndirect. What does this mean?\n\nI can only suppose that the normal language of Greek poetry is in itself\nin some sense sublime. Most critics accept this as an obvious fact, yet,\nif true, it is a very strange fact and worth thinking about. It depends\npartly on mere euphony: _Khaireis hor\u00f4n f\u00f4s_ is probably more beautiful\nin sound than 'You rejoice to see the light', but euphony cannot be\neverything. The sound of a great deal of Greek poetry, either as we\npronounce it, or as the ancients pronounced it, is to modern ears almost\nugly. It depends partly, perhaps, on the actual structure of the Greek\nlanguage: philologists tell us that, viewed as a specimen, it is in\nstructure and growth and in power of expressing things, the most perfect\nlanguage they know. And certainly one often finds that a thought can be\nexpressed with ease and grace in Greek which becomes clumsy and involved\nin Latin, English, French or German. But neither of these causes goes,\nI think, to the root of the matter.\n\nWhat is it that gives words their character and makes a style high or\nlow? Obviously, their associations; the company they habitually keep in\nthe minds of those who use them. A word which belongs to the language of\nbars and billiard saloons will become permeated by the normal standard\nof mind prevalent in such places; a word which suggests Milton or\nCarlyle will have the flavour of those men's minds about it. I therefore\ncannot resist the conclusion that, if the language of Greek poetry has,\nto those who know it intimately, this special quality of keen austere\nbeauty, it is because the minds of the poets who used that language were\nhabitually toned to a higher level both of intensity and of nobility\nthan ours. It is a finer language because it expresses the minds of\nfiner men. By 'finer men' I do not necessarily mean men who behaved\nbetter, either by our standards or by their own; I mean men to whom the\nfine things of the world, sunrise and sea and stars and the love of man\nfor man, and strife and the facing of evil for the sake of good, and\neven common things like meat and drink, and evil things like hate and\nterror, had, as it were, a keener edge than they have for us and roused\na swifter and a nobler reaction.\n\nLet us resume this argument before going further. We start from the\nindisputable fact that the Greeks of about the fifth century B. C. did\nfor some reason or other produce various works of art, buildings and\nstatues and books, especially books, which instead of decently dying or\nfalling out of fashion in the lifetime of the men who made them, lasted\non and can still cause high thoughts and intense emotions. In trying to\nexplain this strange fact we notice that the Greeks had a great and\npervading instinct for beauty, and for beauty of a particular kind. It\nis a beauty which never lies in irrelevant ornament, but always in the\nvery essence and structure of the object made. In literature we found\nthat the special beauty which we call Greek depends partly on the\ndirectness, truthfulness, and simplicity with which the Greeks say what\nthey want to say, and partly on a special keenness and nobility in the\nlanguage, which seems to be the natural expression of keen and noble\nminds. Can we in any way put all these things together so as to explain\nthem--or at any rate to hold them together more clearly?\n\nAn extremely old and often misleading metaphor will help us. People have\nsaid: 'The world was young then.' Of course, strictly speaking, it was\nnot. In the total age of the world or of man the two thousand odd years\nbetween us and Pericles do not count for much. Nor can we imagine that a\nman of sixty felt any more juvenile in the fifth century B. C. than he\ndoes now. It was just the other way, because at that time there were no\nspectacles or false teeth. Yet in a sense the world _was_ young then, at\nany rate our western world, the world of progress and humanity. For the\nbeginnings of nearly all the great things that progressive minds now\ncare for were then being laid in Greece.\n\nYouth, perhaps, is not exactly the right word. There are certain\nplants--some kinds of aloe, for instance--which continue for an\nindefinite number of years in a slow routine of ordinary life close to\nthe ground, and then suddenly, when they have stored enough vital force,\ngrow ten feet high and burst into flower, after which, no doubt, they\ndie or show signs of exhaustion. Apart from the dying, it seems as if\nsomething like that happened from time to time to the human race, or to\nsuch parts of it as really bear flowers at all. For most races and\nnations during the most of their life are not progressive but simply\nstagnant, sometimes just managing to preserve their standard customs,\nsometimes slipping back to the slough. That is why history has nothing\nto say about them. The history of the world consists mostly in the\nmemory of those ages, quite few in number, in which some part of the\nworld has risen above itself and burst into flower or fruit.\n\nWe ourselves happen to live in the midst or possibly in the close of one\nsuch period. More change has probably taken place in daily life, in\nideas, and in the general aspect of the earth during the last century\nthan during any four other centuries since the Christian era: and this\nfact has tended to make us look on rapid progress as a normal condition\nof the human race, which it never has been. And another such period of\nbloom, a bloom comparatively short in time and narrow in area, but\namazingly swift and intense, occurred in the lower parts of the Balkan\npeninsula from about the sixth to the fourth centuries before Christ.\n\nNow it is this kind of bloom which fills the world with hope and\ntherefore makes it young. Take a man who has just made a discovery or an\ninvention, a man happily in love, a man who is starting some great and\nsuccessful social movement, a man who is writing a book or painting a\npicture which he knows to be good; take men who have been fighting in\nsome great cause which before they fought seemed to be hopeless and now\nis triumphant; think of England when the Armada was just defeated,\nFrance at the first dawn of the Revolution, America after Yorktown: such\nmen and nations will be above themselves. Their powers will be stronger\nand keener; there will be exhilaration in the air, a sense of walking in\nnew paths, of dawning hopes and untried possibilities, a confidence that\nall things can be won if only we try hard enough. In that sense the\nworld will be young. In that sense I think it was young in the time of\nThemistocles and Aeschylus. And it is that youth which is half the\nsecret of the Greek spirit.\n\nAnd here I may meet an objection that has perhaps been lurking in the\nminds of many readers. 'All this,' they may say, 'professes to be a\nsimple analysis of known facts, but in reality is sheer idealization.\nThese Greeks whom you call so \"noble\" have been long since exposed.\nAnthropology has turned its searchlights upon them. It is not only their\nploughs, their weapons, their musical instruments, and their painted\nidols that resemble those of the savages; it is everything else about\nthem. Many of them were sunk in the most degrading superstitions: many\npractised unnatural vices: in times of great fear some were apt to think\nthat the best \"medicine\" was a human sacrifice. After that, it is hardly\nworth mentioning that their social structure was largely based on\nslavery; that they lived in petty little towns, like so many wasps'\nnests, each at war with its next-door neighbour, and half of them at war\nwith themselves!'\n\nIf our anti-Greek went further he would probably cease to speak the\ntruth. We will stop him while we can still agree with him. These charges\nare on the whole true, and, if we are to understand what Greece means,\nwe must realize and digest them. We must keep hold of two facts: first,\nthat the Greeks of the fifth century produced some of the noblest poetry\nand art, the finest political thinking, the most vital philosophy, known\nto the world; second, that the people who heard and saw, nay perhaps,\neven the people who produced these wonders, were separated by a thin and\nprecarious interval from the savage. Scratch a civilized Russian, they\nsay, and you find a wild Tartar. Scratch an ancient Greek, and you hit,\nno doubt, on a very primitive and formidable being, somewhere between a\nViking and a Polynesian.\n\nThat is just the magic and the wonder of it. The spiritual effort\nimplied is so tremendous. We have read stories of savage chiefs\nconverted by Christian or Buddhist missionaries, who within a year or so\nhave turned from drunken corroborees and bloody witch-smellings to a\nlife that is not only godly but even philanthropic and statesmanlike. We\nhave seen the Japanese lately go through some centuries of normal growth\nin the space of a generation. But in all such examples men have only\nbeen following the teaching of a superior civilization, and after all,\nthey have not ended by producing works of extraordinary and original\ngenius. It seems quite clear that the Greeks owed exceedingly little to\nforeign influence. Even in their decay they were a race, as Professor\nBury observes, accustomed 'to take little and to give much'. They built\nup their civilization for themselves. We must listen with due attention\nto the critics who have pointed out all the remnants of savagery and\nsuperstition that they find in Greece: the slave-driver, the\nfetish-worshipper and the medicine-man, the trampler on women, the\nbloodthirsty hater of all outside his own town and party. But it is not\nthose people that constitute Greece; those people can be found all over\nthe historical world, commoner than blackberries. It is not anything\nfixed and stationary that constitutes Greece: what constitutes Greece is\nthe movement which leads from all these to the Stoic or fifth-century\n'sophist' who condemns and denies slavery, who has abolished all cruel\nsuperstitions and preaches some religion based on philosophy and\nhumanity, who claims for women the same spiritual rights as for man, who\nlooks on all human creatures as his brethren, and the world as 'one\ngreat City of gods and men'. It is that movement which you will not find\nelsewhere, any more than the statues of Pheidias or the dialogues of\nPlato or the poems of Aeschylus and Euripides.\n\nFrom all this two or three results follow. For one thing, being built up\nso swiftly, by such keen effort, and from so low a starting-point, Greek\ncivilization was, amid all its glory, curiously unstable and full of\nflaws. Such flaws made it, of course, much worse for those who lived in\nit, but they hardly make it less interesting or instructive to those who\nstudy it. Rather the contrary. Again, the near neighbourhood of the\nsavage gives to the Greek mind certain qualities which we of the safer\nand solider civilizations would give a great deal to possess. It springs\nswift and straight. It is never jaded. Its wonder and interest about the\nworld are fresh. And lastly there is one curious and very important\nquality which, unless I am mistaken, belongs to Greek civilization more\nthan to any other. To an extraordinary degree it starts clean from\nnature, with almost no entanglements of elaborate creeds and customs and\ntraditions.\n\nI am not, of course, forgetting the prehistoric Minoan civilization, nor\nyet the peculiar forms--mostly simple enough--into which the traditional\nGreek religion fell. It is possible that I may be a little misled by my\nown habit of living much among Greek things and so forgetting through\nlong familiarity how odd some of them once seemed. But when all\nallowances are made, I think that this clean start from nature is, on\nthe whole, a true claim. If a thoughtful European or American wants to\nstudy Chinese or Indian things, he has not only to learn certain data of\nhistory and mythology, he has to work his mind into a particular\nattitude; to put on, as it were, spectacles of a particular sort. If he\nwants to study mediaeval things, if he takes even so universal a poet as\nDante, it is something the same. Curious views about the Pope and the\nemperor, a crabbed scholastic philosophy, a strange and to the modern\nmind rather horrible theology, floating upon the flames of Hell: all\nthese have somehow to be taken into his imagination before he can\nunderstand his Dante. With Greek things this is very much less so. The\nhistorical and imaginative background of the various great poets and\nphilosophers is, no doubt, highly important. A great part of the work of\nmodern scholarship is now devoted to getting it clearer. But on the\nwhole, putting aside for the moment the possible inadequacies of\ntranslation, Greek philosophy speaks straight to any human being who is\nwilling to think simply, Greek art and poetry to any one who can use his\nimagination and enjoy beauty. He has not to put on the fetters or the\nblinkers of any new system in order to understand them; he has only to\nget rid of his own--a much more profitable and less troublesome task.\n\nThis particular conclusion will scarcely, I think, be disputed, but the\npoint presents difficulties and must be dwelt upon.\n\nIn the first place, it does not mean that Greek art is what we call\n'naturalist' or 'realist'. It is markedly the reverse. Art to the Greek\nis always a form of _Sophia_, or Wisdom, a _Techn\u00ea_ with rules that have\nto be learnt. Its air of utter simplicity is deceptive. The pillar that\nlooks merely straight is really a thing of subtle curves. The funeral\nbas-relief that seems to represent in the simplest possible manner a\nwoman saying good-bye to her child is arranged, plane behind plane, with\nthe most delicate skill and sometimes with deliberate falsification of\nperspective. There is always some convention, some idealization, some\ntouch of the light that never was on sea or land. Yet all the time, I\nthink, Greek art remains in a remarkable degree close to nature. The\nartist's eye is always on the object, and, though he represents it in\nhis own style, that style is always normal and temperate, free from\naffectation, free from exaggeration or morbidity and, in the earlier\nperiods, free from conventionality. It is art without doubt; but it is\nnatural and normal art, such as grew spontaneously when mankind first\ntried in freedom to express beauty. For example, the language of Greek\npoetry is markedly different from that of prose, and there are even\nclear differences of language between different styles of poetry. And\nfurther, the poetry is very seldom about the present. It is about the\npast, and that an ideal past. What we have to notice there is that this\nkind of rule, which has been usual in all great ages of poetry, is\napparently not an artificial or arbitrary thing but a tendency that grew\nup naturally with the first great expressions of poetical feeling.\n\nFurthermore, this closeness to nature, this absence of a unifying or\nhide-bound system of thought, acting together with other causes, has led\nto the extraordinary variety and many-sidedness which is one of the most\npuzzling charms of Ancient Greece as contrasted, say, with Israel or\nAssyria or early Rome. Geographically it is a small country with a\nhighly indented coast-line and an interior cut into a great number of\nalmost isolated valleys. Politically it was a confused unity made up of\nnumerous independent states, one walled city of a few thousand\ninhabitants being quite enough to form a state. And the citizens of\nthese states were, each of them, rather excessively capable of forming\nopinions of their own and fighting for them. Hence came in practice much\nisolation and faction and general weakness, to the detriment of the\nGreeks themselves; but the same cause led in thought and literature to\nimmense variety and vitality, to the great gain of us who study the\nGreeks afterwards. There is hardly any type of thought or style of\nwriting which cannot be paralleled in ancient Greece, only they will\nthere be seen, as it were, in their earlier and simpler forms. Traces of\nall the things that seem most un-Greek can be found somewhere in Greek\nliterature: voluptuousness, asceticism, the worship of knowledge, the\ncontempt for knowledge, atheism, pietism, the religion of serving the\nworld and the religion of turning away from the world: all these and\nalmost all other points of view one can think of are represented\nsomewhere in the records of that one small people. And there is hardly\nany single generalization in this chapter which the author himself could\nnot controvert by examples to the contrary. You feel in general a great\nabsence of all fetters: the human mind free, rather inexperienced,\nintensely interested in life and full of hope, trying in every direction\nfor that excellence which the Greeks called _aret\u00ea_, and guided by some\npeculiar instinct toward Temperance and Beauty.\n\nThe variety is there and must not be forgotten; yet amid the variety\nthere are certain general or central characteristics, mostly due to this\nsame quality of freshness and closeness to nature.\n\nIf you look at a Greek statue or bas-relief, or if you read an average\npiece of Aristotle, you will very likely at first feel bored. Why?\nBecause it is all so normal and truthful; so singularly free from\nexaggeration, paradox, violent emphasis; so destitute of those\nfascinating by-forms of insanity which appeal to some similar faint\nelement of insanity in ourselves. 'We are sick', we may exclaim, 'of the\nsight of these handsome, perfectly healthy men with grave faces and\nnormal bones and muscles! We are sick of being told that Virtue is a\nmean between two extremes and tends to make men happy! We shall not be\ninterested unless some one tells us that Virtue is the utter abnegation\nof self, or, it may be, the extreme and ruthless assertion of self; or\nagain, that Virtue is all an infamous mistake! And for statues, give us\na haggard man with starved body and cavernous eyes, cursing God--or give\nus something rolling in fat and colour....'\n\nWhat is at the back of this sort of feeling? which I admit often takes\nmore reasonable forms than these I have suggested. It is the same\npsychological cause that brings about the changes of fashion in art or\ndress: which loves 'stunts' and makes the fortunes of yellow newspapers.\nIt is boredom or _ennui_. We have had too much of A; we are sick of it,\nwe know how it is done and despise it; give us some B, or better still\nsome Z. And after a strong dose of Z we shall crave for the beginning\nof the alphabet again. But now think of a person who is not bored at\nall; who is, on the contrary, immensely interested in the world, keen to\nchoose good things and reject bad ones; full of the desire for knowledge\nand the excitement of discovery. The joy to him is to see things as they\nare and to judge them normally. He is not bored by the sight of normal,\nhealthy muscles in a healthy, well-shaped body; he is delighted. If you\ndistort the muscles for emotional effect, he would say with\ndisappointment: 'But that is ugly!' or 'But a man's muscles do _not_ go\nlike that!' He will have noted that tears are salt and rather warm; but\nif you say like a modern poet that your heroine's tears are 'more hot\nthan fire, more salt than the salt sea', he will probably think your\nstatement \u03b1\u03c0\u03b9\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd {apithanon} 'unpersuasive', and therefore \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\n{psychron} 'chilling'.\n\nIt is perhaps especially in the religious and moral sphere that we are\naccustomed to the habitual use of ecstatic language: expressions that\nare only true of exalted moments are used by us as the commonplaces of\nordinary life. 'It is a thousand times worse to see another suffer than\nto suffer oneself.' 'True love only desires the happiness of the beloved\nobject.' This kind of 'high falutin'' has become part of our regular\nmental habit, just as dead metaphors by the bushel are a part of our\ndaily language. Consequently we are a little chilled and disappointed by\na language in which people hardly ever use a metaphor except when they\nvividly realize it, and never utter heroic sentiments except when they\nare wrought up to the pitch of feeling them true. Does this mean that\nthe Greek always remains, so to speak, at a normal temperature, that he\nnever has intense or blinding emotions? Not in the least. It shows a\nlack of faith in the value of life to imagine such a conclusion. It\nimplies that you can only reach great emotion by pretence, or by\nhabitually exaggerating small emotions, whereas probably the exact\nreverse is the case. When the great thing comes, then the Greek will\nhave the great word and the great thought ready. It is the habitual\nexaggerator who will perhaps be bankrupt. And after all--the great\nthings are sure to come!\n\nThe power of seeing things straight and knowing what is beautiful or\nnoble, quite undisturbed by momentary boredoms or changes of taste, is a\nvery rare gift and never perhaps possessed in full by any one. But there\nis a profound rule of art, bidding a man in the midst of all his study\nof various styles or his pursuit of his own peculiar imaginations, from\ntime to time _se retremper dans la nature_--'to steep himself again in\nnature'. And in something the same way it seems as if the world ought\nfrom time to time to steep itself again in Hellenism: that is, it ought,\namid all the varying affectations and extravagances and changes of\nconvention in art and letters, to have some careful regard for those\nwhich arose when man first awoke to the meaning of truth and beauty and\nsaw the world freely as a new thing.\n\nIs this exaggeration? I think not. But no full defence of it can be\nattempted here. In this essay we have been concerned almost entirely\nwith the artistic interest of Greece. It would be equally possible to\ndwell on the historical interest. Then we should find that, for that\nbranch of mankind which is responsible for western civilization, the\nseeds of almost all that we count best in human progress were sown in\nGreece. The conception of beauty as a joy in itself and as a guide in\nlife was first and most vividly expressed in Greece, and the very laws\nby which things are beautiful or ugly were to a great extent discovered\nthere and laid down. The conception of Freedom and Justice, freedom in\nbody, in speech and in mind, justice between the strong and the weak,\nthe rich and the poor, penetrates the whole of Greek political thought,\nand was, amid obvious flaws, actually realized to a remarkable degree\nin the best Greek communities. The conception of Truth as an end to\npursue for its own sake, a thing to discover and puzzle out by\nexperiment and imagination and especially by Reason, a conception\nessentially allied with that of Freedom and opposed both to anarchy and\nto blind obedience, has perhaps never in the world been more clearly\ngrasped than by the early Greek writers on science and philosophy. One\nstands amazed sometimes at the perfect freedom of their thought. Another\nconception came rather later, when the small City States with exclusive\nrights of citizenship had been merged in a larger whole: the conception\nof the universal fellowship between man and man. Greece realized soon\nafter the Persian war that she had a mission to the world, that\nHellenism stood for the higher life of man as against barbarism, for\nAret\u00ea, or Excellence, as against the mere effortless average. First came\nthe crude patriotism which regarded every Greek as superior to every\nbarbarian; then came reflection, showing that not all Greeks were true\nbearers of the light, nor all barbarians its enemies; that Hellenism was\na thing of the spirit and not dependent on the race to which a man\nbelonged or the place where he was born: then came the new word and\nconception \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 {anthr\u00f4pot\u00eas}, _humanitas_, which to the Stoics\nmade the world as one brotherhood. No people known to history clearly\nformulated these ideals before the Greeks, and those who have spoken the\nwords afterwards seem for the most part to be merely echoing the\nthoughts of old Greek men.\n\nThese ideas, the pursuit of Truth, Freedom, Beauty, Excellence are not\neverything. They have been a leaven of unrest in the world; they have\nheld up a light which was not always comforting to the eyes to see.\nThere is another ideal which is generally stronger and may, for all we\nknow, in the end stamp them out as evil things. There is Submission\ninstead of Freedom, the deadening or brutalizing of the senses instead\nof Beauty, the acceptance of tradition instead of the pursuit of Truth,\nthe belief in hallucination or passion instead of Reason and Temperate\nThought, the obscuring of distinctions between good and bad and the\nacceptance of all human beings and all states of mind as equal in value.\nIf something of this kind should prove in the end to be right for man,\nthen Greece will have played the part of the great wrecker in human\nhistory. She will have held up false lights which have lured our ship to\ndangerous places. But at any rate, through calm and storm, she does hold\nher lights; she lit them first of the nations and held them during her\nshort reign the clearest; and whether we believe in an individual life\nfounded on Freedom, Reason, Beauty, Excellence and the pursuit of Truth,\nand an international life aiming at the fellowship between man and man,\nor whether we think these ideals the great snares of human politics,\nthere is good cause for some of us in each generation at the cost of\nsome time and trouble to study such important forces where they first\nappear consciously in the minds of our spiritual ancestors. In the\nthought and art of ancient Greece, more than any other, we shall find\nthese forces, and also to some extent their great opposites, fresh,\nclean and comparatively uncomplicated, with every vast issue wrought out\non a small material scale and every problem stated in its lowest terms.\n\nGILBERT MURRAY.\n\n\n\n\nRELIGION\n\n\nThose who write about the Greeks must beware of a heresy which is very\nrife just now--the theory of _racialism_. Political ethnology, which is\nno genuine science, excused the ambition of the Germans to themselves,\nand helped them to wage war; it has suggested to the Allies a method of\nwaging peace. The false and mischievous doctrine of superior and\ninferior races is used to justify oppression in Europe, and murder by\ntorture in America. It will not help us to understand the Greeks. The\nGreeks were a nation of splendid mongrels, made up of the same elements,\ndifferently mixed, as ourselves. Their famous beauty, which had almost\ndisappeared when Cicero visited Athens, was mainly the result of a\nhealthy outdoor life and physical training, combined with a very\nbecoming costume. They were probably not handsomer than Oxford rowing\ncrews or Eton boys. Their flowering time of genius was due to the same\ncauses which produced similar results in the Italian Renaissance. The\ncity-state is a forcing-house of brilliant achievement, though it\nquickly uses up its human material. We cannot even regard the Greeks as\na homogeneous mixed race. The Spartiates were almost pure Nordics; the\nAthenians almost pure Mediterraneans. The early colonists, from whom\nsprang so many of the greatest names in the Hellenic roll of honour, are\nnot likely to have kept their blood pure. Nor was there ever a Greek\nculture shared by all the Greeks. The Spartan system, that of a small\nfighting tribe encamped in a subject country, recalls that of Chaka's\nZulus; Arcadia was bucolic, Aetolia barbarous, Boeotia stolid, Macedonia\nhalf outside the pale. The consciousness of race among the Greeks\ncounted practically for about as much as the consciousness of being\nwhite men, or Christians, does in modern civilization.\n\nGreece for our purposes means not a race, but a culture, a language and\nliterature, and still more an attitude towards life, which for us begins\nwith Homer, and persists, with many changes but no breaks, till the\nclosing of the Athenian lecture-rooms by Justinian. The changes no doubt\nwere great, when politically Greece was living Greece no more, and when\nthe bearers of the tradition were no longer the lineal descendants of\nthose who established it. But the tradition, enshrined in literature, in\nmonuments, and in social customs, survived. The civilization of the\nRoman Empire was not Italian but Greek. After the sixth century,\nHellenism--the language, the literature, and the attitude towards\nlife--was practically lost to the West for nearly a thousand years. It\nwas recovered at the Renaissance, and from that time to this has been a\npotent element in western civilization. The Dark Ages, and the early\nMiddle Ages, are the period during which the West was cut off from\nHellenism. Yet even then the severance was not complete. For these were\nthe ages of the Catholic theocracy; and if we had to choose one man as\nthe founder of Catholicism as a theocratic system, we should have to\nname neither Augustine nor St. Paul, still less Jesus Christ, but Plato,\nwho in the _Laws_ sketches out with wonderful prescience the conditions\nfor such a polity, and the form which it would be compelled to take.\nEven in speculative thought we know that Augustine owed much to the\nPlatonists, the Schoolmen to Aristotle, the mystics to the pupil of\nProclus whom they called Dionysius. Only Greek science, and the\nscientific spirit, were almost completely lost, and a beginning _de\nnovo_ had to be made when the West shook off its fetters.\n\nHellenism then is not the mind of a particular ethnic type, nor of a\nparticular period. It was not destroyed, though it was emasculated, by\nthe loss of political freedom; it was neither killed nor died a natural\ndeath. Its philosophy was continuous from Thales to Proclus, and again\nfrom Ficino and Pico to Lotze and Bradley, after a long sleep which was\nnot death. Its religion passes into Christian theology and cultus\nwithout any real break. The early Church spoke in Greek and thought in\nGreek. In the days of Greek freedom to be a Greek had meant to be a\ncitizen of a Greek canton; after Alexander it meant to have Greek\nculture. None of the great Stoics were natives of Greece proper; Zeno\nhimself was a Semite. Of the later Greek writers, Marcus Aurelius was a\nRomanized Spaniard, Plotinus possibly a Copt, Porphyry and Lucian\nSyrians, Philo, St. Paul, and probably the Fourth Evangelist were Jews.\nThese men all belong to the history of Greek culture. And if these were\nGreeks how shall we deny the name to Raphael and Michael Angelo, to\nSpenser and Sidney, to Keats and Shelley? When Blake wrote--\n\n    The sun's light when he unfolds it,\n    Depends on the organ that beholds it,\n\nhe was summing up, not only the philosophy of the Lake Poets but the\nfundamental dogma of the maturest Greek thought. Would not Plato have\nrejoiced in Michael Angelo's confession of faith, which Wordsworth has\ntranslated for us?\n\n    Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course must hold;\n    Beyond the visible world she soars to seek\n    (For what delights the sense is false and weak)\n    Ideal Form, the universal mould.\n    The wise man, I affirm, can find no rest\n    In that which perishes; nor will he lend\n    His heart to aught that doth on time depend.\n\nHas the highest aspect of Greek religion ever been better expressed than\nby Wordsworth himself, to whom, as to Blake, it came by inspiration and\nnot from books?\n\n    While yet a child, and long before his time\n    Had he perceived the presence and the power\n    Of greatness; and deep feelings had impressed\n    So vividly great objects that _they lay_\n    _Upon his mind like substances_, whose presence\n    Perplexed the bodily sense.\n\nThe spirit of man does not live only on tradition; it can draw direct\nfrom the fountain-head. We are dealing with a permanent type of human\nculture, which is rightly named after the Greeks, since it attained its\nchief glory in the literature and art of the Hellenic cities, but which\ncannot be separated from western civilization as an alien importation.\nWithout what we call our debt to Greece we should have neither our\nreligion nor our philosophy nor our science nor our literature nor our\neducation nor our politics. We should be mere barbarians. We need not\nspeculate how much we might ultimately have discovered for ourselves.\nOur civilization is a tree which has its roots in Greece, or, to borrow\na more appropriate metaphor from Clement of Alexandria, it is a river\nwhich has received affluents from every side; but its head waters are\nGreek. The continuity of Greek thought and practice in religion and\nreligious philosophy is especially important, and it is necessary to\nemphasize it because the accident of our educational curriculum leaves\nin the minds of most students a broad chasm between the Stoics and the\nChristians, ignores the later Greek philosophy of religion altogether,\nand traces Christian dogma back to Palestine, with which it has very\nlittle connexion.\n\nOur sense of continuity is dulled in another way. There is a tendency to\nisolate certain aspects of Hellenic life and thought as characteristic,\nand to stamp others, which are equally found among the ancient Greeks,\nas untypical and exceptional. In the sphere of religion, with which we\nare concerned in this essay, we are bidden to regard Plato and Euripides\nas rebels against the national tradition, and not as normal products of\ntheir age and country. I do not feel at liberty to pick and choose in\nthis fashion. A national character may be best exemplified in its\nrebels, a religion in its heretics. If Nietzsche was right in calling\nPlato a Christian before Christ, I do not therefore regard him as an\nunhellenic Greek. Rather, I trace back to him, and so to Greece, the\nreligion and the political philosophy of the Christian Church, and the\nChristian type of mysticism. If Euripides anticipated to an\nextraordinary degree the devout agnosticism, the vague pantheism, the\nhumanitarian sentiment of the nineteenth (rather than of the twentieth)\ncentury, I do not consider that he was a freak in fifth-century Athens,\nbut that Greece showed us the way even in paths where we have not been\nused to look to her for guidance. I am equally reluctant to assume,\nwithout evidence, that the later Platonism, whether we call it religion\nor philosophy, is unhellenic. It is quite unnecessary to look for\nAsiatic influences in a school which clung close to the Attic tradition.\nIt is more to the purpose to show how a religious philosophy of mystical\nrevelation and introspection grew naturally out of the older\nnature-philosophies, just as in our own day metaphysics and science have\nboth been driven back upon the theory of knowledge and psychology. It\nshould not be necessary to remind Hellenists that 'Know thyself' passed\nfor the supreme word of wisdom in the classical period, or that\nHeracleitus revealed his method in the words 'I searched myself'.\n\nWe shall come presently to certain parts of our modern heritage which\nare not Greek either by origin or by affinity. These will not be found\nin Euripides or Plato any more than in Herodotus or Sophocles. But some\ndevelopments of religion which our Hellenists particularly dislike, and\nare therefore anxious to disclaim as alien to Greek thought and\npractice, such as asceticism, sacramental magic, religious persecution,\nand timid reliance on authority, are maladies of the Greek spirit, and\ncame into the Church from Hellenistic and not from Jewish sources. It\nwas Cleanthes who wished to treat Aristarchus as the Church treated\nGalileo, for anticipating Galileo's discovery. It was Plutarch, or\nrather his revered father, who said, 'You seem to me to be handling a\nvery great and dangerous subject, or rather to be raising questions\nwhich ought not to be raised at all, when you question the opinion we\nhold about the gods, and ask reasons and proofs for everything. The\nancient and ancestral faith is enough; and if on one point its fixed and\ntraditional character be disturbed, it will be undermined and no one\nwill trust it'. It is true that Celsus accused the Christians of saying,\n'Do not inquire; only believe.' But this was not the attitude of Clement\nand Origen, still less of that most courageous pioneer St. Paul; it was\nrather the attitude of the average devout pagan. At this time the\ndefence of popular superstition was no longer a matter of mere policy\nbut of heartfelt need. Marcus Aurelius was a great immolator of white\ncows. The Christians were disliked, not as superstitious, but as\nimpious. Alexander of Abunoteichos expelled 'Christians and Epicureans'\nby name from his _s\u00e9ances_. Lucian is the Voltaire of a credulous age.\nAs for sacerdotal magic, Ovid explicitly ascribed the _ex opere operato_\ndoctrine to the Greeks.\n\n    Graecia principium moris fuit; illa nocentes\n      impia lustratos ponere facta putat,\n    a nimium faciles, qui tristia crimina caedis\n      fluminea tolli posse putatis aqua.\n\nThe Christian Church was the last great creative achievement of the\nclassical culture. It is neither Asiatic nor mediaeval in its essential\ncharacter. It is not Asiatic; Christianity is the least Oriental of all\nthe great religions. The Semites either shook it off and reverted to a\nJudaism purged of its Hellenic elements, or enrolled themselves with\nfervour under the banner of Islam, which Westcott called 'a petrified\nJudaism'. Christian missions have had no success in any Asiatic\ncountry. Nor is there anything specifically mediaeval about Catholicism.\nIt preserved the idea of Roman imperialism, after the secular empire of\nthe West had disappeared, and even kept the tradition of the secular\nempire alive. It modelled all its machinery on the Roman Empire, and\nconsecrated the Roman claim to universal dominion, with the Roman law of\n_maiestas_ against all who disputed its authority. Even its favourite\npenalty of the 'avenging flames' is borrowed from the later Roman codes.\nIt maintained the official language of antiquity, and the imperial title\nof the autocrat who reigned on the Seven Hills. Nor were the early\nChristians so anxious as is often supposed to disclaim this continuity.\nAt first, it is true, their apologetic was directed to proving their\ncontinuity with Judaism; but Judaism ceased to count for much after the\ndestruction of the Holy City in A. D. 70, and the second-century\napologists appeal for toleration on the ground that the best Greek\nphilosophers taught very much the same as what Christians believe. 'We\nteach the same as the Greeks', says Justin Martyr, 'though we alone are\nhated for what we teach.' 'Some among us', says Tertullian, 'who are\nversed in ancient literature, have written books to prove that we have\nembraced no tenets for which we have not the support of common and\npublic literature.' 'The teachings of Plato', says Justin again, 'are\nnot alien to those of Christ; and the same is true of the Stoics.'\n'Heracleitus and Socrates lived in accordance with the divine Logos',\nand should be reckoned as Christians. Clement says that Plato wrote 'by\ninspiration of God'. Augustine, much later, finds that 'only a few words\nand phrases' need be changed to bring Platonism into complete accord\nwith Christianity. The ethics of contemporary paganism, as Harnack\nshows, with special reference to Porphyry, are almost identical with\nthose of the Christians of his day. They differ in many points from the\nstandards of 500 years earlier and from those of 1,500 years later, but\nthe divergences are neither racial nor credal. Catholic Christianity is\nhistorically continuous with the old civilization, which indeed\ncontinued to live in this region after its other traditions and customs\nhad been shattered. There are few other examples in history of so great\na difference between appearance and reality. Outwardly, the continuity\nwith Judaism seems to be unbroken, that with paganism to be broken. In\nreality, the opposite is the fact.\n\nThis most important truth has been obscured from many causes. The gap in\nhistory made by our educational tradition has been already mentioned.\nAnd our histories of the early Church are too often warped by an\nunfortunate bias. Christianity has been judged at its best, paganism at\nits worst. The rhetorical denunciations of writers like Seneca, Juvenal,\nand Tacitus are taken at their face value, and few have remembered the\nconvention which obliged a satirist to be scathing, or the political\nprejudice of the Stoics against the monarchy, or the non-representative\ncharacter of fashionable life in the capital. The modern Church\nhistorian, as Mr. Benn says, has gathered his experience in a college\nquadrangle or a cathedral close, and knows little enough about his own\ncountry, next to nothing about what morality was in the Middle Ages, and\nnothing at all about what it still is in many parts of Europe. In the\nmost recent books, however, there is a real desire to hold the scales\nfairly, and Christianity has nothing to fear from an impartial\njudgement.\n\nThere is also an assumption, which we find even in such learned writers\nas Harnack and Hatch, that the Hellenic element in Christianity is an\naccretion which transformed the new religion from its original purity\nand half-paganized Europe again. They would like to prove that\nunderneath Catholicism was a primitive Protestantism, which owed nothing\nto Greece. The truth is that the Church was half Greek from the first,\nthough, as I shall say presently, the original Gospel was not. St. Paul\nwas a Jew of the Dispersion, not of Palestine, and the Christianity to\nwhich he was converted was the Christianity of Stephen, not of James the\nLord's brother. His later epistles are steeped in the phraseology of the\nGreek mysteries. The Epistle to the Hebrews and the Fourth Gospel are\nunintelligible without some knowledge of Philo, whose theology is more\nGreek than Jewish. In the conflict about the nature of the future life,\nit was the Greek eschatology which prevailed over the Jewish. St. Paul's\nfamous declaration, 'We look not at the things which are seen, but at\nthe things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are\ntemporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal', is pure\nPlatonism and quite alien to Jewish thought. Judaic Christianity was a\nlocal affair, and had a very short life.\n\nFurther, too much is made of the conflict between the official cults of\npaganism and Christian public worship. It is forgotten how completely,\nin Hellenistic times, religion and philosophy were fused. Without\nunder-estimating the simple piety which, especially in country\ndistricts, still attached itself to the temples and their ritual, we may\nsay confidently that the vital religion of the empire was associated\nwith the mystery-religions and with the discipline of the 'philosophic\nlife'. It is in this region that the continuity of Catholicism with\nHellenism is mainly to be found. The philosophers at this time were\npreachers, confessors, chaplains, and missionaries. The clerical\nprofession, in nearly all its activities, is directly descended from the\nHellenistic philosophers.\n\nThis claim of continuity may seem paradoxical when we remember the\nsavage persecutions of the Christians by the imperial government. Of\nthese persecutions there were several causes. The empire, like all\nempires of the same type, rested partly on religious support. Augustus\nencouraged his court poets to advocate a revival of piety and sound\nmorals. A government cannot inquire into religious conviction, but it\ncan enforce conformity and outward respect for the forms of worship as\n'by law established'. The Christians and Epicureans were held guilty of\nthe same political offence--'atheism'. The State had no quarrel with the\nmystery-religions, which were a private matter, but open disrespect to\nthe national deities was flat disloyalty. The pagans could not\nunderstand why the Church would make no terms with the fusion of\nreligions (\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1 {theokrasia}) which seemed to them the natural\nresult of the fusion of nationalities. Apuleius makes Isis say, when she\nreveals herself to Lucius, 'cuius numen unicum multiformi specie, ritu\nvario, nomine multiiugo totus veneratur orbis'; and she then recounts\nher various names. This more than tolerant hospitality of the spirit\nseemed to the mixed population of the empire the logical recognition of\nthe actual political situation, and those who deliberately stood outside\nit were at least potentially enemies of society. This was the real\nquarrel between the Church and the empire. It is the old State religion\nwhich Augustine attacks, ridiculing the innumerable Roman godlings whose\nnames he perhaps found in Varro. It is true that Plato, Euripides, and\nXenophanes had attacked the official mythology with hardly less\nasperity; but they did not escape censure, and the Christian alienation\nfrom the Olympians was far more fundamental.\n\nThe pagan revival under the empire was rather like Neo-Catholicism in\nFrance. It was patriotic, nationalistic, and conservative, rather than\nstrictly religious. Celsus, in his lost book against the Christians,\nseems to have appealed to their patriotism, urging them to support their\ncountry and its government in dangerous times. As the Church grew in\nnumbers and power, and the old traditions crumbled away, largely from\nthe fall in the birth-rate among the upper and middle classes, the\nconservatives became more anxiously attached to their own culture, and\nsaw in Christianity a 'shapeless darkness' which threatened to\nextinguish 'all the beautiful things in the world'. We can partly\nsympathize with this alarm, though not with the foolish policy which it\ninspired. The early persecutions were like Russian 'pogroms', instigated\nor connived at by the government as a safety valve for popular\ndiscontent. For at this time the common people hated the Christians, and\nhalf believed the monstrous stories about them. The attacks were not\ncontinuous, and were half-hearted, very unlike the systematic\nextermination of Jews and Protestants in Spain. At Alexandria Hadrian\nfound a money-loving population worshipping Christ and Sarapis almost\nindifferently. A wrong impression is formed if we picture to ourselves\ntwo sections of society engaged in constant war. The first real war was\nthe last, under Diocletian; it was to decide whether paganism or\nChristianity was to be the state religion. However, there is no doubt\nthat the persecutions helped to seal the fate of the old culture.\n\nHarnack traces three stages in the Hellenization of Christianity. 'In\nthe earliest Christian writings, apart from Paul, Luke, and John', he\ncannot find any considerable traces of Greek influence. 'The real influx\nof Greek thought and life' began about 130. The exception is so\nimportant as to make this statement of little or no value. After 130, he\nsays, 'the philosophy of Greece went straight to the core of the new\nreligion'. A century or so later, 'Greek mysteries and Greek\ncivilization in the whole range of its development exercise their\ninfluence on the Church, but as yet not its mythology and polytheism;\nthese were still to come'. 'Another century had to elapse before\nHellenism as a whole and in every phase of its development was\nestablished in the Church.' The process which he describes began, in\nfact, as soon as Christian preachers used the Greek language, and was\nnever so complete as he says. The Logos-Christology, to which he justly\nattributes the greatest importance, is already present in St. Paul's\nepistles; the name only is wanting; and the sharp contradiction which\nhe finds between the Christian idea of a revelation made through a\nperson at a certain date, and the Greek idea of an apprehension of\ntimeless and changeless truth, always open to individuals after the\nappropriate discipline, was faced and in part overcome by the Greek\nFathers. Harnack also regards Gnosticism as an embodiment of the\ngenuinely Greek view of revelation, forgetting that orthodox Platonism\nwas as hostile to Gnosticism as the Church itself. In rejecting\nGnosticism, the Church in fact decided for genuine Hellenism against a\ncorrupted and barbarized development of it. On the other hand, there is\nno period at which we can speak of a complete conquest of Christianity\nby Greek ideas. There was a large part of the old tradition which\nperished with its defenders, who, obeying the melancholy law which\ndirects human survival, died out to make way for immigrants and for the\nformerly submerged classes, the people with few wants, who were\nindifferent to a culture which they had never been allowed to share.\n\nOne more cause of misunderstanding may be illustrated from the writings\nof Matthew Arnold. He divides the human race into Hebraizers and\nHellenizers, and classifies the modern English and Americans as\nHebraizers. The fundamental maxim of Hebrew ethics, according to him, is\n'Walk by the light you have'; of Greek ethics, 'Take heed that the light\nwhich is in thee is not darkness'. The Hebraizer is conscientious but\nunenlightened; the Hellenizer is clear-headed but unscrupulous.\nProfessor Santayana has lately noted the same difference between the\ntype of character developed by the Latin nations and by the\nAnglo-Saxons. The Mediterranean civilization, older and more\nsophisticated, is careful to get its values right; the northern man is\nbent on doing something big, no matter what, and follows Clough's\nadvice:\n\n    Go! say not in thine heart, And what then, were it accomplished,\n      Were the wild impulse allayed, what is the use and the good?\n\nBut Santayana does not make the mistake of regarding the Reformation as\na return to Palestinian Christianity. This was, indeed, the opinion of\nthe Reformers themselves; but all religious innovation seeks to base\nitself on some old tradition. Christianity at first sought for its\ncredentials in Judaism, though the Jews saw very quickly that it\n'destroyed the Law'. The belief of the Reformers was plausible; for they\nrejected just those parts of Catholicism which had nothing to do with\nPalestine, but were taken over from the old Hellenic or Hellenistic\nculture. But the residuum was less Jewish than Teutonic. On one side,\nindeed, the Reformation was a return to Hellenism from Romanism. Early\nChristian philosophy was mainly Platonic; early Christian ethics (as\nexemplified especially in writers like Ambrose) were mainly Stoical.\nThere had been a considerable fusion of Plato and the Stoa among the\nNeoplatonists, so that it was easy for the two to flourish together.\nAugustine banished Stoical ethics from the Church, and they were revived\nonly at the Reformation. Calvinism is simply baptized Stoicism; it is\nlogically pantheistic, since it acknowledges only one effective will in\nthe universe. The creed of nineteenth-century science is very similar.\nPuritanism was not at all like Judaism, in spite of its fondness for the\nOld Testament; it was very like Stoicism. The Reformation was a revolt\nagainst Latin theocracy and the hereditary paganism of the Mediterranean\npeoples; it was not really a return to pre-Hellenic Christianity. It\nsheltered the humanism of Erasmus and the late-flowering English\nRenaissance, and Christian Platonism has nowhere had a more flourishing\nrecord than in Protestant Britain.\n\nAt the present time a more drastic revolt is in progress among the\n_plebs urbana_, which does in truth threaten with destruction 'what we\nowe to Greece'. The industrial revolution has generated a new type of\nbarbarism, with no roots in the past. For the second time in the history\nof Western Europe, continuity is in danger of being lost. A generation\nis growing up, not uneducated, but educated in a system which has little\nconnexion with European culture in its historical development. The\nClassics are not taught; the Bible is not taught; history is not taught\nto any effect. What is even more serious, there are no social\ntraditions. The modern townsman is _d\u00e9racin\u00e9_: he has forgotten the\nhabits and sentiments of the village from which his forefathers came. An\nunnatural and unhealthy mode of life, cut off from the sweet and\nhumanizing influences of nature, has produced an unnatural and unhealthy\nmentality, to which we shall find no parallels in the past. Its chief\ncharacteristic is profound secularity or materialism. The typical town\nartisan has no religion and no superstitions; he has no ideals beyond\nthe visible and tangible world of the senses. This of course opens an\nimpassable gulf between him and Greek religion, and a still wider gulf\nbetween him and Christianity. The attempts which are occasionally made,\nespecially in this country, to dress up the Labour movement as a return\nto the Palestinian Gospel, are little short of grotesque. The contrast\nis well summed up by Belfort Bax, in a passage quoted by Professor\nGardner. 'According to Christianity, regeneration must come from within.\nThe ethics and religion of modern socialism on the contrary look for\nregeneration from without, from material conditions and a higher social\nlife.' Here the gauntlet is thrown down to Christ and Plato alike.\n\nQuite logically the new spirit is in revolt against what it calls\nintellectualism, which means the application of the dry light of reason\nto the problems of human life. It wishes to substitute for reason what\nsome of its philosophers call instinct, but which should rather be\ncalled sentiment and emotion. There is no reconciliation between this\nview of life and Hellenism. For science is the eldest and dearest child\nof the Greek spirit. One of the great battles of the future will be\nbetween science and its enemies. The misologists have numbers on their\nside; but 'Nature', whom all the Greeks honoured and trusted, will be\njustified in her children.\n\nThe new spirit is especially bitter against the Stoical ethics, which as\nwe have seen were taken over, with the Platonic metaphysics, by\nChristianity. Stoicism teaches men to venerate and obey natural law; to\naccept with proud equanimity the misfortunes of life; to be beneficent,\nbut to inhibit the emotion of pity; to be self-reliant and\nself-contained; to practise self-denial for the sake of self-conquest;\nand to regard this life as a stern school of moral discipline. All this\nis simply detestable to the new spirit, which is sentimental,\nundisciplined, and hedonistic. It remembers the hardness of Puritanism,\nand has no admiration for its virtues.\n\nIt is often said that the modern man has entirely lost the Greek love of\nbeauty. This is, I think, untrue, and unjust to our present\ncivilization, unlovely as it undoubtedly is in many ways. It is curious\nthat modern critics of the Greeks have not called attention to the\n_aesthetic_ obtuseness which showed itself in the defective reaction of\nthe ancients against cruelty. It was not that they excluded beautiful\nactions from the sphere of aesthetics; they never thought of separating\nthe beautiful from the good in this way. But they were not disgusted at\nthe torture of slaves, the exposure of new-born children, or the\nmassacre of the population of a revolted city. The same callousness\nappears in the Italian cities at the Renaissance; Ezzelino was a\ncontemporary of the great architects and painters. I cannot avoid the\nconclusion that it is connected in some obscure way with the artistic\ncreativeness of these two closely similar epochs. The extreme\nsensibility to physical suffering which characterizes modern\ncivilization arose together with industrialism, and is most marked in\nthe most highly industrialized countries. It has synchronized with the\ncomplete eclipse of spontaneous and unconscious artistic production,\nwhich we deplore in our time. Evelyn, in the seventeenth century, was\nstill able to visit a prison in Paris to gratify his curiosity by seeing\na prisoner tortured, and though he did not stay to the end of the\nexhibition he shows that his stomach was not easily turned. It is\ncertain that our repugnance to such sights is aesthetic rather than\nmoral, and probable that it is strongest in the lower social strata.\nSeveral years ago I went to the first night of a rather foolish play\nabout ancient Rome, in which an early Christian is brought in to be very\nmildly tortured on the stage. At the first crack of the whip my\nneighbours sprang from their seats, crying, 'Shame! Stop that!'; and the\nscene had to be removed in subsequent performances. The operatives in a\ncertain factory stopped the engines for an hour because they heard a cat\nmewing among the machinery. Having with difficulty rescued the animal\nfrom being crushed they strangled it. The explanation of this extreme\nsusceptibleness must be left to psychologists; but I am convinced that\nwe have here a case of transferred aesthetic sensibility. We can walk\nunmoved down the streets of Plaistow, but we cannot bear to see a horse\nbeaten. The Athenians set up no Albert Memorials, but they tortured\nslave-girls in their law-courts and sent their prisoners to work in the\nhorrible galleries of the Laureion silver-mines.\n\nThis emergence of a new spirit, which seems to be almost independent of\nall traditions, makes it difficult to estimate our present indebtedness\nto Greece in matters of religion. It would be difficult even if the\nindustrial revolution had not taken place. The northern Europeans have\nhardly yet attained to self-expression. Their religion is a mixture of\nGreek, Latin, and Hebrew elements which refuse to be harmonized, and\nwhich in this country sometimes clash with the ideal of a gentleman,\nthat lay religion of the English-speaking peoples, which has no longer\nany connexion with heraldry or property in land. The English gentleman\nis not a Greek any more than he is a Jew. His code makes Odysseus an\namusing rascal; Achilles a violent and sulky savage; and Aristotle's\n\u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u03c2 {megalopsychos} (as has been said) is rather like a nobleman\nin a novel by Disraeli, but not like any other sort of gentleman. The\nEnglishman is by nature religious; but Christianity in its developed\nform is a Mediterranean religion; in all external features it might have\nbeen very different if it had been first planted north of the Alps.\nThere is, therefore, a chronic confusion in Protestantism which makes\nits conflicts with the Latin Church like the battles of undisciplined\nbarbarians against well-drilled troops.\n\nNevertheless, though it is so difficult to separate out the various\nthreads which make up the tangled skein of our modern religion, it may\nbe worth while to make the attempt to distinguish, first, those parts of\ncurrent Christianity which are not Greek, in the wide sense which I have\nchosen for the word, and then those which, in the same sense, are Greek\nby origin or affinity.\n\nAmong those elements which are not Greek, the first place must be given\nto the original Gospel, of which I have said nothing yet. Our records of\nthe Galilean ministry, contained in the three synoptic Gospels, were not\ncompiled till long after the events which they describe, and must not be\nused uncritically. But in my opinion, at any rate, the substance of the\nteaching of Christ comes out very clearly in these books. No Hellenic\ninfluence can be traced in it; there is not even any sign of the\nHellenized Judaism which for us is represented by his contemporary\nPhilo. But neither is it possible to call the Gospel Jewish, except with\nmany qualifications. Christ came before his countrymen as a prophet; he\ndeliberately placed himself in the line of the prophetic tradition.\nLike other prophets of his nation, he did not altogether eschew the\nframework of apocalyptic which was at that time the natural mould for\nprophecy. But he preached neither the popular nationalism, nor the\npopular ecclesiasticism, nor the popular ethics. His countrymen rejected\nhim as soon as they understood him. The Gospel was, as St. Paul said, a\nnew creation. It is most significant that it at once introduced a new\nethical terminology. The Greek words which we translate love (or\ncharity), joy, peace, hope, humility, are no part of the stock-in-trade\nof Greek moralists before Christ. Men do not coin new words for old\nideas. Taken as a whole the Gospel is profoundly original; and a\nChristian can find strong evidence for his belief that in Christ a\nrevelation was made to humanity at large, in which the religion of the\nSpirit, in its purest and most universal form, was for the first time\npresented to mankind. This revelation has to a considerable extent\npassed into the common consciousness of the civilized world; but its\nimplications in matters of conduct, individual, social, and\ninternational, are still imperfectly understood and have never been\nacted upon, except feebly and sporadically. It is a reproach to us that\nthe teaching of Christ must be regarded as only one of many elements\nwhich make up what we call Christianity. The Quakers, as a body, seem to\nme to come nearest to what a genuinely Christian society would be.\n\nSecondly, the Greeks escaped the evils of priestly government. The\nOriental type of theocracy, with which they were familiar in the Egypt\nof the Pharaohs, was alien to their civilization. Their sacrifices were\nfor the most part of the genial type, a communion-meal with the god. But\neven in Greece we must remember the gloomy chthonian rites, and the\ndegradations of Orphism mentioned by Plato in the _Republic_. 'They\npersuade not only individuals but whole cities that expiations and\natonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill\na vacant hour, and are equally at the service of the living and of the\ndead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they redeem us from the\npains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows what awaits us.' This\nexploitation of sacramentalism was common enough in Greece; but the\ncharacteristic Caesaro-Papism of Byzantium and modern imperialism was\nwholly foreign to Hellenism. It was introduced by Constantine as part of\nthe Orientalizing of the empire begun by Diocletian. As Seeley says,\n'Constantine purchased an indefeasible title by a charter. He gave\ncertain liberties and received in return passive obedience. He gained a\nsanction for the Oriental theory of government; in return he accepted\nthe law of the Church. He became irresponsible to his subjects on\ncondition of becoming responsible to Christ.'\n\nThe Greeks never had a book-religion, in the sense in which Judaism\nbecame, and Islam always was, a book-religion. But they were in some\ndanger of treating Homer and Hesiod as inspired scriptures. To us it is\nplain that a long religious history lies behind Homer, and that the\ntreatment of the gods in Epic poetry proves that they had almost ceased\nto be the objects of religious feeling. Some of them are even comic\ncharacters, like the devil in Scottish folklore. To turn these poems\ninto sacred literature was to court the ridicule of the Christians. But\nHomer was never supposed to contain 'the faith once delivered to the\nsaints'; no religion of authority could be built upon him, and Greek\nspeculation remained far more unfettered than the thought of Christendom\nhas been until our own day.\n\nThose who have observed the actual state of Christianity in\nMediterranean countries cannot lay much stress on the difference between\nChristian monotheism and pagan polytheism. The early Church fought\nagainst the tendency to interpose objects of worship between God and\nman; but Mariolatry came in through a loophole, and the worship of the\nmasses in Roman Catholic countries is far more pagan than the\nservice-books. In the imagination of many simple Catholics, Jesus, Mary,\nand Joseph are the chief potentates in their Olympus.\n\nThe doctrine of the creation of the world in time, which was denied by\nmost pagan thinkers and affirmed by most Christian divines, belongs to\nphilosophy rather than to religion. The disbelief in the pre-existence\nof the soul, a doctrine which for Greek thought stands or falls with the\nbelief in survival after death, is more important, and may be partly\nattributable to Jewish influence. But pre-existence does not seem to\nhave been believed by the majority of Greeks, and in fact almost\ndisappears from Greek thought between Plato and the Neoplatonists. It is\npossible that the Pythagorean and Platonic doctrine may still have a\nfuture.\n\nThere are some who will insist that these differences are insignificant\nby the side of the fact that Christianity was the idealistic side of a\nrevolt of the proletariat against the whole social order of the time.\nThis notion, which made Christ 'le bon sans-culotte', has again become\npopular lately; some have even compared the early Christians with\nBolsheviks. It is a fair question to ask at what period this was even\napproximately true. Christ and his apostles belonged to the prosperous\npeasantry of Galilee, a well-educated and comfortable middle class. The\ndomestic slaves of wealthy Romans, who embraced the new faith in large\nnumbers, were legally defenceless, but by no means miserable or\ndegraded. After the second century the comparison of the Christians to\nmodern revolutionists becomes too absurd for discussion. There is a good\ndeal of rhetorical declamation about riches and poverty in the Christian\nFathers; but unfortunately the Church seems to have done very little to\nprotest against the crying economic injustices of the fourth and fifth\ncenturies. From first to last there was nothing of the 'Spartacus'\nmovement about the Catholic Church. As soon as the persecutions ceased,\nthe bishops took their place naturally among the nobility.\n\nWhen we turn to the obligations of modern religion to Greece, it is\ndifficult to know where to begin.\n\nThe conception of philosophy as an _ars vivendi_ is characteristically\nGreek. Nothing can be further from the truth than to call the Greeks\n'intellectualists' in the disparaging sense in which the word is now\noften used. The object of philosophy was to teach a man to live well,\nand with that object to think rightly about God, the world, and himself.\nThis close union between metaphysics, morals, and religion has remained\nas a permanent possession of the modern world. Every philosopher is now\nexpected to show the bearing of his system on morality and religion, and\nthe criticism is often justified that however bold the speculations of\nthe thinker, he is careful, when he comes to conduct, to be conventional\nenough. The Hellenistic combination of Platonic metaphysics with Stoic\nethics is still the dominant type of Christian religious philosophy. It\nis curious to observe how competing tendencies in these systems--the\npraise of isolated detachment and of active social sympathy--have\ncontinued to struggle against each other within the Christian Church.\n\nThe place of asceticism in religion is so important, and so much has\nbeen written rather unintelligently about the contrast between Hellenism\nand Christianity in this matter, that I propose to deal with it, briefly\nindeed, but with a little more detail than a strict attention to\nproportion would justify. It has often been assumed that a nation of\nathletes, who made heroes of Heracles and Theseus, Achilles and Hector,\ncould have had nothing but contempt for the ascetic ideal. But in truth\nasceticism has a continuous history within Hellenism. Even Homer knows\nof the priests of chilly Dodona, the Selli, whose bare feet are\nunwashed, and who sleep on the ground. This is probably not, as\nWilamowitz-Moellendorff thinks, a description of savage life, but of an\nascetic school of prophets. For the fastdays which introduced the\nThesmophoria were observed by the Athenian matrons in the same way; they\nwent unshod and sat on the bare earth; and we may compare the\nNudipedalia, ordered by the Romans in time of dearth and mentioned by\nPetronius and Tertullian. Prophets and prophetesses fasted at Miletus,\nColophon, and other places. National fasts were ordered in times of\ncalamity or danger, and Tarentum kept a yearly fast of thankfulness for\ndeliverance from a siege. The flagellation of boys at Sparta hardly\ncomes into account, being probably a substitute for human sacrifice; but\nthe continuance of the cruel rite till nearly the end of antiquity\ncauses surprise. The worship of Dionysus Zagreus in Thrace was\naccompanied by ascetic practices before Pythagoras. Vegetarianism, which\nhas always played an important part in the ascetic life, was obligatory\non all Pythagoreans; but in this school there was another motive besides\nthe desire to mortify the flesh. Those who believe in the transmigration\nof souls into the bodies of animals must regard flesh-eating as little\nbetter than cannibalism. The Pythagorean and the Orphic rules of life\nwere well known throughout antiquity, and were probably obeyed by large\nnumbers. The rule of continence was far less strict than in the Catholic\n'religious' life; but Empedocles, according to Hippolytus, advised\nabstinence from marriage and procreation, and the tendency to regard\ncelibacy as part of the 'philosophic life' increased steadily. The Cynic\nAntisthenes is quoted by Clement of Alexandria as having expressed a\nwish to 'shoot Aphrodite, who has ruined so many virtuous women'. But\nthe asceticism of the early Cynics and of some Stoics was based not on\nself-devotion and spirituality but on the desire for independence, and\noften took repulsive forms. Of some among them it may be said that they\ndid not object to sensual pleasure, they only objected to having to pay\nfor it. Desire for self-sufficiency is always part of asceticism, but\nin the Christian saints it has been a small part. The Greeks who\npractised it were from first to last too anxious to be invulnerable;\nthis was the main attraction of the philosophic life from the time of\nAntisthenes, and it remained the main attraction to the end. But\nCynicism and Stoicism (which tend to run together) became gentler, more\nhumane, and more spiritual under the Roman empire. Seneca, Epictetus,\nand Marcus Aurelius often seem to be half Christian. Direct influence of\nChristian ethics at this early period is perhaps unlikely; it is enough\nto suppose that the spirit of the age affected in a similar way all\ncreeds and denominations. Self-mortification tended to assume more and\nmore violent forms, till it culminated in the strange aberrations of\nEgyptian eremitism. It is impossible to regard these as either Greek or\nChristian; they indicate a pathological state of society, which can be\npartly but not entirely accounted for by the conditions of the time.\nAfter a few centuries a far more wholesome type of monachism supplanted\nthe hermits; the anchorites of the Middle Ages retained the solitary\nlife, but were very unlike the crazy savages of the Thebaid. In modern\ntimes, those who have been most under the Greek spirit have generally\nlived with austere simplicity, but without any of the violent\nself-discipline which is said to be still practised by some devout\nCatholics. The assiduous practice of self-mastery and the most sparing\nindulgence in the pleasures of sense are the 'philosophic life' which\nthe Greek spirit recommends as the highest. The best Greeks would blame\nthe life of an English clergyman, professor, or philosopher as too\nself-indulgent; we often forget how frugally and hardily the Greeks\nlived at all times. But here we have to consider the differences of\nclimate, and the apparent necessity of a rather generous diet for the\nNordic race.\n\nThe influence of the Greek mysteries upon Christianity is a keenly\ndebated question, in which passion and prejudice play too large a part.\nThe information necessary for forming a judgement has been much enlarged\nby recent discoveries in Egypt and elsewhere, and, as usually happens,\nthe importance of the new facts has been sometimes exaggerated.\nProtestant theology has on the whole minimized the influence of the\nmysteries, and has post-dated it, from an unwillingness to allow that\nthere was already a strong Catholic element in the Christianity of the\nfirst century. Orthodox Catholicism has ignored it from different but\nequally obvious motives. Modernist Catholicism has in my opinion\nantedated the irruption of crude sacramentalism into the Church, and has\ngreatly overstated its importance in the religion of the first-century\nChristians. This school practically denies anything more than a\nhalf-accidental continuity between the preaching of the historical\nChrist, whom they strangely suppose to have been a mere apocalyptist,\none of the many Messiahs or Mahdis who arose at this period in\nPalestine, and the Catholic Church, which according to them belonged to\nthe same type of religion as the worship of Isis and Mithra. Another\nbone of contention is the value of the mystery-religions of Greece. The\nvery able German scholars who have written on the subject, such as\nReitzenstein and still more Rohde, seem to me much too unsympathetic in\ntheir treatment of the mystery-cults. Lastly, some competent critics\nhave lately urged that this side of Christianity owed more to\nJudaism--Hellenized Judaism, of course--than has been hitherto supposed.\n\nPlato in the _Phaedo_ says that 'those who established our mysteries\ndeclare that all who come to Hades uninitiated will lie in the mud;\nwhile he who has been purified and initiated will dwell with the gods'.\nFor, as they say in the mysteries, 'Many are the thyrsus-bearers, but\nfew are the inspired'. This sacramentalism was not unchallenged, as we\nhave already seen from Plato himself. Diogenes is said to have asked\nwhether the robber Pataecion was better off in the other world than the\nhero Epaminondas, because the former had been initiated, and the latter\nhad not. But Orphism, though liable to degradation, purified and\nelevated the old Bacchic rites. As Miss Harrison says, the Bacchanals\nhoped to attain unity with God by intoxication, the Orphics by\nabstinence. The way to salvation was now through 'holiness' (\u1f41\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2\n{hosiot\u00eas}). To the initiated the assurance was given, 'Happy and\nblessed one! Thou shalt be a god instead of a mortal.' To be a god meant\nfor a Greek simply to be immortal; the Orphic saint was delivered from\nthe painful cycle of recurring births and deaths. And Orphic purity was\nmainly, though not entirely, the result of moral discipline. Cumont says\nthat the mystery-cults brought with them two new things--mysterious\nmeans of purification by which they proposed to cleanse away the\ndefilements of the soul, and the assurance that an immortality of bliss\nwould be the reward of piety. The truth, says Mr. H. A. Kennedy, was\npresented to them in the guise of divine revelations, esoteric doctrines\nto be carefully concealed from the gaze of the profane, doctrines which\nplaced in their hands a powerful apparatus for gaining deliverance from\nthe assaults of malicious demonic influences, and above all for\novercoming the relentless tyranny of fate. This demonology was believed\neverywhere under the Roman empire, the period of which Mr. Kennedy is\nthinking in this sentence, and it has unfortunately left more traces in\nSt. Paul's epistles than we like to allow. The formation of brotherhoods\nfor mystic worship was also an important step in the development of\nGreek religion. These brotherhoods were cosmopolitan, and seem to have\nflourished especially at great seaports. They were thoroughly popular,\ndrawing most of their support from the lower classes, and within them\nnational and social distinctions were ignored. Their ultimate aim cannot\nbe summed up better than in Mr. Kennedy's words--'to raise the soul\nabove the transiency of perishable matter through actual union with the\nDivine'. It has been usual to distinguish between the dignified and\nofficially recognized mysteries, like those of Eleusis, and the\nindependent voluntary associations, some of which became important. But\nthere was probably no essential difference between them. In neither case\nwas there much definite teaching; the aim, as Aristotle says, was to\nproduce a certain emotional state (\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd {ou\nmathein ti dein alla pathein}). A passion-play was enacted amid the most\nimpressive surroundings, and we need not doubt that the moral effect was\nbeneficial and sometimes profound. When the Egyptian mysteries of Isis\nand Osiris were fused with the Hellenic, a type of worship was evolved\nwhich was startlingly like Christianity. A famous Egyptian text contains\nthe promise: 'As truly as Osiris lives, shall he [the worshipper] live;\nas truly as Osiris is not dead, shall he not die.' The thanksgiving to\nIsis at the end of the _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius is very beautiful in\nitself, though it is an odd termination of a licentious novel. The\nHermetic literature also contains doctrine of a markedly Johannine type,\nas notably in a prayer to Isis: 'Glorify me, as I have glorified the\nname of thy son Horus.' I agree with those critics (Cumont, Zielinski,\nand others) who attach the 'higher' Hermetic teaching to genuinely\nHellenic sources. But it is not necessary to ascribe all the higher\nteaching to Greece and the lower to Egypt.\n\nMuch of St. Paul's theology belongs to the same circle of ideas as these\nmysteries. Especially important is the psychology which divides human\nnature into spirit, soul, and body, spirit being the divine element into\nwhich those who are saved are transformed by the 'knowledge of God'.\nThis knowledge is a supernatural gift, which (in the _Poimandres_)\nconfers 'deification'. St. Paul usually prefers 'Pneuma' as the name of\nthis highest part of human nature; in the Hermetic literature it is not\neasy to distinguish between Pneuma and Nous, which holds exactly the\nsame place in Neoplatonism. The notion of salvation as consisting in the\nknowledge of God is not infrequent in St. Paul; compare, for example, 1\nCor. xiii. 12 and a still more important passage, Phil. ii. 8-10. This\nknowledge was partly communicated by visions and revelations, to which\nSt. Paul attributed some importance; but on the whole he is consistent\nin treating knowledge as the crown and consummation of faith. The\npneumatic transformation of the personality is the centre of St. Paul's\neschatology. 'Though our outward man perish, our inward man is renewed\nday by day.' The 'spiritual body' is the vehicle of the transformed\npersonality; for 'flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God'.\nThe expression 'to be born again' is common in the mystery literature.\n\nIt would be easy to find many other parallels in St. Paul's epistles, in\nthe Johannine books which are the best commentary upon them, and in the\ntheology of the Greek Fathers, which prove the close connexion of early\nChristianity with the mystery-religions of the empire. Twenty years ago\nit might have been worth while to draw out these resemblances in greater\ndetail, even in so summary a survey as this. But at present the tendency\nis, if not to over-estimate the debt of the Christian religion to\nHellenistic thought and worship, at any rate to ignore the great\ndifference between the higher elements in the mystery-religions, which\nthe new faith could gladly and readily assimilate, and the lower type,\nthe theosophy, magic, and theurgy, which was not in the line of Hellenic\ndevelopment, and is not to be found in the New Testament. Wendland,\nalways a judicious critic, has said very truly that St. Paul stands to\nthe mystery-religions as Plato to Orphism; they are not the centre of\nhis religious life, but they gave him effective forms of expression for\nhis religious experience. Or, as Weinel says, 'St. Paul's doctrine of\nthe Spirit and of Christ is not an imitation of mystery-doctrine, but\ninmost personal experience metaphysically interpreted after the manner\nof his time.' Writers like Loisy, who say that for St. Paul Jesus was\n'a Saviour God, after the manner of Osiris, Attis, or Mithra', and who\nproceed to draw out obvious parallels between the sufferings, death, and\nresurrection of these mythological personages and the gospels of the\nChristian Church, surely forget that St. Paul was a Jew, and that there\nare some transformations of which the religious mind is incapable. He\nnever speaks of Christ as a 'Saviour God'. Even more perverse are the\narguments which are used to prove that the centre of St. Paul's religion\nwas a gross and materialistic sacramental magic. The apostle, whose\nantipathy to ritual in every shape is stamped upon all his writings, who\nthanks God that he baptized very few of the Corinthians, who declares\nthat 'Christ sent him not to baptize but to preach the Gospel', is\naccused of regarding baptism as 'an _opus operatum_ which secures a\nman's admission into the kingdom apart from the character of his future\nconduct'. And yet in the Epistle to the Romans, as Weinel says, 'baptism\nonly once enters his mind, and the Lord's Supper not even once'. Baptism\nfor him is no _opus operatum_, but a ceremony of social significance, a\nsymbol conditioning a deeper experience of divine grace, already\nembraced by faith. These same critics proceed to illustrate St. Paul's\ndoctrine of the Lord's Supper by references to the religion of the\nAztecs and other barbarians. But it is hardly worth while to argue with\nthose who suppose that a man with St. Paul's upbringing and culture\ncould have dallied with the notion of 'eating a god'. The 'table of the\nLord' is the table at which the Lord is the spiritual host, not the\ntable on which his flesh is placed. Does any one suppose that 'the table\nof demons' which is contrasted with the 'table of the Lord' is the table\nat which demons are eaten? Demons had no bodies, as we learn from the\n\u03bf\u03c5\u03ba \u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd {ouk eimi daimonion as\u00f4maton} of a\nwell-known passage in a New Testament manuscript.\n\nCrude sacramentalism certainly came in later. Its parentage may be\ntraced, if we will, to those mystery-mongers whom Plato mentions with\ndisapproval. If Hellenism is the name of a way of thinking, this form of\nreligion is not healthy Hellenism; that it was held by many Hellenes\ncannot be denied.\n\nThe biblical doctrine of the Fall of Man, which the Hebrews would never\nhave evolved for themselves, remained an otiose dogma in Jewish\nreligion. It was revivified in Christianity under Greek influence. Man,\nas Empedocles and others had taught, was 'an exile and vagabond from\nGod'; his body was his tomb; he is clothed in 'an alien garment of\nflesh'. He is in a fallen state and needs redemption. Hellenism had\nbecome a religion of redemption; the empire was quite ready to accept\nthis part of Christian doctrine. The sin of Adam became the first scene\nin the great drama of humanity, which led up to the Atonement. At the\nsame time the whole process was never mere history; its deepest meaning\nwas enacted in the life-story of each individual. Greek thought gave\nthis turn to dogmas which for a Jew would have been a flat historical\nrecital. In modern times the earlier scenes in the story, at any rate,\nare looked upon as little more than the dramatization of the normal\nexperience of a human soul. But Greek thought, while it remained true to\ntype, never took sin so tragically as Christianity has done. The\nstruggle against evil has become sterner than it ever was for the\nGreeks. It must, however, be remembered that the large majority of\nprofessing Christians do not trouble themselves much about their sins,\nand that the best of the Greeks were thoroughly in earnest in seeking to\namend their lives.\n\nRedemption was brought to earth by a Redeemer who was both God and Man.\nThis again was in accordance with Greek ideas. The Mediator between God\nand Man must be fully divine, since an intermediate Being would be in\ntouch with neither side. The victory of Athanasius was in no sense a\ndefeat for Hellenism. The only difficulty for a Greek thinker was that\nan Incarnate God ought to be impassible. This was a puzzle only for\nphilosophers; popular religion saw no difficulty in a _Christus\npatiens_. The doctrine of the Logos brought Christianity into direct\naffinity with both Platonism and Stoicism, and the Second Person of the\nTrinity was invested with the same attributes as the Nous of the\nNeoplatonists. But the attempts to equate the Trinity with the three\ndivine hypostases of Plotinus was no more successful than the later\nattempt of Hegel to set the Trinity in the framework of his philosophy.\n\nThe subject of eschatology is so vast that it is hopeless to deal with\nit, even in the most summary fashion, in one paragraph. It is usually\nsaid that the resurrection of the body is a Jewish doctrine, the\nimmortality of the soul a Greek doctrine. But the Jews were very slow to\nbring the idea of a future life into their living faith; to this day it\ndoes not seem to be of much importance in Judaism. Some form of\nMillenarianism--a reign of the saints on earth--would seem to be the\nnatural form for Jewish hopes to take. This belief, which was the\nearliest mould into which the treasure of the new revelation was poured,\nhas never quite disappeared from the Church, and in times of excitement\nand upheaval it tends to reassert itself. The maturest Greek philosophy\nregards eternity as the divine mode of existence, while mortals are\nborn, live, and die in time. Man is a microcosm, in touch with every\nrung of the ladder of existence; and he is potentially a 'participator'\nin the divine mode of existence, which he can make his own by living, so\nfar as may be, in detachment from the vain shadows and perishable goods\nof earth. That this conception of immortality has had a great influence\nupon Christian thought and practice needs no demonstration. It is and\nalways has been the religion of the mystic. But the Orphic tradition,\nwith its pictures of purgatory and of eternal bliss and torment, has on\nthe whole dominated the other two in popular Christian belief. It has\nbeen stripped of its accessories--the belief in reincarnation and the\ntransmigration of souls, doctrines which maintain a somewhat uneasy\nexistence within the scheme of the Neoplatonists. The picture of future\nretribution is even more terrifying without them. Both the philosophical\nand the popular beliefs about the other world are far more Greek than\nJewish; but the attempt to hold these very discrepant beliefs together\nhas reduced Christian eschatology to extreme confusion, and many\nChristians have given up the attempt to formulate any theories about\nwhat are called the four last things. On such a mysterious subject,\ndefiniteness is neither to be expected nor desired. The original Gospel\ndoes not encourage the natural curiosity of man to know his future fate;\nand the three types of eschatology which we have described have all\ntheir value as representing different aspects of religious faith and\nhope. We must after all confess the truth of St. Paul's words, that 'eye\nhath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of\nman to conceive, the things that God hath prepared for them that love\nhim'. The same apostle reminds us that 'now we see through a mirror, in\nriddles, and know only in part'; the face to face vision, and the\nknowledge which unites the knower and the known, may be ours when we\nhave finished our course. In these words, which recall Plato's famous\nmyth of the Cave, St. Paul is fundamentally at one with the Platonists;\nand it may well be that it is by this path that our contemporaries may\nrecover that belief in eternal life which is at present burning very\ndimly among us.\n\nIn conclusion, what has the religion of the Greeks to teach us that we\nare most in danger of forgetting? In a word, it is the faith that Truth\nis our friend, and that the knowledge of Truth is not beyond our reach.\nFaith in honest seeking (\u03b6\u03b7\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {z\u00eat\u00easis}) is at the heart of the Greek\nview of life. 'Those who would rightly judge of truth', says Aristotle,\n'must be arbitrators, not litigants'. 'Happy is he who has learnt the\nvalue of research' (\u1f31\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 {historia}), says Euripides in a fragment.\nCuriosity, as the Greeks knew and the Middle Ages knew not, is a\nvirtue, not a vice. Nature, for Plato, is God's vicegerent and revealer,\nthe Soul of the universe. Human nature is the same nature as the divine;\nno one has proclaimed this more strongly. Nature is for us; chaos and\n'necessity' are the enemy. The divorce between religion and humanism\nbegan, it must be admitted, under Plato's successors, who unhappily were\nindifferent to natural science, and did not even follow the best light\nthat was to be had in physical knowledge. In the Dark Ages, when the\nlink with Greece was broken, the separation became absolute. The\nluxuriant mythology of the early Greeks was not unscientific. In the\nabsence of knowledge gaps were filled up by the imagination, and the\n'method of trial and error'. The dramatic fancy which creates myths is\nthe raw material of both poetry and science. Of course religious myths\nmay come to be a bar to progress in science; they do so when, in a\nrationalizing age, the question comes to be one of fact or fiction. It\nis a mistake to suppose that the faith of a 'post-rational' age, to use\na phrase of Santayana, can be the same as that of an unscientific age,\neven when it uses the same formulas. The Greek spirit itself is now\ncalling us away from some of the vestments of Greek tradition. The\nchoice before us is between a 'post-rational' traditionalism,\nfundamentally sceptical, pragmatistic, and intellectually dishonest, and\na trust in reason which rests really on faith in the divine Logos, the\nself-revealing soul of the universe. It is the belief of the present\nwriter that the unflinching eye and the open mind will bring us again to\nthe feet of Christ, to whom Greece, with her long tradition of free and\nfearless inquiry, became a speedy and willing captive, bringing her\nmanifold treasures to Him, in the well-grounded confidence that He was\nnot come to destroy but to fulfil.\n\nW. R. INGE.\n\n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHY\n\n\nIf we consider the philosophical tendencies of the day, we shall\nprobably observe first of all that the artificial wall of partition\nbetween philosophy and science--and especially mathematical science--is\nbeginning to wear very thin. On the other hand, we cannot fail to notice\na reaction against what is called intellectualism. This reaction takes\nmany forms, the most characteristic perhaps of which is a renewed\ninterest in Mysticism. It leads also to a strong insistence on the\npractical aspect of philosophic thought, and to a view of its bearing on\nwhat had been regarded as primarily theoretical issues, which is known\nby the rather unfortunate name of Pragmatism. Now it is just on these\npoints that we have most to learn from the Greeks, and Greek philosophy\nis therefore of special importance for us at the present time. At its\nbest, it was never divorced from science, while it found a way of\nreconciling itself both with the interests of the practical life and\nwith mysticism without in any way abating the claims of the intellect.\nIt is solely from these points of view that it is proposed to regard\nGreek philosophy here. It would be futile to attempt a summary of the\nwhole subject in the space available, and such a summary would have no\nvalue. Many things will therefore be passed over in silence which are\nimportant in themselves and would have to be fully treated in a complete\naccount. All that can be done now is to indicate the points at which\nGreek philosophy seems to touch our actual problems. It will be seen\nthat here, as elsewhere, 'all history is contemporary history', and that\nthe present can only be understood in the light of the past.\n\nThe word 'philosophy' is Greek and so is the thing it denotes. Unless we\nare to use the term in so wide a sense as to empty it of all special\nmeaning, there is no evidence that philosophy has ever come into\nexistence anywhere except under Greek influences. In particular,\nmystical speculation based on religious experience is not itself\nphilosophy, though it has often influenced philosophy profoundly, and\nfor this reason the pantheism of the _Upanishads_ cannot be called\nphilosophical. It is true that there is an Indian philosophy, and indeed\nthe Hindus are the only ancient people besides the Greeks who ever had\none, but Indian science was demonstrably borrowed from Greece after the\nconquest of Alexander, and there is every reason to believe that those\nIndian systems which can be regarded as genuinely philosophical are a\ngood deal more recent still. On the other hand, the earliest\nauthenticated instance of a Greek thinker coming under Indian influence\nis that of Pyrrho (326 B. C.), and what he brought back from the East\nwas rather the ideal of quietism than any definite philosophical\ndoctrine. The barrier of language was sufficient to prevent any\nintercourse on important subjects, for neither the Greeks nor the\nIndians cared to learn any language but their own. Of course philosophy\nmay culminate in theology, and the best Greek philosophy certainly does\nso, but it begins with science and not with religion.\n\nBy philosophy the Greeks meant a serious endeavour to understand the\nworld and man, having for its chief aim the discovery of the right way\nof life and the conversion of people to it. It would not, however, be\ntrue to say that the word had always borne this special sense. At any\nrate the corresponding verb (\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd {philosophein}) had at first a\nfar wider range. For instance, Herodotus (i. 30) makes Croesus say that\nSolon had travelled far and wide 'as a philosopher' (\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd\n{philosophe\u00f4n}), and it is clear from the context that this refers to\nthat love of travel for the sake of the 'wonders' to be seen in strange\nlands which was so characteristic of the Ionian Greeks in the fifth\ncentury B. C. That is made quite plain by the phrase 'for the sake of\nsightseeing' (\u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f11\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd {the\u00f4ri\u00eas heineken}) with which the word\nis coupled. Again, when Thucydides (ii. 40) makes Pericles say of his\nfellow citizens 'we follow philosophy without loss of manliness'\n(\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 {philosophoumen aneu malakias}), it is\ncertainly not of philosophy in the special sense he is thinking. He is\nonly contrasting the culture of Athens with the somewhat effeminate\ncivilization of the Ionians in Asia Minor. Even in the next century,\nIsocrates tried to revert to this wider sense of the word, and he\nregularly uses it of the art of political journalism which he imparted\nto his pupils.\n\nTradition ascribes the first use of the term 'philosophy' in the more\nrestricted sense indicated above to Pythagoras of Samos, an Ionian who\nfounded a society for its cultivation in southern Italy in the latter\nhalf of the sixth century B. C. It is notoriously difficult to make any\npositive statements about Pythagoras, seeing that he wrote nothing; but\nit is safer on general grounds to ascribe the leading ideas of the\nsystem to the master rather than to his followers. Moreover, this\nparticular tradition is confirmed by the fact, for which there is\nsufficient evidence, that the name 'philosophers' originally designated\nthe Pythagoreans in a special way. For instance, we know that Zeno of\nElea (_c._ 450 B. C.) wrote a book 'Against the Philosophers', and in\nhis mouth that can only mean 'Against the Pythagoreans'. Now the\nPythagorean use of the term depends on a certain way of regarding man,\nwhich there is good reason for ascribing to Pythagoras himself. It has\nbecome more or less of a commonplace now, but we must try to seize it in\nits original freshness if we wish to understand the associations the\nword 'philosophy' came to have for the Greeks. To state it briefly, it\nis the view that man is something intermediate between God and 'the\nother animals' (\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1 \u03b6\u03c9\u03b1 {talla z\u00f4a}). As compared with God, he is\n'mere man', liable to error and death (both of which are spoken of as\nspecially _human_, \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 {anthr\u00f4pina}); as compared with 'the other\nanimals', he is kindly and capable of civilization. The Latin word\n_humanus_ took over this double meaning, which is somewhat arbitrarily\nmarked in English by the spellings _human_ and _humane_. Now it is clear\nthat, for a being subject to error and death, wisdom (\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1 {sophia}) in\nthe full sense is impossible; that is for God alone. On the other hand,\nman cannot be content, like 'the other animals' to remain in ignorance.\nIf he cannot be wise, he can at least be 'a lover of wisdom', and it\nfollows that his chief end will be 'assimilation to God so far as\npossible' (\u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd {homoi\u00f4sis t\u00f4 the\u00f4 kata to\ndynaton}), as Plato put it in the _Theaetetus_. The mathematical studies\nof the Pythagoreans soon brought them face to face with the idea of a\nconstant approximation which never reaches its goal. There is, then,\nsufficient ground for accepting the tradition which makes Pythagoras the\nauthor of this special sense of the word 'philosophy' and for connecting\nit with the division of living creatures into God, men and 'the other\nanimals'. If the later Pythagoreans went a step further and classified\nrational animals into gods, men and 'such as Pythagoras', that was due\nto the enthusiasm of discipleship, and is really a further indication of\nthe genuinely Pythagorean character of this whole range of ideas. We may\ntake it, then, that the word 'philosophy' had acquired its special sense\nin southern Italy before the beginning of the fifth century B. C.\n\nIt is even more certain that this sense was well known at Athens, at\nleast in certain circles, not long after the middle of the fifth\ncentury. To all appearance, this was the work of Socrates (470-399\nB.C.). Whatever view may be taken of the philosophy of Socrates or of\nits relation to that expounded in Plato's earlier dialogues (a point\nwhich need not be discussed here), it is at least not open to question\nthat he was personally intimate with the leading Pythagoreans who had\ntaken refuge at Thebes and at Phlius in the Peloponnesus when their\nsociety came to be regarded as a danger to the state at Croton and\nelsewhere in southern Italy. That happened about the middle of the fifth\ncentury, and Socrates must have made the acquaintance of these men not\nlong after. At that time it would be quite natural for them to visit\nAthens; but, after the beginning of the Peloponnesian War (431 B. C.),\nall intercourse with them must have ceased. They were resident in enemy\nstates, and Socrates was fighting for his country. With the exception of\nthe brief interval of the Peace of Nicias (421 B. C.), he can have seen\nnothing of them for years. Nevertheless it is clear that they did not\nforget him; for we must accept Plato's statement in the _Phaedo_ that\nmany of the most distinguished philosophers of the time came to Athens\nto be with Socrates when he was put to death, and that those of them who\ncould not come were eager to hear a full account of what happened. It is\nhighly significant that, even before this, two young disciples of the\nPythagorean Philolaus, Simmias and Cebes, had come from Thebes and\nattached themselves to Socrates. For that we have the evidence of\nXenophon as well as of Plato, and Xenophon's statement is of real value\nhere; for it was just during these few years that he himself associated\nwith Socrates, though he saw him for the last time a year or two before\nhis trial and death. Whatever other inferences may be drawn from these\nfacts, they are sufficient to prove that Socrates had become acquainted\nwith some of the leading philosophers of the Greek world before he was\nforty, and to make it highly probable that it was he who introduced the\nword 'philosophy' in its Pythagorean sense to the Athenians.\n\nSo much for the word; we have next to ask how there came to be such a\nthing as philosophy at all. It has been mentioned that Pythagoras was an\nIonian, and we should naturally expect to find that he brought at least\nthe beginnings of what he called philosophy from eastern Hellas. Now it\nhas been pointed out that Greek philosophy was based on science, and\nscience originated at Miletus on the mainland of Asia Minor nearly\nopposite the island of Samos, which was the original home of Pythagoras.\nThe early Milesians were, in fact, men of science rather than\nphilosophers in the strict sense. The two things were not differentiated\nyet, however, and the traditional account of the matter, according to\nwhich Greek philosophy begins with Thales (_c._ 585 B. C.), is after all\nquite justified. The rudimentary mathematical science of which, as\nexplained elsewhere in this volume, he was the originator in fact led\nhim and his successors to ask certain questions about the ultimate\nnature of reality, and these questions were the beginning of philosophy\non its theoretical side. It is true that the Milesians were unable to\ngive any but the crudest answers to these questions, and very likely\nthey did not realise their full importance. These early inquirers only\nwanted to know what the world was made of and how it worked, but the\ncomplete break with mythology and traditional views which they effected\ncleared the way for everything that followed. It was no small thing that\nthey were able to discard the old doctrine of what were afterwards known\nas the 'elements'--Fire, Air, Earth, and Water--and to regard all these\nas states of a single substance, which presented different appearances\naccording as it was more or less rarefied or condensed. Moreover,\nAnaximander at least (_c._ 546 B. C.), the successor of Thales, shook\nhimself free of the idea that the earth required support of some kind to\nkeep in its place. He held that it swung free in space and that it\nremained where it was because there was no reason for it to fall in one\ndirection rather than another. In general these early cosmologists saw\nthat weight was not an inherent quality of bodies and that it could not\nbe used to explain anything. On the contrary, weight was itself the\nthing to be explained. Anaximander also noted the importance of rotary\nor vortex motion in the cosmical scheme, and he inferred that there\nmight be an indefinite number of rotating systems in addition to that\nwith which we are immediately acquainted. He also made some very\nimportant observations of a biological character, and he announced that\nman must be descended from an animal of a different species. The young\nof most animals, he said, can find their food at once, while that of the\nhuman species requires a prolonged period of nursing. If, then, man had\nbeen originally such as he is now, he could never have survived. All\nthis, no doubt, is rudimentary science rather than philosophy, but it\nwas the beginning of philosophy in this sense, that it completely\ntransformed the traditional view of the world, and made the raising of\nmore ultimate problems inevitable.\n\nThis transformation was effected in complete independence of religion.\nWhat we may call secularism was, in fact, characteristic of all eastern\nIonian science to the end. We must not be misled by the fact that\nAnaximander called his innumerable worlds 'gods' and that his successor\nAnaximenes spoke of Air as a 'god'. These were never the gods of any\ncity and were never worshipped by any one, and they did not therefore\nanswer at all to what the ordinary Greek meant by a god. The use of the\nterm by the Milesians means rather that the place once occupied by the\ngods of religion was now being taken by the great fundamental phenomena\nof nature, and the later Greeks were quite right, from their own point\nof view, in calling that atheism. Aristophanes characterizes this way of\nspeaking very accurately indeed in the _Clouds_ when he makes\nStrepsiades sum up the teaching he has received in the words 'Vortex has\ndriven out Zeus and reigns in his stead', and when he makes Socrates\nswear by 'Chaos, Respiration and Air'. So too the Milesians spoke of the\nprimary substance as 'ageless and deathless', which is a Homeric phrase\nused to mark the difference between gods and men, but this only means\nthat the emotion formerly attached to the divine was now being\ntransferred to the natural.\n\nThe Milesians, then, had formed the conception of an eternal matter out\nof which all things are produced and into which all things return, and\nthe conception of Matter belongs to philosophy rather than to science.\nBut besides this they had laid the foundations of geometry, and that led\nin other hands to the formulation of the correlative conception of Limit\nor Form. It is needless to enumerate here the Milesian and Pythagorean\ncontributions to plane geometry; it will be sufficient to remind the\nreader that they covered most of the ground of _Euclid_, Books I, II,\nIV, and VI, and probably also of Book III. In addition, Pythagoras\nfounded Arithmetic, that is, the scientific theory of numbers\n(\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 {arithm\u00eatik\u00ea}), as opposed to the practical art of\ncalculation (\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 {logistik\u00ea}). We also know that he discovered the\nsphericity of the earth, and the numerical ratios of the intervals\nbetween the concordant notes of the octave. It is obvious that he was a\nscientific genius of the first order, and it is also clear that his\nmethods included those of observation and experiment. The discovery of\nthe earth's spherical shape was due to observation of eclipses, and that\nof the intervals of the octave can only have been based on experiments\nwith a stretched string, though the actual experiments attributed by\ntradition to Pythagoras are absurd. It was no doubt this last discovery\nthat led him to formulate his doctrine in the striking saying 'Things\nare numbers', thus definitely giving the priority to the element of form\nor limit instead of to the indeterminate matter of his predecessors.