{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_47157/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_47157","id":"gutenberg_47157","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47157","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Ancient","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Greek poetry -- History and criticism"],"text":"STUDIES\n\nOF\n\nTHE GREEK POETS\n\n\nBY\n\nJOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS\n\nAUTHOR OF \"SKETCHES AND STUDIES IN SOUTHERN EUROPE\" ETC.\n\n    _Im Ganzen, Guten, Sch\u00f6nen_\n    _Resolut zu leben_\n\nIN TWO VOLUMES\n\nVOL. I.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNEW YORK\n\nHARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS\n\nFRANKLIN SQUARE\n\n1880\n\nTO\n\nHENRY GRAHAM DAKYNS\n\n~I Dedicate these Volumes~\n\nIN MEMORY OF COMMON INTERESTS, JOINT STUDIES, AND\nSIXTEEN YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION.\n\n\nThe studies of Greek Poets, now reprinted, appeared in England in two\nseries, published at an interval of three or four years. In preparing\nthis edition, I have rearranged the chapters of both series in their\nproper order, and have made certain additions, with the view of\nrendering the book more complete as a survey of Greek Poetry. Thus I\nhave inserted several new translations in the chapters on the Lyric\nPoets and the Anthology. The criticism of Euripides has been enlarged,\nand the concluding chapter has been, in a great measure, rewritten.\nEach chapter has undergone such revision and alteration in minor\ndetails as might remove unnecessary repetitions and bring the whole\nseries of essays into harmony. At the same time I have judged it\ninexpedient to introduce radical changes into a book which professes\nto be the reprint of volumes already known to the English public. For\nthis reason the chapters which deal with the Greek Tragedians have been\nleft substantially in their original form, and bear upon their face the\nrecord of their composition as almost independent essays.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. I.\n\n\n                              CHAPTER I.\n\n                  _THE PERIODS OF GREEK LITERATURE._\n\n    Language and Mythology.--The Five Chief Periods of\n    Greek Literature. The First Period: Homer--Religion and\n    State of the Homeric Age--Achilles and Ulysses.--Second\n    Period: Transition--Breaking-up of the Homeric\n    Monarchies--Colonization--the Nomothet\u00e6--Ionians\n    and Dorians--Development of Elegiac, Iambic, Lyric\n    Poetry--Beginning of Philosophy.--Third Period: Athenian\n    Supremacy--Philosophy at Athens--the Fine Arts--the\n    Drama--History--Sparta and Athens--Pericles and\n    Anaxagoras.--Fourth Period: Hegemony of Sparta--Enslavement of\n    Hellas--Demosthenes--Alexander and Achilles--Aristotle--the\n    Hellenization of the East--Menander--the Orators.--Fifth\n    Period: Decline and Decay--Greek Influence upon the\n    World--Alexandria--the Sciences--Theocritus--the University of\n    Athens--Sophistic Literature--Byzantium--Hellas and Christendom\n                                                                Page 13\n\n                              CHAPTER II.\n\n                             _MYTHOLOGY._\n\n    The Notion of a Systematic Pantheon.--Homer and\n    Hesiod.--Mythology before Homer.--Supposed Conditions of the\n    Mythopoeic Age.--Vico.--The Childhood of the World.--Goethe's\n    Boyhood.--Mythology is a Body of Rudimentary Thought,\n    Penetrated with the Spirit of the Nation.--Different\n    Views of the Greek Myths.--Grote.--Relics of a Primitive\n    Revelation.--The Symbolic Hypothesis.--Rationalism and\n    Euhemerus.--Fetichism.--Poetic Theory.--The Linguistic\n    Theory.--Comparative Philology.--Solar Theory.--The\n    Myth of Herakles: its Solar Interpretation--its Ethical\n    Significance.--Summary of the Points Suggested with\n    Regard to Mythology.--Medi\u00e6val Myths.--The Action of\n    the Greek Intelligence upon Mythology: in Art--in\n    Philosophy.--Persistence of the National Polytheism.--Homer\n    Allegorized at Alexandria.--Triumph of Christianity.--The Greek\n    Pantheon in the Middle Ages.--Greek Mythology Recovers Poetic\n    and Artistic Value in the Renaissance                        Page 51\n\n                             CHAPTER III.\n\n                              _ACHILLES._\n\n    Unity of _Iliad_.--Character of Achilles.--Structure of\n    the whole Poem.--Comparison with other Epics.--Energy\n    Dividing into Anger and Love.--Personality of\n    Achilles.--The Quarrel with Agamemnon.--Pallas Athene.--The\n    Embassy.--Achilles' Foreknowledge of his Death.--The Message\n    of Antilochus.--Interview with Thetis.--The Shouting\n    in the Trench.--The Speech of Xanthus.--The P\u00e6an over\n    Hector's Corpse.--The Ghost of Patroclus.--The Funeral\n    Obsequies of Patroclus.--Achilles and Priam.--Achilles in\n    Hades.--Achilles Considered as a Greek Ideal.--Friendship\n    among the Greeks.--Heroism and Knighthood: Ancient and Modern\n    Chivalry.--The _Myrmidones_ of \u00c6schylus.--Achilles and\n    Hector.--Alexander the Great.--The D\u00e6monic Nature of Achilles\n                                                                Page 91\n\n                              CHAPTER IV.\n\n                         _THE WOMEN OF HOMER._\n\n    Helen of Troy--Her Eternal Youth--Variety of Legends\n    connected with her.--Stesichorus.--Helen in the\n    _Iliad_.--Helen in the _Odyssey_.--The Treatment of Helen\n    by \u00c6schylus.--Euripidean Handling of her Romance.--Helen\n    in Greek Art.--Quintus Smyrn\u00e6us.--Apollonius of Tyana and\n    the Ghost of Achilles.--Helen in the Faust Legend.--Marlowe\n    and Goethe.--Penelope--Her Home-love.--Calypso and\n    the Isle Ogygia.--Circe.--The Homeric and the Modern\n    Circe.--Nausicaa--Her Perfect Girlishness.--Briseis and\n    Andromache.--The Sense of Proportion and of Relative Distance\n    in Homer's Pictures.--Andromache and Astyanax.--The Cult of\n    Heroes and Heroines in Greece.--Artistic Presentation of\n    Homeric Persons.--Philostratus                              Page 124\n\n                              CHAPTER V.\n\n                               _HESIOD._\n\n    The Difference between the Homeric and the Hesiodic\n    Spirit.--The Personality of Hesiod more Distinct than that of\n    Homer.--What we Know about his Life.--Perses.--The Hesiodic\n    Rhapsodes.--_Theogony_ and _Works and Days_.--Didactic\n    Poetry.--The Story of Prometheus.--Greek and Hebrew Myths\n    of the Fall.--The Allegorical Element in the Promethean\n    Legend.--The Titans.--The Canto of the Four Ages.--Hesiodic\n    Ethics.--The Golden Age.--Flaxman's Illustrations.--Justice\n    and Virtue.--Labor.--Bourgeois Tone of Hesiod.--Marriage and\n    Women.--The Gnomic Importance of Hesiod for the Early Greeks\n                                                               Page 161\n\n                              CHAPTER VI.\n\n                             _PARMENIDES._\n\n    Greek Philosophical Poetry.--The Emergence of\n    Philosophy from Mythology.--The Ionian Sages.--The\n    Pythagoreans.--Anaxagoras.--Democritus.--The\n    Eleatics.--Heraclitus.--Xenophanes of Colophon.--His\n    Critique of the Myths.--Assertion of Monotheism.--Fragments\n    of his Poem on Nature.--Parmenides of Elea.--His Political\n    Importance.--Parmenides in the Dialogues of Plato.--His\n    Metaphysic of Being.--His Natural Philosophy.--The Logic\n    Deduced from him by Zeno and Melissus.--Translation of\n    the Fragments of his Poem.--The Dualism of Truth and\n    Opinion.--Impossibility of Obtaining Absolute Knowledge     Page 185\n\n                             CHAPTER VII.\n\n                             _EMPEDOCLES._\n\n    The Grandeur of his Fame.--His Versatility of Genius.--His\n    Mysticism.--His Supposed Miracles.--Legends about his\n    Death.--His Political Action.--His Poems.--Estimation in which\n    the Ancients held them.--Their Prophetic Fervor.--Belief in\n    Metempsychosis.--Purifying Rites.--Contempt for the Knowledge\n    of the Senses.--Physical Theories.--The Poem on Nature.--The\n    Four Elements.--The Sph\u00e6rus.--Love and Discord.--The\n    Eclecticism of Empedocles                                   Page 207\n\n                             CHAPTER VIII.\n\n                          _THE GNOMIC POETS._\n\n    Definition of the Term Gnomic.--The Elegiac Metre.--The\n    Age of the Despots in Greece.--Three Periods in\n    Elegiac Poetry: the Martial, the Erotic, the\n    Gnomic.--Callinus.--Tyrt\u00e6us.--Mimnermus.--His Epicurean\n    Philosophy of Life.--Solon.--The Salaminian Verses.--Doctrine\n    of Hereditary Guilt.--Greek Melancholy.--Phocylides.--His\n    Bourgeois Intellect.--Xenophanes.--Theognis.--The Politics\n    of Megara.--Cyrnus.--Precepts upon Education and Conduct in\n    Public and Private Life.--The Biography of Theognis.--Dorian\n    Clubs.--Lamentations over the Decay of Youth and Beauty     Page 236\n\n                              CHAPTER IX.\n\n                           _THE SATIRISTS._\n\n    Invention of the Iambic Metre.--Archilochus.--His Parentage\n    and Life.--His Fame among the Ancients.--Ancient and Modern\n    Modes of Judging Artists.--The Originality of Archilochus as a\n    Poet.--Simonides of Amorgos.--His Satire on Women.--The Ionian\n    Contempt for Women.--Hipponax.--Limping Iambics.--Differences\n    between the Satire of the Greeks and Romans                 Page 274\n\n                              CHAPTER X.\n\n                          _THE LYRIC POETS._\n\n    The \u00c6sthetic Instinct of the Greeks in their\n    Choice of Metres.--Different Species of\n    Lyrical Poetry.--The Fragments in Bergk's\n    Collection.--Proemia.--Prosodia.--Parthenia.--P\u00e6an.--Hyporchem.--\n    Dithyramb.--Phallic Hymn.--Epinikia.--Threnoi.--Scolia.--\u00c6olian\n    and Dorian Lyrists.--The Flourishing Period of\n    Lesbos.--Sappho.--Alc\u00e6us.--Anacreon.--Nationality\n    of the Dorian Lyrists.--Spartan\n    Education.--Alcman.--Arion.--Stesichorus.--Ibycus.--Simonides.--Greek\n    Troubadours.--Style of Simonides.--Pindar.--Later Literary Odes\n                                                               Page 287\n\n                              CHAPTER XI.\n\n                               _PINDAR._\n\n    His Life.--Legends connected with him.--The Qualities of\n    his Poetry.--The Olympic Games.--Pindar's Professional\n    Character.--His Morality.--His Religious Belief.--Doctrine of a\n    Future State.--Rewards and Punishments.--The Structure of his\n    Odes.--The Proemia to his Odes.--His Difficulty and Tumidity of\n    Style                                                       Page 340\n\n                             CHAPTER XII.\n\n                              _\u00c6SCHYLUS._\n\n    Life of \u00c6schylus.--Nature of his Inspiration.--The\n    Theory of Art in the _Ion_ of Plato.--\u00c6schylus and\n    Sophocles.--What \u00c6schylus accomplished for the Attic\n    Drama.--His Demiurgic Genius.--Colossal Scale of his\n    Work.--Marlowe.--Oriental Imagery.--Absence of Love\n    as a Motive in his Plays.--The Organic Vitality of\n    his Art.--Opening Scenes.--Messenger.--Chorus.--His\n    Theology.--Destiny in \u00c6schylus.--The Domestic Curse.--His\n    Character-drawing.--Clytemnestra.--Difficulty of Dealing\n    with the _Prometheus_.--What was his Fault?--How was\n    Zeus justified?--Shelley's Opinion.--The Last Trilogy of\n    _Prometheus_.--Middle Plays in Trilogies.--Attempt to\n    Reconstruct a _Prometheis_.--The Part of Herakles.--Obscurity\n    of the Promethean Legend.--The Free Handling of Myths\n    Permitted to the Dramatist.--The _Oresteia_.--Its\n    Subject.--The Structure of the Three Plays.--The\n    _Agamemnon_.---Its Imagery.--Cassandra.--The Cry of the\n    King.--The Chorus.--Iphigeneia at the Altar.--Menelaus\n    abandoned by Helen.--The Dead Soldiers on the Plains of\n    Troy.--The _Pers\u00e6_.--The Crime of Xerxes.--Irony of the\n    Situation.--Description of the Battle of Salamis.--The Style of\n    \u00c6schylus.--His Religious Feeling 372\n\n                             CHAPTER XIII.\n\n                             _SOPHOCLES._\n\n    The Personal Beauty of Sophocles: his Life; Stories about\n    him.--Athens in the Age of Pericles.--Antique Criticism\n    on his Style: its Perfect Harmony.--Aristotle's Respect\n    for Sophocles.--Character in Greek Tragedy.--Sophocles\n    and \u00c6schylus.--The Religious Feeling of Sophocles.--His\n    Ethics.--Exquisite Proportion observed in his Treatment\n    of the _Dramatis Person\u00e6_.--Power of Using Motives.--The\n    _Philoctetes_.--Comparison of the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ and the\n    _Electra_.--Climax of the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_.--How Sophocles\n    led onward to Euripides.--The _Trachini\u00e6_.--Goethe's\n    Remarks on the _Antigone_.--The Tale of Thebes.--_Oedipus\n    Tyrannus_, _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_, and _Antigone_ do not make up\n    a Trilogy.--Story of Laius.--The Philosophy of Fate contained\n    in it.--The Oracle.--Analysis of _Oedipus Tyrannus_.--Masterly\n    Treatment of the Character of Oedipus.--Change of\n    Situation in the _Colone\u00fcs_.--Emergence of Antigone into\n    Prominence.--Analysis of the Antigone.--The Character of\n    Antigone: its Beauty.--Contrast afforded by Ismene and by\n    Creon.--Fault in the Climax of the _Antigone_.--The Final\n    Solution of the Laian Curse.--Antigone is not Subject to\n    Nemesis                                                     Page 436\n\n                            THE GREEK POETS\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n_THE PERIODS OF GREEK LITERATURE._\n\n    Language and Mythology.--The Five Chief Periods of Greek\n        Literature. The First Period: Homer--Religion and State\n        of the Homeric Age--Achilles and Ulysses.--Second\n        Period: Transition--Breaking-up of the Homeric\n        Monarchies--Colonization--the Nomothet\u00e6--Ionians\n        and Dorians--Development of Elegiac, Iambic, Lyric\n        Poetry--Beginning of Philosophy.--Third Period:\n        Athenian Supremacy--Philosophy at Athens--the Fine\n        Arts--the Drama--History--Sparta and Athens--Pericles\n        and Anaxagoras.--Fourth Period: Hegemony of\n        Sparta--Enslavement of Hellas--Demosthenes--Alexander\n        and Achilles--Aristotle--the Hellenization of the\n        East--Menander--the Orators.--Fifth Period: Decline and\n        Decay--Greek Influence upon the World--Alexandria--the\n        Sciences--Theocritus--the University of Athens--Sophistic\n        Literature--Byzantium--Hellas and Christendom.\n\n\nThe most fascinating problems of history are veiled as closely from\nour curiosity as the statue of Egyptian Isis. Nothing is known for\ncertain about the emergence from primitive barbarism of the great\nraces, or about the determination of national characteristics.\nAnalogies may be adduced from the material world; but the mysteries\nof organized vitality remain impenetrable. What made the Jew a Jew,\nthe Greek a Greek, is as unexplained as what daily causes the germs of\nan oak and of an ash to produce different trees. All we know is that\nin the vague and infinitely distant past races were nourished into\nform and individuality by the varied operation of those unreckoned\nsympathies which attach man to nature, his primitive mother. But the\nlaws of that rudimentary growth are still unknown; \"the abysmal deeps\nof personality\" in nations as in men remain unsounded: we cannot even\nexperimentalize upon the process of ethnical development.\n\nThose mighty works of art which we call languages, in the construction\nof which whole peoples unconsciously co-operated, the forms of which\nwere determined not by individual genius, but by the instincts of\nsuccessive generations, acting to one end, inherent in the nature of\nthe race--those poems of pure thought and fancy, cadenced not in words,\nbut in living imagery, fountain-heads of inspiration, mirrors of the\nmind of nascent nations, which we call Mythologies--these surely are\nmore marvellous in their infantine spontaneity than any more mature\nproduction of the races which evolved them. Yet we are utterly ignorant\nof their embryology: the true science of Origins is as yet scarcely in\nits cradle.