\n\nPythagoras further differed from his predecessors in one respect which\nproved of vital moment. So far was he from ignoring religion, that he\nfounded a society in southern Italy which was primarily a religious\ncommunity. It is quite possible that he was influenced by the growth of\nthe Orphic societies which had begun to spread everywhere in the course\nof the sixth century, but his religion differed from the Orphic in many\nways. In particular, Apollo and not Dionysus was the chief god of the\nPythagoreans, and all our evidence points to the conclusion that\nPythagoras brought his religion, as he had brought his science, from\neastern Hellas, though rather from the islands of the Aegean than from\nmainland Ionia. He was much influenced, we can still see, by certain\ntraditions of the temple of Delos, which had become the religious centre\nof the Ionic world. There had, of course, been plenty of religious\nspeculation among the Greeks before Pythagoras, and it was of a type not\nunlike that we find in India, though there are insuperable difficulties\nin the way of assuming any Aegean influence on India or any Indian\ninfluence on the Aegean at this date. It may be that the beginnings of\nsuch ideas go back to the time when the Greeks and the Hindus were\nliving together, though it is still more likely that both the Greeks and\nthe Indians were affected by a movement originating in the north, which\nbrought to both of them a new view of the soul. The Delian legend of the\nHyperboreans may be thought to point in this direction. However that may\nbe, the main purpose of the religious observances practised by the\nOrphics and Pythagoreans alike was to secure by means of 'purifications'\n(\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 {katharmoi}) the ransom (\u03bb\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {lysis}) of the soul, which was\nregarded as a fallen god, from the punishment of imprisonment in\nsuccessive bodies. There is no reason to suppose that Pythagoras\ndisplayed any particular originality in this part of his teaching. It\nall depends on the doctrine of transmigration or rebirth (\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b9\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\n{palingenesia}), which is often incorrectly designated by the late and\ninaccurate term 'metempsychosis'. There is no doubt that Pythagoras\ntaught this, and also the rule of abstinence from animal flesh which is\nits natural corollary, but such ideas had been well known in many parts\nof Greece before his time. The real difficulty is to see the connexion\nbetween all this and his scientific work. Here we are of course confined\nto inferences from what we are told by later writers; but, if the\ndoctrine which Plato makes Socrates expound in the early part of the\n_Phaedo_ is Pythagorean, as it is generally supposed to be, we may say\nthat what Pythagoras did was to teach that, while the ordinary methods\nof purification were well enough in their way, the best and truest\npurification for the soul was just scientific study. It is only in some\nsuch way as this that we can explain the religious note which is\ncharacteristic of all the best Greek science. It involves the doctrine\nthat the Theoretic Life is the highest way of life for man, a belief\nstill held by Plato and Aristotle, and to which we shall have to return.\nWe may note at once, however, that it is not an 'intellectualist' ideal.\nThere is no question of idle contemplation; it is a strenuous way of\nlife, the aim of which is the soul's salvation, and it gives rise to an\neager desire to convert other men. Just for that reason, the Pythagorean\nphilosopher will take part in practical life when the opportunity\noffers, and he will even rule the state if called upon to do so. The\nPythagorean society was a proselytizing body from the first, and it\ntried to bring in all it could reach, without distinction of\nnationality, social position, or sex (for women played a great part in\nit from the first). It was precisely its zeal for the reform of human\nlife, and its attempt to set up a Rule of the Saints in the cities of\nsouthern Italy that led to its unpopularity. If the Pythagoreans had\ncontented themselves with idle speculation, they would not have been\nmassacred or forced to take refuge in flight, a fate which overtook them\nbefore the middle of the fifth century.\n\nIt soon proved, however, that the Pythagorean doctrine in its entirety\nwas too high a one for its adherents, and a rift between Pythagorean\nreligion and Pythagorean science was inevitable. Those who were capable\nof appreciating the scientific side of the movement would tend more and\nmore to neglect the religious rule which it prescribed, and we find\naccordingly that before the end of the fifth century the leading\nPythagoreans, the men whose names we know, are first of all men of\nscience, and more and more inclined to drop what they doubtless regarded\nas the superstitious side of the doctrine. In the end they were absorbed\nin the new philosophical schools which arose at Athens. The mass of the\nfaithful, on the other hand, took no interest in arithmetic, geometry,\nmusic, and astronomy, and with them to follow Pythagoras meant to go\nbarefoot and to abstain from animal flesh and beans. These continued the\ntradition even after scientific Pythagoreanism had become extinct as\nsuch, and they were a favourite subject of ridicule with the comic poets\nof the fourth century B. C.\n\nIt is easy for us to see now that all this indicates a real weakness in\nPythagoreanism. Science and religion are not to be brought into union by\na simple process of juxtaposition. We do not know how far Pythagoras\nhimself was conscious of the ambiguity of his position; it would not be\nsurprising if he came to feel it towards the end of his life, and we\nknow for certain that he lived long enough to witness the beginnings of\nthe revolt against his society in Croton and elsewhere. It is for this\nreason that he removed to Metapontum where he died, and where Cicero was\nable to visit his tomb long afterwards. We shall see later what the weak\npoint in his system was, and we shall have to consider how the discord\nhe had left unresolved was ultimately overcome. For the present, it is\nmore important to note that he was the real founder both of science, and\nof philosophy as we understand them now. It is specially true of science\nthat it is the first steps which are the most difficult, and Pythagoras\nleft a sufficient achievement in mathematics behind him for others to\nelaborate. The Greeks took less than three centuries to complete the\nedifice, and that was chiefly due to Pythagoras, who had laid the\nfoundations truly and well.\n\nWe have now seen how the two great conceptions of Matter and Form were\nreached; the next problem Greek philosophy had to face was that of\nMotion. At first the fact of movement had simply been taken for granted.\nThe Ionian tendency was to see motion everywhere; it was rest that had\nto be explained, or rather the appearance of it. However, when the new\nconception of an eternal matter began to be taken seriously,\ndifficulties made themselves felt at once. If reality was regarded as\ncontinuous, it appeared that there was no room for anything else, not\neven for empty space, which could only be identified with the unreal,\nand it was easy to show that the unreal could not exist. But, if there\nis no empty space, it seems impossible that there should be any motion,\nand the world of which we suppose ourselves to be aware must be an\nillusion. Such, briefly stated, was the position taken up by another\nIonian of southern Italy, Parmenides of Elea (_c._ 475 B. C.), who had\nbegun as a Pythagorean, but had been led to apply the rigorous method of\nreasoning introduced into geometry with such success by the Pythagoreans\nto the old question of the nature of the world which had occupied the\nMilesians. The remarkable thing about the earliest geometers is, in\nfact, that they did not formulate the conception of Space, which seems\nto us at the present day fundamental. They were able to avoid it because\nthey possessed the conception of Matter, and regarded Air as the normal\nstate of the material substratum. The confusion of air with empty space\nis, of course, a natural one, though it may be considered surprising\nthat it should not have been detected by the founders of geometrical\nscience. Such failures to draw all the consequences from a new discovery\nare common enough, however, in the history of scientific thought.\n\nParmenides cleared up this ambiguity, not by affirming the existence of\nempty space, but by denying the possibility of such a thing, even before\nit had been asserted by any one. He saw that the Pythagoreans really\nimplied it, though they were quite unconscious of the fact. He is\ninteresting to us as the first philosopher who thought of expounding his\nsystem in verse. It was not a very happy thought, as the arguments in\nwhich he deals do not readily lend themselves to this mode of\nexpression, and we may be thankful that none of his successors except\nEmpedocles followed his example. It has the very great inconvenience of\nmaking it necessary to use different words for the same thing to suit\nthe exigencies of metre. And if there ever was an argument that demanded\nprecise statement, it was that of Parmenides. As it is, his poem has the\nfaults we should look for in a metrical version of Euclid. On the other\nhand, Parmenides is the first philosopher of whom we have sufficient\nremains to enable us to follow a continuous argument; for we have\nnothing of Pythagoras at all, and only detached fragments of the rest.\nWe can see that he was ready to follow the argument wherever it might\nlead. He took the conception of matter which had been elaborated by his\npredecessors and he showed that, if it is to be taken seriously, it must\nlead to the conclusion that reality is continuous, finite, and\nspherical, with nothing outside it and no empty space within it. For\nsuch a reality motion is impossible, and the world of the senses is\ntherefore an illusion. Of course that was not a result in which it was\npossible for men to acquiesce for long, and historically speaking, the\nEleatic doctrine must be regarded as a _reductio ad absurdum_ of earlier\nspeculation. There is no reason to believe, however, that Parmenides\nhimself meant it to be understood in this way. He believed firmly that\nhe had found the truth.\n\nSeveral attempts were made to escape the conclusions of Parmenides, and\nthey all start by abandoning the assumption of the homogeneity and\ncontinuity of matter which had been implicit in the earlier systems,\nthough it was first brought to the light of day by Parmenides. Here\nagain the influence of contemporary science on philosophic thought is\nclearly marked. Empedocles of Agrigentum (_c._ 460 B. C.), the only\ncitizen of a Dorian state who finds a place in the early history of\nscience and philosophy, was the founder of the Sicilian school of\nmedicine, and it was probably his pre-occupation with that science that\nled him to revive the old doctrine of Fire, Air, Earth, and Water, which\nthe Milesians had cast aside, but which lent itself readily to the\nphysiological theories of the day. He did not use the word afterwards\ntranslated 'elements' (\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1 {stoicheia}) for these. It means\nliterally 'letters of the alphabet', and appears to have been first\nemployed in this connexion by the Pythagoreans at a later date, when\nthey found it necessary to take account of the new theory. Empedocles\nspoke of the 'four roots' of things, and by this he meant to imply that\nthese four forms of matter were equally original and altogether\ndisparate. That furnished at least a partial answer to the arguments of\nParmenides, which depended on the assumption that matter was\nhomogeneous. He also found it necessary to assume two sources of motion\nor forces, as we might call them, though Empedocles thought of them as\nsubstances, one of which tended to separate the 'four roots' and the\nother to combine them. These he called Love and Strife, and he supposed\nthe life of the world to take the form of alternate cycles, in which one\nor the other prevailed in turn. In all this he was plainly influenced by\nhis physiological studies. He thinks of the world as an animal organism\nsubject to what are now called anabolism and catabolism. The details of\nthe theory make this quite clear. A similar doctrine was taught by\nAnaxagoras (_c._ 460 B. C.), who came from Clazomenae in Asia Minor to\nAthens after the Persian Wars, and was one of the teachers of Pericles.\nHis doctrine of 'seeds', in which the traditional 'opposites'--wet and\ndry, cold and hot--were combined in different proportions, is rather\nmore subtle than that of Empedocles, and it is possible to see in it a\ncurious anticipation of certain features in modern chemistry.\nAnaxagoras too felt it necessary to assume a force or source of motion,\nbut he thought that one would suffice to account for the rotation\n(\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c7\u03c9\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {perich\u00f4r\u00easis}) to which he attributed the formation of the\nworld. He called that force Mind (\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 {nous}), but his own\ndescription of it shows that he regarded it as corporeal, though he\nthought it was something more tenuous and unmixed than other bodies.\nThere is little doubt that he selected the term in order to mark the\nidentity of the source of motion in the world with that in the animal\norganism. That again is in accordance with the scientific interests of\nthe time. In his astronomical theories, however, Anaxagoras showed\nhimself a true eastern Ionian, and lagged far behind the Pythagoreans.\nFor him, as for the Ionians of the Aegean down to and including\nDemocritus, the earth was flat, and the eddy or vortex which gave rise\nto the world was still rotation in a plane. A more satisfying answer to\nParmenides was the doctrine of Atomism, which frankly accepted the\nexistence of space, and asserted that it was just as real as body. The\nfirst hint of such a solution was given by Melissus (_c._ 444 B. C.),\nwho was a Samian but a member of the Eleatic school. He said, 'If things\nare a many, then each of them must be such as I have shown the One to\nbe.' That was meant as a _reductio ad absurdum_; but, when Leucippus of\nMiletus (_c._ 440 B. C.), who had also studied in the school of Elea,\nventured to assert the existence of the Void, there was no longer any\nreason for shirking the conclusion which Melissus had stated only to\nshow its impossibility. The atoms are, in fact, just the continuous\nindivisible One of Parmenides multiplied _ad infinitum_ in an infinite\nempty space. On that side at least, the theory of body was now complete,\nand the question asked by Thales was answered, and it is of great\ninterest to observe that this was brought about by the renewal of\nintercourse between the Ionians of Italy and those of the Aegean, a\nrenewal which was made possible by the establishment of the Athenian\nEmpire. Nothing makes us feel the historical connexion more vividly than\nthe re-emergence of the names of Miletus and Samos after all these\nyears. There were, however, certain more fundamental problems which\nAtomism could not solve, and which were first attacked at Athens itself.\nSo far, it will be noted, Athens has played no part at all in our story,\nand in fact no more than two Athenians ever became philosophers of the\nfirst rank. It is true that they were called Socrates and Plato, so the\nexception is a considerable one. It was the foundation of the Athenian\nEmpire that made Athens the natural meeting-place of the most diverse\nphilosophical and scientific views. It was here that the east and west\nof Hellas came together, and that the two streams of tradition became\none, with the result that a new tradition was started which, though\noften interrupted for a time, continues to the present day.\n\nIf we wish to understand the development of Greek philosophy, it is of\nthe first importance that we should realize the intellectual ferment\nwhich existed at Athens in the great days of the Periclean age. It has\nbeen mentioned already that Anaxagoras of Clazomenae had settled there,\nand it was not long before his example was followed by others. In\nparticular, Zeno of Elea (_c._ 450 B. C.), the favourite disciple of\nParmenides, had a considerable following at Athens. He made it his\nbusiness to champion the doctrine of his master by showing that those\nwho refused to accept it were obliged to give their assent to views\nwhich were at least as repugnant to common sense, and in this way he\nincidentally did much for mathematics and philosophy by raising the\ndifficulties of infinite divisibility and continuity in an acute form.\nAll that is something quite apart from the influence of the 'sophists'\nat a rather later date, though they too came both from the east and from\nthe west, and though they had been influenced by the more strictly\nphilosophical schools of these regions. It was into this Athens that\nSocrates was born (470 B. C.) about ten years after the battle of\nSalamis, and he was naturally exposed to all these conflicting\ninfluences, of which Plato has given us a vivid description in the\n_Phaedo_, from his earliest youth. He cannot, in fact, be understood at\nall unless this historical background is kept constantly in view. There\ncan be no reasonable doubt that at a very early age he attached himself\nto Archelaus, an Athenian who had succeeded Anaxagoras, when that\nphilosopher had to leave Athens for Lampsacus. Ion of Chios, a\ncontemporary witness, said that Socrates had visited Asia Minor with\nArchelaus, and that appears to refer to the siege of Samos, when\nSocrates was under thirty. There is no reason whatever to doubt the\nstatement, which Plato makes more than once, that he had met Parmenides\nand Zeno at a still earlier date. At any rate, the influence of Zeno on\nthe dialectic of Socrates is unmistakable. We may also take it that he\nwas familiar with all sorts of Orphic and Pythagorean sectaries.\nAeschines of Sphettos wrote a dialogue entitled _Telauges_, in which he\nrepresented Socrates as rallying the extreme asceticism of the strict\nfollowers of Pythagoras. So far, however, as we can form a picture of\nhim for ourselves, he was not the sort of man to become the disciple of\nany one. He was a genuine Athenian in respect of what is called his\n'irony', which implies a certain humorous reserve which kept him from\nall extravagances, however interested he might be in the extravagances\nof others. Nevertheless, while still quite a young man, he had somehow\nacquired a reputation for 'wisdom', though he himself disclaimed\nanything of the sort. He had also, it appears, gathered round him a\ncircle of 'associates' (\u1f11\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 {hetairoi}). The only direct evidence we\nhave for these early days is the _Clouds_ of Aristophanes (423 B. C.),\nwhich is of course a comedy and must not be taken too literally. On the\nother hand, a comic poet who knew his business (and surely Aristophanes\ndid) could hardly present a well-known man to the Athenian public in a\nmanner which had no relation to fact at all. It is fortunate that there\nis a passage in Xenophon's _Memorabilia_ (i. 6) which seems to supply us\nwith the very background we need to make the _Clouds_ intelligible. It\nrepresents Socrates in an entirely different light from that in which he\nappears in the rest of the work, and it can hardly be Xenophon's own\ninvention. It seems to refer to a time when Plato and Xenophon were\nbabies, if not to a time before they were born, and it is probable that\nit comes from some literary source which we can no longer trace. We are\ntold, then, that Antiphon the sophist was trying to detach his\ncompanions (\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 {synousiastai}) from Socrates, and a\nconversation followed in which he charged him with teaching his\nfollowers to be miserable rather than happy, and added that he was right\nnot to charge a fee for his teaching, since in fact it was of no value.\nIt will be seen that this implies a regular relation between Socrates\nand his followers which was sufficiently well known to arouse\nprofessional jealousy. Socrates does not attempt to deny the fact. He\nsays that what he and his companions do is to spend their time together\nin studying the wisdom of the men of old which they have left behind\nthem in books, and that, if they come upon anything which they think is\ngood, they extract it for their own use, and count it great gain if, in\ndoing this, they become friends to one another. It is obvious that this\nsuggests something quite different from the current view of Socrates as\na talker at street corners, something much more like a regular school,\nand that, so far as it goes, it explains the burlesque of Aristophanes.\n\nThe Socrates of whom we know most is, however, quite differently\nengaged. He has devoted his life to a mission to his fellow men, and\nespecially to his fellow citizens. If we may so far trust Plato's\n_Apology_, the occasion of that was the answer received from the Delphic\noracle by Chaerephon, whom we know from Aristophanes as one of the\nleading disciples of Socrates in the earlier part of his life.\nChaerephon asked the god of Delphi whether there was any one wiser than\nSocrates, and this of course implies that Socrates had a reputation for\n'wisdom' before his mission began. The oracle declared that there was no\none wiser, and Plato makes Socrates say in the _Apology_ that this was\nthe real beginning of that mission. He set out at first to prove that\nthe oracle was wrong, and for that purpose he tried to discover some one\nwiser than himself, a search in which he was disappointed, since he\ncould only find people who thought they were wise, and no one who really\nwas so. He therefore concluded that what the oracle really meant was\nthat Socrates was wiser than other people in one respect only. Neither\nhe nor any one else was really 'wise', but Socrates was wiser than the\nrest because he knew he was not wise and they thought they were. It\nought to be clear that this is mostly 'irony', and it is not to be\nsupposed that Socrates attached undue importance to the oracle, which he\nspeaks of quite lightly, but he could hardly have told the story at all\nunless it was generally known that his mission did in fact date roughly\nfrom that period of his life. Historically it would probably be truer to\nsay that the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War, in which Socrates served\nwith great distinction as a hoplite, marked the decisive turning-point.\nIt was in the camp at Potidaea that he once stood in a trance for\ntwenty-four hours (431 B. C.), and that seems to point to some great\npsychological change, which may very well have been occasioned or\naccelerated by his experiences in the war. At any rate we now find him\nentirely devoted to the conversion of his fellow citizens, and we must\ntry to understand what the message he had for them was.\n\nIn the _Apology_ Socrates declares that his mission was divinely imposed\nupon him, so that he dare not neglect it, even if it should lead to his\ndeath, as in fact it did. The tone here is quite different from the\nhalf-humorous style in which he deals with the Delphic oracle, and even\nthe 'divine sign'. That only warned him not to do things, mostly quite\ntrivial things, which he was about to do, and never told him to do\nanything; this, on the contrary, was a positive command, laid upon him\nby God, and there can be no doubt that Plato means us to understand this\nto have been the innermost conviction of Socrates. It is hard to believe\nthat Plato could have misrepresented his master's attitude on such a\npoint. He was present at the trial, and the _Apology_ must have been\nwritten not very long afterwards, when the memory of it was still fresh\nin people's minds. Now Plato tells us quite clearly that what Socrates\ntried to get the Athenians to understand was the duty of 'caring for\ntheir souls' (\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf {psych\u00eas epimeleio}). That is confirmed\nfrom other sources, and indeed it is generally admitted. The phrase has,\nhowever, become so familiar that it does not at once strike us as\nanything very new or important. To an Athenian of the fifth century B.\nC., on the other hand, it must have seemed very strange indeed. The word\ntranslated 'soul' (\u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7 {psych\u00ea}) occurs often enough, no doubt, in the\nliterature of the period, but it is never used of anything for which we\ncould be called upon to 'care' in the sense evidently intended by\nSocrates. Its normal use is to denote the breath of life, the 'ghost' a\nman 'gives up' at the moment of death. It can therefore be rendered by\n'life' in all cases where there is a question of risking or losing life\nor of clinging to it when we ought to be prepared to sacrifice it, but\nit is not used for the seat of conscious life at all. It is sometimes\nemployed to signify the seat of the dream-consciousness or of what is\nnow called the subconscious or subliminal self, but never of the\nordinary waking consciousness which is the seat of knowledge and\nignorance, goodness and badness.[2] On the other hand, that use of the\nword is quite common in the fourth century, and it may be inferred that\nthis change was due to Socrates. More than once Aristophanes ridicules\nhim for holding some strange view of the 'soul', and these jests were\nmade at a time when Plato was only a child. We cannot, of course, expect\nto get any very definite idea from them as to the real teaching of\nSocrates on this subject, but it is not impossible to see what it was,\nif we take into account the views of the soul which had been held by the\nphilosophical schools of eastern and western Ionia.\n\n    [2] See my paper on 'The Socratic Doctrine of the Soul'.\n    _Proceedings of the British Academy_, 1915-16, pp. 235 sqq.\n\nThe Ionians of Asia Minor had certainly identified the soul with that in\nus which is conscious, and which is the seat of goodness and badness,\nwisdom and folly; but they did not regard it as what we call the self or\ntreat it as an individual. Anaximenes and his school held that the soul\nwas what they called Air, but that was just because they regarded Air as\nthe primary substance of which all things are made. The soul was\nsomething, in fact, that comes to us from outside (\u03b8\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd {thyrathen})\nby means of respiration. As Diogenes of Apollonia expresses it, it is 'a\nsmall portion of the god', that is, of the primary substance, enclosed\nin a human body for a time, and returning at death to the larger mass of\nthe same substance outside. The formula 'Earth to earth and air to air'\nwas accepted as an adequate description of what takes place at death.\nThe western Ionians, and especially the Pythagoreans, held a very\ndifferent view. For them, the soul was something divine. It was, in\nfact, a fallen god, imprisoned in the body as a punishment for antenatal\nsin, and it deserved our care in this sense, that it was our chief\nbusiness in life to purify it so as to secure its release from the\nnecessity of reincarnation in another body. But, during this present\nlife, they held that this divine element slumbers, except in prophetic\ndreams. As Pindar puts it, 'It sleeps when the limbs are active.'\nNeither of these views was familiar to the ordinary Athenian, but\nSocrates of course knew both well, and felt satisfied with neither. When\nhe spoke of the soul he did not mean any mysterious fallen god which\nwas the temporary tenant of the body, but the conscious self which it\nlies with us to try to make wise and good. On the other hand, his\ninsistence on our duty to 'care for' it is quite inconsistent with the\nview that it is merely something extrinsic, as all the eastern Ionians\ndown to Anaxagoras had taught. It is, on the contrary, our very self,\nthe thing in us which is of more importance to us than anything else\nwhatever. It was to this doctrine of the soul and our duty to it that\nSocrates felt he must convert mankind and especially his\nfellow-citizens. It was a strange and novel doctrine then; and, if it\nhas become a commonplace since, that only shows that he was successful,\nif not in persuading his fellowmen to act on this knowledge, at least in\nmaking them aware of it. It was in this way that Socrates healed the\nrift between science and religion which had proved fatal to the\nPythagorean society, and it may be suggested that the significance of\nhis teaching is not exhausted yet. As has been indicated above it is to\nbe found clearly stated in Plato's _Apology of Socrates_, and it\nfurnishes the only clue to a right understanding of the great series of\nPlatonic dialogues down to and including the _Republic_ in which\nSocrates is represented as the chief speaker. Whether Plato added much\nor little of his own to the doctrine of his master in these dialogues is\nan interesting historical problem, but it need not concern the ordinary\nreader, at least in the first instance. We know from the allusions of\nAristophanes that Socrates himself taught a new doctrine of the soul\nwhen Plato was a child, and no sympathetic reader can fail to see that\nthe passage of the _Apology_ to which we have referred is intended to be\na faithful account of that doctrine. All the rest is simply its\nlegitimate development, and it is not of very great importance for us to\ndetermine whether that development is due to Socrates or to Plato. The\ninspiration which has been derived from these writings by many\ngenerations will not be lessened by any decision we may come to on this\npoint, so long as we keep clearly in mind that the new doctrine of soul\nis their principal theme, and that this must be understood in the light\nof the doctrines which had prepared the way for it. What Socrates did\nwas really this. He deepened the meaning of the Eastern Ionian doctrine\nby informing it with some of the feeling and emotion which had\ncharacterized the Pythagorean teaching on the subject, while on the\nother hand he rationalized the Pythagorean theory by identifying the\nsoul with our conscious personality.\n\nNow if this is a correct account of what Socrates taught, he must be\nregarded as inaugurating an entirely new period in the history of\nphilosophy. That is implied in the common term 'Presocratics' generally\napplied to his predecessors, though the ordinary textbooks are by no\nmeans clear as to the grounds for assigning this pre-eminent position to\nSocrates. We can also see how natural it was for him to lay such\nemphasis on the conversion of souls as he certainly did. That purpose\ncontinued to dominate Greek philosophy to the very end. No doubt\nsuccessive schools varied in their conception of what conversion meant,\nbut that is the link which binds them all together. In fact, it gave\nrise to a new literary form, the 'hortatory discourse' (\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03c0\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2\n\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 {protreptikos logos}), which was more and more cultivated as time\nwent on, and was at last taken over by the fathers of the Christian\nchurch along with much else of a more fundamental character.\n\nIt has been noted already that Socrates had followers among all the\nleading philosophical schools of the time, and the possibility is not to\nbe excluded that we may still learn more of him from the discovery of\nnew sources. For the present, the recovery of some new and fairly\nextensive fragments of the _Alcibiades_ of Aeschines of Sphettos is the\nchief addition to our sources of information. We know that Aeschines was\na disciple of Socrates, and the tradition of antiquity was that his\ndialogues gave the most faithful picture of the man as he really was. If\nso, that was probably because Aeschines had no philosophy of his own.\nFor us the chief importance of the new fragments is that, if we read\nthem along with those already known (and it is unfortunate that the old\nand the new have not yet been printed together), they strongly confirm\nthe impression we get from Plato of the manner of Socrates and his\nmethod of argument, and that helps to reassure us as to the essentially\nhistorical character of the Platonic Socrates. The fragments of\nAeschines also corroborate Plato by showing that the conversion of\nAlcibiades (whose life he had saved when a young man) was one of the\nthings that lay nearest his heart.\n\nBut the real successor of Socrates was, of course, Plato himself\n(427-347 B. C.). It is not possible to give even an outline of Plato's\nphilosophy here. Indeed the time has hardly come for that yet, though\nmuch admirable work is now being done, especially by a French professor,\nM. Robin, which promises more certain conclusions than have yet been\npossible. All that can be attempted here is to indicate the attitude of\nPlato to some of the problems we have been discussing. His very great\ncontributions to the theory of knowledge will be passed over, as they\nare beginning to be well understood, and the _Theaetetus_ in particular,\nwith its sequel the _Sophist_, is more and more coming to occupy its\nrightful place as the best introduction to philosophy in general. It is\nnecessary, however, just to notice in passing a fundamental question of\nmethod which the Platonic dialogues themselves suggest. It is this.\nWhile Socrates is present in every one of them except the _Laws_, he\ntakes practically no part in some of them, and the dialogues in which\nthis is the case are known on other grounds to belong to the later years\nof Plato's life. There must be some reason for this, and it is obviously\nprudent to treat these later dialogues in the first instance as our\nprimary evidence for Plato's own views. Indeed, it is only after his\nphilosophy has been reconstructed from these sources and from the\nsometimes obscure references to it in Aristotle, that it will be safe\nto attempt an answer to the question of how much there may be in the\ndialogues of his early life which is properly to be assigned to Plato\nhimself rather than to Socrates. That is a historical question of great\ninterest; but, as has been said, the solution of it, if that should ever\nprove possible, would not greatly affect the impression that Athenian\nphilosophy leaves upon us as a whole.\n\nNow, if we consider Plato's later, and presumably therefore most\nindependent writings, we find, just as we should expect from a disciple\nof Socrates, that the doctrine of soul holds the first place, but that\nit has certain features of its own which there is no sufficient ground\nfor attributing to Socrates. We are too apt to think of Plato as mainly\noccupied with what is called the 'theory of Ideas', a theory which is\ndiscussed once or twice in his earlier dialogues, and which is there\nascribed to Socrates, but which plays no part at all in his mature\nworks. There the chief place is undoubtedly taken by the doctrine of the\nsoul, and we can see that it is of the first importance for Plato. Soul\nis regarded as the source of all motion in the world, because it is the\nonly thing in the world that moves without being itself moved by\nanything else. It is this and this alone that enables Plato to account\nfor the existence of the world and of mankind, and to avoid the theory\nof 'two worlds' into which, as he points out in the _Sophist_, 'the\nfriends of the Ideas', whoever they may have been, were only too apt to\nfall. In Plato this view of the soul culminates in theology of a kind\nwhich he nowhere attributes to Socrates. He represents him, indeed, as a\nman of a deeply religious nature, but we do not gather that he had felt\nthe need of a formal doctrine of God. Plato, on the other hand, has left\nus the first systematic defence of Theism we know of, and it is based\nentirely on his doctrine of soul as the self-moved mover. But the\nhighest soul, or God, is not only the ultimate source of motion, but\nalso supremely good. Now, since there are many things in the world which\nare not good, and since it would be blasphemy to attribute these to\nGod, there must be other souls in the world which are relatively at\nleast independent. God is not, directly at least, the cause of all\nthings, but it is not easy to discover the relation in which these other\nsouls are thought of as standing to God. In the _Timaeus_, the matter is\nput in this way. The soul of the world, and all other souls human and\ndivine, are the work of the Creator, who is identified with God, and\nthey are not inherently indestructible, since anything that has been\nmade can be unmade. They are, however, practically indestructible, since\nGod made all things because He was good and wished them also to be as\ngood as possible. His goodness, therefore, will not suffer Him to\ndestroy what He has once made. That of course is mythically expressed,\nand Plato is not committed to it as a statement of his own belief, since\nit is only the account which _Timaeus_ puts into the mouth of the\nCreator. We can see, however, what was the problem with which he was\noccupied, and it is not perhaps illegitimate to infer that he approached\nthe question which still baffles speculation from the point of view that\nGod's omnipotence, as we should call it, is limited by his goodness.\nThis is a much more important limitation than that imposed by the\nexistence of matter, to which Timaeus also refers. In that, he is simply\nfollowing the tradition of the Pythagorean society to which he belonged,\nas is shown by his identification of matter with space, or rather with\n'room'. So far as can be seen at present, we are not entitled to ascribe\nthis view to Plato without more ado, but that is a point on which the\nlast word has not yet been said.\n\nThe description of the creation given by Timaeus is of course to be\nregarded as mythical in its details, but it has features from which we\nmay learn a good deal as to the direction taken by Plato's thoughts\nabout the world. In particular, while the important part played by\ngeometry is quite intelligible in the mouth of a Pythagorean, he makes\nuse of certain theories which we know to belong to the most recent\nmathematics of the day, in particular the complete doctrine of the five\nregular solids, which was due to Theaetetus, who was one of the earliest\nmembers of the Academy, and whom Plato represents as having made the\nacquaintance of Socrates just before the master's death. Theaetetus died\nyoung, but we know enough of him to feel sure that he was one of the few\ngreat original mathematicians who have appeared in history. In the\n_Timaeus_ the theory of the regular solids is used to get rid once more\nof the doctrine of four ultimate 'elements'. These, Timaeus says, are so\nfar from being elements or letters of the alphabet, that they are not\neven syllables. The way in which the so-called elements are built up out\nof molecules corresponding in their configuration to the regular solids,\nand the explanations of their transmutation into one another based on\nthe geometrical construction of these figures, is apt to strike the\naverage reader as fantastic, but one of the most distinguished living\nmathematicians and physicists has stated that he is struck most of all\nby their resemblance to the scientific theories of the twentieth\ncentury. It will be well, therefore, to avoid hasty judgements on this\npoint. It is at any rate easy to understand how the study of mathematics\ncame to hold the preponderating place it did in the Platonic Academy.\n\nIn accordance with the plan of this paper, something must now be said of\nPlato's attitude to the practical life, a point on which it is very easy\nto make mistakes. No one has insisted more strongly than he has on the\nprimacy of the Theoretic Life. The philosopher is the man who is in love\nwith the spectacle of all time and all existence and that is what\ndelivers him from petty ambitions and low desires. He has made the\ntoilsome ascent out of the Cave in which the mass of men dwell, and in\nwhich they only behold the shadows of reality. But, even in this\nenthusiastic description of the philosophic life, an equal stress is\nlaid on the duty of philosopher to descend into the Cave in turn and to\nrescue as many of their former fellow-prisoners as may be, even against\ntheir will, by turning them to the light and dragging them up into the\nworld of truth and reality. It is quite easy to understand, in view of\nthis, that Plato devoted some of the best years of his life to practical\naffairs and that he relinquished the studies of the Academy for a time\nin order to direct the education of Dionysius II. The thing appeared\nwell worth doing; for Greek civilization in Sicily, and consequently, as\nwe can now see, the civilization of western Europe, was seriously\nthreatened by the Carthaginians. They had been held at bay by Dionysius\nI, but after his death everything depended on his successor. Now the\neducation of Dionysius II had been completely neglected, but he had good\nnatural abilities, and his uncle Dion, who was Plato's friend, was ready\nto answer for his good intentions. Plato could not turn a deaf ear to\nsuch a call. Unfortunately Dionysius was vain and obstinate, and he soon\nbecame impatient of the serious studies which Plato rightly regarded as\nnecessary to prepare him for his task. The result was a growing\nestrangement between Plato and his pupil, which made it impossible to\nhope for a successful issue to the plans of Dion. It is unnecessary to\ntell the whole story here, but it is right to say that there was nothing\nat all impracticable in what Plato undertook, and that he was certainly\njustified in holding that the education of Dionysius must be completed\nbefore it would be safe to entrust him with the championship of the\ncause of Hellenism in the west.\n\nHis failure to make anything of Dionysius did not lead Plato to abandon\nhis efforts to heal the wounds of Hellenism. One of the studies most\nardently pursued in the Academy was Jurisprudence, of which he is the\nreal founder. It was not uncommon for Greek states to apply to the\nAcademy for legislators to codify existing law or to frame a new code\nfor colonies which had just been founded. That is the real explanation\nof the remarkable work entitled the _Laws_, which must have occupied\nPlato for many years, and which was probably begun while he was still\ndirecting the studies of Dionysius. It appears to have been left\nunfinished; for, while some parts of it are highly elaborated, there are\nothers which make upon us the impression of being a first draft. Even\nso, it is a great work if we regard it from the proper point of view. It\nis, in the first place, a codification of Greek, and especially Athenian\nlaw, of course with those reforms and improvements which suggest\nthemselves when the subject is systematically treated, and it formed the\nbasis of Hellenistic, and through that of Roman law, to which the world\nowes so much. There is no more useful corrective of the popular notion\nof Plato as an unpractical visionary than the careful study of the\ndullest and most technical parts of the _Laws_ in the light of the\n_Institutes_.\n\nNo attempt has been made here to describe the system of Plato as a\nwhole, and indeed the time has not yet come when such an attempt can\nprofitably be made. We have no direct knowledge of his teaching in the\nAcademy; for we only possess the works which he wrote with a wider\npublic in view. In the case of Aristotle (384-322 B. C.), a similar\nreservation must be made, though for just the opposite reason. We have\nonly fragments of his published works and what we possess is mainly the\ngroundwork of his lectures in the Lyceum. It will be seen that there is\nstill very much to be done here too. From the nature of the case, notes\nfor lectures take a great deal for granted that would be more fully\nexplained when the lectures were delivered, and some of the most\nimportant points are hardly developed at all. Nevertheless there are\ncertain things which come out clearly enough, and it so happens that\nthey are points of great importance from which we can learn something\nwith regard to the philosophical problems of the present day.\n\nIn the first place, it is desirable to point out that Aristotle was not\nan Athenian, but an Ionian from the northern Aegean, and that he was\nstrongly influenced by eastern Ionian science, especially by the system\nof Democritus (which Plato does not appear to have known) and by the\nmedical theories of the time. That is why he is so unsympathetic to the\nwestern schools of philosophy, and especially to the Pythagoreans and\nthe Eleatics. Empedocles alone, who was a biologist like himself, and\nthe founder of a medical school, finds favour in his eyes. He is not,\ntherefore, at home in mathematical matters and his system of Physics can\nonly be regarded as retrograde when we compare it with that of the\nAcademy. He did indeed accept the doctrine of the earth's sphericity,\nbut with that exception his cosmological views must be called\nreactionary. Where he is really great is in biology, a field of research\nwhich was not entirely neglected by the Academy, but which had been\ntreated as secondary in comparison with mathematics and astronomy. The\ncontrast between Plato and Aristotle in this respect seems to repeat on\na higher plane that between Pythagoras and Empedocles, and this suggests\nsomething like a law of philosophical development which may perhaps\nthrow light on the present situation. It seems as if this alternation of\nthe mathematical and the biological interest was fundamental in the\ndevelopment of scientific thought and that the philosophy of different\nperiods takes its colour from it. The philosophy of the nineteenth\ncentury was dominated in the main by biological conceptions, while it\nseems as if that of the twentieth was to be chiefly mathematical in its\noutlook on the world. We must not, of course, make too much of such\nformulas, but it is instructive to study such alternations in the\nphilosophy of the Greeks, where everything is simpler and more easily\napprehended.\n\nOn the other hand, Aristotle had been a member of the Academy for twenty\nyears, and that could not fail to leave its mark upon him. This no doubt\nexplains the fact, which has often been noted, that there are two\nopposite and inconsistent strains in all Aristotle's thinking. On the\none hand, he is determined to avoid everything 'transcendental', and his\ndislike of Pythagorean and Platonist mathematics is mainly due to that.\nOn the other hand, despite his captious and sometimes unfair criticisms\nof Plato, he evidently admired him greatly and had been much influenced\nby him. It may be suggested that the tone of his criticisms is partly\ndue to his annoyance at finding that he could not shake off his\nPlatonism, do what he would. This is borne out by the fact that, when he\nhas come to the furthest point to which his own system will take him, he\nis apt to take refuge in metaphors of a mythical or 'transcendental'\ncharacter, for which we are not prepared in any way and of which no\nexplanation is vouchsafed us. That is particularly the case when he is\ndealing with the soul and the first mover. On the whole his account of\nthe soul is simply a development of eastern Ionian theories, and we feel\nthat we are far removed indeed from the Platonist conception of the\nsoul's priority to everything else. But, when he has told us that the\nhighest and most developed form of soul is Mind, we are suddenly\nsurprised by the statement that Mind in this sense is merely passive,\nwhile there is another form of it which is separable from matter, and\nthat alone is immortal and everlasting. This has given rise to endless\ncontroversy which does not concern us here, but it seems best to\ninterpret it as an involuntary outburst of the Platonism Aristotle could\nnot wholly renounce. Very similar is the passage where he tries to\nexplain how the first mover, though itself unmoved, communicates motion\nto the world. 'It moves it like a thing beloved,' he tells us, and\nleaves us to make what we can of that. And yet we cannot help feeling\nthat, in passages like this, we come far nearer to the beliefs Aristotle\nreally cared about than we do anywhere else. At heart he is a Platonist\nin spite of himself.\n\nAristotle's attitude to the practical life is also dependent on\nPlato's. In the Tenth Book of the _Ethics_ he puts the claims of the\nContemplative Life even higher than Plato ever did, so that the\npractical life appears to be only ancillary to it. He does not feel in\nthe same degree as Plato the call for the philosopher to descend once\nmore into the Cave for the sake of the prisoners there, and altogether\nhe seems far more indifferent to the practical interests of life.\nNevertheless he followed Plato's lead in giving much of his time to the\nstudy of Politics and that too with the distinctly practical aim of\ntraining legislators. He has often been criticized for his failure to\nsee that the days of the city-state were numbered, and for the way in\nwhich he ignores the rise of an imperial monarchy in the person of his\nown pupil Alexander the Great. That, however, is not quite fair.\nAristotle had a healthy dislike of princes and courts, and the\ncity-state still appealed to him as the normal form of political\norganization. He could not believe that it would ever be superseded, and\nhe wished to contribute to its better administration. He had, in fact, a\nmuch more conservative outlook than Plato, who was inclined to think\nwith Isocrates, that the revival of monarchy was the only thing that\ncould preserve Hellenism as things were then. We must remember that\nAristotle was not himself a citizen of any free state, and that he could\nhardly be expected to have the same political instincts as Plato, who\nbelonged by birth to the governing classes of Athens and had inherited\nthe liberal traditions of the Periclean Age. This comes out best of all\nperhaps, in the attitude of the two philosophers to the question of\nslavery. In the _Laws_, which deals with existing conditions, Plato of\ncourse recognizes the _de facto_ existence of slavery, though he is very\nsensible of its dangers and makes many legislative proposals with a view\nto their mitigation. In the _Republic_, on the other hand, where there\nis no need to trouble about existing conditions, he makes Socrates\npicture for us a community in which there are apparently no slaves at\nall. Aristotle is also anxious to mitigate the worst abuses of slavery,\nbut he justifies the institution as a permanent one by the consideration\nthat barbarians are 'slaves by nature' and that it is for their own\ninterest to be 'living tools'. This insistence upon the fundamental\ndistinction between Greeks and barbarians must have seemed an\nanachronism to many of Aristotle's contemporaries and it had been\nexpressly denounced by Plato as unscientific.\n\nThe immediate effect of Aristotle's rejection of Platonist mathematics\nwas one he certainly neither foresaw nor intended. It was to make a\nbreach between philosophy and science. Mathematical science, whether\nAristotle realized it or not, was still in the vigour of its first\nyouth, and mathematicians were stirred by the achievements of the last\ngeneration to attempt the solution of still higher problems. If the\nLyceum turned away from them, they were quite prepared to carry on the\nAcademic tradition by themselves, and they succeeded for a time beyond\nall expectation. The third century B. C. was, in fact, the Golden Age of\nGreek mathematics, and it has been suggested that this was due to the\nemancipation of mathematics from philosophy. If that were true, it would\nbe very important for us to know it; but it can, I think, be shown that\nit is not true. The great mathematicians of the third century were\ncertainly carrying on the tradition of their predecessors who had been\nphilosophers as well as mathematicians, and it is not to be wondered at\nthat they were able to do so for a time. But the really striking fact is\nsurely that Greek mathematics became sterile in a comparatively short\ntime, and that no further advance was made till the days of Descartes\nand Leibniz, with whom philosophy and mathematics once more went hand in\nhand.\n\nNor was the effect of this divorce on philosophy itself less\ndisastrous. Theophrastus continued Aristotle's work on Aristotle's\nlines, and founded the science of Botany as his predecessor had founded\nthat of Zoology, but the Peripatetic School practically died out with\nhim and had very little influence till the study of Aristotle was\nrevived long afterwards by the Neoplatonists.\n\nFor the present, the divorce of science and philosophy was complete. The\nStoics and the Epicureans had both, indeed, a scientific system, but\ntheir philosophy was in no sense based upon it. The attitude of Epicurus\nto science is particularly well marked. He took no interest in it\nwhatever as such, but he used it as an instrument to free men from the\nreligious fear to which he attributed human unhappiness. For that\npurpose, the science of the Academy, which had led up to a theology, was\nobviously unsuitable, and, like a true eastern Ionian as he was,\nEpicurus harked back to the atomic theory of Democritus, adding to it,\nhowever, certain things which really made nonsense of it, such, for\ninstance, as the theory of absolute weight and lightness, which\nAristotle had unfortunately taught. The Stoics too were corporealists,\nand found such science as they required in the system of Heraclitus,\nthough they also adopted for polemical purposes much of Aristotle's\nLogic, taking pains, however, to alter his terminology. Both these\nschools, in fact, while remaining faithful to the idea of philosophy as\nconversion, forgot that it had always been based on science in its best\ndays. It was this, no doubt, which chiefly commended Stoicism and\nEpicureanism to the Romans, who were never really interested in science.\nBoth Stoicism and Epicureanism made a practical appeal, though of a\ndifferent kind, and that served to gain credit for them at Rome.\n\nThe Academy which Plato had founded still continued to exist, though it\nwas diverted from its original purpose not more than a generation after\nPlato's death. Mathematics, we have seen, had made itself independent,\nand the most pressing necessity of the time was certainly the criticism\nof the new dogmatism which the Stoics had introduced. That was really\ncarrying on one side of Platonism and not the least important. It is\ntrue indeed that the Academy appears to us at this distance of time\nmainly as a school of scepticism, but we must remember that its\nscepticism was directed entirely to the sensible world, as to which the\nattitude of Plato himself was not fundamentally different. The real\nsceptics always refused to admit that the Academics were sceptics in the\nproper sense of the word, and it is possible that the tradition of\nPlatonism proper was never wholly broken. At any rate, by the first\ncentury B. C., we begin to notice that Stoicism tends to become more and\nmore Platonic. The study of Plato's _Timaeus_ came into favour again,\nand the commentary which Posidonius (_c._ 100 B. C.) wrote upon it had\ngreat influence on the development of philosophy down to the end of the\nMiddle Ages. It is this period of eclecticism which is reflected for us\nin the philosophical writings of Cicero. It had great importance for the\nhistory of civilization, but it is far removed from the spirit of\ngenuine Greek philosophy. That was dead for the present, and it did not\ncome to life again till the third century of our era, when Platonism was\nrevived at Rome by Plotinus.\n\nIt is only quite recently that historians of Greek philosophy have begun\nto do justice to 'Neoplatonism'. That is partly due to the contemporary\nphilosophical tendencies noted at the beginning of this paper, and\npartly to historical investigations into the philosophy of the Middle\nAges, which is more and more seen to be dependent mainly on Neoplatonism\ndown to and including the system of St. Thomas Aquinas. It was in fact\nthe most decisive fact in the history of Western European civilization\nthat Plotinus founded his school at Rome rather than at Athens or\nAlexandria; for that is how Western Europe became the real heir to the\nphilosophy of Greece. Every one knows, of course, that Plotinus was a\n'mystic', but the term is apt to suggest quite wrong ideas about him. He\nis often spoken of still as a man who introduced oriental ideas into\nGreek philosophy, and he is popularly supposed to have been an Egyptian.\nThat is most improbable; and, if it were true, it would only make it the\nmore remarkable that, though he certainly studied at Alexandria for\neleven years, he never even mentions the religion of Isis, which was so\nfashionable at Rome in his day, and which had fascinated so genuine a\nGreek as Plutarch some generations before. There is no doubt that what\nPlotinus believed himself to be teaching was genuine Platonism, and that\nhe had prepared himself for the task by a careful study of Aristotle and\neven of Stoicism, so far as that served his purpose. No doubt he was too\ngreat a man to make himself the mere mouthpiece of another's thought;\nbut, for all that, he was the legitimate successor of Plato, and it may\nbe added that M. Robin, who has taken upon himself the arduous task of\nextracting Plato's real philosophy from the writings of Aristotle, has\ncome to the conclusion that there is a great deal more 'Neoplatonism' in\nPlato than is sometimes supposed.\n\nPlotinus is a mystic, then, though not at all in the sense in which the\nterm is often misused. He sets before his disciples a 'way of life'\nwhich leads by stages to the highest life of all, but that is just what\nPythagoras and Plato had done, and it is only the continuation of a\ntradition which goes back among the Greeks to the sixth century B. C.,\nnearly a thousand years before the time of Plotinus. His aim, like that\nof his predecessors, is the conversion of souls to this way of life, and\nhe differs from such thinkers as the Stoics and the Epicureans in\nholding that the 'way of life' to which he calls them must be based once\nmore on a systematic doctrine of God, the World and Man. The result was\nthat the divorce which had existed for centuries between science and\nphilosophy was once more annulled. We cannot say, indeed, that Plotinus\nhimself made any special study of Mathematics, but there is no doubt at\nall that his followers did, and it is due to them, and especially to\nProclus, that we know as much of Greek Mathematics as we do. Proclus was\nindeed the systematizer of the doctrine of Plotinus, though he differs\nfrom him on certain points, and his influence on later philosophy cannot\nbe overestimated. It can be distinctly traced even in Descartes, whom it\nreached through a number of channels, the study of which has recently\nbeen undertaken by a French scholar, Professor Gilson, of the University\nof Strasbourg. When his researches are complete, the continuity of Greek\nand modern philosophy will be plainly seen, and the part played by\nPlatonism in the making of the modern European mind will be made\nmanifest. We shall then understand better than ever why Greek philosophy\nis a subject of perennial interest.\n\nThe history of Greek philosophy is, in fact, the history of our own\nspiritual past, and it is impossible to understand the present without\ntaking it into account. In particular, the Platonist tradition underlies\nthe whole of western civilization. It was at Rome, as has been pointed\nout, that Plotinus taught, and it was in certain Latin translations of\nthe writings of his school that St. Augustine found the basis for a\nChristian philosophy he was seeking. It was Augustine's great authority\nin the Latin Church that made Platonism its official philosophy for\ncenturies. It is a complete mistake to suppose that the thinking of the\nMiddle Ages was dominated by the authority of Aristotle. It was not till\nthe thirteenth century that Aristotle was known at all, and even then he\nwas studied in the light of Platonism, just as he had been by Plotinus\nand his followers. It was only at the very close of the Middle Ages that\nhe acquired the predominance which has made so strong an impression on\nthe centuries that followed. It was from the Platonist tradition, too,\nthat the science of the earlier Middle Ages came. A considerable portion\nof Plato's _Timaeus_ had been translated into Latin in the fourth\ncentury by Chalcidius with a very elaborate commentary based on ancient\nsources, while the _Consolation of Philosophy_, written in prison by the\nRoman Platonist Boethius in A. D. 525, was easily the most popular book\nof the Middle Ages. It was translated into English by Alfred the Great\nand by Chaucer, and into many other European languages. It was on these\nfoundations that the French Platonism of the twelfth century, and\nespecially that of the School of Chartres, was built up, and the\ninfluence of that school in England was very great indeed. The names of\nGrosseteste and Roger Bacon may just be mentioned in this connexion, and\nit would not be hard to show that the special character of the\ncontribution which English writers have been able to make to science and\nphilosophy is in large measure attributable to this influence.\n\nBut the interest of Greek philosophy is not only historical; it is full\nof instruction for the future too. Since the time of Locke, philosophy\nhas been apt to limit itself to discussions about the nature of\nknowledge, and to leave questions about the nature of the world to\nspecialists. The history of Greek philosophy shows the danger of this\nunnatural division of the province of thought, and the more we study it,\nthe more we shall feel the need of a more comprehensive view. The\n'philosophy of things human', as the Greeks called it, is only one\ndepartment among others, and the theory of knowledge is only one\ndepartment of that. If studied in isolation from the whole, it must\ninevitably become one-sided. From Greek philosophy we can also learn\nthat it is fatal to divorce speculation from the service of mankind. The\nnotion that philosophy could be so isolated would have been wholly\nunintelligible to any of the great Greek thinkers, and most of all\nperhaps to the Platonists who are often charged with this very heresy.\nAbove all, we can learn from Greek philosophy the paramount importance\nof what we call the personality and they called the soul. It was just\nbecause the Greeks realized this that the genuinely Hellenic idea of\nconversion played so great a part in their thinking and in their lives.\nThat, above all, is the lesson they have to teach, and that is why the\nwritings of their great philosophers have still the power to convert the\nsouls of all that will receive their teaching with humility.\n\nJ. BURNET.\n\n\n\n\nMATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY\n\n\nIt has been well said that, if we would study any subject properly, we\nmust study it as something that is alive and growing and consider it\nwith reference to its growth in the past. As most of the vital forces\nand movements in modern civilization had their origin in Greece, this\nmeans that, to study them properly, we must get back to Greece. So it is\nwith the literature of modern countries, or their philosophy, or their\nart; we cannot study them with the determination to get to the bottom\nand understand them without the way pointing eventually back to Greece.\n\nWhen we think of the debt which mankind owes to the Greeks, we are apt\nto think too exclusively of the masterpieces in literature and art which\nthey have left us. But the Greek genius was many-sided; the Greek, with\nhis insatiable love of knowledge, his determination to see things as\nthey are and to see them whole, his burning desire to be able to give a\nrational explanation of everything in heaven and earth, was just as\nirresistibly driven to natural science, mathematics, and exact reasoning\nin general, or logic.\n\nTo quote from a brilliant review of a well-known work: 'To be a Greek\nwas to seek to know, to know the primordial substance of matter, to know\nthe meaning of number, to know the world as a rational whole. In no\nspirit of paradox one may say that Euclid is the most typical Greek: he\nwould know to the bottom, and know as a rational system, the laws of the\nmeasurement of the earth. Plato, too, loved geometry and the wonders of\nnumbers; he was essentially Greek because he was essentially\nmathematical.... And if one thus finds the Greek genius in Euclid and\nthe _Posterior Analytics_, one will understand the motto written over\nthe Academy, \u03bc\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b3\u03b5\u03c9\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03c9 {m\u00eadeis age\u00f4metr\u00eatos eisit\u00f4}. To\nknow what the Greek genius meant you must (if one may speak \u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03b9\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\n{en ainigmati}) begin with geometry.'\n\nMathematics, indeed, plays an important part in Greek philosophy: there\nare, for example, many passages in Plato and Aristotle for the\ninterpretation of which some knowledge of the technique of Greek\nmathematics is the first essential. Hence it should be part of the\nequipment of every classical student that he should have read\nsubstantial portions of the works of the Greek mathematicians in the\noriginal, say, some of the early books of Euclid in full and the\ndefinitions (at least) of the other books, as well as selections from\nother writers. Von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff has included in his\n_Griechisches Lesebuch_ extracts from Euclid, Archimedes and Heron of\nAlexandria; and the example should be followed in this country.\n\nAcquaintance with the original works of the Greek mathematicians is no\nless necessary for any mathematician worthy of the name. Mathematics is\na Greek science. So far as pure geometry is concerned, the\nmathematician's technical equipment is almost wholly Greek. The Greeks\nlaid down the principles, fixed the terminology and invented the methods\n_ab initio_; moreover, they did this with such certainty that in the\ncenturies which have since elapsed there has been no need to\nreconstruct, still less to reject as unsound, any essential part of\ntheir doctrine.\n\nConsider first the terminology of mathematics. Almost all the standard\nterms are Greek or Latin translations from the Greek, and, although the\nmathematician may be taught their meaning without knowing Greek, he will\ncertainly grasp their significance better if he knows them as they arise\nand as part of the living language of the men who invented them. Take\nthe word _isosceles_; a schoolboy can be shown what an isosceles\ntriangle is, but, if he knows nothing of the derivation, he will wonder\nwhy such an apparently outlandish term should be necessary to express so\nsimple an idea. But if the mere appearance of the word shows him that it\nmeans a thing _with equal legs_, being compounded of \u03b9\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2 {isos}, equal,\nand \u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 {skelos}, a leg, he will understand its appropriateness and\nwill have no difficulty in remembering it. _Equilateral_, on the other\nhand, is borrowed from the Latin, but it is merely the Latin translation\nof the Greek \u03b9\u03c3\u03bf\u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 {isopleuros}, _equal-sided_. _Parallelogram_\nagain can be explained to a Greekless person, but it will be far better\nunderstood by one who sees in it the two words \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 {parall\u00ealos}\nand \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03bc\u03b7 {gramm\u00ea} and realizes that it is a short way of expressing\nthat the figure in question is contained by parallel lines; and we shall\nbest understand the word _parallel_ itself if we see in it the statement\nof the fact that the two straight lines so described go _alongside one\nanother_, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1' \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 {par' all\u00ealas}, all the way. Similarly a\nmathematician should know that a _rhombus_ is so called from its\nresemblance to a form of spinning-top (\u1fe5\u03bf\u03bc\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 {rhombos} from \u1fe5\u03b5\u03bc\u03b2\u03c9\n{rhemb\u00f4}, to spin) and that, just as a parallelogram is a figure formed\nby two pairs of parallel straight lines, so a _parallelepiped_ is a\nsolid figure bounded by three pairs of parallel planes (\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2\n{parall\u00ealos}, parallel, and \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 {epipedos}, plane); incidentally,\nin the latter case, he will be saved from writing 'parallel_o_piped', a\nmonstrosity which has disfigured not a few textbooks of geometry.\nAnother good example is the word _hypotenuse_; it comes from the verb\n\u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd {hypoteinein} (c. \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf {hypo} and acc. or simple acc.), to\n_stretch under_, or, in its Latin form, to _subtend_, which term is used\nquite generally for 'to be opposite to'; in our phraseology the word\n_hypotenuse_ is restricted to that side of a right-angled triangle which\nis opposite to the right angle, being short for the expression used in\nEucl. i. 47, \u1f21 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd \u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1 {h\u00ea t\u00ean orth\u00ean g\u00f4nian\nhypoteinousa pleura}, 'the side subtending the right angle', which\naccounts for the feminine participial form \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 {hypoteinousa},\n_hypotenuse_. If mathematicians had had more Greek, perhaps the\nmisspelt form 'hypot_h_enuse' would not have survived so long.\n\nTo take an example outside the Elements, how can a mathematician\nproperly understand the term _latus rectum_ used in conic sections\nunless he has seen it in Apollonius as the _erect side_ (\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\n{orthia pleura}) of a certain rectangle in the case of each of the three\nconics?[3] The word _ordinate_ can hardly convey anything to one who\ndoes not know that it is what Apollonius describes as 'the straight line\ndrawn down (from a point on the curve) in the _prescribed_ or _ordained_\nmanner (\u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7 {tetagmen\u00f4s kat\u00eagmen\u00ea})'. _Asymptote_ again\ncomes from \u03b1\u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03c4\u03c9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 {asympt\u00f4tos}, _non-meeting_, _non-secant_, and had\nwith the Greeks a more general signification as well as the narrower one\nwhich it has for us: it was sometimes used of parallel lines, which also\n'do not meet'.\n\n    [3] In the case of the parabola, the base (as distinct from the\n    'erect side') of the rectangle is what is called the _abscissa_ (Gk.\n    \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7 {apotemnomen\u00ea}, 'cut off') of the ordinate, and the\n    rectangle itself is equal to the square on the ordinate. In the case\n    of the central conics, the base of the rectangle is 'the transverse\n    side of the figure' or the transverse diameter (the diameter of\n    reference), and the rectangle is equal to the square on the diameter\n    conjugate to the diameter of reference.\n\nAgain, if we take up a textbook of geometry written in accordance with\nthe most modern Education Board circular or University syllabus, we\nshall find that the phraseology used (except where made more colloquial\nand less scientific) is almost all pure Greek. The Greek tongue was\nextraordinarily well adapted as a vehicle of scientific thought. One of\nthe characteristics of Euclid's language which his commentator Proclus\nis most fond of emphasizing is its marvellous _exactness_ (\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\n{akribeia}). The language of the Greek geometers is also wonderfully\nconcise, notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary. One of the\ncomplaints often made against Euclid is that he is 'diffuse'. Yet\n(apart from abbreviations in writing) it will be found that the\nexposition of corresponding matters in modern elementary textbooks\ngenerally takes up, not less, but more space. And, to say nothing of\nthe perfect finish of Archimedes's treatises, we shall find in Heron,\nPtolemy and Pappus veritable models of concise statement. The purely\ngeometrical proof by Heron of the formula for the area of a triangle,\n\u0394{D}=\u221a_{s(s-a)(s-b)(s-c)}_, and the geometrical propositions in Book I\nof Ptolemy's _Syntaxis_ (including 'Ptolemy's Theorem') are cases in\npoint.\n\nThe principles of geometry and arithmetic (in the sense of the theory of\nnumbers) are stated in the preliminary matter of Books I and VII of\nEuclid. But Euclid was not their discoverer; they were gradually evolved\nfrom the time of Pythagoras onwards. Aristotle is clear about the nature\nof the principles and their classification. Every demonstrative science,\nhe says, has to do with three things, the subject-matter, the things\nproved, and the things from which the proof starts (\u03b5\u03be \u1f61\u03bd {ex h\u00f4n}). It\nis not everything that can be proved, otherwise the chain of proof would\nbe endless; you must begin somewhere, and you must start with things\nadmitted but indemonstrable. These are, first, principles common to all\nsciences which are called _axioms_ or _common opinions_, as that 'of two\ncontradictories one must be true', or 'if equals be subtracted from\nequals, the remainders are equal'; secondly, principles peculiar to the\nsubject-matter of the particular science, say geometry. First among the\nlatter principles are definitions; there must be agreement as to what we\nmean by certain terms. But a definition asserts nothing about the\nexistence or non-existence of the thing defined. The existence of the\nvarious things defined has to be _proved_ except in the case of a few\nprimary things in each science the existence of which is indemonstrable\nand must be _assumed_ among the first principles of the science; thus in\ngeometry we must assume the existence of points and lines, and in\narithmetic of the unit. Lastly, we must assume certain other things\nwhich are less obvious and cannot be proved but yet have to be\naccepted; these are called _postulates_, because they make a demand on\nthe faith of the learner. Euclid's Postulates are of this kind,\nespecially that known as the parallel-postulate.\n\nThe methods of solution of problems were no doubt first applied in\nparticular cases and then gradually systematized; the technical terms\nfor them were probably invented later, after the methods themselves had\nbecome established.\n\nOne method of solution was the _reduction_ of one problem to another.\nThis was called \u03b1\u03c0\u03b1\u03b3\u03c9\u03b3\u03b7 {apag\u00f4g\u00ea}, a term which seems to occur first in\nAristotle. But instances of such reduction occurred long before.\nHippocrates of Chios reduced the problem of duplicating the cube to that\nof finding two mean proportionals in continued proportion between two\nstraight lines, that is, he showed that, if the latter problem could be\nsolved, the former was thereby solved also; and it is probable that\nthere were still earlier cases in the Pythagorean geometry.\n\nNext there is the method of mathematical _analysis_. This method is said\nto have been 'communicated' or 'explained' by Plato to Leodamas of\nThasos; but, like reduction (to which it is closely akin), analysis in\nthe mathematical sense must have been in use much earlier. _Analysis_\nand its correlative _synthesis_ are defined by Pappus: 'in analysis we\nassume that which is sought as if it were already done, and we inquire\nwhat it is from which this results, and again what is the antecedent\ncause of the latter, and so on, until by so retracing our steps we come\nupon something already known or belonging to the class of principles.\nBut in synthesis, reversing the process, we take as already done that\nwhich was last arrived at in the analysis, and, by arranging in their\nnatural order as consequences what were before antecedents and\nsuccessively connecting them one with another, we arrive finally at the\nconstruction of that which was sought.'\n\nThe method of _reductio ad absurdum_ is a variety of analysis. Starting\nfrom a hypothesis, namely the contradictory of what we desire to prove,\nwe use the same process of analysis, carrying it back until we arrive at\nsomething admittedly false or absurd. Aristotle describes this method in\nvarious ways as _reductio ad absurdum_, proof _per impossibile_, or\nproof leading to the impossible. But here again, though the term was\nnew, the method was not. The paradoxes of Zeno are classical instances.\n\nLastly, the Greeks established the form of exposition which still\ngoverns geometrical work, simply because it is dictated by strict logic.\nIt is seen in Euclid's propositions, with their separate formal\ndivisions, to which specific names were afterwards assigned, (1) the\n_enunciation_ (\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {protasis}), (2) the _setting-out_ (\u03b5\u03ba\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2\n{ekthesis}), (3) the \u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 {diorismos}, being a re-statement of what\nwe are required to do or prove, not in general terms (as in the\n_enunciation_), but with reference to the particular data contained in\nthe _setting-out_, (4) the _construction_ (\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03c5\u03b7 {kataskeu\u00ea}), (5)\nthe _proof_ (\u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03be\u03b9\u03c2 {apodeixis}), (6) the _conclusion_ (\u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1\n{symperasma}). In the case of a problem it often happens that a solution\nis not possible unless the particular data are such as to satisfy\ncertain conditions; in this case there is yet another constituent part\nin the proposition, namely the statement of the conditions or limits of\npossibility, which was called by the same name \u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 {diorismos},\ndefinition or delimitation, as that applied to the third constituent\npart of a theorem.\n\nWe have so far endeavoured to indicate generally the finality and the\nabiding value of the work done by the creators of mathematical science.\nIt remains to summarize, as briefly as possible, the history of Greek\nmathematics according to periods and subjects.\n\nThe Greeks of course took what they could in the shape of elementary\nfacts in geometry and astronomy from the Egyptians and Babylonians. But\nsome of the essential characteristics of the Greek genius assert\nthemselves even in their borrowings from these or other sources. Here,\nas everywhere else, we see their directness and concentration; they\nalways knew what they wanted, and they had an unerring instinct for\ntaking only what was worth having and rejecting the rest. This is\nillustrated by the story of Pythagoras's travels. He consorted with\npriests and prophets and was initiated into the religious rites\npractised in different places, not out of religious enthusiasm 'as you\nmight think' (says our informant), but in order that he might not\noverlook any fragment of knowledge worth acquiring that might lie hidden\nin the mysteries of divine worship.\n\nThis story also illustrates an important advantage which the Greeks had\nover the Egyptians and Babylonians. In those countries science, such as\nit was, was the monopoly of the priests; and, where this is the case,\nthe first steps in science are apt to prove the last also, because the\nscientific results attained tend to become involved in religious\nprescriptions and routine observances, and so to end in a collection of\nlifeless formulae. Fortunately for the Greeks, they had no organized\npriesthood; untrammelled by prescription, traditional dogmas or\nsuperstition, they could give their reasoning faculties free play. Thus\nthey were able to create science as a living thing susceptible of\ndevelopment without limit.\n\nGreek geometry, as also Greek astronomy, begins with Thales (about\n624-547 B. C.), who travelled in Egypt and is said to have brought\ngeometry from thence. Such geometry as there was in Egypt arose out of\npractical needs. Revenue was raised by the taxation of landed property,\nand its assessment depended on the accurate fixing of the boundaries of\nthe various holdings. When these were removed by the periodical flooding\ndue to the rising of the Nile, it was necessary to replace them, or to\ndetermine the taxable area independently of them, by an art of\nland-surveying. We conclude from the Papyrus Rhind (say 1700 B. C.) and\nother documents that Egyptian geometry consisted mainly of practical\nrules for measuring, with more or less accuracy, (1) such areas as\nsquares, triangles, trapezia, and circles, (2) the solid content of\nmeasures of corn, &c., of different shapes. The Egyptians also\nconstructed pyramids of a certain slope by means of arithmetical\ncalculations based on a certain ratio, _se-qe\u1e6d_, namely the ratio of\nhalf the side of the base to the height, which is in fact equivalent to\nthe co-tangent of the angle of slope. The use of this ratio implies the\nnotion of similarity of figures, especially triangles. The Egyptians\nknew, too, that a triangle with its sides in the ratio of the numbers 3,\n4, 5 is right-angled, and used the fact as a means of drawing right\nangles. But there is no sign that they knew the general property of a\nright-angled triangle (= Eucl. I. 47), of which this is a particular\ncase, or that they proved any general theorem in geometry.\n\nNo doubt Thales, when he was in Egypt, would see diagrams drawn to\nillustrate the rules for the measurement of circles and other plane\nfigures, and these diagrams would suggest to him certain similarities\nand congruences which would set him thinking whether there were not some\nelementary general principles underlying the construction and relations\nof different figures and parts of figures. This would be in accord with\nthe Greek instinct for generalization and their wish to be able to\naccount for everything on rational principles.\n\nThe following theorems are attributed to Thales: (1) that a circle is\nbisected by any diameter (Eucl. I, Def. 17), (2) that the angles at the\nbase of an isosceles triangle are equal (Eucl. I. 5), (3) that, if two\nstraight lines cut one another, the vertically opposite angles are equal\n(Eucl. I. 15), (4) that, if two triangles have two angles and one side\nrespectively equal, the triangles are equal in all respects (Eucl. I.\n26). He is said (5) to have been the first to inscribe a right-angled\ntriangle in a circle, which must mean that he was the first to discover\nthat the angle in a semicircle is a right angle (cf. Eucl. III. 31).\n\nElementary as these things are, they represent a new departure of a\nmomentous kind, being the first steps towards a _theory_ of geometry. On\nthis point we cannot do better than quote some remarks from Kant's\npreface to the second edition of his _Kritik der reinen Vernunft_.\n\n'Mathematics has, from the earliest times to which the history of human\nreason goes back, (that is to say) with that wonderful people the\nGreeks, travelled the safe road of a _science_. But it must not be\nsupposed that it was as easy for mathematics as it was for logic, where\nreason is concerned with itself alone, to find, or rather to build for\nitself, that royal road. I believe on the contrary that with mathematics\nit remained for long a case of groping about--the Egyptians in\nparticular were still at that stage--and that this transformation must\nbe ascribed to a _revolution_ brought about by the happy inspiration of\none man in trying an experiment, from which point onward the road that\nmust be taken could no longer be missed, and the safe way of a science\nwas struck and traced out for all time and to distances illimitable....\nA light broke on the first man who demonstrated the property of the\nisosceles triangle (whether his name was Thales or what you will)....'\n\nThales also solved two problems of a practical kind: (1) he showed how\nto measure the distance of a ship at sea, and (2) he found the heights\nof pyramids by means of the shadows thrown on the ground by the pyramid\nand by a stick of known length at the same moment; one account says that\nhe chose the time when the lengths of the stick and of its shadow were\nequal, but in either case he argued by similarity of triangles.\n\nIn astronomy Thales predicted a solar eclipse which was probably that of\nthe 28th May 585 B. C. Now the Babylonians, as the result of\nobservations continued through centuries, had discovered the period of\n223 lunations after which eclipses recur. It is most likely therefore\nthat Thales had heard of this period, and that his prediction was based\nupon it. He is further said to have used the Little Bear for finding the\npole, to have discovered the inequality of the four astronomical\nseasons, and to have written works _On the Equinox_ and _On the\nSolstice_.\n\nAfter Thales come the Pythagoreans. Of the Pythagoreans Aristotle says\nthat they applied themselves to the study of mathematics and were the\nfirst to advance that science, going so far as to find in the principles\nof mathematics the principles of all existing things. Of Pythagoras\nhimself we are told that he attached supreme importance to the study of\narithmetic, advancing it and taking it out of the region of practical\nutility, and again that he transformed the study of geometry into a\nliberal education, examining the principles of the science from the\nbeginning.\n\nThe very word \u03bc\u03b1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 {math\u00eamata}, which originally meant 'subjects of\ninstruction' generally, is said to have been first appropriated to\nmathematics by the Pythagoreans.\n\nIn saying that arithmetic began with Pythagoras we have to distinguish\nbetween the uses of that word then and now. \u0391\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 {Arithm\u00eatik\u00ea}\nwith the Greeks was distinguished from \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 {logistik\u00ea}, the\nscience of calculation. It is the latter word which would cover\narithmetic in our sense, or practical calculation; the term \u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\n{arithm\u00eatik\u00ea} was restricted to the science of numbers considered in\nthemselves, or, as we should say, the Theory of Numbers. Another way of\nputting the distinction was to say that \u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 {arithm\u00eatik\u00ea} dealt\nwith absolute numbers or numbers in the abstract, and \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\n{logistik\u00ea} with numbered _things_ or concrete numbers; thus \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\n{logistik\u00ea} included simple problems about numbers of apples, bowls, or\nobjects generally, such as are found in the Greek Anthology and\nsometimes involve simple algebraical equations.\n\nThe Theory of Numbers then began with Pythagoras (about 572-497 B. C.).\nIt included definitions of the unit and of number, and the\nclassification and definitions of the various classes of numbers, odd,\neven, prime, composite, and sub-divisions of these such as odd-even,\neven-times-even, &c. Again there were figured numbers, namely,\ntriangular numbers, squares, oblong numbers, polygonal numbers\n(pentagons, hexagons, &c.) corresponding respectively to plane figures,\nand pyramidal numbers, cubes, parallelepipeds, &c., corresponding to\nsolid figures in geometry. The treatment was mostly geometrical, the\nnumbers being represented by dots filling up geometrical figures of the\nvarious kinds. The laws of formation of the various figured numbers were\nestablished. In this investigation the _gnomon_ played an important\npart. Originally meaning the upright needle of a sun-dial, the term was\nnext used for a figure like a carpenter's square, and then was applied\nto a figure of that shape put round two sides of a square and making up\na larger square. The arithmetical application of the term was similar.\nIf we represent a unit by one dot and put round it three dots in such a\nway that the four form the corners of a square, _three_ is the first\ngnomon. _Five_ dots put at equal distances round two sides of the square\ncontaining four dots make up the next square (3\u00b2), and _five_ is the\nsecond gnomon. Generally, if we have _n\u00b2_ dots so arranged as to fill up\na square with _n_ for its side, the gnomon to be put round it to make up\nthe next square, _(n+1)\u00b2_, has _2n+1_ dots. In the formation of squares,\ntherefore, the successive gnomons are the series of odd numbers\nfollowing 1 (the first square), namely 3, 5, 7, ... In the formation of\n_oblong_ numbers (numbers of the form _n(n+1)_), the first of which is\n1. 2, the successive gnomons are the terms after 2 in the series of\n_even_ numbers 2, 4, 6.... Triangular numbers are formed by adding to 1\n(the first triangle) the terms after 1 in the series of natural numbers\n1, 2, 3 ...; these are therefore the gnomons (by analogy) for triangles.\nThe gnomons for pentagonal numbers are the terms after 1 in the\narithmetical progression 1, 4, 7, 10 ... (with 3, or 5-2, as the common\ndifference) and so on; the common difference of the successive gnomons\nfor an _a_-gonal number is _a-2_.\n\nFrom the series of gnomons for squares we easily deduce a formula for\nfinding square numbers which are the sum of two squares. For, the gnomon\n_2n+1_ being the difference between the successive squares _n\u00b2_ and\n_(n+1)\u00b2_, we have only to make _2n+1_ a square. Suppose that _2n+1=m\u00b2_;\ntherefore _n=\u00bd(m\u00b2-1)_, and _{\u00bd(m\u00b2-1)}\u00b2+m\u00b2={\u00bd(m\u00b2+1)}\u00b2_, where _m_ is any\nodd number. This is the formula actually attributed to Pythagoras.\n\nPythagoras is said to have discovered the theory of proportionals or\nproportion. This was a numerical theory and therefore was applicable to\ncommensurable magnitudes only; it was no doubt somewhat on the lines of\nEuclid, Book VII. Connected with the theory of proportion was that of\n_means_, and Pythagoras was acquainted with three of these, the\narithmetic, geometric, and sub-contrary (afterwards called harmonic). In\nparticular Pythagoras is said to have introduced from Babylon into\nGreece the 'most perfect' proportion, namely:\n\n_a:(a+b)/2=2ab/(a+b):b_,\n\nwhere the second and third terms are respectively the arithmetic and\nharmonic mean between _a_ and _b_. A particular case is 12:9=8:6.\n\nThis bears upon what was probably Pythagoras's greatest discovery,\nnamely that the musical intervals correspond to certain arithmetical\nratios between lengths of string at the same tension, the octave\ncorresponding to the ratio 2:1, the fifth to 3:2 and the fourth to 4:3.\nThese ratios being the same as those of 12 to 6, 8, 9 respectively, we\ncan understand how the third term, 8, in the above proportion came to\nbe called the 'harmonic' mean between 12 and 6.\n\nThe Pythagorean arithmetic as a whole, with the developments made after\nthe time of Pythagoras himself, is mainly known to us through\nNicomachus's _Introductio arithmetica_, Iamblichus's commentary on the\nsame, and Theon of Smyrna's work _Expositio rerum mathematicarum ad\nlegendum Platonem utilium_. The things in these books most deserving of\nnotice are the following.\n\nFirst, there is the description of a 'perfect' number (a number which is\nequal to the sum of all its parts, i.e. all its integral divisors\nincluding 1 but excluding the number itself), with a statement of the\nproperty that all such numbers end in 6 or 8. Four such numbers, namely\n6, 28, 496, 8128, were known to Nicomachus. The law of formation for\nsuch numbers is first found in Eucl. IX. 36 proving that, if the sum\n(S_{n}) of _n_ terms of the series 1, 2, 2\u00b2, 2\u00b3 ... is prime, then\nS_{n}.2^{n-1} is a perfect number.\n\nSecondly, Theon of Smyrna gives the law of formation of the series of\n'side-' and 'diameter-' numbers which satisfy the equations _2x\u00b2-y\u00b2=\u00b11_.\nThe law depends on the proposition proved in Eucl. II. 10 to the effect\nthat _(2x+y)\u00b2-2(x+y)\u00b2=2x\u00b2-y\u00b2_, whence it follows that, if _x_, _y_\nsatisfy either of the above equations, then _2x+y_, _x+y_ is a solution\nin higher numbers of the other equation. The successive solutions give\nvalues for _y/x_, namely 1/1, 3/2, 7/5, 17/12, 41/29, ..., which are\nsuccessive approximations to the value of \u221a2 (the ratio of the diagonal\nof a square to its side). The occasion for this method of approximation\nto \u221a2 (which can be carried as far as we please) was the discovery by\nthe Pythagoreans of the incommensurable or irrational in this particular\ncase.\n\nThirdly, Iamblichus mentions a discovery by Thymaridas, a Pythagorean\nnot later than Plato's time, called the \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1 {epanth\u00eama} ('bloom')\nof Thymaridas, and amounting to the solution of any number of\nsimultaneous equations of the following form:\n\n_x+x\u2081+x\u2082+ ... +x_{n-1} = s_,\n    _x+x\u2081 = a\u2081_,\n    _x+x\u2082 = a\u2082_,\n         ...\n_x+x_{n-1} = a_{n-1}_,\n\nthe solution being _x=((a\u2081+a\u2082+ ... +a_{n-1})-s)/(n-2)_.\n\nThe rule is stated in general terms, but the above representation of its\neffect shows that it is a piece of pure algebra.\n\nThe Pythagorean contributions to geometry were even more remarkable. The\nmost famous proposition attributed to Pythagoras himself is of course\nthe theorem of Eucl. I. 47 that the square on the hypotenuse of any\nright-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the other\ntwo sides. But Proclus also attributes to him, besides the theory of\nproportionals, the construction of the 'cosmic figures', the five\nregular solids.\n\nOne of the said solids, the dodecahedron, has twelve regular pentagons\nfor faces, and the construction of a regular pentagon involves the\ncutting of a straight line 'in extreme and mean ratio' (Eucl. II. 11 and\nVI. 30), which is a particular case of the method known as the\n_application of areas_. This method was fully worked out by the\nPythagoreans and proved one of the most powerful in all Greek geometry.\nThe most elementary case appears in Eucl. I. 44, 45, where it is shown\nhow to apply to a given straight line as base a parallelogram with one\nangle equal to a given angle and equal in area to any given rectilineal\nfigure; this construction is the geometrical equivalent of arithmetical\n_division_. The general case is that in which the parallelogram, though\napplied to the straight line, overlaps it or falls short of it in such a\nway that the part of the parallelogram which extends beyond or falls\nshort of the parallelogram of the same angle and breadth on the given\nstraight line itself (exactly) as base is similar to any given\nparallelogram (Eucl. VI. 28, 29). This is the geometrical equivalent of\nthe solution of the most general form of quadratic equation _ax\u00b1mx\u00b2=C_,\nso far as it has real roots; the condition that the roots may be real\nwas also worked out (=Eucl. VI. 27). It is in the form of 'application\nof areas' that Apollonius obtains the fundamental property of each of\nthe conic sections, and, as we shall see, it is from the terminology of\napplication of areas that Apollonius took the three names _parabola_,\n_hyperbola_, and _ellipse_ which he was the first to give to the three\ncurves.\n\nAnother problem solved by the Pythagoreans was that of drawing a\nrectilineal figure which shall be equal in area to one given rectilineal\nfigure and similar to another. Plutarch mentions a doubt whether it was\nthis problem or the theorem of Eucl. I. 47 on the strength of which\nPythagoras was said to have sacrificed an ox.\n\nThe main particular applications of the theorem of the square on the\nhypotenuse, e. g. those in Euclid, Book II, were also Pythagorean; the\nconstruction of a square equal to a given rectangle (Eucl. II. 14) is\none of them, and corresponds to the solution of the pure quadratic\nequation _x\u00b2=ab_.\n\nThe Pythagoreans knew the properties of parallels and proved the theorem\nthat the sum of the three angles of any triangle is equal to two right\nangles.\n\nAs we have seen, the Pythagorean theory of proportion, being numerical,\nwas inadequate in that it did not apply to incommensurable magnitudes;\nbut, with this qualification, we may say that the Pythagorean geometry\ncovered the bulk of the subject-matter of Books I, II, IV and VI of\nEuclid's _Elements_. The case is less clear with regard to Book III of\nthe _Elements_; but, as the main propositions of that Book were known to\nHippocrates of Chios in the second half of the fifth century B. C., we\nconclude that they, too, were part of the Pythagorean geometry.\n\nLastly, the Pythagoreans discovered the existence of the incommensurable\nor irrational in the particular case of the diagonal of a square in\nrelation to its side. Aristotle mentions an ancient proof of the\nincommensurability of the diagonal with the side by a _reductio ad\nabsurdum_ showing that, if the diagonal were commensurable with the\nside, it would follow that one and the same number is both odd and even.\nThis proof was doubtless Pythagorean.\n\nA word should be added about the Pythagorean astronomy. Pythagoras was\nthe first to hold that the earth (and no doubt each of the other\nheavenly bodies also) is spherical in shape, and he was aware that the\nsun, moon and planets have independent movements of their own in a sense\nopposite to that of the daily rotation; but he seems to have kept the\nearth in the centre. His successors in the school (one Hicetas of\nSyracuse and Philolaus are alternatively credited with this innovation)\nactually abandoned the geocentric idea and made the earth, like the sun,\nthe moon, and the other planets, revolve in a circle round the 'central\nfire', in which resided the governing principle ordering and directing\nthe movement of the universe.\n\nThe geometry of which we have so far spoken belongs to the Elements.\nBut, before the body of the Elements was complete, the Greeks had\nadvanced beyond the Elements. By the second half of the fifth century B.\nC. they had investigated three famous problems in higher geometry, (1)\nthe squaring of the circle, (2) the trisection of any angle, (3) the\nduplication of the cube. The great names belonging to this period are\nHippias of Elis, Hippocrates of Chios, and Democritus.\n\nHippias of Elis invented a certain curve described by combining two\nuniform movements (one angular and the other rectilinear) taking the\nsame time to complete. Hippias himself used his curve for the\ntrisection of any angle or the division of it in any ratio; but it was\nafterwards employed by Dinostratus, a brother of Eudoxus's pupil\nMenaechmus, and by Nicomedes for squaring the circle, whence it got the\nname \u03c4\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 {tetrag\u00f4nizousa}, _quadratrix_.\n\nHippocrates of Chios is mentioned by Aristotle as an instance to prove\nthat a man may be a distinguished geometer and, at the same time, a fool\nin the ordinary affairs of life. He occupies an important place both in\nelementary geometry and in relation to two of the higher problems above\nmentioned. He was, so far as is known, the first compiler of a book of\nElements; and he was the first to prove the important theorem of Eucl.\nXII. 2 that circles are to one another as the squares on their\ndiameters, from which he further deduced that similar segments of\ncircles are to one another as the squares on their bases. These\npropositions were used by him in his tract on the squaring of _lunes_,\nwhich was intended to lead up to the squaring of the circle. The\nessential portions of the tract are preserved in a passage of\nSimplicius's commentary on Aristotle's _Physics_, which contains\nsubstantial extracts from Eudemus's lost _History of Geometry_.\nHippocrates showed how to square three particular lunes of different\nkinds and then, lastly, he squared the sum of a circle and a certain\nlune. Unfortunately the last-mentioned lune was not one of those which\ncan be squared, so that the attempt to square the circle in this way\nfailed after all.\n\nHippocrates also attacked the problem of doubling the cube. There are\ntwo versions of the origin of this famous problem. According to one\nstory an old tragic poet had represented Minos as having been\ndissatisfied with the size of a cubical tomb erected for his son Glaucus\nand having told the architect to make it double the size while retaining\nthe cubical form. The other story says that the Delians, suffering from\na pestilence, consulted the oracle and were told to double a certain\naltar as a means of staying the plague. Hippocrates did not indeed solve\nthe problem of duplication, but reduced it to another, namely that of\nfinding two mean proportionals in continued proportion between two given\nstraight lines; and the problem was ever afterwards attacked in this\nform. If _x_, _y_ be the two required mean proportionals between two\nstraight lines _a_, _b_, then _a:x=x:y=y:b_, whence _b/a=(x/a)\u00b3_, and,\nas a particular case, if _b=2a_, _x\u00b3=2a\u00b3_, so that, when _x_ is found,\nthe cube is doubled.\n\nDemocritus wrote a large number of mathematical treatises, the titles\nonly of which are preserved. We gather from one of these titles, 'On\nirrational lines and solids', that he wrote on irrationals. Democritus\nrealized as fully as Zeno, and expressed with no less piquancy, the\ndifficulty connected with the continuous and the infinitesimal. This\nappears from his dilemma about the circular base of a cone and a\nparallel section; the section which he means is a section 'indefinitely\nnear' (as the phrase is) to the base, i. e. the _very next_ section, as\nwe might say (if there were one). Is it, said Democritus, equal or not\nequal to the base? If it is equal, so will the very next section to it\nbe, and so on, so that the cone will really be, not a cone, but a\ncylinder. If it is unequal to the base and in fact less, the surface of\nthe cone will be jagged, like steps, which is very absurd. We may be\nsure that Democritus's work on 'The contact of a circle or a sphere'\ndiscussed a like difficulty.\n\nLastly, Archimedes tells us that Democritus was the first to state,\nthough he could not give a rigorous proof, that the volume of a cone or\na pyramid is one-third of that of the cylinder or prism respectively on\nthe same base and having equal height, theorems first proved by Eudoxus.\n\nWe come now to the time of Plato, and here the great names are Archytas,\nTheodoras of Cyrene, Theaetetus, and Eudoxus.\n\nArchytas (about 430-360 B. C.) wrote on music and the numerical ratios\ncorresponding to the intervals of the tetrachord. He is said to have\nbeen the first to write a treatise on mechanics based on mathematical\nprinciples; on the practical side he invented a mechanical dove which\nwould fly. In geometry he gave the first solution of the problem of the\ntwo mean proportionals, using a wonderful construction in three\ndimensions which determined a certain point as the intersection of three\nsurfaces, (1) a certain cone, (2) a half-cylinder, (3) an anchor-ring or\n_tore_ with inner diameter _nil_.\n\nTheodorus, Plato's teacher in mathematics, extended the theory of the\nirrational by proving incommensurability in certain particular cases\nother than that of the diagonal of a square in relation to its side,\nwhich was already known. He proved that the side of a square containing\n3 square feet, or 5 square feet, or any non-square number of square feet\nup to 17 is incommensurable with one foot, in other words that \u221a3, \u221a5\n... \u221a17 are all incommensurable with 1. Theodorus's proof was evidently\nnot general; and it was reserved for Theaetetus to comprehend all these\nirrationals in one definition, and to prove the property generally as it\nis proved in Eucl. X. 9. Much of the content of the rest of Euclid's\nBook X (dealing with compound irrationals), as also of Book XIII on the\nfive regular solids, was due to Theaetetus, who is even said to have\ndiscovered two of those solids (the octahedron and icosahedron).\n\nPlato (427-347 B. C.) was probably not an original mathematician, but he\n'caused mathematics in general and geometry in particular to make a\ngreat advance by reason of his enthusiasm for them'. He encouraged the\nmembers of his school to specialize in mathematics and astronomy; e. g.\nwe are told that in astronomy he set it as a problem to all earnest\nstudents to find 'what are the uniform and ordered movements by the\nassumption of which the apparent motions of the planets may be\naccounted for'. In Plato's own writings are found certain definitions,\ne. g. that of a straight line as 'that of which the middle covers the\nends', and some interesting mathematical illustrations, especially that\nin the second geometrical passage in the _Meno_ (86E-87C). To Plato\nhimself are attributed (1) a formula _(n\u00b2-1)\u00b2+(2n)\u00b2=(n\u00b2+1)\u00b2_ for finding\ntwo square numbers the sum of which is a square number, (2) the\ninvention of the method of analysis, which he is said to have explained\nto Leodamas of Thasos (_mathematical_ analysis was, however, certainly,\nin practice, employed long before). The solution, attributed to Plato,\nof the problem of the two mean proportionals by means of a frame\nresembling that which a shoemaker uses to measure a foot, can hardly be\nhis.\n\nEudoxus (408-355 B. C.), an original genius second to none (unless it be\nArchimedes) in the history of our subject, made two discoveries of\nsupreme importance for the further development of Greek geometry.\n\n(1) As we have seen, the discovery of the incommensurable rendered\ninadequate the Pythagorean theory of proportion, which applied to\ncommensurable magnitudes only. It would no doubt be possible, in most\ncases, to replace proofs depending on proportions by others; but this\ninvolved great inconvenience, and a slur was cast on geometry generally.\nThe trouble was remedied once for all by Eudoxus's discovery of the\ngreat theory of proportion, applicable to commensurable and\nincommensurable magnitudes alike, which is expounded in Euclid's Book V.\nWell might Barrow say of this theory that 'there is nothing in the whole\nbody of the elements of a more subtile invention, nothing more solidly\nestablished'. The keystone of the structure is the definition of equal\nratios (Eucl. V, Def. 5); and twenty-three centuries have not abated a\njot from its value, as is plain from the facts that Weierstrass repeats\nit word for word as his definition of equal numbers, and it corresponds\nalmost to the point of coincidence with the modern treatment of\nirrationals due to Dedekind.\n\n(2) Eudoxus discovered the method of exhaustion for measuring\ncurvilinear areas and solids, to which, with the extensions given to it\nby Archimedes, Greek geometry owes its greatest triumphs. Antiphon the\nSophist, in connexion with attempts to square the circle, had asserted\nthat, if we inscribe successive regular polygons in a circle,\ncontinually doubling the number of sides, we shall sometime arrive at a\npolygon the sides of which will coincide with the circumference of the\ncircle. Warned by the unanswerable arguments of Zeno against\ninfinitesimals, mathematicians substituted for this the statement that,\nby continuing the construction, we can inscribe a polygon approaching\nequality with the circle _as nearly as we please_. The method of\nexhaustion used, for the purpose of proof by _reductio ad absurdum_, the\nlemma proved in Eucl. X. 1 (to the effect that, if from any magnitude we\nsubtract not less than half, and then from the remainder not less than\nhalf, and so on continually, there will sometime be left a magnitude\nless than any assigned magnitude of the same kind, however small): and\nthis again depends on an assumption which is practically contained in\nEucl. V, Def. 4, but is generally known as the Axiom of Archimedes,\nstating that, if we have two unequal magnitudes, their difference\n(however small) can, if continually added to itself, be made to exceed\nany magnitude of the same kind (however great).\n\nThe method of exhaustion is seen in operation in Eucl. XII. 1-2, 3-7\nCor., 10, 16-18. Props. 3-7 Cor. and Prop. 10 prove that the volumes of\na pyramid and a cone are one-third of the prism and cylinder\nrespectively on the same base and of equal height; and Archimedes\nexpressly says that these facts were first proved by Eudoxus.\n\nIn astronomy Eudoxus is famous for the beautiful theory of concentric\nspheres which he invented to explain the apparent motions of the\nplanets and, particularly, their apparent stationary points and\nretrogradations. The theory applied also to the sun and moon, for each\nof which Eudoxus employed three spheres. He represented the motion of\neach planet as produced by the rotations of four spheres concentric with\nthe earth, one within the other, and connected in the following way.\nEach of the inner spheres revolves about a diameter the ends of which\n(poles) are fixed on the next sphere enclosing it. The outermost sphere\nrepresents the daily rotation, the second a motion along the zodiac\ncircle; the poles of the third sphere are fixed on the latter circle;\nthe poles of the fourth sphere (carrying the planet fixed on its\nequator) are so fixed on the third sphere, and the speeds and directions\nof rotation so arranged, that the planet describes on the second sphere\na curve called the _hippopede_ (horse-fetter), or a figure of eight,\nlying along and longitudinally bisected by the zodiac circle. The whole\narrangement is a marvel of geometrical ingenuity.\n\nHeraclides of Pontus (about 388-315 B. C.), a pupil of Plato, made a\ngreat step forward in astronomy by his declaration that the earth\nrotates on its own axis once in 24 hours, and by his discovery that\nMercury and Venus revolve about the sun like satellites.\n\nMenaechmus, a pupil of Eudoxus, was the discoverer of the conic\nsections, two of which, the parabola and the hyperbola, he used for\nsolving the problem of the two mean proportionals. If _a:x=x:y=y:b_,\nthen _x\u00b2=ay_, _y\u00b2=bx_ and _xy=ab_. These equations represent, in\nCartesian co-ordinates, and with rectangular axes, the conics by the\nintersection of which two and two Menaechmus solved the problem; in the\ncase of the rectangular hyperbola it was the asymptote-property which he\nused.\n\nWe pass to Euclid's times. A little older than Euclid, Autolycus of\nPitane wrote two books, _On the Moving Sphere_, a work on Sphaeric for\nuse in astronomy, and _On Risings and Settings_. The former work is the\nearliest Greek textbook which has reached us intact. It was before\nEuclid when he wrote his _Phaenomena_, and there are many points of\ncontact between the two books.\n\nEuclid flourished about 300 B. C. or a little earlier. His great work,\nthe _Elements_ in thirteen Books, is too well known to need description.\nNo work presumably, except the Bible, has had such a reign; and future\ngenerations will come back to it again and again as they tire of the\nvariegated substitutes for it and the confusion resulting from their\nbewildering multiplicity. After what has been said above of the growth\nof the Elements, we can appreciate the remark of Proclus about Euclid,\n'who put together the Elements, collecting many of Eudoxus's theorems,\nperfecting many of Theaetetus's and also bringing to irrefragable\ndemonstration the things which were only somewhat loosely proved by his\npredecessors'. Though a large portion of the subject-matter had been\ninvestigated by those predecessors, everything goes to show that the\nwhole arrangement was Euclid's own; it is certain that he made great\nchanges in the order of propositions and in the proofs, and that his\ninnovations began at the very beginning of Book I.\n\nEuclid wrote other books on both elementary and higher geometry, and on\nthe other mathematical subjects known in his day. The elementary\ngeometrical works include the _Data_ and _On Divisions_ (_of figures_),\nthe first of which survives in Greek and the second in Arabic only; also\nthe _Pseudaria_, now lost, which was a sort of guide to fallacies in\ngeometrical reasoning. The treatises on higher geometry are all lost;\nthey include (1) the _Conics_ in four Books, which covered almost the\nsame ground as the first three Books of Apollonius's _Conics_, although\nno doubt, for Euclid, the conics were still, as with his predecessors,\nsections of a right-angled, an obtuse-angled, and an acute-angled cone\nrespectively made by a plane perpendiular to a generator in each case;\n(2) the _Porisms_ in three Books, the importance and difficulty of which\ncan be inferred from Pappus's account of it and the lemmas which he\ngives for use with it; (3) the _Surface-Loci_, to which again Pappus\nfurnishes lemmas; one of these implies that Euclid assumed as known the\nfocus-directrix property of the three conics, which is absent from\nApollonius's _Conics_.\n\nIn applied mathematics Euclid wrote (1) the _Phaenomena_, a work on\nspherical astronomy in which \u1f41 \u1f41\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03c9\u03bd {ho horiz\u00f4n} (without \u03ba\u03c5\u03ba\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2\n{kyklos} or any qualifying words) appears for the first time in the\nsense of _horizon_; (2) the _Optics_, a kind of elementary treatise on\nperspective: these two treatises are extant in Greek; (3) a work on the\nElements of Music. The _Sectio Canonis_, which has come down under the\nname of Euclid, can, however, hardly be his in its present form.\n\nIn the period between Euclid and Archimedes comes Aristarchus of Samos\n(about 310-230 B. C.), famous for having anticipated Copernicus.\nAccepting Heraclides's view that the earth rotates about its own axis,\nAristarchus went further and put forward the hypothesis that the sun\nitself is at rest, and that the earth, as well as Mercury, Venus, and\nthe other planets, revolve in circles about the sun. We have this on the\nunquestionable authority of Archimedes, who was only some twenty-five\nyears later, and who must have seen the book containing the hypothesis\nin question. We are told too that Cleanthes the Stoic thought that\nAristarchus ought to be indicted on the charge of impiety for setting\nthe Hearth of the Universe in motion.\n\nOne work of Aristarchus, _On the sizes and distances of the Sun and\nMoon_, which is extant in Greek, is highly interesting in itself, though\nit contains no word of the heliocentric hypothesis. Thoroughly classical\nin form and style, it lays down certain hypotheses and then deduces\ntherefrom, by rigorous geometry, the sizes and distances of the sun and\nmoon. If the hypotheses had been exact, the results would have been\ncorrect too; but Aristarchus in fact assumed a certain angle to be 87\u00b0\nwhich is really 89\u00b0 50', and the angle subtended at the centre of the\nearth by the diameter of either the sun or the moon to be 2\u00b0, whereas we\nknow from Archimedes that Aristarchus himself discovered that the latter\nangle is only 1/2\u00b0. The effect of Aristarchus's geometry is to find\narithmetical limits to the values of what are really trigonometrical\nratios of certain small angles, namely\n\n1/18 > sin 3\u00b0 > 1/20, 1/45 > sin 1\u00b0 > 1/60, 1 > cos 1\u00b0 > 89/90.\n\nThe main results obtained are (1) that the diameter of the sun is\nbetween 18 and 20 times the diameter of the moon, (2) that the diameter\nof the moon is between 2/45ths and 1/30th of the distance of the centre\nof the moon from our eye, and (3) that the diameter of the sun is\nbetween 19/3rds and 43/6ths of the diameter of the earth. The book\ncontains a good deal of arithmetical calculation.\n\nArchimedes was born about 287 B. C. and was killed at the sack of\nSyracuse by Marcellus's army in 212 B. C. The stories about him are well\nknown, how he said 'Give me a place to stand on, and I will move the\nearth' (\u03c0\u03b1 \u03b2\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03bd {pa b\u00f4 kai kin\u00f4 tan gan}); how, having\nthought of the solution of the problem of the crown when in the bath, he\nran home naked shouting \u1f11\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\u03ba\u03b1, \u1f11\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\u03ba\u03b1 {heur\u00eaka, heur\u00eaka}; and how, the\ncapture of Syracuse having found him intent on a figure drawn on the\nground, he said to a Roman soldier who came up, 'Stand away, fellow,\nfrom my diagram.' Of his work few people know more than that he invented\na tubular screw which is still used for pumping water, and that for a\nlong time he foiled the attacks of the Romans on Syracuse by the\nmechanical devices and engines which he used against them. But he\nthought meanly of these things, and his real interest was in pure\nmathematical speculation; he caused to be engraved on his tomb a\nrepresentation of a cylinder circumscribing a sphere, with the ratio\n3/2 which the cylinder bears to the sphere: from which we infer that he\nregarded this as his greatest discovery.\n\nArchimedes's works are all original, and are perfect models of\nmathematical exposition; their wide range will be seen from the list of\nthose which survive: _On the Sphere and Cylinder_ I, II, _Measurement of\na Circle_, _On Conoids and Spheroids_, _On Spirals_, _On Plane\nEquilibriums_ I, II, the _Sandreckoner_, _Quadrature of the Parabola_,\n_On Floating Bodies_ I, II, and lastly the _Method_ (only discovered in\n1906). The difficult Cattle-Problem is also attributed to him, and a\n_Liber Assumptorum_ which has reached us through the Arabic, but which\ncannot be his in its present form, although some of the propositions in\nit (notably that about the 'Salinon', salt-cellar, and others about\ncircles inscribed in the \u03b1\u03c1\u03b2\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 {arb\u00ealos}, shoemaker's knife) are quite\nlikely to be of Archimedean origin. Among lost works were the\n_Catoptrica_, _On Sphere-making_, and investigations into polyhedra,\nincluding thirteen semi-regular solids, the discovery of which is\nattributed by Pappus to Archimedes.\n\nSpeaking generally, the geometrical works are directed to the\nmeasurement of curvilinear areas and volumes; and Archimedes employs a\nmethod which is a development of Eudoxus's method of exhaustion. Eudoxus\napparently approached the figure to be measured from below only, i. e.\nby means of figures successively inscribed to it. Archimedes approaches\nit from both sides by successively inscribing figures and circumscribing\nothers also, thereby compressing them, as it were, until they coincide\nas nearly as we please with the figure to be measured. In many cases his\nprocedure is, when the analytical equivalents are set down, seen to\namount to real _integration_; this is so with his investigation of the\nareas of a parabolic segment and a spiral, the surface and volume of a\nsphere, and the volume of any segments of the conoids and spheroids.\n\nThe newly-discovered _Method_ is especially interesting as showing how\nArchimedes originally obtained his results; this was by a clever\nmechanical method of (theoretically) _weighing_ infinitesimal elements\nof the figure to be measured against elements of another figure the area\nor content of which (as the case may be) is known; it amounts to an\n_avoidance_ of integration. Archimedes, however, would only admit that\nthe mechanical method is useful for finding results; he did not consider\nthem proved until they were established geometrically.\n\nIn the _Measurement of a Circle_, after proving by exhaustion that the\narea of a circle is equal to a right-angled triangle with the\nperpendicular sides equal respectively to the radius and the\ncircumference of the circle, Archimedes finds, by sheer calculation,\nupper and lower limits to the ratio of the circumference of a circle to\nits diameter (what we call \u03c0 {p}). This he does by inscribing and\ncircumscribing regular polygons of 96 sides and calculating\napproximately their respective perimeters. He begins by assuming as\nknown certain approximate values for \u221a3, namely 1351/780 > \u221a3 > 265/153,\nand his calculations involve approximating to the square roots of\nseveral large numbers (up to seven digits). The text only gives the\nresults, but it is evident that the extraction of square roots presented\nno difficulty, notwithstanding the comparative inconvenience of the\nalphabetic system of numerals. The result obtained is well known, namely\n3-1/7 > \u03c0 {p} > 3-10/71.\n\nThe _Plane Equilibriums_ is the first scientific treatise on the first\nprinciples of mechanics, which are established by pure geometry. The\nmost important result established in Book I is the principle of the\nlever. This was known to Plato and Aristotle, but they had no real\nproof. The Aristotelian _Mechanics_ merely 'refers' the lever 'to the\ncircle', asserting that the force which acts at the greater distance\nfrom the fulcrum moves the system more easily because it describes a\ngreater circle. Archimedes also finds the centre of gravity of a\nparallelogram, a triangle, a trapezium and finally (in Book II) of a\nparabolic segment and of a portion of it cut off by a straight line\nparallel to the base.\n\nThe _Sandreckoner_ is remarkable for the development in it of a system\nfor expressing very large numbers by _orders_ and _periods_ based on\npowers of myriad-myriads (10,000\u00b2). It also contains the important\nreference to the heliocentric theory of the universe put forward by\nAristarchus of Samos in a book of 'hypotheses', as well as historical\ndetails of previous attempts to measure the size of the earth and to\ngive the sizes and distances of the sun and moon.\n\nLastly, Archimedes invented the whole science of hydrostatics. Beginning\nthe treatise _On Floating Bodies_ with an assumption about uniform\npressure in a fluid, he first proves that the surface of a fluid at rest\nis a sphere with its centre at the centre of the earth. Other\npropositions show that, if a solid floats in a fluid, the weight of the\nsolid is equal to that of the fluid displaced, and, if a solid heavier\nthan a fluid is weighed in it, it will be lighter than its true weight\nby the weight of the fluid displaced. Then, after a second assumption\nthat bodies which are forced upwards in a fluid are forced upwards along\nthe perpendiculars to the surface which pass through their centres of\ngravity, Archimedes deals with the position of rest and stability of a\nsegment of a sphere floating in a fluid with its base entirely above or\nentirely below the surface. Book II is an extraordinary _tour de force_,\ninvestigating fully all the positions of rest and stability of a right\nsegment of a paraboloid floating in a fluid according (1) to the\nrelation between the axis of the solid and the parameter of the\ngenerating parabola, and (2) to the specific gravity of the solid in\nrelation to the fluid; the term 'specific gravity' is not used, but the\nidea is fully expressed in other words.\n\nAlmost contemporary with Archimedes was Eratosthenes of Cyrene, to whom\nArchimedes dedicated the _Method_; the preface to this work shows that\nArchimedes thought highly of his mathematical ability. He was indeed\nrecognized by his contemporaries as a man of great distinction in all\nbranches, though the names Beta and Pentathlos[4] applied to him\nindicate that he just fell below the first rank in each subject. Ptolemy\nEuergetes appointed him to be tutor to his son (Philopator), and he\nbecame librarian at Alexandria; he recognized his obligation to Ptolemy\nby erecting a column with a graceful epigram. In this epigram he\nreferred to the earlier solutions of the problem of duplicating the cube\nor finding the two mean proportionals, and advocated his own in\npreference, because it would give any number of means; on the column was\nfixed a bronze representation of his appliance, a frame with\nright-angled triangles (or rectangles) movable along two parallel\ngrooves and over one another, together with a condensed proof. The\n_Platonicus_ of Eratosthenes evidently dealt with the fundamental\nnotions of mathematics in connexion with Plato's philosophy, and seems\nto have begun with the story of the origin of the duplication problem.\n\n    [4] This word primarily means an all-round athlete, a winner in all\n    five of the sports constituting the \u03c0\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b8\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd {pentathlon}, namely\n    jumping, discus-throwing, running, wrestling, and boxing (or\n    javelin-throwing).\n\nThe most famous achievement of Eratosthenes was his measurement of the\nearth. Archimedes quotes an earlier measurement which made the\ncircumference of the earth 300,000 stades. Eratosthenes improved upon\nthis. He observed that at the summer solstice at Syene, at noon, the sun\ncast no shadow, while at the same moment the upright gnomon at\nAlexandria cast a shadow corresponding to an angle between the gnomon\nand the sun's rays of 1/50th of four right angles. The distance between\nSyene and Alexandria being known to be 5,000 stades, this gave for the\ncircumference of the earth 250,000 stades, which Eratosthenes seems\nlater, for some reason, to have changed to 252,000 stades. On the most\nprobable assumption as to the length of the stade used, the 252,000\nstades give about 7,850 miles, only 50 miles less than the true polar\ndiameter.\n\nIn the work _On the Measurement of the Earth_ Eratosthenes is said to\nhave discussed other astronomical matters, the distance of the tropic\nand polar circles, the sizes and distances of the sun and moon, total\nand partial eclipses, &c. Besides other works on astronomy and\nchronology, Eratosthenes wrote a _Geographica_ in three books, in which\nhe first gave a history of geography up to date and then passed on to\nmathematical geography, the spherical shape of the earth, &c., &c.\n\nApollonius of Perga was with justice called by his contemporaries the\n'Great Geometer', on the strength of his great treatise, the _Conics_.\nHe is mentioned as a famous astronomer of the reign of Ptolemy Euergetes\n(247-222 B. C.); and he dedicated the fourth and later Books of the\n_Conics_ to King Attalus I of Pergamum (241-197 B. C.).\n\nThe _Conics_, a colossal work, originally in eight Books, survives as to\nthe first four Books in Greek and as to three more in Arabic, the eighth\nbeing lost. From Apollonius's prefaces we can judge of the relation of\nhis work to Euclid's _Conics_, the content of which answered to the\nfirst three Books of Apollonius. Although Euclid knew that an ellipse\ncould be otherwise produced, e. g. as an oblique section of a right\ncylinder, there is no doubt that he produced all three conics from right\ncones like his predecessors. Apollonius, however, obtains them in the\nmost general way by cutting any oblique cone, and his original axes of\nreference, a diameter and the tangent at its extremity, are in general\noblique; the fundamental properties are found with reference to these\naxes by 'application of areas', the three varieties of which,\n_application_ (\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03b7 {parabol\u00ea}), application with an _excess_\n(\u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b2\u03bf\u03bb\u03b7 {hyperbol\u00ea}) and application with a _deficiency_ (\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c8\u03b9\u03c2\n{elleipsis}), give the properties of the three curves respectively and\naccount for the names _parabola_, _hyperbola_, and _ellipse_, by which\nApollonius called them for the first time. The principal axes only\nappear, as a particular case, after it has been shown that the curves\nhave a like property when referred to any other diameter and the tangent\nat its extremity, instead of those arising out of the original\nconstruction. The first four Books constitute what Apollonius calls an\nelementary introduction; the remaining Books are specialized\ninvestigations, the most important being Book V (on normals) and Book\nVII (mainly on conjugate diameters). Normals are treated, not in\nconnexion with tangents, but as _minimum_ or _maximum_ straight lines\ndrawn to the curves from different points or classes of points.\nApollonius discusses such questions as the number of normals that can be\ndrawn from one point (according to its position) and the construction of\nall such normals. Certain propositions of great difficulty enable us to\ndeduce quite easily the Cartesian equations to the _evolutes_ of the\nthree conics.\n\nSeveral other works of Apollonius are described by Pappus as forming\npart of the 'Treasury of Analysis'. All are lost except the _Sectio\nRationis_ in two Books, which survives in Arabic and was published in a\nLatin translation by Halley in 1706. It deals with all possible cases of\nthe general problem 'given two straight lines either parallel or\nintersecting, and a fixed point on each, to draw through any given point\na straight line which shall cut off intercepts from the two lines\n(measured from the fixed points) bearing a given ratio to one another'.\nThe lost treatise _Sectio Spatii_ dealt similarly with the like problem\nin which the intercepts cut off have to contain a given rectangle.\n\nThe other treatises included in Pappus's account are (1) On _Determinate\nSection_; (2) _Contacts_ or _Tangencies_, Book II of which is entirely\ndevoted to the problem of drawing a circle to touch three given circles\n(Apollonius's solution can, with the aid of Pappus's auxiliary\npropositions, be satisfactorily restored); (3) _Plane Loci_, i. e. loci\nwhich are straight lines or circles; (4) \u039d\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 {Neuseis},\n_Inclinationes_ (the general problem called a \u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {neusis} being to\ninsert between two lines, straight or curved, a straight line of given\nlength _verging_ to a given point, i. e. so that, if produced, it passes\nthrough the point, Apollonius restricted himself to cases which could be\nsolved by 'plane' methods, i. e. by the straight line and circle only).\n\nApollonius is also said to have written (5) a _Comparison of the\ndodecahedron with the icosahedron_ (inscribed in the same sphere), in\nwhich he proved that their surfaces are in the same ratio as their\nvolumes; (6) _On the cochlias_ or cylindrical helix; (7) a 'General\nTreatise', which apparently dealt with the fundamental assumptions, &c.,\nof elementary geometry; (8) a work on _unordered irrationals_, i. e.\nirrationals of more complicated form than those of Eucl. Book X; (9) _On\nthe burning-mirror_, dealing with spherical mirrors and probably with\nmirrors of parabolic section also; (10) \u03c9\u03ba\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd {\u00f4kytokion} ('quick\ndelivery'). In the last-named work Apollonius found an approximation to\n\u03c0 {p} closer than that in Archimedes's _Measurement of a Circle_; and\npossibly the book also contained Apollonius's exposition of his notation\nfor large numbers according to 'tetrads' (successive powers of the\nmyriad).\n\nIn astronomy Apollonius is said to have made special researches\nregarding the moon, and to have been called \u03b5 {e} (Epsilon) because the\nform of that letter is associated with the moon. He was also a master of\nthe theory of epicycles and eccentrics.\n\nWith Archimedes and Apollonius Greek geometry reached its culminating\npoint; indeed, without some more elastic notation and machinery such as\nalgebra provides, geometry was practically at the end of its resources.\nFor some time, however, there were capable geometers who kept up the\ntradition, filling in details, devising alternative solutions of\nproblems, or discovering new curves for use or investigation.\n\nNicomedes, probably intermediate in date between Eratosthenes and\nApollonius, was the inventor of the _conchoid_ or _cochloid_, of which,\naccording to Pappus, there were three varieties. Diocles (about the end\nof the second century B. C.) is known as the discoverer of the _cissoid_\nwhich was used for duplicating the cube. He also wrote a book \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\n\u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri pyrei\u00f4n}, _On burning-mirrors_, which probably discussed,\namong other forms of mirror, surfaces of parabolic or elliptic section,\nand used the focal properties of the two conics; it was in this work\nthat Diocles gave an independent and clever solution (by means of an\nellipse and a rectangular hyperbola) of Archimedes's problem of cutting\na sphere into two segments in a given ratio. Dionysodorus gave a\nsolution by means of conics of the auxiliary cubic equation to which\nArchimedes reduced this problem; he also found the solid content of a\n_tore_ or anchor-ring.\n\nPerseus is known as the discoverer and investigator of the _spiric\nsections_, i. e. certain sections of the \u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1 {speira}, one variety of\nwhich is the _tore_. The _spire_ is generated by the revolution of a\ncircle about a straight line in its plane, which straight line may\neither be external to the circle (in which case the figure produced is\nthe tore), or may cut or touch the circle.\n\nZenodorus was the author of a treatise on _Isometric figures_, the\nproblem in which was to compare the content of different figures, plane\nor solid, having equal contours or surfaces respectively.\n\nHypsicles (second half of second century B. C.) wrote what became known\nas 'Book XIV' of the _Elements_ containing supplementary propositions on\nthe regular solids (partly drawn from Aristaeus and Apollonius); he\nseems also to have written on polygonal numbers. A mediocre astronomical\nwork (\u0391\u03bd\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 {Anaphorikos}) attributed to him is the first Greek\nbook in which we find the division of the zodiac circle into 360 parts\nor degrees.\n\nPosidonius the Stoic (about 135-51 B. C.) wrote on geography and\nastronomy under the titles _On the Ocean_ and \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c9\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd {peri\nmete\u00f4r\u00f4n}. He made a new but faulty calculation of the circumference of\nthe earth (240,000 stades). _Per contra_, in a separate tract on the\nsize of the sun (in refutation of the Epicurean view that it is as big\nas it _looks_), he made assumptions (partly guesswork) which give for\nthe diameter of the sun a figure of 3,000,000 stades (39-1/4 times the\ndiameter of the earth), a result much nearer the truth than those\nobtained by Aristarchus, Hipparchus, and Ptolemy. In elementary geometry\nPosidonius gave certain definitions (notably of parallels, based on the\nidea of equidistance).\n\nGeminus of Rhodes, a pupil of Posidonius, wrote (about 70 B. C.) an\nencyclopaedic work on the classification and content of mathematics,\nincluding the history of each subject, from which Proclus and others\nhave preserved notable extracts. An-Nair\u012bz\u012b (an Arabian commentator on\nEuclid) reproduces an attempt by one 'Aganis', who appears to be\nGeminus, to prove the parallel-postulate.\n\nBut from this time onwards the study of higher geometry (except\nsphaeric) seems to have languished, until that admirable mathematician,\nPappus, arose (towards the end of the third century A. D.) to revive\ninterest in the subject. From the way in which, in his great\n_Collection_, Pappus thinks it necessary to describe in detail the\ncontents of the classical works belonging to the 'Treasury of Analysis'\nwe gather that by his time many of them had been lost or forgotten, and\nthat he aimed at nothing less than re-establishing geometry at its\nformer level. No one could have been better qualified for the task.\nPresumably such interest as Pappus was able to arouse soon flickered\nout; but his _Collection_ remains, after the original works of the great\nmathematicians, the most comprehensive and valuable of all our sources,\nbeing a handbook or guide to Greek geometry and covering practically the\nwhole field. Among the original things in Pappus's _Collection_ is an\nenunciation which amounts to an anticipation of what is known as\nGuldin's Theorem.\n\nIt remains to speak of three subjects, trigonometry (represented by\nHipparchus, Menelaus, and Ptolemy), mensuration (in Heron of\nAlexandria), and algebra (Diophantus).\n\nAlthough, in a sense, the beginnings of trigonometry go back to\nArchimedes (_Measurement of a Circle_), Hipparchus was the first person\nwho can be proved to have used trigonometry systematically. Hipparchus,\nthe greatest astronomer of antiquity, whose observations were made\nbetween 161 and 126 B. C., discovered the precession of the equinoxes,\ncalculated the mean lunar month at 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 2-1/2\nseconds (which differs by less than a second from the present accepted\nfigure!), made more correct estimates of the sizes and distances of the\nsun and moon, introduced great improvements in the instruments used for\nobservations, and compiled a catalogue of some 850 stars; he seems to\nhave been the first to state the position of these stars in terms of\nlatitude and longitude (in relation to the ecliptic). He wrote a\ntreatise in twelve Books on Chords in a Circle, equivalent to a table of\ntrigonometrical sines. For calculating arcs in astronomy from other arcs\ngiven by means of tables he used propositions in spherical trigonometry.\n\nThe _Sphaerica_ of Theodosius of Bithynia (written, say, 20 B. C.)\ncontains no trigonometry. It is otherwise with the _Sphaerica_ of\nMenelaus (fl. A. D. 100) extant in Arabic; Book I of this work contains\npropositions about spherical triangles corresponding to the main\npropositions of Euclid about plane triangles (e.g. congruence theorems\nand the proposition that in a spherical triangle the three angles are\ntogether greater than two right angles), while Book III contains genuine\nspherical trigonometry, consisting of 'Menelaus's Theorem' with\nreference to the sphere and deductions therefrom.\n\nPtolemy's great work, the _Syntaxis_, written about A. D. 150 and\noriginally called \u039c\u03b1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03be\u03b9\u03c2 {Math\u00eamatik\u00ea syntaxis}, came to be\nknown as \u039c\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03be\u03b9\u03c2 {Megal\u00ea syntaxis}; the Arabs made up from the\nsuperlative \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 {megistos} the word al-Majisti which became\n_Almagest_.\n\nBook I, containing the necessary preliminaries to the study of the\nPtolemaic system, gives a Table of Chords in a circle subtended by\nangles at the centre of \u00bd\u00b0 increasing by half-degrees to 180\u00b0. The\ncircle is divided into 360 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9 {moirai}, parts or degrees, and the\ndiameter into 120 parts (\u03c4\u03bc\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 {tm\u00eamata}); the chords are given in\nterms of the latter with sexagesimal fractions (e. g. the chord\nsubtended by an angle of 120\u00b0 is 103^{p} 53\u2032 23\u2033). The Table of Chords\nis equivalent to a table of the _sines_ of the halves of the angles in\nthe table, for, if (crd. 2 \u03b1 {a}) represents the chord subtended by an\nangle of 2 \u03b1 {a} (crd. 2 \u03b1 {a})/120 = sin \u03b1 {a}. Ptolemy first gives the\nminimum number of geometrical propositions required for the calculation\nof the chords. The first of these finds (crd. 36\u00b0) and (crd. 72\u00b0) from\nthe geometry of the inscribed pentagon and decagon; the second\n('Ptolemy's Theorem' about a quadrilateral in a circle) is equivalent to\nthe formula for sin (\u03b8-\u03c6) {th-ph}, the third to that for sin \u00bd \u03b8 {th}.\nFrom (crd. 72\u00b0) and (crd. 60\u00b0) Ptolemy, by using these propositions\nsuccessively, deduces (crd. 1\u00bd\u00b0) and (crd. \u00be\u00b0), from which he obtains\n(crd. 1\u00b0) by a clever interpolation. To complete the table he only needs\nhis fourth proposition, which is equivalent to the formula for cos (\u03b8+\u03c6)\n{th+ph}.\n\nPtolemy wrote other minor astronomical works, most of which survive in\nGreek or Arabic, an _Optics_ in five Books (four Books almost complete\nwere translated into Latin in the twelfth century), and an attempted\nproof of the parallel-postulate which is reproduced by Proclus.\n\nHeron of Alexandria (date uncertain; he may have lived as late as the\nthird century A. D.) was an almost encyclopaedic writer on mathematical\nand physical subjects. He aimed at practical utility rather than\ntheoretical completeness; hence, apart from the interesting collection\nof _Definitions_ which has come down under his name, and his commentary\non Euclid which is represented only by extracts in Proclus and\nan-Nair\u012bz\u012b, his geometry is mostly mensuration in the shape of numerical\nexamples worked out. As these could be indefinitely multiplied, there\nwas a temptation to add to them and to use Heron's name. However much of\nthe separate works edited by Hultsch (the _Geometrica_, _Geodaesia_,\n_Stereometrica_, _Mensurae_, _Liber ge\u00ebponicus_) is genuine, we must now\nregard as more authoritative the genuine _Metrica_ discovered at\nConstantinople in 1896 and edited by H. Sch\u00f6ne in 1903 (Teubner). Book I\non the measurement of areas is specially interesting for (1) its\nstatement of the formula used by Heron for finding approximations to\nsurds, (2) the elegant geometrical proof of the formula for the area of\na triangle \u0394 {D} = \u221a{_s (s-a) (s-b) (s-c)}, a formula now known to be\ndue to Archimedes, (3) an allusion to limits to the value of \u03c0 {p} found\nby Archimedes and more exact than the 3-1/7 and 3-10/71 obtained in the\n_Measurement of a Circle_.\n\nBook I of the _Metrica_ calculates the areas of triangles,\nquadrilaterals, the regular polygons up to the dodecagon (the areas even\nof the heptagon, enneagon, and hendecagon are approximately evaluated),\nthe circle and a segment of it, the ellipse, a parabolic segment, and\nthe surfaces of a cylinder, a right cone, a sphere and a segment\nthereof. Book II deals with the measurement of solids, the cylinder,\nprisms, pyramids and cones and frusta thereof, the sphere and a segment\nof it, the anchor-ring or tore, the five regular solids, and finally the\ntwo special solids of Archimedes's _Method_; full use is made of all\nArchimedes's results. Book III is on the division of figures. The plane\nportion is much on the lines of Euclid's _Divisions_ (of figures). The\nsolids divided in given ratios are the sphere, the pyramid, the cone and\na frustum thereof. Incidentally Heron shows how he obtained an\napproximation to the cube root of a non-cube number (100). Quadratic\nequations are solved by Heron by a regular rule not unlike our method,\nand the _Geometrica_ contains two interesting indeterminate problems.\n\nHeron also wrote _Pneumatica_ (where the reader will find such things as\nsiphons, Heron's Fountain, penny-in-the-slot machines, a fire-engine, a\nwater-organ, and many arrangements employing the force of steam),\n_Automaton-making_, _Belopoe\u00efca_ (on engines of war), _Catoptrica_, and\n_Mechanics_. The _Mechanics_ has been edited from the Arabic; it is\n(except for considerable fragments) lost in Greek. It deals with the\npuzzle of 'Aristotle's Wheel', the parallelogram of velocities,\ndefinitions of, and problems on, the centre of gravity, the distribution\nof weights between several supports, the five mechanical powers,\nmechanics in daily life (queries and answers). Pappus covers much the\nsame ground in Book VIII of his _Collection_.\n\nWe come, lastly, to Algebra. Problems involving simple equations are\nfound in the Papyrus Rhind, in the _Epanthema_ of Thymaridas already\nreferred to, and in the arithmetical epigrams in the Greek Anthology\n(Plato alludes to this class of problem in the _Laws_, 819 B, C); the\nAnthology even includes two cases of indeterminate equations of the\nfirst degree. The Pythagoreans gave general solutions in rational\nnumbers of the equations _x\u00b2+y\u00b2=z\u00b2_ and _2x\u00b2-y\u00b2=\u00b11_, which are\nindeterminate equations of the second degree.\n\nThe first to make systematic use of symbols in algebraical work was\nDiophantus of Alexandria (fl. about A. D. 250). He used (1) a sign for\nthe unknown quantity, which he calls \u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 {arithmos}, and compendia\nfor its powers up to the sixth; (2) a sign ([Transcriber's Note:\nSymbol]) with the effect of our _minus_. The latter sign probably\nrepresents \u039b\u0399 {LI}, an abbreviation for the root of the word \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\n{leipein} (to be wanting); the sign for \u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b8\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 {arithmos}\n([Transcriber's Note: Symbol]) is most likely an abbreviation for the\nletters \u03b1\u03c1 {ar}; the compendia for the powers of the unknown are \u0394^\u03a5\n{D^Y} for \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03c2 {dynamis}, the square, \u039a^\u03a5 {K^Y} for \u03ba\u03c5\u03b2\u03bf\u03c2 {kybos},\nthe cube, and so on. Diophantus shows that he solved quadratic equations\nby rule, like Heron. His _Arithmetica_, of which six books only (out of\nthirteen) survive, contains a certain number of problems leading to\nsimple equations, but is mostly devoted to indeterminate or\nsemi-determinate analysis, mainly of the second degree. The collection\nis extraordinarily varied, and the devices resorted to are highly\ningenious. The problems solved are such as the following (fractional as\nwell as integral solutions being admitted): 'Given a number, to find\nthree others such that the sum of the three, or of any pair of them,\ntogether with the given number is a square', 'To find four numbers such\nthat the square of the sum _plus_ or _minus_ any one of the numbers is a\nsquare', 'To find three numbers such that the product of any two _plus_\nor _minus_ the sum of the three is a square'. Diophantus assumes as\nknown certain theorems about numbers which are the sums of two and three\nsquares respectively, and other propositions in the Theory of Numbers.\nHe also wrote a book _On Polygonal Numbers_ of which only a fragment\nsurvives.\n\nWith Pappus and Diophantus the list of original writers on mathematics\ncomes to an end. After them came the commentators whose names only can\nbe mentioned here. Theon of Alexandria, the editor of Euclid, lived\ntowards the end of the fourth century A. D. To the fifth and sixth\ncenturies belong Proclus, Simplicius, and Eutocius, to whom we can never\nbe grateful enough for the precious fragments which they have preserved\nfrom works now lost, and particularly the _History of Geometry_ and the\n_History of Astronomy_ by Aristotle's pupil Eudemus.\n\nSuch is the story of Greek mathematical science. If anything could\nenhance the marvel of it, it would be the consideration of the shortness\nof the time (about 350 years) within which the Greeks, starting from the\nvery beginning, brought geometry to the point of performing operations\nequivalent to the integral calculus and, in the realm of astronomy,\nactually anticipated Copernicus.\n\nT. L. HEATH.\n\n\n\n\nNATURAL SCIENCE\n\n_Aristotle_\n\n\nThere is a little essay of Goethe's called, simply, _Die Natur_. It\ncomes among those tracts on Natural Science in which the poet and\nphilosopher turned his restless mind to problems of light and colour, of\nleaf and flower, of bony skull and kindred vertebra; and it sounds like\na prose-poem, a noble paean, eulogizing the love and glorifying the\nstudy of Nature. Some twenty-five hundred years before, Anaximander had\nwritten a book with the same title, _Concerning Nature_, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2\n{peri physe\u00f4s}: but its subject was not the same. It was a variant of\nthe old traditional cosmogonies. It told of how in the beginning the\nearth was without form and void. It sought to trace all things back to\nthe Infinite, \u03c4\u03bf \u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd {to apeiron}--to That which knows no bounds of\nspace or time but is before all worlds, and to whose bosom again all\nthings, all worlds, return. For Goethe Nature meant the beauty, the all\nbut sensuous beauty of the world; for the older philosopher it was the\nmystery of the Creative Spirit.\n\nThan Nature, in Goethe's sense, no theme is more familiar to us, for\nwhom many a poet tells the story and many a lesser poet echoes the\nconceit; but if there be anywhere in Greek such overt praise and worship\nof Nature's beauty, I cannot call it to mind. Yet in Latin the _divini\ngloria ruris_ is praised and _Natura daedala rerum_ worshipped, as we\nare wont to praise and worship them, for their own sweet sakes. It is\none of the ways, one of the simpler ways, in which the Roman world seems\nnearer to us than the Greek: and not only seems, but is so. For compared\nwith the great early civilizations, Rome is modern and of the West;\nwhile, draw her close as we may to our hearts, Greece brings along with\nher a breath of the East and a whisper of remote antiquity. A Tuscan\ngentleman of to-day, like a Roman gentleman of yesterday, is at heart a\nhusbandman, like Cato; he is _ruris amator_, like Horace; he gets him to\nhis little farm or vineyard (_O rus, quando te aspiciam!_), like Atticus\nor the younger Pliny. As Bacon praised his garden, so does Pliny praise\nhis farm, with its cornfields and meadowland, vineyard and woodland,\norchard and pasture, bee-hives and flowers. That God made the country\nand man made the town was (long before Cowper) a saying of Varro's; but\nin Greek I can think of no such apophthegm.\n\nAs Schiller puts it, the Greeks looked on Nature with their minds more\nthan with their hearts, nor ever clung to her with outspoken admiration\nand affection. And Humboldt, asserting (as I would do) that the\nportrayal of nature, for her own sake and in all her manifold diversity,\nwas foreign to the Greek idea, declares that the landscape is always the\nmere background of their picture, while their foreground is filled with\nthe affairs and actions and thoughts of men. But all the while, as in\nsome old Italian picture--of Domenichino or Albani or Leonardo\nhimself--the subordinated background is delicately traced and\nexquisitely beautiful; and sometimes we come to value it in the end more\nthan all the rest of the composition.\n\nDeep down in the love of Nature, whether it be of the sensual or\nintellectual kind, and in the art of observation which is its outcome\nand first expression, lie the roots of all our Natural Science. All the\nworld over these are the heritage of all men, though the inheritance be\nricher or poorer here and there: they are shown forth in the lore and\nwisdom of hunter and fisherman, of shepherd and husbandman, of artist\nand poet. The natural history of the ancients is not enshrined in\nAristotle and Pliny. It pervades the vast literature of classical\nantiquity. For all we may say of the reticence with which, the Greeks\nproclaim it, it greets us nobly in Homer, it sings to us in Anacreon,\nSicilian shepherds tune their pipes to it in Theocritus: and anon in\nVirgil we dream of it to the coo of doves and the sound of bees'\nindustrious murmur.\n\nNot only from such great names as these do we reach the letter and the\nspirit of ancient Natural History. We must go a-wandering into the\nby-ways of literature. We must eke out the scientific treatises of\nAristotle and Pliny by help of the fragments which remain of the works\nof such naturalists as Speusippus or Alexander the Myndian; add to the\nfamiliar stories of Herodotus the Indian tales of Ctesias and\nMegasthenes; sit with Athenaeus and his friends at the supper table,\ngleaning from cook and epicure, listening to the merry idle troop of\nconvivial gentlemen capping verses and spinning yarns; read Xenophon's\ntreatise on Hunting, study the didactic poems, the Cynegetica and\nHalieutica, of Oppian and of Ovid. And then again we may hark back to\nthe greater world of letters, wherein poet and scholar, from petty\nfabulist to the great dramatists, from Homer's majesty to Lucian's wit,\nshare in the love of Nature and enliven the delicate background of their\nstory with allusions to beast and bird.\n\nSuch allusions, refined at first by art and hallowed at last by familiar\nmemory, lie treasured in men's hearts and enshrine themselves in our\nnoblest literature. Take, of a thousand crowding instances, that great\npassage in the _Iliad_ where the Greek host, disembarking on the plains\nof the Scamander, is likened to a migrating flock of cranes or geese or\nlong-necked swans, as they fly proudly over the Asian meadows and alight\nscreaming by Cayster's stream--and Virgil echoes more than once the\nfamiliar lines. The crane was a well-known bird. Its lofty flight brings\nit, again in Homer, to the very gates of heaven. Hesiod and Pindar speak\nof its far-off cry, heard from above the clouds: and that it 'observed\nthe time of its coming', 'intelligent of seasons', was a proverb old in\nHesiod's day--when the crane signalled the approach of winter, and when\nit bade the husbandman make ready to plough. It follows the plough, in\nTheocritus, as persistently as the wolf the kid and the peasant-lad his\nsweetheart. The discipline of the migrating cranes, the serried wedge of\ntheir ranks in flight, the good order of the resting flock, are often,\nand often fancifully, described. Aristotle records how they have an\nappointed leader, who keeps watch by night and in flight keeps calling\nto the laggards; and all this old story Euripides, the most naturalistic\nof the great tragedians, puts into verse:\n\n    The ordered host of Libyan birds avoids\n    The wintry storm, obedient to the call\n    Of their old leader, piping to his flock.\n\nLastly, Milton gathers up the spirit and the letter of these and many\nanother ancient allusion to the migrating cranes:\n\n    Part loosely wing the region; part more wise,\n    In common ranged in figure, wedge their way\n    Intelligent of seasons, and set forth\n    Their aery caravan, high over seas\n    Flying, and over lands; with mutual wing\n    Easing their flight; so steers the prudent crane.\n\nBut the natural history of the poets is a story without an end, and in\nour estimation, however brief it be, of ancient knowledge, there are\nother matters to be considered, and other points of view where we must\ntake our stand.\n\nWhen we consider the science of the Greeks, and come quickly to love it\nand slowly to see how great it was, we likewise see that it was\nrestricted as compared with our own, curiously partial or particular in\nits limitations. The practical and 'useful' sciences of chemistry,\nmechanics, and engineering, which in our modern world crowd the others\nto the wall, are absent altogether, or so concealed that we forget and\npass them by. Mathematics is enthroned high over all, as it is meet she\nshould be; and of uncontested right she occupies her throne century\nafter century, from Pythagoras to Proclus, from the scattered schools of\nearly Hellenic civilization to the rise and fall of the great\nAlexandrine University. Near beside her sits, from of old, the\ndaughter-science of Astronomy; and these twain were worshipped by the\ngreatest scientific intellects of the Greeks. But though we do not hear\nof them nor read of them, we must not suppose for a moment that the\npractical or technical sciences were lacking in so rich and complex a\ncivilization. China, that most glorious of all living monuments of\nAntiquity, tells us nothing of her own chemistry, but we know that it is\nthere. Peep into a Chinese town, walk through its narrow streets,\nthronged but quiet, wherein there is neither rumbling of coaches nor\nrattling of wheels, and you shall see the nearest thing on earth to what\nwe hear of Sybaris. To the production of those glowing silks and\ndelicate porcelains and fine metal-work has gone a vast store of\nchemical knowledge, traditional and empirical. So was it, precisely, in\nancient Greece; and Plato knew that it was so--that the dyer, the\nperfumer, and the apothecary had subtle arts, a subtle science of their\nown, a science not to be belittled nor despised. We may pass here and\nthere by diligent search from conjecture to assurance; analyse a\npigment, an alloy or a slag; discover from an older record than the\nGreeks', the chemical prescription wherewith an Egyptian princess\ndarkened her eyes, or study the pictured hearth, bellows, oven,\ncrucibles with which the followers of Tubal-Cain smelted their ore. Once\nin a way, but seldom, do we meet with ancient chemistry even in Greek\nliterature. There is a curious passage (its text is faulty and the\ntranslation hard) in the story of the Argonauts, where Medea concocts a\nmagic brew. She put divers herbs in it, herbs yielding coloured juices\nsuch as safflower and alkanet, and soapwort and fleawort to give\nconsistency or 'body' to the lye; she put in alum and blue vitriol (or\nsulphate of copper), and she put in blood. The magic brew was no more\nand no less than a dye, a red or purple dye, and a prodigious deal of\nchemistry had gone to the making of it. For the copper was there to\nproduce a 'lake' or copper-salt of the vegetable alkaloids, which\ncopper-lakes are among the most brilliant and most permanent of\ncolouring matters; the alum was there as a 'mordant'; and even the blood\nwas doubtless there incorporated for better reasons than superstitious\nones, in all probability for the purpose of clarifying (by means of its\ncoagulating albumen) the seething and turbid brew.\n\nThe 'Orphic' version of the story, in which this passage occurs, is\nprobably an Alexandrine compilation, and whether the ingredients of the\nbrew had been part of the ancient legend or were merely suggested to the\npoet by the knowledge of his own day we cannot tell; in either case the\nprescription is old enough, and is at least pre-Byzantine by a few\ncenturies. Such as it is, it does not stand alone. Other fragments of\nancient chemistry, more or less akin to it, have been gathered together;\nin Galen's book on _The making of Simples_, in Pliny, in Paulus\nAegineta, and for that matter in certain Egyptian papyri (especially a\ncertain very famous one, still extant, of which Clement of Alexandria\nspeaks as a secret or 'hermetic' book), we can trace the broken and\nscattered stones of a great edifice of ancient chemistry.\n\nNevertheless, all this weight of chemical learning figures scantily in\nliterature, and is conspicuously absent from our conception of the\nnatural genius of the Greeks. We have no reason to suppose that ancient\nchemistry, or any part of it, was ever peculiarly Greek, or that this\nscience was the especial property of any nation whatsoever; moreover it\nwas a trade, or a bundle of trades, whose trade-secrets were too\nprecious to be revealed, and so constituted not a science but a\nmystery. So has it always been with chemistry, the most cosmopolitan of\nsciences, the most secret of arts. Quietly and stealthily it crept\nthrough the world; the tinker brought it with his solder and his flux;\nthe African tribes who were the first workers in iron passed it on to\nthe great metallurgists who forged Damascan and Toledan steel.\n\nThis 'trade' of Chemistry was never a science for a Gentleman, as\nphilosophy and mathematics were; and Plato, greatest of philosophers,\nwas one of the greatest of gentlemen. Long, long afterwards, Oxford said\nthe same thing to Robert Boyle--that Chemistry was no proper avocation\nfor a gentleman; but he thought otherwise, and the 'brother of the Earl\nof Cork' became the Father of scientific Chemistry.\n\nNow I take it that in regard to biology Aristotle did much the same\nthing as Boyle, breaking through a similar tradition; and herein one of\nthe greatest of his great services is to be found. There was a wealth of\nnatural history before his time; but it belonged to the farmer, the\nhuntsman, and the fisherman--with something over (doubtless) for the\nschoolboy, the idler, and the poet. But Aristotle made it a science, and\nwon a place for it in Philosophy. He did for it just what Pythagoras had\ndone (as Proclus tells us) for mathematics in an earlier age, when he\ndiscerned the philosophy underlying the old empirical art of 'geometry',\nand made it the basis of 'a liberal education'.[5]\n\n    [5] \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03a0\u03c5\u03b8\u03b1\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c7\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\n    \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd. {epi de toutois Pythagoras t\u00ean peri\n    aut\u00ean philosophian eis sch\u00eama paideias eleutherou metest\u00easen.}\n    _Procli Comment. Euclidis lib. I, Prolegom. II_ (p. 65, ed.\n    Friedlein).\n\nThe Mediterranean fisherman, like the Chinese fisherman or the Japanese,\nhas still, and always has had, a wide knowledge of all that pertains to\nand accompanies his craft. Our Scottish fishermen have a limited\nvocabulary, which scarce extends beyond the names of the few common\nfishes with which the market is supplied. But at Marseilles or Genoa or\nin the Levant they have names for many hundreds of species, of fish and\nshell-fish and cuttle-fish and worms and corallines, and all manner of\nswimming and creeping things; they know a vast deal about the habits of\ntheir lives, far more, sometimes, than do we 'scientific men'; they are\nnaturalists by tradition and by trade. Neither, by the way, must we\nforget the ancient medical and anatomical learning of the great\nAesculapian guild, nor the still more recondite knowledge possessed by\nvarious priesthoods (again like their brethren of to-day in China and\nJapan) of the several creatures, sacred fish, pigeons, guinea-fowl,\nsnakes, cuttlefish, and what not, which time out of mind they had\nreared, tended, and venerated.\n\nOf what new facts Aristotle actually discovered it is impossible to be\nsure. Could it ever be proved that he discovered many, or could it even\nbe shown that of his own hand he discovered nothing at all, it would\naffect but little our estimate of his greatness and our admiration of\nhis learning. He was the first of Greek philosophers and gentlemen to\nsee that all these things were good to know and worthy to be told. This\nwas his great discovery.\n\nI have sought elsewhere to show that Aristotle spent two years, the\nhappiest years perhaps of all his life--a long honeymoon--by the\nsea-side in the island of Mytilene, after he had married the little\nPrincess, and before he began the hard work of his life: before he\ntaught Alexander in Macedon, and long before he spoke _urbi et orbi_ in\nthe Lyceum. Here it was that he learned the great bulk of his natural\nhistory, in which, wide and general as it is, the things of the sea have\nfrom first to last a notable predominance.\n\nI have tried to illustrate elsewhere (as many another writer has done)\nsomething of the variety and the depth of Aristotle's knowledge of\nanimals--choosing an example here and there, but only drawing a little\nwater from an inexhaustible well.\n\nA famous case is that of the 'molluscs', where either Aristotle's\nknowledge was exceptionally minute, or where it has come down to us with\nunusual completeness.\n\nThese are the cuttle fish, which have now surrendered their Aristotelian\nname of 'molluscs' to that greater group which is seen to include them,\ntogether with the shell-fish or 'ostracoderma' of Aristotle. These\ncuttle-fishes are creatures that we seldom see, but in the Mediterranean\nthey are an article of food and many kinds are known to the fishermen.\nAll or wellnigh all of these many kinds were known to Aristotle. He\ndescribed their form and their anatomy, their habits, their development,\nall with such faithful accuracy that what we can add to-day seems of\nsecondary importance. He begins with a methodical description of the\ngeneral form, tells us of the body and fins, of the eight arms with\ntheir rows of suckers, of the abnormal position of the head. He points\nout the two long arms of Sepia and of the calamaries, and their absence\nin the octopus; and he tells us, what was only confirmed of late, that\nwith these two long arms the creature clings to the rock and sways about\nlike a ship at anchor. He describes the great eyes, the two big teeth\nforming the beak; and he dissects the whole structure of the gut, with\nits long gullet, its round crop, its stomach and the little coiled\ncoecal diverticulum: dissecting not only one but several species, and\nnoting differences that were not observed again till Cuvier re-dissected\nthem. He describes the funnel and its relation to the mantle-sac, and\nthe ink-bag, which he shows to be largest in Sepia of all others. And\nhere, by the way, he seems to make one of those apparent errors that, as\nit happens, turn out to be justified: for he tells us that in Octopus,\nunlike the rest, the funnel is on the upper side; the fact being that\nwhen the creature lies prone upon the ground, with all its arms\noutspread, the funnel-tube (instead of being flattened out beneath the\ncreature's prostrate body) is long enough to protrude upwards between\narms and head, and to appear on one side or other thereof, in a\nposition apparently the reverse of its natural one. He describes the\ncharacter of the cuttle-bone in Sepia, and of the horny pen which takes\nits place in the various calamaries, and notes the lack of any similar\nstructure in Octopus. He dissects in both sexes the reproductive organs,\nnoting without exception all their essential and complicated parts; and\nhe had figured these in his lost volume of anatomical diagrams. He\ndescribes the various kinds of eggs, and, with still more surprising\nknowledge, shows us the little embryo cuttle-fish, with its great\nyolk-sac attached, in apparent contrast to the chick's, to the little\ncreature's developing head.\n\nBut there is one other remarkable feature that he knew ages before it\nwas rediscovered, almost in our own time. In certain male cuttle-fishes,\nin the breeding season, one of the arms develops in a curious fashion\ninto a long coiled whip-lash, and in the act of breeding may then be\ntransferred to the mantle-cavity of the female. Cuvier himself knew\nnothing of the nature or the function of this separated arm, and indeed,\nif I am not mistaken, it was he who mistook it for a parasitic worm. But\nAristotle tells us of its use and its temporary development, and of its\nstructure in detail, and his description tallies closely with the\naccounts of the most recent writers.\n\nA scarcely less minute account follows of the 'Malacostraca' or\ncrustaceans, the lobsters and the crabs, the shrimps and the prawns, and\nothers of their kind, a chapter to which Cuvier devoted a celebrated\nessay. There be many kinds of crabs--the common kind, the big 'granny'\ncrabs, the little horsemen-crabs, that scamper over the sand and which\nare for the most part empty, that is to say, whose respiratory cavities\nare exceptionally large; and there are the freshwater crabs. There are\nthe little shrimps and the big hump-backed fellows, or prawns; there are\nthe 'crangons' or squillae; and the big lobsters and the crawfish or\n'langoustes', their spiny cousins. We read about their beady eyes, which\nturn every way; about their big rough antennae and the smaller,\nsmoother pair between; the great teeth, or mandibles; the carapace with\nits projecting rostrum, the jointed abdomen with the tail-fins at the\nend, and the little flaps below on which the female drops her spawn. In\nmore or less detail these things are severally described, and the many\nlimbs severally enumerated, in one kind after another. The descriptions\nof the lobster and the langouste are particularly minute, and the\ncomparison or contrast between the two is drawn with elaborate\nprecision. In the former, besides other differences between male and\nfemale, the female is said to have the 'first foot' (or leg) bifurcate,\nwhile in the male it is undivided. It seems a trifling matter, but it is\ntrue; it is so small a point that I searched long before at last I found\nmention made of it in a German monograph. The puzzling thing is that it\nis (as we should say) the last and not the first leg which is so\ndistinguished; but after all, it is only a convention of our own to\ncount the limbs from before backwards. To inspect a lobster's limbs, we\nlay it on its back (as Aristotle did), and see the legs overlapping,\neach hinder one above the one before; the hindmost is the first we see,\nand the one we must first lift up to inspect the others.\n\nAristotle's account of fishes is a prodigious history of habits, food,\nmigrations, modes of capture, times and ways of spawning, and anatomical\ndetails; but it is not here that we can elucidate or even illustrate\nthis astonishing Ichthyology. It is not always easy to understand--but\nthe obstacle lies often, I take it, in our own ignorance. The\nidentification of species is not always plain, for here as elsewhere\nAristotle did not reckon with a time or place where the familiar words\nof Greek should be unknown or their homely significance forgotten. Among\nthe great host of fish-names there are several referring, somehow or\nother, to the Grey Mullet, which puzzle both naturalist and\nlexicographer. A young officer told me the other day how he had watched\nan Arab fisherman emptying out his creel of Grey Mullet on some Syrian\nbeach, and the Arab gave four if not five names to as many different\nkinds, betwixt which my friend could see no difference whatsoever. Had\nmy friend been an ichthyologist he would doubtless have noticed that one\nhad eyelids and the others none; that one had little brushes on its\nlips, another a small but wide-open slit under the jaw, another a yellow\nspot on its gill-covers, and so on. The Mullets are a difficult group,\nbut Aristotle, like the Arab fisherman, evidently recognized their fine\ndistinctions and employed the appropriate names. Again, Aristotle speaks\nof a certain nest-building fish, the 'phycis', and regarding this Cuvier\nfell into error (where once upon a time I followed him). In Cuvier's\ntime there was but one nest-building fish known such as to suit,\napparently, the passage, namely the little black goby; but after\nCuvier's day the nest-building habits of the 'wrasses' became known to\nnaturalists, as they had doubtless been known ages before to the\nfishermen--and to Aristotle.\n\nLike almost every other little point on which we happen to touch, we\nmight make this one the starting-point (here comes in the delight and\nfascination of the interpreter's task!) for other stories.\n\nSpeusippus, Plato's successor in the Academy, was both philosopher and\nnaturalist, and we may take it, if we please, that his leaning towards\nbiology, and the biological trend which at this time became more and\nmore marked in Athenian philosophy, were not unconnected with the great\nimpulse which Aristotle had given. However this may be, Speusippus wrote\na book \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u1f49\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri Homoi\u00f4n} 'Concerning Resemblances'; and this,\nof which we only possess a few fragmentary sentences, must have been a\nvery curious and an interesting book. He mentions, among other similar\ncases, that our little fish _phycis_ has a close outward semblance to\nthe sea-perch; and this is enough to clinch the proof that Aristotle's\nnest-building fish was not a goby but a wrasse. The whole purport of\nSpeusippus's book seems to have been to discuss how, or why, with all\nNature's apparently infinite variety, certain animals have a singularly\nclose resemblance to certain others, though they be quite distinct in\nkind. It is a problem which perplexes us still, when we are astonished\nand even deluded by the likeness between a wasp and a hover-fly, a\nmerlin and a cuckoo. In certain extreme cases we call it 'mimicry', and\ninvoke hypotheses to account for this 'mimetic' resemblance; and those\nof us who reject these hypotheses must fain take refuge in others, as\nfar-reaching in their way. This at least we know, that Speusippus seized\nupon a real problem of biology, of lasting interest and even of\nfundamental importance.\n\nTo come back to Aristotle and his fishes, let us glance at one little\npoint more. The reproduction of the eel is an ancient puzzle, which has\nfound its full solution only in our own day. While the salmon, for\ninstance, comes up the river to breed and goes down again to the sea,\nthe eel goes down to the ocean to spawn, and the old eels come back no\nmore but perish in the great waters. The eel's egg develops into a\nlittle flattened, transparent fish, altogether different in outward\nappearance from an eel, which turns afterwards into a young eel or\n'elver'; and Professor Grassi, who had a big share in elucidating the\nwhole matter, tells us the curious fact that he found the Sicilian\nfishermen well acquainted with the little transparent larva (the\n_Leptocephalus_ of modern naturalists), that they knew well what it was,\nand that they had a name for it--_Casentula_. Now Aristotle, in a\npassage which I think has been much misunderstood (and which we must\nadmit to be in part erroneous), tells us that the eel develops from what\nhe calls \u03b3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 {g\u00eas entera}, a word which we translate, literally,\nthe 'guts of the earth', and which commentators interpret as\n'earthworms'! But in Sicilian Doric, \u03b3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 {g\u00eas entera} would at\nonce become \u03b3\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1 {gas entera}; and between 'Gasentera' and the\nmodern Sicilian 'Casentula' there is scarce a hairbreadth's difference.\nSo we may be permitted to suppose that here again Aristotle was\nsingularly and accurately informed; and that he knew by sight and name\nthe little larva of the eel, whose discovery and identification is one\nof the modest triumphs of recent investigation.\n\nAristotle's many pages on fishes are delightful reading. The anatomist\nmay read of such recondite matters as the _placenta vitellina_ of the\nsmooth dog-fish, whereby the viviparous embryo is nourished within the\nwomb, after a fashion analogous to that of mammalian embryology--a\nphenomenon brought to light anew by Johannes M\u00fcller, and which excited\nhim to enthusiastic admiration of Aristotle's minute and faithful\nanatomy. Again we may read of the periodic migration of the tunnies, of\nthe great net or 'madrague' in which they are captured, and of the\nwatchmen, the \u03b8\u03c5\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9 {thynnoskopoi}, the 'hooers' of our ancient\nCornish fishery, who give warning from tower or headland of the\napproaching shoal. The student may learn what manner of fish it was (the\ngreat Eagle-ray) with whose barbed fin-spine--most primitive of\nspear-heads--Ulysses was slain; and again, he may learn not a little\nabout that \u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03b7 {nark\u00ea}, or torpedo, to which Meno compared his master\nSocrates, in a somewhat ambiguous compliment.\n\nIn rambling fashion Aristotle has a deal to tell us about insects, and\nhe has left us a sort of treatise on the whole natural history of the\nbee. He knew the several inmates of the hive, though like others of his\nday (save, perhaps, only Xenophon), and like Shakespeare too, he took\nthe queen-bee for a king. He describes the building of the comb, the\nlaying of the eggs, the provision of the larvae with food. He discusses\nthe various qualities of honey and the flowers from which these are\ndrawn. He is learned in the diseases and the enemies of bees. He tells\nus many curious things about the economy of the hive and the arts of the\nbee-keeper, some of which things have a very modern and familiar look\nabout them: for instance, the use of a net or screen to keep out the\ndrones, a net so nicely contrived that these sturdy fellows are just\nkept out, while the leaner, slenderer workers are just let in. But it\nwould be a long, long story to tell of Aristotle's knowledge of the bee,\nand to compare it with what is, haply, the still deeper skill and\nlearning of that master of bee-craft, Virgil.\n\nThen, having perfect freedom to go whithersoever we chose and to follow\nthe bees across the boundless fields of ancient literature, we might\nread of the wild bees and of their honey out of a rock, and of the\nhive-bees too, in Homer; follow them to their first legendary home in\nCrete, where the infant Jupiter was fed on honey--as a baby's lips are\ntouched with it even unto this day; trace their association with\nProserpine and her mother, or their subtler connexion with Ephesian\nDiana; find in the poets, from Hesiod to the later Anthology, a hundred\nsweet references--to the bee-tree in the oak-wood, to the flowery hill\nHymettus. Perhaps, at last, we might even happen on the place where\nOrigen seems so strangely to foreshadow Shakespeare--speaking of the\nking of the bees with his retinue of courtiers (his officers of sorts),\nthe relays of workmen (the poor mechanic porters crowding in), the\npunishment of the idle (where some, like magistrates, correct at home),\nthe wars, the vanquished, and the plunder (which pillage they with merry\nmarch bring home To the tent-royal of their Emperor).\n\nGo back to Aristotle, and we may listen to him again while he talks of\nmany other kindred insects: of the humble-bee and its kind, of the\nmason-bee with its hard round nest of clay, of the robber-bees, and of\nthe various wasps and hornets; or (still more curiously and\nunexpectedly) of the hunter-wasp or 'ichneumon', and how it kills the\nspider, carries it home to its nest, and lays its eggs in its poor body,\nthat the little wasp-grubs may afterwards be fed. Or again of the great\nwasps which he calls Anthrenae, and how they chase the big flies, and\ncut off their heads, and fly away with the rest of the carcass--all\nagreeing to the very letter with what Henri Fabre tells us of a certain\nlarge wasp of Southern Europe, and how it captures the big 'taons' or\nhorse-flies: 'Pour donner le coup de gr\u00e2ce \u00e0 leurs Taons mal sacrifi\u00e9s,\net se d\u00e9battants encore entre les pattes du ravisseur, j'ai vu des\nBembex m\u00e2chonner la t\u00eate et le thorax des victimes.' Verily, there is\nnothing new under the sun.\n\nWith the metamorphoses of various insects Aristotle was well acquainted.\nHe knew how the house-fly passes its early stages in a dung-hill, and\nhow the grubs of the big horse-flies and Tabanids live in decayed wood;\nhow certain little flies or gnats are engendered (as he calls it) in the\nslime of vinegar. He relates with great care and accuracy the\nlife-history of the common gnat, from its aquatic larva, the little red\n'blood-worm' of our pools; he describes them wriggling about like tiny\nbits of red weed, in the water of some half-empty well; and he explains,\nfinally, the change by which they become stiff and motionless and hard,\nuntil a husk breaks away and the little gnat is seen sitting upon it;\nand by and by the sun's heat or a puff of wind starts it off, and away\nit flies.\n\nSome of these stories are indeed remarkable, for the events related are\nmore or less hidden and obscure; and so, with all this knowledge at\nhand, it is not a little strange that Aristotle has very little indeed\nto tell us about the far more obvious phenomena of the life-history of\nthe butterfly, and of the several kinds of butterflies and moths. He\ndoes tell us briefly that the butterfly comes from a caterpillar, which\nlives on cabbage-leaves and feeds voraciously, then turns into a\nchrysalis and eats no more, nor has it a mouth to eat withal; it is hard\nand, as it were, dead, but yet it moves and wriggles when you touch it,\nand after a while the husk bursts and out comes the butterfly. The\naccount is good enough, so far as it goes, but nevertheless Aristotle\nshows no affection for the butterfly, does not linger and dally over it,\ntells no stories about it. This is all of a piece with the rest of\nGreek literature, and poetry in particular, where allusions to the\nbutterfly are scanty and rare. I think the Greeks found something\nominous or uncanny, something not to be lightly spoken of, in that all\nbut disembodied spirit which we call a butterfly, and they called by the\nname of \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7 {psych\u00ea}, the Soul. They had a curious name (\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c5\u03b4\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2\n{nekydallos}) for the pupa. It sounds like a 'little corpse' (\u03bd\u03b5\u03ba\u03c5\u03c2\n{nekys}); and like a little corpse within its shroud or coffin the pupa\nsleeps in its cocoon. A late poet describes the butterfly 'coming back\nfrom the grave to the light of day'; and certain of the Fathers of the\nChurch, St. Basil in particular, point the moral accordingly, and draw a\ndoubtless time-honoured allegory of the Resurrection and the Life from\nthe grub which is not dead but sleepeth, and the butterfly which (as it\nwere) is raised in glory.\n\nOf one large moth, Aristotle gives us an account which has been a puzzle\nto many. This begins as a great grub or caterpillar, with (as it were)\nhorns; and, growing by easy stages, it spins at length a cocoon. There\nis a class of women who unwind and reel off the cocoons, and afterwards\nweave a fabric with the thread; and a certain woman of Cos is credited\nwith the invention of this fabric. This is, at first sight, a plain and\nstraightforward description of the silkworm; but we know that it was not\ntill long afterwards, nearly a thousand years after, in Justinian's\nreign, that the silkworm and the mulberry-tree which is its food were\nbrought out of the East into Byzantine Greece. We learn something of\nthis Coan silkworm from Pliny, who tells us that it lived on the ash and\noak and cypress tree; and from Clement of Alexandria and other of the\nFathers we glean a little more--for instance, that the larva was covered\nwith thick-set hairs, and that the cocoon was of a loose material\nsomething like a spider's web. All this agrees in every particular with\na certain large moth (_Lasiocampa otus_), which spins a rough cocoon not\nunlike that of our Emperor moth, and lives in south-eastern Europe,\nfeeding on the cypress and the oak. Many other silkworms besides the\ntrue or common one are still employed, worms which yield the Tussore\nsilks of India and other kindred silks in Japan; and so likewise was\nthis rough silky fabric spun and woven in Hellas, until in course of\ntime it was surpassed and superseded by the finer produce of the 'Seric\nworm', and the older industry died out and was utterly forgotten.\n\nEre we leave the subject of insects let us linger a moment over one\nwhich the Greeks loved, and loved most of all. When as schoolboys we\nfirst began to read our Thucydides, we met in the very beginning with\nthe story of how rich Athenians wore Golden Grasshoppers (as the\nschoolmaster calls them) in their hair. These golden ornaments were, of\ncourse, no common grasshoppers, but the little Cicadas, whose sharp\nchirrup seemed delightful music to the Greeks. It is unpleasant to our\nears, as Browning found it; but in a multitude of Greek poets, in\nAlcaeus and Anacreon and all through the whole Anthology, we hear its\npraise. We have it, for instance, in the _Birds_:\n\n    Though the hot sun be shining in the sky\n    In the deep flowery meadow-grass I lie:\n    To listen to the shrill melodious tune\n    Of crickets, thrilled to ecstasy at noon.\n\nOf this familiar and beloved insect Aristotle gives a copious account.\nHe describes two separate species, which we still recognize easily; a\nlarger one and the better singer, the other smaller and the first to\ncome and last to go with the summer season. He recognized the curious\nvocal organ, or vibratory drum, at the cicada's waist, and saw that some\ncicadas possessed it and others not; and he knew, as the poets also\nknew, that it was the males who sang, while their wives listened and\nwere silent. He tells how the cicada is absent from treeless countries,\nas, for instance, from Cyrene (and why, I wonder, does he go all the way\nto Cyrene for his illustration?), neither is it heard in deep and\nsunless woods; but in the olive-groves you hear it at its best, for an\nolive-grove is sparse and the sun comes through. Then he tells us\nbriefly, but with remarkable accuracy, the story of the creature's life:\nhow the female, with her long ovipositor, lays her eggs deep down in\ndead, hollow twigs, such as the canes on which the vines are propped;\nhow the brood, when they escape from the egg, burrow underground; how\nlater on they emerge, especially in rainy weather, when the rains have\nsoftened the soil; how then the larva changes into another form, the\nso-called 'nymph'; and how at last, when summer comes, the skin of the\nnymph breaks and the perfect insect issues forth, changes colour, and\nbegins to sing. In Aristophanes, in Theocritus, in Lucretius, Virgil,\nMartial, and in the Anthology, we may gather up a host of poetical\nallusions to the natural history thus simply epitomized.\n\nThe Book about Animals, the _Historia Animalium_ as we say, from which I\nhave quoted these few examples of Aristotle's store of information, may\nbe taken to represent the first necessary stage of scientific inquiry.\nThere is a kind of _manual_ philosophy (as old Lord Monboddo called it)\nwhich investigates facts which escape the vulgar, and may be called the\n_anecdotes_ or _secret history_ of nature. In this fascinating pursuit\nGilbert White excelled, and John Ray and many another--the whole\nbrotherhood of simple naturalists. But such accumulated knowledge of\nfacts is but the foundation of a philosophy; and 'nothing deserves the\nname of philosophy, except what explains the causes and principles of\nthings'. Aristotle would have done much had he merely shown (as Gilbert\nWhite showed to the country gentlemen of his day) that the minute\nobservation of nature was something worth the scholar and the\ngentleman's while; but, far more than this, he made a Science of natural\nknowledge, and set it once for all within the realm of Philosophy. He\nset it side by side with the more ancient science of Astronomy, which\nfor many hundred years in Egypt and the East, and for some few centuries\nin Hellas, had occupied the mind of philosophers and the attention of\neducated men. I have quoted before a great sentence in which he explains\nhis purpose, and makes excuse for his temerity. 'The glory, doubtless,\nof the heavenly bodies fills us with more delight than the contemplation\nof these lowly things; for the sun and stars are born not, neither do\nthey decay, but are eternal and divine. But the heavens are high and\nafar off, and of celestial things the knowledge that our senses give us\nis scanty and dim. The living creatures, on the other hand, are at our\ndoor, and if we so desire it we may gain ample and certain knowledge of\neach and all. We take pleasure in the beauty of a statue, shall not then\nthe living fill us with delight; and all the more if in the spirit of\nphilosophy we search for causes and recognize the evidences of design.\nThen will nature's purpose and her deep-seated laws be everywhere\nrevealed, all tending in her multitudinous work to one form or another\nof the Beautiful.'\n\nAristotle's voluminous writings have come down to us through many grave\nvicissitudes. The greatest of them all are happily intact, or very\nnearly so; but some are lost and others have suffered disorder and\ncorruption. The work known as the 'Parts of Animals' opens (as our text\nhas it) with a chapter which seems meant for a general exordium to the\nwhole series of biological treatises; and I know no chapter in all\nAristotle's books which better shows (in plainer English or easier\nGreek) the master-hand of the great Teacher and Philosopher. He begins\nby telling us (it has ever since been a common saying) that every\nscience, every branch of knowledge, admits of two sorts of\nproficiency--that which may properly be termed scientific knowledge, and\nthat which is within the reach of ordinary educated men. He proceeds to\ndiscuss the 'method' of scientific inquiry, whether we should begin with\nthe specific and proceed to the general, or whether we are to deal first\nwith common or generical characters and thereafterward with special\npeculiarities. Are we entitled to treat of animals, as is done in\nmathematical astronomy, by dealing first with facts or phenomena and\nthen proceeding to discover and relate their several causes? At once\nthis leads to a brief discussion (elaborated elsewhere) of the two great\nCauses, or aspects of cause--the final cause and the 'moving' or\nefficient cause--the _reason why_ or the purpose for which, and the\nantecedent cause which, _of necessity_, brings a thing to be such as it\nis. Here is one of the great crucial questions of philosophy, and\nAristotle's leaning to the side of the Final Cause has been a dominant\ninfluence upon the minds of men throughout the whole history of\nlearning. Empedocles had taken another view: he held that the rain comes\nwhen it listeth, or 'of necessity'; that we have no right to suppose it\ncomes to make the corn grow in spring, any more than to spoil the autumn\nsheaves: that the teeth grow by the operation of some natural (or\nphysical) law, and that their apparent and undoubted fitness for cutting\nand grinding is not purposeful but coincident; that the backbone is\ndivided into vertebrae because of the antecedent forces, or flexions,\nwhich act upon it in the womb. And Empedocles proceeds to the great\nevolutionary deduction, the clear prevision of Darwin's philosophy, that\nfit and unfit arise alike, but that what is fit to survive does survive\nand what is unfit perishes.\n\nThe story is far too long and the theme involved too grave and difficult\nfor treatment here. But I would venture to suggest that Aristotle\ninclined to slur over the physical and lean the more to the final cause,\nfor this simple reason (whatever other reasons there may be), that he\nwas a better biologist than a physicist: that he lacked somewhat the\nmathematical turn of mind which was intrinsic to the older schools of\nphilosophy. For better for worse the course he took, the choice he made,\nwas of incalculable import, and had power for centuries to guide (dare\nwe say, to bias) the teaching of the schools, the progress of learning,\nand the innermost beliefs of men.\n\nIn this one short but pregnant chapter of Aristotle's there is far more\nthan we can hope even to epitomize. He has much to say in it of\n'classification', an important matter indeed, and he discusses it as a\ngreat logician should, in all its rigour. Many commentators have sought\nfor Aristotle's 'classification of animals'; for my part I have never\nfound it, and, in our sense of the word, I am certain it is not there.\nAn unbending, unchanging classification of animals would have been\nsomething foreign to all his logic; it is all very well, it becomes\npractically necessary, when we have to arrange our animals on the\nshelves of a museum or in the arid pages of a 'systematic' catalogue;\nand it takes a new complexion when, or if, we can attain to a real or\nhistorical classification, following lines of actual descent and based\non proven facts of historical evolution. But Aristotle (as it seems to\nme) neither was bound to a museum catalogue nor indulged in visions\neither of a complete _scala naturae_ or of an hypothetical phylogeny. He\nclassified animals as he found them; and, as a logician, he had a\ndichotomy for every difference which presented itself to his mind. At\none time he divided animals into those with blood and those without, at\nanother into the air-breathers and the water-breathers; into the wild\nand the tame, the social and the solitary, and so on in endless ways\nbesides. At the same time he had a quick eye for the great natural\ngroups, such 'genera' (as he called them) as Fish or Bird, Insect or\nMollusc. So it comes to pass that, while he fashioned no hard and fast\nscheme of classification, and would undoubtedly (I hold) have thought it\nvain to do so, the threads of his several partial or temporary\nclassifications come together after all, though in a somewhat hazy\npattern, yet in a very beautiful and coherent parti-coloured web. And\nthough his order is not always our order, yet a certain exquisite\norderliness is of the very essence of his thought and style. It is the\ncharacteristic which Moli\u00e8re hits upon in _Les Femmes savantes_,--'Je\nm'attache _pour l'ordre_ au p\u00e9ripat\u00e9tisme'.\n\nBefore he finishes the great chapter of which we have begun to speak he\nindicates that there are more ways than one of relating, or\nclassifying, our facts; that, for instance, it may be equally proper and\nnecessary to deal now with the animals and their several parts or\nproperties, and at another time with the parts or properties as such,\nexplaining and illustrating them in turn by the several animals which\ndisplay or possess them. The 'Parts of Animals' is, then, a corollary, a\nnecessary corollary, to the more anecdotal _Historia Animalium_. And yet\nagain, there is a third alternative--to discuss the great functions or\nactions or potentialities of the organism, as it were first of all in\nthe abstract, and then to correlate them with the parts which in this or\nthat creature are provided and are 'designed' to effect them. This\ninvolves the conception and the writing of separate physiological\ntreatises on such themes as Respiration, Locomotion, on Sleeping and\nWaking, and lastly (and in some respects the most ambitious, most\nerudite, and most astonishing of them all) the great account of the\nGeneration of Animals.\n\nSo the whole range, we might say the whole conceivable range, of\nbiological science is sketched out, and the greater part of the great\ncanvas is painted in. But to bring it into touch with human life, and to\nmake good its claim to the high places of philosophy, we must go yet\nfarther and study Life itself, and what men call the Soul. So grows the\ngreat conception. We begin with trivial anecdote, with the things that\nfisherman, huntsman, peasant know; the sciences of zoology, anatomy,\nphysiology take shape before our very eyes; and by evening we sit humbly\nat the feet of the great teacher of Life itself, the historian of the\nSoul. It is not for us to attempt to show that even here the story does\nnot end, but the highest chapters of philosophy begin. Then, when we\nremember that this short narrative of ours is but the faintest\nadumbration of one side only of the philosopher's many-sided task and\nenterprise, we begin to rise towards a comprehension of Roger Bacon's\nsaying, that 'although Aristotle did not arrive at the end of knowledge,\nhe set in order all parts of philosophy'. In the same spirit a modern\ncritic declares: 'Il n'a seulement d\u00e9fini et constitu\u00e9 chacune des\nparties de la science; il en a de plus montr\u00e9 le lien et l'unit\u00e9'.\n\nAristotle, like Shakespeare, is full of old saws, tags of wisdom, jewels\nfive words long. Here is such a one, good for teacher and pupil\nalike--\u0394\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 {Dei pisteuein ton manthanonta}. It\ntells us that the road to Learning lies through Faith; and it means that\nto be a scholar one should have a heart as well as brains.\n\nBy reason partly of extraneous interpolation, but doubtless also through\na lingering credulity from which even philosophers are not immune, we\nfind in Aristotle many a strange story. The goats that breathe through\ntheir ears, the vulture impregnated by the wind, the eagle that dies of\nhunger, the stag caught by music, the salamander which walks through\nfire, the unicorn, the mantichore, are but a few of the 'Vulgar Errors'\nor 'Received Tenents' (as Sir Thomas Browne has it) which are\nperpetuated, not originated, in the _Historia Animalium_. Some of them\ncome, through Persia, from the farther East: and others (we meet with\nthem once more in Horapollo the Egyptian priest) are but the exoteric or\nallegorical expression of the arcana of ancient Egyptian religion.\n\nSo it comes to pass that for two thousand years and throughout all lands\nmen have come to Aristotle, and found in him information and\ninstruction--that which they desired. Arab and Moor and Syrian and Jew\ntreasured his books while the western world sat in darkness; the great\ncenturies of Scholasticism hung upon his words; the oldest of our\nUniversities, Bologna, Paris, Oxford, were based upon his teaching, yea,\nall but established for his study. Where he has been, there, seen or\nunseen, his influence remains; even the Moor and the Arab find in him,\nto this day, a teacher after their own hearts: a teacher of eternal\nverities, telling of sleep and dreams, of youth and age, of life and\ndeath, of generation and corruption, of growth and of decay: a guide to\nthe book of Nature, a revealer of the Spirit, a prophet of the works of\nGod.\n\nThe purpose of these little essays, I have been told (though I had half\nforgotten it), is to help though ever so little to defend and justify\nthe study of the language and the vast literature of Greece. It is a\ntask for which I am unfitted and unprepared. When Oliver Goldsmith\nproposed to teach Greek at Leyden, where he 'had been told it was a\ndesideratum', the Principal of that celebrated University met him (as we\nall know) with weighty objections. 'I never learned Greek', said the\nPrincipal, 'and I don't find that I have ever missed it. I have had a\nDoctor's cap and gown without Greek. I have ten thousand florins a year\nwithout Greek; and, in short', continued he, 'as I don't know Greek, I\ndo not believe there is any good in it.'--I have heard or read the story\nagain and again, for is it not written in the _Vicar of Wakefield_? But\nI never heard that any man, not Goldsmith himself, attempted to confute\nthe argument. I agree for the most part with the Principal, and can see\nclearly that all the Greek that Goldsmith knew, and all the Greek in all\nthe world, would have meant nothing and done nothing for him. But there\nis and will be many another who finds in Greek wisdom and sweet Hellenic\nspeech something which he needs must have, and lacking which he would be\npoor indeed: something which is as a staff in his hand, a light upon his\npath, a lantern to his feet.\n\nIn this workaday world we may still easily possess ourselves, as Gibbon\nsays the subjects of the Byzantine Throne, even in their lowest\nservitude and depression, were still possessed, 'of a golden key that\ncould unlock the treasures of antiquity, of a musical and prolific\nlanguage that gives a soul to the objects of sense, and a body to the\nabstractions of philosophy'.\n\nOur very lives seem prolonged by the recollection of antiquity; for, as\nCicero says, not to know what has been transacted in former times is to\ncontinue always a child. I borrow the citation from Dr. Johnson, who\nreminds us also of a saying of Aristotle himself, that as students we\nought first to examine and understand what has been written by the\nancients, and then cast our eyes round upon the world. And Johnson\nprefaces both quotations by another:\n\n        Tibi res antiquae laudis et artis\n    ingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes.\n\nBut now I, who have dared to draw my tiny draft from Aristotle's great\nwell, seem after all to be seeking an excuse, seeking it in example and\nprecept. Precept, at least, I know to be of no avail. My father spent\nall the many days of his life in the study of Greek; you might suppose\nit was for Wisdom's sake,--but my father was a modest man. The fact is,\nhe did it for a simpler reason still, a very curious reason, to be\nwhispered rather than told: he did it _for love_.\n\nNigh forty years ago, I first stepped out on the east-windy streets of a\ncertain lean and hungry town (lean, I mean, as regards scholarship)\nwhere it was to be my lot to spend thereafter many and many a year. And\nthe very first thing I saw there was an inscription over a very humble\ndoorway, '_Hic mecum habitant Dante, Cervantes, Moli\u00e8re_'. It was the\nhome of a poor schoolmaster, who as a teacher of languages eked out the\nscanty profits of his school. I was not a little comforted by the\nannouncement. So the poor scholar, looking on the ragged regiment of his\nfew books, is helped, consoled, exalted by the reflection: _Hic mecum\nhabitant ... Homerus, Plato, Aristoteles_. And were one in a moment of\ninadvertence to inquire of him why he occupied himself with Greek, he\nmight perchance stammer (like Dominie Sampson) an almost inarticulate\nreply; but more probably he would be stricken speechless by the enormous\noutrage of the request, and the reason of his devotion would be hidden\nfrom the questioner for ever.\n\nD'ARCY WENTWORTH THOMPSON.\n\n\n\n\nBIOLOGY\n\n\n_Before Aristotle_\n\nWhat is science? It is a question that cannot be answered easily, nor\nperhaps answered at all. None of the definitions seem to cover the field\nexactly; they are either too wide or too narrow. But we can see science\nin its growth and we can say that being a process it can exist only as\ngrowth. Where does the science of biology begin? Again we cannot say,\nbut we can watch its evolution and its progress. Among the Greeks the\naccurate observation of living forms, which is at least one of the\nessentials of biological science, goes back very far. The word\n_Biology_, used in our sense, would, it is true, have been an\nimpossibility among them, for _bios_ refers to the life of man and could\nnot be applied, except in a strained or metaphorical sense, to that of\nother living things.[6] But the _ideas_ we associate with the word are\nclearly developed in Greek philosophy and the foundations of biology are\nof great antiquity.\n\n    [6] The word _Biology_ was introduced by Gottfried Reinhold\n    Treviranus (1776-1837) in his _Biologie oder die Philosophie der\n    lebenden Natur_, 6 vols., G\u00f6ttingen, 1802-22, and was adopted by\n    J.-B. de Lamarck (1744-1829) in his _Hydrog\u00e9ologie_, Paris, 1802. It\n    is probable that the first English use of the word in its modern\n    sense is by Sir William Lawrence (1783-1867) in his work _On the\n    Physiology, Zoology, and Natural History of Man_, London, 1819;\n    there are earlier English uses of the word, however, contrasted with\n    _biography_.\n\nThe Greek people had many roots, racial, cultural, and spiritual, and\nfrom them all they inherited various powers and qualities and derived\nvarious ideas and traditions. The most suggestive source for our purpose\nis that of the Minoan race whom they dispossessed and whose lands they\noccupied. That highly gifted people exhibited in all stages of its\ndevelopment a marvellous power of graphically representing animal forms,\nof which the famous Cretan friezes, Vaphio cups (Fig. 5), and Mycenean\nlions provide well-known examples. It is difficult not to believe that\nthe Minoan element, entering into the mosaic of peoples that we call the\nGreeks, was in part at least responsible for the like graphic power\ndeveloped in the Hellenic world, though little contact has yet been\ndemonstrated between Minoan and archaic Greek Art.\n\nFor the earliest biological achievements of Greek peoples we have to\nrely largely on information gleaned from artistic remains. It is true\nthat we have a few fragments of the works of both Ionian and\nItalo-Sicilian philosophers, and in them we read of theoretical\nspeculation as to the nature of life and of the soul, and we can thus\nform some idea of the first attempts of such workers as Alcmaeon of\nCroton (_c._ 500 B. C.) to lay bare the structure of animals by\ndissection.[7] The pharmacop\u0153ia also of some of the earliest works of\nthe Hippocratic collection betrays considerable knowledge of both native\nand foreign plants.[8] Moreover, scattered through the pages of\nHerodotus and other early writers is a good deal of casual information\nconcerning animals and plants, though such material is second-hand and\ngives us little information concerning the habit of exact observation\nthat is the necessary basis of science.\n\n    [7] The remains of Alcmaeon are given in H. Diel's _Die Fragmente\n    der Vorsokratiker_, Berlin, 1903, p. 103. Alcmaeon is considered in\n    the companion chapter on _Greek Medicine_.\n\n    [8] Especially the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 {peri gynaikei\u00eas physios},\n    _On the nature of woman_, and the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri gynaikei\u00f4n},\n    _On the diseases of women_.\n\nSomething more is, however, revealed by early Greek Art. We are in\npossession of a series of vases of the seventh and sixth centuries\nbefore the Christian era showing a closeness of observation of animal\nforms that tells of a people awake to the study of nature. We have thus\nportrayed for us a number of animals--plants seldom or never appear--and\namong the best rendered are wild creatures: we see antelopes quietly\nfeeding or startled at a sound, birds flying or picking worms from the\nground, fallow deer forcing their way through thickets, browsing\npeacefully, or galloping away, boars facing the hounds and dogs chasing\nhares, wild cattle forming their defensive circle, hawks seizing their\nprey. Many of these exhibit minutely accurate observation. The very\ndirection of the hairs on the animals' coats has sometimes been closely\nstudied, and often the muscles are well rendered. In some cases even the\ndentition has been found accurately portrayed, as in a sixth-century\nrepresentation on an Ionian vase of a lioness--an animal then very rare\non the Eastern Mediterranean littoral, but still known in Babylonia,\nSyria, and Asia Minor. The details of the work show that the artist must\nhave examined the animal in captivity (Figs. 1 and 2).\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 1. Lioness and young from an Ionian vase of the\nsixth century B. C. found at Caere in Southern Etruria (Louvre, Salle E,\nNo. 298), from _Le Dessin des Animaux en Gr\u00e8ce d'apr\u00e8s les vases\npeints_, by J. Morin, Paris (Renouard), 1911. The animal is drawing\nitself up to attack its hunters. The scanty mane, the form of the paws,\nthe udders, and the dentition are all heavily though accurately\nrepresented.]\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 2. A, Jaw bones of lion; B, head of lioness from\nCaere vase (Fig. 1), after Morin. Note the careful way in which the\nartist has distinguished the molar from the cutting teeth.]\n\nAnimal paintings of this order are found scattered over the Greek world\nwith special centres or schools in such places as Cyprus, Boeotia, or\nChalcis. The very name for a painter in Greek, _zoographos_, recalls the\nattention paid to living forms. By the fifth century, in painting them\nas in other departments of Art, the supremacy of Attica had asserted\nitself, and there are many beautiful Attic vase-paintings of animals to\nplace by the side of the magnificent horses' heads of the Parthenon\n(Fig. 6). In Attica, too, was early developed a characteristic and\nclosely accurate type of representation of marine forms, and this\nattained a wider vogue in Southern Italy in the fourth century. From the\nlatter period a number of dishes and vases have come down to us bearing\na large variety of fish forms, portrayed with an exactness that is\ninteresting in view of the attention to marine creatures in the\nsurviving literature of Aristotelian origin (Fig. 3).\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 3. Paintings of fish on plates. Italo-Greek work of\nthe fourth century B. C. From Morin.\n\n  A. Sargus vulgaris.\n  B. Crenilabrus mediterraneus.\n  C. Uranoscopus scaber?]\n\nThese artistic products are more than a mere reflex of the daily life\nof the people. The habits and positions of animals are observed by the\nhunter, as are the forms and colours of fish by the fisherman; but the\nmethods of huntsman and fisher do not account for the accurate portrayal\nof a lion's dentition, the correct numbering of a fish's scales or the\nclose study of the lie of the feathers on the head, and the pads on the\nfeet, of a bird of prey (Fig. 4). With observations such as these we are\nin the presence of something worthy of the name _Biology_. Though but\nlittle literature on that topic earlier than the writings of Aristotle\nhas come down to us, yet both the character of his writings and such\npaintings and pictures as these, suggest the existence of a strong\ninterest and a wide literature, biological in the modern sense,\nantecedent to the fourth century.\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 4. Head and talons of the Sea-eagle, _Halia\u00ebtus\nalbicilla_:\n\n  A, From an Ionic vase of the sixth century B. C.\n  B, Drawn from the object.\n\nFrom Morin.]\n\nGreek science, however, exhibits throughout its history a peculiar\ncharacteristic differentiating it from the modern scientific standpoint.\nMost of the work of the Greek scientist was done in relation to man.\nNature interested him mainly in relation to himself. The Greek\nscientific and philosophic world was an anthropocentric world, and this\ncomes out in the overwhelming mass of medical as distinct from\nbiological writings that have come down to us. Such, too, is the\nsentiment expressed by the poets in their descriptions of the animal\ncreation:\n\n    Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man:\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood\n    He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood.\n    Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart\n    Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art.\n    And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.\n\n    Sophocles, _Antigone_, verses 342 ff.\n\n    (Translation of F. Storr.)\n\nIt is thus not surprising that our first systematic treatment of animals\nis in a practical medical work, the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 {peri diait\u00eas}, _On\ndiet_, of the Hippocratic Collection. This very peculiar treatise dates\nfrom the later part of the fifth century. It is strongly under the\ninfluence of Heracleitus (_c._ 540-475) and contains many points of view\nwhich reappear in later philosophy. All animals, according to it, are\nformed of fire and water, nothing is born and nothing dies, but there is\na perpetual and eternal revolution of things, so that change itself is\nthe only reality. Man's nature is but a parallel to that of the\nuniversal nature, and the arts of man are but an imitation or reflex of\nthe natural arts or, again, of the bodily functions. The soul, a mixture\nof water and fire, consumes itself in infancy and old age, and increases\nduring adult life. Here, too, we meet with that singular doctrine, not\nwithout bearing on the course of later biological thought, that in the\nfoetus all parts are formed simultaneously. On the proportion of fire\nand water in the body all depends, sex, temper, temperament, intellect.\nSuch speculative ideas separate this book from the sober method of the\nmore typical Hippocratic medical works with which indeed it has little\nin common.\n\nAfter having discussed these theoretical matters the work turns to its\nown practical concerns, and in the course of setting out the natures of\nfoods gives in effect a rough classification of animals. These are set\nforth in groups, and from among the larger groups only the reptiles and\ninsects are missing. The list has been described, perhaps hardly with\njustification, as the _Coan classificatory system_. We have here,\nindeed, no _system_ in the sense in which that word is now applied to\nthe animal kingdom, but we have yet some sort of definite arrangement of\nanimals according to their supposed natures. The passage opens with\nmammals, which are divided into domesticated and wild, the latter being\nmentioned in order according to size, next follow the land-birds, then\nthe water-fowl, and then the fishes. These fish are divided into (1) the\nhaunters of the shore, (2) the free-swimming forms, (3) the\ncartilaginous fishes or Selachii, which are not so named but are placed\ntogether, (4) the mud-loving forms, and (5) the fresh-water fish.\nFinally come invertebrates arranged in some sort of order according to\ntheir structure. The characteristic feature of the 'classification' is\nthe separation of the fish from the remaining vertebrates and of the\ninvertebrates from both. Of the fifty animals named no less than twenty\nare fish, about a fifth of the number studied by Aristotle, but we must\nremember that here only edible species are mentioned. The existence of\nthe work shows at least that in the fifth century there was already a\nclose and accurate study of animal forms, a study that may justly be\ncalled scientific. The predominance of fish and their classification in\ngreater detail than the other groups is not an unexpected feature. The\nMediterranean is especially rich in these forms, the Greeks were a\nmaritime people, and Greek literature is full of imagery drawn from the\nfisher's craft. From Minoan to Byzantine times the variety, beauty, and\ncolour of fish made a deep impression on Greek minds as reflected in\ntheir art.\n\nMuch more important, however, for subsequent biological development\nthan such observations on the nature and habits of animals, is the\nservice that the Hippocratic physicians rendered to Anatomy and to\nPhysiology, departments in which the structure of man and of the\ndomesticated animals stands apart from that of the rest of the animal\nkingdom. It is with the nature and constitution of man that most of the\nsurviving early biological writings are concerned, and in these\ndepartments are unmistakable tendencies towards systematic arrangement\nof the material. Thus we have division and description of the body in\nsevens from the periphery to the centre and from the vertex to the sole\nof the foot,[9] or a division into four regions or zones.[10] The\nteaching concerning the four elements and four humours too became of\ngreat importance and some of it was later adopted by Aristotle. We also\nmeet numerous mechanical explanations of bodily structures, comparisons\nbetween anatomical conditions encountered in related animals,\nexperiments on living creatures,[11] systematic incubation of hen's eggs\nfor the study of their development, parallels drawn between the\ndevelopment of plants and of human and animal embryos, theories of\ngeneration, among which is that which was afterwards called\n'pangenesis'--discussion of the survival of the stronger over the\nweaker--almost our survival of the fittest--and a theory of inheritance\nof acquired characters.[12] All these things show not only extensive\nknowledge but also an attempt to apply such knowledge to human needs.\nWhen we consider how even in later centuries biology was linked with\nmedicine, and how powerful and fundamental was the influence of the\nHippocratic writings, not only on their immediate successors in\nantiquity, but also on the Middle Ages and right into the nineteenth\ncentury, we shall recognize the significance of these developments.\n\n    [9] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u1f11\u03b2\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd {peri hebdomad\u00f4n}. The Greek text is lost. We\n    have, however, an early and barbarous Latin translation, and there\n    has recently been printed an Arabic commentary. G. Bergstrasser,\n    _Pseudogaleni in Hippocratis de septimanis commentarium ab Hunnino\n    Q. F. arabice versum_, Leipzig, 1914.\n\n    [10] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4 {peri nous\u00f4n d}.\n\n    [11] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2 {peri kardi\u00eas}.\n\n    [12] Especially in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 {peri gon\u00eas}.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 5. MINOAN GOLD CUP. SIXTEENTH CENTURY B. C.