\n\nExperimental philologers may analyze what remains of early languages,\nmay trace their connections and their points of divergence, may\nclassify and group them. But the nature of the organs of humanity\nwhich secreted them is unknown, the problem of their vital structure\nis insoluble. Antiquarian theorists may persuade us that myths are\ndecayed, disintegrated, dilapidated phrases, the meaning of which had\nbeen lost to the first mythopoeists. But they cannot tell us how these\nsplendid flowers, springing upon the rich soil of rotting language,\nexpressed in form and color to the mental eye the thoughts and\naspirations of whole races, and presented a measure of the faculties to\nbe developed during long ages of expanding civilization. If the boy is\nfather of the man, myths are the parents of philosophies, religions,\npolities.\n\nTo those unknown artists of the prehistoric age, to the\nlanguage-builders and myth-makers, architects of cathedrals not raised\nwith hands, but with the spirit of man, for humanity to dwell therein,\npoets of the characters of nations, sculptors of the substance of the\nvery soul, melodists who improvised the themes upon which subsequent\ncenturies have written variations, we ought to erect our noblest\nstatues and our grandest temples. The work of these first artificers\nis more astonishing in its unconsciousness, more effective in its\nspontaneity, than are the deliberate and calculated arts of sculptor,\npainter, poet, philosopher, and lawgiver of the historic periods.\n\nSome such reflections as these are the natural prelude to the study of\na literature like that of the Greeks. Language and mythology form the\nvestibules and outer courts to Homer, Pheidias, Lycurgus.\n\nIt is common to divide the history of Greek literature into three chief\nperiods: the first embracing the early growth of poetry and prose\nbefore the age in which Athens became supreme in Hellas--that is,\nanterior to about 480 B.C.; the second coinciding with the brilliant\nmaturity of Greek genius during the supremacy of Athens--that is,\nfrom the termination of the Persian war to the age of Alexander; the\nthird extending over the decline and fall of the Greek spirit after\nAlexander's death--that is, from B.C. 323, and onwards, to the final\nextinction of Hellenic civilization. There is much to be said in favor\nof this division. Indeed, Greek history falls naturally into these\nthree sections. But a greater degree of accuracy may be attained by\nbreaking up the first and last of these divisions, so as to make five\nperiods instead of three. After having indicated these five periods in\noutline, we will return to the separate consideration of them in detail\nand in connection with the current of Greek history.\n\nThe first may be termed the Heroic, or Prehistoric, or Legendary\nperiod. It ends with the first Olympiad, B.C. 776, and its chief\nmonuments are the epics of Homer and Hesiod. The second is a period\nof transition from the heroic or epical to that of artistic maturity\nin all the branches of literature. In this stage history, properly\nso called, begins. The Greeks try their strength in several branches\nof composition. Lyrical, satirical, moral, and philosophical poetry\nsupplant the epic. Prose is cultivated. The first foundations of the\ndrama are laid. The earliest attempts at science emerge from the\ncriticism of old mythologies. The whole mind of the race is in a\nferment, and, for the moment, effort and endeavor are more apparent\nthan mastery and achievement. This period extends from B.C. 776\nto B.C. 477, the date of the Athenian league. The third period is\nthat of the Athenian supremacy. Whatever is great in Hellas is now\nconcentrated upon Athens. Athens, after her brilliant activity during\nthe Persian war, wins the confidence and assumes the leadership of\nGreece. Athens is the richest, grandest, most liberal, most cultivated,\nmost enlightened state of Hellas. To Athens flock all the poets and\nhistorians and philosophers. The drama attains maturity in her theatre.\nPhilosophy takes its true direction from Anaxagoras and Socrates.\nThe ideal of history is realized by Thucydides. Oratory flourishes\nunder the great statesmen and the demagogues of the republic. During\nthe brief but splendid ascendency of Athens, all the masterpieces\nof Greek literature are simultaneously produced with marvellous\nrapidity. Fixing 413 B.C. as the date of the commencement of Athenian\ndecline, our fourth period, which terminates in B.C. 323 with the\ndeath of Alexander, is again one of transition. The second period was\ntransitional from adolescence to maturity. The fourth is transitional\nfrom maturity to old age. The creative genius of the Greeks is now\nless active. We have, indeed, the great names of Plato, Aristotle, and\nDemosthenes to give splendor to this stage of national existence;\nbut the sceptre has passed away from the Greek nation proper. Their\nprotagonist, Athens, is in slavery. The civilization which they\nhad slowly matured, and which at Athens had been reflected in the\nmasterpieces of art and literature, is now spread abroad and scattered\nover the earth. Asia and Egypt are Hellenized. The Greek spirit is\nless productive than it has been; but it is not less vigorous. It\nstill asserts itself as the greatest in the world; but it does so\nrelying more upon its past acquirements than on any seeds of power that\nremain to be developed in the future. The fifth period, the longest\nof all, is one of decline and decay. It extends from B.C. 323 to the\nfinal extinction of classical civilization. Two chief centres occupy\nour attention--Athens, where the traditions of art and philosophy\nyet linger, where the Stoics and Epicureans and the sages of the New\nAcademy still educate the world and prepare a _nidus_ for the ethics\nof Christianity; and Alexandria, where physical science is cultivated\nunder the Ptolemies, where mystical theology flourishes in the schools\nof the Neoplatonists, where libraries are formed and the labor of\nliterary criticism is conducted on a gigantic scale, but where nothing\nnew is produced except the single, most beautiful flower of idyllic\npoetry and some few epigrams. In this fifth period, Rome and Byzantium,\nwhere the Greek spirit, still vital, overlives its natural decay upon a\nforeign soil, close the scene.\n\nIn these five periods--periods of superb adolescence, early manhood,\nmagnificent maturity, robust old age, and senility--we can trace the\ngenius of the Greeks putting forth its vigor in successive works of\nart and literature, concentrating its energy at first upon its own\nself-culture, then extending its influence in every direction, and\ncontrolling the education of humanity, finally contenting itself\nwith pondering and poring on its past, with mystical metaphysics and\npedantic criticism. Yet even in its extreme decadence the Hellenic\nspirit is still potent. It still assimilates, transmutes, and\nalchemizes what it works upon. Coming into contact with the new and\nmightier genius of Christianity, it forces even that first-born of\nthe Deity to take form from itself. One dying effort of the Greek\nintellect, if we may so speak, is to formulate the dogma of the\nTrinity and to impress the doctrine of the Logos upon the author of\nthe Gospel of St. John. The analogy between the history of a race so\nundisturbed in its development as the Greek, and the life of a man,\nis not altogether fanciful. A man like Goethe, beautiful in soul and\nbody, exceedingly strong and swift and active and inquisitive in all\nthe movements of his spirit, first lives the life of the senses and of\nphysical enjoyment. His soul, \"immersed in rich foreshadowings of the\nworld,\" has scarcely begun to think consciously in the first period.\nBut he feels the glory of existence, the strivings of inexhaustible\nenergy, the desire of infinite expansion. The second period is one\nof _Sturm und Drang_. New things are learned: much of the beautiful\nphysical activity is sacrificed; he discovers that life involves care\nand responsibility as well as pleasure; he concentrates his mental\nfaculty on hard and baffling study, in which at first he halts and\nfalters. Then he goes forth to the world and wins great fame, and\ndoes the deeds and thinks the thoughts by which he shall be known to\nall posterity. His physical and mental faculties are now in perfect\nharmony; together they offer him the noblest and most enduring\npleasures. But after a while his productiveness begins to dwindle.\nHe has put forth his force, has fully expressed himself, has matured\nhis principles, has formed his theory of the world. Our fourth period\ncorresponds to the early old age of such a man's life. He now applies\nhis principles, propagates his philosophy, subordinates his fancy,\nproduces less, enjoys with more sobriety and less exhilaration, bears\nburdens, suffers disappointments, yet still, as Solon says, \"learns\nalways as he grows in years.\" Then comes the fifth stage. He who was\nso vigorous and splendid now has but little joy in physical life; his\nbrain is dry and withering; he dwells on his old thoughts, and has no\nfaculty for generating new ones; yet his soul contains deep mines of\nwisdom; he gives counsel and frames laws for younger generations. And\nso he gradually sinks into the grave. His acts remain: his life is\nwritten.\n\nThe great name of Homer covers the whole of the first period of Greek\nliterature.[1] It is from the Homeric poems alone that we can form\na picture to our imagination of the state of society in prehistoric\nHellas. The picture which they present is so lively in its details,\nand so consistent in all its parts, that we have no reason to suspect\nthat it was drawn from fancy. Its ideal, as distinguished from merely\nrealistic, character is obvious. The poet professes to sing to us of\nheroes who were of the seed of gods, whose strength exceeded tenfold\nthe strength of actual men, and who filled the world with valiant\ndeeds surpassing all that their posterity achieved. Yet, in spite of\nthis, the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ may be taken as faithful mirrors\nof a certain phase of Greek society, just as the _Niebelungen Lied_,\nthe romances of Charlemagne, and the tales of the Round Table reflect\nthree stages in the history of feudalism. We find that in this\nearliest period of Greek history the nation was governed by monarchs\neach of whom claimed descent from a god. Thus the kings exercised\ntheir power over the people by divine right; but at the same time a\nnecessary condition of their maintaining this supremacy was that they\nshould be superior in riches, lands, personal bravery, and wisdom.\nTheir subjects obeyed them, not merely because they were #Diogeneis#,\nor because they were fathers of the people, but also, and chiefly,\nbecause they were the ablest men, the men fitted by nature to rule,\nthe men who could be depended upon in an emergency. The king had\njust so much personal authority as he had ability to acquire or to\nassert. As soon as this ability failed, the sceptre departed from\nhim. Thus Laertes overlives his royalty; and the suitors of Penelope,\nfancying that Ulysses is dead, take no heed of Telemachus, who ought\nto rule in his stead, because Telemachus is a mere lad; but as soon\nas the hero returns, and proves his might by stringing the bow, the\nsuitors are slain like sheep. Again, Achilles, while acknowledging\nthe sway of Agamemnon, quarrels with him openly, proving his equality\nand right to such independence as he can assert for himself. The bond\nbetween the king in the heroic age and his chieftains was founded on\nthe personal superiority of the suzerain, and upon the necessity felt\nfor the predominance of one individual in warfare and council. The\nchiefs were grouped around the monarch like the twelve peers round\nCharlemagne, or like the barons whose turbulence Shakespeare has\ndescribed in _Richard II._ The relation of the Homeric sovereign to his\nprinces was, in fact, a feudal one. Olympus repeats the same form of\ngovernment. There Zeus is monarch simply because he wields the thunder.\nWhen Her\u00e8 wishes to rebel, Heph\u00e6stus advises her to submit, because\nZeus can root up the world, or hurl them all from the crystal parapet\nof heaven. Such, then, is the society of kings and princes in Homer.\nThey stand forth in brilliant relief against the background, gray and\nmisty, of the common people. The masses of the nation, like the chorus\nin tragedy, kneel passive, deedless, appealing to Heaven, trembling at\nthe strokes of fate, watching with anxiety the action of the heroes.\nMeanwhile the heroes enact their drama for themselves. They assume\nresponsibility. They do and suffer as their passions sway them. Of\nthese the greatest, the most truly typical, is Achilles. In Achilles,\nHomer summed up and fixed forever the ideal of the Greek character. He\npresented an imperishable picture of their national youthfulness, and\nof their ardent genius, to the Greeks. The \"beautiful human heroism\"\nof Achilles, his strong personality, his fierce passions controlled\nand tempered by divine wisdom, his intense friendship and love that\npassed the love of women, above all, the splendor of his youthful life\nin death made perfect, hovered like a dream above the imagination of\nthe Greeks, and insensibly determined their subsequent development. At\na later age, this ideal was destined to be realized in Alexander. The\nreality fell below the ideal: for _rien n'est si beau que la fable, si\ntriste que la v\u00e9rit\u00e9_. But the life of Alexander is the most convincing\nproof of the importance of Achilles in the history of the Greek race.\n\nIf Achilles be the type of the Hellenic genius--radiant, adolescent,\npassionate--as it still dazzles us in its artistic beauty and\nunrivalled physical energy, Ulysses is no less a true portrait of the\nGreek as known to us in history--stern in action, ruthless in his\nhatred, pitiless in his hostility, subtle, vengeful, cunning; yet at\nthe same time the most adventurous of men, the most persuasive in\neloquence, the wisest in counsel, the bravest and coolest in danger.\nThe _Gr\u00e6culus esuriens_ of Juvenal may be said to be the caricature in\nreal life of the idealized Ulysses. And what remains to the present\nday of the Hellenic genius in the so-called _Greek nation_ descends\nfrom Ulysses rather than Achilles. If the Homeric Achilles has the\nsuperiority of sculpturesque and dramatic splendor, the Homeric Ulysses\nexcels him on the ground of permanence of type.\n\nHomer, then, was the poet of the heroic age, the poet of Achilles and\nUlysses. Of Homer we know nothing, we have heard too much. Need we ask\nourselves again the question whether he existed, or whether he sprang\ninto the full possession of consummate art without a predecessor? That\nhe had no predecessors, no scattered poems and ballads to build upon,\nno well-digested body of myths to synthesize, is an absurd hypothesis\nwhich the whole history of literature refutes. That, on the other hand,\nthere never was a Homer--that is to say, that some diaskeuast, acting\nunder the orders of Pisistratus, gave its immortal outline to the\ncolossus of the _Iliad_, and wove the magic web of the _Odyssey_--but\nthat no supreme and conscious artist working towards a well-planned\nconclusion conceived and shaped these epics to the form they bear,\nappears to the spirit of sound criticism equally untenable. The very\nstatement of this alternative involves a contradiction in terms; for\nsuch a diaskeuast must himself have been a supreme and conscious\nartist. Some Homer did exist. Some great single poet intervened between\nthe lost chaos of legendary material and the cosmos of artistic beauty\nwhich we now possess. His work may have been tampered with in a\nthousand ways, and religiously but inadequately restored. Of his age\nand date and country we may know nothing. But this we do _know_, that\nthe fire of moulding, fusing, and controlling genius in some one brain\nhas made the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ what they are.[2]\n\nThe epic poet merges his personality in his poems, the words of which\nhe ascribes to the inspiration of the muse. The individual is nowhere,\nis forgotten in the subject and suppressed, while the luminous forms of\ngods and heroes move serenely across the stage, summoned and marshalled\nby the maidens of Helicon. In no other period of Greek literature shall\nwe find the same unconsciousness of self, the same immersion in the\nwork of art. In this respect the poetry of the heroic age answers to\nthe condition of prehistoric Hellas, where as yet the elements of the\nGreek race remain still implicit in the general mass and undeveloped.\nWe hear in Homer of no abrupt division between Dorians and Ionians.