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 6. HORSE'S HEAD. FROM PARTHENON. 440 B. C.]\n\nSuch was the character of biological thought within the fifth century,\nand a generation inspired by this movement produced some noteworthy\nworks in the period which immediately followed. In the treatise \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\n\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b7\u03c2 {peri troph\u00eas}, _On nourishment_, which may perhaps be dated\nabout 400 B. C., we learn of the pulse for the first time in Greek\nmedical literature, and read of a physiological system which lasted\nuntil the time of Harvey, with the arteries arising from the heart and\nthe veins from the liver. Of about the same date is a work \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2\n{peri kardi\u00eas}, _On the heart_, which describes the ventricles as well\nas the great vessels and their valves, and compares the heart of animals\nwith that of man.\n\nA little later, perhaps 390 B. C., is the treatise \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd {peri\nsark\u00f4n}, _On muscles_, which contains much more than its title suggests.\nIt has the old system of sevens and, inspired perhaps by the philosophy\nof Heracleitus (_c._ 540-475), describes the heart as sending air, fire,\nand movement to the different parts of the body through the vessels\nwhich are themselves constantly in movement. The infant in its mother's\nwomb is believed to draw in air and fire through its mouth and to eat\n_in utero_. The action of the air on the blood is compared to its action\non fire. In contrast to some of the other Hippocratic treatises the\ncentral nervous system is in the background; much attention, however, is\ngiven to the special senses. The brain resounds during audition. The\nolfactory nerves are hollow, lead to the brain, and, convey volatile\nsubstances to it which cause it to secrete mucus. The eyes also have\nbeen examined, and their coats and humours roughly described; an\nallusion, the first in literature, is perhaps made to the crystalline\nlens, and the eyes of animals are compared with those of man. There is\nevidence not only of dissection but of experiment, and in efforts to\ncompare the resistance of various tissues to such processes as boiling,\nwe may see the small beginning of chemical physiology.\n\nAn abler work than any of these, but exhibiting less power of\nobservation is a treatise, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 {peri gon\u00eas}, _On generation_,\nthat may perhaps be dated about 380 B. C.[13] It exhibits a writer of\nmuch philosophic power, very anxious for physiological explanations, but\nhampered by ignorance of physics. He has, in fact, the weaknesses and in\na minor degree the strength of his successor Aristotle, of whose great\nwork on generation he gives us a fore-taste. He sets forth in\nconsiderable detail a doctrine of pangenesis, not wholly unlike that of\nDarwin. In order to explain the phenomena of inheritance he supposes\nthat vessels reach the seed, carrying with them samples from all parts\nof the body. He believes that channels pass from all the organs to the\nbrain and then to the spinal marrow (or to the marrow direct), thence to\nthe kidneys and on to the genital organs; he believes, too, that he\nknows the actual location of one such channel, for he observes, wrongly,\nthat incision behind the ears, by interrupting the passage, leads to\nimpotence. As an outcome of this theory he is prepared to accept\ninheritance of acquired characters. The embryo develops and breathes by\nmaterial transmitted from the mother through the umbilical cord. We\nencounter here also a very detailed description of a specimen of\nexfoliated _membrana mucosa uteri_ which our author mistakes for an\nembryo, but his remarks at least exhibit the most eager curiosity.[14]\n\n    [13] The three works \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 {peri gon\u00eas}, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\n    {peri physios paidiou}, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b4 {peri nous\u00f4n d}, _On\n    generation_, _on the nature of the embryo_, _on diseases, book IV_,\n    form really one treatise on generation.\n\n    [14] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 {peri physios paidiou}, _On the nature of\n    the embryo_, \u00a7 13. The same experience is described in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\n    \u03c3\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd {peri sark\u00f4n}, _On the muscles_.\n\nThe author of this work on generation is thus a 'biologist' in the\nmodern sense, and among the passages exhibiting him in this light is his\ncomparison of the human embryo with the chick. 'The embryo is in a\nmembrane in the centre of which is the navel through which it draws and\ngives its breath, and the membranes arise from the umbilical cord....\nThe structure of the child you will find from first to last as I have\nalready described.... If you wish, try this experiment: take twenty or\nmore eggs and let them be incubated by two or more hens. Then each day\nfrom the second to that of hatching remove an egg, break it, and examine\nit. You will find exactly as I say, for the nature of the bird can be\nlikened to that of man. The membranes [you will see] proceed from the\numbilical cord, and all that I have said on the subject of the infant\nyou will find in a bird's egg, and one who has made these observations\nwill be surprised to find an umbilical cord in a bird's egg.'[15]\n\n    [15] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 {peri physios paidiou}, _On the nature of\n    the embryo_, \u00a7 29.\n\nThe same interest that he exhibits for the development of man and\nanimals he shows also for plants.\n\n     'A seed laid in the ground fills itself with the juices there\n     contained, for the soil contains in itself juices of every nature\n     for the nourishment of plants. Thus filled with juice the seed is\n     distended and swells, and thereby the power (= faculty \u1f21 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03c2\n     {h\u00ea dynamis}) diffused in the seed is compressed by pneuma and\n     juice, and bursting the seed becomes the first leaves. But a time\n     comes when these leaves can no longer get nourished from the juices\n     in the seed. Then the seed and the leaves erupt below, for urged by\n     the leaves the seed sends down that part of its power which is yet\n     concentrated within it and so the roots are produced as an\n     extension of the leaves. When at last the plant is well rooted\n     below and is drawing its nutriment from the earth, then the whole\n     grain disappears, being absorbed, save for the husk, which is the\n     most solid part; and even that, decomposing in the earth,\n     ultimately becomes invisible. In time some of the leaves put forth\n     branches. The plant being thus produced by humidity from the seed\n     is still soft and moist. Growing actively both above and below, it\n     cannot as yet bear fruit, for it has not the quality of force and\n     reserve (\u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b9\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 {dynamis ischyr\u00ea kai piara}) from\n     which a seed can be precipitated. But when, with time, the plant\n     becomes firmer and better rooted, it develops veins as passages\n     both upwards and downwards, and it draws from the soil not only\n     water but more abundantly also substances that are denser and\n     fatter. Warmed, too, by the sun, these act as a ferment to the\n     extremities and give rise to fruit after its kind. The fruit thus\n     develops much from little, for every plant draws from the earth a\n     power more abundant than that with which it started, and the\n     fermentation takes place not at one place but at many.'[16]\n\n    [16] \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 {peri physios paidiou}, _On the nature of\n    the embryo_, \u00a7 22.\n\nNor does our author hesitate to draw an analogy between the plant and\nthe mammalian embryo. 'In the same way the infant lives within its\nmother's womb and in a state corresponding to the health of the mother\n... and you will find a complete similitude between the products of the\nsoil and the products of the womb.'\n\nThe early Greek literature is so scantily provided with illustrations\ndrawn from botanical study, that it is worth considering the remarkable\ncomparison of generation of plants from cuttings and from seeds in the\nsame work.\n\n     'As regards plants generated from cuttings ... that part of a\n     branch where it was cut from a tree is placed in the earth and\n     there rootlets are sent out. This is how it happens: The part of\n     the plant within the soil draws up juices, swells, and develops a\n     pneuma (\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 {pneuma ischei}), but not so the part without.\n     The pneuma and the juice concentrate the power of the plant below\n     so that it becomes denser. Then the lower end erupts and gives\n     forth tender roots. Then the plant, taking from below, draws juices\n     from the roots and transmits them to the part above the soil which\n     thus also swells and develops pneuma; thus the power from being\n     diffused in the plant becomes concentrated and budding, gives forth\n     leaves.... Cuttings, then, differ from seeds. With a seed the\n     leaves are borne first, then the roots are sent down; with a\n     cutting the roots form first and then the leaves.'[17]\n\n    [17] Ibid. \u00a7 23.\n\nBut with these works of the early part of the fourth century the first\nstage of Greek biology reaches its finest development. Later\nHippocratic treatises which deal with physiological topics are on a\nlower plane, and we must seek some external cause for the failure. Nor\nhave we far to seek. This period saw the rise of a movement that had the\nmost profound influence on every department of thought. We see the\nadvent into the Greek world of a great intellectual movement as a result\nof which the department of philosophy that dealt with nature receded\nbefore Ethics. Of that intellectual revolution--perhaps the greatest the\nworld has seen--Athens was the site and Socrates (470-399) the\nprotagonist. With the movement itself and its characteristic fruit we\nare not concerned. But the great successor and pupil of its founder\ngives us in the _Timaeus_ a picture of the depth to which natural\nscience can be degraded in the effort to give a specific teleological\nmeaning to all parts of the visible Universe. The book and the picture\nwhich it draws, dark and repulsive to the mind trained in modern\nscientific method, enthralled the imagination of a large part of mankind\nfor wellnigh two thousand years. Organic nature appears in this work of\nPlato (427-347) as the degeneration of man whom the Creator has made\nmost perfect. The school that held this view ultimately decayed as a\nresult of its failure to advance positive knowledge. As the centuries\nwent by its views became further and further divorced from phenomena,\nand the bizarre developments of later Neoplatonism stand to this day as\na warning against any system which shall neglect the investigation of\nnature. But in its decay Platonism dragged science down and destroyed by\nneglect nearly all earlier biological material. Mathematics, not being a\nphenomenal study, suited better the Neoplatonic mood and continued to\nadvance, carrying astronomy with it for a while--astronomy that affected\nthe life of man and that soon became the handmaid of astrology;\nmedicine, too, that determined the conditions of man's life was also\ncherished, though often mistakenly, but pure science was doomed.\n\nBut though the ethical view of nature overwhelmed science in the end,\nthe advent of the mighty figure of Aristotle (384-322) stayed the tide\nfor a time. Yet the writer on Greek Biology remains at a disadvantage in\ncontrast with the Historian of Greek Mathematics, of Greek Astronomy, or\nof Greek Medicine, in the scantiness of the materials for presenting an\naccount of the development of his studies before Aristotle. The huge\nform of that magnificent naturalist completely overshadows Greek as it\ndoes much of later Biology.\n\nCHARLES SINGER.\n\n\n_After Aristotle_\n\nAll Aristotle's surviving biological works refer primarily to the animal\ncreation. His work on plants is lost or rather has survived as the\nmerest corrupted fragment. We are fortunate, however, in the possession\nof a couple of complete works by his pupil and successor Theophrastus\n(372-287), which may not only be taken to represent the Aristotelian\nattitude towards the plant world, but also give us an inkling of the\ngeneral state of biological science in the generation which succeeded\nthe master.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 7. ARISTOTLE\nFrom HERCULANEUM\nProbably work of fourth century B. C.]\n\nThese treatises of Theophrastus are in many respects the most complete\nand orderly of all ancient biological works that have reached our time.\nThey give an idea of the kind of interest that the working scientist of\nthat day could develop when inspired rather by the genius of a great\nteacher than by the power of his own thoughts. Theophrastus is a\npedestrian where Aristotle is a creature of wings, he is in a relation\nto the master of the same order that the morphologists of the second\nhalf of the nineteenth century were to Darwin. For a couple of\ngenerations after the appearance of the _Origin of Species_ in 1859 the\nindustry and ability of naturalists all over the world were occupied in\nworking out in detail the structure and mode of life of living things\non the basis of the Evolutionary philosophy. Nearly all the work on\nmorphology and much of that on physiology since his time might be\ntreated as a commentary on the works of Darwin. These volumes of\nTheophrastus give the same impression. They represent the remains--alas,\nalmost the only biological remains--of a school working under the\nimpulse of a great idea and spurred by the memory of a great teacher. As\nsuch they afford a parallel to much scientific work of our own day,\nproduced by men without genius save that provided by a vision and a hope\nand an ideal. Of such men it is impossible to write as of Aristotle.\nTheir lives are summed up by their actual achievement, and since\nTheophrastus is an orderly writer whose works have descended to us in\ngood state, he is a very suitable instance of the actual standard of\nachievement of ancient biology. 'Without vision the people perish' and\nthe very breath of life of science is drawn, and can only be drawn, from\nthat very small band of prophets who from time to time, during the ages,\nhave provided the great generalizations and the great ideals. In this\nlight let us examine the work of Theophrastus.\n\nIn the absence of any adequate system of classification, almost all\nbotany until the seventeenth century consisted mainly of descriptions of\nspecies. To describe accurately a leaf or a root in the language in\nordinary use would often take pages. Modern botanists have invented an\nelaborate terminology which, however hideous to eye and ear, has the\ncrowning merit of helping to abbreviate scientific literature. Botanical\nwriters previous to the seventeenth century were substantially without\nthis special mode of expression. It is partly to this lack that we owe\nthe persistent attempts throughout the centuries to represent plants\npictorially in herbals, manuscript and printed, and thus the possibility\nof an adequate history of plant illustration.\n\nTheophrastus seems to have felt acutely the need of botanical terms,\nand there are cases in which he seeks to give a special technical\nmeaning to words in more or less current use. Among such words are\n_carpos_ = fruit, _pericarpion_ = seed vessel = pericarp, and _metra_,\nthe word used by him for the central core of any stem whether formed of\nwood, pith, or other substance. It is from the usage of Theophrastus\nthat the exact definition of fruit and pericarp has come down to us.[18]\nWe may easily discern also the purpose for which he introduces into\nbotany the term _metra_, a word meaning primarily the _womb_, and the\nvacancy in the Greek language which it was made to fill. '_Metra_,' he\nsays, 'is that which is in the middle of the wood, being third in order\nfrom the bark and [thus] like to the marrow in bones. Some call it the\n_heart_ (\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd {kardian}), others the _inside_ (\u03b5\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd\n{enteri\u00f4n\u00ean}), yet others call only the innermost part of the metra\nitself the heart, while others again call this _marrow_.'[19] He is thus\ninventing a word to cover all the different kinds of core and importing\nit from another study. This is the method of modern scientific\nnomenclature which hardly existed for botanists even as late as the\nsixteenth century of our era. The real foundations of our modern\nnomenclature were laid in the later sixteenth and in the seventeenth\ncentury by Cesalpino and Joachim Jung.\n\n    [18] It is possible that Theophrastus derived the word pericarp from\n    Aristotle. Cp. _De anima_, ii. 1, 412 b 2. In the passage \u03c4\u03bf \u03c6\u03c5\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd\n    \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03bc\u03b1, \u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 {to phyllon\n    perikarpiou skepasma, to de perikarpion karpou}, in the _De anima_\n    the word does not, however, seem to have the full technical force\n    that Theophrastus gives to it.\n\n    [19] _Historia plantarum_, i. 2, vi.\n\nTheophrastus understood the value of developmental study, a conception\nderived from his master. 'A plant', he says, 'has power of germination\nin all its parts, for it has life in them all, wherefore we should\nregard them not for what they are but for what they are becoming.'[20]\nThe various modes of plant reproduction are correctly distinguished in a\nway that passes beyond the only surviving earlier treatise that deals\nin detail with the subject, the Hippocratic work _On generation_. 'The\nmanner of generation of trees and plants are these: spontaneous, from a\nseed, from a root, from a piece torn off, from a branch or twig, from\nthe trunk itself, or from pieces of the wood cut up small.'[21] The\nmarvel of germination must have awakened admiration from a very early\ndate. We have already seen it occupying a more ancient author, and it\nhad also been one of the chief preoccupations of Aristotle. It is thus\nnot remarkable that the process should impress Theophrastus, who has\nleft on record his views on the formation of the plant from the seed.\n\n    [20] _Ibid._ i. 1, iv.\n\n    [21] _Historia plantarum_, ii. 1, i.\n\n     'Some germinate, root and leaves, from the same point, some\n     separately from either end of the seed. Thus wheat, barley, spelt,\n     and all such cereals [germinate] from either end, corresponding to\n     the position [of the seed] in the ear, the root from the stout\n     lower part, the shoot from the upper; but the two, root and stem,\n     form a single continuous whole. The bean and other leguminous\n     plants are not so, but in them root and stem are from the same\n     point, namely, their place of attachment to the pod, where, it is\n     plain, they have their origin. In some cases there is a process, as\n     in beans, chick peas, and especially lupines, from which the root\n     grows downward, the leaf and stem upward.... In certain trees the\n     bud first germinates within the seed, and, as it increases in size,\n     the seeds split--all such seeds are, as it were, in two halves;\n     again, all those of leguminous plants have plainly two lobes and\n     are double--and then the root is immediately thrust out. But in\n     cereals, the seeds being in one piece, this does not happen, but\n     the root grows a little before [the shoot].\n\n     'Barley and wheat come up monophyllous, but peas, beans, and chick\n     peas polyphyllous. All leguminous plants have a single woody root,\n     from which grow slender side roots ... but wheat, barley, and the\n     other cereals have numerous slender roots by which they are matted\n     together.... There is a contrast between these two kinds; the\n     leguminous plants have a single root and have many side-growths\n     above from the [single] stem ... while the cereals have many roots\n     and send up many shoots, but these have no side-shoots.'[22]\n\n    [22] _Historia plantarum_, viii. 1, i.\n\nThere can be no doubt that here is a piece of minute observation on the\nbehaviour of germinating seeds. The distinction between dicotyledons and\nmonocotyledons is accurately set forth, though the stress is laid not so\nmuch on the cotyledonous character of the seed as on the relation of\nroot and shoot. In the dicotyledons root and shoot are represented as\nspringing from the same point, and in monocotyledons from opposite poles\nin the seed.\n\nNo further effective work was done on the germinating seed until the\ninvention of the microscope, and the appearance of the work of Highmore\n(1613-85),[23] and the much more searching investigations of Malpighi\n(1628-94)[24] and Grew (1641-1712)[25] after the middle of the\nseventeenth century. The observations of Theophrastus are, however, so\naccurate, so lucid, and so complete that they might well be used as\nlegends for the plates of these writers two thousand years after him.\n\n    [23] Nathaniel Highmore, _A History of Generation_, London, 1651.\n\n    [24] Marcello Malpighi, _Anatome plantarum_, London, 1675.\n\n    [25] Nehemiah Grew, _Anatomy of Vegetables begun_, London, 1672.\n\nMuch has been written as to the knowledge of the sex of plants among the\nancients. It may be stated that of the sexual elements of the flower no\nancient writer had any clear idea. Nevertheless, sex is often attributed\nto plants, and the simile of the _Loves of Plants_ enters into works of\nthe poets. Plants are frequently described as male and female in ancient\nbiological writings also, and Pliny goes so far as to say that some\nstudents considered that all herbs and trees were sexual.[26] Yet when\nsuch passages can be tested it will be found that these so-called males\nand females are usually different species. In a few cases a sterile\nvariety is described as the male and a fertile as the female. In a small\nresiduum of cases di\u0153cious plants or flowers are regarded as male and\nfemale, but with no real comprehension of the sexual nature of the\nflowers. There remain the palms, in which the knowledge of plant sex had\nadvanced a trifle farther. 'With dates', says Theophrastus, 'the males\nshould be brought to the females; for the males make the fruit persist\nand ripen, and this some call by analogy _to use the wild fig_\n(\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd {olynthazein}).[27] The process is thus: when the male is in\nthe flower they at once cut off the spathe with the flower and shake the\nbloom, with its flower and dust, over the fruit of the female, and, if\nit is thus treated, it retains the fruit and does not shed it.'[28] The\nfertilizing character of the spathe of the male date palm was familiar\nin Babylon from a very early date. It is recorded by Herodotus[29] and\nis represented by a frequent symbol on the Assyrian monuments.\n\n    [26] Pliny, _Naturalis historia_, xiii. 4.\n\n    [27] The curious word \u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd {olynthazein}, here translated _to\n    use the wild fig_, is from \u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 {olynthos}, a kind of wild fig\n    which seldom ripens. The special meaning here given to the word is\n    explained in another work of Theophrastus, _De causis plantarum_,\n    ii. 9, xv. After describing caprification in figs, he says \u03c4\u03bf \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\n    \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03b2\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03c5 \u03c4\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd, \u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03b1 \u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03c9\n    \u03b4\u03b9' \u1f41 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 {to de epi t\u00f4n phoinik\u00f4n symbainon\n    ou tauton men, echei de tina homoiot\u00eata tout\u00f4 di' ho kalousin\n    olynthazein autous} 'The same thing is not done with dates, but\n    something analogous to it, whence this is called \u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd'\n    {olynthazein'}.\n\n    [28] _Historia plantarum_, ii. 8, iv.\n\n    [29] Herodotus i. 193.\n\nThe comparison of the fertilization of the date palm to the use of the\nwild fig refers to the practice of Caprification. Theophrastus tells us\nthat there are certain trees, the fig among them, which are apt to shed\ntheir fruit prematurely. To remedy this 'the device adopted is\ncaprification. Gall insects come out of the wild figs which are hanging\nthere, eat the tops of the cultivated figs, and so make them swell'.[30]\nThese gall-insects 'are engendered from the seeds'.[31] Theophrastus\ndistinguished between the process as applied to the fig and the date,\nobserving that 'in both [fig and date] the male aids the female--for\nthey call the fruit-bearing [palm] _female_--but whilst in the one there\nis a union of the two sexes, in the other things are different'.[32]\n\n    [30] _Historia plantarum_, ii. 8, i.\n\n    [31] _Ibid._ ii. 8, ii.\n\n    [32] _Historia plantarum_, ii. 8, iv.\n\nTheophrastus was not very successful in distinguishing the nature of the\nprimary elements of plants, though he was able to separate root, stem,\nleaf, stipule, and flower on morphological as well as to a limited\nextent on physiological grounds. For the root he adopts the familiar\ndefinition, the only one possible before the rise of chemistry, that it\n'is that by which the plant draws up nourishment',[33] a description\nthat applies to the account given by the pre-Aristotelian author of the\nwork \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 {peri gon\u00eas}, _On generation_. But Theophrastus shows by\nmany examples that he is capable of following out morphological\nhomologies. Thus he knows that the ivy regularly puts forth roots from\nthe shoots between the leaves, by means of which it gets hold of trees\nand walls,[34] that the mistletoe will not sprout except on the bark of\nliving trees into which it strikes its roots, and that the very peculiar\nformation of the mangrove tree is to be explained by the fact that 'this\nplant sends out roots from the shoots till it has hold on the ground and\nroots again: and so there comes to be a continuous circle of roots round\nthe tree, not connected with the main stem, but at a distance from\nit'.[35] He does not succeed, however, in distinguishing the real nature\nof such structures as bulbs, rhizomes, and tubers, but regards them all\nas roots. Nor is he more successful in his discussion of the nature of\nstems. As to leaves, he is more definite and satisfactory, though wholly\nin the dark as to their function; he is quite clear that the pinnate\nleaf of the rowan tree, for instance, is a leaf and not a branch.\n\n    [33] _Ibid._ i. 1, ix.\n\n    [34] _Ibid._ iii. 18, x.\n\n    [35] _De causis plantarum_, ii. 23.\n\nNotwithstanding his lack of insight as to the nature of sex in flowers,\nhe attains to an approximately correct idea of the relation of flower\nand fruit. Some plants, he says, 'have [the flower] around the fruit\nitself as vine and olive; [the flowers] of the latter, when they drop,\nlook as though they had a hole through them, and this is taken for a\nsign that it has blossomed well; for if [the flower] is burnt up or\nsodden, the fruit falls with it, and so it does not become pierced. Most\nflowers have the fruit case in the middle, or it may be the flower is on\nthe top of the pericarp as in pomegranate, apple, pear, plum, and myrtle\n... for these have their seeds below the flower.... In some cases again\nthe flower is on top of the seeds themselves as in ... all thistle-like\nplants'.[36] Thus Theophrastus has succeeded in distinguishing between\nthe hypogynous, perigynous, and epigynous types of flower, and has\nalmost come to regard its relation to the fruit as the essential floral\nelement.\n\n    [36] _Historia plantarum_, i. 13, iii.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 8. THEOPHRASTUS\nFrom VILLA ALBANI\nCopy (second century A. D.?) of earlier work]\n\nTheophrastus has a perfectly clear idea of plant distribution as\ndependent on soil and climate, and at times seems to be on the point of\npassing from a statement of climatic distribution into one of real\ngeographical regions. The general question of plant distribution long\nremained at, if it did not recede from, the position where he left it.\nThe usefulness of the manuscript and early printed herbals in the West\nwas for centuries marred by the retention of plant descriptions prepared\nfor the Greek East and Latin South, and these works were saved from\ncomplete ineffectiveness only by an occasional appeal to nature.\n\nWith the death of Theophrastus about 287 B. C. pure biological science\nsubstantially disappears from the Greek world, and we get the same type\nof deterioration that is later encountered in other scientific\ndepartments. Science ceases to have the motive of the desire to know,\nand becomes an applied study, subservient to the practical arts. It is\nan attitude from which in the end applied science itself must suffer\nalso. Yet the centuries that follow were not without biological writers\nof very great ability. In the medical school of Alexandria anatomy and\nphysiology became placed on a firm basis from about 300 B. C., but\nalways in the position subordinate to medicine that they have since\noccupied. Two great names of that school, Herophilus and Erasistratus,\nwe must consider elsewhere.[37] Their works have disappeared and we have\nthe merest fragments of them. In the last pre-Christian and the first\ntwo post-Christian centuries, however, there were several writers,\nportions of whose works have survived and are of great biological\nimportance. Among them we include Crateuas, a botanical writer and\nillustrator, who greatly developed, if he did not actually introduce,\nthe method of representing plants systematically by illustration rather\nthan by description. This method, important still, was even more\nimportant when there was no proper system of botanical nomenclature.\nCrateuas by his paintings of plants, copies of which have not improbably\ndescended to our time, began a tradition which, fixed about the fifth\ncentury, remained almost rigid until the re-discovery of nature in the\nsixteenth. He was physician to Mithridates VI Eupator (120-63 B. C.),\nbut his work was well known and appreciated at Rome, which became the\nplace of resort for Greek talent.[38]\n\n    [37] See the companion chapter on _Greek Medicine_.\n\n    [38] The surviving fragments of the works of Crateuas have recently\n    been printed by M. Wellmann as an appendix to the text of\n    Dioscorides, _De materia medica_, 3 vols., Berlin, 1906-17, iii. pp.\n    144-6. The source and fate of his plant drawings are discussed in\n    the same author's _Krateuas_, Berlin, 1897.\n\nCelsus, who flourished about 20 B. C., wrote an excellent work on\nmedicine, but gives all too little glimpse of anatomy and physiology.\nRufus of Ephesus, however, in the next century practised dissection of\napes and other animals. He described the decussation of the optic nerves\nand the capsule of the crystalline lens, and gave the first clear\ndescription that has survived of the structure of the eye. He regarded\nthe nerves as originating from the brain, and distinguished between\nnerves of motion and of sensation. He described the oviduct of the sheep\nand rightly held that life was possible without the spleen.\n\nThe second Christian century brings us two writers who, while\nscientifically inconsiderable, acted as the main carriers of such\ntradition of Greek biology as reached the Middle Ages, Pliny and\nDioscorides. Pliny (A. D. 23-79), though a Latin, owes almost everything\nof value in his encyclopaedia to Greek writings. In his _Natural\nHistory_ we have a collection of current views on the nature, origin,\nand uses of plants and animals such as we might expect from an\nintelligent, industrious, and honest member of the landed class who was\ndevoid of critical or special scientific skill. Scientifically the work\nis contemptible, but it demands mention in any study of the legacy of\nGreece, since it was, for centuries, a main conduit of the ancient\nteaching and observations on natural history. Read throughout the ages,\nalike in the darkest as in the more enlightened periods, copied and\nrecopied, translated, commented on, extracted and abridged, a large part\nof Pliny's work has gradually passed into folk-keeping, so that through\nits agency the gipsy fortune-teller of to-day is still reciting garbled\nversions of the formulae of Aristotle and Hippocrates of two and a half\nmillennia ago.\n\nThe fate of Dioscorides (flourished A. D. 60) has been not dissimilar.\nHis work _On Materia Medica_ consists of a series of short accounts of\nplants, arranged almost without reference to the nature of the plants\nthemselves, but quite invaluable for its terse and striking descriptions\nwhich often include habits and habitats. Its history has shown it to be\none of the most influential botanical treatises ever penned. It provided\nmost of the little botanical knowledge that reached the Middle Ages. It\nfurnished the chief stimulus to botanical research at the time of the\nRenaissance. It has decided the general form of every modern\npharmacop\u0153ia. It has practically determined modern plant nomenclature\nboth popular and scientific.\n\nTranslated into nearly every language from Anglo-Saxon and Bohemian to\nArabic and Hebrew, appearing both abstracted and in full in innumerable\nbeautifully illuminated manuscripts, some of which are still among the\nfairest treasures of the great national libraries, Dioscorides, the\ndrug-monger, appealed to scholasticized minds for centuries. The\nfrequency with which fragments of him are encountered in papyri shows\nhow popular his work was in Egypt in the third and fourth centuries. One\nof the earliest datable Greek codices in existence is a glorious volume\nof Dioscorides written in capitals,[39] thought worthy to form a wedding\ngift for a lady who was the daughter of one Roman emperor and the\nbetrothed of a second.[40] The illustrations of this fifth-century\nmanuscript are a very valuable monument for the history of art and the\nchief adornment of what was once the Royal Library at Vienna[41] (figs.\n9-10). Illustrated Latin translations of Dioscorides were in use in the\ntime of Cassiodorus (490-585). A work based on it, similarly\nillustrated, but bearing the name of Apuleius, is among the most\nfrequent of mediaeval botanical documents and the earliest surviving\nspecimen is contemporary with Cassiodorus himself.[42] After the\nrevival of learning Dioscorides continued to attract an immense amount\nof philological and botanical ability, and scores of editions of his\nworks, many of them nobly illustrated, poured out of the presses of the\nsixteenth and seventeenth centuries.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 9\n\u03a3\u039f\u0393\u039a\u039f\u03a3 \u03a4\u03a1\u03a5\u03a6\u0395\u03a1\u039f\u03a3 {SOGKOS TRYPHEROS} = _Crepis paludosa_, _M\u0153n._]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 10\n\u0393\u0395\u03a1\u0391\u039d\u0399\u039f\u039d {GERANION} = _Geranium pyrenaicum_, _L._\n\nFifth-century drawings from JULIANA ANICIA M.S., copied from originals\nof first century B. C. (?)]\n\n    [39] The manuscript in question is Med. Graec. 1 at what was the\n    Royal Library at Vienna. It is known as the _Constantinopolitanus_.\n    After the war it was taken to St. Mark's at Venice, but either has\n    been or is about to be restored to Vienna. A facsimile of this grand\n    manuscript was published by Sijthoff, Leyden, 1906.\n\n    [40] The lady in question was Juliana Anicia, daughter of Anicius\n    Olybrius, Emperor of the West in 472, and his wife Placidia,\n    daughter of Valentinian III. Juliana was betrothed in 479 by the\n    Eastern Emperor Zeno to Theodoric the Ostrogoth, but was married,\n    probably in 487 when the manuscript was presented to her, to\n    Areobindus, a high military officer under the Byzantine Emperor\n    Anastasius.\n\n    [41] The importance of this manuscript as well as the position of\n    Dioscorides as medical botanist is discussed by Charles Singer in an\n    article 'Greek Biology and the Rise of Modern Biology', _Studies in\n    the History and Method of Science_, vol. ii, Oxford, 1921.\n\n    [42] This manuscript is at the University Library at Leyden, where\n    it is numbered Voss Q 9.\n\nBut the greatest biologist of the late Greek period, and indeed one of\nthe greatest biologists of all time, was Claudius Galen of Pergamon (A.\nD. 131-201). Galen devoted himself to medicine from an early age, and in\nhis twenty-first year we hear of him studying anatomy at Smyrna under\nPelops. With the object of extending his knowledge of drugs he early\nmade long journeys to Asia Minor. Later he proceeded to Alexandria,\nwhere he improved his anatomical equipment, and here, he tells us, he\nexamined a human skeleton. It is indeed probable that his direct\npractical acquaintance with human anatomy was limited to the skeleton\nand that dissection of the human body was no longer carried on at\nAlexandria in his time. Thus his physiology and anatomy had to be\nderived mainly from animal sources. He is the most voluminous of all\nancient scientific writers and one of the most voluminous writers of\nantiquity in any department. We are not here concerned with the medical\nmaterial which mainly fills these huge volumes, but only with the\nphysiological views which not only prevailed in medicine until Harvey\nand after, but also governed for fifteen hundred years alike the\nscientific and the popular ideas on the nature and workings of the\nanimal body, and have for centuries been embedded in our speech. A\nknowledge of these physiological views of Galen is necessary for any\nunderstanding of the history of biology and illuminates many literary\nallusions of the Middle Ages and Renaissance.\n\nBetween the foundation of the Alexandrian school and the time of Galen,\nmedicine was divided among a great number of sects. Galen was an\neclectic and took portions of his teaching from many of these schools,\nbut he was also a naturalist of great ability and industry, and knew\nwell the value of the experimental way. Yet he was a somewhat windy\nphilosopher and, priding himself on his philosophic powers, did not\nhesitate to draw conclusions from evidence which was by no means always\nadequate. The physiological system that he thus succeeded in building up\nwe may now briefly consider (fig. 11).\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 11. Illustrating Galen's physiological teaching.]\n\nThe basic principle of life, in the Galenic physiology, is a _spirit_,\n_anima_ or _pneuma_, drawn from the general world-soul in the act of\nrespiration. It enters the body through the _rough artery_ (\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\n\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 {tracheia art\u00earia}, _arteria aspera_ of mediaeval notation), the\norgan known to our nomenclature as the trachea. From this trachea the\npneuma passes to the lung and then, through the _vein-like artery_\n(\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c6\u03bb\u03b5\u03b2\u03c9\u03b4\u03b7\u03c2 {art\u00earia phleb\u00f4d\u00eas}, _arteria venalis_ of mediaeval\nwriters, the pulmonary vein of our nomenclature), to the left ventricle.\nHere it will be best to leave it for a moment and trace the vascular\nsystem along a different route.\n\nIngested food, passing down the alimentary tract, was absorbed as chyle\nfrom the intestine, collected by the portal vessel, and conveyed by it\nto the liver. That organ, the site of the innate heat in Galen's view,\nhad the power of elaborating the chyle into venous blood and of imbuing\nit with a spirit or pneuma which is innate in all living substance, so\nlong as it remains alive, the _natural spirits_ (\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd {pneuma\nphysikon}, _spiritus naturalis_ of the mediaevals). Charged with this,\nand also with the nutritive material derived from the food, the venous\nblood is distributed by the liver through the veins which arise from it\nin the same way as the arteries from the heart. These veins carry\nnourishment and _natural spirits_ to all parts of the body. _Iecur fons\nvenarum_, the liver as the source of the veins, remained through the\ncenturies the watchword of the Galenic physiology. The blood was held to\nebb and flow continuously in the veins during life.\n\nNow from the liver arose one great vessel, the hepatic vein, from\ndivision of which the others were held to come off as branches. Of\nthese branches, one, our _common vena cava_, entered the right side of\nthe heart. For the blood that it conveyed to the heart there were two\nfates possible. The greater part remained awhile in the ventricle,\nparting with its impurities and vapours, exhalations of the organs,\nwhich were carried off by the _artery-like vein_ (\u03c6\u03bb\u03b5\u03c0\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03b4\u03b7\u03c2\n{phleps art\u00eari\u00f4d\u00eas}, the mediaeval _vena arterialis_, our pulmonary\nartery) to the lung and then exhaled to the outer air. These impurities\nand vapours gave its poisonous and suffocating character to the breath.\nHaving parted thus with its impurities, the venous blood ebbed back\nagain from the right ventricle into the venous system. But for a small\nfraction of the venous blood that entered the right ventricle another\nfate was reserved. This small fraction of venous blood, charged still\nwith the _natural spirits_ derived from the liver, passed through minute\nchannels in the septum between the ventricles and entered the left\nchamber. Arrived there, it encountered the external pneuma and became\nthereby elaborated into a higher form of spirit, the _vital spirits_\n(\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b6\u03c9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd {pneuma z\u00f4tikon}, _spiritus vitalis_), which is\ndistributed together with blood by the arterial system to various parts\nof the body. In the arterial system it also ebbed and flowed, and might\nbe seen and felt to pulsate there.\n\nBut among the great arterial vessels that sent forth arterial blood thus\ncharged with vital spirits were certain vessels which ascended to the\nbrain. Before reaching that organ they divided up into minute channels,\nthe _rete mirabile_ (\u03c0\u03bb\u03b5\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 {plegma megiston thauma}),\nand passing into the brain became converted by the action of that organ\ninto a yet higher type of spirits, the _animal spirits_ (\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\n{pneuma psychikon}, _spiritus animalis_), an ethereal substance\ndistributed to the various parts of the body by the structures known\nto-day as nerves, but believed then to be hollow channels. The three\nfundamental faculties (\u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 {dynameis}), the _natural_, the _vital_,\nand the _animal_, which brought into action the corresponding functions\nof the body, thus originated as an expression of the primal force or\npneuma.\n\nThis physiology, we may emphasize, is not derived from an investigation\nof human anatomy. In the human brain there is no _rete mirabile_, though\nsuch an organ is found in the calf. In the human liver there is no\n_hepatic vein_, though such an organ is found in the dog. Dogs, calves,\npigs, bears, and, above all, Barbary apes were freely dissected by Galen\nand were the creatures from which he derived his physiological ideas.\nMany of Galen's anatomical and physiological errors are due to his\nattributing to one creature the structures found in another, a fact that\nonly very gradually dawned on the Renaissance anatomists.\n\nThe whole knowledge possessed by the world in the department of\nphysiology from the third to the seventeenth century, nearly all the\nbiological conceptions till the thirteenth, and most of the anatomy and\nmuch of the botany until the sixteenth century, all the ideas of the\nphysical structure of living things throughout the Middle Ages, were\ncontained in a small number of these works of Galen. The biological\nworks of Aristotle and Theophrastus lingered precariously in a few rare\nmanuscripts in the monasteries of the East; the total output of hundreds\nof years of Alexandrian and Pergamenian activities was utterly\ndestroyed; the Ionian biological works, of which a sample has by a\nmiracle survived, were forgotten; but these vast, windy, ill-arranged\ntreatises of Galen lingered on. Translated into Latin, Syriac, Arabic,\nand Hebrew, they saturated the intellectual world of the Middle Ages.\nCommented on by later Greek writers, who were themselves in turn\ntranslated into the same list of languages, they were yet again served\nup under the names of such Greek writers as Oribasius, Paul of Aegina,\nor Alexander of Tralles.\n\nWhat is the secret of the vitality of these Galenic biological\nconceptions? The answer can be given in four words. _Galen is a\nteleologist_; and a teleologist of a kind whose views happened to fit in\nwith the prevailing theological attitude of the Middle Ages, whether\nChristian, Moslem, or Jewish. According to him everything which exists\nand displays activity in the human body originates in and is formed by\nan intelligent being and on an intelligent plan, so that the organ in\nstructure and function is the result of that plan. 'It was the Creator's\ninfinite wisdom which selected the best means to attain his beneficent\nends, and it is a proof of His omnipotence that he created every good\nthing according to His design, and thereby fulfilled His will.'[43]\n\n    [43] A good instance of Galen's teleological point of view is\n    afforded by his classical description of _the hand_ in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\n    \u03c7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri chreias t\u00f4n en anthr\u00f4pou\n    s\u00f4mati mori\u00f4n}, _On the uses of the parts of the body of man_, i. 1.\n    This passage is available in English in a tract by Thomas Bellott,\n    London, 1840.\n\nAfter Galen there is a thousand years of darkness, and biology ceases to\nhave a history. The mind of the Dark Ages turned towards theology, and\nsuch remains of Neoplatonic philosophy as were absorbed into the\nreligious system were little likely to be of aid to the scientific\nattitude. One department of positive knowledge must of course persist.\nMen still suffered from the infirmities of the flesh and still sought\nrelief from them. But the books from which that advice was sought had\nnothing to do with general principles nor with knowledge as such. They\nwere the most wretched of the treatises that still masqueraded under the\nnames of Hippocrates and Galen, mostly mere formularies, antidotaries,\nor perhaps at best symptom lists. And, when the depression of the\nwestern intellect had passed its worst, there was still no biological\nmaterial on which it could be nourished.\n\nThe prevailing interest of the barbarian world, at last beginning to\nsettle into its heritage of antiquity, was with Logic. Of Aristotle\nthere survived in Latin dress only the _Categories_ and the _De\ninterpretatione_, the merciful legacy of Boethius, the last of the\nphilosophers. Had a translation of Aristotle's _Historia animalium_ or\n_De generatione animalium_ survived, had a Latin version of the\nHippocratic work _On generation_ or of the treatises of Theophrastus _On\nplants_ reached the earlier Middle Ages, the whole mental history of\nEurope might have been different and the rediscovery of nature might\nhave been antedated by centuries. But this was a change of heart for\nwhich the world had long to wait; something much less was the earliest\nbiological gift of Greece. The gift, when it came, came in two forms,\none of which has not been adequately recognized, but both are equally\nher legacy. These two forms are, firstly, the well-known work of the\nearly translators and, secondly, the tardily recognized work of certain\nschools of minor art.\n\nThe earliest biological treatises to become accessible in the west were\nrendered not from Greek but from Arabic.[44] The first of them was\nperhaps the treatise \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03c5\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 {peri my\u00f4n kin\u00ease\u00f4s}, _On\nmovement of muscles_ of Galen, a work which contains more than its title\nsuggests and indeed sets forth much of the Galenic physiological system.\nIt was rendered into Latin from the Arabic of Joannitius (Hunain ibn\nIshaq, 809-73), probably about the year 1200, by one Mark of Toledo. It\nattracted little attention, but very soon after biological works of\nAristotle began to become accessible. The first was probably the\nfragment _On plants_. The Greek original of this is lost, and besides\nthe Latin, only an Arabic version of a former Arabic translation of a\nSyriac rendering of a Greek commentary is now known! Such a work\nappeared from the hand of a translator known as Alfred the Englishman\nabout 1220 or a little later. Neither it nor another work from the same\ntranslator, _On the motion of the heart_, which sought to establish the\nprimacy of that organ on Aristotelian grounds, can be said to contain\nany of the spirit of the master.[45]\n\n    [44] The early European translations from the Arabic are tabulated\n    with unparalleled learning by M. Steinschneider, 'Die Europ\u00e4ischen\n    Uebersetzungen aus dem Arabischen bis Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts',\n    in the _Sitzungsberichte der kais. Akad. der Wissenschaften in\n    Wien_, cxlix and cli, Vienna, 1904 and 1905.\n\n    [45] C. H. Haskins, 'The reception of Arabic science in England,'\n    _English Historical Review_, London, 1915, p. 56.\n\nA little better than these is the work of the wizard Michael the Scot\n(1175?-1234?). Roger Bacon tells us that Michael in 1230 'appeared [at\nOxford], bringing with him the works of Aristotle in natural history and\nmathematics, with wise expositors, so that the philosophy of Aristotle\nwas magnified among the Latins'.[46] Scott produced his work _De\nanimalibus_ about this date and he included in it the three great\nbiological works of Aristotle, all rendered from an inferior Arabic\nversion.[47] Albertus Magnus (1206-80) had not as yet a translation\ndirect from the Greek to go upon for his great commentary on the\n_History of animals_, but he depended on Scott. The biological works of\nAristotle were rendered into Latin direct from the Greek in the year\n1260 probably by William of Moerbeke.[48] Such translations, appearing\nin the full scholastic age when everything was against direct\nobservation, cannot be said to have fallen on a fertile ground. They\npresented an ordered account of nature and a good method of\ninvestigation, but those were gifts to a society that knew little of\ntheir real value.[49]\n\n    [46] Roger Bacon, _Opus majus_, edited by J. H. Bridges, 3 vols.,\n    London, 1897-1900. Vol. iii, p. 66.\n\n    [47] On the Aristotelian translations of Scott see A. H. Querfeld,\n    _Michael Scottus und seine Schrift, De secretis naturae_, Leipzig,\n    1919; and C. H. Haskins, 'Michael Scot and Frederick II' in _Isis_,\n    ii. 250, Brussels, 1922.\n\n    [48] J. G. Schneider, _Aristotelis de animalibus historiae_,\n    Leipzig, 1811, p. cxxvi. L. Dittmeyer, _Guilelmi Moerbekensis\n    translatio commentationis Aristotelicae de generatione animalium_,\n    Dillingen, 1915. L. Dittmeyer, _De animalibus historia_, Leipzig,\n    1907.\n\n    [49] The subject of the Latin translations of Aristotle is traversed\n    by A. and C. Jourdain, _Recherches critiques sur l'\u00e2ge des\n    traductions latines d'Aristote_, 2nd ed., Paris, 1843; M. Grabmann,\n    _Forschungen uber die lateinischen Aristoteles Ubersetzungen des\n    XIII. Jahrhunderts_, M\u00fcnster i/W., 1916; and F. W\u00fcstenfeld, _Die\n    Ubersetzungen arabischer Werke in das Lateinische seit dem XI.\n    Jahrhundert_, G\u00f6ttingen, 1877.\n\nYet the advent of these texts was coincident with a returning desire to\nobserve nature. Albert, with all his scholasticism, was no contemptible\nnaturalist. He may be said to have begun first-hand plant study in\nmodern times so far as literary records are concerned. His book _De\nvegetabilibus_ contains excellent observations, and he is worthy of\ninclusion among the fathers of botany. In his vast treatise _De\nanimalibus_, hampered as he is by his learning and verbosity, he shows\nhimself a true observer and one who has absorbed something of the spirit\nof the great naturalist to whose works he had devoted a lifetime of\nstudy and on which he professes to be commenting. We see clearly the\nleaven of the Aristotelian spirit working, though Albert is still a\nschoolman. We may select for quotation a passage on the generation of\nfish, a subject on which some of Aristotle's most remarkable\ndescriptions remained unconfirmed till modern times. These descriptions\nimpressed Albert in the same way as they do the modern naturalist. To\nthose who know nothing of the stimulating power of the Aristotelian\nbiological works, Albert's description of the embryos of fish and his\naccurate distinction of their mode of development from that of birds, by\nthe absence of an allantoic membrane in the one and its presence in the\nother, must surely be startling. Albert depends on Aristotle--a\nthird-hand version of Aristotle--but does not slavishly follow him.\n\n'Between the mode of development (_anathomiam generationis_) of birds'\nand fishes' eggs there is this difference: during the development of the\nfish the second of the two veins which extend from the heart [as\ndescribed by Aristotle in birds] does not exist. For we do not find the\nvein which extends to the outer covering in the eggs of birds which some\nwrongly call the navel because it carries the blood to the exterior\nparts; but we do find the vein that corresponds to the yolk vein of\nbirds, for this vein imbibes the nourishment by which the limbs\nincrease.... In fishes as in birds, channels extend from the heart first\nto the head and the eyes, and first in them appear the great upper\nparts. As the growth of the young fish increases the albumen decreases,\nbeing incorporated into the members of the young fish, and it disappears\nentirely when development and formation are complete. The beating of\nthe heart ... is conveyed to the lower part of the belly, carrying pulse\nand life to the inferior members.\n\n'While the young [fish] are small and not yet fully developed they have\nveins of great length which take the place of the navel-string, but as\nthey grow and develop, these shorten and contract into the body towards\nthe heart, as we have said about birds. The young fish and the eggs are\nenclosed and in a covering, as are the eggs and young of birds. This\ncovering resembles the dura mater [of the brain], and beneath it is\nanother [corresponding therefore to the pia mater of the brain] which\ncontains the young animal and nothing else.'[50]\n\n    [50] The enormous _De Animalibus_ of Albert of Cologne is now\n    available in an edition by H. Stadler, _Albertus Magnus De\n    Animalibus Libri XXVI nach der c\u00f6lner Urschrift_, 2 vols., M\u00fcnster\n    i/W., 1916-21. The quotation is translated from vol. i, pp. 465-6.\n\nIn the next century Conrad von Megenberg (1309-98) produced his _Book of\nNature_, a complete work on natural history, the first of the kind in\nthe vernacular, founded on Latin versions, now rendered direct from the\nGreek, of the Aristotelian and Galenic biological works. It is well\nordered and opens with a systematic account of the structure and\nphysiology of man as a type of the animal creation, which is then\nsystematically described and followed by an account of plants. Conrad,\nthough guided by Aristotle, uses his own eyes and ears, and with him and\nAlbert the era of direct observation has begun.[51]\n\n    [51] Conrad's work is conveniently edited by H. Schultz, _Das Buch\n    der Natur von Conrad von Megenberg, die erste Naturgeschichte in\n    deutscher Sprache, in Neu-Hochdeutsche Sprache bearbeitet_,\n    Greifswald, 1897. Conrad's work is based on that of Thomas of\n    Cantimpr\u00e9 (1201-70).\n\nBut there was another department in which the legacy of Greece found an\neven earlier appreciation. For centuries the illustrations to herbals\nand bestiaries had been copied from hand to hand, continuing a tradition\nthat had its rise with Greek artists of the first century B. C. But\ntheir work, copied at each stage without reference to the object, moved\nconstantly farther from resemblance to the original. At last the\nillustrations became little but formal patterns, a state in which they\nremained in some late copies prepared as recently as the sixteenth\ncentury. But at a certain period a change set in, and the artist, no\nlonger content to rely on tradition, appeals at last to nature. This new\nstirring in art corresponds with the new stirring in letters, the\nArabian revival--itself a legacy of Greece, though sadly deteriorated in\ntransit--that gave rise to scholasticism. In much of the beautiful\ncarved and sculptured work of the French cathedrals the new movement\nappears in the earlier part of the thirteenth century. At such a place\nas Chartres we see the attempt to render plants and animals faithfully\nin stone as early as 1240 or before. In the easier medium of parchment\nthe same tendency appears even earlier. When once it begins the process\nprogresses slowly until the great recovery of the Greek texts in the\nfifteenth century, when it is again accelerated.\n\nDuring the sixteenth century the energy of botanists and zoologists was\nlargely absorbed in producing most carefully annotated and illustrated\neditions of Dioscorides and Theophrastus and accounts of animals,\nhabits, and structure that were intended to illustrate the writings of\nAristotle, while the anatomists explored the bodies of man and beast to\nconfirm or refute Galen. The great monographs on birds, fishes, and\nplants of this period, ostensibly little but commentaries on Pliny,\nAristotle, and Dioscorides, represent really the first important efforts\nof modern times at a natural history. They pass naturally into the\nencyclopaedias of the later sixteenth century, and these into the\nphysiological works of the seventeenth. Aristotle was never a dead hand\nin Biology as he was in Physics, and this for the reason that he was a\ngreat biologist but was not a great physicist.\n\nWith the advance of the sixteenth century the works of Aristotle, and to\na less extent those of Dioscorides and Galen, became the great stimulus\nto the foundation of a new biological science. Matthioli (1520-77), in\nhis commentary on Dioscorides (first edition 1544), which was one of the\nfirst works of its type to appear in the vernacular, made a number of\nfirst-hand observations on the habits and structure of plants that is\nstartling even to a modern botanist. About the same time Galenic\nphysiology, expressed also in numerous works in the vulgar tongue and\nrousing the curiosity of the physicians, became the clear parent of\nmodern physiology and comparative anatomy. But, above all, the\nAristotelian biological works were fertilizers of the mind. It is very\ninteresting to watch a fine observer such as Fabricius ab Acquapendente\n(1537-1619) laying the foundations of modern embryology in a splendid\nseries of first-hand observations, treating his own great researches\nalmost as a commentary on Aristotle. What an impressive contrast to the\narid physics of the time based also on Aristotle! 'My purpose', says\nFabricius, 'is to treat of the formation of the foetus in every animal,\nsetting out from that which proceeds from the egg: for this ought to\ntake precedence of all other discussion of the subject, both because it\nis not difficult to make out Aristotle's view of the matter, and because\nhis treatise on the Formation of the Foetus from the egg is by far the\nfullest, and the subject is by much the most extensive and\ndifficult.'[52]\n\n    [52] Hieronimo Fabrizio of Acquapendente, _De formato foetu_, Padua,\n    1604.\n\nThe industrious and careful Fabricius, with a wonderful talent for\nobservation lit not by his own lamp but by that of Aristotle, bears a\nrelation to the master much like that held by Aristotle's pupil in the\nflesh, Theophrastus. The works of the two men, Fabricius and\nTheophrastus, bear indeed a resemblance to each other. Both rely on the\nsame group of general ideas, both progress in much the same ordered calm\nfrom observation to observation, both have an inspiration which is\nefficient and stimulating but below the greatest, both are enthusiastic\nand effective as investigators of fact, but timid and ineffective in\ndrawing conclusions.\n\nBut Fabricius was more happy in his pupils than Theophrastus, for we may\nwatch the same Aristotelian ideas fermenting in the mind of Fabricius's\nsuccessor, the greatest biologist since Aristotle himself, William\nHarvey (1578-1657).[53] This writer's work _On generation_ is a careful\ncommentary on Aristotle's work on the same topic, but it is a commentary\nnot in the old sense but in the spirit of Aristotle himself. Each\nstatement is weighed and tested in the light of experience, and the\nyounger naturalist, with all his reverence for Aristotle, does not\nhesitate to criticize his conclusions. He exhibits an independence of\nthought, an ingenuity in experiment, and a power of deduction that\nplaces his treatise as the middle term of the three great works on\nembryology of which the other members are those of Aristotle and Karl\nErnst von Baer (1796-1876).[54]\n\n    [53] William Harvey, _Exercitationes de generatione animalium_,\n    London, 1651.\n\n    [54] Karl Ernst von Baer, _Ueber die Entwickelungsgeschichte der\n    Thiere_, K\u00f6nigsberg, 1828-37.\n\nWith the second half of the seventeenth century and during a large part\nof the eighteenth the biological works of Aristotle attracted less\nattention. The battle against the Aristotelian physics had been fought\nand won, but with them the biological works of Aristotle unjustly passed\ninto the shadow that overhung all the idols of the Middle Ages.\n\nThe rediscovery of the Aristotelian biology is a modern thing. The\ncollection of the vast wealth of living forms absorbed the energies of\nthe generations of naturalists from Ray (1627-1705) and Willoughby\n(1635-72) to R\u00e9aumur (1683-1757) and Linnaeus (1707-1778) and beyond to\nthe nineteenth century. The magnitude and fascination of the work seems\nalmost to have excluded general ideas. With the end of this period and\nthe advent of a more philosophical type of naturalist, such as Cuvier\n(1769-1832) and members of the Saint-Hilaire family, Aristotle came\nagain to his own. Since the dawn of the nineteenth century, and since\nnaturalists have been in a position to verify the work of Aristotle, his\nreputation as a naturalist has continuously risen. Johannes M\u00fcller\n(1801-58), Richard Owen (1804-92), George Henry Lewes (1817-78), William\nOgle (1827-1912) are a few of the long line of those who have derived\ndirect inspiration from his biological work. With improved modern\nmethods of investigation the problems of generation have absorbed a\nlarge amount of biological attention, and interest has become specially\nconcentrated on Aristotle's work on that topic which is perhaps, at the\nmoment, more widely read than any biological treatise, ancient or\nmodern, except the works of Darwin. That great naturalist wrote to Ogle\nin 1882: 'From quotations I had seen I had a high notion of Aristotle's\nmerits, but I had not the most remote notion what a wonderful man he\nwas. Linnaeus and Cuvier have been my two gods, though in very different\nways, but they were mere schoolboys to old Aristotle.'\n\nCHARLES SINGER.\n\n\n\n\nMEDICINE\n\n     \u1f29\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b5\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9 \u0394\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd \u03c6\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\n     \u03c4\u03b5\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd \u03b1\u03b4\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b9\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03c7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\n     \u03b1\u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd, \u1f51\u03b3\u03b9\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2.\n\n    {H\u00earophilos de en t\u00f4 Diait\u00eatik\u00f4 kai sophian ph\u00easin anepideikton kai\n    techn\u00ean ad\u00ealon kai ischyn anag\u00f4niston kai plouton achreion kai logon\n    adynaton, hygieias apous\u00eas.}\n\n\nHerophilos, a Greek philosopher and physician (_c._ 300 B. C.), has\ntruly written 'that Science and Art have equally nothing to show, that\nStrength is incapable of effort, Wealth useless, and Eloquence powerless\nif Health be wanting'.[55] All peoples therefore have had their methods\nof treating those departures from health that we call disease, and among\npeoples of higher culture such methods have been reduced in most cases\nto something resembling a system. In antiquity, as now, a variety of\nsuch systems were in vogue, and those nations who practised the art of\nwriting from an early date have left considerable records of their\nmedical methods and doctrines. We may thus form a fairly good idea of\nthe medical principles of the Mesopotamian, the Egyptian, the Iranian,\nthe Indian, and the Chinese civilizations. Much in these systems, as in\nthe medical procedure of more primitive tribes, was based upon some\ntheory of disease which fitted in with a larger theory of the nature of\nevil. Of these theories the commonest was and is the demonic, the view\nthat regards deviation from the normal state of health as due either to\nthe attacks of supernatural beings or to their actual entry into the\nbody of the sufferer. A medical system based on such a view is\nsusceptible of great elaboration in a higher civilization, but not being\nfounded on observation is hardly capable of indefinite development, for\na point must ultimately be reached at which the mind recoils from\ncomplex conclusions far remote from observed phenomena. The medicine of\nthe ancient and settled civilization of such a people as the\nAssyro-Babylonians, for instance, of which substantial traces have been\nrecovered, is hardly, if at all, more effective, though far more\nsystematized, than that of many a wild and unlettered tribe that may be\nobserved to-day. Of such medicine as this we may give an account, but we\ncan hardly write a _history_. We cannot establish those elements of\ncontinuity and of development from which alone history can be\nconstructed.\n\n    [55] The works of Herophilus are lost. This fine passage has been\n    preserved for us by Sextus Empiricus, a third-century physician, in\n    his \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03b8\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03c1\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9 {pros tois math\u00eamatikous\n    aitirr\u00eatikoi}, which is in essence an attack on all positive\n    philosophy. It is an entertaining fact that we should have to go to\n    such a work for remains of the greatest anatomist of antiquity. The\n    passage is in the section directed against ethical writers, xi. 50.\n\nIt is the distinction of the Greeks alone among the nations of antiquity\nthat they practised a system of medicine based not on theory but on\nobservation accumulated systematically as time went on. The claim can be\nmade for the Greeks that some at least among them were deflected by no\ntheory, were deceived by no theurgy, were hampered by no tradition in\ntheir search for the facts of disease and in their attempts at\ninterpreting its phenomena. Only the Greeks among the ancients could\nlook on their healers as _physicians_ (= naturalists, \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {physis} =\nnature), and that word itself stands as a lasting reminder of their\nachievement.[56]\n\n    [56] The word \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 {physikos}, though it passed over into Latin\n    (Cicero) with the meaning _naturalist_, acquired the connotation of\n    _sorcerer_ among the later Greek writers. Perhaps the word\n    _physicianus_ was introduced to make a distinction from the\n    charm-mongering _physicus_. In later Latin _physicus_ and _medicus_\n    are almost always interchangeable.\n\nAt a certain stage in the history of the Western world--the exact point\nin time may be disputed but the event is admitted by all--men turned to\nexplore the treasures of the ancient wisdom and the whole mass of Greek\nmedical learning was gradually laid before the student. That mass\ncontained much dross, material that survived from early as from late\nGreek times which was hardly, if at all, superior to the debased\ncompositions that circulated in the name of medicine in the middle\ncenturies. But the recovered Greek medical writings also contained some\nmaterial of the purest and most scientific type, and that material and\nthe spirit in which it was written, form the debt of modern medicine to\nantiquity.\n\nIt is a debt the value of which cannot be exaggerated. The physicians of\nthe revival of learning, and for long after, doubtless pinned their\nfaith too much to the written word of their Greek forbears and sought to\nimprison the free spirit of Hippocrates and Galen in the rigid wall of\ntheir own rediscovered texts. The great medical pioneers of a somewhat\nlater age, enraged by this attempt, the real nature of which was largely\nhidden from them, not infrequently revolted and rightly revolted against\nthe bondage to the Greeks in which they had been brought up. Yet it is\nsure that these modern discoverers were the true inheritors of the\nGreeks. Without Herophilus we should have had no Harvey and the rise of\nphysiology might have been delayed for centuries; had Galen's works not\nsurvived, Vesalius would never have reconstructed Anatomy, and Surgery\ntoo might have stayed behind with her laggard sister, Medicine; the\nHippocratic collection was the necessary and acknowledged basis for the\nwork of the greatest of modern clinical observers, Thomas Sydenham, and\nthe teaching of Hippocrates and of his school is the substantial basis\nof instruction in the wards of a modern hospital. In the pages which\nfollow we propose therefore to review the general character of medical\nknowledge in the best Greek period and to consider briefly how much of\nthat great heritage remained accessible to the earlier modern\nphysicians. The reader will thus be able to form some estimate of the\ndegree to which the legacy has been passed on to our own times.\n\nIt is evident that among such a group of peoples as the Greeks, varying\nin state of civilization, in mental power, in geographical and economic\nposition and in general outlook, the practice of medicine can have been\nby no means uniform. Without any method of centralizing medical\neducation and standardizing teaching there was a great variety of\ndoctrines and of practice in vogue among them, and much of this was on a\nlow level of folk custom. Such lower grade material of Greek origin has\ncome down to us in abundance, though much of it, curiously enough, from\na later time. But the overwhelming mass of earlier Greek medical\nliterature sets forth for us a pure scientific effort to observe and to\nclassify disease, to make generalizations from carefully collected data,\nto explain the origin of disease on rational grounds, and to apply\nremedies, when possible, on a reasoned basis. We may thus rest fairly\nwell assured that, despite serious and irreparable losses, we are still\nin possession of some of the very finest products of the Greek medical\nintellect.\n\nThere is ample evidence that the Greeks inherited, in common with many\nother peoples of Mediterranean and Asiatic origin, a whole system of\nmagical or at least non-rational pharmacy and medicine from a remoter\nancestry. Striking parallels can be drawn between these folk elements\namong the Greeks and the medical systems of the early Romans, as well as\nwith the medicine of the Indian Vedas, of the ancient Egyptians, and of\nthe earliest European barbarian writings. It is thus reasonable to\nsuppose that these elements, when they appear in later Greek writings,\nrepresent more primitive folk elements working up, under the influence\nof social disintegration and consequent mental deterioration, through\nthe upper strata of the literate Greek world. But with these elements,\nintensely interesting to the anthropologist, the psychologist, the\nethnologist, and to the historian of religion, we are not here greatly\nconcerned. Important as they are, they constitute no part of the special\nclaim of the Greek people to distinction, but rather aid us in uniting\nthe Greek mentality with that of other kindred peoples. Here we shall\nrather discuss the course of Greek scientific medicine proper, the type\nof medical doctrine and practice, capable of development in the proper\nsense of the word, that forms the basis of our modern system. We are\nconcerned, in fact, with the earliest evolutionary medicine.\n\nWe need hardly discuss the first origins of Greek Medicine. The material\nis scanty and the conclusions somewhat doubtful and perhaps premature,\nfor the discovery of a considerable fragment of the historical work of\nMenon, a pupil of Aristotle, containing a description of the views of\nsome of the precursors of the Hippocratic school, renews a hope that\nmore extended investigation may yield further information as to the\nsources and nature of the earliest Greek medical writings.[57] The study\nof Mesopotamian star-lore has linked it up with early Greek astronomical\nscience. The efforts of cuneiform scholars have not, however, been\nequally successful for medicine, and on the whole the general tendency\nof modern research is to give less weight to Mesopotamian and more to\nEgyptian sources than had previously been admitted; thus very recently\nan Egyptian medical papyrus of about 1700 B. C. has been described which\nbears a distinct resemblance to some of the Hippocratic treatises.[58] A\nnumber of drugs, too, habitually used by the Greeks, such as\n_Andropogon_, _Cardamoms_, and _Sesame orientalis_, are of Indian\norigin. There are also the Minoan cultures to be considered, and though\nour knowledge is not yet sufficient to speak of the heritage that Greek\nmedicine may or may not have derived from that source, it seems not\nimprobable that Greek hygiene may here owe a debt.[59] Omitting,\ntherefore, this early epoch, we pass direct to the later period,\nbetween the sixth and fourth centuries, from which documents have\nactually come down to us.\n\n    [57] This fragment has been published in vol. iii, part 1, of the\n    _Supplementum Aristotelicum_ by H. Diels as _Anonymi Londinensis ex\n    Aristotelis Iatricis Menonis et Aliis Medicis Eclogae_, Berlin,\n    1893. See also H. Bekh and F. Sp\u00e4t, _Anonymus Londinensis, Auszuge\n    eines Unbekannten aus Aristoteles-Menons Handbuch der Medizin_,\n    Berlin, 1896.\n\n    [58] As we go to press there appears a preliminary account of the\n    very remarkable Edwin Smith papyrus, see J. H. Breasted in _Recueil\n    d'\u00e9tudes egyptologiques d\u00e9di\u00e9es \u00e0 la m\u00e9moire de Champollion_, Paris\n    1922, and _New York Historical Society Bulletin_, 1922.\n\n    [59] It is tempting, also, to connect the Asclepian snake cult with\n    the prominence of the serpent in Minoan religion.\n\nThe earliest medical school of which we have definite information is\nthat of Cnidus, a Lacedaemonian colony in Asiatic Doris. Its origin may\nperhaps reach back to the seventh century B. C. We have actual records\nthat the teachers of Cnidus were accustomed to collect systematically\nthe phenomena of disease, of which they had produced a very complex\nclassification, and we probably possess also several of their actual\nworks. The physicians of Cos, their only contemporary critics whose\nwritings have survived, considered that the Cnidian physicians paid too\nmuch attention to the actual sensations of the patient and to the\nphysical signs of the disease. The most important of the Cnidian\ndoctrines were drawn up in a series of _Sentences_ or Aphorisms, and\nthese, it appears, inculcated a treatment along Egyptian lines of the\nsymptom or at most the disease, rather than the patient, a statement\nborne out by the contents of the gynaecological works of probable\nCnidian origin included in the so-called 'Hippocratic Collection'. A few\nnames of Cnidian physicians have, moreover, come down to us with titles\nof their works, and a later statement that they practised anatomy. There\ncan be little doubt too that the Cnidian school drew also on Persian and\nIndian Medicine.\n\nThe origin of the school of the neighbouring island of Cos was a little\nlater than that of Cnidus and probably dates from the sixth century B.\nC. Of the Coan school, or at least of the general tendencies that it\nrepresented, we have a magnificent and copious literary monument in the\nCorpus Hippocraticum, a collection which was probably put together in\nthe early part of the third century B. C. by a commission of Alexandrian\nscholars at the order of the book-loving Ptolemy Soter (reigned 323-285\nB. C.). The elements of which this collection is composed are of varying\ndates from the sixth to the fourth century B. C., and of varying value\nand origin, but they mainly represent the point of view of physicians\nof the eastern part of the Greek world in the fifth and fourth\ncenturies.\n\nThe most obvious feature, the outstanding element that at once strikes\nthe modern observer in these 'Coan' writings, is the enormous emphasis\nlaid on the actual course of disease. 'It appears to me a most excellent\nthing', so opens one of the greatest of the Hippocratic works, 'for a\nphysician to cultivate _pronoia_.[60] Foreknowing and foretelling in the\npresence of the sick the past, present, and future (of their symptoms)\nand explaining all that the patients are neglecting, he would be\nbelieved to understand their condition, so that men would have\nconfidence to entrust themselves to his care.... Thus he would win just\nrespect and be a good physician. By an earlier forecast in each case he\nwould be more able to tend those aright who have a chance of surviving,\nand by foreseeing and stating who will die, and who will survive, he\nwill escape blame....'[61]\n\n    [60] This word _pronoia_, as Galen explains (\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf \u1f39\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n    \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b3\u03bd\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd {eis to Hippokratous progn\u00f4stikon}, K. xviii, B. p.\n    10), is not used in the philosophic sense, as when we ask whether\n    the universe was made by chance or by _pronoia_, nor is it used\n    quite in the modern sense of _prognosis_, though it includes that\n    too. _Pronoia_ in Hippocrates means knowing things about a patient\n    before you are told them. See E. T. Withington, 'Some Greek medical\n    terms with reference to Luke and Liddell and Scott,' _Proceedings of\n    the Royal Society of Medicine_ (_Section of the History of\n    Medicine_), xiii, p. 124, London, 1920.\n\n    [61] _Prognostics_ 1.\n\nJust as the Cnidians by dividing up diseases according to symptoms\nover-emphasized diagnosis and over-elaborated treatment, so the Coans\nlaid very great force on prognosis and adopted therefore a largely\nexpectant attitude towards diseases. Both Cnidian and Coan physicians\nwere held together by a common bond which was, historically if not\nactually, related to temple worship. Physicians leagued together in the\nname of a god, as were the Asclepiadae, might escape, and did escape,\nthe baser theurgic elements of temple medicine. Of these they were as\ndevoid as a modern Catholic physician might be expected to be free from\nthe absurdities of Lourdes. But the extreme cult of prognosis among the\nCoans may not improbably be traced back to the medical lore of the\ntemple soothsayers whose divine omens were replaced by indications of a\nphysical nature in the patient himself.[62] We are tempted too to link\nit with that process of astronomical and astrological prognosis\npractised in the Mesopotamian civilizations from which Ionia imitated\nand derived so much. Religion had thus the same relation to medicine\nthat it would have with a modern 'religious' medical man as suggesting\nthe motive and determining the general direction of his practice though\nwithout influence on the details and method.\n\n    [62] There is a discussion of the relation of the Asclepiadae to\n    temple practice in an article by E. T. Withington, 'The Asclepiadae\n    and the Priest of Asclepius,' in _Studies in the History and Method\n    of Science_, edited by Charles Singer, vol. ii, Oxford, 1921.\n\nDuring the development of the Coan medical school along these lines in\nthe sixth and fifth centuries, there was going on a most remarkable\nmovement at the very other extreme of the Greek world. Into the course\nand general importance of Sicilian philosophy it is not our place to\nenter, but that extraordinary movement was not without its repercussion\non medical theory and practice. Very important in this direction was\nEmpedocles of Agrigentum (_c._ 500-_c._ 430 B. C.). His view that the\nblood is the seat of the 'innate heat', \u03b5\u03bc\u03c6\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd {emphyton\nthermon}, he took from folk belief--'the blood is the life'--and this\ninnate heat he closely identified with soul. More profitable was his\ndoctrine that breathing takes place not only through what are now known\nas the respiratory passages but also through the pores of the skin. His\nteaching led to a belief in the heart as the centre of the vascular\nsystem and the chief organ of the 'pneuma' which was distributed by the\nblood vessels. This pneuma was equivalent to both soul and life, but it\nwas something more. It was identified with air and breath, and the\npneuma could be seen to rise as shimmering steam from the shed blood of\nthe sacrificial victim--for was not the blood its natural home? There\nwas a pneuma, too, that interpenetrated the universe around us and gave\nit those qualities of life that it was felt to possess. Anaximenes (_c._\n610-_c._ 545 B. C.), an Ionian predecessor of Empedocles, may be said to\nhave defined for us these functions of the pneuma; \u1f41\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u1f21 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u03b7 \u1f21 \u1f21\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b1\n\u03b1\u03b7\u03c1 \u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9 \u1f21\u03bc\u03b1\u03c2, \u1f41\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03b7\u03c1 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b5\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9 {hoion\nh\u00ea psych\u00ea h\u00ea h\u00eametera a\u00ear ousa synkratei h\u00eamas, holon ton kosmon pneuma\nkai a\u00ear periechei}, 'As our soul, being air, sustains us, so pneuma and\nair pervade the whole universe';[63] but it is the speculation of\nEmpedocles himself that came to be regarded as the basis of the\nPneumatic School in Medicine which had later very important\ndevelopments.\n\n    [63] The works of Anaximenes are lost. This phrase of his, however,\n    is preserved by the later writer Aetios.\n\nAnother early member of the Western school who made important\ncontributions to medical doctrine--in which relation alone we need\nconsider him--was Pythagoras of Samos (_c._ 580-_c._490 B. C.). For him\nnumber, as the purest conception, formed the basis of philosophy. Unity\nwas the symbol of perfection and corresponded to God Himself. The\nmaterial universe was represented by 2, and was divided by the number\n12, whence we have 3 worlds and 4 spheres. These in turn, according at\nleast to the later Pythagoreans, give rise to the four elements, earth,\nair, fire, and water--a primary doctrine of medicine and of science\nderived perhaps from ancient Egypt and surviving for more than two\nmillennia. The Pythagoreans taught, too, of the existence of an animal\nsoul, an emanation of the soul of the universe. In all this we may\ndistinguish the germ of that doctrine of the relation of man and\nuniverse, microcosm and macrocosm, which, suppressed as irrelevant in\nthe Hippocratic works, reappears in the Platonic and especially in the\nNeoplatonic writings, and forms a very important dogma in later\nmedicine.\n\nA pupil of Pythagoras and an older contemporary of Empedocles was\nAlcmaeon of Croton (_c._ 500 B. C.), who began to construct a positive\nbasis for medical science by the practice of dissection of animals, and\ndiscovered the optic nerves and the Eustachian tubes. He even extended\nhis researches to Embryology, describing the head of the foetus as the\nfirst part to be developed--a justifiable deduction from appearances.\nAlcmaeon introduced also the doctrine that health depends on harmony,\ndisease on discord of the elements within the body. Curiosity as to the\ndistribution of the vessels was excited by Empedocles and Alcmaeon and\nled to further dissection, and Alcmaeon's pupils Acron (_c._ 480 B. C.)\nand Pausanias (_c._ 480 B. C.), and the later Philistion of Lokri,[64]\nthe contemporary of Plato, all made anatomical investigations.\n\n    [64] For the work of these physicians see especially M. Wellmann,\n    _Fragmentsammlung der griechischen Aerzte_, Bd. I, Berlin, 1901.\n\nThe views of Empedocles, and especially his doctrine that regarded the\nheart as the main site of the pneuma, though rejected by the Coan school\nas a whole, were not without influence on Ionia. Diogenes of Apollonia,\nthe philosopher of pneumatism, a late fifth-century writer who must have\nbeen contemporary with Hippocrates the Great, himself made an\ninvestigation of the blood vessels; and the influence of the same school\nmay be traced in a little work \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03b9\u03b7\u03c2 {peri kardi\u00eas}, _On the\nheart_, which is the best anatomical treatise of the Hippocratic\nCollection. This work describes the aorta and the pulmonary artery as\nwell as the three valves at the root of each of the great vessels, and\nit speaks of experiments to test their validity. It treats of the\npericardium and of the pericardial fluid and perhaps of the musculi\npapillares, and contrasts the thickness of the walls of right and left\nventricles. The author considers that the left ventricle is empty of\nblood--as indeed it is after death--and is the source of the innate heat\nand of the absolute intelligence. These views fit in with the doctrines\nof Empedocles, so that we may perhaps even venture to regard this work\nas a surviving document of the Sicilian school. It is interesting to\nobserve that we have here the first hint of human dissection, for the\nauthor tells us that the hearts of animals may be compared to that of\nman. The distinction of having been the first to write on human anatomy,\nas such, belongs however, probably to a later writer, Diocles, son of\nArchidamus of Carystus, who lived in the fourth century B. C.[65]\n\n    [65] Galen, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03b3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd {peri anatomik\u00f4n\n    encheir\u00ease\u00f4n}, _On anatomical preparations_, \u00a7 1, K. II, p. 282.\n\nWe may now turn to the Hippocratic Corpus as a whole. This collection\nconsists of about 60 or 70 separate works, written at various periods\nand in various states of preservation. At best only a very small\nproportion of them can be attributed to Hippocrates, but the discussion\nof the general question of the 'genuineness' of the works is now\nadmitted to be futile, for it is certain that we have no criteria\nwhatever to determine whether or no a particular work be from the pen of\nthe Father of Medicine, and the most we can ever say of such a treatise\nis that it appears to be of his school and in his spirit. Yet among the\ngreat gifts of this collection to our time and to all time are two which\nstand out above all others, the picture of a man, and the picture of a\nmethod.\n\nThe man is Hippocrates himself. Of the actual details of his life we\nknow next to nothing. His period of greatest activity falls about 400 B.\nC. He seems to have led a wandering life. Born of a long line of\nphysicians in the island of Cos, he exerted his activities in Thrace,\nAbdera, Delos, the Propontis (Cyzicus), Thasos, Thessaly (notably at\nLarissa and Meliboea), Athens, and elsewhere, dying at Larissa in\nextreme old age about the year 377 B. C. He had many pupils, among whom\nwere his two sons Thessalus and Dracon, who also undertook journeys, his\nson-in-law Polybus, of whose works a fragment has been preserved for us\nby Aristotle,[66] together with three other Coans bearing the names\nApollonius, Dexippus, and Praxagoras. This is practically all we know\nof him with certainty. But though this glimpse is very dim and distant,\nyet we cannot exaggerate the influence on the course of medicine and the\nvalue for physicians of all time of the traditional picture that was\nearly formed of him and that may indeed well be drawn again from the\nworks bearing his name. In beauty and dignity that figure is beyond\npraise. Perhaps gaining in stateliness what he loses in clearness,\nHippocrates will ever remain the type of the perfect physician. Learned,\nobservant, humane, with a profound reverence for the claims of his\npatients, but an overmastering desire that his experience shall benefit\nothers, orderly and calm, disturbed only by anxiety to record his\nknowledge for the use of his brother physicians and for the relief of\nsuffering, grave, thoughtful and reticent, pure of mind and master of\nhis passions, this is no overdrawn picture of the Father of Medicine as\nhe appeared to his contemporaries and successors. It is a figure of\ncharacter and virtue which has had an ethical value to medical men of\nall ages comparable only to the influence exerted on their followers by\nthe founders of the great religions. If one needed a maxim to place upon\nthe statue of Hippocrates, none could be found better than that from the\nbook \u03a0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 {Parangeliai}, _Precepts_:\n\n  \u03b7\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b7 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03b9\u03b7 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03c7\u03bd\u03b9\u03b7\n\n  {\u00ean gar par\u00ea philanthr\u00f4pi\u00ea paresti kai philotechni\u00ea}\n\n  'Where the love of man is, there also is love of the Art.'[67]\n\n    [66] _Historia animalium_, iii. 3, where it is ascribed to Polybus.\n    The same passage is, however, repeated twice in the Hippocratic\n    writings, viz. in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 {peri physios anthr\u00f4pou},\n    _On the nature of man_, Littr\u00e9, vi. 58, and in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd\n    \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 {peri oste\u00f4n physios}, _On the nature of bones_, Littr\u00e9, ix.\n    174.\n\n    [67] \u03a0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 {Parangeliai}, \u00a7 6.\n\nThe numerous busts of him which have reached our time are no portraits.\nBut the best of them are something much better and more helpful to us\nthan any portrait. They are idealized representations of the kind of man\na physician should be and was in the eyes of the best and wisest of the\nGreeks.[68]\n\n    [68] See Fig. 1.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 1. HIPPOCRATES\nBritish Museum, second or third century B. C.]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 2. ASCLEPIUS\nBritish Museum, fourth century B. C.]\n\nThe method of the Hippocratic writers is that known to-day as the\n'inductive'. Without the vast scientific heritage that is in our own\nhands, with only a comparatively small number of observations drawn from\nthe Coan and neighbouring schools, surrounded by all manner of bizarre\noriental religions in which no adequate relation of cause and effect was\nrecognized, and above all constantly urged by the exuberant genius\nfor speculation of that Greek people in the midst of whom they lived and\nwhose intellectual temptations they shared, they remain nevertheless,\nfor the most part, patient observers of fact, sceptical of the\nmarvellous and the unverifiable, hesitating to theorize beyond the data,\nyet eager always to generalize from actual experience; calm, faithful,\neffective servants of the sick. There is almost no type of mental\nactivity known to us that was not exhibited by the Greeks and cannot be\nparalleled from their writings; but careful and constant return to\nverification from experience, expressed in a record of actual\nobservations--the habitual method adopted in modern scientific\ndepartments--is rare among them except in these early medical authors.\n\nThe spirit of their practice cannot be better illustrated than by the\nwords of the so-called 'Hippocratic oath'. That document, though of late\ndate in its present form, throws a flood of light on the ethics of Greek\nmedicine.\n\n     'I swear by Apollo the physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and\n     Panacea, invoking all the gods and goddesses to be my witnesses,\n     that I will fulfil this Oath and this written covenant to the best\n     of my power and of my judgment.\n\n     'I will look upon him who shall have taught me this art even as on\n     mine own parents; I will share with him my substance, and supply\n     his necessities if he be in need; I will regard his offspring even\n     as my own brethren, and will teach them this art, if they desire to\n     learn it, without fee or covenant. I will impart it by precept, by\n     lecture and by all other manner of teaching, not only to my own\n     sons but also to the sons of him who has taught me, and to\n     disciples bound by covenant and oath according to the law of the\n     physicians, but to none other.\n\n     'The regimen I adopt shall be for the benefit of the patients to\n     the best of my power and judgment, not for their injury or for any\n     wrongful purpose. I will not give a deadly drug to any one, though\n     it be asked of me, nor will I lead the way in such counsel; and\n     likewise I will not give a woman a pessary to procure abortion. But\n     I will keep my life and my art in purity and holiness. Whatsoever\n     house I enter, I will enter for the benefit of the sick, refraining\n     from all voluntary wrongdoing and corruption, especially seduction\n     of male or female, bond or free. Whatsoever things I see or hear\n     concerning the life of men, in my attendance on the sick or even\n     apart from my attendance, which ought not to be blabbed abroad, I\n     will keep silence on them, counting such things to be as religious\n     secrets.\n\n     'If I fulfil this oath and confound it not, be it mine to enjoy\n     life and art alike, with good repute among all men for all time to\n     come; but may the contrary befall me if I transgress and violate my\n     oath.'[69]\n\n    [69] Translation by Professor Arthur Platt.\n\nRespected equally throughout the ages by Arab, Jew, and Christian, the\noath remains the watchword of the profession of medicine.[70] The\nethical value of such a declaration could not escape the attention even\nof a Byzantine formalist, and it is interesting to observe that in our\noldest Greek manuscript of the Hippocratic text, dating from the tenth\ncentury, this magnificent passage is headed by the words 'from the oath\nof Hippocrates according as it may be sworn by a Christian.'[71]\n\n    [70] It must, however, be admitted that in the Hippocratic\n    collection are breaches of the oath, e. g. in the induction of\n    abortion related in \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5 {peri physios paidiou}.\n    There is evidence, however, that the author of this work was not a\n    medical practitioner.\n\n    [71] Rome Urbinas 64, fo. 116.\n\nWhen we examine the Hippocratic corpus more closely, we discern that not\nonly are the treatises by many hands, but there is not even a uniform\nopinion and doctrine running through them. This is well brought out by\nsome of the more famous of the phrases of this remarkable collection.\nThus a well-known passage from the _Airs, Waters, and Places_ tells us\nthat the Scythians attribute a certain physical disability to a god,\n'but it appears to me', says the author, 'that these affections are just\nas much divine as are all others and that no disease is either more\ndivine or more human than another, but that all are equally divine, for\neach of them has its own nature, and none of them arise without a\nnatural cause.' But, on the other hand, the author of the great work on\n_Prognostics_ advises us that when the physician is called in he must\nseek to ascertain the nature of the affections that he is treating, and\nespecially 'if there be anything divine in the disease, and to learn a\nforeknowledge of this also.'[72] We may note too that this sentence\nalmost immediately precedes what is perhaps the most famous of all the\nHippocratic sentences, the description of what has since been termed the\n_Hippocratic facies_. This wonderful description of the signs of death\nmay be given as an illustration of the habitual attitude of the\nHippocratic school towards prognosis and of the very careful way in\nwhich they noted details:\n\n     'He [the physician] should observe thus in acute diseases: first,\n     the countenance of the patient, if it be like to those who are in\n     health, _and especially if it be like itself, for this would be the\n     best_; but the more unlike to this, the worse it is; such would be\n     these: _sharp nose, hollow eyes, collapsed temples; ears cold,\n     contracted, and their lobes turned out; skin about the forehead\n     rough, distended, and parched; the colour of the whole face\n     greenish or dusky_. If the countenance be so at the beginning of\n     the disease, and if this cannot be accounted for from the other\n     symptoms, inquiry must be made whether he has passed a sleepless\n     night; whether his bowels have been very loose; or whether he is\n     suffering from hunger; and if any of these be admitted the danger\n     may be reckoned as less; and it may be judged in the course of a\n     day and night if the appearance of the countenance proceed from\n     these. But if none of these be said to exist, and the symptoms do\n     not subside in that time, be it known for certain that death is at\n     hand.'[73]\n\n    [72] K\u00fchlewein, i. 79, regards this as an interpolated passage.\n\n    [73] Littr\u00e9, ii. 112; K\u00fchlewein, i. 79. The texts vary: K\u00fchlewein is\n    followed except in the last sentence.\n\nAgain, in the work _On the Art_ [_of Medicine_] we read: 'I hold it to\nbe physicianly to abstain from treating those who are overwhelmed by\ndisease',[74] a prudent if inhumane procedure among a people who might\nregard the doctor's powers as partaking of the nature of magic, and\nperhaps a wise course to follow at this day in some places not very far\nfrom Cos. Yet in the book _On Diseases_ we are advised even in the\npresence of an incurable disease 'to give relief with such treatment as\nis possible'.[75]\n\n    [74] \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5\u03c7\u03bd\u03b7\u03c2 {Peri techn\u00eas}, \u00a7 3.\n\n    [75] \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1' {Peri nous\u00f4n a'}, \u00a7 6.\n\nFurthermore, works by authors of the Hippocratic school stand sometimes\nin a position of direct controversy with each other. Thus in the\ntreatise _On the Heart_ an experiment is set forth which is held to\nprove that a part at least of imbibed fluid passes into the cavity of\nthe lung and thence to the parts of the body, a popular error in\nantiquity which recurs in Plato's _Timaeus_. This view, however, is\nspecifically held to be fallacious by the author of the work _On\nDiseases_, who is supported by a polemical section in the surviving\nMenon fragment.\n\nPassages like these have convinced all students that we have to deal in\nthis collection with a variety of works written at different dates by\ndifferent authors and under different conditions, a state that may be\nwell understood when we reflect that among the Greeks medicine was a\nprogressive study for a far longer period of time than has yet been the\ncase in the Western world. An account of such a collection can therefore\nonly be given in the most general fashion. The system or systems of\nmedicine that we shall thus attempt to describe was in vogue up to the\nAlexandrian period, that is, to the beginning of the third century B. C.\n\nAnatomy and physiology, the basis of our modern system, was still a very\nweak point in the knowledge of the pre-Alexandrians. The surface form of\nthe body was intimately studied in connexion especially with fractures,\nbut there is no evidence in the literature of the period of any closer\nacquaintance with human anatomical structure.[76] The same fact is well\nborne out by Greek Art, for in its noblest period the artist betrays no\nevidence of assistance derived from anatomization. Such evidence is not\nfound until we come to sculpture of Alexandrian date, when the somewhat\nstrained attitudes and exaggerated musculature of certain works of the\nschool of Pergamon suggest that the artist derived hints, if not direct\ninformation, from anatomists who, we know, were active at that time. It\nis not improbable, however, that separate bones, if not complete\nskeletons, were commonly studied earlier, for the surgical works of the\nHippocratic collection, and especially those on fractures and\ndislocations, give evidence of a knowledge of the relations of bones to\neach other and of their natural position in the body which could not be\nobtained, or only obtained with greatest difficulty, without this aid.\n\n    [76] A reference to dissection in the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c1\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd {peri arthr\u00f4n},\n    _On the joints_, \u00a7 1, appears to the present writer to be of\n    Alexandrian date.\n\nThere are in the Hippocratic works a certain number of comparisons\nbetween human and animal structures that would have been made possible\nby surgical operations and occasional accidents. The view has been put\nforward that some anatomical knowledge was derived through the practice\nof augury from the entrails of sacrificial animals. It appears, however,\nimprobable that a system so scientific and so little related to temple\npractice would have had much to learn from these sources, and, moreover,\nsince we know that animals were actually dissected as early as the time\nof Alcmaeon it would be unnecessary to invoke the aid of the priests.\nThe unknown author of the \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd {peri top\u00f4n t\u00f4n\nkata anthr\u00f4pon}, _On the sites of_ [_diseases_] _in man_, a work written\nabout 400 B. C., declares indeed that 'physical structure is the basis\nof medicine', but the formal treatises on anatomy that we possess from\nHippocratic times give the general anatomical standard of the corpus,\nand it is a very disappointing one. The tract _On Anatomy_, though\nprobably of much later date (perhaps _c._ 330 B. C.), is inferior even\nto the treatise _On the Heart_ (perhaps of about 400 B. C.).\n\nPhysiology and Pathology are almost as much in the background as anatomy\nin the Hippocratic collection. As a formal discipline and part of\nmedical education we find no trace of these studies among the\npre-Alexandrian physicians. But the meagreness of the number of\nascertained facts did not prevent much speculation among a people eager\nto seek the causes of things. Of that speculation we learn much from the\nfragments of contemporary medical writers and philosophers, from the\nmedical works of the Alexandrian period, and to some extent from the\nHippocratic writings themselves. But the wiser and more sober among the\nwriters of the Hippocratic corpus were bent on something other than the\ncauses of things. Their pre-occupation was primarily with the suffering\npatient, and the best of them therefore excluded--and we may assume\nconsciously--all but the rarest references to such speculation.\n\nThe general state of health of the body was considered by the\nHippocratists to depend on the distribution of the four elements, earth,\nair, fire, and water, whose mixture (_crasis_) and cardinal properties,\ndryness, warmth, coldness, and moistness, form the body and its\nconstituents. To these correspond the cardinal fluids, blood, phlegm,\nyellow bile and black bile. The fundamental condition of life is the\n_innate heat_, the abdication of which is death. This innate heat is\ngreatest in youth when most fuel is therefore required, but gradually\ndeclines with age. Another necessity for the support of life is the\n_pneuma_ which circulates in the vessels. All this may seem fanciful\nenough, but we may remember that the first half of the nineteenth\ncentury had waned before the doctrine of the humours which had then\nlasted for at least twenty-two centuries became obsolete, and perhaps it\nstill survives in certain modern scientific developments. Moreover, the\nfinest and most characteristic of the Hippocratic works either do not\nmention or but casually refer to these theories which are not essential\nto their main pre-occupation. Their task of observation of symptoms, of\nthe separation of the essentials from the accidents of disease, and of\ngeneralization from experience could go on unaffected by any view of the\nnature of man and of the world. Even treatment, which must almost of\nnecessity be based on _some_ theory of causation, was little deflected\nby a view of elements and humours on which it was impossible to act\ndirectly, while therapeutics was further safeguarded from such influence\nby the doctrine of _Nature as the healer of diseases_, \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2\n\u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9 {nous\u00f4n physeis i\u00eatroi}, the _vis medicatrix naturae_ of the\nlater Latin writers and of the present day.\n\nDiseases are to be cured, in the Hippocratic view, by restoring the\ndisturbed harmony in the relation of the elements and humours. These, in\nfact, tend naturally to an equilibrium and in most cases if left to\nthemselves will be brought to this state by the natural tendency to\nrecovery. The process is known as _pepsis_ or, to give it the Latin\nform, _coctio_, and the turning-point at which the effects of this\nprocess exhibit themselves is the _crisis_, a term which, together with\nsome of its original content, has still a place in medicine. Such a\nturning-point does in fact occur in many diseases, especially those of a\nzymotic character, on certain special days, though undue emphasis was\nlaid by the Greek physicians upon the exact numerical character of the\nevent. It was no unimportant duty of the physician to assist nature by\nbringing his remedies to bear at the critical times. If the crisis is\nwanting, or if the remedies are applied at the wrong moment, the disease\nmay become incurable. But diseases were only immediately or proximately\ncaused by disturbances in the balance or harmony of the humours. This\nwas a mere hypothesis, as the Hippocratists themselves well knew. There\nwere other more remote causes which came into the actual purview of the\nphysician, conditions which he could and did study. Such conditions\nwere, for instance, injudicious modes of life, exposure to climatic\nchanges, advancing age, and the like. Many of these could be directly\ncorrected. But for those that could not there were various therapeutic\nmeasures at hand.\n\nThat human bodies are and normally remain in a state of health, and that\non the whole they tend to recover from disease, is an attitude so\nfamiliar to us to-day that we scarcely need to be reminded of it. We\nlive some twenty-three centuries later than Hippocrates; for some\nsixteen of those centuries the civilized world thought that to retain\nhealth periodical bleedings and potions were necessary; for the last\ncentury or two we have been gradually returning on the Hippocratic\nposition!\n\nThe chief glory of the Hippocratic collection regarded from the clinical\npoint of view is perhaps the actual description of cases. A number of\nthese--forty-two in all--have survived.[77] They are not only unique as\na collection for nearly 2,000 years, but they are still to this day\nmodels of what succinct clinical records should be, clear and short,\nwithout a superfluous word, yet with all that is most essential, and\nexhibiting merely a desire to record the most important facts without\nthe least attempt to prejudge the case. They illustrate to the full the\nGreek genius for seizing on the essential. The writer shows not the\nleast wish to exalt his own skill. He seeks merely to put the data\nbefore the reader for his guidance under like circumstances. It is a\nreflex of the spirit of full honesty in which these men lived and worked\nthat the great majority of the cases are recorded to have died. Two of\nthis remarkable little collection may be given:\n\n     'The woman with quinsy, who lodged with Aristion: her complaint\n     began in the tongue; voice inarticulate; tongue red and parched.\n     _First day_, shivered, then became heated. _Third day_, rigor,\n     acute fever; reddish and hard swelling on both sides of neck and\n     chest; extremities cold and livid; respiration elevated; drink\n     returned by the nose; she could not swallow; alvine and urinary\n     discharges suppressed. _Fourth day_, all symptoms exacerbated.\n     _Fifth day_, she died.'\n\n    [77] They are to be found as an Appendix to Books I and III of the\n    _Epidemics_ and embedded in Book III.\n\nWe probably have here to do with a case of diphtheria. The quinsy, the\nparalysis of the palate leading to return of the food through the nose,\nand the difficulty with speech and swallowing are typical results of\nthis affection which was here complicated by a spread of the septic\nprocesses into the neck and chest, a not uncommon sequela of the\ndisease. The rapid onset of the conditions is rather unusual, but may be\nexplained if we regard the case as a mild and unnoticed diphtheria,\nsubsequently complicated by paralysis and by secondary septic infection,\nfor which reasons she came under observation.\n\n     'In Thasos, the wife of Delearces who lodged on the plain, through\n     sorrow was seized with an acute and shivering fever. From first to\n     last she always wrapped herself up in her bedclothes; kept silent,\n     fumbled, picked, bored and gathered hairs [from the clothes];\n     tears, and again laughter; no sleep; bowels irritable, but passed\n     nothing; when urged drank a little; urine thin and scanty; to the\n     touch the fever was slight; coldness of the extremities. _Ninth\n     day_, talked much incoherently, and again sank into silence.\n     _Fourteenth day_, breathing rare, large, and spaced, and again\n     hurried. _Seventeenth day_, after stimulation of the bowels she\n     passed even drinks, nor could retain anything; totally insensible;\n     skin parched and tense. _Twentieth day_, much talk, and again\n     became composed, then voiceless; respiration hurried. _Twenty-first\n     day_, died. Her respiration throughout was rare and large; she was\n     totally insensible; always wrapped up in her bedclothes; throughout\n     either much talk, or complete silence.'\n\nThis second case is in part a description of low muttering delirium, a\ncommon end of continued fevers such as, for instance, typhoid. The\ndescription closely resembles the condition known now in medicine as the\n'typhoid state'. Incidentally the case contains a reference to a type of\nbreathing common among the dying. The respiration becomes deep and slow,\nas it sinks gradually into quietude and becomes rarer and rarer until it\nseems to cease altogether, and then it gradually becomes more rapid and\nso on alternately. This type of breathing is known to physicians as\n'Cheyne-Stokes' respiration in commemoration of two distinguished Irish\nphysicians of the last century who brought it to the attention of\nmedical men.[78] Recently it has been partially explained on a\nphysiological basis. We may note that there is another and even better\npen-picture of Cheyne-Stokes respiration in the Hippocratic collection.\nIt is in the famous case of 'Philescos who lived by the wall and who\ntook to his bed on the first day of acute fever'. About the middle of\nthe sixth day he died and the physician notes that 'the respiration\nthroughout was _like that of a person recollecting himself_ and was\nlarge and rare'. Cheyne-Stokes breathing is admirably described as 'that\nof a person recollecting himself'.\n\n    [78] John Cheyne (1777-1836) described this type of respiration in\n    the _Dublin Hospital Reports_, 1818, ii, p. 216. An extreme case of\n    this condition had been described by Cheyne's namesake George Cheyne\n    (1671-1743) as the famous 'Case of the Hon. Col. Townshend' in his\n    _English Malady_, London, 1733. William Stokes (1804-78) published\n    his account of Cheyne-Stokes breathing in the _Dublin Quarterly\n    Journal of the Medical Sciences_, 1846, ii, p. 73.\n\nSuch records as these may be contrasted with certain others that have\ncome down from Greek antiquity. We may instance two steles discovered at\nEpidaurus in 1885, bearing accounts of forty-four temple cures. The\nfollowing two are fair samples of the cures there described:\n\n     '_Aristagora of Troizen._ She had tape-worm, and while she slept in\n     the Temple of Asclepius at Troizen, she saw a vision. She thought\n     that, as the god was not present, but was away in Epidaurus, his\n     sons cut off her head, but were unable to put it back again. Then\n     they sent a messenger to Asclepius asking him to come to Troizen.\n     Meanwhile day came, and the priest actually saw her head cut off\n     from the body. The next night Aristagora had a dream. She thought\n     the god came from Epidaurus and fastened her head on to her neck.\n     Then he cut open her belly, and stitched it up again. So she was\n     cured.'\n\n     'A man had an abdominal abscess. He saw a vision, and thought that\n     the god ordered the slaves who accompanied him to lift him up and\n     hold him, so that his abdomen could be cut open. The man tried to\n     get away, but his slaves caught him and bound him. So Asclepius cut\n     him open, rid him of the abscess, and then stitched him up again,\n     releasing him from his bonds. Straightway he departed cured, and\n     the floor of the Abaton was covered with blood.'[79]\n\n    [79] The Epidaurian inscriptions are given by M. Fraenkel in the\n    _Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum_ IV, 951-6, and are discussed by\n    Mary Hamilton (Mrs. Guy Dickins), _Incubation_, St. Andrews, 1906,\n    from whose translation I have quoted. Further inscriptions are given\n    by Cavvadias in the _Archaiologike Ephemeris_, 1918, p. 155 (issued\n    1921).\n\nIn the records of almost all temple cures, a great number of which have\nsurvived in a wide variety of documents, an essential element is the\nprocess of \u03b5\u03b3\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03bc\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {enkoim\u00easis}, _incubation_ or temple sleep,\nusually in a special sleeping-place or Abaton. The process has a close\nparallel in certain modern Greek churches and in places of worship much\nfurther West; there are even traces of it in these islands, and it is\nmore than probable that the Christian practice is descended by direct\ncontinuity from the pagan.[80] The whole character of the temple\ntreatment was--and is--of a kind to suggest to the patient that he\nshould dream of the god, an event which therefore usually takes place.\nSuch treatment by suggestion is applicable only to certain classes of\ndisease and is always liable to fall into the hands of fanatics and\nimpostors. The difficulty that the honest practitioner encounters is\nthat the sufferer, in the nature of the case, can hardly be brought to\nbelieve that his ailment is what in fact it is, a lesion of the mind. It\nis this which gives the miracle-monger his chance.\n\n    [80] We are almost told as much in the apocryphal _Gospel of\n    Nicodemus_, \u00a7 1, a work probably composed about the end of the\n    fourth century.\n\nExamine for a moment the two cases from Epidaurus, which are quite\ntypical of the series. We observe that the first is described simply as\na case of 'tape-worm' without any justification for the diagnosis. It is\nnot unfrequent nowadays for thin and anxious patients to state,\nsimilarly without justification, that they suffer from this condition.\nThey attribute certain common gastric experiences to this cause of which\nperhaps they have learned from sensational advertisements, and then they\nask cure for a condition which they themselves have diagnosed, but which\nhas no existence in fact. Such a case is often appropriately treated by\nsuggestion. Though the elaborateness of the suggestion in the temple\ncure is a little startling, yet it can easily be paralleled from the\nlegends of the Christian saints. Moreover, we must remember that we are\nnot here dealing with an account set down by the patient herself, but\nwith an edificatory inscription put up by the temple officials.\n\nIn the second inscription, the man with an abdominal abscess, we have a\nmuch simpler state of affairs. It is evident that an operation was\nactually performed by the priest masquerading as Asclepius, while the\npatient was held down by the slaves. He is assured that all is a dream\nand departs cured with the tell-tale comment 'and the floor of the\nAbaton was covered with blood'.\n\nThese cases might be multiplied indefinitely without great profit for\nour particular theme, for in such matters there is no development, no\nevolution, no history. There can be no doubt that a very large part of\nGreek practice was on this level, as is a small part of modern medicine,\nbut it is not a level with which we are here dealing and we shall\ntherefore pass it by. But a word of caution must be added. Such temple\nworship has been compared with modern psycho-analysis. That method, like\nall methods, has doubtless been abused at times; but it is in essence,\nunlike the temple system, a purely scientific process by which the\nultimate basis of the patient's delusions are laid bare and demonstrated\nto him.\n\nThere is indeed another side to these Asclepian temples. They gradually\ndeveloped along the lines of our health resorts and developed many of\nthe qualities--lovely and unlovely--that we associate with certain\ncontinental watering places. On the bad side they became gossiping\ncentres or even something little better than brothels, as we may gather\nfrom the _Mimes_ of Herondas. On the good side they formed a quiet\nrefuge among beautiful and interesting surroundings where the sick,\nexhausted, and convalescent might gain the benefits that accrue from\npure air, fine scenery, and a regular and regulated mode of life. It is\nmore than probable too that the open air and manner of living benefited\nmany cases of incipient phthisis.\n\nReturning to the Hippocratic collection, the purely surgical treatises\nwill be found no less remarkable than those of clinical observation. A\nvery able surgeon, Francis Adams (1796-1861), who was eminent as a Greek\nscholar, gave it as his opinion in the middle of the nineteenth century\nthat no systematic writer on surgery up to his time had given so good\nand so complete an account of certain dislocations, notably of the\nhip-joint, as that to be found in the Hippocratic collection. Some types\nof injury to the hip, as described in the Hippocratic writings, were\ncertainly otherwise quite inadequately known until described by Sir\nAstley Cooper (1768-1841), himself a peculiarly Hippocratic\ncharacter.[81] The verdict of Adams was probably just, though since his\ntime the surgery of dislocations, aided especially by X-rays, has been\nenabled to pass very definitely beyond the Hippocratic position.\nAdmirable, too, is the Hippocratic description of dislocation of the\nshoulder and of the jaw. In dislocation of hip, shoulder, or jaw, as in\nmost similar lesions, there is considerable deformity produced. The\nnature and meaning of this deformity is described with remarkable\nexactness by the Hippocratic writer, who also sets forth the resulting\ndisability. The principles and indeed the very details of treatment in\nthese cases are, save for the use of an anaesthetic, practically\nidentical with those of the present day. The processes are unfortunately\nnot suitable for detailed quotation and description here, but they are\nof special interest since a graphic record of them has come down to us.\nThere exists in the Laurentian Library at Florence a ninth-century Greek\nsurgical manuscript which contains figures of surgeons reducing the\ndislocations in question. There is good reason to suppose that these\nminiatures are copied from figures first prepared in pre-Christian times\nmany centuries earlier, and we may here see the actual processes of\nreduction of such fractures, as conducted by a surgeon of the direct\nHippocratic tradition[82] (see Figs. 3, 4).\n\n    [81] Astley Paston Cooper, _Treatise on Dislocations and Fractures\n    of the Joints_, London, 1822, and _Observations on Fractures of the\n    Neck and the Thighbone_, &c., London, 1823.\n\n    [82] This famous manuscript is known as Laurentian, Plutarch 74, 7,\n    and its figures have been reproduced by H. Sch\u00f6ne, _Apollonius von\n    Kitium_, Leipzig, 1896.\n\n[Illustration: From MS. of APOLLONIUS OF KITIUM, of Ninth Century\nCopied from pre-christian original\n\nFig. 3 REDUCING DISLOCATED SHOULDER\n\nFig. 4 REDUCING DISLOCATED JAW]\n\nIn keeping with all this is most of the surgical work of the collection.\nWe are almost startled by the modern sound of the whole procedure as we\nrun through the rough note-book \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4' \u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd {kat' i\u00eatreion},\n_Concerning the Surgery_, or the more elaborate treatise \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b9\u03b7\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\n{peri i\u00eatrou}, _On the Physician_, where we may read minute directions\nfor the preparation of the operating-room, and on such points as the\nmanagement of light both artificial and natural, scrupulous cleanliness\nof the hands, the care and use of the instruments, with the special\nprecautions needed when they are of iron, the decencies to be observed\nduring the operation, the general method of bandaging, the placing of\nthe patient, the use and abuse of splints, and the need for tidiness,\norder, and cleanliness. Many of these directions are enlarged upon in\nother surgical works of the collection, among which we find especially\nfull instructions for bandaging and for the diagnosis and treatment of\nfractures and dislocations. A very fair representation of such a surgery\nas these works describe is to be found on a vase-painting of Attic\norigin of the earlier part of the fifth century, and, therefore, a\ngeneration before Hippocrates (see fig. 5). There are also several\nbeautiful representations on vases of the actual processes of bandaging\n(fig. 6).\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 5.\nA GREEK CLINIC OF ABOUT 480-470 B. C. From a vase-painting.\n\nIn the centre sits a physician holding a lancet and bleeding a patient\nfrom the median vein at the bend of the right elbow into a large open\nbasin. Above and behind the physician are suspended three cupping\nvessels. To the right sits another patient awaiting his turn; his left\narm is bandaged in the region of the biceps. The figure beyond him\nsmells a flower, perhaps as a preservative against infection. Behind the\nphysician stands a man leaning on a staff; he is wounded in the left\nleg, which is bandaged. By his side stands a dwarfish figure with\ndisproportionately large head, whose body exhibits deformities typical\nof the developmental disease now known as _Achondroplasia_; in addition\nto these deformities we note that his body is hairy and the bridge of\nhis nose sunken; on his back he carries a hare which is almost as tall\nas himself. Talking to the dwarf is a man leaning on a long staff, who\nhas the remains of a bandage round his chest.\n\nSee E. Pottier, 'Une Clinique grecque au V^{e} si\u00e8cle (vase antique du\ncollection Peztel)', _Fondation Eug\u00e8ne Piot, Monuments et M\u00e9moires_,\nxiii. 149, Paris, 1906. (Some of our interpretations differ from those\nof M. Pottier.)]\n\n[Illustration: FIG. 6. A kylix from the Berlin Museum of about 490 B. C.\nIt bears the inscription \u03a3\u039f\u03a3\u0399\u0391\u03a3 \u0395\u03a0\u039f\u0399\u0397\u03a3\u0395\u039d {SOSIAS EPOI\u00caSEN}, _Sosias\nmade_ (_me_), and represents Achilles bandaging Patroclus, the names of\nthe two heroes being written round the margin. The painter is\nEuphronios, and the work is regarded as the masterpiece of that great\nartist. The left upper arm of Patroclus is injured, and Achilles is\nbandaging it with a two-rolled bandage, which he is trying to bring down\nto extend over the elbow. The treatment of the hands, a department in\nwhich Euphronios excelled, is particularly fine. Achilles was not a\ntrained surgeon, and it will be observed, from the position of the two\ntails of the bandage, that he will have some difficulty when it comes to\nits final fastening!]\n\nAmong the surgical procedures of which descriptions are to be found in\nthe Hippocratic writings are the opening of the chest for the condition\nknown as _empyema_ (accumulation of pus within the pleura frequently\nfollowing pneumonia), and trephining the skull in cases of fracture of\nthat part--two fundamental operations of modern surgery. Surgical art\nhas advanced enormously in our own times, yet a text-book containing\nmuch that is useful to this day might be prepared from these surgical\ncontents of the collection alone.\n\nWhen we pass to the works on Medicine, in the restricted sense, we enter\ninto a region more difficult and perhaps even more fascinating. We are\nno longer dealing with simple lesions of known origin, but with the\neffects of disease and degeneration, of the essential character of which\nthe Hippocratic writers could in the nature of the case know very\nlittle. Rigidly guarding themselves from any attempt to explain disease\nby more immediate and hypothetical causes and thus diverting the\nreader's energies in the medically useless direction of vague\nspeculation--the prevalent mental vice of the Greeks--the best of these\nphysicians are content if they can put forward generalized conclusions\nfrom actually observed cases. Many of their thoughts have now become\nhousehold words, and they have become so, largely as a direct heritage\nfrom these ancient physicians. But it must be remembered that ideas so\nfamiliar to us were with them the result of long and carefully recorded\nexperience and are like nothing that we encounter in the medicine of\nother ancient nations. Such conclusions are best set forth perhaps in\nthe wonderful book of the _Aphorisms_ from which we may permit ourselves\na few quotations:\n\n     'Life is short, and the Art long; the opportunity fleeting;\n     experiment dangerous, and judgement difficult. Yet we must be\n     prepared not only to do our duty ourselves, but also patient,\n     attendants, and external circumstances must co-operate.'[83]\n\n    [83] The first lines are the source of the famous lines in Goethe's\n    _Faust_:\n\n      'Ach Gott! die Kunst ist lang\n      Und kurz ist unser Leben,\n      Mir wird bei meinem kritischen Bestreben\n      Doch oft um Kopf und Busen bang.'\n\nIn this one memorable paragraph, so condensed in the original as to be\nalmost untranslatable, he who 'first separated medicine from philosophy'\nputs aside at once all speculative interest while in the actual presence\nof the sick. His whole energy is concentrated on the case in hand with\nthat peculiar attitude, at once impersonal and intensely personal, that\nhas since been the mark of the physician, and that has made of Medicine\nboth a science and an art.\n\n     'For extreme diseases, extreme methods of cure.'[84]\n\n     'The aged endure fasting most easily; next adults; next young\n     persons, and least of all children, and especially such as are the\n     most lively.'\n\n     'Growing bodies have the most innate heat; they therefore require\n     the most nourishment, and if they have it not they waste. In the\n     aged there is little heat, and therefore they require little fuel,\n     for it would be extinguished by much. Similarly fevers in the aged\n     are not so acute, because their bodies are cold.'\n\n     'In disease sleep that is laborious is a deadly symptom; but if\n     sleep relieves it is not deadly.'\n\n     'Sleep that puts an end to delirium is a good symptom.'\n\n     'If a convalescent eats well, but does not put on flesh, it is a\n     bad symptom.'\n\n     'Food or drink which is a little less good but more palatable is to\n     be preferred to such that is better but less palatable.'\n\n     'The old have generally fewer complaints than young; but those\n     chronic diseases which do befall them generally never leave them.'\n\n    [84] The extreme of treatment refers in the original to the extreme\n    restriction of diet, \u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03b9\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b7\u03bd {es akribei\u00ean}, but the meaning of\n    the Aphorism has always been taken as more generalized.\n\nHere we have a group of observations, some of which have become\nliterally household words, nor is it difficult to understand how such\nsayings have passed from professional into lay keeping. This magnificent\nbook of _Aphorisms_ was very early translated into Latin, probably\nbefore and certainly not later than the sixth century of the Christian\nera, and thus became accessible throughout the West. Manuscripts of this\nLatin version, dating from the ninth and tenth centuries of our era,\nhave survived in the actual places in which they were written, at Monte\nCassino in Southern Italy and at Einsiedeln in Switzerland, and in 991\nthe book of _Aphorisms_ was well known and closely studied at the\nCathedral school of Chartres. From France the _Aphorisms_ reached\nEngland, and they are mentioned in documents of the tenth or eleventh\ncentury. By now, too, the book had been translated into Syriac and later\ninto Arabic and Hebrew, so that in the true mediaeval period it was\nknown both East and West, and in the vernacular as well as the classical\ntongues. From the oriental dialects several further translations were\nagain made into Latin. An enormous number of manuscripts of the work\nhave survived in almost every Western dialect, and these show on the\nwhole that the text has been surprisingly little tampered with. In the\nmiddle of the thirteenth century some of the better-known Aphorisms were\nabsorbed into a very popular Latin poem that went forth in the name of\nthe medical school of Salerno, though with a false ascription to a yet\nearlier date. The Salernitan poem, being itself translated into every\nEuropean vernacular, further helped to bring Hippocrates into every\nhome.\n\nBut by no means all the Aphorisms are of a kind that could well become\nabsorbed into folk medicine. It is only those concerning frequently\nrecurring states to which this fate could befall. The book contains also\na number of notes on rare conditions seldom seen or noted save by\nmedical men. Such are the following very acute observations:\n\n     'Spasm supervening on a wound is fatal.'\n\n     'Those seized with tetanus die within four days, or if they survive\n     so long they recover.'\n\n     'A convulsion, or hiccup, supervening on a copious discharge of\n     blood is bad.'\n\n     'If after severe and grave wounds no swelling appears, it is very\n     serious.'\n\nThese four sentences all concern wounds. The first two refer to the\ndisease _tetanus_, which is very liable to supervene on wounds fouled\nwith earth, especially in hot and moist localities. The disease is\ncharacterized by a series of painful muscular contractions which in the\nmore severe and fatal form may become a continuous spasm, a type that is\nreferred to in the first sentence. It is true of tetanus that the later\nthe onset after the wound is sustained the better the chance of\nrecovery. This is brought out by the second sentence. The third and\nfourth sentences record untoward symptoms following a severe wound, now\nwell recognized and watched for by every surgeon. There were, of course,\ninnumerable illustrations of the truth of these Aphorisms in extensive\nwounds, especially those involving crushed limbs, in the late war.\n\n     'Phthisis occurs most commonly between the ages of eighteen and\n     thirty-five.'\n\n     'Diarrh\u0153a supervening on phthisis is mortal.'\n\nThe period given by the _Aphorisms_ for the maximum frequency of onset\nof the disease is closely borne out by modern observations. The second\nAphorism is equally valid; continued diarrh\u0153a is a very frequent\nantecedent of the fatal event in chronic phthisis, and post-mortem\nexamination has shown that secondary involvement of the bowel is an\nexceedingly common condition in this disease.\n\nNo less remarkable is the following saying: 'In jaundice it is a grave\nmatter if the liver becomes indurated.' Jaundice is a common and\ncomparatively trivial symptom following or accompanying a large variety\nof diseases. In and by itself it is of little importance and almost\nalways disappears spontaneously. There is a small group of pathological\nconditions, however, in which this is not the case. The commonest and\nmost important of these are the fatal affections of cirrhosis and cancer\nof the liver in which that organ may be felt to be enlarged and\nhardened. If therefore the liver can be so felt in a case of jaundice,\nit is, as the Aphorism says, of gravest import. Representations of such\ncases have actually come down to us from Greek times. Thus on a monument\nerected at Athens to the memory of a physician who died in the second\ncentury of the Christian era we may see the process of clinical\nexamination (fig. 7). The physician is palpating the liver of a dwarfish\nfigure whose swollen belly, wasted limbs, and anxious look tell of some\nsuch condition as that described in the Aphorism. The ridge caused by\nthe enlarged liver can even be detected on the statue.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 7. ATHENIAN FUNERARY MONUMENT\nSecond century A. D. British Museum\n\nInscription reads: 'Jason, also called Dekmos, the Acharnian, a\nphysician', followed by his genealogy. By side of patient stands a\ncupping vessel.]\n\n'We must attend to the appearances of the eyes in sleep as presented\nfrom below; for if a portion of the white be seen between the closing\neyelids, and if this be not connected with diarrh\u0153a or severe purging,\nit is a very bad and mortal symptom.' In this, the last Aphorism which\nwe shall quote, we see the Hippocratic physician actually making his\nobservations. Now during sleep the eyeball is turned upward, so that if\nthe eye be then opened and examined only the white is seen. In the later\nstages of all wasting and chronic diseases the eyelids tend not to be\nclosed during sleep. Such patients, as is well known, often die with the\neyes open and sometimes exhibiting only the whites.\n\nBut the Hippocratic physician was not content to make only passive\nobservation; he also took active measures to elicit the 'physical\nsigns'. In modern times a large, perhaps the chief, task of the student\nof medicine is to acquire a knowledge of these so-called physical signs\nof disease, the tradition of which has been gradually rebuilt during the\nlast three centuries. Among the most important measures in which he\nlearns to acquire facility is that of auscultation. This useful process\nhas come specially into vogue since the invention of the stethoscope in\n1819 by Laennec, who derived valuable hints for it from the Hippocratic\nwritings. Auscultation is several times mentioned and described by the\nHippocratic physicians, who used the direct method of listening and not\nthe mediate method devised by Laennec. There are, however, certain cases\nin which the modern physician still finds the older non-instrumental\nHippocratic method superior. In the Hippocratic work \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd {peri\nnous\u00f4n}, _On diseases_, we read of a case with fluid in the pleura that\n'you will place the patient on a seat which does not move, an assistant\nwill hold him by the shoulders, and you will shake him, applying the ear\nto the chest, so as to recognize on which side the sign occurs'. This\nsign is still used by physicians and is known as _Hippocratic\nsuccussion_. In another passage in the same work the symptoms of\npleurisy are described and 'a creak like that of leather may be heard'.\nThis is the well known _pleuritic rub_ which the physician is accustomed\nto seek in such cases, and of which the creak of leather is an excellent\nrepresentation.\n\nSuch quotations give an insight into the general method and attitude of\nthe Hippocratics. Of an art such as medicine, which even in those times\nhad a long and rational tradition behind it, it is impossible to give\nmore than the merest glimpse in such a review as this. The actual\npractice is far too complex to set down briefly. This is especially the\ncase with the ancient teaching as regards epidemic disease at which we\nmust cursorily glance. The Hippocratic physicians and indeed all\nantiquity were as yet ignorant of the nature, and were but dimly aware\nof the existence, of infection.[85] For them acute disease was something\nimposed on the patient from outside, but how it reached him from outside\nand what it was that thus reached him they were still admittedly\nignorant. In this dilemma they turned to prolonged observation and noted\nas a result of repeated experience that epidemic diseases in their world\nhad characteristic seasonal and regional distributions. One country was\nnot quite like another, nor was one season like another nor even one\nyear like another. By a series of carefully collated observations as to\nhow regions, seasons, and years differed from each other, they succeeded\nin laying the basis of a rational study of epidemiology which gave rise\nto the notion of an 'epidemic constitution' of the different years, a\nconception which was very fertile and stimulating to the great\nclinicians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and is by no\nmeans without value even for the modern epidemiologist. The work of the\nmodern fathers of epidemiology was consciously based on Hippocrates.\n\n    [85] The ancients knew almost nothing of infection _as applied\n    specifically_ to disease. All early peoples--including Greeks and\n    Romans--believed in the transmission of qualities from object to\n    object. Thus purity and impurity and good and bad luck were\n    infections, and diseases were held to be infections in that sense.\n    But there is little evidence in the belief of the special\n    infectivity of _disease as such_ in antiquity. Some few diseases\n    are, however, unequivocally referred to as infectious in a limited\n    number of passages, e. g. ophthalmia, scabies, and phthisis in the\n    \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd {peri diaphoras pyret\u00f4n}, _On the differentiae\n    of fevers_, K. vii, p. 279. The references to infection in antiquity\n    are detailed by C. and D. Singer, 'The scientific position of\n    Girolamo Fracastoro', _Annals of Medical History_, vol. i, New York,\n    1917.\n\nBefore parting with the Hippocratic physician a word must be said as to\nhis therapeutic means. His general armoury may be described as\nresembling that of the modern physician of about two generations ago.\nDuring those two generations we have, it is true, added to our list of\neffective remedies but, on the other hand, there has been by common\nconsent a return to the Hippocratic simplicity of treatment. After rest\nand quiet the central factor in treatment was Dietetics. This science\nregarded the age--'Old persons use less nutriment than young'; the\nseason--'In winter abundant nourishment is wholesome, in summer a more\nfrugal diet'; the bodily condition--'Lean persons should take little\nfood, but this little should be fat, fat persons on the other hand\nshould take much food, but it should be lean'. Respect was also paid to\nthe digestibility of different foods--'white meat is more easily\ndigestible than dark'--and to their preparation. Water, barley water,\nand lime water were recommended as drinks. The dietetic principles of\nthe Hippocratics, especially in connexion with fevers, are substantially\nthose of the present day, and it may be said that the general medical\ntendency of the last generation in these matters has been an even closer\napproximation to the Hippocratic. 'The more we nourish unhealthy bodies\nthe more we injure them'; 'The sick upon whom fever seizes with the\ngreatest severity from the very outset, must at once subject themselves\nto a rigid diet'; 'Complete abstinence often acts well, if the strength\nof the patient can in any way sustain it'; yet 'We should examine the\nstrength of the sick, to see whether they be in condition to maintain\nthis spare diet to the crisis of the disease'. 'In the application of\nthese rules we must always be mindful of the strength of the patient and\nof the course of each particular disease, as well as of the constitution\nand ordinary mode of life in each disease.'\n\nBesides diet the Hippocratic physician had at his disposal a\nconsiderable variety of other remedies. Baths, inunctions, clysters,\nwarm and cold suffusions, massage and gymnastic, as well as gentler\nexercise are among them. He probably employed cupping and bleeding\nrather too freely, and we have several representations of the\ninstruments used for these operations (fig. 8). He was no great user of\ndrugs and seldom names them except, we may note, in the works on the\ntreatment of women, which are probably of Cnidian origin and whence the\ngreater part of the 300 constituents of the Hippocratic pharmacop\u0153ia are\nderived. Thus his list of drugs is small but several known to him are\nstill used by us.\n\nThe work of these men may be summed up by saying that without\ndissection, without any experimental physiology or pathology, and\nwithout any instrumental aid they pushed the knowledge of the course and\norigin of disease as far as it is conceivable that men in such\ncircumstances could push it. This was done as a process of pure\nscientific induction. Their surgery, though hardly based on anatomy, was\ngrounded on the most carefully recorded experience. In therapeutics they\nallowed themselves neither to be deceived by false hopes nor led aside\nby vain traditions. Yet in diagnosis, prognosis, surgery and\ntherapeutics alike they were in many departments unsurpassed until the\nnineteenth century, and to some of their methods we have reverted in the\ntwentieth. Persisting throughout the ages as a more or less definite\ntradition, which attained clearer form during and after the sixteenth\ncentury, Hippocratic methods have formed the basis of all departments of\nmodern advance.\n\nBut the history of Greek medicine did not end with the Hippocratic\ncollection; in many respects it may indeed be held only to begin there;\nyet we never get again a glimpse of so high an ethical and professional\nstandard as that which these works convey. From Alexandrian times\nonwards, too, the history of Greek medicine becomes largely a history of\nvarious schools of medical thought, each of which has only a partial\nview of the course and nature of medical knowledge. The unravelling of\nthe course and teachings of these sects has long been a pre-occupation\nof professed medical historians, but the general reader can hardly take\nan interest in differences between the Dogmatists, Empirics, and\nMethodists whose doctrines are as dead as themselves. In this later\nAlexandrian and Hellenistic age the Greek intellect is no less active\nthan before, but there is a change in the taste of the material. A\ngeneral decay of the spirit is reflected in the medical as in the\nliterary products of the time, and we never again feel that elevation of\na beautiful and calmly righteous presence that breathes through the\nHippocratic collection and gives it a peculiar aroma.\n\nWe shall pass over the general course of later Greek medicine with great\nrapidity. A definite medical school was established at Alexandria and\nothers perhaps at Pergamon and elsewhere. Athens, after the death of\nAristotle and his pupils, passes entirely into the background and is of\nno importance so far as medicine is concerned. At Alexandria, where a\ngreat medical library was collected, anatomy began to be studied and two\nmen whose discoveries were of primary importance for the history of that\nsubject, Erasistratus and Herophilus, early practised there. With\nanatomy as a basis medical education could become much more systematic.\nIt is a very great misfortune that the works of these two eminent men\nhave disappeared. Of Herophilus fragments have survived embedded in the\nworks of Galen (A. D. 130-201), Caelius Aurelianus (fifth century), and\nothers. These fragments have been the subject of one of the earliest,\nmost laborious, and most successful attempts made in modern times to\nreconstruct the lost work of an ancient author.[86] For Erasistratus our\nchief source of information are two polemical treatises directed against\nhim by Galen. Recently, too, a little more information concerning the\nworks of both men has become available from the Menon papyrus.\n\n    [86] K. F. H. Marx, _Herophilus, ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der\n    Medizin_, Karlsruhe, 1838.\n\nIt has been found possible to reconstruct especially a treatise on\nanatomy by Herophilus with a considerable show of probability. He opened\nby giving general directions for the process of dissection and followed\nwith detailed descriptions of the various systems, nervous, vascular,\nglandular, digestive, generative, and osseous. There was a separate\nsection on the liver, a small part of which has survived. It is of his\naccount of the nervous system that we have perhaps the best record, and\nit is evident that he has advanced far beyond the Hippocratic position.\nIn the braincase he saw the membranes that cover the brain and\ndistinguished between the cerebrum and cerebellum. He attained to some\nknowledge of the ventricles of the brain, the cranial and spinal nerves,\nthe nerves of the heart, and the coats of the eye. He distinguished the\nblood sinuses of the skull, and the _torcular Herophili_ (winepress of\nHerophilus), a sinus described by him, has preserved his name in modern\nanatomical nomenclature. He even made out more minute structures, such\nas the little depression in the fourth ventricle of the brain, known to\nmodern anatomists as the _calamus scriptorius_, which still bears the\nname which he gave it (\u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f61 \u03b3\u03c1\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd {kalamos h\u00f4 graphomen}),\nbecause it seemed to him, as Galen tells us, to resemble the pens then\nin use in Alexandria.[87] We still use, too, his term _duodenum_\n(\u03b4\u03c9\u03b4\u03b5\u03ba\u03b1\u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03ba\u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {d\u00f4dekadaktylos ekphysis} = twelve-finger\nextension), for as Galen assures us, Herophilus 'so named the first part\nof the intestine before it is rolled into folds'.[88] The duodenum is a\nU-shaped section of the intestine following immediately on the stomach.\nBeing fixed down behind the abdominal cavity it cannot be further\nconvoluted, and this accounts for Galen's description of it. It is about\ntwelve fingers' breadth long in the animals dissected by Herophilus.\n\n    [87] Galen, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b9\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03b3\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd {peri anatomik\u00f4n\n    encheir\u00ease\u00f4n}, _On anatomical preparations_, ix. 5 (last sentence).\n\n    [88] Galen, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c6\u03bb\u03b5\u03b2\u03c9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03c2 {peri phleb\u00f4n kai\n    art\u00eari\u00f4n anatom\u00eas}, _On the anatomy of veins and arteries_, i.\n\nErasistratus, the slightly younger Alexandrian contemporary of\nHerophilus, has the credit of further anatomical discoveries. He\ndescribed correctly the action of the epiglottis in preventing the\nentrance of food and drink into the windpipe during the act of\nswallowing, he saw the lacteal vessels in the mesentery, and pursued\nfurther the anatomy of the brain. He improved on the anatomy of the\nheart, and described the auriculo-ventricular valves and their mode of\nclosure. He distinguished clearly the motor and sensory nerves. He seems\nto have adopted a definitely experimental attitude--a very rare thing\namong ancient physicians--and a description of an experiment made by him\nhas recently been recovered. 'If', he says, 'you take an animal, a bird,\nfor example, and keep it for a time in a jar without giving it food and\nthen weigh it together with its excreta you will find that there is a\nconsiderable loss of weight.'[89] The experiment is a simple one, but it\nwas about nineteen hundred years before a modern professor, Sanctorio\nSantorio (1561-1636), thought of repeating it.[90]\n\n    [89] The quotation is from chapter xxxiii, line 44 of the _Anonymus\n    Londinensis_. H. Diels, _Anonymus Londinensis_ in the _Supplementum\n    Aristotelicum_, vol. iii, pars 1, Berlin, 1893.\n\n    [90] Sanctorio Santorio, _Oratio in archilyceo patavino anno 1612\n    habita; de medicina statica aphorismi_. Venice, 1614.\n\nThe anatomical advances made by the Alexandrian school naturally reacted\non surgical efficiency. The improvement so effected may be gathered, for\ninstance, from an account of the anatomical relationships in certain\ncases of dislocation of the hip given by the Alexandrian surgeon\nHegetor, who lived about 100 B. C. In his book \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri\naiti\u00f4n}, _On causes_ [_of disease_], he asks 'why (certain surgeons) do\nnot seek another way of reducing a luxation of the hip.... If the joints\nof the jaw, shoulder, elbow, knee, finger, &c., can be replaced, the\nsame, they think, must be true of all parts, nor can they give an\naccount of why the femur cannot be put back into its place.... They\nmight have known, however, that from the head of the femur arises a\nligament which is inserted into the socket of the hip bone ... and if\nthis ligament is once ruptured the thigh bone cannot be retained in\nplace'.[91] This passage contains the first description of the structure\nknown to modern anatomists as the _ligamentum teres_, a strong fibrous\nband which unites the head of the femur with the socket into which it\nfits in the hip bone, like the string that binds the cup and ball of a\nchild's toy. This ligament is ruptured in certain severe cases of\ndislocation of the hip.\n\n    [91] This is the only passage of Hegetor's writing that has\n    survived. It has been preserved in the work of Apollonius of Citium.\n\nAfter the establishment of the school at Alexandria, medical teaching\nrapidly became organized, but throughout the whole course of antiquity\nit suffered from the absence of anything in the nature of a state\ndiploma. Any one could practise, with the result that many quacks,\ncranks, and fanatics were to be found among the ranks of the\npractitioners who often were or had been slaves. The great Alexandrian\nschool, however, did much to preserve some sort of professional\nstandard, and above all its anatomical discipline helped to this end.\n\nBetween the founding of the Alexandrian school and Galen we are not rich\nin medical writings. Apart from fragments and minor productions, the\nworks of only five authors have survived from this period of over four\nhundred years, namely, Celsus, Dioscorides, Aretaeus of Cappadocia, and\ntwo Ephesian authors bearing the names of Rufus and Soranus.\n\nThe work of Celsus of the end of the first century B. C. is a Latin\ntreatise, probably translated from Greek, and is the surviving medical\nvolume of a complete cyclopaedia of knowledge. In spite of its\nunpromising origin it is an excellent compendium of its subject and\nshows a good deal of advance in many respects beyond the Hippocratic\nposition. The moral tone too is very high, though without the lofty and\ndetached beauty of Hippocrates. Anatomy has greatly improved, and with\nit surgical procedure, and the work is probably representative of the\nbest Alexandrian practice. The pharmacop\u0153ia is more copious, but has not\nyet become burdensome. The general line of treatment is sensible and\nhumane and the language concise and clear. Among other items he\ndescribes dental practice, with the indications for and methods of tooth\nextraction, the wiring of teeth, and perhaps a dental mirror. There is\nan excellent account of what might be thought to be the modern operation\nfor removal of the tonsils. Celsus is still commemorated in modern\nmedicine by the _area Celsi_, a not uncommon disease of the skin. The\n_De re medica_ is in fact one of the very best medical text-books that\nhave come down to us from antiquity. It has had a romantic history.\nForgotten during the Middle Ages, it was brought to light by the\nclassical scholar Guarino of Verona (1374-1460) in 1426, and a better\ncopy was discovered by his friend Lamola in 1427. Another copy was found\nby Thomas Parentucelli (1397-1455), afterwards Pope Nicholas V in 1443,\nand the text was later studied by Politian (1454-94). Though one of the\nlatest of the great classical medical texts to be discovered, it was one\nof the first to be printed (Florence, 1478), and it ran through very\nmany early editions and had great influence on the medical renaissance.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 8. VOTIVE TABLET representing cupping and bleeding\ninstruments from Temple of Asclepius at Athens. In centre is represented\na folding case containing scalpels of various forms. On either side are\ncupping vessels.]\n\nAfter Celsus comes Dioscorides in the first century A. D. He was a Greek\nmilitary surgeon of Cilician origin who served under Nero, and in him\nthe Greek intellect is obviously beginning to flag. His work is\nprodigiously important for the history of botany, yet so far as rational\nmedicine is concerned he is almost negligible. He begins at the wrong\nend, either giving lists of drugs with the symptoms that they are said\nto cure or to relieve, or lists of symptoms with a series of named\ndrugs. Clinical observation and record are wholly absent, and the spirit\nof Hippocrates has departed from this elaborate pharmacop\u0153ia.\n\nWith the second century of the Christian era we terminate the creative\nperiod of Greek medicine. We are provided with the works of four\nimportant writers of this century, of whom three, Rufus of Ephesus,\nSoranus of Ephesus, and Aretaeus of Cappadocia, though valuable for\nforming a picture of the state of medicine in their day, were without\nsubstantial influence on the course of medicine in later ages.\n\nRufus of Ephesus, a little junior to Dioscorides, has left us the first\nformal work on human anatomy and is of some importance in the history of\ncomparative anatomy. In medicine he is memorable as the first to have\ndescribed bubonic plague, and in surgery for his description of the\nmethods of arresting haemorrhage and his knowledge of the anatomy of\nthe eye. A work by him _On gout_ was translated into Latin in the sixth\ncentury, but remained unknown till modern times.\n\nSoranus of Ephesus (A. D. _c._ 90-_c._ 150), an acute writer on\ngynaecology, has left a book which illustrates well the anatomy of his\nday. It exercised an influence for many centuries to come, and a Latin\nabstract of it prepared about the sixth century by one Moschion has come\ndown to us in an almost contemporary manuscript.[92] It is interesting\nas opposing the Hippocratic theory that the male embryo is originated in\nthe right and the female in the left half of the womb, a fallacy derived\noriginally from Empedocles and Parmenides, but perpetuated by Latin\ntranslations of the Hippocratic treatises until the seventeenth century.\nHis work was adorned by figures, and some of these, naturally greatly\naltered by copyists, but still not infinitely removed from the facts,\nhave survived in a manuscript of the ninth century, and give us a\ndistant idea of the appearance of ancient anatomical drawings.[93] We\nmay assist our imagination a little further, in forming an idea of what\nsuch diagrams were like, with the help of certain other mediaeval\nfigures representing the form and distribution of the various anatomical\n'systems', veins, arteries, nerves, bones, and muscles which are\nprobably traceable to an Alexandrian origin.[94]\n\n    [92] Leyden Voss 4\u00b0 9^{*} of the sixth century is a fragment of this\n    work.\n\n    [93] V. Rose, _Sorani Ephesii vetus translatio Latina cum additis\n    Graeci textus reliquiis_, Leipzig, 1882; F. Weindler, _Geschichte\n    der gyn\u00e4kologisch-anatomischen Abbildung_, Dresden, 1908.\n\n    [94] The discovery and attribution of these figures is the work of\n    K. Sudhoff. A bibliography of his writings on the subject will be\n    found in a 'Study in Early Renaissance Anatomy' in C. Singer's\n    _Studies in the History and Method of Science_, vol. i, Oxford,\n    1917.\n\nAretaeus of Cappadocia was probably a contemporary of Galen (second half\nof the second century A. D.). As a clinical author his reputation stands\nhigh, perhaps too high, his descriptions of pneumonia, empyema,\ndiabetes, and elephantiasis having especially drawn attention. In\ntreatment he uses simple remedies, is not affected by polypharmacy, and\nsuggests many ingenious mechanical devices. It would appear that\nAretaeus is not an independent writer, but mainly a compiler. He relies\nlargely on Archigenes, a distinguished physician contemporary with\nJuvenal, whose works have perished save the fragments preserved in this\nmanner by Aretaeus and Aetius. Aretaeus was a very popular writer among\nthe Greeks in all ages, but he was not translated into Latin, and was\nunknown in the West until the middle of the sixteenth century.[95] He is\nphilologically interesting as still using the Ionic dialect.\n\n    [95] First Latin edition Venice, 1552; first Greek edition Paris,\n    1554.\n\nThere remains the huge overshadowing figure of Galen. The enormous mass\nof the surviving work of this man, the dictator of medicine until the\nrevival of learning and beyond, tends to throw out of perspective the\nwhole of Greek medical records. The works of Galen alone form about half\nof the mass of surviving Greek medical writings, and occupy, in the\nstandard edition, twenty-two thick, closely-printed volumes. These cover\nevery department of medicine, anatomy, physiology, pathology, medical\ntheory, therapeutics, as well as clinical medicine and surgery. In style\nthey are verbose and heavy and very frequently polemical. They are\nsaturated with a teleology which, at times, becomes excessively tedious.\nIn the anatomical works, masses of teleological explanation dilute the\naccount of often imperfectly described structures. Yet to this element\nwe owe the preservation of the mass of Galen's works, for his intensely\nteleological point of view appealed to the theological bias both of\nWestern Christianity and of Eastern Islam. Intolerable as literature,\nhis works are a valuable treasure house of medical knowledge and\nexperience, custom, tradition, and history.\n\nAs in the case of the Hippocratic corpus, so in the case of the Galenic\ncorpus we are dealing to some extent with material from various\nsources. In the case of Galen, however, we have a good standard of\ngenuineness, for he has left us a list of his books which can be checked\noff against those which we actually possess. The general standpoint of\nthe Galenic is not unlike that of the Hippocratic writings, but the\nnoble vision of the lofty-minded, pure-souled physician has utterly\npassed away. In his place we have an acute, honest, very contentious\nfellow, bristling with energy and of prodigious industry, not unkindly,\nbut loving strife, a thoroughly 'aggressive' character. He loves truth,\nbut he loves argument quite as much. The value of his philosophical\nwritings, of which some have survived, cannot be discussed here, but it\nis evident that he is frequently satisfied with purely verbal\nexplanations. An ingenious physiologist, a born experimenter, an\nexcellent anatomist and eager to improve, possessing a good knowledge of\nthe human skeleton and an accurate acquaintance with the internal parts\nso far as this can be derived from a most industrious devotion to\ndissection of animals, equipped with all the learning of the schools of\nPergamon, Smyrna, and Alexandria, and rich with the experience of a vast\npractice at Rome, Galen is essentially an 'efficient' man. He has the\ngrace to acknowledge constantly and repeatedly his indebtedness to the\nHippocratic writings. Such was the man whose remains, along with the\nHippocratic collection, formed the main medical legacy of Greece to the\nWestern world.\n\nSome of Galen's works are mere drug lists, little superior to those of\nDioscorides;[96] with the depression of the intelligence that\ncorresponded with the break up of the Roman Empire, it was these that\nwere chiefly seized on and distributed in the West. Attractive too to\nthe debased intellect of the late Roman world were certain spurious,\nsuperstitious, and astrological works that circulated in the name of\nGalen and Hippocrates.[97] The Greek medical writers after Galen were\nbut his imitators and abstractors, but through some of them Galen's\nworks reached the West at a very early period in the Middle Ages. Such\nabstractors who were early translated into Latin were Oribasius\n(325-403), Paul of Aegina (625-690), and Alexander of Tralles (525-605).\nOf the best and most scientific of Galen's works the Middle Ages knew\nlittle or nothing.\n\n    [96] e. g. \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03c9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f01\u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03c6\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c9\u03bd {peri\n    krase\u00f4s kai dyname\u00f4s t\u00f4n hapant\u00f4n pharmak\u00f4n} and the \u03c6\u03b1\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03b1\n    {pharmaka}.\n\n    [97] e. g. _De dinamidiis Galeni_, _Secreta Hippocratis_ and many\n    astrological tracts.\n\nLater Galen and Hippocrates became a little more accessible, not by\ntranslation from the Greek, but by translation from the Arabic of a\nSyriac version. The first work to be so rendered was a version of\n_Aphorisms_ of Hippocrates which, however, as we have seen, were already\navailable in Latin dress, together with the Hippocratic _Regimen in\nacute diseases_, and certain works of Galen as corruptly interpreted by\nIsaac Judaeus. These were rendered from Arabic into Latin by\nConstantine, an African adventurer who became a monk at Monte Cassino\nand died there in 1087. Constantine was a wretched craftsman with an\nimperfect knowledge of both Arabic and Latin. More effective was the\ngreat twelfth-century translator from the Arabic, Gerard of Cremona\n(died 1185), who turned many medical works into Latin from Arabic, and\nwho was followed by a whole host of imitators. Yet more important for\nthe advance of medicine, however, was the learned revival of the\nthirteenth century. In the main that revival was based on translations\nfrom Arabic, but a certain number of works were also rendered direct\nfrom the Greek. During the thirteenth century Aristotle's scientific\nworks began to be treated in this way, but more important for the course\nof medicine were those of Galen, and they had to wait till the following\ncentury. The long treatise of Galen, \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c7\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\n\u03bc\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9\u03c9\u03bd {peri chreias t\u00f4n en anthr\u00f4pou s\u00f4mati mori\u00f4n}, _On the uses of\nthe bodily parts in man_, was translated from the Greek into Latin by\nNicholas of Reggio in the earlier part of the fourteenth century. This\nwork, with all its defects, was by far the best account of the human\nbody then available. Many manuscripts of the Latin version have\nsurvived, and it was translated into several vernaculars, including\nEnglish, and profoundly influenced surgery. The rendering into Latin of\nthis treatise, and its wide distribution, may be regarded as the\nstarting-point of modern scientific medicine. Its appearance is moreover\na part of the phenomenon of the revived interest in dissection which had\nbegun to be practised in the Universities in the thirteenth century,[98]\nand was a generally accepted discipline in the fourteenth and\nfifteenth.[99]\n\n    [98] Dissection of animals was practised at Salerno as early as the\n    eleventh century.\n\n    [99] The sources of the anatomical knowledge of the Middle Ages are\n    discussed in detail in the following works: R. R. von T\u00f6ply,\n    _Studien zur Geschichte der Anatomie im Mittelalter_, Vienna, 1898;\n    K. Sudhoff, _Tradition und Naturbeobachtung_, Leipzig, 1907; and\n    also numerous articles in the _Archiv f\u00fcr Geschichte der Medizin und\n    Naturwissenschaften_; Charles Singer, 'A Study in Early Renaissance\n    Anatomy', in _Studies in the History and Method of Science_, vol. i,\n    Oxford, 1917.\n\nUntil the end of the fifteenth century progress in anatomy was almost\nimperceptible. During the fifteenth century more Galenic and Hippocratic\ntexts were recovered and gradually turned into Latin, but still without\nvitally affecting the course of Anatomy. The actual printing of\ncollected editions of Hippocrates and Galen came rather late, for the\ndebased taste of the Renaissance physicians continued to prefer\nDioscorides and the Arabs, of whom numerous editions appeared, so that\nmedicine made no advance corresponding to the progress of scholarship.\nThe Hippocratic works were first printed in 1525, and an isolated\nedition of the inferior Galen in 1490, but the real advance in Medicine\nwas not made by direct study of these works. So long as they were\ntreated in the old scholastic spirit such works were of no more value\nthan those of the Arabists or others inherited from the Middle Ages.\nEven Hippocrates can be spoilt by a commentary, and it was not until the\ninvestigator began actually to compare his own observations with those\nof Hippocrates and Galen that the real value of these works became\napparent. The department in which this happened first was Anatomy, and\nsuch revolutionaries as Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1518), who never\npublished, and Vesalius (1514-1564), whose great work appeared in 1543,\nwere really basing their work on Galen, though they were much occupied\nin proving Galen's errors. Antonio Benivieni (died 1502), an eager\nprophet of the new spirit, revived the Hippocratic tradition by actually\ncollecting notes of a few cases with accompanying records of deaths and\npost-mortem findings, among which it is interesting to observe a case of\nappendicitis.[100] His example was occasionally followed during the\nsixteenth century, as for instance, by the Portuguese Jewish physician\nAmatus Lusitanus (1511-_c._ 1562), who printed no fewer than seven\nhundred cases; but the real revival of the Hippocratic tradition came in\nthe next century with Sydenham (1624-1689) and Boerhaave (1668-1738),\nwho were consciously working on the Hippocratic basis and endeavouring\nto extend the Hippocratic experience.\n\n    [100] Benivieni's notes were published posthumously. Some of the\n    spurious Greek works of the Hippocratic collection have also case\n    notes.\n\nLastly surgery came to profit by the revival. The greatest of the\nsixteenth-century surgeons, the lovable and loving Ambroise Par\u00e9\n(1510-1590), though he was, as he himself humbly confessed, an ignorant\nman knowing neither Latin nor Greek, can be shown to have derived much\nfrom the works of antiquity, which were circulating in translation in\nhis day and were thus filtering down to the unlearned.\n\nTexts of Hippocrates and of Galen had formed an integral part in the\nmedical instruction of the universities from their commencement in the\nthirteenth century. The first Greek text of the _Aphorisms_ of\nHippocrates appeared in 1532, edited by no less a hand than that of\nFran\u00e7ois Rabelais. With the further recovery of the Greek texts and\npreparation of better translations, these became almost the sole mode of\ninstruction during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The\ntranslators became legion and their competence varied. One highly\nskilled translator, however, is of special interest to English readers.\nThomas Linacre (1460?-1524), Physician to Henry VIII, Tutor to the\nPrincess Mary, founder and first president of the College of\nPhysicians, a benefactor of both the ancient Universities and one of the\nearliest, ablest, most typical, and most exasperating of the English\nhumanists, spent much energy on this work of translation for which his\nabilities peculiarly fitted him. He was responsible for no less than six\nimportant works of Galen, of which one, the _De temperamentis et de\ninaequali intemperie_, printed at Cambridge in 1521, was among the\nearliest books impressed in that town and is said to be the first\nprinted in England for which Greek types were used. It has been honoured\nby reproduction in facsimile in modern times. Such works as these,\npurely literary efforts, had great vogue for a century and more, and\nwere much in use in the Universities. These humanistic products\nsometimes produced, among the advocates of the new scientific method, a\ndegree of fury which was only rivalled by that of some of the humanists\nthemselves towards the translators from the Arabic. But these are now\ndead fires. As the clinical and scientific methods of teaching gained\nground, textual studies receded in medical education, as Hippocrates and\nGalen themselves would have wished them to recede.\n\nThe texts of Hippocrates and Galen have now ceased to occupy a place in\nany medical curriculum. Yet all who know these writings, know too, not\nonly that their spirit is still with us, but that the works themselves\nform the background of modern practice, and that their very phraseology\nis still in use at the bedside. Modern medicine may be truly described\nas in essence a creation of the Greeks. To realize the nature of our\nmedical system, some knowledge of its Greek sources is essential. It\nwould indeed be a bad day for medicine if ever this debt to the Greeks\nwere forgotten, and the loss would be at least as much ethical as\nintellectual. But there is happily no fear of this, for the figure and\nspirit of Hippocrates are more real and living to-day than they have\nbeen since the great collapse of the Greek scientific intellect in the\nthird and fourth centuries of the Christian era.\n\nCHARLES SINGER.\n\n     The author has to thank Mr. R. W. Livingstone, Dr. E. T.\n     Withington, Prof. A. Platt, and Mr. J. D. Beazley for corrections\n     and suggestions.\n\n\n\n\nLITERATURE\n\n\nA man walking down Shaftesbury Avenue from Piccadilly to Charing Cross\nRoad passes the _Lyric Theatre_. If it is the evening, a _dramatic_\nperformance is probably taking place inside. It may be a _tragedy_, or\nsome form of _comedy_. If it is a _musical comedy_ and he enters, he\nwill see elaborate _scenery_ and a play which may open with a _prologue_\nand which is partly composed of _dialogue_ between the various\n_characters_, partly of songs in various _metres_ sung by a _chorus_ to\nthe accompaniment of an _orchestra_. As the words in italics indicate,\nour imaginary passer-by will have seen, though he may not have suspected\nit, a symbol of the indelible mark which the Greeks have set on the\naesthetic and intellectual life of Europe, and of the living presence of\nGreece in the twentieth century. An ancient Athenian might be startled\nat the sight of a musical comedy and its chorus, but he would be looking\nat his own child, a descendant, however distant, degenerate, and hard to\nrecognize, of that chorus which with dance and song moved round the\naltar of Dionysus in the theatre of his home.\n\nThe same imprint, clear or faint, is on all our literary forms, except\nperhaps one. Epic, lyric, elegiac, dramatic, didactic, poetry, history,\nbiography, rhetoric and oratory, the epigram, the essay, the sermon, the\nnovel, letter writing and literary criticism are all Greek by origin,\nand in nearly every case their name betrays their source. Rome raises a\ndoubtful claim to satire, but the substance of satire is present in the\nOld Comedy, and the form seems to have existed in writings now lost.\nThere are even one or two _genres_, such as the imaginary speech, which\nGreece invented and which are not, fortunately, found in modern\nliterature. When the curtain rose on Homer, European literature did not\nexist: long before it falls on the late Byzantines, the lines were laid\non which it has moved up to our own day. This is the entire work of a\nsingle people, politically weak, numerically small, materially\npoor--according to the economy of nature which in things of the mind and\nthe spirit gives a germinating power to few. The Greeks are justly\nadmired for individual poems, plays, and pieces of writing; but it was\nsomething even greater to have explored the possibilities of literature\nso far that posterity, while it has developed Greek _genres_, has not\nhitherto been able to add to them. This is one part of the Greek Legacy\nto literature.\n\nAnother part are the works themselves. Literature can only be judged by\nreading it, and certainly it cannot be characterized in a few pages. But\na man ignorant of Greek and anxious to estimate its value might form\nsome idea by inquiring the opinions of qualified judges. He would find\nthem unanimous: I suppose it is true that no man of eminence qualified\nto speak has ever spoken of Greek literature in any tone but one. The\nfirst testimony is that of the Romans. It is borne by their literature,\nstarting in translations from Greek, adopting one after another of their\n_genres_, permeated through and through (and most of all in the greatest\nwriters) by imitations, reminiscences, influences of Greek, confessing\nand glorying in the debt. 'In learning,' says Cicero, 'and in every\nbranch of literature, the Greeks are our masters.'[101] A Roman boy\nshould begin his studies with Greek, Quintilian thought, 'because Latin\nlearning is derived from Greek.'[102] The same note is repeated in the\nliterature of the Renaissance, and re-echoed by the most various voices\nof our own century.\n\n    [101] _Tusc._ 1. 1. 2.\n\n    [102] _Inst. Or._ I. 1. 12.\n\n'Though one of the Greek tragedians may seem rather greater and more\ncomplete than another, their work as a whole has a single pervading\nquality. It is marked by grandeur, excellence, sanity, complete\nhumanity, a high philosophy of life, a lofty way of thinking, a powerful\nintuition (_Anschauung_). We find these qualities in their surviving\nlyric and epic poetry as well as in their drama: we find them in their\nphilosophers, orators, and historians and, to an equally high degree, in\ntheir surviving sculpture.'[103]\n\n    [103] Goethe, _Gespr\u00e4che_, 3. 387.\n\n'Beside the great Attic poets, like Aeschylus and Sophocles, I am\nabsolutely nothing.'[104]\n\n    [104] Ibid., 3. 443.\n\n'He spoke with great animation of the advantage of classical study,\nGreek especially. \"Where,\" he said, \"would one look for a greater orator\nthan Demosthenes; or finer dramatic poetry, next to Shakspere, than that\nof Aeschylus or Sophocles, not to speak of Euripides.\" Herodotus he\nthought \"the most interesting and instructive book, next to the Bible,\nwhich had ever been written\".'[105]\n\n    [105] Wordsworth, _Table-talk_.\n\n'The period which intervened between the birth of Pericles and the death\nof Aristotle is undoubtedly, whether considered in itself or with\nreference to the effects which it has produced upon the subsequent\ndestinies of civilized man, the most memorable in the history of the\nworld.... The wrecks and fragments of these subtle and profound minds,\nlike the ruins of a fine statue, obscurely suggest to us the grandeur\nand perfection of the whole. Their very language ... in variety, in\nsimplicity, in flexibility, and in copiousness, excels every other\nlanguage of the western world.' Then, after some words on their\nsculpture, he adds: 'their poetry seems to maintain a very high, though\nnot so disproportionate a rank, in the comparison' (with other\nliteratures).[106]\n\n    [106] Shelley, _On the Manners of the Ancients_.\n\n'The Greeks are the most remarkable people who have yet existed.... They\nwere the beginners of nearly everything, Christianity excepted, of which\nthe modern world makes its boast.... They were the first people who had\na historical literature; as perfect of its kind (though not the highest\nkind) as their oratory, their sculpture, and their architecture. They\nwere the founders of mathematics, of physics, of the inductive study of\npolitics, of the philosophy of human nature and life. In each they made\nthe indispensable first steps, which are the foundation of all the\nrest.'[107]\n\n    [107] Mill, _Dissertations_, ii. 283 f.\n\n'I have gone back to Greek literature with a passion quite astonishing\nto myself.... I felt as if I had never known before what intellectual\nenjoyment was. Oh that wonderful people! There is not one art, not one\nscience, about which we may not use the same expression which Lucretius\nhas employed about the victory over superstition \"_Primum Graius homo_\".\nI think myself very fortunate in having been able to return to these\ngreat masters while still in the full vigour of life and when my taste\nand judgement are mature. Most people read all the Greek that they ever\nread before they are five-and-twenty.... A young man, whatever his\ngenius may be, is no judge of such a writer as Thucydides. I had no high\nopinion of him ten years ago. I have now been reading him with a mind\naccustomed to historical researches and to political affairs; and I am\nastonished at my own former blindness, and at his greatness. I could not\nbear Euripides at college. I now read my recantation. He has faults\nundoubtedly. But what a poet!'[108]\n\n    [108] Macaulay, _Life and Letters_, i. 43.\n\nThese men--and there is no difficulty in adding to their number--are not\nonly qualified but unprejudiced witnesses. They have no _parti pris_.\nThey cannot be accused, as schoolmasters and dons are sometimes accused,\nof holding shares in a great Trading Bank of Greece and Rome Unlimited,\nand having a personal motive for their enthusiasm. Nor can it be said\nthat they admired Greece because they knew nothing better. All--Goethe\nno less than the others--had English literature in their hands, knew it\nwell and appreciated its greatness. Yet this, given in their own words,\nis the impression which Greek made on them. _Securus iudicat orbis\nterrarum_; and the verdict here is plain. It is clear that we have in\nGreek a surviving body of poetry and prose which is of unique interest\nto any one who cares for literature.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI have tried to give a summary answer to the question, What did the\nGreeks achieve? They invented every literary _genre_ which we know, they\nlaid the lines which European literature has followed, they created a\nbody of prose and poetry which has won the homage of the world. The\nfurther question, What can the world still learn from them, is less easy\nto answer. The answer lies in Greek literature, and the essence of a\nliterature cannot be extracted and bottled in a number of abstract\nformulae. No literature is great in virtue of its qualities, which are\nalways something less than the literature itself, but only in so far as\nit expands to the breadth of the universe and climbs to its height. This\nis the final test which must be applied. How far Greek literature\nsatisfies it, can be judged from the testimonies which have been quoted\nabove.\n\nRemembering this let us deliberately narrow our view and talk of\nqualities: and here, narrowing it again, let us confine the discussion\nto certain qualities, which are found indeed in all literatures, but are\nelsewhere neither so universal nor carried to so high a power. No one\ncan think of Greek literature without thinking of them; they live on the\nlips of its admirers, and in them the inspiration of Greek literature is\nchiefly enshrined. These essential qualities are Simplicity, Perfection\nof Form, Truth and Beauty. Greek literature is much more than these\nqualities. The _Agamemnon_, the _Oedipus_, the _Bacchae_ are not to be\nexplained wholly by them. The greatness of these plays is partly\nsomething individual, and partly it is what makes _King Lear_ or\n_Faust_ or _Brand_ great: and that is neither entirely nor mainly\nsimplicity or beauty or truth or form. But my object is to emphasize\nqualities for which Greek is exceptional, and though some critics may\nhave talked of the beauty of Greek literature till beauty was absurdly\nsupposed to be its chief or only quality, they were right to recognize\nthe prominence of beauty there, and though truth is a mark of the\ngreatest writing in all languages, it is more universal in Greek than in\nany other literature.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIf a reader turned from Milton to Homer, from Shakespeare to Sophocles,\nfrom Plato or Aristotle to some modern work on ethics, politics, or\nliterary criticism, he would find one point of difference between the\nearlier and the later writers in the greater simplicity of the former.\nThey are briefer: the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ has 1530 lines while the first\ntwo acts of _Hamlet_ alone have more than 1600, and Greek histories and\nphilosophical writings are correspondingly shorter than their modern\ncounterparts. The whole of Thucydides could be printed in a twenty-four\npage issue of _The Times_, and leave room to spare; the essay of\nAristotle on Poetry, which for generations dictated the principles of\ndramatic writing, has forty-five short pages; the _Republic_ of Plato,\nwhich has influenced thought more than any other philosophic work, has a\nlittle over three hundred. Brevity indeed is not always simplicity, and\nit is possible to be at once simple and lengthy. But any one who\nexamines these Greek writers will find that they are brief, because,\navoiding bypaths and by-plots, elaboration or minute detail, they strike\nout the central features of their picture with an effortless economy of\nline. Their writing has a double quality. It shows a firm hold on the\ncentral and fundamental things: and it presents them unmixed with and\nunconfused by minor issues, so that they stand out like forest trees\nwhich no undergrowth of brushwood masks. It is important to make this\ndistinction, for all great literature has the first of these qualities;\nthe second is largely an accident of time. As civilization moves further\nfrom its origin, it cannot but receive a thousand tributaries that\ncontinually augment its volume, and colour and confuse its streams: at\nthe sources it flows clear and untroubled. The interests of an early age\nare the primal and essential interests of human nature and the\nliterature of such an age presents them unalloyed and uncomplicated by\nlesser issues. In the thinkers the main and fundamental problems stand\nclearly out, and Plato and Thucydides take us straight to them. The\npoets make their poetry from emotions and interests that are as old as\nman, and have none of the refinements and complications which education\nand a long inheritance of culture superadd to the essential stuff of\nhuman nature. 'You Greeks are always children,' said the Egyptian priest\nto Solon; and he spoke the truth in a sense which he did not mean. The\nGreeks' feelings were not dulled or sophisticated by the _damnosa\nhereditas_ of the past. Neither their life nor their mental atmosphere\nwas complicated. They had not 'thought themselves into weariness'. They\nwere the children of the world, and they united the startling acuteness,\ndirectness, and simplicity of children to the intellects of men.\n\nPater took _La Gioconda_ of Leonardo da Vinci to symbolize the\ndifference of modern and ancient art, and to illustrate the intricacy\nand complication of the former, as compared with the simplicity of the\nlatter. 'Hers is the head,' he writes of the Monna Lisa, 'upon which all\n\"the ends of the world are come\", and the eyelids are a little weary. It\nis a beauty wrought out from within upon the flesh, the deposit, little\ncell by cell, of strange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite\npassions. Set it for a moment beside one of those white goddesses or\nbeautiful women of antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this\nbeauty, into which the soul with all its maladies has passed! All the\nthoughts and experience of the world have etched and moulded there, in\nthat which they have of power to refine and make expressive the outward\nform.... She is older than the rocks among which she sits; like the\nvampire, she has been dead many times and learned the secrets of the\ngrave; and has been a diver in deep seas, and keeps their fallen day\nabout her ...; and all this lives only in the delicacy with which it has\nmoulded the changing lineaments, and tinged the eyelids and the hands.\nThe fancy of a perpetual life, sweeping together ten thousand\nexperiences, is an old one; and modern thought has conceived the idea of\nhumanity as wrought upon by, and summing up in itself, all modes of\nthought and life. Certainly Lady Lisa might stand as the embodiment of\nthe old fancy, the symbol of the modern idea.' Slightly fanciful and\nPateresque as these words are, they are substantially true, as any one\nwho sets Monna Lisa by a piece of fifth-century sculpture can easily\nsee. There is the same contrast between Greek literature and our own.\nHow 'troubled' would Homer or Sophocles be by the writings of Browning\nor Meredith, of Henry James or Conrad, in whom so many eddies and\ncross-currents of thought and experience unite.\n\nCompare the story of Hector and Andromache with some famous passage from\nany of these writers. 'So spake glorious Hector and stretched out his\narm to his boy. But the child shrunk crying to the bosom of his\nfair-girdled nurse, dismayed at the look of his dear father and in fear\nof the bronze and the horsehair crest that nodded fiercely from his\nhelmet's top. Then his dear father and his lady mother laughed aloud:\nforthwith glorious Hector took the helmet from his head and laid it, all\ngleaming, on the earth; then kissed he his dear son and danced him in\nhis arms, and spoke in prayer to Zeus and all the gods, \"O Zeus and all\nye gods, grant that this my son may be as I am, pre-eminent among the\nTrojans, and as valiant in might, and may he be a great king of Troy.\"\nSo he spoke and laid his son in his dear wife's arms; and she took him\nto her fragrant bosom, smiling through tears. And her husband had pity\nto see her and caressed her with his hand, and spoke and called her by\nher name: \"Dear one, I pray thee be not of oversorrowful heart; no man\nagainst my fate shall send me to my death; but destiny, I ween, no man\nhath escaped.\" So spake glorious Hector and took up his\nhorsehair-crested helmet; and his dear wife departed to her home, often\nlooking back and letting fall great tears. And she came to the\nwell-built house of man-slaying Hector, and found therein her many\nhandmaidens, and stirred lamentation in them all. So they wept for\nHector, while he yet lived, in his house; for they thought that he would\nno more come back to them from battle.'[109] These are emotions shared\nby mankind twenty centuries before Christ and twenty centuries after\nhim, common equally to Shakespeare or Napoleon and to the stupidest and\nleast educated of mankind; and these emotions are expressed with a\nsimplicity as elemental as themselves. Subjects as simple may be found\nin our literature; expression as direct would be hard to find. Even a\nprimitive like Chaucer is the heir of dimly apprehended inheritances\nfrom Greece and Rome, and is haunted by fancies from lost and living\nfairylands of literature. It is in our Bible that we find the elemental\nfeelings of Homer and an expression even more direct. 'And she departed\nand wandered in the wilderness of Beersheba. And the water was spent in\nthe bottle, and she cast the child under one of the shrubs. And she went\nand sat her down over against him a good way off, as it were a bowshot:\nfor she said, Let me not see the death of the child. And she sat down\nover against him, and lift up her voice, and wept.'[110]\n\n    [109] Homer, _Iliad_, vi. 466 ff. (with omissions: chiefly from the\n    translation of Lang, Leaf, and Myers). It should be remembered that,\n    of the three figures in this scene, the husband will be dead in a\n    few days, while within a year the wife will be a slave and the child\n    thrown from the city wall.\n\n    [110] Genesis xxi. 14 f.\n\nLike the writer of the Pentateuch, Homer lived in a world whose\nemotions were elemental, and writing of this kind came naturally to him.\nThe weight of tradition began to weigh on succeeding ages, but it never\nbecame heavy, because the accumulations were small and the world was\nstill comparatively simple. Also its poets and prose writers moved in\nthe fields of action as soldiers and politicians, continually\nconfronting the realities of life, and knowing them as they are, not as\nthey appear in a study. Thus their topics are central, the writing is\nsimple. The subjects of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ or the _Hercules Furens_\nmight be called morbid; but not the handling of them by Sophocles and\nEuripides. The unnatural element is in the background and almost\nunnoticed; the interest lies in the spectacle of great men in\noverwhelming disaster--an elemental theme and belonging to the general\nlife of man. The treatment is as simple as in Homer, the figures few,\nsubordinate interests out of sight, the light thrown full on the central\ntragedy. Hence comes a rare intensity, an immediacy of impression, a\nsense of nearness to the thing described, which will strike anyone who\nreads the messenger's speech in the _Hercules Furens_, or the scene\nwhere the identity of Oedipus is discovered, or indeed any great passage\nin Greek Drama. This simplicity of treatment persists, when with\nMenander and the Alexandrians we pass into a world more like our own and\nfind literature, still simple in form, but more artistic, more\nintellectual, more literary, less centrally and fundamentally human.\n\nIt would be foolish to demand that modern writers should have the\nsimplicity of Homer or the age of Pericles, or to pretend that they\ncannot be great without it. Every age must and will have its own\nliterature, reflecting the minds and circumstances of those who write\nit. Nor is the advantage entirely on the side of the Greeks. A drama of\nShakespeare or a novel of Tolstoi, with their long roll of _dramatis\npersonae_, are more like life than a Greek tragedy with its absence of\nbyplot and its few, central, characters. A modern historian would have\nrecorded and discussed aspects of the history of fifth-century Greece\nwhich Thucydides ignores. Modern literature may claim that, with less\nintensity, it has greater amplitude and a more faithful presentation of\nthe complexity of life. On the other hand the Greeks are free from that\ndominance of the abnormal which is one danger of modern literature; they\ndo not explore sexual and other aberrations or encourage their readers\nto explore them. They are also free from that dominance of the\nunessential, which, in life as in literature, is a more innocent but\nmore subtle and perhaps equally ruinous vice. That is why their\nsimplicity is refreshing and salutary. _Porro unum necessarium._ In life\nhuman beings return from a distracting variety of interests to a few\nsimple things; or, if they do not return, run the risk of losing their\nsouls. In literature, which is the shadow of life, they need to do the\nsame.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe simplicity of Greek literature is accompanied by the highest\nliterary art. Nothing could be more surprising. The primitive conditions\nthat preserve simplicity are apparently incompatible with technical\nperfection, which is a late-born child of literature and the creation of\nmatured taste, long experiment, and patient work. But in Greek, and\nperhaps only in Greek, _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ and art go hand in hand. There is\nsomething almost uncanny in Homer's union of the two: it is a paradox\nthat the character of Achilles, the death of Hector, the primitive\ncunning of Odysseus, should be portrayed in such a metre and such a\nvocabulary; it seems unnatural that so highly wrought and refined a\nmedium should be used to depict the life and ideas of a society which is\nnearer to savagery than to civilization. But unnatural or not, so it is.\n\nThe most obvious quality of Greek literature is its form, the high level\nof its technique. There are exceptions: the earlier plays of Aeschylus\nare crude in conception, the prose of Gorgias is as fantastic as that\nof Lyly, the sentences of Thucydides are often awkward and\nungrammatical; Aeschylus stands at the origin of drama, Gorgias and\nThucydides are the creators of periodic prose, and they have the\nweaknesses of pioneers. But in general, Greek work in poetry and prose\nis highly wrought and finely finished; and so rapidly did their art find\nitself, that within the lifetime of Aeschylus Sophocles reached the\nhighest level of dramatic and literary technique, and within a\ngeneration from Thucydides Plato evolved his unequalled style. An\nartistic instinct was in the blood of the Greeks, and betrays itself\nthroughout their literature, in the choric odes with their complicated\nrespondencies and subtle variations; in Plato arranging and rearranging\nthe first eight words of his _Republic_; in the interest which the\nGreeks took in the theory of literary art, seeking here as elsewhere\n\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 {logon didonai}, to give an account of their practice. How\nmuch more they reflected on it than we do, the _Rhetoric_ of Aristotle,\nthe _De Compositione_ of Dionysius and the endless writings of the\nrhetoricians show.\n\nThis is universally admitted, but justice is more rarely done to even\nclearer evidence of the Greek gift for technique. Other nations have\nunderstood the art of writing, and left those monuments in words which\nare as unsubstantial and fleeting as air, yet more imperishable than\nbrass or stone; but no nation has created literary art in the sense in\nwhich the Greeks created it, or developed, as they did, the various\nliterary _genres_ out of nothing. They had no models or guides or\nexternal help. Rome had Greek literature to follow and herself gave\npatterns to her successors; but the Greeks made what they made out of\nnothing, and are thus creators in the true sense of the word, and as no\nother people have been. Two instances, Homer and the Greek Drama, will\nserve to show this.\n\nIn the dawn of a literature at least, we expect roughness and crudity,\nan uncertain judgement and a faltering hand; but the first known Greek\npoem, like Athena in the myth, is born full grown and mature. Yet its\nmakers made the story and the rich language and the elaborate and\nunrivalled metre for themselves. It does not lessen this achievement\nthat the Homeric poems may have been the fine flower of a period of\npoetic growth; the work that went to form them was done by Greeks. But\nit needs imagination to appreciate the difficulty of the task which they\nundertook unconsciously and performed without theory or deliberate\npurpose by the mere light of nature.\n\nIt is hard to create even a primitive poetic vocabulary, where one does\nnot exist, and there is nothing primitive about\n\n    \u1f41\u03b9 \u03b4' \u1f61\u03c2 \u03c4' \u03b1\u03b9\u03b3\u03c5\u03c0\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b1\u03bc\u03c8\u03c9\u03bd\u03c5\u03c7\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03c5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\n    \u03c0\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b7 \u03b5\u03c6' \u1f51\u03c8\u03b7\u03bb\u03b7 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1 \u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03b6\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03c7\u03c9\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9,\n\n    {hoi d' h\u00f4s t' aigypioi gamps\u00f4nyches ankylocheilai\n    petr\u00ea eph' hyps\u00eal\u00ea megala klazonte mach\u00f4ntai,}\n\nor\n\n    \u1f41\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4' \u03b7\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b7\u03c1 \u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03bd \u03bf\u03c6\u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd\n    \u1f21\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03bd \u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c0\u03b9\u03b7, \u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03c3\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9 \u03bf\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c0\u03b1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd,\n    \u03c4\u03bf\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03c0\u03b9\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b5\u03c9\u03bd \u1f51\u03c8\u03b7\u03c7\u03b5\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f31\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9.[111]\n\n    {hosson d' \u00eaeroeides an\u00ear iden ophthalmoisin\n    h\u00eamenos en skopi\u00ea, leuss\u00f4n epi oinopa ponton,\n    tosson epithr\u00f4skousi the\u00f4n hyps\u00eachees hippoi.}\n\n    [111] _Iliad_, xvi. 428 f.: 'As vultures with crooked talons and\n    curved beaks that upon some high crag fight, screaming loudly.'\n    _Ibid._ v. 770 f.: 'As far as a man's view ranges in the haze, as he\n    sits on a point of outlook and gazes over the wine-dark sea, so far\n    at a spring leap the loud-neighing horses of the gods.'\n\nIt is hard, as the beginnings of Roman poetry show, to devise a metre\nwhich is not rough, unmusical, or even grotesque: yet for richness and\nstrength this first metre of Europe has never been rivalled by the\nGreeks or by any one else. The same natural technical skill appears in\nmore subtle things even than metre or language. Homer is born knowing by\nsome instinct the profound secret of literary art which Aristotle\nformulated centuries later as the principle of unity of Action. The plot\nof a play, he writes in the _Poetics_, 'should have for its subject a\nsingle action, whole and complete, with a beginning, a middle, and an\nend.... It will differ in structure from historical compositions, which\nof necessity present not a single action, but a single period, and all\nthat happened within that period to one person or to many, little\nconnected together as the events may be.... Such is the practice, we may\nsay, of most poets. Here again the transcendant excellence of Homer\nappears. He never attempts to make the whole war of Troy the subject of\nhis poem. It would have been too vast a theme, and not easily embraced\nin a single view: while if he had kept it in moderate limits it would\nhave been over-complicated by the variety of incidents. As it is, he\ndetaches a single portion.'[112] Once stated, the principle of unity of\naction becomes a commonplace of literary art. But, as the _Annals_ of\nEnnius or the _Faerie Queen_ show, it is not obvious until stated, and\nthe poets from whose practice Aristotle made his induction, must have\nhad a rare technical instinct unconsciously to preserve unity of\ninterest through the complications of a long epic or drama. Such\nachievements were only possible to a people with a natural genius for\nliterary art. In the hands of the Greeks the various elements of\nliterature found their \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2 {telos} and achieved their natural form,\nalmost with the same instinctive evolution by which a seed unfolds to\nits predestined shape.\n\n    [112] _Poetics_, c. 23 (tr. Butcher).\n\nThis can be illustrated even better from Greek drama. A modern author\nwho wishes to write a play may not find the task easy, but he knows the\ngeneral form which a drama has to take and the general principles to be\nfollowed in writing it. The right length is given him, the division into\nscenes and acts, the methods of exposition and dialogue, the conception\nof a _d\u00e9nouement_, the law of unity of action, and the rest. The fathers\nof Greek tragedy had no such help. They had no drama in our sense of the\nword, but simply a band of fifty persons dressed like satyrs, and\ndancing round an altar and singing a song. Out of this anything or\nnothing might have been made. The Greeks, with the instinctive and\nunerring motions of genius, developed from it the highest and most\nelaborate of literary forms, and within a hundred years are writing\nplays which Shelley classes with _King Lear_, and which Swinburne can\ncall, 'probably, on the whole, the greatest spiritual work of man'.\n\nIn divining the principles of literary art and evolving the various\nkinds of literature no people can be compared to the Greeks, and\nprobably none can show a mass of work executed with so uniformly high a\nfinish. But when we compare writer with writer we shall find individual\nartists to rival them. Though the strength of English literature does\nnot lie in technical perfection, Milton, Pope, and Tennyson--to name no\nothers--have in their different ways as firm a grasp of it as any Greek,\nand it can be learned from French writers, with whom it is the rule\nrather than the exception, as well as from the Greeks. This is hardly\ntrue of another quality of Greek writing, which may be classed with\ntechnical finish, though it is in fact something more. It is one of the\nmost characteristic features of Greek; yet on first acquaintance, it is\noften disconcerting and even distasteful. If a reader new to the\nclassics opened Thucydides, his first impression would probably be one\nof jejuneness, of baldness. If, fresh from Shelley or Tennyson, he came\nacross the epigram of Simonides on the Spartan dead at Thermopylae,\n\n    \u03c9 \u03be\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd', \u03b1\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u0391\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f41\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5\n      \u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1, \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1fe5\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9,[113]\n\n    {\u00f4 xein', angellein Aakedaimoniois hoti t\u00eade\n      keimetha, tois kein\u00f4n rh\u00eamasi peithomenoi,}\n\nhe might see little in it but a prosaic want of colour. This exceeding\nsimplicity or economy is a stumbling-block to those who are accustomed\nto the expansive modern manner. Yet such a reader would have been making\nthe acquaintance of some of the finest things in Greek literature, which\nis always at its greatest when most simple, and he would have been face\nto face with a characteristic quality of it.\n\n    [113] 'Stranger, tell the Spartans that we lie here, obeying their\n    words.'\n\nThe contrast with the usual English manner may be illustrated by\nquoting a famous epigram--Ben Jonson's epitaph on a boy actor:\n\n    Weep with me, all you that read\n      This little story;\n    And know, for whom a tear you shed,\n      Death's self is sorry.\n\n    'Twas a child that so did thrive\n      In grace and feature,\n    As heaven and nature seemed to strive\n      Which owned the creature.\n\n    Years he numbered scarce thirteen\n      When Fates turned cruel,\n    Yet three filled zodiacs had he been\n      The stage's jewel;\n\n    And did act (what now we moan)\n      Old men so duly,\n    As sooth the Parcae thought him one,\n      He played so truly.\n\n    So, by error, to his fate\n      They all consented;\n    But, viewing him since, alas, too late!\n      They have repented.\n\nThese lines--and they are not the whole of the poem--are enough to\nillustrate the difference between the Greek method and the English, the\nlatter rich and profuse, following the flow of an opulent fancy, the\nformer reticent and restrained, leaving the reader's imagination room\nand need to play its part. There are materials for half-a-dozen epigrams\nin Ben Jonson's poem. Had he been Simonides or Plato, he would have\nstopped after the fourth line and, in the opinion of some critics, by\nsaving his paper he would have improved his poem.\n\nIn their theory and in their practice the Greek writers were true to\nthis principle of Economy. Their proverbs proclaim it 'the half is\ngreater than the whole': 'sow with the hand and not with the whole\nsack.' The great passages of their literature illustrate it. It is to be\nfound no less in Thucydides' account of the siege of Syracuse and in the\nclose of the _Phaedo_ or the _Republic_ than in the death of Hector or\nthe meeting of Priam and Achilles. The Greek writers may have emotions\nthat would seem to demand vehement and extended expression, topics to\ninspire a poet and tempt him to amplify them; but resisting the\ntemptation they set the facts down quietly and pass on practically\nwithout comment. The close of the _Phaedo_ exemplifies this restraint.\nPlato has just related with severe economy of detail the death of his\nmaster. His comment on the event which saddened and confounded his whole\nlife is but this: 'Such, Echecrates, was the death of our friend, the\nbest man, I think, that I have ever known, the wisest too and the most\njust.'[114]\n\n    [114] _Phaedo_, 118 B.\n\nThere are noble examples of reticence and economy in English literature,\nsome of the most conspicuous of which can be traced to classical\ninfluence; but no one would contend that these qualities are the rule in\nour great writers. The English genius is rich and lavish rather than\nrestrained. It is less in its nature to write like Sappho,\n\n    \u1f19\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd \u03bf\u03c3\u03b1 \u03c6\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2' \u03b1\u03c5\u03c9\u03c2,\n    \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bf\u03b9\u03bd, \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b9\u03b3\u03b1, \u03c6\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c0\u03c5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1,[115]\n\n    {Hespere, panta pher\u00f4n osa phainolis eskedas' au\u00f4s,\n    phereis oin, pheres aiga, phereis apy materi paida,}\n\n    [115] fr. 95: 'Star of evening, bringing all things that bright dawn\n    has scattered, you bring the sheep, you bring the goat, you bring\n    the child back to its mother.'\n\nthan like Byron,\n\n    O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things--\n      Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,\n    To the young bird the parent's brooding wings,\n      The welcome stall to the o'er-laboured steer;\n    Whate'er of peace about our hearthstone clings,\n      Whate'er our household gods protect of dear,\n    Are gathered round us by thy look of rest;\n    Thou bring'st the child too to its mother's breast.\n\nSomething may be said in favour of both methods. Amplitude of treatment\nand fullness of detail enrich the imagination while economy stimulates\nit. The latter may become jejune, and is safe only in the hands of great\nwriters: the former is apt to provide too rich a feast and to leave the\nfull-fed mind inert. Everything is done for it and nothing left it to\ndo. Economy on the other hand throws the reader on his own resources. It\nsets the imagination wandering in the fields of infinity. Some readers\nfind this one of the essential delights of literature, though others\nprefer that the author should take them by the hand and indicate every\ndetail with the precision of the sign-posts at a German _Kurort_.\n\nEconomy is the reflection in literature of that \u03c3\u03c9\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b7 {s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea},\nwhich is the most deeply-rooted of Greek ideals, the most untranslatable\nof Greek words. But it was helped by an accident. If the art of printing\nwere lost, modern works would contract within narrower limits, and the\nGreek economy was encouraged by the fact that Fust was not yet born. We,\nwho do not rely on hand-copying for the propagation of our books,\nnaturally write at greater length: and while it loses in conciseness,\nliterature has a compensating gain in amplitude. But the habit of\nwriting for money, which encourages abundant production, and the\nexistence of the printing-press, which makes it easy, expose us to\ndangers from which the ancients were free. The newspapers are the worst\noffenders, saying many things which need not be said at all, and saying\neverything in a superfluous and excessive way. But literature suffers\nhardly less. The greatest figures of the last fifty years, such as\nBrowning, Meredith, Hardy and Conrad, dilute their pages with\nunessential, if not inferior, stuff, and produce writing which has not\nreceived the _summa manus_. Had their work been less by a half--a\nmodest reduction--it would have been more perfect because more time\ncould have been devoted to it, more powerful because each stroke would\nhave been precise and strong, more telling because these strokes would\nnot have been combined with ineffective blows. This is even truer of\nlesser men and other forms of literature. It is because the _Agricola_\nof Tacitus extends to but thirty pages, that the biography of a Roman\ncivil servant of no great genius will outlive those of far greater men.\nThe art of omission is the art which English writers most need to learn;\nthe literary _lima_ is their least-handled tool. Both art and tool were\nperfectly understood and constantly used by the Greeks.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe third mark of Greek Literature, with which I have to deal, is\nperhaps its most important, certainly its most universal quality. It is\ntruthfulness. The Greeks told no fewer lies than other races, but they\nhad the desire and the power to see the world as it is. By this\nessential quality they gave Europe the conception of philosophy and\nscience. These we inherit from them alone; Palestine and our German\nancestors neither created them, nor show any signs of the temper that\ncreates them, and Rome received her share from Greece.\n\nThe word 'Truthfulness' may seem to suggest the realism of some modern\nwriters. But the Greek truthfulness was different. It should be\ndistinguished from the laboured detachment and painful impartiality of\nsuch a writer as Flaubert, whose realism conceals him in the same sense\nas the walls of the engine-room conceal the panting machines within. The\nGreek Truthfulness is spontaneous, natural, and effortless--the native\nquality of the artist, who sees, and forgets himself in the vision. Nor\nhas it anything to do with photographic realism. It has not the\nimpersonality of that method or its flat and lifeless effect. A man, and\nno machine, makes the picture, feeling intensely what he sees, and\nthough this intensity does not distort his vision, we are conscious, as\nwe read, of a human personality, and we feel the electric thrill of\nlife.\n\nNor is it akin to that type of modern realism, which, like a noxious\ndrug, lays hold on the spirits and depresses the heart--the realism\nwhich paints so black a picture of human life, that it affects us\nphysically like days of continued fog, and gives us no more complete and\ntruthful a picture of the world. There is hardly any Greek writer,\nperhaps none at all, of whom this can be said. Many moderns can\nfaithfully describe what is disagreeable, but their effects are often\nbrutal and always depressing. The gift of portraying suffering and evil\nwith unflinching truth, yet of conveying other feelings than those of\nmere horror, is reserved for few. Its rarity perhaps explains the rarity\nof great tragedy, of which it seems to be a condition that it shall\ntruthfully show what is darkest in life, without leaving a final and\ndominant sense of gloom. The great Greek writers possessed this secret.\nThey are as sensitive to evil and suffering as any writer and fully as\nfaithful in recording them. But whereas other men are simply depressed\nor disgusted or appalled, lose their vital forces, and gaze in paralysed\nfascination, these writers, in virtue of a sense which is more aesthetic\nthan moral, are aware of tremendous issues, see in sordid suffering the\nagonies of a labouring universe, and feel awe and wonder, not mere\ndisgust and distress, at what human beings suffer and endure. That is\nwhy Homer leaves us with another feeling than depression, when he tells\nhow Priam begged his son's body from the man who killed him. 'So Priam\nentered unseen of them and stood near and clasped with his hands the\nknees of Achilles and kissed the terrible murderous hands that had slain\nso many of his sons. But Achilles was amazed at the sight of Priam, and\namazed were the rest, and they looked at each other. And Priam entreated\nand addressed him. \"Remember your own father, godlike Achilles: he is of\nlike years with me, and stands on the hateful road of old age. Perhaps\nthe neighbours round about harry him and there is none to keep misery\nand ruin from him. Yet when he hears that you are alive, he rejoices and\nhopes, day in, day out, to see his dear son returning from Troy. But I\nam utterly wretched, for I begat the best of sons in Troy, and none of\nthem is left. The one I had, who was the stay of Troy and its people,\nyou killed but now as he fought for his country--even Hector. Respect\nthe gods, Achilles, and pity me, and remember your own father. I am more\nunhappy than he. I have faced what no other mortal man ever yet\nfaced--to stretch my hand to the face of my sons' slayer.