\nAthens and Sparta have not grown up into prominence as the two\nleaders of the nation. Argos is the centre of power; but Phthiotis,\nthe cradle of the Hellenes, is the home of Achilles. Ulysses is an\nislander. In the same way in Homer the art of the Greeks is still a\nmere potentiality. The artistic sentiment, indeed, exists in exquisite\nperfection; but it is germinal, not organized and expanded as it will\nbe. We hear of embroidery for royal garments, of goldsmith's work for\nshields and breastplates, of stained ivory trappings for chariots\nand horses. But even here the poet's imagination had probably outrun\nthe fact. What he saw with his fancy, could the heroic artisans have\nfashioned with their tools? Is not the shield of Achilles, like Dante's\npavement of the purgatorial staircase, a forecast of the future?\nArchitecture and sculpture, at any rate, can scarcely be said to exist.\nUlysses builds his own house. The statues of the gods are fetiches.\nBut, meanwhile, the foundation of the highest Greek art is being laid\nin the cultivation of the human body. The sentiment of beauty shows\nitself in dances and games, in the races of naked runners, in rhythmic\nprocessions, and the celebration of religious rites. This was the\nproper preparation for the after-growth of sculpture. The whole race\nlived out its sculpture and its painting, rehearsed, as it were, the\ngreat works of Pheidias and Polygnotus in physical exercise before it\nlearned to express itself in marble or in color. The public games,\nwhich were instituted in this first period, further contributed to the\ncultivation of the sense of beauty which was inherent in the Greeks.\n\nThe second period is one of transition--in politics, in literature, in\nthe fine arts. Everywhere the old landmarks are being broken up, and\nthe new ones are not yet fixed. The heroic monarchies yield first of\nall to oligarchies, and then to tyrannies; the tyrannies in their turn\ngive place to democracies, or to constitutional aristocracies. Argos,\nthe centre of heroic Hellas, is the first to change. Between 770 and\n730 B.C. Pheidon usurps the sovereign power, and dies, leaving no\ndynasty behind him.[3] Between 650 and 500 we find despots springing\nup in all the chief Greek cities. At Corinth the oligarchical family\nof the Bacchiad\u00e6 are superseded by the tyrants Cypselus and Periander.\nAt Megara the despot Theagenes is deposed and exiled. At Sicyon the\nOrthagorid\u00e6 terminate in the despot Cleisthenes, whose reign is marked\nby an attempt to supersede the ancient Doric order of government by\ncaste. At Mitylene, Pittacus becomes a constitutional autocrat, or\ndictator, for the public safety. At Samos, Polycrates holds a post of\nalmost Oriental despotism. At Athens we find the great family of the\nPisistratid\u00e6, who supersede the dynastic tyranny in commission of the\nhouse of Codrus. What is the meaning of these changes? How does the\ndespot differ from the heroic monarch, who held, as we have seen, his\npower by divine right, but who also had to depend for his ascendency on\npersonal prowess? Gradually the old respect for the seed of Zeus died\nout. Either the royal families abused their power or became extinct,\nor, as in the case of Athens and Sparta, retained hereditary privileges\nunder limitations. During this decay of the Zeus-born dynasties the\ncities of Greece were a prey to the quarrels of great families; and\nit often happened that one of these obtained supreme power--in which\ncase a monarchy, based not on divine right, but on force and fear, was\nfounded; or else a few of the chief houses combined against the State\nto establish an oligarchy. The oligarchies, owing their authority to\nno true, legal, or religious fount of honor, were essentially selfish,\nand were exposed to the encroachments of the more able among their\nown families. The cleverest man in an oligarchy tended to draw the\npower into his own hands; but in this he generally succeeded by first\nflattering and then intimidating the people. Thus in one way or another\nthe old type of dynastic government was superseded by despotisms, more\nor less arbitrary, tending to the tyranny of single individuals, or\nto the coalition of noble houses, and bringing with them the vices of\ngreed, craft, and servile cruelty. The political ferment caused a vast\npolitical excitement. Party strove against party; and when one set\ngained the upper hand, the other had to fly. The cities of Hellas were\nfilled with exiles. Diplomacy and criticism occupied the minds of men.\nPersonal cleverness became the one essential point in politics. But\ntwo permanent advantages were secured by this anarchy to the Greeks.\nThe one was a strong sense of the equality of citizens; the other, a\ndesire for established law, as opposed to the caprice of individuals\nand to the clash of factions in the State. This, then, is the first\npoint which marks the transitional period. The old monarchies break up,\nand give place to oligarchies first, and then to despotism. The tyrants\nmaintain themselves by violence and by flattering the mob. At last they\nfall, or are displaced, and then the states agree to maintain their\nfreedom by the means of constitutions and fixed laws. The despots are\nschoolmasters, who bring the people to _Nomos_ as their lord.\n\nThree other general features distinguish this period of transition.\nThe first is colonization. In the political disturbances which attend\nthe struggle for power, hundreds of citizens were forced to change\ntheir residence. So we find the mother cities sending settlers to\nItaly, to Sicily, to Africa, to the Gulf of Lyons, to Thrace, and to\nthe islands. In these colonies the real life and vigor of Hellas show\nthemselves at this stage more than in the mother states. It is in\nSicily, on the coast of Magna Gr\u00e6cia, on the seaboard of Asia Minor,\nin the islands of the \u00c6gean, that the first poets and philosophers and\nhistorians of Greece appear. Sparta and Athens, destined to become\nthe protagonists of the real drama of Hellas, are meanwhile silent and\napparently inert. Secondly, this is the age of the Nomothet\u00e6. Thebes\nreceives a constitution from the Corinthian lovers and law-givers\nPhilolaus and Diocles. Lycurgus and Solon form the states of Sparta\nand Athens. It is not a little wonderful to think of these three great\ncities, successively the leaders of historic Hellas, submitting to the\nintellect each of its own lawgiver, taking shape beneath his hands,\ncheerfully accepting and diligently executing his directions. Lastly,\nit is in this period that the two chief races of the Greeks--the\nIonians and the Dorians--emerge into distinctness. Not only are Athens\nand Sparta fashioned to the form which they will afterwards maintain;\nbut also in the colonies two distinct streams of thought and feeling\nbegin to flow onward side by side, and to absorb, each into its own\ncurrent, those minor rivulets which it could best appropriate.\n\nWhat happens to literature in this period of metamorphosis, expansion,\nand anarchy? We have seen that Homer covers the whole of the first\nperiod of literature; and in the Homeric poems we saw that the\ninterests of the present were subordinated to a splendid picture of the\nideal past, that the poet was merged in his work, that the individual\njoys and sorrows of the artist remained unspoken, and that his words\nwere referred immediately to the Muse. All this is now to be altered.\nBut meanwhile, between the first and second period, a link is made by\nHesiod. In his _Works and Days_ he still preserves the traditions of\nthe epic. But we no longer listen to the deeds of gods and heroes; and\nthough the Muse is invoked, the poet appears before us as a living,\nsentient, suffering man. We descend to earth. We are instructed in\nthe toils and duties of the beings who have to act and endure upon\nthe prosaic stage of the world, as it exists in the common light of\nthe present time. Even in Hesiod there has therefore been a change.\nHomer strung his lyre in the halls of princes who loved to dwell on the\ngreat deeds of their god-descended ancestors. Hesiod utters a weaker\nand more subdued note to the tillers of the ground and the watchers of\nthe seasons. In Homer we see the radiant heroes expiring with a smile\nupon their lips as on the \u00c6ginetan pediment. In Hesiod we hear the low,\nsad outcry of humanity. The inner life, the daily loss and profit, the\nduties and the cares of men are his concern. Homer, too, was never\nanalytical. He described the world without raising a single moral or\npsychological question. Hesiod poses the eternal problems: What is\nthe origin and destiny of mankind? Why should we toil painfully upon\nthe upward path of virtue? How came the gods to be our tyrants? What\nis justice? How did evil and pain and disease begin? After Hesiod the\nepical impulse ceases. Poets, indeed, go on writing narrative poems\nin hexameters. But the cycle, so called by the Alexandrian critics,\nproduced about this time, had not innate life enough to survive the\nwear and tear of centuries. We have lost the whole series, except in\nthe tragedies which were composed from their materials. Literature had\npassed beyond the stage of the heroic epic. The national ear demanded\nother and more varied forms of verse than the hexameter. Among the\nIonians of Asia Minor was developed the pathetic melody of the elegiac\nmetre, which first apparently was used to express the emotions of love\nand sorrow, and afterwards came to be the vehicle of moral sentiment\nand all strong feeling. Callinus and Tyrt\u00e6us adapted the elegy to\nsongs of battle. Solon consigned his wisdom to its couplets, and used\nit as a trumpet for awakening the zeal of Athens against her tyrants.\nMimnermus confined the metre to its more plaintive melodies, and made\nit the mouthpiece of lamentations over the fleeting beauty of youth and\nthe evils of old age. In Theognis the elegy takes wider scope. He uses\nit alike for satire and invective, for precept, for autobiographic\ngrumblings, for political discourses, and for philosophical\napophthegms. Side by side with the elegy arose the various forms of\nlyric poetry. The names of Alc\u00e6us and Sappho, of Alcman, Anacreon,\nSimonides, Bacchylides, Stesichorus, Arion, instantly suggest\nthemselves. But it must be borne in mind that lyric poetry in Greece at\na very early period broke up into two distinct species. The one kind\ngave expression to strong personal emotion, and became a safety-valve\nfor perilous passions; the other was choric and complex in its form;\ndesigned for public festivals and solemn ceremonials, it consisted\nchiefly of odes sung in the honor of gods and great men. To the former,\nor personal species, belong the lyrics of the Ionian and \u00c6olian\nfamilies; to the latter, or more public species, belong the so-called\nDorian odes. Besides the elegy and all the forms of lyric stanza, the\niambic, if not invented in this period, was now adapted of set purpose\nto personal satire.[4] Archilochus is said to have preferred this\nmetre, as being the closest in its form to common speech, and therefore\nsuited to his unideal practical invective. From the lyric dithyrambs of\nArion, sung at festivals of Dionysus, and from the iambic satires of\nArchilochus, recited at the feasts of Demeter,[5] was to be developed\nthe metrical structure of the drama in the third period. As yet, it\nis only among the Dorians of Sicily and of Megara that we hear of any\nmimetic shows, and these of the simplest description.\n\nIn this period the first start in the direction of philosophy was made.\nThe morality which had been implicit in Homer, and had received a\npartial development in Hesiod, was condensed in proverbial couplets\nby Solon, Theognis, Phocylides, and Simonides. These couplets formed\nthe starting-points for discussion. Many of Plato's dialogues turn on\nsayings of Theognis and Simonides. Many of the sublimer flights of\nmeditation in Sophocles are expansions of early gnomes. Even the ethics\nof Aristotle are indebted to their wisdom. The ferment of thought\nproduced by the political struggles of this age tended to sharpen\nthe intellect and to turn reflection inward. Hence we find that the\nmen who rose to greatest eminence in state-craft as tyrants or as\nlaw-givers are also to be reckoned among the primitive philosophers of\nGreece. The aphorisms of the Seven Sages, two of whom were Nomothet\u00e6,\nand several of whom were despots, contain the kernel of much that\nis peculiar in Greek thought. It is enough to mention these: #m\u00eaden\nagan; metron ariston; gn\u00f4thi seauton; kairon gn\u00f4thi; anank\u00eai d' oude\ntheoi machontai#--which are the germs of subsequent systems of ethics,\nmetaphysics, and theories of art.[6] Solon, as a patriot, a modeller of\nthe Athenian constitution, an elegiac poet, one of the Seven Sages, and\nthe representative of Greece at the court of Croesus, may be chosen as\nthe one most eminent man in a period when literature and thought and\npolitics were, to a remarkable extent, combined in single individuals.\n\nMeanwhile philosophy began to flourish in more definite shape among\nthe colonists of Asia Minor, Italy, and Sicily. The criticism of\nthe Theogony of Hesiod led the Ionian thinkers--Thales, Anaximenes,\nAnaximander, Heraclitus--to evolve separate answers to the question\nof the origin of the universe. The problem of the physical #arch\u00ea#,\nor starting-point, of the world occupied their attention. Some more\nscientific theory of existence than mythology afforded was imperatively\ndemanded. The same spirit of criticism, the same demand for accuracy,\ngave birth to history. The Theogony of Hesiod and the Homeric version\nof the Trojan war, together with the genealogies of the heroes, were\nreduced to simple statements of fact, stripped of their artistic\ntrappings, and rationalized after a rude and simple fashion by the\nannalists of Asia Minor. This zeal for greater rigor of thought was\ninstrumental in developing a new vehicle of language. The time had come\nat length for separation from poetry, for the creation of a prose style\nwhich should correspond in accuracy to the logical necessity of exact\nthinking. Prose accordingly was elaborated with infinite difficulty\nby these first speculators from the elements of common speech. It was\na great epoch in the history of European culture when men ceased to\nproduce their thoughts in the fixed cadences of verse, and consigned\nthem to the more elastic periods of prose. Heraclitus of Ephesus was\nthe first who achieved a notable success in this new and difficult art.\nHe for his pains received the title of #ho skoteinos#, the obscure--so\nstrange and novel did the language of science seem to minds accustomed\nhitherto to nothing but metre. Yet even after his date philosophy\nof the deepest species was still conveyed in verse. The Eleatic\nmetaphysicians Xenophanes and Parmenides--Xenophanes, who dared to\ncriticise the anthropomorphism of the Greek Pantheon, and Parmenides,\nwho gave utterance to the word of Greek ontology, #to on#, or being,\nwhich may be significantly contrasted with the Hebrew I am--wrote\nlong poems in which they invoked the Muse, and dragged the hexameter\nalong the pathway of their argument upon the entities, like a pompous\nsacrificial vestment. Empedocles of Agrigentum, to whom we owe the\nrough-and-ready theory of the four elements, cadenced his great work on\nNature in the same sonorous verse, and interspersed his speculations on\nthe cycles of the universe with passages of brilliant eloquence.\n\nThus the second period is marked alike by changes in politics and\nsociety, and by a revolution in the spirit of literature. The old\nHomeric monarchies are broken up. Oligarchies and tyrannies take their\nplace. To the anarchy and unrest of transition succeeds the demand for\nconstitutional order. The colonies are founded, and contain the very\npith of Hellas at this epoch: of all the great names we have mentioned,\nonly Solon and Theognis belong to Central Greece. The Homeric epos has\nbecome obsolete. In its stead we have the greatest possible variety\nof literary forms. The elegiac poetry of morality and war and love;\nthe lyrical poetry of personal feeling and of public ceremonial; the\nphilosophical poetry of metaphysics and mysticism; the iambic, with its\nsatire; prose, in its adaptation to new science and a more accurate\nhistorical investigation--are all built up upon the ruins of the epic.\nWhat is most prominent in the spirit of this second period is the\nemergence of private interests and individual activities. No dreams of\na golden past now occupy the minds of men. No gods or heroes fill the\ncanvas of the poet. Man, his daily life, his most crying necessities,\nhis deepest problems, his loves and sorrows, his friendships, his\nsocial relations, his civic duties--these are the theme of poetry. Now\nfor the first time in Europe a man tells his own hopes and fears, and\nexpects the world to listen. Sappho simply sings her love; Archilochus,\nhis hatred; Theognis, his wrongs; Mimnermus, his _ennui_; Alc\u00e6us, his\nmisfortunes; Anacreon, his pleasure of the hour; and their songs find\nan echo in all hearts. The individual and the present have triumphed\nover the ideal and the past. Finally, it should be added that the\nchief contributions to the culture of the fine arts in this period are\narchitecture, which is carried to perfection; music, which receives\nelaborate form in the lyric of the Dorian order; and sculpture, which\nappears as yet but rudimentary upon the pediments of the temples of\n\u00c6gina and Selinus.\n\nOur third period embraces the supremacy of Athens from the end of the\nPersian to the end of the Peloponnesian war. It was the struggle with\nXerxes which developed all the latent energies of the Greeks, which\nintensified their national existence, and which secured for Athens, as\nthe central power on which the scattered forces of the race converged,\nthe intellectual dictatorship of Hellas. No contest equals for interest\nand for importance this contest of the Greeks with the Persians. It was\na struggle of spiritual energy against brute force, of liberty against\noppression, of intellectual freedom against superstitious ignorance,\nof civilization against barbarism. The whole fate of humanity hung\ntrembling in the scales at Marathon, at Salamis, at Plat\u00e6a. On the one\nside were ranged the hordes of Asia--tribe after tribe, legion upon\nlegion, myriad by myriad--under their generals and princes. On the\nother side stood forth a band of athletes, of Greek citizens, each one\nhimself a prince and general. The countless masses of the herd-like\nPersian host were opposed to a handful of resolute men in whom the\nforce of the spirit of the world was concentrated. The triumph of the\nGreeks was the triumph of the spirit, of the intellect of man, of\nlight-dispersing darkness, of energy repelling a dead weight of matter.\nOther nations have shown a temper as heroic as the Greeks. The Dutch,\nfor instance, in their resistance against Philip, or the Swiss in their\nantagonism to Burgundy and Austria. But in no other single instance has\nheroism been exerted on so large a scale, in such a fateful contest\nfor the benefit of mankind at large. Had the Dutch, for example, been\nquelled by Spain, or the Swiss been crushed by the House of Hapsburg,\nthe world could have survived the loss of these athletic nations.\nThere were other mighty peoples who held the torch of liberty and of\nthe spirit, and who were ready to carry it onward in the race. But if\nPersia had overwhelmed the Greeks upon the plains of Marathon or in the\nstraits of Salamis, that torch of spiritual liberty would have been\nextinguished. There was no runner in the race to catch it up from the\ndying hands of Hellas, and to bear it forward for the future age. No;\nthis contest of the Greeks with Persia was the one supreme battle of\nhistory; and to the triumph of the Greeks we owe whatever is most great\nand glorious in the subsequent achievements of the human race.\n\nAthens rose to her full height in this duel. She bore the brunt of\nMarathon alone. Her generals decided the sea-fight of Salamis. For\nthe Spartans it remained to defeat Mardonius at Plat\u00e6a. Consequently\nthe olive-wreath of this more than Olympian victory crowned Athens.\nAthens was recognized as Saviour and Queen of Hellas. And Athens, who\nhad fought the battle of the spirit--by spirit we mean the greatness\nof the soul, liberty, intelligence, civilization, culture--everything\nwhich raises men above brutes and slaves, and makes them free beneath\nthe arch of heaven--Athens, who had fought and won this battle of the\nspirit, became immediately the recognized impersonation of the spirit\nitself. Whatever was superb in human nature found its natural home and\nsphere in Athens. We hear no more of the colonies. All great works of\nart and literature now are produced in Athens. It is to Athens that\nthe sages come to teach and to be taught. Anaxagoras, Socrates, Plato,\nthe three masters of philosophy in this third period, are Athenians.\nIt is, however, noticeable and significant that Anaxagoras, who forms\na link between the philosophy of the second and third period, is a\nnative of Clazomen\u00e6, though the thirty years of his active life are\nspent at Athens. These thinkers introduce into speculation a new\nelement. Instead of inquiries into the factors of the physical world\nor of ontological theorizing, they approach all problems which involve\nthe activities of the human soul--the presence in the universe of a\ncontrolling spirit. Anaxagoras issues the famous apophthegm: #nous\npant\u00f4n kratei#, \"intelligence disposes all things in the world.\"\nSocrates founds his ethical investigation upon the Delphian precept:\n#gn\u00f4thi seauton#; or, \"the proper study of mankind is man.\" Plato,\nwho belongs chronologically to the fourth period, but who may here\nbe mentioned in connection with the great men of the third, as\nsynthesizing all the previous speculations of the Greeks, ascends to\nthe conception of an ideal existence which unites truth, beauty, and\ngoodness in one scheme of universal order.\n\nAt the same time Greek art rises to its height of full maturity.\nIctinus designs the Parthenon, and Mnesicles the Propyl\u00e6a; Pheidias\ncompletes the development of sculpture in his statue of Athene, his\npediment and friezes of the Parthenon, his chryselephantine image of\nZeus at Olympia, his marble Nemesis upon the plain of Marathon. These\nwere the ultimate, consummate achievements of the sculptor's skill; the\nabsolute standards of what the statuary in Greece could do. Nothing\nremained to be added. Subsequent progression--for a progression there\nwas in the work of Praxiteles--was a deflection from the pure and\nperfect type.\n\nPoetry, in the same way, receives incomparable treatment at the hands\nof the great dramatists. As the epic of Homer contained implicitly\nall forms of poetry, so did the Athenian drama consciously unite them\nin one supreme work of art. The energies aroused by the Persian war\nhad made action and the delineation of action of prime importance to\nthe Greeks. We no longer find the poets giving expression to merely\npersonal feeling, or uttering wise saws and moral precepts, as in the\nsecond period. Human emotion is indeed their theme; but it is the\nphases of passion in living, acting, and conflicting personalities\nwhich the drama undertakes to depict. Ethical philosophy is more than\never substantive in verse; but its lessons are set forth by example\nand not by precept--they animate the conduct of whole trilogies. The\nawakened activity of Hellas at this period produced the first great\ndrama of Europe, as the Reformation in England produced the second. The\nGreek drama being essentially religious, the tragedians ascended to\nmythology for their materials. Homer is dismembered, and his episodes\nor allusions, together with the substance of the Cyclic poems, supply\nthe dramatist with plots. But notice the difference between Homer and\n\u00c6schylus, the epic and the drama. In the latter we find no merely\nexternal delineation of mythical history. The legends are used as\noutlines to be filled in with living and eternally important details.\nThe heroes are not interesting merely as heroes, but as the types and\npatterns of human nature; as representatives on a gigantic scale of\nthat humanity which is common to all men in all ages, and as subject\nto the destinies which control all human affairs. Mythology has\nthus become the text-book of life, interpreted by the philosophical\nconsciousness. With the names of \u00c6schylus, Sophocles, Euripides,\nmust be coupled that of Aristophanes. His comedy is a peculiarly\nAthenian product--the strongest mixture of paradox and irony and broad\nbuffoonery and splendid poetry, designed to serve a serious aim, the\nworld has ever seen. Here the many-sided, flashing genius of the Ionian\nrace appears in all its subtlety, variety, suppleness, and strength.\nThe free spirit of Athens runs riot and proclaims its liberty by\nlicense in the prodigious saturnalia of the wit of Aristophanes.\n\nIt remains to be added that to this period belong the histories of\nHerodotus, the Halicarnassean by birth, who went to Thurii as colonist\nfrom Athens, and of Thucydides, the Athenian general; the lyrics\nof Pindar the Theban, who was made the public guest of Athens; the\neloquence of Pericles, and the wit of Aspasia. This brief enumeration\nsuffices to show that in the third period of Greek literature was\ncontained whatever is most splendid in the achievements of the genius\nof the Greeks, and that all these triumphs converged and were centred\nupon Athens.\n\nThe public events of this period are summed up in the struggle for\nsupremacy between Athens and Sparta. The race which had shown itself\ncapable of united action against the common foe now develops within\nitself two antagonistic and mutually exclusive principles. The age\nof the despots is past. The flowering-time of the colonies is over.\nThe stone of Tantalus in Persia has been removed from Hellas. But it\nremains for Sparta and Athens to fight out the duel of Dorian against\nIonian prejudices, of oligarchy against democracy. Both states have\nreceived their definite stamp, or permanent #\u00eathos#--Sparta from\nsemi-mythical Lycurgus; Athens from Solon, Cleisthenes, and Pericles.\nTheir war is the warfare of the powers of the sea with the powers\nof the land, of Conservatives with Liberals, of the rigid principle\nof established order with the expansive spirit of intellectual\nand artistic freedom. What is called the Peloponnesian war--that\ninternecine struggle of the Greeks--is the historical outcome of\nthis deep-seated antagonism. And the greatest historical narrative\nin the world--that of Thucydides--is its record. To dwell upon the\nevents of this war would be superfluous. Athens uniformly exhibits\nherself as a dazzling, brilliant, impatient power, led astray by the\ndesire of novelty, and the intoxicating sense of force in freedom.\nSparta proceeds slowly, coldly, cautiously; secures her steps; acts\non the defensive; spends no strength in vain; is timid, tentative,\nand economical of energy; but at the decisive moment she steps in\nand crushes her antagonist. Deluded by the wandering fire of the\ninspiration of Alcibiades, the Athenians venture to abandon the\npolicy of Pericles and to contemplate the conquest of Syracuse. A\ndream of gigantic empire, in harmony with their expansive spirit, but\ninconsistent with the very conditions of vitality in a Greek state,\nfloated before their imaginations. In attempting to execute it, they\noverreached themselves and fell a prey to Sparta. With the fall of\nAthens faded the real beauty and grandeur of Greece. Athens had\nincarnated that ideal of loveliness and sublimity. During her days of\nprosperity she had expressed it in superb works of art and literature,\nand in the splendid life of a free people governed solely by their own\nintelligence. Sparta was strong to destroy this life, to extinguish\nthis light of culture. But to do more she had no strength. Stiffened\nin her narrow rules of discipline, she was utterly unable to sustain\nthe spiritual vitality of Hellas, or to carry its still vigorous energy\ninto new spheres. It remained for aliens to accomplish this.\n\nJust before passing to the fourth period of comparative decline, we\nmay halt a moment to contemplate the man who represents this age of\nfull maturity. Pericles, called half in derision by the comic poets\nthe Zeus of Athens, called afterwards, with reverence, by Plutarch,\nthe Olympian--Pericles expresses in himself the spirit of this age.\nHe is the typical Athenian who governed Athens during the years in\nwhich Athens governed Greece, who formed the taste of the Athenians\nat the time when they were educating the world by the production\nof immortal works of beauty. We have seen that the conquest of the\nPersians was the triumph of the spirit, and that after the conquest\nthe spirit of humanity found itself for the first time absolutely and\nconsciously free in Athens. This spirit was, so to speak, incarnated in\nPericles. The Greek genius was made flesh in him, and dwelt at Athens.\nIn obedience to its dictates, he extended the political liberties\nof the Athenians to the utmost, while he controlled those liberties\nwith the laws of his own reason. In obedience to the same spirit, he\nexpended the treasures of the Ionian League upon the public works\nwhich formed the subsequent glory of Hellas, and made her august even\nin humiliation. \"That,\" says Plutarch, \"which now is Greece's only\nevidence that the power she boasts of and her ancient wealth are no\nromance or idle story was his construction of the public and sacred\nbuildings.\" It was, again, by the same inspiration that Pericles\ndivined the true ideal of the Athenian commonwealth. In the Funeral\nOration he says: \"We love the beautiful, but without ostentation or\nextravagance; we philosophize without being seduced into effeminacy;\nwe are bold and daring, but this energy in action does not prevent us\nfrom giving to ourselves a strict account of what we undertake. Among\nother nations, on the contrary, martial courage has its foundation in\ndeficiency of culture. We know best how to distinguish between the\nagreeable and the irksome; notwithstanding which we do not shrink\nfrom perils.\" In this panegyric of the national character, Pericles\nhas rightly expressed the real spirit of Athens as distinguished from\nSparta. The courage and activity of the Athenians were the result of\nopen-eyed wisdom, and not of mere gymnastic training. Athens knew that\nthe arts of life and the pleasures of the intellect were superior to\nmerely physical exercises, to drill, and to discipline.\n\nWhile fixing our thoughts upon Pericles as the exponent of the\nmature spirit of free Hellas, we owe some attention to his master,\nthe great Anaxagoras, who first made reason play the chief part in\nthe scheme of the universe. Of the relations of Anaxagoras to his\npupil Pericles, this is what Plutarch tells us: \"He that saw most\nof Pericles, and furnished him most especially with a weight and\ngrandeur of sense superior to all arts of popularity, and in general\ngave him his elevation and sublimity of purpose and of character, was\nAnaxagoras of Clazomen\u00e6, whom the men of those times called by the\nname of Nous--that is, mind or intelligence; whether in admiration\nof the great and extraordinary gift he displayed for the science of\nnature, or because he was the first of the philosophers who did not\nrefer the first ordering of the world to fortune or chance, nor to\nnecessity or compulsion, but to a pure, unadulterated intelligence,\nwhich in all other existing mixed and compound things acts as a\nprinciple of discrimination, and of combination of like with like.\"\nThus we may say, without mysticism, that at the very moment in history\nwhen the intelligence of mankind attained to freedom, there arose\na philosopher in Anaxagoras to proclaim the freedom and absolute\nsupremacy of intelligence in the universe; and a ruler in Pericles to\ncarry into action the laws of that intelligence, and to govern the most\nuncontrollably free of nations by reason. When Pericles died, Athens\nlost her Zeus, her head, her real king. She was left a prey to parties,\nto demagogues, to the cold encroaching policy of Sparta. But Pericles\nhad lived long enough to secure the immortality of what was greatest in\nhis city--to make of Athens in her beauty \"a joy forever.\"\n\n\"If the army of Nicias had not been defeated under the walls of\nSyracuse; if the Athenians had, acquiring Sicily, held the balance\nbetween Rome and Carthage, sent garrisons to the Greek colonies in\nthe south of Italy, Rome might have been all that its intellectual\ncondition entitled it to be, a tributary, not the conqueror, of Greece;\nthe Macedonian power would never have attained to the dictatorship of\nthe civilized states of the world.\" Such is the exclamation of Shelley\nover the fall of Athens. But, according to the Greek proverb, to\ndesire impossibilities--in the past as in the present--is a sickness\nof the soul. No Greek state could have maintained its #\u00eathos# while it\nruled a foreign empire; nor is the right to govern measured by merely\nintellectual capacity. The work of Greece was essentially spiritual\nand not political. The chief sign of weakness which meets us in the\nfourth period is in the region of politics. After the humiliation of\nAthens, Sparta assumed the leadership of Greece. But she shamefully\nmisused her power by betraying the Greek cities of Asia to the\nPersians, while her generals and harmosts made use of their authority\nfor the indulgence of their private vices. Nothing in the previous\ntraining of the Spartan race fitted them for the control of nations\nwith whose more liberal institutions and refined manners they could\nnot sympathize. Their tyranny proved insupportable, and was at last\nreduced to the dust by the Thebans under Pelopidas and Epaminondas.