\"'[116] There\nis suffering and evil enough here, and there is no attempt to disguise\nor lessen them. Yet most readers, I think, would read this passage with\ndifferent feelings from those provoked by the close of _Madame Bovary_\nor of _Jude the Obscure_. Its truthfulness is neither ugly nor\ndepressing.\n\n    [116] _Iliad_, xxiv. 277 f. (with omissions).\n\nNor again is the Greek truthfulness identical with objectivity. An\nobjective writer tells his story and conveys his impressions, as far as\npossible, by relating facts without commenting upon them. Dramatists and\nnovelists are compelled by the nature of their art to be objective in\nthis sense of the word (though Fielding and Thackeray in the one field,\nand Ibsen and Shaw in the other, manage to make their comments with\ntheir own lips, not those of their characters). But such a writer would\nnot of necessity be more truthful or impartial than any one else. He can\ndistort truth as thoroughly by selecting certain facts and ignoring\nothers as by making misleading comments. He may be violently one-sided\nand present only the facts that support his view, thus indirectly\nputting himself into what he writes quite as fully as a confessed\npartizan, though less openly. Such a writer is objective, but his\nobjectivity with him is no more than a literary method. Now it is true\nthat the Greeks use this method, telling a story without personal\ncomments, not only in their epics and plays where this method is\nnatural, but also in their histories and elsewhere. Thucydides for\ninstance tells the story of a great war, yet his comments on it are few,\nand are mainly given in the dramatic and would-be objective form of\nspeeches by leading men of the day. But the Greeks have objectivity in a\nfar more important sense than this. Their objectivity is no literary\ndevice but a quality of mind. They have the power of standing aloof from\nmatters in which they are personally interested, and surveying them from\noutside like impartial spectators, with the keenest interest, but\nwithout bias. As the Delphic priestess in the act of prophecy lost her\nindividuality and became the mouthpiece of the god, so the Greek allowed\nfacts to speak for themselves, became their mouthpiece and banished the\nintrusive ego. If therefore we call the Greeks objective, all this must\nbe included in our definition of the word.\n\nWe shall understand Greek 'truthfulness' best, if, dropping\nphilosophical terms, and forgetting modern meanings, we remember a\nsaying of Anaxagoras, who, when asked for what purpose he was born,\nreplied: 'To contemplate the works of nature.' The disinterested passion\nfor contemplating things, which gathered inquiring groups round Socrates\nto discuss what justice and friendship mean, or whether goodness is\nknowledge and can be learnt, has its counterpart in literature. The\nGreeks were fascinated by the spectacle of man and the world, and their\nfascination is seen not only in their formal philosophy. Of their poets\ntoo it may be said that they were born to see the world and human\nlife--not to moralize or to indulge in sentiment or rhetoric or\nmysticism about it, but to see it. Keats's description of the poetic\ntemperament fits them closely: 'It has no self, it is everything and\nnothing.... It enjoys light and shade.... A poet is the most unpoetical\nof anything in existence, he is continually in, for, and filling some\nother body.' In such a mood men will write literature that may justly be\ncalled truthful. Avoiding the didactic, they will not distort truth to\nsuit personal bias; avoiding rhetoric, they will not sacrifice it to\nfine phrases; avoiding sentiment and fancy, they will not gratify their\nown or their hearer's feelings at the expense of truth; avoiding\nmysticism, they will not move away from facts into a world of emotions.\nTheir care will be to see things, and their delight will be in the mere\nvision. They will echo the words of Keats, 'If a sparrow comes before my\nwindows, I take part in its existence and pick about the gravel'[117]:\nthey will not treat it as Shelley treats the skylark, or even as Keats\nand Wordsworth treat the nightingale. Herein is one of the secrets of\nGreek poetry, for the Greek poets, more than any others, bring us in a\nmanner entirely simple and natural into immediate contact with what they\ndescribe, and thus escape the thousand distortions for which epigram,\nrhetoric, sentiment, fancy, mysticism and romanticism are responsible.\nThis secret may be called 'directness'. It is the habit of looking\nstraight and steadily at things, and describing them as they are, the\nvery contrary of the habit of didactic comment and of rhetorical or\nemotional inflation. The 'direct' writer, in the fullest extent that is\npossible, keeps himself and his feelings in the background. He does not\nallow the mists which rise from a man's personality to come between him\nand his subject.\n\n    [117] I have taken these quotations of Keats from Bradley, _Oxford\n    Lecture on Poetry_, p. 238.\n\nA few instances of directness will give a better idea of it than many\ndefinitions. The epigram quoted a few pages back shows how the Greek\nwriter lets his subject speak instead of expressing his own feelings\nabout it. So does the following epitaph, placed by a father on his son's\ngrave.\n\n    \u0394\u03c9\u03b4\u03b5\u03ba\u03b5\u03c4\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1 \u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b8\u03b7\u03ba\u03b5 \u03a6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b9\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u03b5\u03bd\u03b8\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd \u03b5\u03bb\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1 \u039d\u03b9\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b7\u03bd.[118]\n\n    {D\u00f4deket\u00ea ton paida pat\u00ear apeth\u00eake Philippos\n      enthade t\u00ean poll\u00ean elpida Nikotel\u00ean.}\n\n    [118] Callimachus, _Epigr._ 20: 'His father Philip laid here to rest\n    his twelve-year old son, his high hope, Nicoteles.'\n\nThe bereaved father says nothing of his sorrow, or the greatness of his\nloss, but records his son's name and age and says that he was his\nfather's 'high hope', and so doing gives us everything. Simonides does\nnot express his own feelings about the heroism of the Spartan dead;\ntheir grave speaks for them to the passer-by. Nor is this a mere\nliterary method, a way of writing which states facts and leaves them to\nmake an impression by their own weight, unaided by comment or\nexplanation. A comparison of Ben Jonson's epigram with the Greek\nepitaph, will show that directness is much more than this. The fancies\nwith which Jonson closes are pretty; but they are false, for they are\nreally incompatible with deep feeling: the Greek directness never loses\nfrom sight the dead child; it sees only that and the father's sorrow.\n\nThe following extract deals with a very different subject, but\nillustrates directness equally well. The scene is the Athenian colony of\nAmphipolis on the Struma; the dramatis personae are the Spartan general\nBrasidas who wishes to capture it, and the Athenian Thucydides who was\nthen at Thasos, distant half a day's sail from Amphipolis. 'As soon as\nThucydides heard the news about Brasidas, he sailed quickly to\nAmphipolis ... in order to garrison it if possible before it could\ncapitulate, or at any rate to occupy Eion (its seaport). Meanwhile\nBrasidas, fearing the arrival of the Athenian fleet at Thasos and\nhearing that Thucydides ... was one of the leading men of the country,\ndid his utmost to get possession of the city before he arrived.... He\ntherefore offered moderate terms.... These terms were accepted, and the\ncity was surrendered to him. On the evening of the same day Thucydides\nand his ships sailed into Eion, but not until Brasidas had taken\npossession of Amphipolis: another night, and he would have seized\nEion.'[119] The gist of the story contained in this extract is plain.\nThe Spartan general Brasidas seized the important town of Amphipolis,\nand the Athenian general came too late to save it. But who would guess\nthat the Athenian general Thucydides was the historian Thucydides who\nwrote these words, and that the episode which he here describes with\nsuch detachment and neutrality earned him perpetual exile under pain of\ndeath, from the country which he passionately loved? Thucydides has told\nthe bare facts, objectively, as if they related to some one else,\nwithout a comment, without a word of protest, excuse, explanation or\nregret on the crowning disaster of his life. He writes of himself in the\nthird person. This is not the way in which modern generals write of\ntheir mishaps, but it is the Greek way. Thucydides has forgotten himself\nand his feelings; he sees only the disastrous day when he sailed up the\nStruma with his ships and found the gates of Amphipolis closed against\nhim. He ignores himself so far that he does not call it disastrous,\nthough disastrous it was for himself and his country. With the same\ndetachment he speaks of the enslavement of Melos and the tragedy of\nSyracuse, though he thinks, and makes us feel, that the one was the\ncrowning crime, the other the crowning disaster of his country. He\nnarrates the plain facts and leaves the reader to draw his inferences.\nIf we did not know that he was an Athenian, we could hardly tell from\nhis history whether he took the side of Athens or Sparta in the war; so\nentirely are he and his feelings kept in the background. Yet he was an\nardent patriot, and he is describing the war in which his country lost\nsupremacy and empire. No historian of the war of 1914-18, whether on the\nAllied or the German side, is likely to write of it in this way.\n\n    [119] _Thuc._ iv. 104, 105, 106 (tr. Jowett, mainly).\n\nThe art of Homer has the same quality of detachment. He is a Greek,\nwriting of a ten years' war between Greeks and Asiatics, yet most of his\nreaders sympathize with Hector rather than with Achilles. He himself\npreferred neither, but saw and felt equally with both; with the hero who\nfought the losing battle for Troy, and with him who lost his friend,\nand, intoxicated with sorrow, could see and feel nothing but a passion\nof revenge. It would seem hardly possible to write the close of the 22nd\nBook of the _Iliad_, where the heroes meet, without taking sides; we, no\ndoubt, should take Hector's side. But Homer stands apart from the\nquarrel, and sees both men and the feelings of both, writing with the\npen of the Recording Angel, not of the Judge. What he or Thucydides\nthought in each case can only be guessed at. They have presented the\nfacts without comment, and the facts tell their own tale, explain\nthemselves, carry with them the feelings they should evoke, and shine by\ntheir own light, like the phosphorescence of the sea.\n\nLittle thinking is needed to see that the direct, detached, objective\ntemper is the generative principle of the Greek achievement, for it is\nthe parent of science and philosophy, which are the children of a desire\nto see things in themselves as they are, and not as the seer might wish\nthem to be. The effects of this temper in poetry can be appreciated by a\ncomparison of certain phenomena of our own literature which are absent\nfrom Greek. The comparison will indicate, too, what modern writers can\nlearn from the Greeks, and enable us to judge whether the lessons are\nneeded.\n\nThe habit of keeping the eye on the subject, which is the essence of\ndirectness, discourages, and indeed excludes, conventionality,\nsentimentalism, fancifulness, which prevent a writer from seeing and\nrecording life as it is. These failings are always with us, and as I\nhave given one instance of their working in Ben Jonson's epigram and\nhave discussed the matter elsewhere,[120] I shall pass to diseases which\nare more particularly modern, and with which directness is equally at\nwar.\n\n    [120] _The Greek Genius and its Meaning to us_, pp. 74 ff.\n\nThe richness of the English language is in itself a danger. English,\nlike Latin, lends itself superbly to ranting, a capacity discovered by\nthe Elizabethans. Modern writers tend to more delicate excess, and have\nexploited the musical quality of English. This is clear from such a\ncollection as the _Oxford Book of Victorian Verse_, which faithfully\nrepresents the output of the age, and contains some fine poetry, but\nalso a very large percentage of what Horace called, _Versus inopes rerum\nnugaeque canorae_. There is an intolerable deal of sack to a very little\nbread among the imitators of Tennyson. To such rhetorical or musical\ntrifles no better antidote can be found than Greek literature, for there\nis no rhetoric in it, and what melodious nothings it contained, were\nparodied in its own age and have scantily survived to ours. In general\nit avoided both by its directness. The rhetoric of Lucan or Byron, the\npredominance of sound over sense in some of Shelley and much of\nSwinburne arise because those poets shut their eyes to the real world\nand become lost in the music of words. The Greek, starting with facts,\nnot with sounds or with feelings about facts, could not easily become\nthe victim of words. The temptation did not arise for him, or if it did,\nhis sin was easily detected. Herein he is a good model, especially for\npoets who are apt to lose sight of the earth and pass into an unearthly\nparadise of vague feelings. For the greatest poetry is the poetry of\nthings, not of words, and to whatever regions the Muse may take her\nflight, she can only be safe if she starts from Earth, and keeps her\ncommunication with it open.\n\nDirectness is also a protection against that literature of egotism which\nis the excess into which subjective poetry easily falls. Legitimate when\nkept within bounds, the habit of putting oneself into what one writes\ncan become an offence, and from this offence English literature is not\nfree. No one can complain because Milton and Wordsworth are less\ndetached than Shakespeare or Sophocles; but the subjectivity of Byron or\nCarlyle is very different. Their subject is continually darkened by the\nshadow of their personality; it suffers a partial, at times a total,\neclipse. Childe Harold sees himself in all that he sees, projects\nhimself into Belgium, Athens and Rome, and colours the bluest skies with\nthe jaundiced hues of his temperament. This is almost equally true of\nCarlyle's pupils, Ruskin and Froude, and, among the moderns, of a swarm\nof minor poets and novelists, who display before the public the pageant\nof their indignant or bleeding hearts. Egotism is a fault of manners as\nmuch as of morals, and has its peculiar effect and its appropriate\npenalty. Its effect is to distract a man's attention from major to minor\nissues, from the large world to the small self; its penalty is that it\nwearies its audience, and the next generation, if not its own, dislikes\nthe continual obtrusion of an element in which it has no interest. Hence\noblivion, often unjust, is the punishment which the egotist suffers.\nEven our age, interested as it is in personalities, has little time to\nspare for those of Byron or Carlyle; it is too busy with the characters\nof its own contemporaries to trouble about those of its predecessors.\nBut no Greek writer is forgotten for this cause. Whatever their other\noffences, the Greeks are free from literary egotism. Directness turned\ntheir eyes to the external world, and taught them to see even themselves\nfrom without.\n\nEgotism is a minor defect in English literature. To some it may even\nseem to be a virtue. A more serious weakness, which our literature\nshares with other modern literatures, is one-sidedness or incompleteness\nof view, which reveals itself by a series of reactions, and in England\nhas taken the form of an oscillation between sentimentalism and a rather\ncruel realism, the latter being dominant at the present time. These two\nschools represent excesses of temperament, the one of generosity and\nkindliness, the other of truth; and among our writers of genius Dickens\nand Hardy typify them well. The one school desire in fiction to reward\ntheir good characters and punish the bad, just as they would wish that\nlife should do; and truth is not allowed to thwart their benevolence or\ntheir indignation. In defiance of all probability Micawber and Mr. Mell\nmake a success of life in Australia, though truth cries out that they\nwere born to be failures; while the foot of punishment moves more\nswiftly and visibly in the pages of Dickens than it does in fact. Then\ncomes the veracious person, who, growing indignant at a travesty of life\nthat misleads the reader and insults truth, gives us the opposite\nextreme in an imagined world where the shadows are deepened and the high\nlights carefully blocked out. Scott and Dickens picture a world in which\nat the end vice finds itself in the gutter while virtue marries the\nheroine. Later, Thomas Hardy has given us _Jude the Obscure_ and _Tess\nof the D'Urbervilles_.[121] Here is a protest, a redressing of the\nbalance, by an advocate who rises to supply a side of the case which has\nbeen ignored. Yet once again Truth is violated, and by her sworn\nservant; for the world that Hardy portrays is not the world as it is.\nWhen Dickens makes Mr. Micawber the District Magistrate of Port\nMiddlebay, he is not representing life, but saying what he and his\naudience would like to believe in order to feel comfortable when they\nclose the book. As a protest therefore against him in the next\ngeneration comes Thomas Hardy, who after recording the miserable end of\nTess, writes 'The President of the immortals had ended his sport with\nTess'. In so writing he is no true recorder any more than was Dickens,\nbut the self-appointed Judge of a universe which he conceives to be\ncruel.\n\n    [121] In these novels and in _The Dynasts_ Mr. Hardy allows his\n    personal views to depress one side of the scales: in his lesser\n    novels he has often shown that he can hold the balance even. This\n    distinction should be borne in mind in all the criticisms of his\n    work, which I have ventured to make.\n\nNeither Dickens nor Hardy can be called unveracious writers; both give a\npicture of life that is true up to a point. Hardy, in particular, errs\nless by distortion than by omission; he sees one side of life, but at\nthe expense of another side; he fails to hold the balance fairly, and\nlacks the large charity of the universe. Both writers are incomplete. No\none could say of them, what is completely true of most Greek writers and\nlargely true of all, that they see life steadily and see it whole. Still\nless can this be said of their followers, who, after the fashion of\ndisciples, imitate and develop their defects, and oscillate between\nsentimental falsity, and the starkness and brutality which have been\nfamiliar in English literature during the last twenty years and in\nFrench literature for a much longer period. None of these writers, not\neven the best, is direct. Like Dickens, they consult their generous\nhearts, or, worse, ask: 'Can truth be told without making the public\nangry?' Or, like Hardy, they veil a didactic purpose under the name of\nrealism, and register a bitter personal protest against the cruelty of\nlife. In either case they narrow their view, and see the world through a\nmist of temperament.\n\nThis point may be illustrated by examining a famous passage from Homer,\nand then asking how a sentimental and a realistic writer might have\ntreated it. Imagine the death of Hector in the hands of Dickens or\nHardy. The first most probably would not have permitted it to occur, or,\nif he had, would have made Achilles the villain of the piece and\nemphasized and developed the tragedy in the manner of his death scenes,\ntill he had wearied the reader with pathos. Confronted with such a\ntragedy he would have given the rein to emotion. Mr. Hardy, we may\nguess, would be impressed less by the pathos of the scene, than by the\nsavagery of Achilles and the misgovernment of a universe in which such\nthings were possible, and he would not have let these morals escape his\nreaders. By small touches, by stressing suitable incidents, he would\nhave made the tragedy more tragic, and the brutality more brutal. It is\nthus that he has treated the death of Jude. By so doing, both Dickens\nand Hardy in their different ways, would have been allowing their own\npersonalities rather than the facts to speak, and, seeing only one side\nof the story, would have made it less complicated than life and less\ncomplete. But in the _Iliad_ we see nothing of Homer's personality and\nhear no voice but that of the facts. The story tells itself without the\nheightening of artifice. The two men are brought before our\neyes--Hector, the last hope of Troy, with his wife and child waiting for\nhim at home--Achilles, mad with the memory of his dead friend. There is\nno judgement and no comment, but only the thing as it was.\n\nTo those who would maintain that Dickens or Hardy give an accurate\npicture of the world, there are two answers. First, their world is not\nthe world as Shakespeare or Meredith sees it; this for many persons will\nbe a sufficient disproof of its reality. Second, the history of English\nand French literatures has been for the last 150 years a history of\nsuccessive reactions. The classical school was followed by the\nromantics, the romantics by the realists; each was a protest and a\nreaction against its predecessor. These swerving movements must have a\ncause. Now there are no reactions in literature unless there is some\nexcess to provoke them. The existence of a reaction is a symptom of\ndisease, and not only would it never take place apart from disease, but\nthere is always a chance that it may go too far; for as in the body, so\nin the world of letters, a balance once disturbed is difficult to\nrestore. But Greek literature, unlike our own and unlike French, at no\nstage developed by reaction. Its epic poets are followed by the lyrists\nand these by the tragedians: tragedy passes into the New Comedy, which\nis followed by the learned and artistic poetry of Alexandria. In prose\nthe unperiodic style of Herodotus is succeeded by the style of\nThucydides; while Plato and the various orators develop different types\nof writing. None of these styles, however, and none of these writers,\nare in reaction against one another. Some traces of reaction against\nthe Homeric outlook of Sophocles may perhaps be found in Euripides. But\nthis contrast lies between two individual writers and not between two\nliterary schools, and has no analogy with the relation of the romantic\nto the classical or to the realist movements. It is far less marked, for\ninstance, than the contrast between Voltaire and Victor Hugo or that\nbetween Victor Hugo and Flaubert. There is no reaction in the\ndevelopment of Greek literature, because at no stage is there any excess\nto react from; and there is no excess, because the Greek writers are\ndirect and objective, because they are mirrors that reflect life, not\nimperfect lenses that distort it each according to its own imperfection.\n\nThe literature of the Elizabethans here resembles Greek. It is indeed\nmore wayward, more fanciful, more personal, more luxuriant than the\nGreek; but it is on the whole more disinterested, freer from any\ndidactic bent, more inclined to contemplate life for its own sake than\nthe literature of any succeeding epoch in England. Since the Puritans a\ndidactic strain has continually appeared in our writers. We have had\nrevolts and protests, and then, by reaction, more protests and revolts.\nHowever admirable in morals, this Protestantism is injurious in\nliterature, for, like all rebellions, it ends in excess and destroys the\neven-balanced temper which is essential to the creation of the greatest\nliterature. This didactic temper, often disguised as realism, has never\nbeen stronger than in our own age, when many who might have found their\nprofession in the Churches are diverted to other paths and seek in\nliterature an outlet that in the past would have been found in the\npulpit. Messrs. Wells, Shaw, Galsworthy--to mention no others--are\nparsons _manqu\u00e9s_, who were designed by nature to write not plays or\nnovels but sermons. Or rather they are dual personalities: clergyman and\ncreative writer have been combined in them and the clergyman has\ncorrupted the poet. The unsatisfied appetite for preaching which a\nhundred years ago would have been quieted by writing an evangelical\ntract, to-day issues in a novel or a play. The moral differs, the form\nchanges, the intention and temper are the same.\n\nIt is ungrateful to cavil at this moralizing and didactic temper, which\nanimates a large part of the nation and is responsible for much of the\nBritish achievement. But its place is in the world of action not in that\nof letters, and it does not produce the greatest literature or the\ntruest thought. The Greeks might have gained by a greater infusion of\nit: we, on the other hand, can learn something from their intellectual\ndisinterestedness which in political and social controversies would make\nopposing views more intelligible and the path to truth easier and\nplainer, in literature would free us from excesses that are followed by\nreaction to a contrary excess, and in national life would guard us from\nthe materialism which besets an industrial and commercial age. It is not\nconfined to the Greeks; but by no people is the ideal of intellectual\ntruth more clearly and universally exhibited than by those who first\nbrought it into an indifferent world, and who built upon it their\nliterature and art no less than their science and philosophy.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe last quality of Greek literature of which I wish to speak is not one\nwhich we should expect to find in combination with truthfulness; it is\ncertainly very rare in modern realists. Yet the Greek instinct for\nbeauty is beyond question. There is the evidence of Winckelmann, who,\nliving in a world that had forgotten Greek, rediscovered it; or of\nKeats, who was not brought up to the familiarity with Greek that breeds\nobtuseness and indifference, but made acquaintance with it when he was\nof an age to judge. The impression made both on Keats and Winckelmann is\nthat of a new and surpassing beauty. There is the evidence of 'the\nbeautiful mythology of Greece',[122] the offspring of an untaught\nfolk-imagination, and so far richer in the quality of beauty than the\nmythology of the North. Even in the sawdust of a mythological dictionary\nthe stories of Atalanta, Narcissus, Pygmalion, Orpheus and Eurydice,\nPhaethon, Medusa keep their magic.\n\n    [122] Keats, _Preface to Endymion_.\n\nThe following extract from the hymn of Demeter may illustrate this\nbeauty, though it is not one of the greatest passages of Greek\nliterature and its writer is unknown. It is the story of the Earth\nMother and her daughter Persephone:\n\n                         \u1f21\u03bd \u0391\u03b9\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2\n    \u1f21\u03c1\u03c0\u03b1\u03be\u03b5\u03bd, \u03b4\u03c9\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5 \u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u03c5\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03c5\u03bf\u03c0\u03b1 \u0396\u03b5\u03c5\u03c2,\n    \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bd \u03a9\u03ba\u03b5\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b2\u03b1\u03b8\u03c5\u03ba\u03bf\u03bb\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\n    \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03b5\u03b1 \u03c4' \u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd, \u1fe5\u03bf\u03b4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c1\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03b7\u03b4' \u03b9\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\n    \u03bb\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd' \u03b1\u03bc \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b7\u03b4' \u1f51\u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03bd\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\n    \u03bd\u03b1\u03c1\u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8', \u1f41\u03bd \u03c6\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5 \u03b4\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03c9\u03c0\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b7\n    \u0393\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u0394\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b2\u03bf\u03c5\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c7\u03b1\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7 \u03a0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03ba\u03c4\u03b7,\n    \u03b8\u03b1\u03c5\u03bc\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c9\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u00b7 \u03c3\u03b5\u03b2\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf \u03b3\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u03b9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9\n    \u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b7\u03b4\u03b5 \u03b8\u03bd\u03b7\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2\u00b7\n    \u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf \u1fe5\u03b9\u03b6\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f11\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03c0\u03b5\u03c6\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9,\n    \u03ba\u03c9\u03b6' \u1f21\u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4' \u03bf\u03b4\u03bc\u03b7, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b4' \u03bf\u03c5\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b8\u03b5\n    \u03b3\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03c2' \u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f01\u03bb\u03bc\u03c5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u03bc\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2.\n    \u1f21 \u03b4' \u03b1\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03c2' \u03c9\u03c1\u03b5\u03be\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf \u03c7\u03b5\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f01\u03bc' \u03b1\u03bc\u03c6\u03c9\n    \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03b8\u03c5\u03c1\u03bc\u03b1 \u03bb\u03b1\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u00b7 \u03c7\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c7\u03b8\u03c9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c5\u03c1\u03c5\u03b1\u03b3\u03c5\u03b9\u03b1\n    \u039d\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bc \u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c4\u03b7 \u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03be \u03a0\u03bf\u03bb\u03c5\u03b4\u03b5\u03b3\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd\n    \u1f31\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9[123]\n\n                          {h\u00ean Aid\u00f4neus\n    h\u00earpaxen, d\u00f4ken de baryktypos euryopa Zeus,\n    paizousan kour\u00easi syn \u00d4keanou bathykolpois\n    anthea t' ainymen\u00ean, rhoda kai krokon \u00ead' ia kala\n    leim\u00f4n' am malakon kai agallidas \u00ead' hyakinthon\n    narkisson th', hon physe dolon kaluk\u00f4pidi kour\u00ea\n    Gaia Dios boul\u00easi charizomen\u00ea Polydekt\u00ea,\n    thaumaston gano\u00f4nta; sebas to ge pasin idesthai\n    athanatois te theois \u00eade thn\u00eatois anthr\u00f4pois;\n    tou kai apo rhiz\u00eas hekaton kara exepephykei,\n    k\u00f4z' h\u00eadist' odm\u00ea, pas d' ouranos eurys hyperthe\n    gaia te pas' egelasse kai halmyron oidma thalass\u00eas.\n    h\u00ea d' ara thamb\u00easas' \u00f4rexato chersin ham' amph\u00f4\n    kalon athyrma labein; chane de chth\u00f4n euryagyia\n    Nysion am pedion, t\u00ea orousen anax Polydegm\u00f4n\n    hippois athanatoisi}.\n\n    [123] _Hymn to Demeter_, l. 2 ff. The translation is mainly from\n    Pater, _Greek Studies_. 'Whom, by the consent of far-seeing,\n    deep-thundering Zeus, Aidoneus carried away, as she played with the\n    deep-bosomed daughters of Ocean, gathering flowers in a meadow of\n    soft grass and roses and crocus and fair violets and iris and\n    hyacinths and the strange glory of the narcissus which the Earth,\n    favouring the desire of Aidoneus, brought forth to snare the\n    flower-like girl. A wonder it was to all, immortal gods and mortal\n    men. A hundred blossoms grew up from the roots of it, and very sweet\n    was its scent, and the broad sky above, and all the earth and the\n    salt wave of the sea laughed to see it. She in wonder stretched out\n    her two hands to take the lovely plaything: thereupon the wide-wayed\n    earth opened in the Nysian plain and the king of the great nation of\n    the dead sprang out with his immortal horses.'\n\nTurn from this to some parallel poem in English literature, such as\n_Oenone_ or _Tithonus_. Beautiful as Tennyson is, the Greek has a better\nbeauty, a beauty not of words or metaphors or highly-wrought art, but\nsimpler, more spontaneous and more instinctive, as though not man but\nnature herself was speaking. Two writers, who are qualified to judge by\nbeing themselves among the great poets of the world, and who knew and\nappreciated other literatures, but speak in this way about Greek alone,\nhave testified to the uniqueness of this beauty. Goethe says stiffly but\nprecisely: 'in the presence of antiquity the mind feels itself placed in\nthe most ideal state of nature; and even to this day the Homeric hymns\nhave the power of freeing us, at any rate, for moments, from the\nterrible burden which the tradition of many hundreds of years has rolled\nupon us.' In these words Goethe has touched on the simplicity and the\nnaturalness of Greek beauty, in contrast to the more exotic and\nelaborate beauty of which mediaeval and modern art and literature are\nfull. Keats writing about the Grecian urn also had in his mind the\nliberating power of Greek beauty:\n\n    Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought\n    As doth eternity; Cold Pastoral!\n    When old age shall this generation waste\n      Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe\n    Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayst,\n    'Beauty is truth, truth beauty'--that is all\n      Ye know on earth and all ye need to know.\n\nThese words point to another trait of Greek beauty, which any one who\nhas seen Greek statues must have felt: it does not provoke speculation\njust as it does not excite desire, because no elements are mingled with\nit that might stir such feelings. It has no admixture, but is mere\nbeauty, sought for itself.\n\nNot only is Greek beauty different in quality from our own, but it is\nmore abundant. This surely would be the verdict of an impartial critic\nwho compared Homer, the lyrists, the tragedians, Plato, Theocritus, the\nepigrammatists, with the corresponding names in modern literatures. It\namounts to a different way of viewing the world; the Greeks were more\nsensitive to beauty than we are, just as some people are more sensitive\nthan others to colours or sounds, to moral or intellectual issues. This\nis curiously illustrated in their treatment of tragic themes. There is\nno want of tragedy in Homer or the dramatists--their view of life is\nprobably darker than our own--and they have been praised for a pessimism\nthat faced and admitted the black truth. Yet the cloud of evil is\ncontinually broken by rays of beauty. Thus Homer lights up the tragic\nparting of Hector and Andromache by the story of the child and the\nnodding plumes, yet does not use the incident, as many writers would\nhave used it, to heighten the tragedy, which indeed it neither\nemphasizes nor diminishes: it is merely a gratuitous touch of delight in\nchildren, as accidental and natural as the brighter moments which, in\nlife if not in realistic novels, diversify the darkest hours. Thus too\nAeschylus preludes the bloody slaughter of Salamis with the white horses\nof the dawn, the echoes in the cliffs, the foam whitening beneath the\noars, and when he speaks of the island where the Persians are butchered,\ndoes not forget the dances in which Pan rejoiced there of old. Thus,\nagain, one of the most tragic moments in the _Hippolytus_ is followed by\nthe song,\n\n    Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding,\n      In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod;\n    Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding,\n      As a bird among the bird-droves of God!\n        Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar\n        Of the deep Adriatic on the shore,\n    Where the water of Eridanus is clear,\n      And Pha\u00ebthon's sad sisters by his grave\n    Weep into the river, and each tear\n      Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave.[124]\n\n    [124] ll. 732 f. (tr. Murray).\n\nThe union of beauty and tragedy may be a paradox, but no reader can miss\nits power. The mere story of Hector's death as told by Homer is\npoignant, even when read in an English translation: the magic of the\noriginal language and metre doubles the effect. The combination of these\ntwo apparently inconsistent things, which is one of the marks of Greek\npoetry, is, of course, found in other literatures; the description of\nOphelia's death in _Hamlet_ is an instance of it. But no drama except\nGreek has that regular interweaving of tragedy with exquisite lyrics by\nwhich some of its most powerful effects are secured.\n\nEffect is the wrong word to use, for we have here no literary trick, but\na view of life, which is naturally complete and clearsighted, which is\nsensitive to the beauty that no evil can destroy, which sees the\nsplendour in tragedy itself, and remembers that though the days of\ndarkness are many it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun.\nThis philosophy, implied throughout Greek literature, commends it to\nmany people. Those who disagree with the philosophy will not quarrel\nwith the beauty itself. Hellenism is one of the forces which are\ncontinually being buried and re-found, and which, like talismans, have a\ndisturbing power when they fall afresh into human hands. Those who read\nthe literature of the age which rediscovered Greek will see that it\nbrought above all a sense of liberation and expansion. At the\nRenaissance as in the eighteenth century, Greece found the world in\nchains, and broke them and threw down the prison walls. The fetters of\nthe two epochs were different, but freedom was brought, at the\nRenaissance partly, and in the age of Winckelmann entirely, by the\nvision of beauty which Greece exhibited. Our own age has many chains and\nknows well the burden of which Goethe spoke. It has multiplied ugliness\nfar faster than beauty, and its writers, prolific, interesting, and\nthoughtful as they are, do not help it here. It may well find, as other\nages have found, in this quality of Greek literature a healing and\nliberating power.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nEnglish literature is surpassed by none, but its defects or dangers are\nat points where Greek is strong. Greek simplicity recalls us to the\ncentral interests of the human heart. Greek truthfulness is a challenge\nto see the world as it is and shun the emptiness of mere music, the\nfalsities of rhetoric or sentiment, the incompleteness of writers who,\ninstead of seeing life as a whole, ignore or emphasize a part of it as\ntheir own sympathies dictate. Greek beauty is a memorial of an aspect of\nthe universe to which ages of thought are often blind. Greek technique\nis a lesson in 'form' and a reminder of its place in literature.\n\nNor is the study of Greek a danger to our national genius. Contact with\nhighly developed foreign models may warp or cramp a literature in its\ninfancy, but cannot harm it when full grown and robust. The native\ncharacter is then too firmly established to be corrupted, and it is pure\ngain to have another standard for comparison, for detection of\nweaknesses and their cure. A reference to English literature will\nsupport this view and show that though the influence of Greek there has\noften been great, it has not been distorting. Consider the English poets\nwho owe most to Greece--Milton, Gray, Shelley, Keats, Landor, Tennyson,\nMatthew Arnold, Swinburne, Bridges. It would puzzle any critic to find a\ncommon denominator between these men, or to trace back to Greece any\nuniversal feature in their poetry, except perhaps perfection of form.\nTechnical perfection is not so serious or frequent a vice in English\nwriters, that it can be complained of, and even this common element\nvanishes, if we add to the poets already quoted the Brownings, who\nprized and understood Greek and the Greek spirit as well as any of them.\n\nAt first sight it may seem strange that Shelley and Keats, Arnold and\nSwinburne, who were not merely passionate admirers of Greece but drew\ntheir chief inspiration from her, should be so different in style and\nmatter. The explanation is simple. Some influences are tyrannous; they\nimpose themselves, they dominate, they enslave. But there is a better\nand rarer type of influence, which stimulates and inspires yet leaves\nthe poet free to develop his own genius with enlarged horizons and\nquickened sensibilities. Greek influence on our writers has been of this\nkind; perhaps because its literature is singularly free from the\nartifice and mannerism which lend themselves to mimicry and seems like\nNature with her many voices speaking.\n\nR. W. LIVINGSTONE.\n\n\n\n\nHISTORY\n\n\nI\n\n_The Relationship between Ancient Greek and Modern Western Civilization_\n\nAncient Greek society perished at least as long ago as the seventh\ncentury A. D. Many historians would date its death a good many centuries\nearlier, and all would agree that even if there are symptoms that life\nstill lingered in the body down to this time, its mental and physical\nenergies had long failed, and that the change from lethargy to death was\nhardly perceptible when it came. Thus even on the most cautious\nreckoning, there is an interval of thirteen centuries between the close\nof Greek history and our own times, and the great age of Greek\nhistory--the time when Ancient Greek society was in its prime, when it\nwas shaping its own destiny and deflecting the destiny of its\nneighbours--is separated from our generation by more than two thousand\nyears. What legacy has come down, through these great periods of time,\nfrom Ancient Greek society to the contemporary world? Before trying to\nanswer this big question, let us consider a smaller one: What is the\nlegacy of Ancient Greek History to our own society? That portion of\ncontemporary humanity which inhabits Western Europe and America\nconstitutes a specific society, for which the most convenient name is\n'Western Civilization', and this society has a relationship with Ancient\nGreek society which other contemporary societies--for instance, those of\nIslam, India, and China--have not. It is its child.\n\nThis description of the relationship between Ancient Greece and the\nmodern Western world may be something more than a metaphor, for\nsocieties like individuals are living creatures, and may therefore be\nexpected to exhibit the same phenomena. At any rate the metaphor\nillustrates the facts. To begin with, the histories of the two societies\noverlap. The origins of modern Western society may be traced back a\ncentury or two before the Christian era, when the lands and races of\nWestern Europe came into contact with the Levant, where Greek society\nhad grown up and was then in its maturity. The germ of Western society\nfirst developed in the body of Greek society, like a child in the womb.\nThe Roman Empire was the period of pregnancy during which the new life\nwas sheltered and nurtured by the old. The 'Dark Age' was the crisis of\nbirth, in which the child broke away from its parent and emerged as a\nseparate, though naked and helpless, individual. The Middle Ages were\nthe period of childhood, in which the new creature, though immature,\nfound itself able to live and grow independently. The fourteenth and\nfifteenth centuries, with their marked characteristics of transition,\nmay stand for puberty, and the centuries since the year 1500 for our\nprime. The metaphor works out sufficiently well to throw light on our\nparticular problem: the legacy bequeathed to the Modern West by Ancient\nGreece.\n\nChildren 'inherit' from their parents in several senses of the word.\nThere are features and instincts physically transmitted from the one to\nthe other. There are imitations in early childhood of the parent's\nspeech and gesture which are not perhaps strictly predetermined by the\nrelationship, but which are yet performed subconsciously and are in fact\nso inevitable that the child is never aware that it is exercising choice\nin the matter. And there is deliberate and conscious imitation at a\nlater stage when the child is sufficiently mature to appreciate its\nparent's character. These several forms of 'legacy' from parent to child\ndiffer primarily in the extent to which the acceptance and use of them\ndepends upon the child's own will, and it will probably be admitted that\nthe legacies which are the less certain to be transmitted are also the\nmore important if the transmission happens to take place. For example, a\nchild's life and character are more affected by deliberate imitation of\nits parent at a relatively advanced age than by the unchosen inheritance\nof some particular colour of hair and eye or shape of chin or pitch of\ntemperament. On the other hand, while the inheritance of these latter\ncharacteristics from one among a limited number of ancestral strains is\ninevitable, the voluntary legacy may never be transmitted at all. The\nchild will not claim it unless he knows his parent and admires or\nrespects him. The parent's premature death or removal or the lack of\nsufficient sympathy between the parent and the child can in this case\ninhibit the transmission, and the potential legacy, with its momentous\npossibilities of influence upon the child's career, will never in fact\nbe bequeathed.\n\nThese considerations may guide us in an analysis of the legacy which we\nhave received from our parent society--the civilization of Ancient\nGreece. First, has Ancient Greece transmitted to us anything comparable\nto the physical and psychological legacy of an individual human parent\nto her child? This is a difficult question for us to answer, just as it\nis difficult for members of the same family to appreciate the 'family\nlikeness' between them. A Moslem or Hindu or Chinaman could judge better\nthan we. But it is certainly possible that the comparative similarity of\nclimatic conditions and the comparative unity of racial stock has\ncreated a closer relationship between these two societies than between\neither one of them and any other. The poetry and philosophy and social\nlife and political institutions of Ancient Greece and the Modern West\nmay conceivably constitute a single species when contrasted with the\ninstitutions of other civilizations. A modern West European or American\nmay have a greater innate appreciation for Homer than for the Old\nTestament or for Sokrates than for Buddha or Confucius. The parallel\nwhich historians so often draw, or imply, between the conflict of\nAncient Greece with the Ancient East and that of the Modern West with\nthe Modern East may rest on a real kinship between the two Occidental\ncivilizations as contrasted with their respective Oriental neighbours.\nBut this is uncertain and on the whole unprofitable ground. When we come\nto the 'subconsciously chosen' type of legacy, the analogy with the\nrelationship between parent and child becomes more evident.\n\nLegacies of this type from Ancient Greek society are prominent in the\nMiddle Ages--the childhood of modern Western civilization which followed\nthe 'Dark Age' crisis of birth. One of the first needs of our young\nWestern society as it struggled to its feet was a symbol of its\nunity--something corresponding to the attainment of self-consciousness\nby the individual human being--and for this it borrowed the last\nconstructive idea of the Ancient Greek world. The mediaeval 'Holy Roman\nEmpire' had quite a different purpose and function, in the childhood of\nmodern Western civilization, from the purpose and function of the Roman\nEmpire in the old age of Ancient Greece. But the young civilization did\nnot think of inventing a new institution for its individual needs. In\nits subconscious pursuit of its own development it conceived itself to\nbe reviving one of the customs of its venerable parent. The political\nthinkers of Charlemagne's day never imagined that the idea of world\nunity could be embodied in any other form.\n\nAgain, a century or so later, certain portions of Western society,\nespecially the populations of North and Central Italy and the Low\nCountries, had outdistanced the rest in economic development and needed\ninstitutions of local self-government to give their economic vitality\nfree play. In this case, again, Western civilization reverted to an\nAncient Greek institution and revived the 'city-state'. A little later\nstill, the rapidly growing and differentiating body of Western\ncivilization was impelled towards territorial expansion, and sought it,\nlike Ancient Greece in a similar period, round the shores of the\nMediterranean. This mediaeval movement of expansion, which is commonly\ncalled the Crusades, but which made itself felt in Spain and Sicily and\nthe Aegean as well as in the 'Holy Land', is a remarkable parallel to\nthe propagation of Ancient Greek city-states round the same shores\nbetween about 750 and 600 B. C. In drifting back upon the Mediterranean,\nthe mediaeval West was searching for new realms to conquer, but it was\nreally captured by the romance of its ancestral home.\n\nHere, then, are three prominent features in mediaeval Western\nhistory--the Holy Roman Empire, the Flemish and Italian communes, and\nthe Crusades--which were legacies from Ancient Greek history in the\nsense of being subconscious reversions to the habits of the parent\nsociety. But have these mediaeval legacies from Ancient Greece been\nreally important constituents in our history viewed as a whole? Have\nthey not rather been false growths which led to little or nothing? The\nHoly Roman Empire was never more than a mirage. The sense of unity in\nthe modern Western world is derived not from this but from a really\noriginal institution, the early Papal Church, in which any legacy from\nAncient Greece would be hard to discern. The national states of modern\nEurope and America are derived not from mediaeval Ghent or Bruges or\nFlorence or Venice but from the new, though clumsy, feudal communities\nof mediaeval England and France. And the expansion of Western society\nhas not followed the direction indicated by the Crusades. The false\ntrail of the Mediterranean was practically abandoned after less than\nthree centuries' trial. The true domain of modern Western civilization\nhas been found in regions which Ancient Greece hardly explored: Northern\nGermany and Scandinavia and the British Isles, the North Sea and the\nBaltic, the Atlantic and the continent of America. Thus our mediaeval\nlegacies from Ancient Greece--the subconscious reversions of\nchildhood--are historical curiosities rather than vital links between\nthe two civilizations. Our really important legacy from Ancient Greece\nwas adopted with full consciousness and deliberation when we stood on\nthe threshold of our own maturity.\n\nThe legacy of this third type which we have received from Ancient Greece\nhas been given the general name of the Renaissance. It was a determined\nand successful attempt, on the part of our society, to learn everything\nthat the literary and artistic remains of our great predecessor could\nteach us. It lay within our choice to study these remains or to pass\nthem by, and the fact that we chose to study them has been one of the\ngreatest and the most fortunate decisions in the career of our\ncivilization. The several aspects of this acceptance of what Ancient\nGreece had to offer have been treated already in the other chapters in\nthis volume. Here it is merely necessary to point out that the\nRenaissance was a study and assimilation not only of Ancient Greek\nliterature and art, but of architecture, natural science, mathematics,\nphilosophy, political ideas, and all the other higher expressions of a\ngreat society. The absorption of this vast current of life largely\naccounts for the wonderful impetus which has revealed itself in Western\ncivilization during the last four centuries.\n\nHas the current now spent its force? Has the legacy adopted four\ncenturies ago been used up and exhausted? Under the inspiration of\nAncient Greece, has the modern West now created a literature, art,\narchitecture, science, mathematics, philosophy, and political thought\nwhich equal or surpass the Ancient patterns and turn them from an\ninspiration into an encumbrance? That seems to be the fundamental\nquestion behind the controversy about the study of Ancient Greek life in\nEngland to-day. Perhaps the answer may be found--if we may go back to\nour metaphor--in the uniqueness of the individual personality.\n\nIf one considers the relations of a parent and child, or indeed of any\ntwo human beings, it is evident that the one could never exhaust all\nthat could be learnt from the personality of the other. The one might\nacquire every physical, mental, and moral attainment that the other\ncould display, and yet the other's unique individuality would remain--an\ninexhaustible subject of study, throwing perpetual new light upon the\nlife of the observer himself and of his fellow human beings. This is\ntrue of any two human beings, but if the two happen to be people of\ncommanding character and genius it becomes a truism which it would be\nalmost ludicrous to question. Let us apply this to the study not of one\nindividual but of one society by another, and let us take the case in\npoint, in which the two societies happen to be great civilizations. The\nstudy of a great civilization has a unique value, not merely for members\nof another civilization which stands to it in the relation of child to\nparent, but for every seeker after knowledge who has a civilization of\nhis own. This ultimate and most precious legacy of Ancient Greece is at\nthe disposal of Moslems, Hindus, and Chinese, as well as Westerners. For\nreceiving it there are two qualifications: a good understanding and an\nopen mind.\n\n\nII\n\n_Ancient Greek Civilization as a Work of Art_\n\nCivilizations are the greatest and the rarest achievements of human\nsociety. Innumerable societies have been coming into being and perishing\nduring many hundreds of thousands of years, and hardly any of them have\ncreated civilizations. One can count the civilizations on one's fingers.\nWe have had perhaps three in Europe: the Minoan in the Aegean Islands\n(the dates 4000-1100 B. C. roughly cover its history); the Greek or\nGraeco-Roman round the coasts of the Mediterranean (its history extends\nbetween the eleventh century B. C. and the seventh century A. D.); and\nour modern Western civilization round the coasts of the Atlantic, which\nbegan to emerge from twilight in the eighth century A. D. and is still\nin existence. Then there are the ancient civilizations of Egypt and\nLower Mesopotamia, which were first dominated by Ancient Greece and then\namalgamated into the single Middle Eastern civilization of Islam; and\nthere are the civilizations of India and China. Even if we count as\ncivilizations the societies existing in Mexico and Peru before the\nSpanish Conquest, the total number of known independent civilizations,\ncompared with the total number of known human societies, is very small.\nAnd it is so because the achievement is astonishingly difficult. There\nare two constant factors in social life--the spirit of man and its\nenvironment. Social life is the relation between them, and life only\nrises to the height of civilization when the spirit of man is the\ndominant partner in the relationship--when instead of being moulded by\nthe environment (as it is in the tropical forests of Central Africa and\nBrazil), or simply holding its own against the environment in a kind of\nequilibrium (as it does on the steppes of Central Asia or Arabia, among\nthe nomads), it moulds the environment to its own purpose, or\n'expresses' itself by 'impressing' itself upon the world. The study of a\ncivilization is not different in kind from the study of a literature. In\nboth cases one is studying a creation of the spirit of man, or, in more\nfamiliar terms, a work of art.\n\nCivilization is a work of art--in the literal meaning of the phrase and\nnot merely by a metaphor. It is true that works of art are made by\nindividuals, civilization by a society. But what work of art is there in\nwhich the individual artist owes nothing to others? And a civilization,\nthe work of countless individuals and many generations, differs in this\nrespect from a poem or a statue not in kind but only in degree. It is a\nsocial work of art, expressed in social action, like a ritual or a\nplay. One cannot describe it better than by calling it a tragedy with a\nplot, and history is the plot of the tragedy of civilization.\n\nStudents of the drama, from Aristotle onwards, seem to agree that nearly\nall the great tragedies in literature are expositions of quite a few\nfundamental plots. And it is possible that the great tragedies of\nhistory--that is, the great civilizations that have been created by the\nspirit of man--may all reveal the same plot, if we analyse them rightly.\nEach civilization--for instance, the civilization of Mediaeval and\nModern Europe and again that of Ancient Greece--is probably a variant of\na single theme. And to study the plot of civilization in a great\nexposition of it--like the Hellenic exposition or our own Western\nexposition--is surely the right goal of a humane education.\n\nBut of course one asks: Why study Ancient Hellenic civilization rather\nthan ours? The study of any one civilization is so complex, it demands\nso many preliminary and subordinate studies--linguistic, institutional,\neconomic, psychological--that it is likely to absorb all one's energies.\nThe greatest historians have generally confined themselves to the study\nof a single civilization, and the great Greek historians--Herodotus,\nThucydides, and Polybius--concentrated on their own, and only studied\nothers in so far as their own came into contact with them. Clearly,\npeople who are going to be historians, not for life, but as an education\nfor life, must make their choice. They must practically confine\nthemselves to studying one civilization if they are to reap the fruits\nof study at all, and in this case it is natural to ask: Why study\nHellenism rather than our own history? There are two obvious arguments\nin favour of studying modern history. It seems more familiar and it\nseems more useful. And it would be a mistake to misrepresent these\narguments by stating them only in their cruder forms. 'Familiar' does\nnot mean 'easy', and to say that modern history seems more useful than\nancient does not mean that the study of it is a closer approximation to\na Pelman course. There is an exceedingly crude view of education among\nsome people just now--perhaps it is largely due to the war, and may\ndisappear like other ugly effects of the war--which inclines to\nconcentrate education on applied chemistry, say, or engineering, with a\nvague idea that people whose education has been devoted to these\nsubjects will be more capable of competing with foreigners in the dye\nindustry or of working in munition factories in the next emergency. In\nthe same way, conceivably, concentration on modern history might be\nsupposed to equip a student for securing concessions abroad for a firm,\nor for winning a parliamentary election. Of course, this attitude,\nthough it is rather widespread just now, is absurd. The fallacy lies in\nconfusing the general theoretical knowledge of a subject acquired\nthrough being educated in it with the technical knowledge and personal\nexperience which one must have to turn the same subject to practical\naccount in after life. There is no difference of opinion on this point\nbetween 'humanists' and 'scientists'. The issue is between people who do\nnot appreciate the value of the pursuit of knowledge as an end in\nitself, and those who do appreciate it and who therefore understand what\neducation means. True lovers of knowledge and true believers in\neducation will be found on the same side in this controversy, whether\nthe subject of their study happens to be the spirit of man or the laws\nof its environment. But apart from that crude utilitarianism, which is\nas unscientific as it is un-humane, a serious argument for studying\nmodern rather than ancient history can also be stated from the humane\nand the scientific point of view. It may be argued that the direct\nexperience we have of our own civilization makes it possible for us to\nhave a deeper, and therefore a more humane and scientific, understanding\nof it than we can ever have of Ancient Greece. And one might go on to\nargue, on grounds of humanism alone, that such a comprehension of the\ncharacter and origins of our civilization would have a more profound\nhumanizing influence upon its development than a less intimate study of\na different civilization could produce. This argument is bound to appeal\nto the generation which has experienced the war. The war is obviously\none of the great crises of our civilization. It is like a conflagration\nlighting up the dim past and throwing it into perspective. The war makes\nit impossible for us to take our own history for granted. We are bound\nto inquire into the causes of such an astonishing catastrophe, and as\nsoon as we do that we find ourselves inquiring into the evolution of\nWestern Civilization since it emerged from the Dark Age. The shock of\nthe Peloponnesian War gave just the same intellectual stimulus to\nThucydides, and made him preface his history of that war with a critical\nanalysis, brief but unsurpassed, of the origins of Hellenic\ncivilization--the famous introductory chapters of Book I. May not these\nchapters point the road for us and counsel us to concentrate upon the\nstudy of our own history?\n\nThis question deserves very serious consideration, not merely from the\nutilitarian, but from the scientific and humane point of view. But the\nanswer is not a foregone conclusion. There is a case for studying the\ncivilization of Ancient Greece which can be summed up in four points, as\nfollows:\n\n(i) In Greek history the plot of civilization has been worked out to its\nconclusion. We can sit as spectators through the whole play; we can say:\n'This or that is the crisis; from this point onwards the end is\ninevitable; or if this actor had acted otherwise in those circumstances\nthe issue would not nave been the same.' We can grasp the structure of\nthe tragedy and divide it into acts. But in our own history we are like\nplayers in the middle of the piece, and though we may be able to say\n'This is the third act or the fourth act', we cannot say 'This is the\nlast act or the last but one'. We cannot foretell the future; the work\nof art we are studying is incomplete, and therefore we cannot possibly\napprehend it as an artistic whole, however vivid may be our experience\nof isolated scenes and situations. The first point in favour of Greek\nhistory is its completeness and its true perspective from our point of\nview.\n\n(ii) The second is that the historical experience of the Greeks has been\nmore finely expressed than ours. Its expression is in all Greek art and\nliterature--for it is a great mistake to suppose that historical\nexperience is expressed in so-called historical records alone. The great\npoets of Greece are of as much assistance in understanding the mental\nhistory of Greece (which is after all the essential element in any\nhistory) as the philosophers and historians. And Greek historical\nexperience or mental history is better expressed in Greek literature\nthan ours is in the literature of modern Europe. Without attempting to\ncompare the two literatures as literatures it can be said with some\nconfidence that the surviving masterpieces of Greek literature give a\nbetter insight into the subjective side of Greek history--into the\nemotions and speculations which arose out of the vicissitudes of Greek\nsociety and were its most splendid creations--than any insight into the\nsubjective side of modern history which we can obtain by studying it\nthrough modern literature.\n\n(iii) The third point is expressed in the concluding phrase of\nAristotle's definition of tragedy (_Poetics_, vi. 2). 'Tragedy', he\nsays, 'is an imitation of an action that is serious, complete, and of a\ncertain magnitude ... through pity and fear effecting the proper\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {katharsis} or purgation, of these emotions.' (Butcher's\ntranslation.) This word \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {katharsis}--purgation, purification,\ncleansing, discharge--has been the subject of interminable controversy\namong scholars, but any one acquainted with Ancient Greek literature who\nhas lived through the war will understand what it means. Certainly the\nwriter found, in the worst moments of the war, that passages from the\nclassics--some line of Aeschylus or Lucretius or Virgil, or the sense of\nsome speech in Thucydides, or the impression of some mood of bitterness\nor serenity in a dialogue of Plato--would come into his mind and give\nhim relief. These men had travelled along the road on which our feet\nwere set; they had travelled it farther than we, travelled it to the\nend; and the wisdom of greater experience and the poignancy of greater\nsuffering than ours was expressed in the beauty of their words. In the\nwriter's personal experience that relief was obtained from acquaintance\nwith Greek civilization as expressed in Greek literature. It put one in\ncommunication with a different civilization from our own--with people\nwho had experienced all and more than we had experienced, and who were\nnow at peace beyond the world of time and change. \u039a\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c1\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {Katharsis},\nthen, is the emotional value which is peculiar to the study of a\ndifferent civilization, and which one cannot get, at any rate with the\nsame intensity, by the study of his own.\n\n(iv) This emotional value has its intellectual counterpart in the\ncomparative method of study, which one gets by studying, not his own\ncircumstances, but circumstances comparable to, without being identical\nwith, his own. This is a commonplace in the field of language. The study\nof Ancient Greek is generally admitted to have more educative value for\nan Englishman than the study of modern French or German, because Greek\nand English embody the fundamental principles of human language in\nentirely independent forms of expression, while French and English, in\naddition to the elements common to all language, share the special\nbackground of the Bible and the Classics, which have given them an\nextensive common stock of phraseology and imagery. This applies equally\nto the study of civilization. One learns more by studying Ancient Greek\nreligion and comparing it with Christianity than by studying\nChristianity in ignorance of other religious phenomena; and one learns\nmore about institutions by studying the Greek city-state and comparing\nit with the modern national state than by merely studying the evolution\nof the national state in modern Europe. If we take utility to mean\nintellectual and not practical utility--and as humanists and scientists\nwe do--we may claim without paradox that the study of Greek civilization\nis valuable just because it is not our own.\n\nThese, then, are four points in favour of Greek history: we possess the\nwhole tragedy, it is a magnificent expression of the plot, and it has a\npeculiar emotional value and a peculiar intellectual value which the\ndrama in which we ourselves are actors cannot have for us.\n\nAt this point it is necessary to give a sketch of the plot of Greek\nhistory--every one must make his own sketch; the writer offers his to\nprovoke the reader to make his own--and then to illustrate the second\npoint, the beauty of the expression, by quoting half a dozen passages\nfrom ancient authors. The other two points--the cathartic and the\ncomparative value of Greek history--are matters of personal experience.\nI have little doubt that the reader will experience them himself if he\ntakes up this study seriously and from a broad point of view.\n\n\nIII\n\n_The Plot of Ancient Greek Civilization_\n\nThe genesis of Ancient Greek civilization is certainly later than the\ntwelfth century B. C., when Minoan civilization, its predecessor, was\nstill in process of dissolution; and the termination of Ancient Greek\ncivilization must certainly be placed before the eighth century A. D.,\nwhen modern Western civilization, its successor, had already come into\nbeing. Between these extreme points we cannot exactly date its beginning\nand end, but we can see that it covers a period of seventeen or eighteen\ncenturies.\n\nIt is easier to divide the tragedy into acts. We can at once discern two\ndramatic crises--the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War and the\nfoundation of the Roman Empire. We can for convenience take precise\ndates--431 B. C. and 31 B. C.--and group the action into three acts or\nphases, one before, one between, and one after these critical moments.\n\nIt is best to give the analysis in tabular form:\n\n_Act I_ (11th cent.-431 B. C.).\n\n    1. Synoikismos (formation of the city-state, the cell of Greek\n       society), 11th cent.-750 B. C.\n\n    2. Colonization (propagation of the city-state round the\n       Mediterranean), 750-600 B. C.\n\n    3. Economic revolution (change from extensive to intensive growth),\n       600-500 B. C.\n\n    4. Confederation (repulse of Oriental universal empire and creation\n       of an inter-state federation, the Delian League), 500-431 B. C.\n\n\n_Act II_ (431 B. C.-31 B. C.).\n\n    1. The Greek wars (failure of inter-state federation), 431-355 B.\n       C.\n\n    2. The Oriental wars (the superman, conquest of the East, struggle\n       for the spoils, barbarian invasion), 355-272 B. C.\n\n    3. The first rally (change of scale and fresh experiments in\n       federation--Seleucid Asia, Roman Italy, Aetolian and Achaean\n       'United States'), 272-218 B. C.\n\n    4. The Roman wars (destruction of four great powers by one;\n       devastation of the Mediterranean world), 218-146 B. C.\n\n    5. The class wars (capitalism, bolshevism, Napoleonism), 146-31 B.\n       C.\n\n\n_Act III_ (31 B. C.-7th cent. A. D.).\n\n    1. The second rally (final experiment in federation--compromise\n       between city-state autonomy and capitalistic centralization), 31\n       B. C.-A. D. 180.\n\n    2. The first dissolution (external front broken by tribesmen,\n       internal by Christianity), A. D. 180-284.\n\n    3. The final rally (Constantine \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9\u03b6\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 {ton d\u00eamon\n       prosetairizetai}--tribesmen on to the land, bishops into the\n       bureaucracy), A. D. 284-378.\n\n    4. The final dissolution (break of tradition), A. D. 378-7th cent.\n\nThis analysis is and must be subjective. Every one has to make his own,\njust as every one has to apprehend for himself the form of a work of\nart. But however the historian may analyse the plot and group it into\nacts, it must be borne in mind that the action is continuous, and that\nthe first emergence of the Greek city-state in the Aegean and the last\ntraces of municipal self-government in the Roman Empire are phases in\nthe history of a single civilization. It may seem a paradox to call this\ncivilization a unity. But the study of Greek and Latin literature leaves\nno doubt in one's mind that the difference of language there is less\nsignificant than the unity of form, and that one is really dealing with\na single literature, the Hellenic, which in many of its branches was\nimitated and propagated in the Latin language, just as it was to a\nlesser extent in Hebrew, or later on in Syriac and Arabic. The unity is\neven more apparent when, instead of confining our attention to\nliterature, we regard the whole field of civilization. It is not really\npossible to draw a distinction between Greek history and Roman history.\nAt most one can say that at some point Greek history enters on a phase\nwhich it may be convenient to distinguish verbally by connecting it with\nthe name of Rome. To take the case of the Roman Empire--the reader may\npossibly have been surprised to find the Roman Empire treated as the\nthird act in the tragedy of Greece; yet when one studies the Empire one\nfinds that it was essentially a Greek institution. Institutionally it\nwas at bottom a federation of city-states, a solution of the political\nproblem with which Greek society had been wrestling since the fifth\ncentury B. C. And even the non-municipal element, the centralized\nbureaucratic organization which Augustus spread like a fine, almost\nimpalpable net to hold his federation of municipalities together, was\nlargely a fruit of Greek administrative experience. As papyrology\nreveals the administrative system of the Ptolemaic Dynasty--the Greek\nsuccessors of Alexander who preceded the Caesars in the government of\nEgypt--we are learning that even those institutions of the Empire which\nhave been regarded as most un-Greek may have been borrowed through a\nGreek intermediary. Imperial jurisprudence, again, interpreted Roman\nmunicipal law into the law of a civilization by reading into it the\nprinciples of Greek moral philosophy. And Greek, not Latin, was still\nthe language in which most of the greatest literature of the Imperial\nperiod was written. One need only mention works which are still widely\nread and which have influenced our own civilization--Plutarch's _Lives_,\nMarcus Aurelius' _Meditations_, and the New Testament. They are all\nwritten in Greek, and who will venture to assert that the age in which\nthey were written falls outside Greek history, or that the social\nexperience which produced them was not an act in the tragedy of Hellenic\ncivilization? Even statistically the Empire was more Greek than anything\nelse. Probably a considerable majority of its inhabitants spoke Greek as\na lingua franca, if not as their mother-tongue. Nearly all the great\nindustrial and commercial centres were in the Greek or Hellenized\nprovinces. Possibly, during the first two centuries of the Empire, more\nGreek was spoken than Latin by the proletariat of Rome itself. The Greek\ncore of the Roman Empire played the part of Western Europe in the modern\nworld. The Latinized provinces were thinly populated, backward, and only\nsuperficially initiated into the fraternity of civilization. Latinized\nSpain and Africa were the South America, Latinized Gaul and Britain the\nRussia of the Ancient Greek world. The pulse of the Empire was driven\nby a Greek heart, and it beat comparatively feebly in the non-Greek\nextremities.\n\n\nIV\n\n_The Literary Expression of the Plot_\n\nAnd now, after having suggested a reading of the plot, it is time to let\nthe actors speak for themselves. There is only space to quote half a\ndozen passages, but they have been chosen to illustrate the critical\nscenes and situations in the drama as it has been sketched out, and they\nmay persuade the reader that there is something to be said for the\npresent interpretation.\n\nWe shall not dwell on the period I have called the first act--that is,\nthe period before 431 B. C. But the reader is recommended, again, not to\nlay aside the Greek poets when he takes up the Greek historians. Homer\nwill reveal more of the opening scenes than Herodotus; and the\nexaltation of spirit produced by the repulse of the Persians, and\nexpressed institutionally in the foundation of the Delian League, can\nhardly be realized emotionally without the poetry of Aeschylus. But the\nphilosophers and scientists are indispensable too. Professor Burnet's\n_Early Greek Philosophy_, or his _Greek Philosophy from Thales to\nPlato_, throws light on history and not merely on the Greek theory of\nknowledge. And the reader should make acquaintance with the little work\non 'Atmospheres, Waters, and Localities' emanating from the Hippokratean\nschool of medicine. It is only thirty-eight pages in the Teubner text\n(Hippocratis _Opera_, vol. i), and it gives clearer expression than\nHerodotus to the fifth-century scientific point of view. Here is one\npassage which might have been written in Victorian England. The writer\nis describing a peculiar disease prevalent among the nomads of southern\nRussia. 'The natives', he remarks, 'believe that this disease is sent by\nGod, and they reverence and worship its victims, in fear of being\nstricken by it themselves. I too am quite ready to admit that these\nphenomena are caused by God, but I take the same view about all\nphenomena and hold that no single phenomenon is more or less divine in\norigin than any other. All are uniform and all may be divine, but each\nphenomenon obeys a law, and natural law knows no exceptions.'\n\nIt is hard to leave this first act of the tragedy. It is a triumph of\nyouth, and the phrase in which Herodotus sums up the early history of\nSparta expresses the prevailing spirit of early Hellenic civilization.\n\u0391\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03b5\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b5\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd\u03b7\u03b8\u03b7\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd {Ana te edramon kai euthen\u00eath\u00easan}: 'They\nshot up and throve.' But there is another phrase in Herodotus which\nannounces the second act--an ominous phrase which came so natural to him\nthat one may notice about a dozen instances of it in his history. \u0395\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\n\u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c4\u03c9 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03b9 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03c9\u03c2 {Edei gar t\u00f4 deini genesthai kak\u00f4s}: 'Evil\nhad to befall so-and-so, and therefore'--the story of a catastrophe\nfollows in each case. The thought behind the phrase is expressed in\nSolon's words to Croesus (Herodotus, Bk. I, ch. 32): 'Croesus, I know\nthat God is ever envious and disordering' (\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03c9\u03b4\u03b5\u03c2 {tarach\u00f4des}), 'and\nyou ask me about the destiny of man!'\n\nNote the epithet translated 'disordering'; we shall meet the word \u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03b7\n{tarach\u00ea} again. It is the bitter phrase of a man who lived on from the\ngreat age into the war, but not so bitter as the truth which the writer\ncould not bring himself wholly to express. 'No single phenomenon', as\ncontemporary Greek science realized, 'is more or less divine than any\nother', and the 'envious and disordering' power, which wrecked Greek\ncivilization, was not an external force, but the very spirit of man by\nwhich that civilization had been created. There is a puzzling line in\nHomer which is applied once or twice to features in a landscape--for\ninstance, to a river: 'The gods call it Xanthos, mankind Skamandros.' So\nwe might say of the downfall of Greece: the Greeks attributed it to the\nmalignity of God, but the divine oracles gave a different answer.\n\nWhy did the Confederacy of Delos break down and Greece lose her youth in\na ruinous war? Because of the evil in the hearts of men--the envy\naroused by the political and commercial greatness of Athens in the\ngoverning classes of Sparta and Corinth; and the covetousness aroused by\nsudden greatness in the Athenians, tempting their statesmen to degrade\nthe presidency of a free confederacy into a dominion of Athens over\nGreece, and tempting the Athenian proletariat, and the proletariat in\nthe confederate states, to misuse democracy for the exploitation of the\nrich by the poor. Envy and covetousness begat injustice, and injustice\ndisloyalty. The city-states, in their rivalry for dominion or their\nresentment against the domineering of one state over another, forgot\ntheir loyalty to the common weal of Greece and fought each other for\nempire or liberty. And the wealthy and well-born citizens forgot their\nloyalty to the city in their blind, rancorous feud against the\nproletariat that was stripping them of property and power, and betrayed\ntheir community to foreign enemies.\n\n'Strange how mortals blame the gods. They say that evil is our\nhandiwork, when in truth they bring their sufferings on themselves. By\ntheir own folly they force the hand of fate. See, now, how Aigisthos\nforced it in taking the wedded wife of Atreides and slaying her lord\nwhen he returned, yet he had sheer destruction before his eyes, for we\nourselves had forewarned him not to slay the king nor wed his wife, or\nvengeance would come by Atreides' son Orestes, whene'er he should grow\nto manhood and long for his home. So spake our messenger, but with all\nhis wisdom he did not soften the heart of Aigisthos, and now he has paid\nin full' (_Odyssey_, _a_ 32-43).\n\nThese lines from the first canto of the _Odyssey_ were imagined by a\ngeneration which could still afford to err, but as Greece approached her\nhour of destiny, her prophetic inspiration grew clearer. The poets of\nthe sixth century were haunted more insistently than the Homeridai by\nthe possibilities of disaster inherent in success of every kind--in\npersonal prosperity, in military victory, and in the social triumph of\ncivilization. They traced the mischief to an aberration of the human\nspirit under the shock of sudden, unexpected attainment, and they\nrealized that both the accumulated achievement of generations and the\ngreater promise of the future might be lost irretrievably by failure at\nthis critical moment. 'Surfeit (\u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 {koros}) breeds sin \u1f51\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 {hubris}\nwhen prosperity visits unbalanced minds.' In slightly different words,\nthe proverb recurs in the collections of verses attributed to Theognis\nand to Solon. Its maker refrained from adding what was in his and his\nhearers' thoughts, that \u1f51\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 {hubris}, once engendered, breeds \u03b1\u03b9\u03b7\n{ai\u00ea}--the complete and certain destruction into which the sinner walks\nwith unseeing eyes. But the whole moral mystery, to its remorseless end,\nwas uttered again and again in passionate words by Aeschylus, who\nconsciously discarded the primitive magical determinism in which\nHerodotus afterwards vainly sought relief.\n\n    \u03a6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f51\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2\n    \u03bc\u03b5\u03bd \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9\u03b1 \u03bd\u03b5\u03b1--\n    \u03b6\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b5\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\n    \u1f51\u03b2\u03c1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03c4' \u03b7 \u03c4\u00f3\u03b8', \u1f41\u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03bf \u03ba\u03c5\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03b7\n    \u03c6\u03b1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5,\n    \u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c4' \u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd, \u03b1\u03bc\u03b1\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd, \u03b1\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd,\n    \u03b1\u03bd\u03b9\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3\u03bf\u03c2, \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b9--\n    \u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b8\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u0391\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2,\n    \u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u03ba\u03b5\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd.\n\n    {Philei de tiktein hubris\n    men palaia nea--\n    zousan en kakois brot\u00f4n\n    hubris tot' \u00ea t\u00f3th', hote to kyrion mol\u00ea\n    phaos tokou,\n    daimona t' etan, amachon, apolemon,\n    anieron thrasos, melai--\n    nas melathroisin Atas,\n    eidomenas tokeusin.}\n\n    But Old Sin loves, when comes the hour again,\n      To bring forth New,\n    Which laugheth lusty amid the tears of men;\n    Yea, and Unruth, his comrade, wherewith none\n    May plead nor strive, which dareth on and on,\n      Knowing not fear nor any holy thing;\n    Two fires of darkness in a house, born true,\n      Like to their ancient spring.\n\n    (_Agamemnon_, vv. 763-71, Murray's transl.)\n\nThe poet of the crowning victory over Persia was filled with awe, as\nwell as exultation, at the possibilities for good or evil which his\ntriumphant generation held in their hands. Were they true metal or base?\nThe times would test them, but he had no doubt about the inexorable law.\n\n    \u039f\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b1\u03c1 \u03b5\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03be\u03b9\u03c2\n      \u03c0\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03b9\n    \u03bb\u03b1\u03ba\u03c4\u03b9\u03c3\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03b1\u03bd \u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03b7\u03c2\n      \u03b2\u03c9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b1\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1\u03bd.\n\n    {Ou gar estin epalxis\n      ploutou pros koron andri\n    laktisanti megan dik\u00eas\n      b\u00f4mon eis aphaneian.}\n\n    Never shall state nor gold\n      Shelter his heart from aching\n    Whoso the Altar of Justice old\n      Spurneth to night unwaking.\n\n    (_Agamemnon_, vv. 381-4, Murray's transl.)\n\nThe _Agamemnon_ was written when Athens stood at the height of her glory\nand her power, and before her sons, following the devices of their\nhearts, 'like a boy chasing a wing\u00e8d bird', had set a fatal\nstumbling-block in the way of their city, or smirched her with an\nintolerable stain. The generation of Marathon foreboded the catastrophe\nof the Peloponnesian War, yet the shock, when it came, was beyond their\npowers of imagination, and the effect of it on the mind of Greece was\nfirst expressed by the generation which was smitten by the war in early\nmanhood. This is how it was felt by Thucydides (iii. 82):\n\n'So the class-war at Korkyra grew more and more savage, and it made a\nparticular impression because it was the first outbreak of an upheaval\nthat spread in time through almost the whole of Greek society. In every\nstate there were conflicts of class, and the leaders of the respective\nparties now procured the intervention of the Athenians or the\nLakedaimonians on their side. In peace-time they would have had neither\nthe opportunity nor the inclination to call in the foreigner, but now\nthere was the war, and it was easy for any party of violence to get\ntheir opponents crushed and themselves into power by an alliance with\none of the belligerents. This recrudescence of class-war brought one\ncalamity after another upon the states of Greece--calamities that occur\nand will continue to occur as long as human nature remains what it is,\nhowever they may be modified or occasionally mitigated by changes of\ncircumstance. Under the favourable conditions of peace-time, communities\nand individuals do not have their hands forced by the logic of events,\nand can therefore act up to a higher standard. But war strips away all\nthe margins of ordinary life and breaks in character to circumstance by\nits brutal training. So the states were torn by the class-war, and the\nsensation made by each outbreak had a sinister effect on the next--in\nfact, there was something like a competition in perfecting the fine art\nof conspiracies and atrocities....\n\n(iii. 83) 'Thus the class-war plunged Greek society into every kind of\nmoral evil, and honesty, which is the chief constituent of idealism, was\nlaughed out of existence in the prevailing atmosphere of hostility and\nsuspicion. No argument was cogent enough and no pledge solemn enough to\nreconcile opponents. The only argument that appealed to the party\nmomentarily in power was the unlikelihood of their remaining there long\nand the consequent advisability of taking no risks with their enemies.\nAnd the stupider the combatants, the greater their chances of survival,\njust because they were terrified at their deficiencies, expected to be\noutwitted and outman\u0153uvred, and therefore plunged recklessly into\naction, while their superiors in intellect, who trusted to their wits to\nprotect them and disdained practical precautions, were often caught\ndefenceless and brought to destruction.'\n\nThere is the effect of the great Greek war upon the first generation.\nThucydides, of course, had a sensitive and emotional temperament. He is\nalways controlling himself and reining himself in. But one is struck by\nan outburst of the same feeling in a younger man, Xenophon, who was\nordinarily in harmony with his age and was probably rather unimaginative\nand self-complacent by nature. The war had given Xenophon his\nopportunity as a soldier and a writer. He was not inclined to quarrel\nwith the 'envious and disordering' powers that had ruined Greek\ncivilization. But in the last paragraph of the History of his Own Times\nhe is carried away, for he has just been describing the battle of\nMantinea (362 B. C.), in which he had lost his son.\n\n'The result of the battle', he writes, 'disappointed every one's\nexpectations. Almost the whole of Greece had mobilized on one side or\nthe other, and it was taken for granted that if it came to an action,\nthe victors would be able to do what they liked and the vanquished would\nbe at their mercy. But Providence so disposed it that both sides ...\nclaimed the victory and yet neither had gained a foot of territory, a\nsingle city or a particle of power beyond what they had possessed before\nthe battle. On the contrary, there was more unsettlement and disorder\n(\u03c4\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03c7\u03b7 {tarach\u00ea}) in Greece after the battle than before it. But I do\nnot propose to carry my narrative further and will leave the sequel to\nany other historian who cares to record it.' (_Hellenica_, vii. 5 fin.)\n\nSpace forbids quotation from Plato, but the reader is recommended, while\nstudying his metaphysics for his philosophy, to note his moods and\nemotions for the light they throw upon the history of his lifetime.\nPlato's long life--427 to 347 B. C.--practically coincided with the\nfirst phase of the second act of the tragedy--the series of wars that\nbegan in 431 B. C., and that had reduced the Greek city-states to\ncomplete disunion and exhaustion by 355. Plato belonged to the cultured\ngoverning class which was hit hardest by these first disasters. At the\nage of twenty-nine, after witnessing the downfall of Athens, he had to\nwitness the judicial murder of Sokrates--the greatest man of the older\ngeneration, who had been appreciated and loved by Plato and his\nfriends. Plato's own most promising pupil, whom he had marked out for\nhis successor, was killed in action in a particularly aimless\nrecrudescence of the war. Plato's political disillusionment and\nperversity are easy to understand. But it is curious and interesting to\nwatch the clash between his political bitterness and his intellectual\nserenity. In the intellectual and artistic sphere--as a writer,\nmusician, mathematician, metaphysician--he stood consciously at the\nzenith of Greek history; but whenever he turned to politics he seems to\nhave felt that the spring had gone out of the year. He instinctively\nantedated the setting of his dialogues. The characters nearly all belong\nto the generation of Sokrates, which had grown to manhood before the war\nand whose memories conjured up the glory that the war had extinguished.\nNote, also, his 'other-worldliness', for it is a feature that comes into\nGreek civilization with him and gradually permeates it. He turns from\nscience to theology, from the world of time and change to the world of\narchetypes or ideas. He turns from the social religion of the city-state\nto a personal religion for which he takes symbols from primitive\nmythology. He turns from politics to utopias. But Plato only lived to\nsee the first phase of the catastrophe. As we watch the remainder of\nthis second act--those four terrible centuries that followed the year\n431 B. C.--there come tidings of calamity after calamity, like the\nmessages of disaster in the Book of Job, and as the world crumbles,\npeople tend more and more to lay up their treasure elsewhere. In the\n_Laws_, Plato places his utopia no farther away than Crete. Two\ncenturies later the followers of Aristonikos the Bolshevik, outlawed by\nthe cities of Greece and Asia, proclaim themselves citizens of the City\nof the Sun. Two centuries later still, the followers of Jesus of\nNazareth, despairing of this world, pray for its destruction by fire to\nmake way for the Kingdom of Heaven.\n\nPlato's state of mind gives the atmosphere of the first phase after the\ncatastrophe. For the second phase--the conquest of the East and the\nstruggle for the spoils--the reader may be referred to Mr. Edwyn Bevan's\n_Lectures on the Stoics and Sceptics_ and to Professor Gilbert Murray's\nConway Memorial lecture on _The Stoic Philosophy_. They will show him a\nsystem of philosophy which is no longer a pure product of speculation\nbut is primarily a moral shelter erected hastily to meet the storms of\nlife. The third phase--the rally of civilization in the middle of the\nthird century B. C.--is mirrored in Plutarch's lives of the Spartan\nkings Agis and Kleomenes. Any one who reads them will feel the gallantry\nof this rally and the pathos of its failure. And then comes the fourth\nphase--the Roman wars against the other great powers of the\nMediterranean world. The Hannibalic war in Italy was, very probably, the\nmost terrible war that there has ever been, not excepting the recent war\nin Europe. The horror of that war haunted later generations, and its\nmere memory made oblivion seem a desirable release from an intolerable\nworld.\n\n    Nil igitur mors est ad nos neque pertinet hilum,\n    quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.\n    et velut anteacto nil tempore sensimus aegri,\n    ad confligendum venientibus undique Poenis,\n    omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu\n    horrida contremuere sub altis aetheris oris,\n    in dubioque fuere utrorum ad regna cadendum\n    omnibus humanis esset terraque marique,\n    sic, ubi non erimus, cum corporis atque animai\n    discidium fuerit quibus e sumus uniter apti,\n    scilicet haud nobis quicquam, qui non erimus tum,\n    accidere omnino poterit sensumque movere,\n    non si terra mari miscebitur et mare caelo.\n\nThat is a passage of Lucretius (iii. 830-842) which follows upon an\nelaborate argument to prove that death destroys personality and that the\nsoul is not immortal. Here is an attempt at a translation:\n\n'So death is nothing to us and matters nothing to us, since we have\nproved that the soul is not immortal. And as in time past we felt no\nill, when the Phoenicians were pouring in to battle on every front, when\nthe world rocked with the shock and tumult of war and shivered from\ncentre to firmament, when all mankind on sea and land must fall under\nthe victor's empire and victory was in doubt--so, when we have ceased to\nbe, when body and soul, whose union is our being, have been parted, then\nnothing can touch us--we shall not be--and nothing can make us feel, no,\nnot if earth is confounded with sea and sea with heaven.'\n\nLucretius wrote that about a hundred and fifty years after Hannibal\nevacuated Italy, but the horror is still vivid in his mind, and his\npoetry arouses it in our minds as we listen. The writer will never\nforget how those lines kept running in his head during the spring of\n1918.\n\nBut the victors suffered with the vanquished in the common ruin of\ncivilization. The whole Mediterranean world, and the devastated area in\nItaly most of all, was shaken by the economic and social revolutions\nwhich the Roman wars brought in their train. The proletariat was\noppressed to such a degree that the unity of society was permanently\ndestroyed and Greek civilization, after being threatened with a violent\nextinction by Bolshevik outbreaks--the slave wars in Sicily, the\ninsurrection of Aristonikos and the massacres of Mithradates in\nAnatolia, the outbreaks of Spartakos and Catilina in Italy--was\neventually supplanted by a rival civilization of the proletariat--the\nChristian Church. The revolutionary last phase in the second act--the\nfinal phase before the foundation of the Empire--has left its expression\nin the cry of the Son of Man: 'The foxes have holes and the birds of the\nair have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.' It\nwas one of those anonymous phrases that are in all men's mouths because\nthey express what is in all men's hearts. Tiberius Gracchus used it in\nhis public speeches at Rome; two centuries later it reappears in the\ndiscourses of Jesus of Nazareth.\n\n    Ergo inter sese paribus concurrere telis\n    Romanas acies iterum videre Philippi,\n    nec fuit indignum superis bis sanguine nostro\n    Emathiam et latos Haemi pinguescere campos....\n    Di patrii, Indigetes, et Romule, Vestaque mater\n    quae Tuscum Tiberim et Romana Palatia servas,\n    hunc saltem everso iuvenem succurrere saeclo\n    ne prohibete. satis iam pridem sanguine nostro\n    Laomedonteae luimus periuria Troiae....\n    vicinae ruptis inter se legibus urbes\n    arma ferunt; saevit toto Mars impius orbe;\n    ut cum carceribus sese effudere quadrigae,\n    addunt in spatio, et frustra retinacula tendens\n    fertur equis auriga neque audit currus habenas.\n\n    (_Georgics_, i. 489 seqq.)\n\n'Therefore Philippi saw Roman armies turn their swords against each\nother a second time in battle, and the gods felt no pity that Emathia\nand the broad plains of Haemus should twice be fattened with our\nblood....\n\n'Gods of our fathers, gods of our country, god of our city, goddess of\nour hearths who watchest over Tuscan Tiber and Roman Palatine, forbid\nnot this last saviour to succour our fallen generation. Our blood has\nflowed too long. We have paid in full for the sins of our\nforefathers--the broken faith of ancient Troy....\n\n'The bonds are broken between neighbour cities and they meet in arms.\nUngodly war rages the world over. The chariots launched on the race\ngather speed as they go; vainly dragging on the reins the driver is\nswept away by his steeds and the team heeds not the bridle.'\n\nIt is a prayer for the lifting of the curse, and this time the 'envious\nand disordering' powers gave ear. The charioteer regained control, and\nwe are carried on to the third act of the tragedy, in which no small\npart of its beauty and a very great part of its significance is to be\nfound. The imperial peace could not save the body of Greek\ncivilization--the four centuries of war had inflicted mortal wounds; but\npossibly it saved its soul. Although Augustus had not the abilities of\nCaesar, he felt and pitied the sorrows of the world, and he succeeded in\nexpressing the pity and repentance, the ruthfulness for and piety\ntowards the past, which were astir in the spirits of his generation. But\nwhat phrase is adequate to characterize the Empire? The words 'Decline\nand Fall' suggest themselves, but how should they be applied? Gibbon\ntook the second century of the Empire, the age of the Antonines, as the\nGolden Age of the Ancient World, and traced the decline and fall of the\nEmpire from the death of Marcus Aurelius. On the other hand, if the\npresent reading of the plot is right, the fatal catastrophe occurred six\ncenturies earlier, in the year 431 B. C., and the Empire itself was the\ndecline and fall of Greek civilization. But was it only that? One is apt\nto think so when one reads the diary of Marcus Aurelius, and pictures\nhim in his quarters at Carnuntum, fighting finely but hopelessly on two\nfronts--against the barbarians on the Danube and the sadness in his own\nsoul.\n\n'Human life! Its duration is momentary, its substance in perpetual flux,\nits senses dim, its physical organism perishable, its consciousness a\nvortex, its destiny dark, its repute uncertain--in fact, the material\nelement is a rolling stream, the spiritual element dreams and vapour,\nlife a war and a sojourning in a far country, fame oblivion. What can\nsee us through? One thing and one only--philosophy, and that means\nkeeping the spirit within us unspoiled and undishonoured, not giving way\nto pleasure or pain, never acting unthinkingly or deceitfully or\ninsincerely, and never being dependent on the moral support of others.\nIt also means taking what comes contentedly as all part of the process\nto which we owe our own being; and, above all, it means facing death\ncalmly--taking it simply as a dissolution of the atoms of which every\nliving organism is composed. Their perpetual transformation does not\nhurt the atoms, so why should one mind the whole organism being\ntransformed and dissolved? It is a law of nature, and natural law can\nnever be wrong.' (\u039c\u00e1\u03c1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c2 \u0391\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b5\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u00f3\u03bd {M\u00e1rkos Ant\u00f4ninos eis\neaut\u00f3n}, ii fin.)\n\nBut after quoting Marcus Aurelius, the first citizen of the Empire, it\nis necessary to add a quotation from Paul of Tarsos, a citizen who has\nas good a claim as any other to be heard:\n\n'\"How are the dead raised up? With what body do they come?\" Thou fool,\nthat which thou sowest is not quickened, except it die.... It is sown in\ncorruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is sown in dishonour, it is\nraised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power.' ...\n\nIt startles us to be reminded that these two actors appeared on the\nstage in the same act of the drama, and that Paul actually played his\npart a century before Marcus played his. Paul's voice suggests not only\na younger generation but quite a different play. His thought in the\nlines just quoted is inspired by a predecessor whom Marcus regarded as\none of the innumerable prophets of the proletariat. 'Except a corn of\nwheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die, it\nbringeth forth much fruit.' The saying was included in the miscellaneous\ntraditions about Jesus of Nazareth which were passing from mouth to\nmouth among the illiterate masses, but which had not begun to excite the\ncuriosity of the educated classes in Marcus's day. What would the\nscholar have made of it if a collection of these traditions had fallen\nunder his eye, scrawled on bad paper in barbarous Greek? Little enough,\nfor he would have missed the whole background of his own sentiment and\nthought, which was nothing less than the background of Greek\ncivilization. Great literary memories crowd the brief passage of his\ndiary quoted above--Epiktetos and Lucretius and the Stoa, Plato and\nSokrates, Demokritos and the Hippokratean school of medicine from which\nwe took our first quotation, and simpler minds and more primitive\nartists in the dim generations behind. We are carried right back through\nthe tragedy at which we have been looking on. The two men are worlds\napart, in spite of the fact that their propositions, when we strip them\nnaked, are much the same. 'The organism is transformed and\ndissolved.'--'That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die.'\nThey are both representing death as a phase in the process of nature,\nbut it is not till we grasp the similarity of the thought that we fully\nrealize the difference in the outlook and the emotion.\n\nUnder the smooth surface of the Empire there was a great gulf fixed\nbetween the 'bourgeois' society of the city-states and the descendants\nof the slaves imported during the Roman Wars; but the Empire, by\ngradually alleviating the material condition of the proletariat,\ninsensibly affected their point of view. The development of their\nreligion--the one inalienable possession carried by the slaves from\ntheir Oriental homes--is an index of the psychological change. In the\nlast phase of the Second Act, the 'Red Guards' of Sicily and Anatolia\nhad been led by prophets and preachers of their Oriental gods. Their\nreligion had lent itself to their revolutionary state of mind. But under\nthe Empire, as descendants of the plantation-slaves succeeded in\npurchasing their freedom and forming a new class of shopkeepers and\nclerks, their religion correspondingly reflected their rise in the\nworld. They remained indifferent, if not hostile, to the Imperial\nHellenic tradition, but they began to aspire to a kingdom of their own\nin this world as well as in the next. The force which had broken out\ndesperately in the crazy wonder-working of Eunous of Enna and had then\ninspired the 'other-worldly' exaltation of Paul of Tarsos, was soon\nconducted into the walls of chapels, and the local associations of\nChristian chapel-goers were steadily linked up into a federation so\npowerfully organized that the Imperial federation of city-states had\neventually to choose between going into partnership with it or being\nsupplanted. Thus the empire of which Marcus and Paul were citizens was\nmore than the third act in the tragedy of Ancient Greece. While it\nretarded the inevitable dissolution of one civilization it conceived its\nsuccessor, and when, after Marcus's death, imperial statesmanship\nfailed, and the ancient organism long preserved by its skill at last\nbroke down, the shock did not extinguish new and old together, but\nbrought the new life to birth. By the seventh century after Christ, when\nAncient Greek civilization may be said finally to have dissolved, our\nown civilization was ready to 'shoot up and thrive' and repeat the\ntragedy of mankind.\n\nThe writer can best express his personal feeling about the Empire in a\nparable. It was like the sea round whose shores its network of\ncity-states was strung. The Mediterranean seems at first sight a poor\nsubstitute for the rivers that have given their waters to make it. Those\nwere living waters, whether they ran muddy or clear; the sea seems just\nsalt and still and dead. But as soon as we study the sea, we find\nmovement and life there also. There are silent currents circulating\nperpetually from one part to another, and the surface-water that seems\nto be lost by evaporation is not really lost, but will descend in\ndistant places and seasons, with its bitterness all distilled away, as\nlife-giving rain. And as these surface-waters are drawn off into the\nclouds, their place is taken by lower layers continually rising from the\ndepths. The sea itself is in constant and creative motion, but the\ninfluence of this great body of water extends far beyond its shores. One\nfinds it softening the extremes of temperature, quickening the\nvegetation, and prospering the life of animals and men, in the distant\nheart of continents and among peoples that have never heard its name.\n\nARNOLD TOYNBEE.\n\n\n\n\nPOLITICAL THOUGHT\n\n\nIn a survey of the legacy of Ancient Greece to our modern civilization\nand its problems, it might well seem at first sight as though the\npolitical contribution of Greece could be ignored. Greek art, Greek\nliterature, Greek philosophy are among the world's abiding possessions,\nfor the human passions and questionings which gave them birth and the\nhuman needs to which they minister will last as long as human life\nitself. But Greek political thinking is so much bound up with the\npeculiar and evanescent external conditions of fifth and fourth century\nGreece, centres indeed so exclusively round the special problems of its\nintellectual metropolis, Athens, that its interest might appear to have\npassed away with the r\u00e9gime to which it owes its existence. The\n_Agamemnon_ and the _Antigone_, with their teachings of destiny and\nduty, the Hermes of Olympia and the Parthenon frieze, with their\never-irresistible charm of youthfulness, the _Phaedo_ with its\ndiscussion of immortality, the _Metaphysics_ of Aristotle with their\nstill subtler and more abstruse speculations, source of so much of our\nChristian doctrine and apologetic--all these require little defence\nagainst the Philistine of to-day, if only he can be induced to gaze at\nhis intended victim before he delivers his blow. But Thucydides with his\nlong and detailed account of an inter-tribal or inter-municipal war,\ndecked out with sham speeches which were never delivered: Plato with his\nimaginary Utopia, half a small Greek provincial town, half an impossible\nand unendurably regimented socialist model community, based on a\nfine-drawn and fallacious comparison between the qualities of the human\nsoul and the class-divisions which happened to prevail in the Greek\nsociety of the time: Aristotle with his laborious investigations into\nthe municipal pathology of his day and his detailed prescriptions for\nthe betterment of his fellow-provincials and their institutions--what\nhave we to do with all this in an age of world problems and conflicts\nand of not merely continent-wide but international ideas and projects of\norganization? The first duty of any one who seeks to interest the modern\nreader in Greek political discussion is to be perfectly frank and lucid\nabout its limitations. He need have no cause to be afraid that, when\nthese have been written off from his prospectus, there will be too\nlittle of value remaining.\n\nThese limitations can be summarized under two main heads. They arise,\nfirstly, from a _difference of scale_, and secondly, from a _difference\nof outlook_, between ancient and modern political thought.\n\nThe difference of scale leaps to the eye at once, although its\nconsequences are not all of them so obvious. Ancient Greece was, for\npolitical purposes, a congeries of sovereign states, generally centring\nround the urban metropolis of a rural district smaller than that of an\naverage English county. The material upon which Greek political thought\nworked was, therefore, from our modern point of view not only\nsmall-scale but almost Lilliputian. This can best be appreciated when we\nconsider how many gradations of scale are interposed in the modern world\nbetween the government of a town or district of the size of\nfifth-century Athens and the government of our own sovereign state, the\nBritish Commonwealth. Athens was far smaller than Leeds, Johannesburg,\nor Chicago: yet to be Mayor of any of these is not to fill a position of\ncommanding responsibility, as political responsibility is understood in\nthe large-scale world of to-day. The American State, the South African\nprovince and Dominion and (for certain purposes) the English County\nstand between the giant municipality and the sovereign parliament. To a\nBritish Premier passing from a coal strike which reacts upon the trade\nof the entire world to an Imperial Conference engaged in tracing out an\nagreed line of policy on the Pacific Question, the problems of a\nPericles, or even of an Alexander, would seem but child's play.\n\nLet us see what results from this difference of scale. In the first\nplace, Greek political thought although (as we shall see) it aimed at\n_universality_, at arriving at certain definite laws or conclusions\nabout politics, never succeeded in divesting itself of a certain element\nof local or national individuality. When Plato and Thucydides think and\nwrite of 'the State' they are also thinking of the City--the same word,\n_polis_, serves indeed for the two--and not merely of the City, i. e.,\nof any municipality, but of a particular city. There are elements in\nGreek political thought which, just because they owe their inspiration\nto Athens, can never be universalized. A treatise on education in which\ngeneral psychological conclusions were intermingled with conclusions\nbased on experience at some English school with a very unique tradition,\nwould require to be carefully examined and applied with caution to the\nproblems of adolescent life in Japan or Nigeria. Similarly, in so far as\nGreek political thought is Athenian or (to use a much disputed term in\nwhat I hold to be its proper sense) _national_, it is not truly\npolitical.\n\nThe distinction that I am trying to draw is a difficult one and cannot\nbe understood without a short digression about the nature of the study\nof politics. Politics is the study or activity of government, of the\nmanagement of the public or common affairs of men. We need\n'politicians', men who will devote themselves to meeting the demand for\nthe management of our common affairs--we need them not because we are\nEnglishmen, Irishmen, or Americans, but because we are human beings\nliving together in society, and because our co-operative relations and\nactivities require to be guided and controlled. Whether the 'politician'\nis a tyrant or a Minister of the people is not here to the point; the\npoint is that he is the manager of what the Romans called _res publica_,\nthe Latin for the good old English word 'Commonwealth'. Politics is\ntherefore primarily concerned with the practical problems arising out of\nthe fact that a number of different human beings are living together,\nand the more different they are and the smaller their greatest common\nmeasure, the more truly political do such problems become. The first\nbusiness, of the politician or governor is, as Aristotle said, to see\nthat men shall live (the twin problems of supply and defence), his\nsecond to see that they shall live well (in the first instance the\nproblems of health and physical development and well-being). In the last\nanalysis _pure politics_, as our great grandchildren may discover if\never the World-State becomes a reality, is mainly concerned with\n_administration_, administration of the affairs common to all in the\ninterests of all.\n\nNow ancient Greek politics were entangled, and modern politics also are\nstill too largely entangled, with the discussion of matters which are\nnot _common_ at all, and do not constitute the material of politics in\nthe true sense of the word--with questions arising, not out of the\ncommon need for a common law, but out of the inner ultimate and\nineradicable differences between the various nations and other groupings\nof mankind. When the League of Nations or the Dublin City Council is\ndiscussing an epidemic of small-pox or the improvement of some dock or\nwharf, or schools for mothers, or the problem of juvenile employment it\nis dealing with common interests which affect human beings as human\nbeings: it is on the plane of politics proper. But when the Dublin City\nCouncil, following in the wake of the nineteenth century democratic\nmovement throughout Europe, puts forward some proposal in order to give\nsatisfaction to the sentiment that Ireland being the home of a nation\nought to be a sovereign state, and when the League of Nations is asked\nto deal with the political situation created by the clash of contending\nnationalisms in the British Isles or elsewhere, both bodies, as\ngoverning bodies, are out of their depth: for they are faced with an\nimpossible task. Established to deal with politics proper, with the\ncommon affairs of men as men, they are bound to flounder helplessly when\nthey are cajoled into the thorny intimate and (let it be added) far more\nfascinating region of national and individual personality--to a region\nwhere, the deeper you penetrate, the less common, uniform, standardized\nor standardizable are the interests involved, and the less susceptible\nof being 'settled', or even understood, by the rough and ready\npolitician accustomed to deal with matters in the bulk and to measure up\nthe results on a quantitative reckoning in the cold and cosmopolitan\nlanguage of statistics.\n\nIn reading the Greek political writers then, we must be careful to\ndistinguish the universal from the local and ephemeral element. The\nlatter is indeed of great interest and value; but we shall tend to miss\nthe really precious and permanent elements in their thought if we do not\ntake pains to disentangle Thucydides the disillusioned Athenian patriot\nfrom Thucydides the scientific historian and psychologist, and Plato the\naristocrat born out of due season from Plato the unrivalled student of\nhuman nature and of the permanent needs of human society.\n\nThe failure to recognize this distinction has led to much\nmisunderstanding and shallow thinking in attempts to apply Greek ideas\nand maxims too literally to modern life. It is only too common to hear\nEnglishmen, whose knowledge of politics and history, outside the\nnewspapers, is confined to stray reminiscences from a not very ardent\npursuit of the classics in their school and college days, basing\nconfident predictions of the failure of modern democracy on some _obiter\ndictum_ of Thucydides or Plato and assessing the fate of the British\nCommonwealth in terms borrowed from some judgement of Sallust or Tacitus\non its wholly different Roman prototype. It is flippancy or pedantry\nlike this which gives rise to the onslaughts of a Cobden or Herbert\nSpencer or an H. G. Wells and to the practical man's suspicion of a\nclassical education. One might as well go to last year's market reports\nfor guidance in a business deal of to-day as have recourse to Plato, or,\nfor that matter, to Macchiavelli, in an existing political emergency. If\na classical education, designed as it is in England to promote\n'character' rather than 'intellect' (a vicious distinction which leaves\nno room for such a quality as intellectual integrity) often leaves\nbehind it but a meagre residuum of knowledge and ideas, it should at\nleast cause the public school man of yesterday and the London clubman of\nto-day to realize the limitations of his field of study and to abstain\nfrom confident political generalization. The Labour M.P. who once\nremarked to the writer, _\u00e0 propos_ of an Indian debate, that he had been\nin the House just long enough to know that all he knew about India was\nthat he knew nothing about it, had been brought up, if not in a better\nat least in a cannier school. There is no sounder training for the\nstudent of politics and history, or indeed of any serious subject, than\nto know everything about something, whether it be the chronological\norder of Plato's dialogues or the problem of humidity in weaving-sheds,\nor about placing a field or keeping a wicket. That is why the Duke of\nWellington who, if he lacked the intellectuality of a Foch, at least\nknew both his England and his own job of military science, selected the\nplaying fields rather than the classical classrooms of Eton as the home\nand training-ground of that concentrated and disinterested endeavour of\nmind and spirit which had carried his army through patient years of\neffort to victory. It is all to the good that our classical devotees,\nfaced with criticism and competition from many quarters, should be\nacquiring both a greater humility and a greater seriousness.\n\nOur first caution then, is that Greek political thought is both national\nand universal, and that we must learn to distinguish what pertains to\nnationality from what pertains to government.\n\nA second result which flows from the small-scale character of Greek\npolitics is that we nowhere find an adequate treatment of the problem\nof _foreign relations_. Foreign policy is one of the weak spots of\nmodern democracy; it is, perhaps, the element in our political technique\nwhich is most in need of thoroughgoing revision. We have yet to induce\nthe modern citizen to pay continuous attention to issues which, although\nthey are seemingly remote from his purview, may at any moment shake the\nwhole fabric of his everyday existence; and, when we have done this, we\nhave to persuade him to approach these world-problems not in the spirit\nof a competitive aggrandizement but with a view to discovering what is\nthe best line of policy in the interests of the world as a whole. So\nlong as the peoples remain self-absorbed, the governments will continue\nto conduct their mutual relations on a basis of individual\nself-interest, and the meetings of the Assembly of the League of Nations\nwill remain what they are at present, not gatherings of statesmen solely\nbent, each from his own angle and upbringing, on the welfare of\nhumanity, but barterings of politicians who (with rare exceptions) have\ncome to the fair to do the best business they can for their own clients.\nNow Thucydides and Plato give us no help for the League of Nations. Such\na phrase as 'the interests of humanity as a whole' would have been\npolitically meaningless to them. They did not think of humanity as a\nwhole; they thought of it as divided sharply into two sections, Greeks\nand Barbarians, and of the Greek world as a small oasis of intelligence\nand culture ringed round by a wide and indefinite expanse of barbarism.\nWe also, it is true, speak of 'advanced' and 'backward' peoples: but the\nlatter are not, as they were to the Greeks, a formidable mass, tribe\nupon tribe, of military power extending up to and beyond the known or\nlegendary confines of the world; they are child-races under our watchful\ncare and control. We have explored and surveyed the whole earth, and\nwhere we find weakness or inferiority, we establish a trusteeship. To\nthe Greeks, ever on their guard against barbarian inroads from north,\nsouth, east and west, from Scythians and Libyans, Persians and\nCarthaginians, the mandate clause of the Covenant would have seemed both\ntheoretically undesirable and practically impossible. No Greek writer\never dreamed of a system of international co-operation between the\ngovernments of the world as men then knew it. All of them thought in\nterms of competition and ever-recurrent warfare or, at best, of a\nprecarious balance of power. Even Plato's Utopia had its soldier class;\nand they were real soldiers, not merely police. In this respect, at any\nrate, vanquished Germany, with practically the whole of her population\nrelieved from military duty and available for productive tasks, has the\nadvantage over the most ideal construction of ancient Greece.\n\nThere is a further point to be noted under this head. If Greek thought\ngives us no guidance in foreign policy, it is no more helpful, except\nvery indirectly, in another difficult region, that of _industrial\npolicy_. The problem of industrial policy, or what is sometimes roughly\ndescribed as the Labour problem, may perhaps be thus stated: how to\nsecure or maintain for civilized mankind (or for our own particular\nsection of it) the goods and services it needs, whilst at the same time\nproviding justice and freedom for those who produce them. To put it more\nshortly, how to secure that a good life for the consumer shall be\ncompatible with a good life for the producer. It is a problem which goes\nto the root of democracy: for the world has never yet known a time when\nthe increase of wealth and the consequent growth of refinement and\ncivilization in the upper section of the community did not lead to\ndegradation and injustice in the lower. Here too the Greeks can give us\nno help. They did not even face the problem but fail to solve it, like\nthe Romans. Their material civilization was so simple that the problem\nhardly arose for them at all--except in certain cases, such as that of\nthe mine-slaves. But the fact that they acquiesced, without a twinge of\nconscience or a trace of repining, in the institution of slavery\nindicates how they would probably have faced it had it arisen. Confront\nPlato with the complexity of modern industry, prove to him, as any\nmodern lecturer could, that, for Northern man at any rate, life can only\nbe maintained without degradation on a basis of widespread industrialism\nand with our familiar equipment of railways, steamships, telephones, _et\nhoc genus omne_, and it is safe to predict that he would fail to give\nthe reply which the modern reformer would expect from him. Instead of\nembracing one of the many current varieties of socialism which\nmasquerade as his bastard progeny, he would either accept his\ninterlocutor's premisses and tell him to build up his precious northern\ncivilization on a basis of slavery; or he would reject them and advise\nhim, with Samuel Butler, to make a bonfire of the machines. The latter\nis, indeed, the more probable alternative; for it is that to which the\nmore thoughtful and prophetic (perhaps one can add also, the more\nHellenic) of our modern guides are turning. When men so diverse as\nTagore the Indian sage and Rathenau the German Trust magnate tell us\nthat the disease from which we are suffering is 'mechanization', and\nthat our crying need is for greater simplicity, it seems safe to predict\nthat Plato would not reject the possibility of providing a 'good life'\nfor the modern man in a world divested of most of the rattling and\ntinkling paraphernalia of which the nineteenth century so plumed itself\nas the inventor.\n\nLet us pass now to our second limitation, that arising not from the\ndifference of scale but from the difference of outlook between Greek and\nmodern speculation. We can best sum this up by saying that whereas\nmodern political thought, like modern thought generally, works from the\ninner to the outer, from the individual to the state and society, the\nancient thinkers habitually work in the opposite direction, setting the\ninterests of the community or state above those of the individual. This\nis what Fustel de Coulanges intended to convey when he declared that\nancient man had no conception of the meaning of liberty. Liberty is no\ndoubt a somewhat confusing and ambiguous term; it is hard to cut it\nloose from its political associations, from national independence and\ndemocratic self-government. We can perhaps therefore improve upon the\nFrench writer by saying that the Greek political thinkers do not\nrecognize, or do not make proper allowance for, the rights and\nresponsibilities of the individual soul. Just as they failed to\ndistinguish between Nationality and Government, so they failed also to\ndistinguish between Conscience and Public duty. Socrates, indeed,\nmeeting his death in obedience both to Conscience and Law, had a glimpse\nof the higher truth; but his followers did not take up this side of his\nmessage or, in so far as they did so in their study of individual\nmorality, they did not relate it to their theories of politics. It was a\ngreater than Socrates who summed up and put the problem with his\nincomparable directness and irony: _Render unto Caesar the things which\nare Caesar's and unto God the things which are God's_. If this had been\nsaid in the presence of Thucydides, the keenest practical brain that\napplied itself to Greek political thinking, he simply would not have\nknown what it meant. To him Caesar and God, or, to translate them into\nhis own language, Athens and Athena, were not opposing but practically\nidentical terms. When the Athenian, as he described him, 'spent his\nbody, as a mere external tool, in the city's service and counted his\nmind as most truly his own when employed on her behalf,' he was,\naccording to the universal Greek belief, serving both his God and his\nneighbour, both his own highest good and the noblest of the world's\ncauses. His life was a unity: for he had not yet learned to disentangle\nhis soul from the soul of the City or the herd, or his God from the god\nof Israel or of Athens. The Greek thinkers, as we shall see, sincerely\nendeavoured to distinguish between the 'good citizen' and 'the good man'\nand to base the State on foundations of the spirit; but their work was\nvitiated by their failure to realize the extent and urgency of the claim\nof the individual soul. Men must be spiritually free before they can\nco-operate politically on the highest terms. In the last analysis the\nweakness of Greek political speculation can be traced back to the\nweakness of Greek religion. Even Plato played with Pagan orthodoxy and\ngave the Delphic Apollo a titular place in his Utopia, proving himself\nas timid in touching Greek superstitions as English thinkers to-day are\nin touching the Monarchy. It is this basis of insincerity which reveals\nitself throughout the superstructure. Greek political thought contains\nalready the germs of the disease which, centuries later, led men,\nplebeians first, later patricians also, to turn away from the outworn\nsymbols that stood for the union of Church and State and to seek comfort\nin a religion which, if it undermined and eventually overturned the last\nand greatest of the ancient Empires, established the City of the Soul\nupon a firm and enduring basis. Julian's _Vicisti Galilaee_ marked the\nend of one strain or tradition in ancient political thought which,\noriginating in the local worships of the City-State, had lasted on, with\ngathering momentum, until, all over the known world, men bowed the knee\nbefore the altar of Caesar, the God-Emperor. From this there was no way\nforward except through revolution; and mankind paid, in the night of the\nDark Ages, for sins of compromise and insincerity committed during long\ncenturies of enlightenment.\n\nThe liabilities thus frankly stated, let us turn to the assets.\n\nThe first valuable contribution the Greeks made to political study was\nthat they invented it. It is not too much to say that, before\nfifth-century Greece, politics did not exist. There were powers and\nprincipalities, governments and subjects, but politics no more existed\nthan chemistry existed in the age of alchemy. An imitation of an idea,\nas Plato has taught us, is not the same as an idea; nor is the imitation\nof a science the same as a science. Rameses and Nebuchadnezzar, Croesus\nthe Lydian and Cyrus the Persian, ruled over great empires; but within\ntheir dominions there were no politics because there were no public\naffairs. There were only the private affairs of the sovereign and his\nruling class. Government and all that pertained to it, from military\nservice and taxation to the supply of women for the royal harem, was\nsimply the expression of the power and desire of the ruler. The great\nadvance made by Greece was to have recognized that public or common\ninterests exist and to have provided, first for their management, and\nsecondly for their study. In other words, the Greeks were the first to\nrescue the body politic from charlatans and to hand it over to\nphysicians.\n\nHow great an achievement this was we can best recognize when we consider\nhow large a place the true study of politics, and the terms and ideas to\nwhich it has given rise, fills in the life of the modern man--especially\nof the modern Englishman. Justice and liberty, law and democracy,\nparliament and public opinion--all these and many more we owe to the\npeasants and craftsmen of the small Greek republics who, having felt the\nneed for a better management of their humble concerns, set to work to\nprovide it, with the same inventiveness, the same adaptation of means to\nend, which led them, in other fields, to the invention of the classic\ntemple or of the drama. If it is going too far to say that every modern\npolitician owes his stock-in-trade of general ideas to the Greeks, there\nare certainly few who do not owe them their perorations.\n\nThis is not the place to enlarge on the features of Greek political\norganization or to point out the various elements in Greek political\ntheory or practice which have proved of permanent value. Only a very\nsummary appreciation can be attempted. But certain points can be picked\nout as being of special interest to the citizen of to-day.\n\nIn the first place, the Greeks, having made clear to themselves that\npublic or common affairs existed, sat down resolutely to study them.\nConvinced believers in reason, they did not fall into the convenient\nEnglish fallacy of believing that institutions are not made but 'grow',\nor that difficulties which seem too thorny for timid fingers to touch\nwill settle themselves by being left alone. Political problems, they\nfelt, were caused by men, by the interaction of human wills and desires,\nand by men, by the conscious and deliberate application of human\nintelligence, they could and must be solved. In spite of their belief in\nmysterious powers which control the destinies of men and nations, they\ndid not think it decent to abandon public affairs to Providence; nor did\nthey avert their gaze from them as too mundane for the squeamish\nintellectual to handle and turn them over to the tender mercies of the\nignorant and less scrupulous demagogue or doctrinaire. Their public\naffairs were no more interesting than ours: they were indeed\nconsiderably less interesting--unless we are prepared to argue that the\nelection of generals to command an army far smaller than the Swiss is a\nmore arresting issue than the choice of a government to bear rule over\n400 millions of men on five continents, or that the question of peace or\nwar between two small neighbouring mountain territories outweighs in\ninterest the discussion of the relations between the white and yellow\nraces of mankind. And, if Greek politics were not interesting in\nthemselves, they suffered still further by comparison with the other\ntopics which lay ready to claim the Greek citizen's attention. The\nmodern voter who is too idle to cast his ballot, will give up to\nbusiness or to pleasure, to motor-car and music-hall, the time and the\ntrouble that he owes to humanity. When the Athenian spent a hot and\nexhausting day (for why should we think their nerves less susceptible to\nglare than ours?) listening to a parliamentary debate or to a lawsuit on\na hard stone seat in the open air, he was postponing till to-morrow, or\ntill his crops and fruit-trees permitted him the leisure, the discussion\nof some masterpiece of drama or some new issue of human thought which\nhad leapt during the last few days or months from the brain of a fellow\ncitizen into immortality. If it is hard for the citizen of New York to\nspare the time to dethrone Tammany, or for the electors of Great Britain\nto uproot its more outwardly respectable analogue on this side of the\nAtlantic, when his life, and his newspapers, are full of vulgar and\nephemeral distractions, how much harder must it have been for a\nEuripidean enthusiast, or a student of Socrates or Protagoras, to\ndescend for long days to solid earth in order to strike a bargain with a\nThracian chieftain or to assess some poor devil's damages in drachmae!\nLet us honour, not pity or despise them, for having thought it right to\ndo so, for having deliberately determined to infuse into public affairs,\nin themselves so drab and dull, so deficient in the fineness and\nsubtlety which characterize men's more intimate concerns, the interest\nderived from the very fact that honest, sincere, and able minds devoted\nthemselves to their study. As Huxley could make the geological\nprocession of the ages revolve round a piece of chalk, and Sir Richard\nOwen reconstruct primitive man from the bone of his great toe, so the\ncitizen of Athens, as we see him depicted for us in the pages of\nThucydides, could raise the great permanent issues of politics, and\ncause them to remain living for us two thousand years later, in debates\nwhich were ostensibly concerned with mere provincial trivialities. When\nsuch was the atmosphere created, no wonder that those who stayed away\nwere held up to obloquy in an expression (\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03c9\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 {idi\u00f4t\u00eas}) of which\nour English 'idiot' is the exact transcription.\n\nLet us dwell for a moment on the attitude of mind in which the Greek\ncitizen approached political problems. He was both a Conservative and a\nRadical; or rather, he brought to politics the best of Conservatism\ntogether with the best of Radicalism. He was a Conservative because he\nreverenced tradition and recognized the power and value of custom. None\nof our modern Conservative writers and defenders of the existing order,\nnot Burke himself or Bismarck or Chateaubriand, had a deeper sense than\nthe Athenian for 'those unwritten ordinances whose transgression brings\nadmitted shame'. Athens was a Conservative democracy. Most democracies,\ndespite the labels of their politicians, are in reality Conservative;\nfor the common man whose r\u00e9gime they represent is Conservative from the\nvery nature of his life and occupation; it takes leisure and travel, or\na wider education than any democracy has as yet bestowed on its young\npeople, to lift the minds of the mass of men out of the rut of habit.\nBut Athens was far more Conservative than the modern democracies with\nwhom we are acquainted. Where the British public rebukes an awkward\nwriter by conspiring to boycott his books, so that, unless he has\nprivate means, he is eventually silenced, where the United States, going\na step farther, deny his works the privilege of the mails, Athens does\nnot scruple to administer hemlock, and, if an _\u00e9lite_ is indignant or\nsorrowful, the democracy applauds. Even at the height of the recent Red\nTerror the United States never went so Conservative as this. This should\nhelp us to realize the rock-firm basis of tradition, of use and wont, of\npatriarchal sanctities, which underlay the working of fifth-century\nAthenian democracy as we watch its apparent vicissitudes. The citizen\ncould use his mind as freely as he would on the material presented to\nhim for his consideration; but there was a point at which the State, and\nhis own instincts, cried 'Halt'; and, except in rare cases, he obeyed.\nIt is only fair to add that the most enlightened modern opinion would\nentirely support the Athenian view against the discussion of 'unwritten\nlaws' in Parliament. The difference between the Conservative Athenian\ndemocrat and the modern Liberal in such matters is, not that the one\nrefuses, while the other demands, the discussion of life's sanctities in\nParliament and law-court, but that the one appeals to custom and the\nother to conscience as the sanction of the unwritten law itself. Whether\nit be the gods or man, the law of the hearth or of the heart, that is at\nissue, both agree that what is private and holy has no place in the\nforum of common debate.\n\nBut, within these well-recognized limits, the Greek citizen was a\nRadical; that is to say, he was ready to apply his reason to public\naffairs without fear or prejudice. He loved straight and sincere\nthinking; he tried hard to face the real situation before him and not to\nbe clouded or led astray by side-issues or inhibitions. There is many a\nlesson in common honesty to be learnt by our politicians and public in\nthe speeches of Thucydides. Shallow critics have been known to dub them\ncynical, an adjective which the English, adepts in self-deception, are\nfond of applying to nations sincerer in self-analysis than themselves.\nWhen we refuse formally to reopen an issue on which action is in fact\nbeing taken daily, because it is a party question and a Coalition\ngovernment is in power, when we leave to the healing mercies of time a\nproblem with regard to which inaction itself constitutes a policy, when\nwe deliberately invent party labels or election cries designed to\nconfuse the mind of the voter and to distract him from the real issue,\nwhen our politicians have become professionals in the art of what\nThucydides described as 'the use of fair phrases to arrive at guilty\nends' and a British Premier, more euphemistically, as 'political\nstrategy', we might do worse than sit down to read, mark, learn, digest,\nand apply to our modern situations, the immortal speeches or essays in\nwhich Thucydides lays bare for us the heart of the political life of his\nday, and to let them act as a purge of some of our own too sugary diet.\nThe bitter-sweet of truth is not always popular on the hustings; but it\nis good feeding for the plain citizen, whether ancient or modern.\n\nThis leads on to a further reflection. The Greeks, in their political\nthinking, were essentially realists, rather than idealists. This is true\nof all the Greek writers, even those who, like Plato, starting from the\nmarket-place of Athens, lead us up to a Utopia in the clouds. They were\nrealists in that they based their political studies on the world as it\nis and human nature as it is, rather than on some personal and fanciful\nconception of what man and the world ought to be. To put it in other\nwords, they are realists because they are psychologists, because they\napplied the psychological method to political problems. That they were\nthe first to do so goes without saying: for no one before them had\napplied any method at all, except in the most rough-and-ready manner.\nBut they did it so perfectly, with such utter and artistic simplicity,\nthat those who followed them accepted or criticized their results\nwithout observing the basis of human study on which they were built up,\nand it is only in quite recent years, through the work of patient\ninquirers who, like Graham Wallas, have laboured systematically in both\nfields, that politics and psychology have once more been drawn together.\n\nIt may perhaps seem strange to a modern reader to be told that, in this\nvery important respect, Thucydides, Plato, and Aristotle are sounder in\ntheir method than the whole long line of political thinkers and\nstatesmen up to our own day. Let the reader who doubts it turn to the\ntexts. He will find that all the three writers whom I have named toiled\nat the study of human nature before they set pen to paper. The\n_Republic_ opens with several books of psychological analysis, no doubt\nat times a little fantastic in its attempts at premature classification,\nbut full of life and reality, and not only Greek reality but human\nreality. Aristotle precedes his work on _Politics_, in which he embodied\nthe results of a study of all the available political and constitutional\nmaterial of his day--for a Greek could work like a modern German or\nAmerican thesis-grubber when he tried--with a book on _Ethics_ which is\nstill regarded, quite rightly, as a standard work for the modern\nstudent. As for Thucydides, his knowledge of men, the fruit of patient\nexperience deepened by disappointment, is felt behind every line of his\nbook, as one descries it in the features of his undegenerate descendant\nVenizelos. Turn now to the moderns. Where in Hobbes or in Bentham, in\nLocke or Burke or Rousseau, in the individualists or the Socialists, the\nHegelians or the anarchists, do we find, until quite recently, a really\nwide and open-minded attempt to see man as he is? Our ears are assailed\nby a chorus of catchwords, based on some arbitrary and ephemeral\nestimate of men's reactions to outward events and institutions. Men\nargue backwards and forwards as to whether 'human nature can be\nchanged', whether man is guided solely by self-interest, or is only\nwaiting to be set free from sordid cares to be guided solely by his love\nfor his fellows, whether fear or hope, custom or the sense of adventure,\nform his natural and most compelling spur to action. Meanwhile in the\ngreat debate, in Burke's _Reflections_ as in Marx's _Capital_, in Maine\nand Mill and Mazzini, as among the hacks who vulgarize their results in\ntext-books and election literature, man as he is has vanished behind a\ncloud of doctrine or verbiage. We need the simplicity, or cynicism, of\nthe Greeks to recall us to realities.\n\nLet us for a moment imagine Thucydides face to face with the problems of\nour post-war world of to-day. We have only to read his immortal analysis\nof the war-mood of Greece, and of the nervous and emotional phenomena\nwhich accompanied it, to realize that his first effort would have been\nto explain us to ourselves. He would not allow us to acquiesce idly in\nour vague disillusionment, our impatience of foreigners, our suspicion\nof the idealisms of the Wilson brand. He would trace our discontent\nruthlessly to its sources and hold up to our eyes the strange compound\nof sorrow and fatigue, impatience and disappointment, aspiration and\nhelplessness which makes us what we are. 'The war-mood brought with it\nmany and terrible symptoms such as have occurred and will always\ncontinue to occur, so long as human nature remains what it is; though in\na severer or milder form, according to the variety of the particular\ncases.' Thucydides would have had eyes for it in all its forms, mild or\nsevere, simple or complex, pitiful or repulsive. He would show us the\nEnglish upper and middle class, shaken out of its comfort and\ncomplacency, its easy and patronizing security, by the shock of war and\nbereavement, facing a future of unknown and terrifying ideas and forces,\nwith the brutal tax-gatherer administering the _coup de gr\u00e2ce_ to its\nequanimity: the working class, called to fight for a cause which it but\ndimly understood, in the hope of a new world which victory was to call\ninto being, exhorted by the nation's leaders to be as daring in its home\npolicies as in the trenches, and then confronted with a world of failing\nmarkets and impoverished customers and with the full rigour of the\nmerciless laws of supply and demand which, just because it had wished\nthem out of existence, it had grown accustomed to believe could be\nignored, oscillating, according to age, temperament or experience,\nbetween resignation and impotent fury, between old-fashioned\ntrade-unionism and the latest fashion in extremism: France, emerging\nnerve-racked from a fifty years' obsession and a five years' nightmare,\nhalf-dead with sorrow and suspense, yet too proud in victory to own her\nweakness, looking round, half-defiant, half-wistful, among her allies\nfor one who can understand her unspoken need, and longing, with all the\nintensity of her sensitive nature, to be able to resume, in security and\nquietness of mind, the arts and activities of normal life in which she\nhas been, and will be again, the Athens of the modern world: Germany,\ntougher in fibre than her western neighbour yet equally shaken and\nexhausted: a land of sheep without a shepherd, rushing hither and\nthither seeking for a direction and a _Weltanschauung_, her amazing\npowers of industry and concentration and her rich and turbid life of\nfeeling running to waste for lack of channelled guidance: Belgium,\nself-confident, industrious and rejuvenated: Italy, made one at last and\nmeasuring her strength to face the tasks of a new epoch in her history:\nand, behind, the great new surging world of the Slav, from the\ndisciplined enthusiasm of Prague, under her philosopher-president, to\nthe birth-agonies of a new Russia in the grip of the rough\ntyrant-physicians of the Kremlin. All this a modern Thucydides would\nattempt to set before us, not forgetting the conservative forces and the\ngods of the older generation, the great Catholic and Protestant, Moslem\nand Socialist traditions, the power of the bankers and the merchants,\nthe universities and the press, and all the various types of humanity\nproduced and hall-marked by their activity. And then, and not till then,\nhaving shown us what we are, each of us in his niche and all of us\ntogether in our little corner in the vast Temple of mankind, having made\nus see our pettyisms and orthodoxies against a universal background of\ntime and space, he would have broken silence and allowed himself to\nspeak to us of remedies. _Know yourself_ is the first, perhaps the only,\nmessage of the scientific historian to our bewildered age.\n\nBut by what right, it will be asked, in this age of _Wissenschaft_ and\n_Fachmenschen_, of specialism and research-institutes and organized\nintellectual production, do you speak of Thucydides as a scientific\nhistorian? Here is a man who, without a university degree or any\nuniversity training at all, after a brief military career for which he\ntook no staff college course (as witness his generalship), sits down to\nwrite a chronicle of the war in which he played a part, basing his\naccount simply on his own experience and on the testimony of such\neye-witnesses as he was able to meet. Any tiro on the history staff at a\nmodern college or university could predict the result--one of those\nbulky volumes, full of detail and post-prandial reminiscence, in which\nsplenetic elderly gentlemen have so often sought to justify their own\nexistence, and to call down damnation on the War Office, before an\nindifferent public. How can anything better be expected from a mere\nsoldier, a rough practical man, untrained in the arts of research, in\ncollecting facts on slips of paper and arranging and re-arranging them\ntill an induction emerges, in looking up reference books in libraries\nand 'listing' them in a neat alphabetical bibliography, totally ignorant\nof the _Hilfswissenschaften_, the laborious subsidiary studies on the\nbasis of which scientific history is built up, ignorant even of foreign\nlanguages, who has read no sociology, and is not even aware of its\nexistence, whose geographical studies are limited to his own journeys\nand the tales of his friends, who, finally, has the impertinence to\nintersperse his narrative with fictitious speeches, thus destroying any\npretence at a scientific character for his treatise, and revealing it in\nits true nature as a mere work of art or imagination? It may indeed be\ndoubted whether a modern trained librarian, working according to the\nclassification laid down by the standard Congress library at Washington,\nwould, when his attention was drawn to it, admit so offending a writer\non to his history shelves at all. His place, he would probably say, is\nwith the prose-poets, or with the writers of historical fiction next\ndoor to them.\n\nYet turn to the opening chapters of Thucydides' book. You will find most\nof the sciences on which long modern treatises are written: but you will\nfind something more: you will find them blended into a unity. Let those\nwho deny that Thucydides was a sociologist, who continue to claim that\nHerbert Spencer, inventor of the horrid word, invented also the science,\nre-read Thucydides' account of the evolution (for it was as an evolution\nthat he saw and depicted it) of Greek society from the earliest times to\nhis own day. Let those who cry up anthropology examine into his\ntreatment of legend and custom and his power, untrained in Seminar or\ninstitute, to use it as sociological evidence. Let the geographers, too\nforgetful sometimes that man is not the creature of environment alone,\nrefresh their minds by recalling those brilliant sallies in geographical\nthinking in which he explains some of the features of early Greek\nsettlement and city-building. It is not only orthodox history, of the\nschool of Ranke, of which Thucydides is the father and inspirer: there\nis not one of the many movements which have sought to broaden out\nhistorical study in recent years, from Buckle and Leplay and Vidal de la\nBlache down to the psycho-analysts of our own day and of to-morrow who\nwill not find in Thucydides some gleaming anticipation along the path of\ntheir own thought.\n\nHere we touch upon what is perhaps the cardinal merit of the Greek\npolitical thinkers, as it is of the Greek contribution as a whole. They\nsaw all the problems: but saw each in its place within the larger whole.\nThey 'saw life steadily and saw it whole'. Matthew Arnold's line is\nhackneyed enough; but it cannot be bettered. To put the same thought in\nanother way, the Greeks were natural Catholics, while we of to-day,\nespecially on the political field, are constantly relapsing into an\nunhelpful Protestantism. By Catholicism I mean nothing doctrinal, or\nindeed religious at all, but simply the habit of mind which insists on\nlooking at the whole before the parts, at setting the common before the\nsectional interest, and in sweetening and harmonizing the inevitable\ncontrarieties and antagonisms of life by remaining steadily conscious of\nits major and reconciling interests. A Catholic is one whose intellect,\nto use the words of Newman, himself, despite his religious label, one of\nthe greatest of the tribe, 'cannot be partial, cannot be exclusive,\ncannot be impetuous, cannot be at a loss, cannot but be patient,\ncollected and majestically calm, because it discerns the end in every\nbeginning, the origin in each end, the law in every interruption, the\nlimit in each delay, because it ever knows where it stands and how its\npath lies from one point to another'. Protestantism, on the other hand,\nis the attitude of protest, of revolt, of indignation: the spirit which\nis conscious only of what it is _against_, and is too ignorant, or too\nangry, to survey the whole field of problems involved in its protest or\nto think out an alternative scheme. If the Greeks can render us no other\nservice in our discontents they can at least lift us, by the example of\ntheir wide and fearless vision, out of our petty Protestant\nrebelliousness and recrimination and plant our feet solidly on the rock\nof steady Catholic thinking.\n\nTake a few instances, drawn from Plato, of what I call the Catholic\nspirit. Perhaps the most difficult and unsettling of all our modern\nproblems is that of the relations between men and women in a society\nwhich has granted or is about to grant to women complete equality of\nrights and opportunities without having effected the corresponding inner\nrevolution of thought and sentiment. Masculine society, in other words,\ndespite a multitude of professions, has not yet admitted, still less\nassimilated, the educated woman into its ranks. Here is a problem with\nfar reaching and most difficult implications which Plato discussed more\nthan two thousand years ago, but in how different a spirit from so many\nof the 'feminists' of to-day. Not that he was less 'advanced' in his\nspeculations: he was ready to face all that there was to face and to go\na good deal farther in his suggestions of policy than would be regarded\nas printable in a modern English or American review. But his spirit is\nthroughout perfectly serene and, in the best sense of the word,\nscientific, so that he can work out his argument to the end without a\ntrace of squeamishness or false modesty. Where shall we find in our\nmodern discussions of women's employment, equal work for equal pay, and\nthe like, the central point so simply and clearly stated as in the\nfollowing sentence: 'Then, if we find either the male or the female sex\nexcelling the other in any art or other pursuit, we shall say that this\nparticular pursuit must be assigned to one and not to the other; but if\nwe find that the difference simply consists in this, that the female\nconceives and the male begets, we shall not allow that that goes any way\nto prove that a woman differs from a man with reference to the subject\nof which we are speaking, and we shall still consider that our guardians\nand their wives should follow the same pursuits.' If all our modern\ndiscussion were as clean and direct as this, we should have made greater\nprogress in this subject by now. Greek intellectual integrity, and\nclarity of thought and expression, were not hampered by a festering and\nobstructive legacy of what it is a libel on a great movement to describe\nas Puritanism.\n\nTake a second example--the influence of occupation on character. This is\na subject which goes to the root of many of our social problems for,\ntill we have studied the reactions of different classes of employment,\nnot only on the body but on the mind, and perfected our methods of\nvocational guidance, we shall still have left open one of the greatest\navenues to unhappiness. The modern inquirer will find a very interesting\nadumbration of this line of thought in the _Republic_; and if here, as\nin the problem of the relations between men and women, he finds Plato's\nremedies somewhat drastic, and is inclined to dissent from his veto on\nactors and acrobats, let him consider the appalling extent to which,\nduring recent generations, the consumer has been pampered at the expense\nof the producer, and ask himself how often, when he attends a music-hall\nas a narcotic after a distracting day, or when he rings up on the\ntelephone or books a ticket at a railway office, he considers the kind\nof life to which he is an accomplice in condemning those who minister to\nhis needs and desires. Plato believed in the value of beauty and, being\nmore than a mere modern aesthete, held no skindeep creed. He knew and\nunderstood the vital significance of rhythm and harmony, of grace and\nfreedom, in the outward order of life as in the soul; and if he found\nhimself plunged down in the centre of one of our modern hives of\nprogress he would have some searching questions to ask. For 'absence of\ngrace' he tells us 'and bad rhythm and bad harmony are sisters to bad\nwords and bad nature' and 'we would not have our guardians reared among\nimages of evil as in a foul pasture and there day by day, and little by\nlittle, gather impressions from all that surrounds them, until at last a\ngreat mass of evil gathers in their inmost souls and they know it not'.\nHas the most widespread malady of our time ever been better diagnosed;\nand do not our capitalist and socialist physicians, with their merely\nmaterial remedies, look very small by the side of this commanding and\nconvincing simplicity of statement?\n\nWe have dwelt upon some of the special directions in which Thucydides\nand Plato can be of help to us. Let us now turn briefly to the third of\nthe great triad. Aristotle is, of course, the most systematic thinker of\nthe three: and it is just for that very reason that the two elements\nalready noted in Greek political thought, the local and ephemeral and\nthe universal, are most closely interwoven and most baffling to\ndisentangle. Tutor of Alexander though he was, his mind is incapable of\nstepping outside the city-state framework. His _Ethics_ is half a\ntreatise on human nature, half a book, akin to the _Characters_ of\nTheophrastus, on deportment for a Greek citizen. No wonder that\nsuccessive generations of English undergraduates have failed to respond\nto the human excellence or social charm, of his hero or paragon,\ndescribed as 'the big-souled' or 'magnificent man'. Similarly the\n_Politics_ is a book in which it needs a trained reader, already\nfamiliar with Greek life, to pick out the universal from the particular\nand draw his own modern conclusions. But when you have read, say, the\nfirst book of the _Politics_ in this spirit, when you have ruled out\nfrom what is said of the State all that pertains solely to the City,\nwhen you have made allowance for the hazardous biological,\npsychological, and sociological generalizations ('man is more of a\npolitical animal than bees or other gregarious animals', 'he who is by\nnature not his own but another's and not a man is by nature a slave',\n'the state is by nature clearly prior to the family and to the\nindividual, since the whole is of necessity prior to the part'), based,\nas the examples show, on the embryonic condition of those sciences at\nthe time, you have a large residuum of practical wisdom that is and will\nremain of value to the modern world.\n\nLet us look for a moment at one element in this legacy, for it has\nrecently become a subject of much controversy--Aristotle's conception of\nthe State, and of its relation to other social and political groupings.\nAs has already been said, Greek political thought is open to criticism\nfor unduly neglecting the claim of the individual. Aristotle is less\nopen to this indictment than either of his great compeers: he does\nindeed allow, for certain favoured individuals, an inner or\n'theoretical' life, as he calls it, remote from the concerns of the\nCity-State and almost, except for its excessive intellectuality,\nrecalling the monastic ideal of the Middle Age. But this is only for the\nfewest. Nevertheless it involved the admission that behind the citizen\nremained the man, who might conceivably on occasion have his rights,\nthat 'political science', as he says, 'does not make men', as Thucydides\nregarded Athens as making Athenians, 'but receives them from nature and\nuses them'. And the justification for this taking over of human nature\nby the state, this subjection of man over the whole or part of his\nnature, is clearly set forth. It is that 'man when perfected [i. e.\ntaken over and educated by the State] is the best of animals, but, when\nseparated from law and justice, he is the worst of all', or, as he puts\nit in another place, the man who does not participate in State or city\nlife is 'either a beast or a god'--more likely (as the order of the\nwords indicates) the former. In other words, it is law and justice, not,\nas Thucydides would have it, an exaltation of the spirit to its highest\npower, nor, as Plato preaches, some organic identification between the\ninner life of the soul and the outward order of society, which is the\nbasis and justification of politics. 'It is justice', he says, using the\nword in a strict, not a platonic or metaphysical sense, 'which is the\nbond of men in states, and the administration of justice, i. e. the\ndetermination of what is just, which is the principle of order in\npolitical society.'\n\nNow, with this principle clearly laid down, and with the claim of the\nindividual thus partially or at least implicitly recognized, it is\neasier to understand Aristotle's _intransigeant_ attitude towards the\nclaims of associations other than the state, a point on which much\nrecent controversy has turned. 'Every state', so his _Politics_ open,\n'is an association of some kind, and every association is established\nwith a view to some good.... But if all associations aim at some good,\nthe state, or political association, _which is the highest of all and\nwhich embraces all the rest_, aims, and in a greater degree than any\nother, at the highest good.' In other words, in cases of conflict of\nallegiance between the state or political association and some other\nform of grouping, whether Church or Trade Union or professional or\nhumanitarian organization, the claim of the state must take precedence.\n\nThis doctrine has been much attacked as involving an indefensible 'State\nabsolutism', a denial of 'personality' to lesser groups, even as a\nnegation of the right to lesser loyalties. Mr. Figgis, in a number of\nsuggestive, if unconvincing, writings, has recalled the theories of the\nJesuits and other anti-state minorities and protestants on this subject,\nreinforcing them from the Nonconformist and Trade Union theories or\ninclinations of our own day: and a whole school of younger 'progressive'\nintellectuals made bold to follow him. The assault on state-sovereignty\nhas, however, already been brought to a standstill by the impact of\nfact. Strange as it may appear in an age of sectarianism and rebel\ntheorizing, the war revealed the truth that the mass of mankind, now as\nin ancient Greece, respond at need to the call of citizenship: that when\nthe cry goes up summoning each and all to the tents, it is not this or\nthat little tabernacle but the protecting shelter of the larger and more\ntruly representative state organizations to which men flock; that the\nsects and conventicles which have fed the enthusiasm and provided the\nactivity of leisure hours cannot maintain their appeal when the whole\nfabric of our society is in danger. Exclusive of those who refused\nallegiance on true grounds of conscience, and the despicable remnant who\nshammed a similar conviction, the number of Englishmen who definitely\nset allegiance to some other political or social grouping before\nallegiance to the state was surprisingly small. So little are\nfundamental loyalties, or the dictates of an unanalysed common sense,\naffected, in this country, by fine-spun theories and arguments.\n\nBut what we called commonsense views, after all, can be analysed and\nought to be analysed. And there is a very sound and practical reason, as\nAristotle knew, why men prefer the state to lesser associations. It is\nbecause the state leaves them more free. Those who talk of\nstate-absolutism are ignoring the simple truth that there is no tyranny\nlike the tyranny of near neighbours. The smaller the group the tighter\nits stranglehold over your life and activities. Groups and lesser\nloyalties are highly necessary, and indeed desirable, in our modern\nlarge-scale society; but they involve men, and especially weak-willed\nand thoughtless men, in far greater dangers than their larger\ncitizenship. What the confessional at its worst may be to a woman,\nprofessional or business or other loyalty may be to a man. The modern\nworld is full of men who have bartered away their integrity of soul to\npreserve the unity of the party or the unbroken tradition of the\norganization or the interests of the trade or even the existence of the\nbusiness. If the secrets of all hearts could be revealed, how many high\nofficials and dignitaries in Church and Party, in Trade Union and\nemployers' federation, would be discovered to be thinking and even\nsaying in private what their lesser loyalties forbid them to proclaim in\npublic to their fellow-guildsmen. The state, in its larger field, may\nsometimes commit terrible blunders and even crimes; but at least, in\nthese days of large-scale government, it does not expose its citizens to\nthe daily falsehoods and hypocrisies, to the insidious clogging of the\nwheels of progress with the grit of petty personal considerations, which\nseem inevitable in the life of the smaller groupings of men and women.\nSeen in this light, the state stands out as the guardian not only of\njustice but of freedom, of an inner freedom of soul and spirit with\nwhich the professional and syndicalist attitude of mind is so often in\nflagrant, if unavowed, contradiction. If all this was not visible to\nAristotle when he penned his immortal opening paragraph of the\n_Politics_, he is at least entitled to the credit of having laid his\ndoctrine of state-sovereignty on a foundation so sure that over twenty\ncenturies of discussion from the Stoics and Cynics, through Augustine\nand Dante, down to Rousseau and Lenin, have not been able to shake it.\nAgainst Church and Soviet, as against sage and hermit and anarchist, the\nterritorial state still holds its own over the whole civilized world;\nand the latest construction of idealism at Geneva, misnamed though it\nis, is but an association of such states, far larger indeed in average\nsize, but of the same kind and composition as those upon which the Greek\nphilosopher fixed as the true object of political study and the most\neffective and enduring agency for securing a good life for civilized\nmankind.\n\nWhat are the chief and most enduring thoughts which contact with the\nGreek political thinkers leaves with us? They are surely twofold, the\nfirst concerning the material of politics, the second concerning the men\nand women of to-day who are called to be citizens. Public affairs, we\nfeel, so far from being a tiresome preoccupation or 'a dirty business'\nare one of the great permanent interests of the race: if they were not\ntoo trivial or too debasing for great artists like Thucydides and Plato,\nwe need not fear lest they be too trivial or debasing for ourselves. And\nif they are not beneath our study, neither should they elude it by being\nenwrapped in clouds of rhetoric or in the cotton-wool of sentimentality.\nThe Greeks should teach us, once and for all, that the common affairs of\nmankind are matter to think about as well as to feel about. What\ndistinguishes what we call a 'good' statesman and a 'public-spirited'\ncitizen from their less truly political colleagues is not that they have\nwarmer feelings--there are as many affectionate sons and loving husbands\namong the tools of politics as among the elect--but the fact that by a\nresolute use of the related powers of intellect and imagination they\nhave been able to raise their feelings on to a higher plane and to face\ngreat issues with a mind attuned, not to the familiar appeal of hearth\nand home, but to the grander and more difficult music of humanity. The\npsychologists are teaching us, in the individual life, how we can\n'sublimate' our emotions, when life denies them an outlet on the level\nof our desire, by raising them to a higher and more rarified range of\nfeeling and action. As we can sublimate our love of individuals, so we\ncan sublimate our love of country, not quenching or denying our\npatriotism, but consciously dividing and apportioning it. We must learn\nto preserve for our blood and nation that precious part of our gift of\nservice which, just because it is intimate and of the family, cannot be\noffered directly to humanity; but we must learn also the more difficult\nlesson of transferring to the international stage, the arena where men,\nbecause they are men, labour at common tasks and seek a greatest common\nmeasure of co-operation, all these interests and loyalties which safely\nand rightly belong there. This is the claim and call of the modern\nCaesar, whether his separate capitals remain, as they are to-day, in\nLondon, Paris, Washington, and the other centres of state-sovereignty,\nor whether mankind can rise, if not in our own day, to the level of a\nsingle allegiance. We shall neglect that call at our peril. For, unless\nwe render unto Caesar that which is properly his, unless we discard our\nunthinking and divisive nationalisms, our noble sentiments will avail us\nnothing and, in the civil war of the angels, patriotism against\npatriotism, Mammon and Beelzebub will come into their own. In these days\nof large-scale organization and mammoth syndicates, it takes a Caesar, a\nmulti-national government, to keep a giant trust at bay. Had the land of\nWashington and Lincoln been broken up into separate governments instead\nof drawn together into a single territory of United States, private\ninterests would have taken and defeated each government in detail, and\nfreedom would have vanished from the land--unless indeed, in some\nconflict of devil with devil, of bank and railroad against oil and\nlumber, the angels crept once more into their own. The same reasoning\napplies to the smaller governments in other continents to-day. Local\npatriotism is but a stripling David in face of the Goliaths of modern\ncommercialism. More and more men will be driven, if not by reason, then\nby exploitation and suffering, to learn the lesson of what is still\nmistakenly thought of as imperialism until they find themselves crying\nout, with the apostle of the Gentiles, who fought his own battle against\nnationalism, 'I appeal unto Caesar.'\n\nBut the Greeks have a message for us not only as regards the material of\nour politics but as regards ourselves. What can we do to help humanity\nforward in these problems of its common affairs? The age of\nUtopia-dreams is over. We know now that modern science has made the\nworld one place and that social salvation is not to be found, as the\nearly socialists imagined, by fleeing from the haunts of men and\nfounding some model city in a wilderness. We must make our contribution\nhere and now, in the drab world in which fate has set us. If we cannot\nhope to turn it into Utopia, let us at least make it as much like Utopia\nas we can. This, after all, is Plato's message, even in the most\nidealistic and visionary of his books. The famous passage is worth\nquoting in detail:\n\n     'Then do you think any less of our argument because we cannot prove\n     that it is possible to found a state of the kind we have\n     described?'\n\n     'Surely not,' he said....\n\n     'Then do not compel me to show that what we have decided in our\n     argument could in all respects be reproduced in experience. If we\n     manage to discover how a state could be organized in any close\n     correspondence to our description, then you must allow that we have\n     discovered that your commands could be realized. Will you not be\n     content with that? I certainly should be.'\n\n     'Yes, I will,' he said.\n\n     'Then next apparently we must try to discover ... what is the\n     smallest change by which a state might arrive at this manner of\n     constitution....'\n\n     'Most certainly,' he said.\n\n     'Well, there is one change,' I said, 'which I think we could\n     certainly prove would bring about the revolution. It is certainly\n     neither a small nor an easy change, but it is possible.'\n\n     'What is it?' he said.\n\n     'Now,' I said, 'I am at the very topic which we likened to the\n     greatest wave. Spoken, however, it shall be, even though it is\n     likely to deluge me with laughter and ridicule.... Consider then\n     what I am about to say.'\n\n     'Say on,' he said.\n\n     'Unless,' I said, 'lovers of wisdom bear sovereign rule in states,\n     or those who are now called sovereigns and governors become sincere\n     and capable lovers of wisdom, and government and love of wisdom be\n     brought together, and unless the numerous natures who at present\n     pursue either government or wisdom, the one to the exclusion of the\n     other, be forcibly debarred from this behaviour, there will be no\n     respite from evil, my dear Glaucon, for states, nor, I fancy, for\n     humanity; nor will this constitution, which we have just described\n     in our argument, come to that realization which is possible for it\n     and see the light of day. It is this which has for so long made me\n     hesitate to speak. I saw how paradoxical it would sound. For it is\n     given to few to perceive that no other constitution could ever\n     bring happiness either to states or individuals.'\n\nThus far the philosopher of antiquity. His words are sometimes\ninterpreted as a cry for some philosopher-genius to take the task of\ngovernment out of our too feeble grasp. But that is not his message for\nus. The age in which philosopher-emperors were possible has passed\nbeyond recall. To us Plato's words are an appeal to become, each and all\nof us, in our own sphere, lovers of wisdom according to the measure of\nour ability. If we would amend the world around us--and it is in sore\nneed of amendment--our first duty is to eschew falsehood and to follow\ntruth in our own lives, in our thoughts and actions. Revolutions spring\nnot from without inwards but from within outwards; and it is often when\nthe external world seems most sick and sorrowful, when selfishness and\nirresponsibility sit enthroned in the world's seats of government, that\nthe power of truth is most active in the silent region of the soul,\nstrengthening it in order that it may issue forth once again to impress\nman's unconquerable purpose of order, justice and freedom upon the\nrecalcitrant material which forms the stuff of men's common problems on\nthis small globe of ours.\n\nA. E. ZIMMERN.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAMPS OF GREEK ART\n\n\nAmid the superficialities and struggles of the world around us, it is\nrefreshing to turn back for a moment to the mellow wisdom of Matthew\nArnold; and I will start with a quotation from _Literature and Dogma_:\n'As well imagine a man with a sense for sculpture not cultivating it by\nthe help of the remains of Greek art, or a man with a sense for poetry\nnot cultivating it by the help of Homer and Shakespeare, as a man with a\nsense for conduct not cultivating it by the help of the Bible.' To\nArnold the Bible, Homer, Shakespeare, Greek art, are the great and\neternal classics, which for all time must be the stimulus and the models\nfor the greatest of human achievements. Beyond doubt in the fifty years\nsince Arnold wrote there has been a marked drift away from classics of\nevery kind. To acknowledge classics at all seems a survival of the\nspirit of aristocracy. We are convinced that we are better than our\nfathers, and must break away from their tutelage. In some degree this\narises out of the unrest and nervous strain produced by the great war.\nBut it does not come only from nervous tension. It is a definite\ntendency of society, which has to be considered on its merits by all who\nfeel called on to take a share in the world movement. We cannot ignore\nthose who are drifting away from the settled anchorages, or we run the\nrisk of being ignored ourselves.\n\nThe task has fallen to me to try to give reasons why Greek art has still\na claim on our attention. Among Englishmen the appreciation of art never\nhas been and never can be as keen as the appreciation of poetry and\nphilosophy. But on the other hand I think it can be shown that in the\nfield of art our debt to Greece is even greater than in the field of\nphilosophy and poetry. For in these latter we have a certain national\ngenius, and have produced classics recognized through Europe. But in art\nour achievements have been but moderate; and at the present time a\nliving sense of art is probably rarer among us than in any highly\ncivilized country except America.\n\nI will begin with a bold assertion, which I hope to justify as we\nproceed. But for ancient Greece, the art of Europe would to-day be on\nmuch the same level as the fantastic and degraded art of India. And but\nfor the continued influence of Greek art, that of Europe would\ncontinually be in danger of drifting into chaotic extravagance.\n\nIn the century before the Persian wars of 500-480 B. C., Greece, both\nIonian and Dorian, was throwing out fresh shoots of life in every\ndirection, breaking through the crust of archaic convention, producing a\nnew standard of excellence, in poetry, in philosophy, in history, and in\nart. In every province, morals, intellect, imagination, Greece was\nstriking out, to the right and the left. And in the century after the\nPersian wars, she reaped the full harvest of her splendid sowing, and\nproduced the masterpieces which have remained ever since memorable, to\nthe study of which each generation recurs, and whence it learns of what\nhuman nature is capable.\n\nAfter 400 B. C. there was not, as many suppose, a sudden decline in the\nquality of artistic production. Many of the works of the later centuries\nwere in their way almost unsurpassable. The philosophy of Aristotle, the\npoetry of Theocritus, such statues as the Aphrodite of Melos and the\nVictory of Samothrace, are great lights for all time. But the works of\nmaturity have seldom the charm which marks those which are full of the\noptimism and promise of youth.\n\nRuskin has written an admirable work on the Seven Lamps of Architecture,\na work which, though it sometimes passes into extravagance, is full of\nsuggestion and even inspiration. It seems to me strange that while the\neconomic views of Ruskin, full of generosity, but also wanting in\nmeasure and any basis of fact, should still be current among us, his\nwritings on art, in which his genius had full course, should be\ncomparatively neglected. However that may be, as one who has been\ngreatly stimulated by those writings, I propose to try to produce a\nfaint echo of one of them by speaking successively of the lamps of Greek\nart, lamps which give us light and serve to show our way. I find in\nGreek art eight notable features: (1) Humanism, (2) Simplicity, (3)\nBalance and Measure, (4) Naturalism, (5) Idealism, (6) Patience, (7)\nJoy, (8) Fellowship.\n\nAs my space is closely limited I cannot attempt to develop the subject\nof Greek art in all its provinces and in all its bearings. I must limit\nmyself to the art of sculpture, the most characteristic branch, and the\nonly branch which has left us sufficient materials for the formation of\na satisfactory notion. And I must limit myself further to such of the\nsculpture as represents the human form. In the representation of some\nanimals, such as the horse, the later Greeks produced some wonderful\nexamples, but in the depiction of animals other peoples have rivalled\nthem, whereas in the depiction of men and women they stand alone.\n\n\nI\n\n_Humanism._ Three great discoveries lay open to the awakened spirit of\nman, when he began to realize and reflect upon his surroundings. The\nfirst was the discovery of God, which was mainly the work of the\nProphets of Israel, though no doubt Greece added much on the\nintellectual side; and the religions both of Judaea and Greece were\ncarried to a higher point by Christianity. The second was the discovery\nof man himself, which was in all essentials the great work of Greek\nthinkers and writers. The third, begun in Greece, has been carried very\nmuch farther in modern times, the discovery of nature and her laws. I\nthink that reflection will show that of the three discoveries the last\nis the least important, for though it has vastly changed the habits and\nthe surroundings of mankind, and has offered him long vistas of material\nprogress, yet it has not changed his nature much, nor added greatly to\nhis happiness. We know how the delights of thought, of art, of poetry\nand music have overcome barbarism and given to multitudes a new pleasure\nin existence. But the results of scientific progress have not as yet\ndone all that we might have hoped for mankind. Every great discovery in\nphysical science has been turned, primarily, not to the welfare but to\nthe destruction of mankind. The ocean-going ship is tracked by the\nsubmarine; air-ships are used to drop bombs on defenceless cities, some\nof the most notable achievements of chemistry are poison-gases. We may\nof course hope that this is but a passing phase, and that brighter times\nare before us. But I venture to suggest that the true road to progress\ncannot be found unless we preserve the Jewish and the Greek points of\nview. We must not lose sight of the ethical and religious bearing of\nscience, and not be content with merely regarding it as a means of\nexploiting the material world. Instead of harnessing the forces of\nnature to true human ends, to happiness, we have allowed them to be used\nfor any purpose, moral or immoral, by any one who by cunning or pushing\nhas gained control of them. We have dehumanized the world, and allowed\nit to ride rough shod over human life.\n\nThe discovery of man and his capacities, then, is the great gift of\nGreece to the world. There were epics before the _Iliad_, but no epic\nfull of charm, of tragedy, of tears and laughter. There were\nphilosophers before Socrates; but they were busied in trying to find the\nphysical constituents of the world. Socrates took up the motto of Delphi\n'Know thyself', and became the progenitor of all who study the nature of\nduty and of happiness. In the same way there was much art in the world\nbefore the rise of Greece, in Egypt, in Mesopotamia, in Crete. But it\nwas not a humanist art. It represented the worship of the Gods, battles,\nand sieges, the life of the fields. But the human figures in these\nscenes were conventional: there was nothing in them to stir the finer\nfeelings, to produce a love of beauty, to raise man above the ordinary\ndaily level. The Greeks knew of earlier works of art; but they declined\nto be seduced, as the Phoenicians and Etruscans were seduced, into a\nfacile imitation of them. They realized, no doubt subconsciously rather\nthan consciously, that they were called to set forth a new and human\nart, and had in them powers which could produce it. They began a process\nwhich developed with astonishing rapidity, and which cannot cease,\nunless, as seems now not impossible, barbarism reinvades a weary world.\n\n'Man is the measure of all things' is the doctrine ascribed to\nProtagoras of Abdera, which shocked the people of Athens and is attacked\nby Plato in his more constructive mood. It is a doctrine lending itself\nto abuse, and still more to caricature; but it is really the teaching of\nSocrates no less than of Protagoras; and it has held its own from his\ntimes to those of the Utilitarians and Pragmatists. Certainly it is at\nthe basis of the Greek view of life, in which man with his feelings, his\nfaculties, and his endeavours, stands in the foreground, and all else\nappears as a vague background.\n\nIt was quite natural that as the Greek thinkers interpreted all\nexperience in relation to human powers and faculties, so the artists of\nGreece thought of all nature in terms of the human body. Thus while the\nstern monotheism of later Israel absolutely prohibited the\nrepresentation in art of any living thing, and especially of man, Greek\nartists entirely devoted themselves to such representation.\n\nThe great result of the working of the spirit of humanism in Greek art\nwas the representation of the Gods in human form. There is still\nprevalent among us a survival of the Jewish hatred of the representation\nof the divine element in the world by the mimetic art of sculpture. We\nstill repeat, day by day, the Jewish commandment, 'Thou shalt not make\nto thyself any graven image'. Now I am not going to find any fault with\nthe intense feeling of iconoclasm, which was one of the mainsprings of\nJewish religion. I have no doubt that in the development of that\nreligion, hatred and contempt for the idols of the surrounding nations\nwas of inestimable value to the race. The struggle, ever renewed,\nagainst the invasion of idolatry was necessary to the development of\nthat pure prophetic religion which it was the highest mission of the\nJewish race to set forth and propagate in the world. I would not even\nspeak against the echoes of it in the modern world. To the Moslems of\nour days, as to the ancient Jews, it appears to be a necessary corollary\nof any lofty and spiritual conception of the divine. And when we read of\nthe destruction of religious images by our Puritan ancestors we cannot\nwithhold from them an inner sympathy. The hatred of images was one side\nof the pure and passionate belief in spiritual religion which it was the\nmission of the great Reformers to revive and propagate in Europe.\n\nBut it is possible to appreciate this side of religion without being\nblind to other aspects of it. Our religion comes not only from Judaea,\nbut also from Greece. The Jewish passion for the divine righteousness\nlies at its roots. But that passion is consistent with narrowness,\nbigotry, inhumanity. For the modifications of it which come from the\nworking of the spirit of humanism we have to turn to the Hellenes, for\nthe feeling of the likeness in nature between God and man, the love of\nthe beauty of the created works of God, the joy in whatever is sweet,\nwhatever is comely, whatever is charming. The beauty and majesty of God\nappealed to the Greek, as the unapproachable transcendence of God\ninspired the Jew.\n\nSo it fell to the Greek artists to try to set forth in marble and in\nbronze the gentler and more social side of the divine nature. There is a\nsweet reasonableness in the words of Maximus of Tyre: 'The Greek custom\nis to represent the Gods by the most beautiful things on earth--pure\nmaterial, the human form, consummate art. The idea of those who make\ndivine images in human shape is quite reasonable, since the spirit of\nman is nearest of all things to God and most godlike.'\n\nThe whole history of Greek sculpture, from its rise in the sixth century\nto its decline in the third, is inspired by this desire to represent the\ndivine by the most beautiful things on earth. The sculpture of the great\nnations of the East, Egypt and Assyria, is full of figures of the Gods,\nand of scenes of worship. But these figures do not rise above the human.\nThe gods appear as conventional figures, mere ordinary men and women.\nAnd to distinguish them from mortal beings, the artists of the East\nproceed in the manner of symbolism: they make additions to the human\ntypes which are to signify the divine attributes, but do not really\nembody them. They add wings to represent the swiftness of the deity,\nwings not meant for actual flight, but only symbols of rapid motion.\nThey represent them as victoriously overthrowing wild beasts and\nmonsters, which stand for the powers of evil, ever bent on thwarting\ntheir action. In some of their most archaic works, the Greeks fall into\nthe imitation of this way. They represent Apollo flanked by two\nvanquished griffins, Artemis with wings, and holding in her hands\ncaptive lions. But their artistic sense soon revolted against such crude\nand clumsy ways of representation. They began to try to represent the\ndivine character of their deities, not by arbitrary and external\nsymbols, but by modifying the human types in the direction of the ideal.\nSometimes, indeed, in later art we find survivals of early symbolism in\nthe form of an attribute. Hermes is still winged, but the wings are\ntransferred to his cap or his boots. Zeus may still carry the\nthunderbolt, the symbol of his rule over the storm. Apollo may be still\nradiate, combining human form with the rays which proceed from the\nvisible sun.\n\nBut these are only survivals, and do not affect the process, carried on\nby artist after artist and school after school, by which the gods\nabsorbed ever more fully the qualities of the most perfect manhood.\nZeus, as father of gods and men, is an idealization of the human father,\ncombining justice and dignity with benevolence and kindness; Athena\nbecomes the embodiment of the divine reason and wisdom, perhaps the most\nfully idealized of all the forms of the gods, since this armed and\nvictorious virgin with wisdom seated on her brow had little in common\nwith the secluded and domestic women of her city of Athens. Apollo has\nnot the muscles of the trained athlete, but in his nobleness of\ncountenance and perfect symmetry of shape, he stands for all that a\nyoung man might grow towards by self-restraint and aspiration. At a\nsomewhat lower level Herakles bears the form of the wrestler, admirably\nproportioned but more powerful than even the greatest of athletes;\nHermes is the ideal runner, every muscle adapted to swift and lithe\nmovements.\n\nThus in the types of the gods which were produced when Greek art was at\nits best we have a series of supermen and superwomen who represent the\nhighest and best to which mortals can hope to attain, types embodying\nthe highest perfection of body and mind. The influence of those types\nhas gone on from century to century, never in the darkest ages wholly\nforgotten, and serving at all times to redeem human nature from foulness\nand degradation. All through the history of art they have been acting as\na raising and purifying element.\n\nIt was not until the decay of the Olympic religion in the fourth century\nthat these types fell to a lower level. The sense of beauty in the\nartist remained as keen as ever, the technique of art even improved, but\nthe religion of humanism was debased by less noble tendencies, and the\ngods took on too much not the nature of man as he might become, but the\nform of man as he actually is in the world.\n\nNot the forms only of the gods, but the history of their appearances on\nearth and their dealings with mankind found expression in painting and\nrelief. Plato, as we know, condemned the myths of the gods as unworthy\nfrom the ethical point of view. But we shall misjudge myths if we\nsuppose that they were actually believed in, or served to regulate\nconduct. What they did was greatly to further the picturesqueness and\njoy of life. And when they became less important in cultus they survived\nin poetry, and served greatly to temper the harsh prose of actual life.\nWe must remember that some of the Jewish tales which have so much\ninterested and charmed our forefathers are hardly to be defended on\nstrict ethical principles, yet they have been a leavening and widening\ninfluence. Who would wish to expel from churches the stories of Adam and\nEve, of Joseph and David, on grounds of ethical purism? The life of the\nmany is not so highly decorated that we should wish to expel from it\nelements so pleasing.\n\nAs the Gods tend more and more to take forms beautiful but entirely\nhuman, so do the notable features of the landscape, rivers and\nmountains, sky and sea, take on themselves human shape. Sun and moon,\nwind and storm, are completely humanized. The society of Olympus, the\npowers manifested in nature, appear in sculpture as a human society, but\nof more than human beauty and dignity. And such rendering of the gods\nleads, as we shall presently see, to an ideal rendering of men. As the\ngods come down in the likeness of men, so men are raised to the level of\nthe gods. Hence the intrinsic and inexhaustible idealism of Greek\nsculpture, to which I will presently return.\n\nFew works of art more fully and more attractively show the\nanthropomorphic tendency of Greek art than the sunrise vase of the\nBritish Museum. It shows us the whole morning pageant of nature\nhumanized. On the right appears the sun-god driving a chariot of winged\nhorses, who rise out of the sea. Before him the stars, represented as\nyouths, plunge into the water. To the left is the moon-goddess on\nhorseback, setting behind the hills, on one of which is a mountain-god\nin an attitude of surprise. Before the sun hurries Eos, the winged dawn,\nwho by a bold citation of mythology is represented as pursuing Cephalus\nthe hunter, of whom she was enamoured. We have the features of the\ndaybreak; but they are all represented not as facts of nature, but in\ntheir influence on Gods and men.\n\nI do not figure this vase, as I have already done so in my _Principles\nof Greek Art_; but instead I give an almost equally beautiful\nrepresentation from the lid of a toilet vase in the Sabouroff Collection\nat Berlin. We have here the same three figures of the sun-god, the\nmoon-goddess, and the winged dawn, who, however, in this case is driving\na chariot. The form of the whole group and the radiate symbol in the\nmidst stands admirably for the vault of heaven (Fig. 1).\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 1. VASE REPRESENTING SUNRISE]\n\nAnother extreme example of anthropomorphism is the embodiment of the\nsustaining power of the pillar in the so-called Caryatids of the\nErechtheum (Fig. 2). Really they are Corae, maidens dedicated to Athena,\nand willingly in her service bearing up the weight of the architrave of\nher temple. Possibly the notion is not wholly satisfactory; but if it be\ntolerated, could it have been more nobly carried out? The square and\nstalwart form of the women, the mass of hair which strengthens their\nnecks, the easy pose, all make us feel that the task is not beyond their\nstrength or oppressive.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 2. CARYATID of Erechtheum]\n\nBeside the Greek Caryatid I must be allowed to place a modern version,\nby Rodin. For the power and the technique of Rodin I have great\nadmiration; but when his works are placed beside those of Greece, we\nfeel at once their inferiority in dignity, in simplicity, in ideality\n(Fig. 3).\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 3. CARYATID by Rodin]\n\n\nII\n\nThe second lamp of Greek art is _Simplicity_. The artist sees quite\nclearly what he desires to produce, and sets about producing it without\nhesitation, without self-consciousness, with no beating about the bush.\nOf course the more primitive and less conventional a society is, the\neasier it is for artists to be simple. In a complicated society\nsimplicity and directness are apt to be confused with what is\ncommonplace or even with the foolish. The simplicity of Wordsworth and\nof Tennyson does sometimes cross the line. The Greeks had the great\nadvantage of coming before other cultivated peoples, so that there was\nno commonplace to avoid. They could be simple, as the wild rose and the\nprimrose are simple. What could be more simple than the _Iliad_? The\nsame simplicity marks Greek sculpture. It requires no great exercise of\nthe intellect to understand it. It presents every figure in a clear and\nunsophisticated way.\n\nAs there is no more sure sign of a fine nature than the absence of\nself-consciousness, so there is no more sure sign of greatness in art\nthan simplicity. The Greeks did not strive to be original, to make\npeople stare, to do the unusual. One of the most usual subjects in Greek\nrelief is a battle between male warriors and Amazons. Such battles adorn\nmany temples. And in every case they are distinctive in style. One could\nnot mistake a group from the temple at Phigaleia for a group from the\nMausoleum. And there is no sameness: almost every group has some point\nor touch of its own, which makes it a variety on the usual theme. One\nAmazon is falling from her horse, one is asking for quarter, one is\nfollowing up a retreating foe. But no group is insistent that the\npasser-by should look at it. The relief was the decoration of a temple;\nand if its originality drew men's attention from the temple itself, or\nfrom the Deity seated enthroned within, it might justly be accused of\nimpertinence, of exceeding due measure. The sculptor did his best; but\nhe was careful to do nothing which was out of harmony with its\nsurroundings. He sank himself in his work. And even when he was engaged\non a more serious substantive work, what he most avoided was the\nincongruous and unbecoming. He so worked that the attention of the\nspectator was concentrated not on the character of the workmanship, but\non the person or the subject portrayed. The idea which he tried to\nincorporate in marble or bronze was not his own thought about the\nsubject, but the character which really belonged to it in the mind of\nthe people.\n\nThis singleness of purpose is well illustrated by a story about the\npainter Protogenes. He painted the figure of a Satyr, and beside it, as\na trifle, he inserted a partridge. But when he found that admiration for\nthe lifelikeness of the partridge tended to distract the attention of\nvisitors from the main figure, he painted it out.\n\nNo doubt simplicity implies limitation. It is not easy in any age to\nstrike the deepest note without some surrender of simplicity. The higher\nphases of the mental and spiritual life, mysticism, symbolism, and the\nlike are not to be expressed with complete simplicity in any form of\nart. One cannot deny that the Greek view of life was limited; that the\nGreeks did not attempt to represent in art the highest aspirations of\nthe soul. It was an entirely perverted ingenuity which sought a\ngeneration ago to find mystic meaning in the representations on Greek\nvases. Attempts to portray the Deities of the Mysteries scarcely count\nas works of art. Such figures as Sabazius, Isis, Mithras, only come into\nancient art in its decadence. I would not maintain that the modern\nworld, with its infinitely varied emotions, or the higher aspirations of\nreligions like the Christian or the Buddhist, could be satisfied with\nsuch simple schemes as those of Greek sculpture, which appeal to human\ninstinct and human intelligence rather than to the more recondite\nemotions. Such emotions, however, in my opinion, do not find any\nappropriate embodiment in the arts of which I am treating--the graphic\nand plastic arts. In poetry they have at all times found a noble\nexpression; and in modern days a perhaps still completer expression in\nmusic, which was in pre-Christian days in a very rudimentary condition.\nBut painting is but ill suited to the rendering of these vague\naspirations. And still more unsuited is sculpture, the most imitative\nand objective of all the arts. The attempts which have been made in\nrecent years by some sculptors to give a mystic turn to their art seems\nto me doomed to failure by the essential nature of sculpture. A Western\nmind can have little sympathy with the art which has moved most on\nmystic lines, the art of India, which in such efforts has abandoned the\nsearch for beauty, and so given up the really artistic point of view.\nMere prettiness no doubt is an unsatisfying ideal: but a loftier beauty,\nin harmony with the world around us and the soul within us, is another\nthing.\n\nIn order that simplicity may be in the highest degree admirable, it must\nbe combined with two other qualities--intense love of beauty, and the\nutmost patience in execution. It must not lead on the one side to a mere\nunideal copy of nature, nor on the other to a hasty and slovenly kind of\nwork.\n\nThe figure already mentioned, the Caryatid of the Erechtheum, is a model\nof perfect simplicity. For further illustration of the quality I have\nchosen the bronze charioteer from Delphi, and the Artemis from Gabii,\nnow in the Louvre. The former (Fig. 4) is a youth of noble family, clad\nin the long dress necessary to protect from the wind a man driving a\nchariot. The latter (Fig. 5), a work of the school of Praxiteles,\nrepresents a young girl fastening her dress on her shoulder. Both are as\nfree as they can be from any attempt at novelty or originality: yet no\none with any taste could for a moment hesitate to pronounce them\nadmirable. The object of the artist was to make works as perfect as\npossible. And to that end he goes straight, without any complication,\nand without the least care that others may have done similar works,\nagainst which he must assert originality.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 4\nCHARIOTEER of Delphi]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 5\nARTEMIS of Gabii]\n\nBeside the two figures I have cited I place a more modern group (Fig.\n6), also by a man of genius, Peter Vischer. It has the same simplicity\nand the same care in execution as the Greek works, but in beauty it will\nnot compare with them; and one feels regret that so great an artist\nshould have spent his powers on so unsuitable a subject as the rivets\nand plates of a suit of armour. The lady, though not without charm,\nseems artificial and affected beside the exquisite freshness of the girl\nof Praxiteles.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 6. KNIGHT AND LADY\nBy Peter Vischer]\n\n\nIII\n\nThe third lamp of Greek art is _Balance and Measure_, the recognition of\nlimit and law. This is most obvious in architecture, and especially in\nits most characteristic production, the temple. The form of the temple,\nwhen once established, remained fixed, within certain limits of\nvariation, for all time. A most accomplished writer, M. Boutmy, has\nadmirably shown how all the constituent parts of the temple are related\none to the other, how a plan, a consistent rhythm, runs throughout it.\nEach part has a definite function, which it accomplishes in the simplest\nand clearest way. The pillars are made simply to support, and their\nshape and slight decoration is in accordance with that purpose. Their\nform ensures a maximum of stability. The channeling or fluting carries\nthe eye of the spectator upwards to the capital which swells outwards to\nsupport the heavy straight line of the cornice. Above the cornice, the\ngrooves of the triglyphs carry on the lines of fluting from the columns\ntowards the roof. The walls of the temple are not primarily intended to\nsupport, but to enclose the sacred cella, and are adorned only at their\nupper edge, as a curtain might be, with a decorative frieze. The whole\nbuilding is thought out as a home for the statue of the deity which it\nencloses; and no part is allowed to adorn itself except in subordination\nto this general purpose. Like the shells of molluscs or the hives of\nbees, it is the direct embodiment of an idea, a purpose, only a\nconscious and reflective, not a merely instinctive purpose.\n\nThe sculptural decoration, which is so striking a feature of the temple,\nis also carefully subordinated to purpose and idea. No part of the\nstructure which bears a strain, if we except one or two early and\nunsatisfactory experiments, was decorated. The business of column and\narchitrave was to bear weight; and if they were ornate they would seem\nless well adapted to that purpose. Only in parts of the building which\nwere from the point of view of construction otiose, such as pediment and\nmetope, was the art of the sculptor allowed to play; and even then it\nwas bound to play appropriately to the nature of the deity within and\nthe festivals of which the temple was to be the focus. There was no room\nfor cross-purposes or disturbing thoughts.\n\nThis rigidity of form and subordination to reason is as characteristic\nof Attic tragedies as of temples. It would indeed be possible to work\nout a close parallel between the two forms of art. But we must return to\nour immediate subject, sculpture. Temple sculpture exhibits the\nqualities of balance and measure in the highest degree. In case of the\npediment there is a central point, just under the apex, where the\ndominant figures of the scene portrayed are placed; and on either side\nof this central figure or group, figure balances figure, until we come\nto the corners, which are occupied by reclining forms, dying warriors,\nor river-gods or spectators. In case of the metope, the square field is\nfilled with two or three figures balanced about a central line, a scheme\nself-contained and harmonious, which may be compared to a geometrical\ndiagram, and carries simplicity to the farthest point.\n\nRhythm, balance, symmetry are the translation into sculpture of the\nspirit of discipline and self-control, which the Greeks learned by hard\nnecessity. The civilization of the Ionians in Asia is a brilliant\nsunrise, an overflowing of the delight in life, in beauty, in the\nexercise of all the faculties, which for a time dominated Greece itself.\nAnd their art was joyous and free. The artists of Ionia invaded Athens\nin the sixth century, visiting the luxurious court of Peisistratus, and\ninspiring Peloponnesus, even Sparta, as the excavations of the British\nSchool in Athens have abundantly shown. But the Ionians were trodden\ndown under the heavy foot of Persia: excess of freedom and want of\ncohesion and discipline was their ruin. The Great King of Persia was\ndetermined to trample in a like manner on Greece Proper; and he would\nhave succeeded but for the discipline and devotion of the Dorians. It\nwas the Spartans, aided by the brilliant military talent of Miltiades\nand Themistocles, who saved Greece from slavery. A military caste, like\nthe Templars and Hospitallers of mediaeval Europe, they furnished the\nbackbone of the Greek army and dispersed the hordes of Asia as easily as\ndid the hardy Macedonians of Alexander the Great a century and a half\nlater.\n\nThe Athenians, with their quick wits, understood whence came their\nsalvation, and in the early part of the fifth century the tide of Ionian\ninfluence was turned back, and Dorian manners, Dorian dress, Dorian art,\nbecame dominant from Thessaly to Laconia. It is precisely the Dorian\nideas of discipline, of measure, of self-control, which entering into\nthe art of Greece made it a noble and continuous development, instead of\na mere brilliant flash. Plato was well aware of the dangers which beset\nthe Athenians from their extreme versatility and want of reverence, and\nhe foresaw how these qualities would in the end destroy the civilization\nwhich they had adorned. He so clearly saw this that he was inclined to\nprefer the conventional and monotonous art of Egypt to the brilliant\nGreek art of his own time. This is, of course, to carry ethical\nprejudice to the length of fanaticism, and to transgress the very law of\nmoderation which inspired him. But it was only in his old age that he\nwent thus far.\n\nThis careful balance and proportion may be observed, as has often been\npointed out, in the designs of Greek vases, where the painted subject\nnot only is in itself a balanced scheme, but is also planned in relation\nto the shape of the vases themselves. A group suitable to an amphora\nwould look out of place on a drinking cup. And in the cup itself the\noutside requires a different treatment from the inside. The whole is\nplanned not merely to give free scope to the artist, but to be\nappropriate, fitting, harmonious. Our first figure well illustrates this\nthesis.\n\nEven in the case of substantive sculpture, figures or groups made to\nstand by themselves in market-place or portico, the Greek love of\nharmony, or as they would have put it, of rhythm and symmetry prevails:\nancient critics in those accounts of Greek sculpture, of which fragments\nhave come down to us in the writings of Pliny and Quintilian, lay great\nstress on these features. They show us that whereas in early art a\nmerely external and mechanical balance had prevailed, in the course of\nthe fifth century this love of order and measure was taken into the very\nbeing of art. Pythagoras of Rhegium, whose works are unfortunately lost\nto us, made great progress in rhythm and symmetry. His contemporaries,\nMyron and Polycleitus, who carried the athletic art of Peloponnesus\nalmost to its highest point, were celebrated, Myron for the rhythm in\nmotion which he infused into his sculpture, Polycleitus for the careful\nbalance of his athletes and the system of proportion which he embodied\nin their figures. Pheidias was more essentially ideal than either of\nthese, as we shall presently see, but he also most diligently preserved\nin the Parthenon and other works a spirit of measure and reasonableness.\n\nMeasure and balance in art differ widely from mere convention. 'Order is\nHeaven's first law.' All fine character is formed, not by following\nrandom impulses as they arise, but by making them conform to reason and\nduty, disciplining them as wild horses are disciplined and taught to\nserve mankind. Horses indeed may be over-disciplined, and by cruelty all\nspirit may be taken out of them. And men may be over-disciplined, so\nthat their impulses die away from inanition. The Spartans were\nover-disciplined; and through constant repression of natural tendencies\nthey became mere machines, and before long died out. But reasonable\nrestraint imposed on strong natural tendencies produces noble results in\nall spheres of activity.\n\nThe same thing is true in art. Measure and discipline do not of course\nmake it easier to produce works of art; for in the nature of the case\ndiscipline is at first grievous and is felt as a barrier. But for the\nproduction of good and lasting works of art, discipline and law are\nnecessary. Take as an example the art which is simplest, poetry. It is\neasier to write blank verse than to write sonnets. But it is far easier\nto write _good_ sonnets than good blank verse, simply because the\nconstant restraint of the form stimulates thought and invention,\nprevents too great haste, exercises the ingenuity. In the same way the\nsomewhat rigid laws of composition of pediment metope and frieze\ncompelled the Greek artist to think out schemes suitable to those forms.\n\nIt would not be possible to find a better example of order and balance\nin reliefs than is furnished by the magnificent sarcophagus from Sidon\n(Fig. 7), on one side of which is represented one of the victories of\nAlexander the Great. At first sight it may seem a confused m\u00eal\u00e9e. But\nwhen we look closer we see careful arrangement underlying the apparent\ndisorder. Alexander, charging from the left, is balanced by Parmenio\ncharging from the right: the horseman in the middle between the leaders\nseems to come out of the background; and on either side of him is a\nfighting group, to the left a Macedonian foot soldier fighting a Persian\non foot, to the right a light-armed Greek resisting a Persian horseman.\nTwo Persian archers balance one another. There are in the scene five\nGreeks to eight Persians, indicating the numerical superiority of the\nlatter. And if we knew more about the battle we should probably find its\nprincipal phases hinted at in the groups. The relief tells us far more\nabout the battle than would a naturalistic representation of one corner\nof the field. The Greek artist could not work without using his reason\nand his sense of order as well as his skilled hand.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 7. SARCOPHAGUS FROM SIDON]\n\n\nIV\n\nThe fourth notable quality of Greek art is _Naturalism_. Painting and\nsculpture, being representative or mimetic arts, are dependent for their\neffects on the careful observation and loving study of nature. Probably\nthis is not the feature in works of Greek sculpture which would be most\nconspicuous to a modern eye. And it cannot be doubted that the habit of\nexact observation produced by modern nature studies, our familiarity\nwith such helps to sight as telescopes and magnifying glasses, our\nconstant use of photography, have made most of us better acquainted with\nthe phenomena of the world about us than were the Greeks. But compared\nwith the works of preceding ages, Greek sculpture must have seemed\namazingly naturalist. Even works of the archaic period, like the\npediments from Aegina, show a knowledge of the human form infinitely\nmore accurate than any to be found in Assyrian palaces or Egyptian\ntemples. There is probably always a good deal of illusion in the minds\nof the schools which are constantly springing up, which profess to break\naway from all conventions and to go back to nature herself. To reach\nnature except through human senses and human combinations is quite\nimpossible. And any artist who determines to give us nature merely as\nthe photographic plate or the mechanical cast gives it to us simply\nwastes his powers, and produces a result of no interest whatever to any\none. According to Pliny Lysippus professed to take nature alone for his\nteacher; but in fact the works of Lysippus, so far as we can recover or\ntrace them, are full of most definite style. An artist has to look at\nnature through his own eyes, and those eyes give to what he sees a\ncharacter based in part on his own personality. Everything he sees is\nrefracted in the waters of his subjectivity, from which he cannot\nescape.\n\nNevertheless, the whole historic course of Greek sculpture is steeped in\nthe study of nature; and we see as it proceeds more and more clearly the\nresults of careful observation. The artist had in fact opportunities for\nthe study of what he considered the one important group of phenomena,\nhuman bodies, such as a modern artist cannot hope to compass. In the\nbaths and gymnasia where all young men of free birth spent part of their\nmornings in running, leaping, wrestling, or swimming, he could daily\nwatch the beautiful bodies of athletes in every variety of pose and\naction. He knew them as a trainer knows horses, or a fancier knows dogs.\nHe would have little need of a special model; but would daily observe\nsome fresh detail of muscles, some notable pose which he could add from\nmemory to his conception of the human body.\n\nBut in the greatest periods of art naturalism is not predominant. Its\nconstantly working tendency is kept in check by noble ideas and noble\nstyle. There is in the development of sculpture a constant approach to\nnature, but nothing of the nihilism which looks on all aspects of nature\nas equally fit subjects for art. The artists of the pediments of Aegina\ncould not bring themselves to conceal the beautiful bodies of the\nfighting warriors by rigid armour like that copied in Vischer's group.