\nBut Thebes had neither the wealth nor the vigor to administer the\ngovernment of Hellas. Therefore the Greek states fell into a chaos\nof discord, without leadership, without a generous spirit of mutual\nconfidence and aid; while at the same time the power of the Macedonian\nkingdom was rapidly increasing under the control of Philip. An occasion\noffered itself to Philip for interfering in the Greek affairs. From\nthat moment forward forever the cities of Greece became the fiefs of\nforeign despots. The occasion in question was a great one. The Phocians\nhad plundered the Delphian temple, and none of the Greeks were strong\nenough to punish them. The act of the Phocians was parricidal in its\nsacrilege, suicidal in short-sightedness. Defiling the altar of the\nancestral god, on whose oracles the states had hitherto depended for\ncounsel, and destroying, with the sanctity of Delphi, the sacred symbol\nof Greek national existence, they abandoned themselves to desecration\nand dishonor. With as little impunity could a king of Judah have robbed\nthe temple and invaded the holiest of holies. But neither Spartans nor\nAthenians nor yet Thebans arose to avenge the affront offered to their\ncommon nationality. The whole of Greece proper lay paralyzed, and the\nforeigner stepped in--Philip, whom in their pride they had hitherto\ncalled the Barbarian. He took up the cause of Phoebus and punished\nthe children of the Delphian god for their impiety. It was clearly\nproved to the states of Hellas that their independence was at an end.\nThey submitted. Greece became the passive spectator of the deeds of\nMacedonia. Hellas, who had been the hero, was now the chorus. It was\nAlexander of Macedon who played the part of Achilles in her future\ndrama.\n\nOne man vindicated the spirit of Greek freedom against this despotism.\nThe genius of Athens, militant once more, but destined not to triumph,\nincarnates itself in Demosthenes. By dint of eloquence and weight of\ncharacter he strives to stem the tide of dissolution. But it is in\nvain. His orations remain as the monuments of a valiant but ineffectual\nresistance. The old intelligence of Athens shines, nay, fulminates, in\nthese tremendous periods; but it is no longer intelligence combined\nwith power. The sceptre of empire has passed from the hands of the\nAthenians.\n\nStill, though the states of Greece are humiliated, though we hear no\nmore of Ionians and Dorians, but only of Macedonians, yet the real\nforce of the Greek race is by no means exhausted in this fourth period.\nOn the contrary, their practical work in the world is just beginning.\nUnder the guidance of Alexander, the Greek spirit conquers and attempts\nto civilize the East. The parallel between Alexander and Achilles,\nas before hinted, is more than accidental. Trained in the study of\nHomer as we are in the study of the Bible, he compared his destinies\nwith those of the great hero, and formed himself upon the type of\nPelides. At Troy he pays peculiar reverence to the tomb of Patroclus.\nHe celebrates Heph\u00e6stion's death with Homeric games and pyres up-piled\nto heaven. He carries Homer with him on war-marches, and consults the\n_Iliad_ on occasions of doubt. Alexander's purpose was to fight out\nto the end the fight begun by Achilles between West and East, and\nto avenge Greece for the injuries of Asia. But it was not a merely\nmilitary conquest which he executed. Battles were the means to higher\nends. Alexander sought to subject the world to the Greek spirit, to\nstamp the customs, the thoughts, the language, and the culture of the\nGreeks upon surrounding nations. Poets and philosophers accompanied\nhis armies. In the deserts of Bactria and Syria and Libya he founded\nGreek cities. During the few years of his short life he not only swept\nthose continents, but he effaced the past and inaugurated a new state\nof things throughout them; so that, in subsequent years, when the\nRomans, themselves refined by contact with the Greeks, advanced to\ntake possession of those territories, they found their work half done.\nThe alchemizing touch of the Greek genius had transformed languages,\ncities, constitutions, customs, nay, religions also, to its own\nlikeness. This fourth period, a period of transition from maturity to\ndecay, is the period of Alexander. In it the Greek spirit, which had\nbeen gathering strength through so many generations, poured itself\nabroad over the world. What it lost in intensity and splendor, it\ngained in extension. It was impossible, even for Greeks, while thus\nimpressing their civilization on the whole earth, to go on increasing\nin the beauty of their life and art at home.\n\nSome of the greatest names in art, philosophy, and literature\nstill belong to this fourth period. The chief of all is Aristotle,\n_il maestro di color che sanno_, the absorber of all previous and\ncontemporary knowledge into one coherent system, the legislator for\nthe human intellect through eighteen centuries after his death. It is\nworth observing that Aristotle, unlike Socrates and Plato, is not a\ncitizen of Athens, but of the small Thracian town Stageira. Thus, at\nthe moment when philosophy lost its essentially Hellenic character and\nbecame cosmopolitan in Aristotle, the mantle devolved upon an alien.\nAgain Aristotle was the tutor of Alexander. The two greatest men of\nthe fourth period are thus brought into the closest relations. In pure\nliterature the most eminent productions of this period are the orations\nof \u00c6schines, Demosthenes, Isocrates, and the comedies of Menander. It\nis not a little significant that we should have retained no authentic\nfragment of the speeches of Pericles--except in so far as we may trust\nThucydides--while the studied rhetoric of these politically far less\nimportant orators should have been so copiously preserved. The reign of\nmere talk was imminent. Oratory was coming to be studied as an art,\nand practised, not as a potent instrument in politics, but as an end in\nitself. Men were beginning to think more of how they spoke than of what\nthey might achieve by speaking. Besides, the whole Athenian nation,\nas dikasts and as ecclesiasts, were interested in rhetoric. The first\nmasters of eloquence considered as a fine art were therefore idolized.\nDemosthenes, \u00c6schines, Isocrates, combined the fire of vehement\npartisans and impassioned politicians with the consummate skill of\nprofessional speech-makers. After their days rhetoric in Greece became\na matter of frigid display--an #ag\u00f4nisma es to parachr\u00eama#. In the\ncomedies of Menander, as far as we may judge of them from fragments\nand critiques, and from their Latin copies, a very noticeable change\nin the spirit of literature is apparent. The so-called New Comedy, of\nwhich he was the representative, is the product of a meditative and\ninactive age. The great concerns of the world, and of human life seen\nin its profoundest depth, which formed the staple of Aristophanes, have\nbeen abandoned. We are brought close to domesticities: the events of\ncommon life occupy the stage of Menander. The audience of Aristophanes\nlistened with avidity to comedies of which politics upon the grandest\nscale were the substance. Menander invited his Athenians to the\nintrigues of young men, slaves, and hetairai, at warfare with niggardly\nparents. Athens has ceased to be an empress. She has become a garrulous\nhousewife. She contents herself with studious analysis and refined\namusements--still splendid with intelligence and dignified with wisdom,\nbut not weighty with the consciousness of power, nor throbbing with the\npulses of superabundant youthfulness and vigor.\n\nIn the fine arts this fourth period was still inventive. Under\nAlexander painting, which had received its Hellenic character from\nPolygnotus and Zeuxis, continued to flourish with Apelles. Indeed, it\nmay be fairly said that while art in the heroic period was confined\nto the perfecting of the human body, in the second period it produced\narchitecture, in the third sculpture, and in the fourth painting--this\nbeing apparently the natural order of progression in the evolution\nof the fine arts. Lysippus, meanwhile, worthily represents the craft\nof the statuary in Alexander's age; while the coins and gems of this\ntime show that the glyptic and numismatic arts were at their zenith\nof technical perfection. Of Greek music, in the absence of all sure\ninformation, it is difficult to speak. Yet it is probable that the age\nof Alexander witnessed a new and more complex development of orchestral\nmusic. We hear of vast symphonies performed at the Macedonian court.\nNor is this inconsistent with what we know about the history of art;\nfor music attains independence, ceases to be the handmaid of poetry or\ndancing, only in an age of intellectual reflectiveness. When nations\nhave expressed themselves in the more obvious and external arts, they\nseek through harmonies and melodies to give form to their emotions.\n\nThe fifth, last, and longest period is one of decline and decay. But\nthese words must be used with qualification when we speak of a people\nlike the Greeks. What is meant is, that the Greeks never recovered\ntheir national vigor or produced men so great as those whom we have\nhitherto been mentioning. The Macedonian empire prepared the way for\nthe Roman: Hellenic civilization put on the garb of servitude to Rome\nand to Christianity. Henceforth we must not look to Greece proper for\nthe more eminent achievements of the still surviving spirit of the\nGreeks. Greek culture in its decadence has become the heritage of\nthe whole world. Syrians, Egyptians, Phrygians, Romans, carry on the\ntradition inherited from Athens. Hellas is less a nation now than an\nintellectual commonwealth, a society of culture holding various races\nin communion. The spiritual republic established thus by the Greek\ngenius prepares the way for Christian brotherhood: the liberty of the\nchildren of the Muses leads onward to the freedom of the sons of God.\n\nIn this period, the chief centres are first Alexandria and Athens, then\nRome and Byzantium. The real successors of Alexander were his generals.\nBut the only dynasty founded by them which rises into eminence by its\nprotection of the arts and literature was the Ptolemaic. At Alexandria,\nunder the Ptolemies, libraries were formed and sciences were studied.\nEuclid the geometer, Aratus the astronomer, Ptolemy the cosmographer,\nadd lustre to the golden age of Alexandrian culture. Callimachus\nat the same time leads a tribe of learned poets and erudite men of\nletters. Dramas meant to be read, like Lycophron's _Cassandra_; epics\ncomposed in the study, like the _Argonautica_ of Apollonius Rhodius,\nform the diversion of the educated world. Meanwhile the whole genus of\nparasitic _litt\u00e9rateurs_ begin to flourish: grammarians, who settle\nand elucidate texts with infinite labor and some skill; sophists\nand rhetoricians, whose purpose in life it is to adorn imaginary\nsubjects and to defend problematical theses with conceits of the\nfancy and ingenious subtleties of reasoning. A young man writing to\nhis mistress, a dinner-seeker who has failed to get an invitation,\nThemistocles at the Persian court, celebrated statues, philosophical\npuzzles--everything that can be wordily elaborated is grist for their\nmill. The art of writing without having anything particular to say,\nthe sister art of quarrying the thoughts of other people and setting\nthem in elaborate prolixities of style, are brought to perfection. At\nthe same time, side by side with these literary moths and woodlice,\nare the more industrious ants--the collectors of anecdotes, compilers\nof biographies, recorders of quotations, composers of all sorts of\ncommonplace books, students of the paste-brush and scissors sort, to\nwhom we owe much for the preservation of scraps of otherwise lost\ntreasures. Into such mechanical and frigid channels has the life\nof literature passed. Literature is no longer an integral part of\nthe national existence, but a form of polite amusement. The genius\nof Hellas has nothing better to do than to potter about like a\n_dilettante_ among her treasures.\n\nThe only true poets of this period are the Sicilian idyllists. Over\nthe waning day of Greek poetry Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus cast the\nsunset hues of their excessive beauty. Genuine and exquisite is their\ninspiration; pure, sincere, and true is their execution. Yet we agree\nwith Shelley, who compares their perfume to \"the odor of the tuberose,\nwhich overcomes and sickens the spirit with excess of sweetness.\" In\nthe same way the erotic epigrammatists, though many of them genuine\npoets, especially the exquisite Meleager of Gadara, in the very\nperfection of their peculiar quality of genius offer an unmistakable\nsign of decay. It is the fashion among a certain class of modern\ncritics to extol the art of decadence, to praise the hectic hues of\nconsumption, and even the dull livors of corruption, above the roses\nand the lilies of health. Let them peruse the epigrams of Meleager and\nof Straton. Of beauty in decay sufficient splendors may be found there.\n\nWhile Alexandria was thus carrying the poetic tradition of Hellas to\nits extremity in the idyl and the epigram--carving cherrystones after\nthe sculptor's mallet had been laid aside--and was continuing the\ncriticism which had been set on foot by Aristotle, Athens persisted in\nher function of educating Europe. She remained a sort of university, in\nwhich the doctrines of Plato and Aristotle were adequately developed,\nthough not in the most comprehensive spirit, by a crowd of peripatetic\nand academic sages, and where the founders of the Epicurean and Stoic\nschools gave a new direction to thought. It was during the first vigor\nof the Epicurean and Stoic teaching that the spirit of Hellas came\ninto contact with the spirit of Rome. Hence Lucretius, Cicero, the\nsatirists--whatever, in fact, Rome may boast of philosophy, retains the\ntincture of the ethics of her schoolmasters. Rome, as Virgil proudly\nsaid, was called to govern--not to write poems or carve statues, but\nto quell the proud and spare the abject. Still she caught, to some\nextent, the \u00e6sthetic manners of her captive. Consequently, long after\nthe complete political ascendency of Rome was an established fact,\nand geographical Greece had become an insignificant province, the\nHellenic spirit led the world. And some of its latest products are\nstill dazzling in beauty, marvellous in ingenuity, Titanic in force. A\nfew names selected from the list of Gr\u00e6co-Roman authors will be more\nimpressive than much description. Plutarch of Ch\u00e6ronea, in the first\ncentury, the author of the great biographies; Lucian, the Syrian, in\nthe second century, the master of irony and graceful dialogue and\ndelicate description; Epictetus, the Phrygian slave, in the second\ncentury, who taught the latest form of Stoicism to the Romans, and\nhad for his successor Marcus Aurelius; Philostratus of Lemnos, the\nrhetorician and author of the life of Apollonius; Plotinus, Porphyrius,\nand Proclus, the revivers of Platonic philosophy under a new form\nof mysticism at Alexandria during the third and fourth centuries;\nLonginus, the critic, who adorned Palmyra in the third century;[7]\nHeliodorus of Emesa, Achilles Tatius, Longus, Mus\u00e6us, the erotic\nnovelists and poets of the fourth and fifth centuries--these, not to\nmention the Christian fathers, are a few of the great men whom Greece\nproduced in this last period. But now notice how miscellaneous in\nnationality and in pursuit they are. One only is a Greek of the old\nstock--Plutarch, the Boeotian. One is a slave from Phrygia. Another is\na Roman emperor.\n\nA fourth is a native of the desert city of Tadmor. Two are Syrians.\nOne is a Greek of the \u00c6gean. Another is an Egyptian. From this we may\nsee how the genius of the Greeks had been spread abroad to embrace all\nlands. No fact better illustrates the complete leavening of the world\nby their spirit.\n\nBut considering that this fifth period may be said to cover six\ncenturies, from the death of Alexander to about 300 after Christ--for\nwhy should we continue our computation into the dreary regions of\nByzantine dulness?