\nThus we find the paradox of armed men in battle, but without armour. The\nutmost pains are taken with the nude limbs. In the wonderful bronze\ncharioteer found at Delphi (Fig. 4), which dates from about 470 B. C.,\nthe garment necessary to protect the man from the rush of air is very\nsimply treated; but the arms and feet, which the garment does not\nconceal, are wrought with marvellous accuracy and truth to nature. It\nseems almost as if the artist were compensating himself for the\nextremely simple work on the drapery by an almost excessively close\nstudy of nature where it was possible. The head, on the other hand, is\ntypical and not individual; for in fact individual portraits were\nscarcely possible at the time.\n\nThis would be the place to speak of Greek portraits, if space allowed\nit. I will only point out the erroneousness of the popular view, that\nGreek portraits were conventional and uninteresting; and that it was the\nRomans who introduced individuality into portraiture. It is strange that\na view which is utterly false should have gained such currency. It is\ntrue that Greek portraits of the fifth and even the fourth century have\nin them much of the type, and individual traits are softened in accord\nwith the strongly idealizing tendencies of the age. But from the third\nand second centuries we have a great number of portraits which are in\nthe highest degree characteristic and individual, a wonderful gallery of\nphilosophers and poets and statesmen which for lifelikeness cannot be\nsurpassed. All the finest of the portraits of Romans were by Greek\nartists. I can give but one example of really fine Greek portraiture, a\nstatue of Demosthenes of the third century B. C. (Fig. 8). It is a\nportrait indeed. The long lean arms and the pose are quite as individual\nand characteristic as the face with its melancholy expression and deep\nlines of anxiety. We have the man from head to foot; not as is so often\nthe case in modern statues, a portrait head set on a conventional body.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 8. DEMOSTHENES\nBy Polyeuctus]\n\nFor comparison with Demosthenes I set a statue of a great modern\nstatesman, Abraham Lincoln, by Barnard (Fig. 9), not the best statue of\nhim, but one which is approved by many. It aims at truth, but only\nattains caricature, by exaggerating Lincoln's awkwardness and\nangularity, the size of his hands and feet, and the anxiety in his face.\nThis exaggeration has been proved by a comparison with many photographs\nof Lincoln, which show that he was careful in dress and by no means\nwanting in dignity. The statue of Demosthenes is marvellous for truth;\nbut it adds a touch of pathos; the statue of Lincoln misses the truth,\nthrough exaggerating the least pleasing features of the subject.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 9. ABRAHAM LINCOLN\nBy Barnard]\n\nWhen we want to ascertain how close Greek sculpture could come to actual\nfact, we turn from the great ideal age to the Hellenistic period.\nLysistratus, the brother of Lysippus, began to take moulds in plaster\nfrom individual faces. At the great medical school of Alexandria the\nanatomy of the human frame, from which earlier ages in a spirit of piety\nhad shrunk, became usual: some of the great physicians, such as\nHerophilus and Erasistratus, being noted for the completeness of their\nstudy of anatomy. In the art of the third century B. C. we see the\ninevitable result of such studies in a more precise and learned\nrendering of the muscles and the skin. And artists no longer hesitated\nto represent bodies wasted with toil and exposure to the weather, or\nemaciated with fasting. There are many such figures in our museums,\nshowing a marvellously close study of the forms of peasants and old\nwomen and children. I figure one of these, preserved in the museum of\nthe Conservatori of the Capitol at Rome, an aged shepherdess carrying a\nlamb (Fig. 10). But it will be observed that close as this form is to\nthe facts of common life, there is yet in it nothing repulsive. It is in\na sense a type rather than an individual, a poem of nature rather\nthan a portrait. It is parallel to the pastorals of Theocritus. It\nstrongly contrasts with such loathsome figures as some modern sculptors\nin their exaggerated love of fact, even if repulsive, have inflicted\nupon us, such as the Vieille H\u00e9aulmi\u00e8re of Rodin (Fig. 11), a figure of\nan aged and decayed prostitute. I know, of course, that some critics\nwould defend the last-mentioned work on ethical grounds, as showing how\nhideous the decay of sensual beauty may become; but I venture to doubt\nwhether sculpture is an appropriate vehicle for a moral lesson of that\nkind, because it can only represent and cannot explain.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 10\nAGED SHEPHERDESS\nAlexandrian]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 11\nLA VIEILLE H\u00c9AULMI\u00c8RE\nBy Rodin]\n\n\nV\n\nSo we come to the fifth lamp of Greek art, _Ideality_. It is in the\nidealism of their rendering of the body of man that the Greeks have\nsurpassed all other peoples and left an imperishable record. The history\nof Greek art is the history of a search for beauty, for poetry, for\nwhatever can charm and delight.\n\nIn the earliest sculptural works of Greece, as Lange the Dane was the\nfirst to point out, we find not a direct imitation of the facts of the\nvisible world, but impressions taken from that world, stored in the\nmemory, and put together in accordance with subjective purpose rather\nthan objective law. It is indeed thus that clever children work, when in\nthe picture-writing of their sketch books they violate the laws of\nperspective by combining separate aspects and memories of an object into\nan inconsistent whole. They will not omit any peculiarity of a person\nwhich happens to have struck them, even when in the profile which they\nsketch it would be invisible. They think of a face as turned towards\nthem, of legs as walking past them. Every face must have two eyes, every\nbody two arms, whether they would be visible under the natural\nconditions or not. In early Greek reliefs it is common to find the body\ndown to the waist full-face, the body below the waist in profile, with\nno transition between the two. The well-known metopes from Selinus in\nSicily are good examples. It is a kind of procedure common to the early\nart of all peoples. But the Greeks differ from other nations in this;\nthat when they improved away these early crudities they retained the\npredominance of thought over things, of man over nature, in a word of\nthe ideal element in art. They regarded the body of man not, as the\nmaterialists do, as man himself, but as a shell produced by the inner\nworking of the spirit, to be seen by the eyes of thought and\nimagination, as well as by the bodily eyes. Hence they were always\naspiring from that which exists in appearance to that which lies behind\nthe mere phenomenon. They realized that nature, when she produces an\nindividual, never wholly succeeds, she falls short of the idea. And the\nartist by a loving sympathy with the creative Spirit, may venture to\nimprove what she has made, to carry out her intentions more fully, to\nincorporate more completely the idea. The Greek artist, appreciating and\nvenerating the body, tries to raise it to a higher and more perfect\nlevel. A simple kind of idealism may be found in athletic art. In their\npractice of athletics the Greeks did not, like the moderns, think only\nof the number of feet an athlete could leap, or the space of time he\nwould take to run a distance. They thought also of his _form_, of the\nrhythmic and harmonious character of his action. If an athlete showed\nugly form, they would hiss him, as they would an incompetent actor. Most\nof their exercises were done to the accompaniment of the flute. In all\nthe statues of athletes which have come down to us, not one shows an\ninharmonious development, powerful chest and weak legs, or muscular legs\nand poor arms. It is more than probable that as the features of\nAlexander the Great influenced the portraits of his officers and\nfollowers, so the specially beautiful forms of some of the athletes who\nwere most admired, tended to create a type, something of which appears\nin all the athlete figures of the time.\n\nNo doubt any one who is well acquainted with Greek types and with the\nforms of modern athletes will observe that the Greek physical build is\nnot identical with that of our days. The equable climate and the\nunstrained life of the young men produced something more rounded and\nfleshy than we see in the north. Our athletes are less harmoniously\nbuilt, with more prominent sinews, more harsh and wiry in type. An\nAmerican trainer who is also a sculptor, Dr. Tait McKenzie, working as\nsome of the Greek sculptors worked, from the average measurements of a\nnumber of young men, has produced types of strength and beauty, by no\nmeans exactly like the statues of Greece, but in their way almost\nequally beautiful. I instance the beautiful fifth-century figures of\nGreek boxers, softened by idealism, but admirable for strength and\nsymmetry; and the Apoxyomenos, a man scraping himself with a strigil, as\nwas the custom in the baths (Fig. 12). This is a work of the third\ncentury, after the artists had imported their knowledge of anatomy into\ntheir works, which had effects both good and bad. And beside the\nApoxyomenos I place an athlete by Tait McKenzie, produced from the\ncareful comparison and measurements of hundreds of young athletes of\nHarvard and Philadelphia (Fig. 13). This is a work of modern idealism\nproduced by similar processes to those to which we owe the excellence of\nGreek athletic sculpture.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 12\nATHLETE WITH STRIGIL]\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 13\nATHLETE, by Tait McKenzie]\n\nThe types of female beauty come into Greek sculpture later than the\ntypes of male beauty. In Ionian and early Attic sculpture women appear\nclosely wrapped up in drapery. Pheidias and his contemporaries did not\nventure to represent undraped women. They showed the beauties of the\nfemale form not apart from, but by the help of, drapery. It was reserved\nfor the age of Praxiteles and Scopas to represent the Goddess of Love in\nthe guise of a nude woman; and Praxiteles made an apology for the\ninnovation by introducing the motive of bathing as an explanation and a\npalliation. And even the Aphrodite of Praxiteles is remarkably free\nfrom all attempt at sensuous attraction, or self-consciousness. Solid,\nnoble, and stately in form, she is a type or model rather than an\nindividual. Later sculptors, it is true, departed from this line of\nsimple harmoniousness, and tried to make the figure more attractive to\nthe average man. But it does not become weak, and it does not become\nvulgar. The noble Aphrodites of the fourth century have fixed the type\nof female beauty in school after school of artists down to our own time.\n\nThis ideal is perhaps for us best incorporated in the Aphrodite of Melos\nin the Louvre, a work of the Hellenistic age, combining with the great\nfourth-century tradition a perfection of detail and an informing life\nwhich belong to a later time. But while most people of taste profess a\ndevotion to her, that devotion is usually untinged by knowledge or real\nappreciation; for there could hardly be a greater contrast than that\nbetween the bodily forms of the Goddess of Melos and those of the women\nwho are most admired in our days. I was almost disposed to figure side\nby side the Goddess and the bodily forms which figure in our fashion\nplates. The fashion plates do not represent women as they are, but as\nthey would like to be; they represent not the actual, but the modern\nideal. And what an ideal!\n\nSome readers may smile at the notion of taking seriously these ephemeral\nproductions. But no one would take them lightly who was familiar with\nthe facts of psychology. We well know that when certain types of women\nare set constantly before the rising generation as beautiful and to be\nimitated they will necessarily exercise a great influence on the future\nof the race. Young men will look out for such types to admire and to\ncourt: young women will try to resemble them. The hideous mistake in\naesthetics will exercise a constant dragging power, pulling the young\naway from the light and the air of heaven towards the caves of evil\nspirits.\n\nFew more charming representations of young womanhood in Greece exist\nthan the Artemis from Gabii already cited (Fig. 5). One must confess\nthat the divine element in it is but slight. But what could be fresher,\nsimpler, more exquisitely natural?\n\nNo doubt as in the case of men, so in the case of women, we must make\nallowance for race and climate. A full and rotund development of\nphysique is far rarer in northern than in southern Europe. The English\nrace is taller, less solidly built, slighter than the ancient Greek.\nAmong us hard tendons usually take the place of solid muscles. And the\npractise of athletic games by women undoubtedly tends to make them in\nsome respects conform more to the male type. In moderation physical\nexercises may improve health and strength without tending to deprive the\nvital organs of nourishment. But the overtrained woman is farther from\nthe healthy life of nature than the overtrained man. And whether the\noverexertion be of the body or of the intelligence, it tends to destroy\ntrue womanliness.\n\nIt is a pity that some sculptor does not do for the ideal of womanhood\nwhat Dr. Tait McKenzie has done for the ideal of athletic manhood. Of\ncourse the process would not be the same. No one wants an ideal type of\nthe female athlete, unless we wish to restore the race of Amazons, but\nwe do sorely need to have before our eyes types which embody the\nphysical ideal of efficient womanhood. At present while nude womanhood\nin art conforms in a great measure to the Greek tradition, clothed\nwomanhood follows the types of the street, modified by the baseless\ncaprices of fashion. The two stand in unreconciled contrast. The Greeks\nwhen painting women on a vase often drew their figures in outline before\nthey added clothes. But any one who tries to draw the outline of the\nfemale figure beneath the clothes on a fashion-plate will stand aghast\nat what he has produced.\n\nCicero repeats an instructive story in regard to the painter Zeuxis, who\nlived about 400 B. C. He was commissioned to make for the people of\nCroton a painting of Helen of Troy. He first inquired, what seems to\nhave been a matter of common knowledge, who were the most beautifully\nmade young men in that city, which was noted for its athletes. He next\nasked that he should be allowed to study the forms of the sisters of\nthese men, judging that the sisters must partake of the beauty of the\nbrothers. Out of these he selected five girls for more continued study,\nand by such aid produced his picture. We cannot suppose that he would be\nso clumsy as to select at random beautiful details from each of the\nfive; in that way he would produce only an eclectic monstrosity. But,\nworking in the presence of beautiful examples, his sense of beauty would\nrise in tone to the highest of which he was capable.\n\nIn this story several points are noteworthy. It shows that the type of\nbeauty in men was more advanced and more generally recognized than the\ntype of beauty in women. And it shows the Greek artistic mind ever on\nthe watch to catch some new note of beauty to add to the traditional\nstock. Professor Br\u00fccke, in his excellent work on the beauties of the\nhuman form, observes that in the ideal statues of Greece many features\nmay be discovered which in the actual world of men and women are very\nrare, but the charm of which can scarcely be disputed. There went on\nfrom school to school, and from period to period, a sort of accumulation\nof beauty which was ever increasing. Every beautiful model which was\nstudied added something to what Br\u00fccke calls the stock of beauty at the\ndisposal of artists.\n\n\nVI\n\nThe sixth lamp of Greek art is _Patience_ in striving after perfection.\nIn the finer work of Greek sculptors one finds an utterly ungrudging\nexpenditure of time and care which reminds one of the working of\nNature herself, Nature who is never in a hurry, who is never contented\nwith a hasty sketch, but works regardless of time. We are told of\nProtogenes that he spent seven years on a single figure, and I think he\nwould have spent seven more if he had thought that he could thereby have\nimproved his painting. Nothing strikes one more strongly in such works\nas the charioteer of Delphi and the Hermes of Praxiteles than the pains\ntaken with every detail. It is by careful work, continued through\nsuccessive generations, that sculpture attained such mastery in the\nrepresentation of the muscles of the body as we find in the Borghese\nfighting figure of the Louvre, and such delicacy in the rendering of\ndrapery as we find in the Victories of the Balustrade at Athens, or the\nVictory of Samothrace.\n\nBut the delicacy and minuteness of Greek work is of course most obvious\nin the reliefs of coins and in gems. The coins were not primarily meant\nto please the eye, but to circulate in the fish-market; yet a multitude\nof the dies are so exquisitely finished that they lose little when\nmagnified to many diameters, and will bear the most critical\nexamination. The intaglio gems were meant for the sealing of documents,\nthe seal taking the place of the modern signature; but the figures upon\nseals are in their way as finished as great works of sculpture. Seals\neven more usually than coins gain rather than lose if they are enlarged.\nYet they were executed without the help of magnifying glasses. Their\nsubjects are taken from the widest field, the figures of deities, tales\nfrom mythology, portraits, animal forms; like the coins they introduced\nas an undercurrent to the prosaic life of every day an element of poetry\nand imagination.\n\n\nVII\n\nThe seventh lamp, which goes as naturally with idealism as care and\npatience go with naturalism, is joy, _joie de vivre_. Keats has\nexpressed the Greek sense of art in an immortal line, 'A thing of beauty\nis a joy for ever'. It was the overflowing gladness which lies at the\nroot of creation and evolution which took eternal form in the painting\nand sculpture of the Greeks and inspired all their works. The same\nirrepressible joy which gives colour to the flowers, sweetness to the\nfruit, song to the birds, and sexual desire to mankind reached here one\nof its most perfect manifestations. The life of the Greeks was by no\nmeans one of unmixed happiness. Each city was not unfrequently at war\nwith its neighbours; and the penalty of complete defeat was sometimes\nthe razing of its walls, the slaughter of its men, and the enslavement\nof its women. Disease, even plague, constantly ravaged the land; and the\nresources of modern surgery and modern anaesthetics were not present to\ncurb their ravages. The life of the majority in country huts, and still\nmore in the slums of the cities, most of all in the mines, was rougher\nand more sordid than is the case in the modern world, in countries in\ntheir normal state. And the people had not even that hope of a blessed\nhereafter which sustained the people of the Middle Ages. Yet under all\nthese clouds, their spirit was hopeful and aspiring. And their art\nreflects ever the brighter side of things. Surely they were wise and\nright. We seek out works of art not to foster pessimism but to inspire\noptimism, not to show us the world of nature on its repulsive side, but\nto reveal to us how much underlying beauty is to be found in it. ''Tis\nlife not death for which we pant, More life and fuller that we want.'\n\nAt the same time, Greek art in some forms was extremely serious and\nkeenly alive to the darker side of existence. The Greeks invented\ntragedy, the poetical reflection of the severity of fate. Would any\nmodern audience be found, which would be prepared to sit for a whole\nsummer day listening eagerly to the grand expression by such poets as\nAeschylus and Sophocles of the power of Nemesis, the instability of all\nprosperity, the misfortunes which hunt those who have the ill luck to\ndisplease the gods? Surely not. And not in Greek tragedy only, but in\nelegiac poetry and in epigram, we find perfect reflections of our most\ngloomy moods. But for such expressions of sorrow and despair the Greeks\nfelt that sculpture, and even painting, were not suitable vehicles. They\nbelong to moods, and are not suitable for illustration in the market\nplace and the temple. The roads which led to Greek cities were\nfrequently bordered with monumental tombs. If in the reliefs and\ninscriptions of these tombs there had been any telling echo of the\nsorrow and regret of bereaved survivors, every one would have entered\nthe cities in a black mood. As it is, as every one who has been in the\nmuseums of Athens knows, the sepulchral artists carefully avoided\nanything which might harrow the feelings. They represented the dead at\ntheir best, engaged in victorious warfare, or in athletic sports or in\nthe happy family circle. A gentle air of melancholy could not be\navoided; but there was nothing to shock, nothing to oppress the spirits.\nThe deceased represented seemed still to share the occupations and\npleasures of the living, not to be shut off from the world of happiness.\n\nMilton has expressed, in his magnificent prose, the profound joy of the\nworld of the Renaissance at the recovery of the Bible, and free liberty\nof reading it, after it had been shut away from the laity by the\norganized Church. Equally intense, and more exuberant, was the delight\nof scholars and artists, when the asceticism and pessimism of the Middle\nAges, which had given birth to such bodies as the Carmelite monks and\nthe mendicant friars, gave way before the revival of Greek literature\nand art. The world seemed suddenly to have renewed its youth. No doubt\nthe sudden expansion led to foul excesses; but it was yet a great\nlandmark in human progress.\n\n\nVIII\n\nThe eighth light of Greek art is _Fellowship_. Perhaps there is no\nquality in it which is more instructive for our days than this. The\nextreme individualism which is the most remarkable characteristic of\nmodern times lays the utmost stress on the right or the duty of an\nartist to express _himself_ in his work, to work out his own vein of\noriginality, to give to the world a rendering of his own qualities and\nindividuality. And no doubt no great artist can help doing this in a\nmeasure. When he works he must be himself; he can only see the world\nthrough the medium of his character and talents. And as every man is a\nmicrocosm, a reflection in miniature of the great world of human beings,\nwhat is really good and original in an artist must appeal to something\nin the human world; must have a meaning for people of a certain class or\na certain training, or a certain country. But whether an artist is the\nbetter for a conscious attempt thus to externalize his personality;\nwhether he is improved by being self-conscious and reflective in his art\nis a different question.\n\nScarcely any feature of Greek art is more impressive to a student than\nits continuous and uninterrupted course. When once it has started it\ndoes not turn back, but goes forward steadily, for a time rising\nsuperior to difficulty after difficulty, attaining a higher and higher\nlevel, then in the fifth century branching out in various directions\ninto styles and groups, then going on with great technical skill, but\nwith a loss of inspiration. It is a course of evolution as steady as\nthat of any kind of plant or animal. This shows that it did not depend\nupon the rise of successive men of talent or genius, each of whom was\nintent on expressing himself; but upon the rise and influence of\nsuccessive artistic schools, each of which did not merely follow the\npersonality of a founder or teacher, but stood for a phase in the\ndevelopment of the common life of the Greek people. The schools were\nIonian or Dorian, Attic or Argive, and harmonized with the whole\ncivilization of such fractions of the race. Ionian art went with the gay\nand pleasure-loving ways of the Asiatic coast. Dorian art reflected the\nrestraint, the balance, the self-control of the people of Peloponnesus.\nAttic art not only conformed to the refined taste of the people of\nAthens, but suited also the strong mental bias of the most intellectual\ncity which ever existed. Of course these schools did not flourish in\ncomplete isolation one from the other; city influenced city and artist\nartist; but in a far less degree than would be the case now. A school of\nsculpture was a species; and all the individuals of the species were\nmore like one another than they were like any of their contemporaries\noutside.\n\nThus when we examine any work of Greek sculpture, before the eclectic\nschools came into being, we find it easy to determine its period, often\nwithin narrow limits, and we are usually able to assign it with\nconfidence to a particular school, imperfect as is our knowledge of the\nhistory of Greek art. But we can scarcely ever say that it is the work\nof an individual artist, unless it stands on a basis bearing the\nauthor's name, or unless ancient critics and historians have left us\ndetailed descriptions of a work which survives. I am speaking of Greek\noriginals; the copies of earlier works made by Greek artists of a late\nperiod for Roman galleries are often so confused in style and so\ncareless in execution that they serve only to mislead, even if they have\nescaped the Italian restorer of recent date.\n\nGreat and connected series of statues and reliefs, such as constitute\nthe sculptural adornment of such temples as that of Zeus at Olympia or\nthe Parthenon or the Mausoleum, are the joint productions of a number of\nsculptors who worked together, no doubt under the general supervision of\nsome architect or chief mason, but probably under very little control.\nSuch works combine considerable variety in execution with a general\nsimilarity so great that a superficial observer does not see their\ndifferences. Public opinion in London seems to hold that Pheidias made\nthe whole of the pediments and the frieze of the Parthenon; though in\nsome cases contiguous figures are so markedly various amid the general\nlikeness as to prove separate hands. In the case of the Erechtheum at\nAthens there is extant a long list of payments to a number of artists\nfor the several figures of the frieze. There was no general contractor,\nno artist who hired his masons by the day, but every man who produced\none of the figures in relief was paid for it sixty drachmas, without\nregard to its difficulty or its simplicity.\n\nIt is comparatively easy to get a set of skilled stone-masons to carry\nout with exactness a plan of which all the details are worked out for\nthem, and which requires only faithful copying. And it must have been\neasy for a set of Egyptian sculptors who made their figures according to\na rigid conventional pattern to produce a uniform result. But for a\nnumber of skilled workers who were allowed great liberty in detail to\nproduce an harmonious whole was infinitely harder. And that the Greek\nmasons regularly accomplished this result shows how strong upon them was\nthe influence of the school. Nor did they merely work from nature; but\ntheir production was of an idealizing kind. It is clear that they must\nhave had not merely similar tools and similar mechanical processes, but\nthe same purposes and ideals. They must have had what we should call a\ncollective personality. It is more than probable that among the workers\non the Parthenon were Alcamenes and Agoracritus, two sculptors who rose\nto great fame. It is certain that among the workers on the Erechtheum\nwas Praxias, a pupil of Calamis, and probably a relative of Praxiteles.\nThe distinction between artist and mason, so marked in our day, scarcely\nexisted in Greece. The mason who had talent became a noted sculptor; and\nthe sculptor, instead of making a model in wax or plaster, set to work,\nlike Michelangelo, on the block of marble himself. Probably sometimes,\nlike Benvenuto Cellini, he cast his own bronze statues.\n\nGenerally in all great periods of art there is such fellowship. And in\nsculpture in particular the design and the execution are so closely\nconnected that it is an abuse to assign the two functions to different\nmen, and even to different classes of men. Greece was pre-eminently the\nland of productive guilds, of families of artists, of groups of workers\nwho were of one heart and one spirit, and who therefore worked in one\nstyle. One of the closest parallels to a Greek school of sculpture is to\nbe found in the group of Pre-Raphaelite artists of the middle of the\nlast century, Morris, Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Millais, Collins, and their\ncompanions. This group had a religious or ideal starting-point in the\nrevived Anglo-Catholicism which arose in Oxford at the time, and they\nhad principles of art in common which they embodied in their work. Their\npaintings, before they diverged one from another, form a distinct\nspecies, and have an interest for the historian of civilization greater\nthan that of any other English school.\n\n\nIX\n\nIn order that we may estimate the influence of Greek art on the\ncivilization of Europe, it is necessary briefly to trace its\nreappearances through the ages. Its first conquest was Rome. The\nvictorious Roman Generals, Marcellus, Scipio, Flamininus, Mummius, and\nothers, brought to the imperial city, to adorn their triumphs, an\nimmense quantity of Greek sculpture and paintings, of which they robbed\nthe great storehouses of works of art in the temples and stoae of\nHellas, Sicily, and Asia Minor. The earlier Emperors, especially Nero,\nfollowed their example, so that in the time of Pliny the naturalist all\nthe public places of Rome were crowded with sculptures of bronze and\nmarble and with the painted masterpieces of great artists. It became\nfashionable for wealthy Romans, such as Hortensius and Cicero, to stock\ntheir country-houses with such works. Even so, the demand was not\nsatisfied; and Greek artists were imported into Rome, where they set up\ngreat workshops, and poured out an incessant stream of fresh works of\nart. Of such our modern museums are full. Generally speaking they are of\nlittle artistic merit, copies of various degrees of excellence of the\ngreat works of earlier generations. For the Roman plutocrats had little\ntaste. Because certain figures or groups had a great reputation, and\nespecially because they had been purchased at a high price by Greek\ncities and kings, the Roman collector liked to have copies of them in\nhis villa; and the artists who produced these copies were mere workers\nfor hire, without originality and without aspirations. Sometimes when\nemployed on such works as the Arch of Titus, or the Column of Trajan,\nthe novelty of the theme stimulated the artist to attempt something of a\nmore original kind. And occasionally the fire within took course and\nproduced a finer work than ordinary. Under the art-loving Emperor\nHadrian there was a sort of St. Martin's summer of sculpture; but its\nproductions were smooth, elegant and refined rather than original or\ninteresting. The charm of art was not appreciated by the Roman people;\nonly the few who professed cultivation really cared whether a figure was\ngood or bad, and even the few were a little ashamed of their\npreferences.\n\nInto the Roman Empire, in the first three centuries of our era,\nChristianity gradually ate its way. It originated among the Jews, to\nwhom all representation of living things was hateful. And it developed\nunder the influence of Greek oriental mysticism, which had no kinship\nwith sculpture and painting; and so far as it had any expression in\nthose arts worked in the direction of that symbolism against which Greek\nart was a protest. Thus we could not expect any fresh inspiration for\nart from early Christianity; on the contrary, Christianity would work\nupon it as a blighting influence. If we examine the remains of Christian\nart in those early centuries, in sarcophagus and mural painting, we find\nthat it merely copied the contemporary pagan art, only changing the\nsubjects portrayed, and introducing a further development in the\nsymbolic interpretation of ordinary scenes.\n\nChristianity offered almost no field for the exercise of Greek\nanthropomorphism. The latter was closely bound up with polytheism and\nhero-worship. The Christian Apostles and Saints, who took the place of\nthe pagan Deities, were men who had lived on the earth and whose deeds\nbelonged not to mythology but to history, although at the time the line\nbetween history and mythology was not clearly drawn, and history was\nlargely diluted with myth. A few impersonations of nature, such as\nriver-gods, lingered on in the paintings of the Roman catacombs. And\nwinged genii were common there, whether cupids or cherubs it would be\nhard to say. But there was no realm into which artistic fancy could\nstray, filling it with super-men and super-women. Angels might be\nportrayed; but they all came from the Jewish angelology; and there was\nno artistic tradition as to their types: it was only later that the\ntypes of Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and others were distinguished.\n\nThe second principle of Greek art, balance and symmetry, had almost\ndisappeared in pagan art in the Antonine age. The reliefs of triumphal\narches and of sarcophagi are crowded with figures inserted without order\nor method. Even the mural paintings of Pompeii have escaped from\ncontrol; and show no purposeful arrangement. Law and order have given\nplace to individual fancy, unless in cases where earlier schemes are\nadopted. And with artistic arrangement has disappeared all attempt to\nidealize, to produce forms nobler and more beautiful than those seen\nevery day. The figure of Antinous is the latest in which we find any\nattempt to produce a type of ideal beauty. Even the Virgin Mary and her\nSon are depicted without any attempt to render them beautiful. Nor\nindeed does naturalism fare better than idealism. The representation of\nthe human body is no longer studied. The figures are clothed: and the\nclothing is purely conventional, while the features of the landscape are\nfar less carefully introduced than in Hellenistic Greek art.\n\nIn fact one feels that the artist had little interest in his art. Scenes\nfrom the Old and the New Testament are the usual subjects. But the\ndepiction is little more than picture-writing, mere copies of\ntraditional groups. The only thing regarded as of any interest is the\nmeaning. The ethical and spiritual point of view overlies and smothers\nany interest in the representation.\n\nAnd this predominance of the didactic element over the sense of\nproportion, the love of beauty, the appreciation of nature prevails more\nand more as Europe slowly moves towards the dark ages. The lamps of\nGreek art burn more and more dimly. They are never wholly extinguished;\nfor in all ages there are born artists to whom they are the light of\nlife; and in mediaeval carvings one finds here and there a touch of\nhumanism, most often in grotesque or satyric figures. We must never\nforget that some of the later masterpieces of Greek work, such as the\nColumn of Trajan and the Arch of Beneventum, were always to be seen. And\nlittle as they were appreciated by ordinary people, an artist here and\nthere derived from them some appreciation of the beauty of humanity.\n\nThen in the thirteenth century the dry bones began to come together. The\nbreath of fresh life stirred Europe, or at least parts of Europe, such\nas North Italy, Southern Germany, Eastern France. The magnificent Gothic\nCathedrals rising in the north called forth the talent of the painter\nand the sculptor for their adornment. A great Christian art arose, and\nin the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries flourished widely. Certain\nqualities of high art it certainly had. It was lighted by the lamp of\nfellowship. The sculpture was the work not of individuals, but of\nguilds, groups of workers of the same style, and inspired by the same\nmotives. It attained to great beauty in decoration, in the adaptation to\narchitectural purpose of the forms of plants and flowers. Where it was\nmost defective was in the rendering of the human form, whether nude or\ndraped, for in such matters the artists had no schooling to be compared\nwith that of the Greeks.\n\nWhen the full Renaissance came with the dispersion of the educated\nGreeks through Europe, there was a conscious reawakening of the artistic\ninfluence of Greece, contemporaneously with the revived interest in\nGreek literature and philosophy. A few great works of ancient sculpture,\nthe Laocoon, the Dying Gaul of the Capitol, the Apollo Belvedere were\ndiscovered; and collections of ancient gems and coins were formed by\nmany of the wealthy. We can judge from the life of Benvenuto Cellini how\nprofound was the effect produced by such discoveries. The great Italians\nof the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries felt as if they had climbed out\nof darkness into light. To rival works of Greek art was looked upon as\nthe highest ambition which an artist could cherish. Sculptors so great\nas Donatello and Michelangelo took the scanty remains of Greek\nmasterpieces as their models, and measured their attainments by the\ndegree of success which they reached in copying them. The lamps of Greek\nbalance and symmetry, Greek idealism, and Greek naturalism were\nrekindled, and the crowd of artists vied one with another in walking by\ntheir light.\n\nWe may mark four stages in the rediscovery of Greek sculpture. The first\nis the Italian Renaissance already mentioned. The second originated in\nthe visit of Winckelmann to Italy in 1755, and the application by Goethe\nand Lessing of his discoveries to the judgement of contemporary art. It\ntended greatly to the raising and purifying of the artistic taste of\nEurope. The splendid promise of the Renaissance had degenerated into the\nmannerism and extravagance of Bernini and his contemporaries.\nWinckelmann called it back to simplicity, to self-restraint, to\nideality. But before long this teaching also was perverted; and such\nsculptors as Thorwaldsen and Canova were misled by the defects of the\ninferior examples of Greek sculpture, which were the only ones\naccessible to Winckelmann, into a slavish copy of the antique or works\nof an artificial grand style. Then came the third wave of revived Greek\ninfluence, when the sculptures of the Parthenon found a home in London,\nand critics were able to observe how infinitely superior the\nmasterpieces of a really great age were to the copies of Roman times and\nthe adaptations of the Hellenistic age. When Haydon the painter first\nsaw the Parthenon marbles he was immensely impressed; but that which\nstruck him most strongly was not the ideality, for which they have since\nbecome proverbial, but the wonderful naturalism of much of their detail\nin contrast to the grandiose conventions of his contemporaries. The\nfourth stage in our knowledge of Greek sculpture comes from the very\nfruitful excavations on Greek soil, especially at Athens, Olympia, and\nDelphi, which have shown us how widely varied is the range of the\nancient sculptors, how many their styles, how admirable their technique.\nThis extension of our knowledge has not, it is true, as yet much\naffected contemporary art, as art was affected by the teachings of\nWinckelmann and the publishing of the marbles of the Parthenon. Until\nlast year there was no book in English setting forth the results of the\nexcavations of Delphi; and there is even now no book in English\nperforming the same service for the excavations at Olympia. Sculptors\nare so little educated in the history of their craft, that they do not\neasily learn from new sources of knowledge. But by degrees, beyond\ndoubt, the new views of Greek art will filter down to them. A few\nrecently discovered sculptures, such as the Charioteer of Delphi, the\nHermes of Praxiteles, the bronze head from Beneventum in the Louvre, the\nDemeter of Cnidus, have by their overpowering charm affected artists and\nart. And most sculptors profess a great admiration for Greek works,\nnotably Rodin, who, although the tendency of his works is not in a\nclassical direction, yet uses the strongest language in praising the\nGreek masterpieces. But in general the tendency of art towards extreme\nindividualism and the search after novelty have more than counteracted\nthe somewhat shallow admiration of sculptors for what is antique.\n\n\nX\n\nAt present religion and culture alike are struggling against the waves\nof barbarism reinvading. It is not my business to speak here of the\nforces which are trying to crush religion among us. But I may fitly\nconclude by sketching some of the tendencies against which culture based\nupon that of Greece is our best antidote. If I have rightly set forth\nthe principles of Greek literature and art in past pages, the nature of\ntheir influence under present conditions will be clear.\n\nI must venture on a parallel which seems to me very suggestive, though\nsome readers may regard it as risky. There are two great standards set\nup in the past, to control the wayward fanaticisms of men, and to keep\nthem within the bounds of reason and good sense. The standard in\nreligion is set by the New Testament: the standard in art is set by\nGreece. As at the Renaissance the peoples of Europe went back for their\ninspiration and their models to the literature and the art of Hellas, so\nat the Reformation they, or at all events the Teutonic races, went back\nto the early records of Christianity, appealing to them against the\nvenality and corruption of the dominant Church. And ever since, at\nintervals, there has arisen, alike in the field of culture and in that\nof religion, an echo of the appeal to the classical past. It is to the\nNew Testament that Apostles like John Wesley and George Fox made their\nappeal, setting up in opposition to the conventions and worldliness of\nthe Church in their times the spirituality and simplicity of the\napostolic age, just as Goethe and Lessing turned men's minds from what\nwas contrary to reason and good taste in their surroundings to Greek\nbeauty and simplicity. And however some of the followers of Wesley and\nFox may have gone beyond due bounds towards fanaticism, yet in every\nbranch of the Christian Society the influence of those modern prophets\nhas been renovating and purifying, just as the schools of critics which\nfollowed Goethe tended greatly to increase among us sweetness and light.\n\nIn our schools and colleges, until quite lately, the religion of the New\nTestament and the tradition of the Greek and Roman Classics have gone\ntogether, the one preserving us from superstition and materialism in\nreligion, the other making war upon the inherited barbarisms and\nbrutalities which we have from our not very distant ancestors. The\nspirit of anarchy in religion would persuade us that there is no divine\nsanction for goodness and no eternal stamp on vice, that morality is a\nmatter of convention which every society and every nation has a right to\ninvert if it judges such inversion in the line of its interests. The\nspirit of anarchy in art proclaims that all the works of nature are\nequally beautiful or equally ugly, that nothing which exists is unfit to\nbe represented in our galleries and public places, that so long as a\npicture or a statue arouses a sentiment it does not matter whether the\nsentiment be one of delight and aspiration or one of horror. If once the\nidea of beauty as the end to be aimed at be expelled from art, art sinks\nlike a stone to the bottom of the sea. Some people are ready to tolerate\nany monstrosity in art, however remote from nature, however offensive\nto decency, however repugnant to humanity. The whole artistic\ninheritance of the race from the day when men began to climb out of\nbarbarism is liable to be thrown away by an age which has unbounded\nconfidence in its own wisdom.\n\nI should, however, be sorry to stop at this point, for I might leave on\nreaders the impression that I am in favour of the mere imitation of\nworks of Greek art. That is by no means my view. In the last century\nseveral sculptors, overpowered by the charm of the antique, produced\nstatues which closely followed ancient patterns, such as the Hope and\nthe Hebe of Thorwaldsen, some of the statues of Rauch and Schadow, and\nthe tinted Venus of Gibson. Such works were necessarily stillborn; they\nhad not in them any breath of the life of a new age, any attempt to\nconform to changed conditions. Very different was the following of the\nantique by Michelangelo. He admired with enthusiasm such works of the\nGreek chisel as he knew; but he produced not dull and academic\nreflections of them, but works of the most splendid originality and the\ngreatest charm. He imbibed not the letter but the spirit of Greek art;\nand even succeeded better than most artists in combining that spirit\nwith a breath of Christianity.\n\nThe parallel which I have drawn may be carried farther. A reversion to\nthe letter of the New Testament writers has been often attempted by\nconsiderable religious leaders of our time, especially Tolstoi and the\nQuakers. They have gone back to the injunctions of the Sermon on the\nMount, and tried literally to abide by them. But it has become apparent\nto all but fanatics that such procedure would be fatal to civil\ngovernment and civilized life. It is the spirit not the letter of the\nteaching of Jesus which is life-giving. In just the same way an\nacceptance of the mere externals of Greek art would not help us at all;\nbut a revival of its spirit would be a great inspiration to modern\nartists. The lamps of Greek art will give light in any age. Greek\nidealism, Greek balance and measure, Greek love of what is natural and\nhealthful, Greek simplicity and moderation are of the very essence of\ngood art in all ages. We can no more revive the exact conditions under\nwhich art arose than we can import into England the clear air, the\nbright sun, the clear-cut shadows of the Greek landscape. But we can\nstill look up to the philosophy, the poetry, and the art of Greece as\nclassical, as a revelation of what is most pleasing and most enduring in\nhuman nature. And if we neglect them and reject them from the education\nof our children, we shall destroy what has been ever since the\nRenaissance the source of pure joy and refined feeling in the majority\nof cultured men; we shall make a great gap which material prosperity, a\ndeeper knowledge of the secrets of nature, the invention of fresh modes\nof amusement, can never fill. And if we trust merely to the reflections\nof the Greek spirit in modern literature and art, we shall be acting as\nthe Roman Church in its darker ages has acted, in shutting away from the\npeople recourse to the primary documents of religion, and obliging them\nto be content with such interpretations of those documents as the ruling\nhierarchy judged to be useful. We must retain the right of appeal to our\nclassical examples, whether in religion, in literature, or in art.\nArnold was right. The Bible, Homer, Shakespeare, Greek art remain the\nstars by which we may direct our course over stormy seas.\n\nP. GARDNER.\n\n\n\n\nARCHITECTURE\n\n\nNobody has ever disputed the beauty of Greek Architecture. We recognize\nthe justice of a description of the Parthenon as 'le supr\u00eame effort du\ng\u00e9nie \u00e0 la poursuite du beau'; but the layman must sometimes ask himself\nwhat does it mean? Where did it come from, where did it go to, why is it\nthought so beautiful, how was it that this people relatively\ninsignificant in power, in territory, and in numbers, was able to attain\nto this astonishing supremacy in art? These are questions not easily\nanswered. The evidence is fragmentary and not always conclusive, the\nruins of a few temples and buildings, a technical treatise by a\ngarrulous third-rate writer in the first century A. D.,[125] the\nanecdotes of an indefatigable collector[126] a little later, the notes\nof a traveller in the second century,[127] and the materials collected\nby the patient research of scholars and archaeologists, pieced together\non more or less ingenious hypotheses. Indeed, a great part of what is\nwritten on Greek Architecture is simply hypothesis. There is not much to\ngo on, yet Greek Architecture (and by this I mean the architecture of\nthe sixth and fifth centuries B. C.) remains one of the great\noutstanding facts in the history of the Architecture of the Western\nworld, and the Art of the age of Pericles is the fountain-head to which\nartists still return.\n\n    [125] Vitruvius, _De Architectura_.\n\n    [126] Pliny the Elder, _Historia Naturalis_, xxxvi.\n\n    [127] Pausanias, \u1f19\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03a0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03b7\u03b3\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 {Hellados Peri\u00eag\u00easis}.\n\nWhere that art sprang from, and how it grew, is largely a matter of\nspeculation. There have been legends of civilizations wiped out in\ntremendous cataclysms that left no trace behind them. Vague suggestions\nare made that the cradle of the race was in Asia. All we know for\ncertain is that the earliest civilizations of which actual historical\nevidence remains are those of Chaldea and Egypt, and that the art of\nthese countries reached a high degree of attainment long before we come\nupon the earliest traces of art of any sort in Greece. That both these\ncountries contributed in varying degrees to the art of Greece is\ncertain, but that is not the whole of the story. As we shall see,\nanother element comes into play, which made of that art almost a new\ncreation, differing in outlook and ideal from any art that preceded it,\nstamped by the genius of a vigorous northern race with a character all\nits own. The art of the East and the art of the West never really fused.\nThere is a difference in kind between the joyous vitality of pure Greek\nart, and the gloomy vision of Asia, with its craving for the vast and\nterrible, its sombre imagination, its lack of humanity and indifference\nto the individual.\n\nIt is not, however, till far down in the progress of history that this\ndifferentiation asserts itself. Greek art is relatively a late\ndevelopment. The Great Pyramid at Ghizeh was built some 2,000 years\nbefore a stone was laid of the masonry of Mycenae. The Hall of Columns\nof Karnak, with its columns sixty feet high, was probably coeval with\nthe Treasury of Atreus: in other words, when the art of Greece and of\nthe islands was scarcely out of the barbaric stage, a wonderful art had\nbeen in existence across the Mediterranean from time immemorial. Both\nEgypt and Chaldea attained a high degree of civilization long before the\nDorians were ever heard of. At some remote period the Egyptian influence\npenetrated to Crete and Cyprus, the islands of the Aegean, and the\nmainland of Greece; and the intermediaries were the Phoenicians, that\nenterprising race of merchant adventurers, whose home was in Syria, and\nwhose fleets traversed the Mediterranean from East to West. The\nPhoenicians were traders and not artists. In Egypt they came into\ncontact with a highly developed art, beyond their comprehension in its\nessential features, yet including details which could easily be\napprehended by their quick commercial intelligence. Wherever they\ntouched on their voyages, Cyprus, Crete, the southern islands of the\nAegean, the mainland of Greece, the south of Italy, Sicily, Carthage,\nthe Balearic islands, Spain in the far west, they probably carried with\nthem, for trading purposes, minor articles of Egyptian workmanship which\nmay have supplied hints to the indigenous peoples. Where they\nestablished settlements, they reproduced what they could recollect of\nthe methods of Egyptian architecture, possessing at second-hand a\nknowledge of technical methods in advance of anything within the\nknowledge of the people among whom they settled. Rudimentary\nanticipations of the Ionic volute are found in Phoenician capitals,\nvague reminiscences of what the traders had seen in Egypt and elsewhere.\nMoreover, the Phoenicians, who possessed the skill of sailors in the use\nof tackle, would have had little difficulty in handling large stones set\ndry in more or less regular courses, which was a characteristic feature\nof Cretan and Mycenaean building. It is too soon to describe the work as\narchitecture. It is doubtful if the Phoenicians possessed any aptitude\nfor the arts. Their r\u00f4le was that of intermediaries only.\n\nObscure as was the part played by the Phoenicians in the early origins\nof art in Greece and the islands, there was another channel through\nwhich Eastern influences came to bear on its development, which is even\nmore uncertain. To the west of Chaldea and north of Syria, dwelt a race\nof which little is known, the Hittites. Carchemish, their capital, was\non the upper Euphrates, north-east of Antioch, and their power appears\nto have extended westward through Asia Minor to the shores of the\nAegean. Dr. Sayce says that in the thirteenth century B. C. it extended\nfrom 'the banks of the Euphrates to the shores of the Aegean, including\nboth the cultured Semites of Syria and the rude barbarians of the Greek\nSeas', he even says that the Hittites 'brought the civilization of the\nEast to the barbarous tribes of the distant West'. What actually remains\nof Hittite art hardly bears out this statement. When the Hittite power\nwas at its height, Minoan 'art' had long been practised in Crete, and\naccording to the most popular chronology, had already passed its prime\nand given way to the art of Mycenae and Tiryns. The scanty evidence of\nHittite art consists of bas-reliefs of figures and animals cut on the\nface of rocks along the natural caravan routes through Asia Minor from\nEast to West. This and the evidence of seals and engraved gems show that\nHittite art was derived first from Chaldea, later from Egypt. It\nundoubtedly exercised some influence on the art of the early Greek\nsettlers on the eastern side of the Aegean, and gave it an Asiatic cast,\nwhich it never lost throughout all its later developments. For the\nGreeks of Asia Minor never really understood the austere ideal of Doric\nart. Ionian art crossed westward to Greece, but the Dorian never went\neast. It was the art of a strong northern race, that found no place for\nitself among the softer peoples of Asia Minor.\n\nAt this point we can take up the first rudimentary beginnings of Greek\nart. The discoveries of the last forty years have proved the existence\nin Crete and Cyprus, Southern Greece, and the islands of the Aegean, of\nan archaic art of obscure origin, of very great interest, and of\nremarkable attainment in certain directions, long before the earliest\nbeginnings of what we mean when we speak of Greek architecture. So far\nas architecture is concerned, this archaic art is of relatively minor\nimportance. It plays a small part, if any, in subsequent developments,\nand though enthusiastic explorers claim to find in it anticipations of\nthe details of modern domestic architecture, the evidence produced is\nunconvincing. Great movements in the arts always owe some debt to the\nperiods that have preceded them, but Minoan and Mycenaean art, at any\nrate in regard to architecture, was rather the last word of a decaying\ncivilization than the first herald of the glorious art of Greece in the\nsixth and fifth centuries B. C. We are still far back in remote ages,\nremote that is so far as Greek art is concerned, anywhere between 2000\nand 1000 B. C. or even earlier,[128] back in the Minoan age of Crete\nwith its rudimentary architecture, and its relatively high excellence in\nthe crafts, and in the age of Mycenae and Tiryns, the age that produced\nthe Lion Gate at Mycenae, and that strange half-barbaric work, if I may\nbe pardoned the term, the Treasury of Atreus. It is worth pausing to\nconsider these archaic buildings, not so much to show a relationship to\nlater work (which scarcely existed), as to call attention to the fact\nthat the Minoan and Mycenaean builders were moving unconsciously in a\ndirection that would never have led to the column and lintel\narchitecture of the seventh and sixth centuries B. C. It might have led\nto some form of dome construction, it could never have led to the Doric\nof the Sicilian temples. No stronger evidence of the genius of the\nDorian invaders could be produced than that, with this unpromising art\nin possession, they were yet able in the course of three or four\ncenturies to create Greek architecture. The design of the Lion Gate is a\nstrange jumble of ill-adjusted motives. It is set in a wall of great\nstones roughly squared and laid dry. Two monolith jambs support a huge\nlintel, cambered in the middle like the tie-beams of our\nsixteenth-century roofs. Above the lintel the courses are gathered over,\nleaving between their lower faces and the top of the lintel a\ntriangular space of a steep pitch (about 60\u00b0), in which was inserted a\nfrontispiece carved on a single stone representing two lions standing up\non either side of an archaic column supporting a fragment of a\nrudimentary architrave.[129] The heraldic pose of the lions and the\ntechnique of their sculpture, so suggestive of Assyrian reliefs with\ntheir splendid sense of muscular form and energy, are far ahead of an\narchitecture that is still barbaric, scarcely architecture at all. There\nis here nothing to suggest the Doric of Paestum and Selinus, much to\nrecall the megalithic buildings of Syria, and the sculpture of the\nfarther East.\n\n    [128] Sir Arthur Evans has drawn up an ingenious chronology of Early\n    Minoan (2800-2200 B. C.), Middle Minoan (2200-1700 B. C.), and Late\n    Minoan (1700-1200 B. C.). The evidence is almost entirely that of\n    pottery discovered on the site. The whole question of the relations\n    of Minoan to Mycenaean art, and of this archaic art to the earlier\n    civilizations of Egypt and Chaldea, is very obscure and uncertain.\n\n    [129] The heraldic treatment of the lions is of Eastern origin. The\n    Greeks had a tradition that the chieftains of Mycenae came from\n    Lydia.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 1. LION GATE, MYCENAE]\n\nThe Treasury of Atreus is still more remarkable, not only because it\nshows more skill in building, but because its design is based on a\nstructural motive which seems to have been wholly abandoned by the\nsuccessors of the Mycenaean builders. The Treasury of Atreus (or Tomb of\nAgamemnon) was excavated in a hill, and consists of a long passage about\n120 ft. by 21 ft. wide, with retaining walls of megalithic masonry on\neither side, terminating in a great entrance doorway. This doorway is\nflanked on either side by columns tapering downwards, and decorated with\nchevrons in a manner very similar to Norman work of the eleventh\ncentury, and apparently intended solely for ornament.[130] The entrance\nopened into a circular domed chamber about 48 ft. 6 in. in diameter, 45\nft. 4 in. high, out of which opened another smaller chamber. The dome,\nin section, is built on the curve of a parabola, formed with courses\nprojecting over one another, and not set out radial to the curve of the\ndome--in other words it is not a true dome or arch, but a succession of\ncorbels. The internal face of the dome is dressed down, and was covered\nwith ornament of some sort, whether metal rosettes, or enamelled\nterra-cotta, or wholly in metal, possibly the famous gold of Mycenae, is\nnot known. The whole of this chamber was covered in with a mound of\nearth, in accordance with the primitive custom of concealing the\nchieftain's grave. It is impossible to find, in this extremely\ninteresting monument or in the domed chamber of Orchomenos in Boeotia,\nany trace of future developments in Greek architecture. Both in\nintention and in its psychological background it seems almost as remote\nfrom the Doric Temple as the Great Pyramid itself. In point of fact\narchitecture was still in a rudimentary stage. It has been proved\nabundantly that Architecture comes late in the sequence of the Arts.\nPeople could draw well, long before they could design. Among the\ncavemen, for example, there were admirable draughtsmen, but they had to\nmake their drawings on the sides of caves. That there existed in the\nMinoan and Mycenaean ages skilful potters and metal-workers, is shown by\nthe vases of Knossos and the gold cups found at Vaphio near Sparta; that\nthey built habitable buildings and decorated them to the best of their\nability is also proved, as, for example, the palace of Tiryns, but it\nhas not yet been shown that their builders reached the degree of skilled\ndesign, at which building becomes architecture. Architecture had not yet\nfound itself in Greece.\n\n    [130] Portions of these columns are now in the British Museum.\n\nThen somewhere about 1000 B. C. came the Dorian invasions, and the art\nof Crete and Mycenae vanished into space--possibly the legend was right\nwhich said that the conquered people of the mainland carried it away\nwith them to Asia. Anyhow, the three or four centuries following the\nDorian invasions are a blank which future research may fill out for us,\nand so far as art is concerned, there appears to have been a _d\u00e9tente_,\nduring which the new race was settling down to its conquest, finding\nitself, and assimilating something at any rate of the older\ncivilization. The survival of such buildings as the Treasury of Atreus\nshow that the Dorians were not simple barbarians, destroying all that\ncame in their way. Even Sparta in its earlier days was not a mere\nmilitary machine. Discoveries made in 1906-9 suggest that from the ninth\nto the seventh centuries B. C. Sparta had some sort of an art of its own\nshowing traces of Asiatic influence in its pottery--a little later\nSparta concluded an alliance with Croesus, King of Lydia, and Bathycles,\nan artist of Magnesia in Ionia, was treated with honour in Sparta. The\nDorians were something more than fighters, they seem to have possessed\nsome sort of civilization, and to have been endowed with a natural\ncapacity for the arts, which after two or three centuries of experiment\nwill find its own splendid expression within very definite and original\nlines. The legend of the return of the Heracleidae was to be justified\nby their later history. No merely imitative race could have evolved the\nperfect manner of the great Doric temples from the scraps of Egypt and\nthe East, and the rudimentary buildings of Crete and Mycenae.\n\nGreek architecture for the purpose of this study is Dorian architecture,\nand its elements are simple. It was evolved in the design of their\ntemples, and with the exception of their theatres it was summed up in\nthese temples. From the period during which Greek architecture was being\nbuilt up to its maturity, say from the seventh century B. C. to the\ncompletion of the Parthenon in the fifth century B. C., the whole life\nof the Greek was coloured and dominated by his religion and its\nobservances; and his religion was not the sinister mystery of Egypt, but\non the whole a cheerful open-air Pantheism that gloried in the life and\nbeauty of the visible world in which he lived. He himself was content to\nlive in a poor house, so long as he had his market-place, his ceremonial\ntheatre, and the glorious temples of his Gods. Moreover, to whatever\ndepths the Athenians may have sunk in the time of St. Paul, in the\nheroic days of Pericles they were remarkable for constancy of purpose\nand the steadfastness of their ideals. They stood on the ancient ways,\nand it never occurred to them to abandon the tradition of their fathers,\ntheir business was to carry it forward to perfection. The result was\nthat the architecture of their temples proceeded on lines that long use\nhad made sacrosanct; and its technique is summed up in the history of\ntwo orders, the Doric and the Ionic.[131]\n\n    [131] The order, I may say for the uninitiated, means the complete\n    ordonnance of the column, the architrave resting immediately on its\n    capital, the frieze and the cornice. It is the final expression of\n    the simple device of the post and lintel, of the beam resting on the\n    heads of two or more posts; and there is little doubt that in its\n    ultimate origin, the Order is the translation into stone of the\n    details of a rudimentary wooden construction.\n\nNow, the order, its character, dimensions and disposition, with the wall\nof the Cella (or enclosed shrine) within the colonnade, summed up the\nelements, the vocabulary, if one may so put it, of Greek architecture;\nand we come here at the outset on a curious quality of the Greek genius,\nand one that differentiates it from the Roman. The properties of wood\nand stone as materials are clearly different, things can be done with\nthe one which are impossible with the other; but the Greeks either did\nnot realize this or did not trouble their heads about it. They found\nthat the post and lintel was a simple means of building, and they\nadopted it as their permanent method of construction. If the span became\ntoo wide, they thickened the posts (the columns of Paestum are 7 ft. in\ndiameter) and increased the strength of the beam (the architrave). Hence\nthe vast solidity of the Doric order of the temples of Sicily and Magna\nGraecia. The Greek was incurious about construction _qua_ construction.\nHe found, in the column and the lintel, means perfectly adequate to\nrealize his ideal of high unalterable beauty, and he was content. The\nRomans, who for a time were satisfied with these simple methods, became\nimpatient of the constructive limitation of the post and lintel. They\nwanted to cover in great spaces, and to leave the floor unencumbered;\nand concentrating on this they arrived at the arch, the vault, and the\ndome, and so became the greatest builders of the world. To them, the\norders were a mere appanage of decoration, which they never properly\nappreciated, of which they mistook the intention, adopted the worst\nelements, and often enough made a gross misuse. The Greeks took another\nline. They adopted the column and lintel once for all as the only\npossible method of construction, and devoted all their labours to the\nincessant refinement of this type, eliminating the unessential, arriving\nby constant selection at the most perfect expression of their purpose,\nand their purpose was not that of the Roman and the modern architect,\nmainly utilitarian, it was directed entirely to the aesthetic appeal,\nthe appeal to the emotions through beauty of line, of form, and in a\nless degree of colour. 'The whole fabric of Greek art goes to pieces\nwhen it is brought into contact with a purely utilitarian nation like\nRome.'[132]\n\n    [132] _Hellenistic Sculpture_, by Guy Dickins, p. 85. The author,\n    who wrote with something of the insight of the artist as well as the\n    accurate knowledge of the scholar, died of wounds, on the Somme, in\n    1916.\n\nOf the two orders, the Doric and the Ionic, the Doric seems to me the\npurest embodiment of the true Greek spirit, in its faultless form, and\nits austere restraint and rejection of the unessential. It was,\nmoreover, the order _par excellence_ of the Greek temple of the\nmainland. The Erechtheum was the only Ionic temple of first-rate\nimportance in Greece, and the employment of the Ionic order in Greece\nwas confined to interiors and minor buildings. As for the Corinthian\norder, the favourite order of the Romans, it was scarcely recognized by\nthe Greeks. In all their great temples, in Greece, in Sicily, and Magna\nGraecia, they used the Doric order.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 2. TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE AT PAESTUM]\n\nHow this order was arrived at we do not really know. Ingenious\nconjectures have been made as to its origin in wooden construction,\nand though some of these conjectures are more probable than others they\nleave us pretty well where we were in regard to the stages by which it\nreached its final form. It has been suggested that the Doric column\noriginated in the wooden post of the earliest temples, such as are\nsupposed to have existed in the Heraion at Olympia. The square post\nwould have its angles taken off, and become an octagon, and the further\nelimination of the angles would gradually produce a form nearly circular\nin plan, in which the arrises of the chamfered angles would remain, and\nthis might easily suggest to artists so sensitive as the Greeks, their\nfurther refinement and definition by a slight hollow between the arrises\nwhich would constitute the flutings of the Doric column. Its derivations\nfrom the Minoan and Mycenaean columns seems most improbable. There are\ntwo essential parts in the Doric column, the shaft and the capital (the\nGreeks did not use any base for this order). The Minoan columns taper\ndownwards instead of upwards, an utterly unconstructional form, and\nthough in the palace of Knossos and at Tiryns columns of this shape\nappear to have been used to carry lintels, the stone columns on either\nside of the entrance to the Treasury of Atreus at Mycenae were used for\ndecorative and not for structural purposes. On the other hand columns of\ngreat massiveness tapering upwards had been used long before in Egypt;\nand though there is evidence against it, it still seems probable that\nthe suggestion of the shaft of the Doric column may have come from\nEgypt. We first find it in Greece in the seventh century B. C. at the\nperiod when Psammetichus I (671-617 B. C.) opened Egypt to Greek trade\nand settlement. The Greek colony of Naukratis on the west side of the\nNile delta was founded by Milesians about 650 B. C. and by the middle of\nthe sixth century B. C. definite trade relations were established\nbetween Naukratis and the mainland of Greece. The Greek settlement at\nDaphnae on the eastern arm of the Nile appears to have been founded at\nabout the same time as Naukratis, in both cases with the sanction and\nencouragement of the Egyptian king. The earliest Doric temples in\nGreece, Sicily, and Magna Graecia date from the end of the seventh\ncentury and early part of the sixth century. The nearness of date makes\nit probable that the shaft of the Doric order had its origin in the\nEgyptian column seen by some quick-witted Greek when trading in Egypt.\nWhen we come to the capital of the column, the r\u00f4les seem to be\nreversed, for we find nothing in Egyptian architecture to suggest the\nechinus moulding under the square abacus of the Doric column; whereas\nthe Mycenaean column had a rudimentary capital which may have suggested\nthe idea of the Doric capital. But the notable thing about it is that\nwhen we first come across the Doric capital in Sicily and Greece, it is\nalready far in advance of anything that had gone before it in Greece,\nand it is quite different from the columns of Egypt. In the Doric temple\nof Corinth (650-600 B. C.) the columns have already reached the type\nform, the tapered shaft with its entasis or slight convex curvature in\noutline, its massive solidity (the ratio is one of diameter to four and\na quarter of height), and the bold parabolic curve of the echinus\nmoulding under the abacus of its cap. In this form, the Doric column was\nan absolutely fresh note in architecture. Archaic though they were,\nthese columns at Corinth show that the Greeks were already on the track\nof those refinements of form, those optical corrections and\ncompensations, which differentiate Greek architecture from that of any\nother race. The exaggeration in the entasis of the archaic column\ndisappears, its tapering was diminished, its height increased, and the\noverhang of the capitals reduced, till in the Theseion (465 B. C.) and\nthe Parthenon (450-438 B. C.) we reach the final inimitable type. The\ncolumn, which at Paestum was not much over four times the height of its\ncorrect diameter, is now over five times, the great overhanging\ncapitals are reduced to reasonable dimensions, the depth of the\nentablature is diminished, the axis of the column is slightly inclined\ninwards to give the impression of stability, the shafts have the slight\ncurve or 'entasis' just sufficiently marked to prevent the outline of\nthe column looking incurved; the lines of the stylobate, or continuous\nbase, on which the columns stand, and the entablature which they carry,\nhave a slight rise toward the centre in order to correct the impression\nof the lines sinking in the middle; the columns at the angles are\nthickened, because standing free with the light all round them they\nwould otherwise appear smaller than the columns standing against the\nbackground of the building. Nothing was left to chance; every aspect of\nthe building, the relation of every part to the whole, and of the whole\nto its part, was studied profoundly, so that there should be no failure\nin its perfect harmony. Except in Egyptian architecture, and there to a\nmuch smaller extent, nothing like this had been done before. What the\nGreeks did, was to formulate a rhythmical architecture, in which each\npart stood in a definite and considered relation to the whole, so that\neven in their ruined state these Doric temples give an irresistible\nimpression of a great idea, a great architectural epic, in which each\ndetail, however beautiful, was subordinated to the unity of the\nconception as a whole. It is this abstract quality which lifts Greek\nDoric so far above the ambitious art of later ages, and indeed above all\nbut the very finest work of any period of architecture.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 3. DORIC TEMPLE, CORINTH]\n\nMany attempts have been made to discover the secret of this wonderful\nperfection of proportion. That the Greeks had a system of their own,\nthat they worked to definite ratios of dimension and number, and\nemployed graphic methods of determining their proportions, such as the\nuse of triangles and the like to determine the limits of their designs,\nseems certain. But no contemporary account of any such system remains;\nand all the explanations that are given are _ex post facto_, made by\ntheorists analysing existing buildings, not by architects designing new\nones. Some four or five hundred years later Vitruvius compiled a\ntreatise on architecture, in which, following the doctrines of the\nschool of Alexandria, he expounded a Greek theory of proportion on the\nbasis of the human figure. Vitruvius is obscure, and does not seem to\nhave been certain himself whether the proportion of the parts of a\ndesign were to bear a relation to the whole, analogous to that of\nmembers of a human body to the body as a whole, or whether the\nproportions of the order were to be taken from the actual proportions of\nthe human body; and he complicates the position by reference to the\n'perfect numbers' of the Greeks. But here again he was uncertain whether\nthe 'perfect number' was ten or six. After which, and having, in his\nreference to the human figure as the canon of proportion, unwittingly\nset a trap for the scholars and artists of the Renaissance, he drops the\nsubject and digresses into a general classification of temples, with\nformal rules for the placing and dimensions of columns, which have\nformed the staple of treatises on classical architecture ever since. One\nshould speak with gratitude of the labours of Vitruvius, because, after\nall, his is the only technical treatise left us on the subject; but he\napplied to the pure Greek temples a system evolved centuries later by\ncritics and theorists; he was thinking chiefly of Roman versions of\nGreek architecture, and he was more interested in technical rules and\nprecepts for the use of architects than in that abstract beauty which\nwas all the Greek cared for. No classification, however laborious, will\nreach the mystery of Greek architecture. Its beauty is too subtle to be\nreduced to any formula.\n\nThe Doric order reigned supreme throughout the great period from the\nsixth till the end of the fifth century B. C. It failed with the failure\nof the high ideals of Athens. Other forces came into play to which it no\nlonger responded, and later Greek critics even found fault with the\nDoric order for certain 'mendosae et inconvenientes symmetriae';[133]\nbut that order, the true symbol of the sons of Heracles, was one of the\nmost momentous contributions ever made to the art of architecture. It\nwas the keynote of Greek architecture throughout its finest period.\nLater it was superseded by the Ionic order, and when Rome became\nparamount in the western world, that, in its turn, yielded its place of\npride to the Corinthian order, opulent, luxurious, a little vulgar, a\ntrue register of the lowering of the sense and standard of beauty that\nfollowed the downfall of Athens.\n\n    [133] _Vitruvius_, iii. 1. The difficulty was, that if the triglyph\n    was placed on the angle of the building (the practice of the Greeks)\n    and the next triglyph was placed over the axis of the column, the\n    metope (or panel) between these two triglyphs would be larger than\n    the metopes between the triglyphs axial over the other columns. The\n    Greeks solved it by reducing the width of the end intercolumniation,\n    but later critics disliked this, and solved it by removing the end\n    triglyph from the angle and placing it axial over the end column.\n\nMeanwhile, on the other side of the Aegean, the Ionic order was reaching\nits perfect form through a similar process of systematic thought on a\ntype definitely adopted. The Greek colonies in Asia Minor were of very\nearly origin. Legend attributed their foundation to the earlier\ninhabitants of Greece, driven out by the Dorians. By the sixth century\nB. C. the Greek colonies were well established on the west and\nsouth-west coasts of Asia Minor, and had evolved their own\ncharacteristic architectural idiom in the Ionic order and its column,\nmore slender than the Doric, with its moulded base and its strange\ncharacteristic capital, unsuitable from the constructional point of view\nin stone or marble, yet ultimately attaining the exquisite beauty of\nline and modelling of the capitals of the Erechtheion at Athens. Two\nthings seem fairly certain as to the origin of this capital; first, that\nit was derived from the wooden horizontal head-pieces fixed on posts to\nreduce the bearing of the primitive wooden lintels; and, secondly, that\nthe first suggestion of the volute reached the Ionian Greeks from the\nEast. A crude anticipation of the volute is found in Phoenician work,\nand it also appears on a Hittite relief at Boghaz Keui in the middle of\nAsia Minor. Its origin in either case was oriental, and we have here the\nother motive in Greek architecture, Eastern, at any rate exotic, and, as\ncompared with Doric, almost alien to the true Greek genius. Yet this\nastonishing people gave it a form as far removed from its barbarous\noriginals, as the Doric capitals of the Parthenon from the capitals of\nthe columns of Mycenae, and when the Greeks of both sides of the Aegean\ndrew together after the defeat of the Persians, the Ionic order crossed\nthe sea, and assumed a place of honour in the temples of Greece, still,\nhowever, with rare exceptions, in subordination to the Doric order. In\nthe colonies in Asia Minor, the supremacy of the Ionic order had long\nbeen recognized. The Ionic temple of Hera at Samos, 368 ft. long by 178\nft. wide, is supposed to have been built at the end of the sixth or\nearly in the fifth century B. C., and this was the forerunner of the\ngreat fourth-century temples of Ionia, built when Architecture had\nchanged its direction and Hellenistic Art was beginning its adventurous\ncareer.\n\nWith these two orders as the terms and idioms of expression the Greeks\nbuilt up the architecture of their temples. Their plans were the\nsimplest possible. The rudimentary type was a simple chamber or cella,\nwith a loggia open to the air except for two columns standing between\nthe two extremities of the side walls, which terminated in pilasters\nknown as 'antae'.[134] The next stage was to bring the colonnade\nforward,[135] stage number three repeated the column at the other end of\nthe building,[136] stage number four continued the colonnade along the\nsides,[137] stage number five doubled the colonnade on all four\nsides,[138] and stage number six retained the outer rows of columns but\nomitted the inner row along the sides, leaving a wide passage-way all\nround the main building.[139] Vitruvius gives a further classification\nby the spacing of columns which will be found in all the handbooks of\nclassic architecture. With minor variations in detail, these types\nremained constant for the temples of Greece and Rome. The principal\nalterations occurred in the extension of the temple proper, at the\nexpense of the surrounding colonnade. In the Archaic temples, such as\nthe older temples of Selinus in Sicily (sixth century B. C.), the\nportico and colonnade occupy three-quarters of the site. In the temple\nof Hephaestus (Theseion) at Athens (fifth century B. C.) the cella\noccupies only a little more than half the total area, and in the\nParthenon, built some twenty years later, the size of the cella is still\nfurther increased. Most of these temples were covered in. Hypaethral\ntemples, in which the cella was open to the sky, are mentioned by\nVitruvius, and it is probable that some of the larger ones at any rate\nwere partly open to the sky. But how the openings were arranged is\nalmost entirely a matter of conjecture. The roof used was of a very flat\npitch, one of height to four of base, later it was even flatter, and\nthis dictated the slope of the pediments. This roof covered the whole of\nthe building, that is, both the cella and the colonnades on either side\nof it, and as the Greeks were ignorant of the principle of the\ntriangulated truss built up of beams in compression and tension, they\nwere at a loss to know how to carry their roof without pushing out their\nwalls. Hence the great solidity of their buildings, and the rather\nclumsy expedient of the colonnades in the interiors of temples which\nappear to have been the only means they could think of to carry the\nroof. One has to bear it in mind in thinking of Greek architecture, that\nthe Greeks were not constructors in the sense that the Romans were; they\nbuilt well, and the best of their masonry was extraordinarily\nskilful--only by unusual skill in the cutting and setting of stone could\nthey have carried out the delicate curves in the columns and other parts\nof their buildings--but construction, in the sense of the invention of\nnew methods to meet difficult conditions, did not interest the Greek,\nand one cannot help thinking that the Greeks may have been more\nsuccessful with the outside of their buildings than with the inside. It\nseems clear that they devoted most of their attention to the external\nelevations. It is not really known for certain how they lit their\ntemples, though of course all sorts of suggestions of top-lighting have\nbeen made. It is possible that in some cases they were lit only from the\nprincipal entrance, and it is certain that the Greek did not want for\nthe interior of his temple any such floods of light as are necessary\nunder our northern skies. In the first place, he enjoyed a most\nbrilliant and penetrating light, so that within his colonnades reflected\nlight was amply sufficient to show the friezes and other ornaments, and\nhe did not hesitate to use strong primary colours to heighten and\nexplain their effect, wherever he found it necessary. In the second\nplace, within the shrine itself, other considerations came into play. A\ncertain luminous atmosphere, rather than positive light was what was\naimed at, and the deep shadows of these internal colonnades might have\nhelped this effect, adding to the mystery of the figure of the God.\n\n    [134] Vitruvius gives this as the 'aedes in antis'.\n\n    [135] Pro-style (colonnade in front).\n\n    [136] Amphipro-style (colonnade at both ends).\n\n    [137] Peripteral (single colonnade all round).\n\n    [138] Dipteral (double colonnade all round).\n\n    [139] Pseudo-dipteral (inner row of columns omitted).\n\nThis, too, may be the explanation of what must strike an architect as an\nanomaly of design, the Greek habit of placing enormous figures in the\ninterior of their temples. The Greek, in his own way, was a very\nreligious man. In his temple, he was doing his utmost to set forth the\nmajesty of his God, and if it was necessary for this purpose he was even\nprepared to sacrifice his principles as an artist, to ignore the scale\nof his interior and the rhythmic harmony of his design, by the\nintroduction of gigantic figures. The eye judges by what it knows, and\nthe readiest way of arriving at some idea of the size of a building or a\nmonument is by relating it to the normal size of the human figure.\nVitruvius, in his confused way, suggested that the human figure was the\ncanon and standard of architectural design, but how is it possible to\ndetermine the scale of a building which contained a figure at least six\ntimes the size of a man, reaching from the floor to the roof? The\nchryselephantine figure of Zeus at Olympia, made by Pheidias, is\nsupposed to have been some thirty-five feet high, and to have reached\nnearly to the roof, passing the double tier of columns and the gallery\nabove the aisles of the cella. Moreover, this god was represented as\nseated on his throne, so that by no possibility could it have been in\nscale with the building so far as the architecture was concerned. Even\nthe gigantic temple of Zeus at Agrigentum with its external columns 61\nft. 9 in. in height, and large enough for a man to stand within one of\nthe flutings of the columns, could hardly have stood up to figures on\nsuch a scale as this. Such a violent contrast in scale broke the\nprinciple of \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1 {symmetria}, that strict relation of the part to\nthe whole which the Greek artists maintained elsewhere with scrupulous\ncare. Artists with such a consummate sense of proportion as the Greeks\npossessed would hardly have made a mistake here, and the conclusion one\ncomes to is that where their religion was in question, everything had to\ngive way. Indeed, one can imagine the tremendous effect of this colossal\nfigure seen dimly in the half-light of the cella, filling the whole\ntemple with its presence. The same anomaly in scale occurred in the\nAkropolis at Athens, where the vast figure of Athene Promachos must have\nreduced the beautiful Caryatides of the Erechtheum to insignificance. M.\nChoisy makes a gallant effort to show that this want of relationship in\nscale, and also in the siting of the temples, was deliberate and\nconsidered. As a fact, the general rule that seems to have been observed\nin the time of Pericles was that new temples should always be built on\nthe site of the older ones,[140] but axis lines were neglected, and even\nthe masses of the Propylaea, beautiful building as it must have been,\ndid not balance. The Akropolis was just a collection of unrelated\nbuildings, and in the great Temenos of Delphi the various monuments were\nall anyhow.[141] The Sacred Way meandered about like an S, and the only\nmethod it observed was to clear the various treasuries and shrines which\nappear to have been scattered about within the enclosure, with a\ndisregard of each other little less than brutal--a rather suggestive\nsymbol of the internecine rivalry of the small Greek states. At Delphi,\nalso, there was a huge figure of Apollo Sitalkas said to have been\nseventeen metres high, which must have been hopelessly out of scale. The\nfact was that Greek architects of the fifth century had not yet arrived\nat the conception of the city as a whole. They had an admirable eye for\na site, for example, the position of the Parthenon itself, and the\ntemple of Hera Lacinia at Agrigentum placed high above the sea, but it\nis unhistorical to invest even the architects of the Parthenon and the\nPropylaea with a knowledge and outlook which was not thought of till a\nhundred years later. Even the Greek architects and sculptors of the\nfifth century B. C. were not omniscient, yet within their limits, in\ntheir mastery of what they set themselves to do, the artists of the age\nof Pericles remain unapproachable, and theirs was the Golden Age of\nArchitecture. They had fixed for all time essential elements of the art,\nand had set up a standard of attainment in pure form which no subsequent\narchitecture has ever been able to reach.\n\n    [140] The Erechtheum was an exception.\n\n    [141] See _Delphi_, by Dr. Frederick Poulsen, p. 52. It is suggested\n    that the Sacred Way was in existence before the shrines were built,\n    and that its wanderings were necessitated by the gradients of the\n    hillside. No sort of attempt, however, seems to have been made to\n    correct this, or to treat it as an element of design.\n\nThe fall of Athens closed this splendid chapter, but Greek\narchitecture was by no means done with. The Silver Age, the Hellenistic\nart that followed, is of intense interest. With the rise of the\nMacedonian monarchy the stage of history shifted from the mainland to\nthe Ionian colonies on the coast of Asia Minor. Cities such as Ephesus\nand Miletus became immensely prosperous, Mausolus of Halicarnassus, the\nAttalids of Pergamon, possessed wealth that would have been unimaginable\nto the Greeks of Marathon. The City State, fighting desperately for its\nexistence, inspired by high ideals of patriotism and religion, was a\nthing of the past. These Greeks of Ionia were well content to enjoy the\ncomfort and prosperity of a settled civilization without having to fight\nfor it; and the whole atmosphere of their existence must have been\ndifferent from the strenuous life of Greece in the fifth century.\nMoreover, the Ionian Greek, influenced, even if subconsciously, by the\nspirit of Asia, was by temperament unable to maintain the intellectual\nlevel of the Doric architecture of the mainland; and a difference\nappears in the whole orientation of art, in sculpture perhaps even more\nthan in architecture. The history of Hellenistic art has yet to be\nwritten. It has been described as decadent, and it was undoubtedly\nresponsible for some very poor stuff, but it also produced the 'Victory'\nof Samothrace, one of the finest things ever done in sculpture, and some\nvery remarkable developments in architecture. It is not to be judged by\nthe standards of the art that preceded it. The Ionian Greek of the\nfourth and third centuries B. C. broke away from the tradition of the\nmainland, a tradition always rather alien to his instincts. His interest\nlay less in a somewhat impersonal religion than in the assertion of his\nown individuality. He did not understand the lofty patriotism, and the\nhigh ideal of abstract beauty that had inspired Pericles and his artists\nin the Akropolis; indeed, there is a curiously modern feeling about much\nof his work, which became more marked as he came under the dominance of\nRome. The individualism, the realism, the revivalism, and the\ncommercialism of modern art, were all anticipated by the Hellenistic\nartists of Ionia, of Rhodes, of Alexandria, and of Athens itself in the\nRoman period. Civilization was becoming more complex, and one finds this\nreflected in Hellenistic art, at once more florid than the Doric of the\nfourth century, yet also more skilful in its handling of complicated\nproblems of planning and design. No one wanted archaic simplicity when\nthe wealth of Asia was flowing into the treasuries of the Ionian states,\nand the expression of this opulent ease is found in their magnificent\ntemples, such as the third temple of Artemis at Ephesus, of which the\nouter colonnade measured 342 ft. 6 in. by 163 ft. 9 in., or the vast\ntemple of Apollo Didymaeus at Miletus, 165 ft. wide by 360 ft. long out\nto out of the colonnades; or the amazing monument of Mausolus of Caria\nat Halicarnassus, or the great altar of Pergamon. Fragments of the\ncolumns of the Temple of Artemis, now in the British Museum, tell of its\nsize and richness, they also give the first hint of the downfall of art\nand civilization which was to follow centuries later. The Greeks of the\ngreat period had kept the structural parts of their building free of\nornament. It would never have occurred to them to interfere with the\nlines of the column in any way that would contradict its purpose; but\nthe Greek architects of Ephesus not only placed their columns on\npedestals (making them so far less stable in appearance), but they\nadorned the lower part of their Ionic columns with figures, of admirable\nexecution, but perfectly inappropriate in the position they occupy. One\ncannot imagine Pheidias making a mistake such as this. Splendid in\nexecution as Hellenistic sculpture often was, it won its place at the\nexpense of architecture; one looks in vain for that selection and\nrestraint which give its undying distinction to the earlier work.\n\n[Illustration: Fig. 4. TEMPLE OF THESEUS, ATHENS]\n\nThe Greeks of the fifth century realized that architecture is an art\nwith a definite purpose other than that of a mere vehicle for sculpture,\nand that it makes its aesthetic appeal by its own inherent qualities of\nrhythm, and proportion, spacing, mass, and outline. Though they used\nsculpture and colour to heighten and intensify the effect of their\narchitecture, they saw very clearly the function of the arts in relation\nto each other, and kept their sculpture and their colour in strict\nrelation to the aesthetic purpose of their architecture. It is a point\non which later architects went lamentably astray. A great deal of early\nRenaissance work is mere ornamentation of buildings, indeed in buildings\nsuch as the Certosa of Pavia the architecture has almost ceased to\nexist; and most of the bad architecture of the last fifty years is due\nto the deplorable fallacy that ornament is architecture. The columns of\nEphesus, the sculpture of the altar of Pergamon, brilliant as they were\nin technical accomplishment, were the first hint of that decline which\nwas in time to undermine the whole fabric of the Arts. Architecture was\ndeposed from its high intellectual dominance. It tended more and more to\nbecome a conventional affair, and it was an easy transition from the\nexuberance of Hellenistic art to the point-blank vulgarity of Roman\nornamental architecture.\n\nIt was, however, inevitable that the fine simplicity of Periclean art\nshould vanish with its ideals, and one finds a certain compensation in\nthe extension of the range and outlook of architecture, which we owe to\nthe Hellenistic architects of the fourth and succeeding centuries B. C.\nSo far as perfection of form was concerned, it was impossible to carry\nthe art beyond the stage to which Ictinus and Callicrates had brought\nit; but there still remained something, and something very important, to\nbe done. Axial planning, the consideration of the relation of building\nto building, seem to have been outside the consciousness of Greeks of\nthe fifth century, and each building was treated as an unrelated unit.\nBut the inconvenience of this, its loss of opportunity, and the\nnecessity of order and method, must have become apparent, as\ncivilization became more complex and more exacting. By the end of the\nfourth century B. C. the tradition of architectural technique was\nfirmly established, and architects were able to turn their attention to\nproblems of large planning, and these they seem to have handled with\nextraordinary skill. So far, what had been done in this direction had\nbeen due to religious inspiration, as in the processional ways leading\nto the Egyptian temples or the avenue of figures at Branchidae. What the\nHellenistic architects did was to think out consecutive schemes of city\nplanning, in which the dominant motive of arrangement was artistic. They\nhad learnt to treat the temples, the public buildings, the open spaces\nand approaches, as the elements of one harmonious composition, in which\nthe utmost use was made of the natural opportunities of the site. At\nEphesus, for example, there is supposed to have existed a consecutive\nscheme, larger than anything of the kind carried out even in France in\nthe eighteenth century, though the evidence, it should be noted, is\nlargely conjectural. As presented by sanguine and enthusiastic restorers\nthe scheme was magnificent. Next the port, and facing it on one side,\nwas the Arsenal, a regular building opening on to a court surrounded by\na colonnade, which again opened on to the great 'Place', a square\nenclosure some 850 ft. wide north and south, by 650 ft. east and\nwest,[142] surrounded by a colonnade on all four sides, with exhedrae,\nor semicircular recesses. In the centre of this Place was an oblong\nwater-piece, about 300 ft. by 200 ft., and on the farther side, opposite\nthe Arsenal buildings, were the Senate House and other public buildings;\nand behind these and to the right and left of them the Theatre and the\nStadium, partly excavated in Mount Coressus. The Arsenal, the great\nPlace with its water-piece, and the public buildings, were laid out on\nan axis line, and on a regular rectangulated plan.\n\n    [142] The Place Vend\u00f4me measures 450 ft. \u00d7 420 ft.; Grosvenor Square\n    about 650 \u00d7 530; and Lincoln's Inn Fields about 800 \u00d7 630, measured\n    from wall to wall of buildings.\n\nA scheme such as this (if it is possible to accept a conjectural\nrestoration), thought out in all its bearings, meant a real advance in\nthe range of architecture. It is useless to look for the faultless\nbeauty of the fifth century, but the resourcefulness and skill of the\nHellenistic architects gave a new meaning to the art; and indeed they\nmight almost be said to have established the first stage in the\ndevelopment of its modern practice. It was from these able Hellenistic\narchitects that the Romans learnt the monumental planning of their\ncities, and for centuries the architects most frequently employed were\nGreeks of Asia Minor. At this point, Hellenistic architecture merges\ninto Roman, and loses its distinctive character. Through Roman it passes\non to modern architecture, and so in a sense the chain is complete; but\nbetween this later art and pure Greek architecture there is a great gulf\nfixed, differences not only of technique but of outlook, of ideal, and\nof temperament. The mighty Doric of Paestum, Selinus, and Segesta, the\nTheseion and the Parthenon, remains for all time the perfect expression\nof the soul of ancient Greece.\n\nIt is one of the ironies of history that when in the fifteenth and\nsixteenth centuries scholars and artists awoke to the fact that there\nhad been a great architecture in the past they should have known of no\nother version of it but the Roman. What splendid developments might have\nfollowed if the finer spirits of the Renaissance, Alberti, Bramante, or\nPeruzzi, had founded their theories of architecture on the temples of\nSicily and Magna Graecia, instead of on the debased examples of Imperial\nRome! They, at least, would have caught a glimpse of the beauty of\nabstract form and perfect harmony, the secret of which seems to have\nbeen revealed to the Greeks alone among the peoples of the world--and to\nthem for only a transient period of their history. Unfortunately, when\nGreek architecture was discovered in the second half of the eighteenth\ncentury, it became the shibboleth of the 'virtuosi'. The national\ntraditions, both of France and England, were lost, Greek architecture\nbecame the fashion, and the misguided enthusiasm of pedants and\namateurs insisted on literal reproductions which completed the\nextinction of architecture as a vernacular art, and replaced it by the\nseries of revivalisms from which it has suffered for the last one\nhundred and fifty years. Conscious and deliberate tinkering with the art\nof architecture ended by destroying it.\n\nWe can never hope to revive Greek architecture, nor should we attempt to\ndo so. There was once a well-known Scotch architect who held that the\ncolumn and the lintel was the only permissible form of construction, and\nwith this limitation and ill-selected Greek details he produced some\nfantastically ugly buildings. Following a similar line of thought a\nfamous critic of the last century condemned methods of construction not\nsanctioned by the Old Testament. Both were wide of the mark; because,\nabove and beyond all technical details of architecture is the spirit in\nwhich it is approached, the intellectual outlook of the artist on his\nart, and this may express itself in widely differing forms. In Greek\narchitecture of the Golden period, that outlook was definite and\ndistinctive, and it was one that has a very urgent lesson for us to-day.\nThe aim and ideal of the Greek was beauty of form, and this beauty,\nwhich he sought in the first instance as the expression of his religion,\nultimately became almost a religion in itself. To the realization of\nthis ideal he devoted all his powers, sparing himself no pains in\nchastening his work till it had attained the utmost perfection possible.\nHe merged himself in this work, without thought of the expression of\nhimself in his vision of a divine and immutable beauty. It hardly\noccurred to him that his individual emotions were worth preserving. (In\nthe sculpture of the great period the expression of the face is usually\none of unruffled calm.) Although religious emotion was the source and\ninspiration of his work, his work was impersonal. He was aloof from that\nfeverish anxiety for self-revelation which has made much modern art so\ninteresting pathologically, and so detestable otherwise. Nor again had\nhe anything of the virtuoso about him. To him technique was not an end\nin itself. In Hellenistic art it became so, but not in the Golden Age.\nIndeed, he was sometimes almost careless of exact modelling, and in\narchitecture he did not use the order as a mere exhibition of\nscholarship. In his search for beautiful form, he stood upon the ancient\nways, patient and serene, moving steadily to his appointed end. 'Ainsi\nproc\u00e8de le g\u00e9nie grec, moins soucieux du nouveau que du mieux, il\nreporte vers l'\u00e9puration des formes l'activit\u00e9 que d'autres d\u00e9pensent en\ninnovations souvent st\u00e9riles, jusqu'\u00e0 ce qu'enfin il atteigne l'exquise\nmesure dans les efforts, et dans les expressions l'absolue\njustesse.'[143] There have been rare periods since, when Architecture\nhas moved with the same calm unhesitating purpose, Gothic architecture,\nfor example, in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and certain phases\nof eighteenth-century architecture in France and England, when tradition\nwas still active and vital, and artists were content to let well alone.\n\n    [143] Choisy, _History of Architecture_, vol. i, p. 298.\n\nModern conditions seem to be wholly against the Greek standpoint in art.\nThe Arts are in the melting-pot, the old standards of attainment are\ntrampled under foot, and the prophets prophesy falsely. Quite lately we\nwere asked to find our inspiration in the fetishes of the Gold Coast,\nand if the aim of the artist is to outstrip his brethren in brutality,\nthe advice is sound. A recent critic justified the antics of certain\nartists by the necessity they were under of advertising themselves.\nThat, no doubt, is the readiest way to immediate success. But the\nquestion for the critic is, not the personal advancement of the artist\nbut the value of his work; and one would ask if any good work at any\nperiod in the history of art has been inspired by this ambition to shout\nlouder than one's neighbours. Certainly, the standpoint of the Greek was\nthe exact opposite. He did not seek advertisement and notoriety. He was\nhappy with his inner vision of beauty, and intent only on its\nrealization. He had not the smallest desire to shock or startle any\none. There are occasions when shock tactics are necessary, but they are\nnot necessary every day in the week, nor is it necessary to make a clean\nsweep of the past before one sets to work in one's own little corner of\nart.\n\nWhat is wanted in modern art is some consciousness of this old Greek\nspirit, some recognition of its value. The Greeks of the age of Pericles\nwanted neither revivalism nor revolution; they moved forward, without\nhaste or anxiety, on traditional lines, and they were able to do so\nbecause their art was so interwoven with their life that, in the plastic\narts, they could no more have changed their methods of expression than\nthey could have changed their manner of speech. That high outlook on\nlife is lost and hardly to be recovered under modern conditions of\nsocial life and political government. It was perhaps only possible under\nthe true democracy of the small Greek city state, when every citizen\ntook his share in the ordered life of the community. Yet the Greek ideal\nremains. In our fitful fever of honest intention and wrong judgement,\nhigh endeavour and point-blank commercialism, Greek art, the art of\nPheidias and Ictinus, is still the wise mother to whom we must return.\nThe lesson of the Parthenon is the lesson of a steadfast vision of\nbeauty, held high above individual effort and failure, realizing itself\nnot in complex detail or calculated eccentricity, but in a serene and\nexquisite simplicity of form. It teaches us that in the arts there are\nno short cuts, and that anarchy, the destruction of what has been won\nfor us in the past, is not advance but the straight road to the\nbottomless pit of barbarism. Instead of repudiating the work of his\nfathers, the Greek carried it on to its perfection, and built his palace\nof art on a sure foundation because he turned neither to the right hand\nnor to the left, but steadily set his face towards the light.\n\nREGINALD BLOMFIELD.\n\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+\n  | Transcriber's Notes and Errata                               |\n  |                                                              |\n  | Greek text is followed by the transliterated version in      |\n  | braces.                                                      |\n  |                                                              |\n  | The following typographical errors have been corrected.      |\n  |                                                              |\n  |     Error      Correction                                    |\n  |     back       black                                         |\n  |     stedfast   steadfast                                     |\n  |                                                              |\n  | The following words are found in hyphenated and unhyphenated |\n  | forms in the text. The numbers of instances are given in     |\n  | parentheses.                                                 |\n  |                                                              |\n  |     cuttle-fish (2)      cuttlefish (1)                      |\n  |     fresh-water (1)      freshwater (1)                      |\n  |     pre-occupation (4)   preoccupation (1)                   |\n  |                          preoccupations (1)                  |\n  |     re-arranging (1)     rearranging (1)                     |\n  |     re-discovery (2)     rediscovery (3)                     |\n  |     super-men (1)        supermen (1)                        |\n  |     super-women (1)      superwomen (1)                      |\n  |     text-book (5)        textbook (2)                        |\n  |     text-books (2)       textbooks (3)                       |\n  +--------------------------------------------------------------+","title":"The Legacy of Greece: Essays By: Gilbert Murray, W. R. Inge, J. Burnet, Sir T. L. Heath, D'arcy W. Thompson, Charles Singer, R. W. Livingston, A. Toynbee, A. E. Zimmern, Percy Gardner, Sir Reginald Blomfield","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":144555}