--it must be confessed that it is sterile in\nproductiveness and inferior in the quality of its crop to any of the\nprevious periods. Subtle and beautiful is the genius of Hellas still,\nbecause it _is_ Greek; strong and stern it is in part, because it has\nbeen grafted on the Roman character; its fascinations and compulsions\nare powerful enough to bend the metaphysics of the Christian faith.\nYet, after all, it is but a shadow of its own self.\n\nAfter the end of the fourth century the iconoclastic zeal and piety\nof the Christians put an end practically to Greek art and literature.\nChristianity was at that time the superior force in the world; and\nthough Clement of Alexandria contended for an amicable treaty of peace\nbetween Greek culture and the new creed, though the two Gregories and\nBasil were, to use the words of Gibbon, \"distinguished above all their\ncontemporaries by the rare union of profane eloquence and orthodox\npiety,\" though the bishops of the Church were selected from the ranks\nof scholars trained by Libanius and other Greek sophists, yet the\nspirit of Christianity proved fatal to the spirit of Greek art. Early\nin the fifth century the Christian rabble at Alexandria, under the\ninspiration of their ferocious despot Cyril, tore in pieces Hypatia,\nthe last incarnation of the dying beauty of the Greeks. She had turned\nher eye backward to Homer and to Plato, dreaming that haply even yet\nthe gods of Hellas might assert their power and resume the government\nof the world, and that the wisdom of Athens might supplant the folly\nof Jerusalem. But it was a vain and idle dream. The genius of Greece\nwas effete. Christianity was pregnant with the medi\u00e6val and the modern\nworld. In violence and bloodshed the Gospel triumphed. This rending\nin pieces of the past, this breaking-down of temples and withering\nof illusions, was no doubt necessary. New wine cannot be poured into\nold bottles. No cycle succeeds another cycle in human affairs without\nconvulsions and revolutions that rouse the passions of humanity. It is\nthus that\n\n                God fulfils himself in many ways,\n    Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.\n\nYet even in this last dire struggle of the spirit of pagan art with the\nspirit of Christian faith, when beauty had become an abomination in the\neyes of the Holiest, on the ruins, as it were, of the desecrated fanes\nof Hellas, weeds lovely in their rankness flourished. While Cyril's\nmobs were dismembering Hypatia, the erotic novelists went on writing\nabout Daphnis, and Mus\u00e6us sang the lamentable death of Leander. Nonnus\nwas perfecting a new and more polished form of the hexameter. These\nwere the last notes of Greek poetry. In these faint and too melodious\nstrains the Muse took final farewell of her beloved Hellas. And when,\nafter the lapse of a thousand years, the world awoke upon the ruins of\nthe past, these were among the first melodies which caught its ear.\nOne of the three first Greek books issued from the Aldine press about\nthe year 1493, and called by Aldus the \"precursors,\" was the poem of\nHero and Leander. It was reprinted at Paris in 1507 by De Gourmont,\nat Alcala in Spain in 1514, and at Cologne in 1517 by Hirschhorn. Our\nMarlowe in the sixteenth century translated Mus\u00e6us. The French Amyot\ntranslated Longus, and bequeathed to his nation a voluminous literature\nof pastorals founded upon the tale of Chloe. Tasso and Guarini, in\nItaly, caught the same strain; so that the accents of the modern\nRenaissance were an echo of the last utterances of dying Greece. The\ngolden age of pastoral innocence, the _bell' et\u00e0 dell' oro_, of which\nthe Alexandrians had been dreaming in the midst of their effete and\ndecaying civilization, fascinated the imagination of our immediate\nancestors, when, three centuries ago, they found the sun of art and\nbeauty shining in the heavens, new worlds to conquer, and indefinite\nexpansions of the spirit to be realized.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] My special debt to Hegel's _Philosophy of History_ in this\nparagraph ought to be acknowledged.\n\n[2] I do not mean by this that _one_ poet must have composed both\nepics, but that each bears upon it the mark of unity in conception and\nexecution. Whether the same poet produced both is a different question,\nand I am inclined to accept the _Odyssey_ as a later work.\n\n[3] The date of Pheidon is in truth unfixed. According to recent\ncalculations, he may have celebrated the 28th and not the 8th Olympiad.\nThe involved alteration in his date would bring him into closer\nconnection with the other despots.\n\n[4] The _Margites Eiresione_, attributed by the Greeks to Homer,\ncontain possibly the earliest fragments of iambic verses.\n\n[5] Satire, it is well known, was permitted at some of the festivals of\nDemeter; and the legend of the maid Iamb\u00e9, who alone could draw a smile\nfrom Demeter, after she had lost Persephone, seems to symbolize the\nconnection of iambic recitations with the cultus of this goddess.\n\n[6] Nothing overmuch; measure is best; know thyself; know the right\nmoment; against necessity not even gods fight.\n\n[7] Recent criticism renders the age and country of the critic Longinus\ndoubtful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n_MYTHOLOGY._\n\n    The Notion of a Systematic Pantheon.--Homer and\n        Hesiod.--Mythology before Homer.--Supposed Conditions\n        of the Mythopoeic Age.--Vico.--The Childhood\n        of the World.--Goethe's Boyhood.--Mythology is\n        a Body of Rudimentary Thought, Penetrated with\n        the Spirit of the Nation.--Different Views of\n        the Greek Myths.--Grote.--Relics of a Primitive\n        Revelation.--The Symbolic Hypothesis.--Rationalism and\n        Euhemerus.--Fetichism.--Poetic Theory.--The Linguistic\n        Theory.--Comparative Philology.--Solar Theory.--The\n        Myth of Herakles: its Solar Interpretation--its Ethical\n        Significance.--Summary of the Points Suggested with\n        Regard to Mythology.--Medi\u00e6val Myths.--The Action of\n        the Greek Intelligence upon Mythology: in Art--in\n        Philosophy.--Persistence of the National Polytheism.--Homer\n        Allegorized at Alexandria.--Triumph of Christianity.--The\n        Greek Pantheon in the Middle Ages.--Greek Mythology\n        Recovers Poetic and Artistic Value in the Renaissance.\n\n\nIt has been remarked with justice that, when we use the word mythology,\nwe are too apt to think of a Pantheon, of a well-defined hierarchy of\ngods and demigods and heroes, all fabulous indeed, but all arranged\nin one coherent system. This conception of Greek mythology arises\npartly from the fact that we learn to know it in dictionaries, compiled\nfrom the works of authors who lived long after the age in which myths\nwere produced, and partly from the fact that the conditions under\nwhich myth-making was a possibility are so far removed from us as to\nbe almost unintelligible. Yet there is some truth in what, upon the\nwhole, is an erroneous view. Although the Greek myths, in their origin,\nwere not a well-digested system, still they formed a complete body\nof national thought, on which the intelligence of the Greek race, in\nits art and its religion, was continually working, until it took the\nfinal form in which we have it in our dictionaries. What remained in\nthe Pantheon of Apollodorus and Hyginus, remained there by no freak of\naccident. What was omitted by Homer and by Hesiod was omitted by no\noperation of blind chance. The spirit of the Greeks was concerned in\nthe purification and the preservation of their myths, and the unity of\nthat spirit constitutes the unity of their mythology.\n\nTwo great poets gave to Greek mythology the form which it maintained in\nthe historic period. Herodotus says that \"Homer and Hesiod named the\ngods, and settled their genealogies for the Hellenes.\" What this means\nis, that at a certain prehistoric epoch, the epoch of epic poetry,\nmythology had passed from the primitive and fluid state, and had\nbecome the subject-matter of the arts. Between the mythopoeic liberty\nof creation and the collections of the grammarians was interposed the\npoetry, the sculpture, and the religious ritual of the historic Greeks.\nWhat we have to deal with at the present moment is, not mythology as\nit appears in art, but the genesis of the myths conceived as a body of\nGreek thought and fancy in their infantine or rudimentary stages.\n\nWhat was mythology before Homer? How did it come into existence? How\nwere the Greeks brought to believe that there was a supreme father of\ngods and men called Zeus, a wise patroness of arts and sciences called\nPallas, a pure and glorious and far-darting deity called Phoebus? There\nis no one who does not acknowledge something sublime and beautiful\nin this part of the Greek mythology. Even those who do not care to\ncomprehend the growth of these conceptions admit that the genius of the\nrace shone with splendor peculiar to itself in their creation.\n\nTo this question must be counterpoised another. What are we to think\nabout the many repulsive, grotesque, and hideous elements of Greek\nmythology--the incest and adultery of Zeus, the cannibalism of Kronos,\nthe profligacy of Aphrodite, the cruelty of Phoebus? When thought\nbegan to be conscious of itself in Greece these abominations moved the\nanger of the philosophers. Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Pindar,\nand Plato, in succession, recognized that the mythical fables were\nincompatible with the notion of deity, and rejected them forthwith.\nModern students have been so disgusted by the same indecencies that\nsome of them have abandoned Greek mythology as hopeless, while others\nhave taken refuge in the extraordinary paradox that myths are a disease\nof language. These methods of dealing with the problem are alike\nunphilosophical. It is impossible for the historian to reject what\nformed the groundwork of religious and artistic thought in Greece. It\nis childish to represent the human mind as a sort of bound Mazeppa,\nstretched helpless on the wild horse, Language, which carries it away\ninto the wilderness.\n\nIn order to understand the two questions which have been propounded,\nwe must make a demand upon our imagination, and endeavor to return,\nin thought at least, to the conditions of a people in the mythopoeic\nage--the age, that is to say, in which not only were myths naturally\nmade, but all the thinking of a nation took the form of myths. We must\ngo back to a time when there were no written records, when there were\nno systems of thought, when language had not been subjected to analysis\nof any kind, when abstract notions were unknown, when science had\nnot begun to exist, when history was impossible, and when the whole\nworld was a land of miracles. There was no check then laid upon fancy,\nbecause nothing as yet was conceived as thought, but everything existed\nas sensation. In this infancy the nation told itself stories, and\nbelieved in them. The same faculties of the mind which afterwards gave\nbirth to poetry and theology, philosophy and state-craft, science and\nhistory, were now so ill-defined and merely germinal that they produced\nbut fables. Yet these faculties were vigorous and vivid. The fables\nthey produced were infinite in number and variety, beautiful, and so\npregnant with thought under the guise of fancy that long centuries\nscarcely sufficed for disengaging all that they contained. In dealing\nwith Greek mythology it must be remembered that the nation with whose\nmythopoeic imagination we are concerned was the Greek nation.[8] It had\nalready in itself all Hellas, as the seed enfolds the plant.\n\nA famous passage in Vico's work _Della Metafisica Poetica_ may here\nbe paraphrased, in order to make the conditions under which we must\nimagine myths to have arisen more intelligible:[9] \"Poetry, which was\nthe first form of wisdom, began with a system of thought, not reasoned\nor abstract, as ours is now, but felt and imagined, as was natural in\nthe case of those primitive human beings who had developed no reasoning\nfaculties, but were all made up of senses in the highest physical\nperfection, and of the most vigorous imaginations. In their total\nignorance of causes they wondered at everything; and their poetry was\nall divine, because they ascribed to gods the objects of their wonder,\nand thought that beings like themselves, but greater, could alone\nhave caused them. Thus they were like children whom we notice taking\ninto their hands inanimate things, and playing and talking with them\nas though they were living persons. When thunder terrified them, they\nattributed their own nature to the phenomenon; and being apt to express\ntheir most violent passions by howls and roarings, they conceived\nheaven as a vast body, which gave notice of its anger by lightnings\nand thunderings. The whole of nature, in like manner, they imagined to\nbe a vast animated body, capable of feeling and passion.\" Vico then\nproceeds to point out how difficult it is for us, who, through long\ncenturies, have removed ourselves as far as possible from the life of\nthe instincts, senses, and imagination, whose language has become full\nof abstract terms, whose conception of the universe has been formed\nby science, whose thought is critical and reflective, and who have\nbeen educated in a rational theology, to comprehend the attitude of\nprimitive humanity in its personifying stage of thought.\n\nIn this childhood of the world, when the Greek myths came into\nexistence, the sun was called a shepherd, and the clouds were his\nsheep; or an archer, and the sunbeams were his arrows. It was easier\nthen to think of the sea as a husky-voiced and turbulent old man, whose\ntrue form none might clearly know, because he changed so often and was\nso secret in his ways, who shook the earth in his anger, and had the\nwhite-maned billows of the deep for horses, than to form a theory of\nthe tides. The spring of the year became a beautiful youth, beloved\nby the whole earth, or beloved, like Hyacinthus, by the sun, or,\nlike Adonis, by the queen of beauty, over whom the fate of death was\nsuspended, and for whose loss annual mourning was made. Such tales the\nGreeks told themselves in their youth; and it would be wrong to suppose\nthat deliberate fiction played any part in their creation. To conceive\nof the world thus was natural to the whole race; and the tales that\nsprang up formed the substance of their intellectual activity. Here,\nthen, if anywhere, we watch the process of a people in its entirety\ncontributing to form a body of imaginative thought, projecting itself\nin a common and unconscious work of art. Nor will it avail to demur\nthat behind the Greeks there stretched a dim and distant past, that\nmany of their myths had already taken shape, to some extent, before the\nseparation of the Aryan families. That is now an ascertained fact, the\nbearings of which will have to be discussed farther on in this chapter.\nFor the moment it is enough to reply that not the similarities, but the\ndifferences, brought to light by the study of comparative mythology are\nimportant for the historian of each several race. The raw material of\nsilk may interest the merchant or the man of science; the artist cares\nfor the manufactured fabric, with its curious patterns and refulgent\nhues.\n\nIn order further to illustrate the conditions of the mythopoeic age, a\npassage from the _Dichtung und Wahrheit_ of Goethe might be quoted. If\nit is not a mere fancy to suppose that the individual lives, to some\nextent at least, in his own self the life of humanity, and therefore\nto conclude that the childhood of the world can be mirrored in the\nchildhood of a man, a poet like Goethe is precisely fitted, by the\nrecord of his own boyhood, to throw light upon the early operations of\nthe human mind. For, in one sense of the term, the mythopoeic faculty\nnever dies with poets. In their own persons they prolong the youth and\nadolescence of the race, retaining the faculty, now lost to nearly\nall, of looking on the universe as living. Goethe, then, relates that\nwhen he was at school at Frankfort, he used to invent stories about\nhimself and the places he frequented, half consciously, and half by\na spontaneous working of his fancy. These stories he told to his\nschool-fellows so vividly that they accepted them as fact. \"It greatly\nrejoiced them,\" he says, \"to know that such wonderful things could\nbefall one of their own playmates; nor was it any harm that they did\nnot understand how I could find time and space for such adventures, as\nthey must have been pretty well aware of all my comings and goings, and\nhow I was occupied the whole day.\" He goes on to recount one of these\nmarvellous narratives. The scene of it was laid in Frankfort, in a\nstreet familiar to his school-fellows. Down this street, which had a\nlong blank wall surmounted by trees, he supposed himself to have been\nwalking one day, and to have found a door in the wall, not noticed by\nhim on any previous occasion. His curiosity being aroused, he knocked\nat the door, and, after some delay, was admitted. Inside he found\na garden full of wonders--fountains and fair nymphs, exotic shrubs\nand quaint old men, magicians, knights, sylphs, and all the proper\nfurniture of a romance. Goethe's comrades, the first time that they\nheard him describe this enchanted pleasure-ground in glowing terms,\nalready more than half believed in its existence; \"and,\" says the poet,\n\"each of them visited alone the place, without confiding it to me or\nto the others, and discovered the nut-trees,\" but none found the door.\nStill, they did not disbelieve what Goethe told them, but preferred\nto imagine that the magic door had once, at least, been seen by him,\nand opened for him only, though it remained invisible and closed\nfor them. And herein they were literally right, for Goethe trod an\nenchanted ground of poetry which few can hope to win. The story proved\nso fascinating that he had to tell it over and over again, always\nrepeating the same order of events, until, he says, \"by the uniformity\nof the narrative I converted the fable into truth in the minds of my\nhearers.\"\n\nThis, then, may be used as an illustration of the mythopoeic faculty.\nAll that was needed for the growth of myths was creative mind on the\none side and receptive and believing mind on the other. It did not,\nprobably, require a Goethe to make a myth, though we may still believe\nthat the greatest and best myths owed their form to the intervention\nat some period of unknown and unacknowledged Goethes. When the logical\nfaculty was in abeyance, when the critical faculty had not been\naroused, when sympathy was quick, language fertile, fancy exuberant,\nand belief sincere, there was nothing to check mythopoetry. The\nnation had to make the step from boyhood to adolescence before the\nimpulse ceased. Nor was there any education from without in a fixed\nbody of systematized knowledge to coerce its freedom. Forming the\nfirst activity of the intellect, it held in solution, as it were, the\nrudiments of religion and morality, of psychological reflection, of\npolitics, geography, and history. Had there been any one to ask the\nmyth-maker: Who told you this strange tale? what is your authority\nfor imposing it upon us? he would have answered: The goddess told me,\nthe divine daughter of memory, as I walked alone. And this he would\nsincerely and conscientiously have believed; and those who heard him\nwould have given credence to his words; and thus his intuitions became\ntheir intuitions. Creative faculty and credence, insight and sympathy,\ntwo forms of the same as yet scarcely divided operation of the mind,\ngave permanence to myths. What the fathers received they transmitted\nto their sons. Successive generations dealt freely with them, moulding\nand remodelling, within the limits set upon the genius of the race.\nHundreds may have been produced simultaneously, and among them must\nhave raged a fierce struggle for existence, so that multitudes perished\nor were hopelessly defaced, just as in the animal and vegetable\nkingdoms whole species disappear or survive only in fragments and\nfossils.\n\nIt cannot be too often repeated that the power which presided over the\ntransmission of the myths was the spirit of the people. An inherent\nselective instinct in the nation determined which of them should\nultimately survive; and thus a body of legend, truly national, was\nformed, in which the nation saw itself reflected. When, therefore, we\nsay that Greek mythology is Hellenic and original, we are admitting\nthis unconscious, silent, steady, irresistible faculty of the mind to\nfashion gods in its own image, to come to a knowledge of itself in its\ndivinities, to create a glorified likeness of all that it admires in\nits own nature, to deify its truest and its best, and to invest its\nthought in an imperishable form of art. Nor will it here again avail to\ndemur that Zeus was originally the open sky, Pallas the dawn, Phoebus\nand Artemis the sun and moon. The student of the Greeks accepts this\ninformation placidly and gratefully from the philologer; but he passes\nimmediately beyond it. For him Zeus, Pallas, Phoebus, Artemis are no\nlonger the sky and dawn, the sun and moon. Whatever their origin may\nhave been, the very mythopoeic process placed them in quite a different\nand more important relation to Greek thought when it handed them over\nto Hesiod and Homer, to Pindar and \u00c6schylus, to Pheidias and Polygnotus.\n\nTo discuss the bearings of the linguistic and solar theories of\nmythology may be reserved for another part of this essay. It is\nenough, at this point, to bear in mind that there was nothing in\nthe consciousness of the prehistoric Greeks which did not take the\nform of myth. Consequently their mythology, instead of being a\ncompact system of polytheism, is really a whole mass of thought,\nbelonging to a particular period of human history, when it was\nimpossible to think except by pictures, or to record impressions of\nthe world except in stories. That all these tales are religious or\nsemi-religious--concerned, that is to say, with deities--must be\nexplained by the tendency of mankind at an early period of culture to\nconceive the powers of nature as persons, and to dignify them with\nsuperhuman attributes. To the apprehension of infantine humanity\neverything is a god. Viewed even as a Pantheon, reduced to rule and\norder by subsequent reflection, Greek mythology is, therefore, a\nmass of the most heterogeneous materials. Side by side with some of\nthe sublimest and most beautiful conceptions which the mind has ever\nproduced, we find in it much that is absurd and trivial and revolting.\nDifferent ages and conditions of thought have left their products\nembedded in its strange conglomerate. While it contains fragments of\nfossilized stories, the meaning of which has either been misunderstood\nor can only be explained by reference to barbaric customs, it also\ncontains, emergent from the rest and towering above the rubbish, the\nserene forms of the Olympians. Those furnish the vital and important\nelements of Greek mythology. To perfect them was the work of poets and\nsculptors in the brief, bright blooming time of Hellas. Yet, when we\npay these deities homage in the temple of the human spirit, let us not\nforget that they first received form in the mythopoeic age--the age of\n\"the disease of language,\" as Max M\u00fcller whimsically states it.\n\nIn order to comprehend a problem so complex as that which is offered\nby mythology, we must not be satisfied with approaching it from one\npoint of view, but must sift opinion, submit our theory to the crucible\nin more than one experiment, and, after all our labor, be content\nto find that much remains still unexplained. Therefore, it will not\ndo to accept without further inquiry the general description of the\nmythopoeic faculty which has just been advanced. After examining the\nvarious methods which may be adopted for dealing with the myths, and\nwelcoming the light which can be thrown upon the subject from different\nquarters, it will, perhaps, be possible to return to the original\nposition with a fuller understanding of the problem. If nothing else\nbe gained by this process, it is, at least, useful to be reminded that\nintricate historical questions cannot be settled by one answer alone;\nthat a variety of agencies must be admitted; and that the domination of\na favorite hypothesis is prejudicial to the end which serious inquiry\nhas in view.\n\nRegarding the Greek myths in their totality as a thickly tufted\njungle of inexplicable stories, and presupposing the activity of the\nmythopoeic faculty to be a play of irrational fancy, it is possible\nfor the political historian to state them as he finds them, and then\nto pass on and to disregard them. This is, practically speaking,\nwhat Grote has done, though the luminous and exhaustive treatment of\nmythology in his sixteenth chapter proves his complete mastery of\nthe subject from the philosophic point of view. Solely occupied with\nhistory, and especially interested in political history, when he has\nonce recognized \"the uselessness of digging for a supposed basis of\ntruth\" in legends which relate to \"a past which was never present,\" he\nis justified in leaving them alone. The strong political bias which\nconcentrates attention upon the development of constitutions and the\nhistory of states, while it throws the \u00e6sthetic activity of the race\ninto the background, sufficiently accounts for this negative relation\nto the myths. Its value for our purpose consists in the recognition\nthat mythology must not be confounded with history.\n\nAnother method of dealing with mythology requires a passing notice,\nand a brief dismissal. It has not unfrequently been suggested at\nuncritical periods of culture, and by uncritical minds in our own\nage, that the Greek myths are the degradation of primitive truth\nrevealed to mankind by God. As they are Christians who advance this\nview, the essential dogmas of Christianity are sought for in the Greek\nPantheon. The three persons of the Trinity, the personality of the\ndevil, the Divine Redeemer, and so forth, are read into the sagas of\nKronos and Prometheus and Phoebus. To bring arguments against a theory\nso visionary, and so devoid of real historical imagination, would\nbe superfluous. Otherwise, it might be questioned how a primitive\nrevelation, after undergoing such complete disintegration and\ndebasement, blossomed forth again into the \u00e6sthetical beauty which no\none can deny to be the special property of the Greek race. According\nto the terms of the hypothesis, a primal truth was first degraded, so\nas to lose its spiritual character; and then, from this corruption of\ndecay, arose a polytheism eminently artistic, which produced works of\nbeauty in their kind unsurpassable, but in their essence diverse from\nthe starting-point of revelation. Moreover, the very dogmas which these\nvisionaries detect in Greek mythology had an historical development\nposterior to the formation of the Greek Olympus. It was, for instance,\nthe Greek genius in its old age which gave the substantiality of\nthought to the doctrine of the Trinity. The only good to be got from\nthe consideration of this vain method is the conviction that a problem\nlike that of Greek mythology must be studied in itself and for itself.\nWhatever its antecedents may have been, its outgrowth in poetry,\nphilosophy, and sculpture--in other words, its realized or permanent\nmanifestation--is not Christian, and has nothing but general human\nelements in common with Christianity.\n\nA third hypothesis for the explanation of Greek myths, which used\nto find much favor with the learned, may be stated thus. Myths were\noriginally invented by priests and sages, in order to convey to\nthe popular mind weighty truths and doctrines which could not be\ncommunicated in abstract terms to weak intelligences. Thus, each myth\nwas a dark speech uttered in parables. The first fatal objection to\nthis theory is that it does not fulfil its own conditions. To extract a\nbody of doctrine from the vast majority of the myths is not possible.\nMoreover, it is an inversion of the natural order to assume that\npriests and sages in a very early age of culture should have been\nable to arrive at profound truth, and clever enough to clothe it in\nparable, and yet that, as the nation grew in mental power, the truths\nshould have been forgotten, and the symbols which expressed them have\nbeen taken as truth in and for itself. Without, however, entering\ninto a discussion of this hypothesis in detail, it is enough to point\nout that it implies the same incapacity for realizing the early\nconditions of society which is involved in Locke's and Adam Smith's\ntheory of the Origin of Language. It presupposes fully developed\nintelligence, whereas we are concerned precisely with the first and\ngerminal commencement of intelligence. At the same time there is a\ncertain foundation for the symbolic theory. Just in the same way as all\nlanguage is unconsciously metaphorical, so all myths are parabolical,\ninasmuch as they involve the operation of thought seeking to express\nitself externally. The mistake lies in maintaining that the parabolic\nform was deliberately used in the prehistoric period. Its deliberate\nemployment must rather be confined to the age of self-conscious\nthinking. Thus the myths by which Plato illustrated his philosophy,\nthe Empedoclean parable of Love and Hate, the Choice of Herakles\ninvented by the sophist Prodicus, are purposely symbolical. It is also\nworth noticing that, among genuine myths, those which seem to justify\nthis hypothesis are of comparatively late origin, or are immediately\nconcerned with psychological questions--such, for example, as the myths\nof Cupid and Psyche and of Pandora and Epimetheus.\n\nA fourth way of dealing with mythology is to rationalize it, by\nassuming that all the marvellous stories told about the gods and heroes\nhad historical foundation in the past. Myths, according to this method,\nbecome the reminiscences of actual facts, the biographies of persons,\nwhich in course of time have lost their positive truth. In order to\nrecover and reconstitute that truth, it is necessary to reduce them to\nprose. Thus Hecat\u00e6us, who was one of the earliest among the Greeks to\nattempt this interpretation, declared that Geryon was a king of Epirus,\nand that Cerberus was a serpent haunting the caverns of Cape T\u00e6narus.\nHerodotus, in like manner, explained the sacred black dove of Dodona\nby saying that she was a woman, who came from Egyptian Thebes, and\nintroduced a peculiar cult of Zeus into Hellas. After the same fashion,\nPython, slain by Phoebus, was supposed to have been a troublesome\nfreebooter. \u00c6olus was changed into a weatherwise seaman, the Centaurs\ninto horsemen, Atlas into an astronomer, Herakles into a strong-limbed\nknight-errant. It was when the old feeling for the myths had died\nout among the learned, when physical hypotheses were adopted for the\nexplanation of the heavens and the earth instead of the religious\nbelief in nature-deities, and when prose had usurped on poetry, that\nthis theory was worked into a system. Euhemerus, the contemporary of\nthe Macedonian Cassander, wrote a kind of novel in which he made out\nthat all the gods and heroes had once been men. Ennius translated\nthis work into Latin, and the rationalizing method was called\nEuhemerism. The hold which it has retained upon the minds of succeeding\nages is sufficient to show that it readily approves itself to the\nunderstanding. It seems to make everything quite smooth and easy. When,\nfor instance, we read the revolting legend of Pasipha\u00eb we like to fancy\nthat after all she only fell in love with a captain called Taurus, and\nthat D\u00e6dalus was an artful go-between. Unfortunately, however, there is\nno guide more delusive than Euhemerism. It destroys the true value of\nmythology, considered as the expression of primitive thought and fancy,\nreducing it to a mere decayed and weed-grown ruin of prosaic fact.\nPlato was right when he refused to rationalize the myths, and when,\nby his own use of myths, he showed their proper nature as the vehicle\nfor thoughts as yet incapable of more exact expression. At the same\ntime it would be unphilosophical to deny that real persons and actual\nevents have supplied in some cases the subject-matter of mythology. The\nwanderings of Odysseus, the Trojan War, the voyage of the Argonauts,\nthe kingdom of Minos, the achievements of Herakles, have, all of them,\nthe appearance of dimly preserved or poetized history. Yet to seek to\nreconstruct history from them, \"to dig for a supposed basis of truth\"\nin them, is idle. The real thing to bear in mind is that great men and\nstirring events must have been remembered even in the mythopoeic age,\nand that to eliminate them from the national consciousness would have\nbeen impossible. A nucleus of fact may, therefore, have formed the\nbasis of certain myths, just as a wire immersed in a solution of salts\nwill cause the fluid to condense in crystals round it. But, as in the\ncase just used by way of illustration, we do not see the wire, but the\ncrystals, after the process has been finished, so in mythology it is\nnot the fact but the fancy which attracts our attention and calls for\nour consideration. This illustration might be extended so as to apply\nto any substratum, linguistic, solar, symbolical, or other, that may\nbe supposed to underlie the fancy-fabric of mythology. The truth to be\nlooked for in myths is psychological, not historical, \u00e6sthetic rather\nthan positive.\n\nIn order to make the relation of actuality to imagination in the\nmythopoeic process still more intelligible, another illustration can\nbe drawn from nature. Pearls are said to be the result of a secretion\neffused from the pearl-oyster round a piece of grit or thorn inserted\nbetween its flesh and the shell in which it lives. To the production of\nthe pearl this extraneous object and the irritation which it causes are\nboth necessary; yet the pearl is something in itself quite independent\nof the stimulating substance. Just so the myth, which corresponds to\nthe pearl, is a secretion of the national imagination which has been\nroused into activity by something accidental and exterior.\n\nIt is possible to take a fifth line and to refer mythology to\nfetichism. Strictly speaking, fetichism can never explain the problem\nof the mythopoeic faculty, except in so far as we may assume it to have\nformed a necessary stage of human development anterior to polytheism.\nGreek mythology, together with Greek nature-worship, would, according\nto this fifth method of interpretation, have to be regarded as a\nrefinement on the savage dread of fetiches. Beginning with a servile\nprostration before the powers of nature, this attitude of simple awe\nwould have been gradually elevated to the height which it attained in\nHomer and Hesiod. In the progressive amelioration of the race myths\nwould thus have occupied a middle place between the fetich and the free\ndivinities of art. Putting aside all the difficulties which involve the\nquestion whether fetichism is rightly regarded as the first attitude\nof man towards nature, it is clear that the fetichistic hypothesis\ncannot cover the whole field of our inquiry. What it does do is to\noffer an explanation of the origin of nature-worship, and to account\nfor the fact that external objects are regarded as living, sentient\nbeings in the myths. Long before the philosophers of Ionia conjectured\nthat the stars are fiery vapors, people fancied they were gods. It\nhas been well observed that the Greeks never speak of a god _of the_\nsun, or a goddess _of the_ moon. They worshipped the sun as a god in\nHelios, the moon as a goddess in Selene. This direct reference of the\nmind to natural things as objects of adoration may, possibly, be a\npurified form of fetichism. But, taken by itself alone, fetichism is\nnot adequate to account for the many-sided, many-featured product of\nthe mythical imagination, which continued active long after the age\nof savagery. Nor, indeed, have the historians, who attribute great\nimportance to this stage of religious feeling, claimed for it so much.\n\nAccording to yet a sixth view the myths are to be considered as\nnothing more or less than poems. This theory is not, at first sight,\nvery different from that which is involved in the first account given\nof the mythopoeic faculty. It is clear that the stories of Galatea,\nof Pan and Pitys, of Hesperus and Hymen\u00e6us, and, in a deeper sense,\nperhaps, of Prometheus and Pandora, are pure poems. That is to say, the\npower which produced them was analogous to the power which we observe\nin poetic creation at the present day, and which has continued the\nmythopoeic age into the nineteenth century. Yet we should lose a great\ndeal in exactitude and fulness of conception if we identified mythology\nwith poetry. Poetry is conscious of its aim; it demands a fixed form;\nit knows itself to be an art, and, as an art, to be different from\nreligion and distinguished from history. Now, mythology in its origin\nwas antecedent to all such distinctions, and to all the conscious\nadaptations of means to ends. Behind the oldest poetry which we possess\nthere looms a background of mythology, substantially existing, already\nexpressed in language, nebulous, potential, containing in itself the\ngerms of all the several productions of the human intellect. The\nwhole intellect is there in embryo; and behind mythology nothing is\ndiscoverable but thought and language in the same sphere. Therefore we\nlose rather than gain by a too strict adherence to what may be termed\nthe poetical hypothesis, although the analogy of poetry, and of poetry\nalone, places us at the right point of view for comprehending the\nexercise of the myth-making faculty.\n\nBefore completing the circle of inquiry by a return with fuller\nknowledge to the point from which we started, it is necessary to\ndiscuss a seventh way of dealing with the problem, which professes to\nbe alone the truly scientific method. It may be called the linguistic\ntheory, since it rests upon analysis of language, and maintains that\nmythology is not so much an independent product of the human mind,\nexpressed in words, as a morbid phase of language, considered as\na thing apart. Max M\u00fcller, who has given currency to this view in\nEngland, states expressly that \"Mythology, which was the bane of the\nancient world, is in truth a disease of language. A myth means a word,\nbut a word which, from being a name or an attribute, has been allowed\nto assume a more substantial existence;\" and again, under mythology \"I\ninclude every case in which language assumes an independent power and\nreacts on the mind, instead of being, as it was intended to be, the\nmere realization and outward embodiment of the mind.\" The first thing\nwhich strikes a student accustomed to regard mythology as a necessary\nand important phase in the evolution of thought, when he reads these\ndefinitions, is the assumption that #mythos# is synonymous with what\nwe mean by word, instead of including the wider content of a story\ntold in words. He is thus led to suspect a theory which contrives to\nmake the problem of mythology pass for a branch of philology. Nor\ncan he comprehend in what sense mythology may be called \"a disease\nof language\" rather than a disease of the mind which uses language.\nDoes Max M\u00fcller mean that language suffered, or that the thinking\nsubject suffered through the action of the bane? He probably means the\nformer; but, if so, language must be supposed to live a life apart from\nthought, triumphing over the freedom of the human mind, and imposing\nits figments on the intellect. Such a belief might seem due partly to\na too exclusive study of language in itself, in the course of which\nthe philologer comes to regard it as disconnected from thought, and\npartly to the neglect of the fact that it is the same human subject\nwhich produces language and myths, that language and thought in their\norigin are inseparable, but that when language has once been started,\nit has to serve the various purposes of thought, and lend itself to\nmyth and poem, philosophical analysis and religious dogma. Another\npoint to criticise is the inevitable corollary that the soul of a great\nnation, like the Greeks, for instance, in the course of its advance to\nthe maturity of art and freedom, passes through a period of derangement\nand disease, by which its civilization is vitiated, its vitality\npoisoned at the root, and all its subsequent achievements tainted;\nand that this spiritual phthisis can be traced to a sickly state of\nlanguage at a very remote historical period when as yet the nation was\nscarcely constituted. Seriously to entertain this view is tantamount\nto maintaining that corruption and disease may be the direct efficient\ncauses of the highest art on which humanity can pride itself, since it\nis indubitable that the poems of Homer and the sculptures of Pheidias\nare the direct outgrowth of that \"bane of the ancient world\" which,\nto quote another pithy saying of Max M\u00fcller, converted _nomina_ into\n_numina_. It is hardly necessary to point out the curious want of faith\nin the Welt-Geist (or God) which this implies; the unimaginative habit\nof mind we should encourage if we failed to discern the excellence\nof a civilization that owed its specific character to mythology;\nthe unphilosophical conclusions to which we might be brought if we\ndenied that the intelligence is free while following the fixed laws\nof its evolution, and that the essential feature in this evolution\nis the advance from rudimentary to more developed thought. Language,\nhowever potent in reaction upon thought, is after all the vehicle\nand instrument of thought, and not its master. This leads to yet a\nfurther criticism: granting that language was \"intended to be the mere\nrealization and outward embodiment of the mind\"--though this is a wide\nbegging of the most difficult of all questions--it does not follow\nthat in mythology language is not pursuing its appointed function. If\nthe mythological phase of thought is less apparent among the Semitic\nthan among the Aryan nations, are we to say that this is so because\nthe Semitic languages escaped the whooping-cough of mythology, or not\nfar rather because the mind of the Aryan races had a greater aptitude\nfor mythology, a greater aptitude for art? In the fifth place, the\ndefinition of mythology is too wide for the special purpose of the\nproblem. Bacon long ago pointed out that one of the chief sources of\nerror arises from our tendency to mistake words for realities. This\nimperfect adjustment of language to the purposes of thought is not\npeculiar to the mythopoeic age. When we use such phrases as \"vital\nforce,\" we are designating the results of observation and experience\nby a word which ought not to be regarded as more than a sign. Yet,\nbecause \"vital force\" has sometimes been recognized as something\npositive and substantially existent, we cannot on that account call\nit a myth without impoverishing the resources of language, and making\none word do the work of two. The truth, therefore, is, that in the\nmythopoeic as in every other age, words have done violence to thought;\nnor need it be contested that the _idola fori_ were more potent in the\ninfancy than in the maturity of intelligence. While concerned with\nthis branch of our critique, it is curious to observe the satisfaction\nwith which the advocates of the linguistic theory use it as the means\nof rehabilitating the moral character of the ancient Greeks, by trying\nto make out that the tales of Oedipus, Pelops, and Kronos owe their\nrepulsive elements to verbal mistakes. To the student it is undoubtedly\na relief to fancy that the incest of Jocasta was originally no more\nthan a figurative way of speaking about the alternations of day and\nnight. He derives, indeed, the same sort of contentment by this\nmethod as the rationalist who explains the legend of Pasipha\u00eb upon\nEuhemeristic principles. Yet it is surely a poor way of whitewashing\nthe imagination of the ancients to have recourse to a theory which\nsees in myths nothing better than a mange or distemper breaking out\nin language, and tormenting the human mind for a season. Nor can the\ntheory be stretched so far as to exonerate the nation from its share of\ninterest in these stories. The people who made the supposed linguistic\nmistakes delighted in the grotesque and fantastic legends which were\nproduced. Even if words deluded them, their wills were free and their\nbrains at work while under the pernicious influence. The real way of\nexculpating the conscience of the Greeks, indicated both by philosophy\nand common-sense, is to point out that in the age of reflection\nthe tragic poets moralized these very myths, and made them the\nsubject-matter of the gravest art, while the sages instituted a polemic\nagainst the confusion of fabulous mythology with the pure notion of\nGodhead obtained by reflection.\n\nThe theory of development which seems to underlie the linguistic\ndoctrine is, that thought in its earliest stage is positive and clear\nand adequate. The first savage who thinks sees the sun, for example,\nand calls it the sun; but in talking about the sun he begins to use\nfigurative language, and so converts his simple propositions into\nmyths. At this point, argues the philologer, he goes wrong and becomes\nthe victim of delusions. The fallacy in this view appears to lie in\nattributing to the simple and sensuous apprehension of the savage the\nsame sort of simplicity as that which we have gained by a process of\nabstraction, and consequently inferring that the importation of fancy\ninto the thinking process implies a species of degeneracy. The truth\nseems rather to be quite the contrary. If we grant, for the sake of\nargument, that the first thoughts are in a certain sense simple, they\nhave nothing in common with the generalizations of the understanding.\nExcept in relation to immediate perceptions, their generality is empty\nuntil it has been filled up with the varied matter of the senses and\nthe imagination. Mythology and poetry are, therefore, an advance upon\nthe primitive prose of simple apprehension. What was a mere round\nball becomes a d\u00e6dal world; and it is not till the full cycle of the\nmyth-creating fancy has been exhausted that the understanding can\nreturn upon a higher level by abstraction to intellectual simplicity.\nThe same is true about theology. The first dim sense of the divine in\nnature as a unity may possibly have been prior to the many deities\nof polytheism; men may have looked upon the open sky and called\nthat god. Yet it was not a retrogression, but an advance from that\nfirst perception to the mythological fulness and variety which gave\nconcreteness to the notion of the deity. In this way the whole content\nof human nature--feeling, sense, activity, and so forth--was imported\ninto the original and hollow notion; or, to state the process with\ngreater accuracy, the germ of thought, by unfolding its potentiality,\nshowed that what had seemed a barren unit was a complicated organism\nwith a multiplicity of parts. It remained for a further stage of\nthought, by reflection and abstraction, to return at a higher level to\nthe conception of intellectual unity. What we have to guard against is\nthe temptation to attribute our own abstractedness, the definiteness of\npositivism, the purity of monotheism, to the first stage of thought.\nOurs is the triumph of the understanding in its vigor over bewildering\nfulness; theirs was the poverty and nakedness of a first awakening\nof intelligence. The same critique might be applied to the theory\nthat language starts with universals. Here, again, all turns upon the\nquestion, What sort of universals? Unless we are cautious, we run the\nrisk of ending in a view almost identical with the theory of primitive\nrevelation, by following which to its conclusions we are forced to\nregard the history of the human race, not as a process of development,\nbut as a series of disastrous errors and of gradual decline.\n\nWhat remains the solid outcome of the linguistic theory is that in the\nmythopoeic age, when there was no criticism and no reflection possible,\nthe _idola fori_ were far more powerful than now, and consequently many\nlegends were invented to account for words of which the true meaning\nhad been forgotten. Accordingly philology is one of the keys by which\nthe door of mythology may be unlocked. At the same time, considering\nthe complex relations of thought to language, especially in their\ncommencement, it is wrong to concentrate attention upon language.\nIn like manner, it will be admitted that the genders of the nouns\ncontributed their quota to the personification of female and male\ndeities; but it would be wrong to argue that the _numina_ were divided\ninto male and female because the _nomina_ were so distinguished. In\norder to appreciate the personifying instinct, we must go back in\nimagination to a point beyond the divergence of thought and language;\nand we shall find that if priority can be assigned to either, it will\nbe to thought, as that by which alone the human subject can be said to\nbe. Language has sex because sex is a property of the talking being.\nThe deities are male and female, not because their names have genders,\nbut because the thinking being, for whom sex is all-important, thinks\nits own conditions into the world outside it.\n\nThe linguistic theory for the interpretation of mythology is based\nupon comparative philology, which has proved beyond all contest that\nthe Aryan races had not only their grammar, but a certain number of\ntheir myths in common before the separation of the Hindoo, Hellenic,\nand Teutonic stocks. The Vedic literature exhibits the mythological\nmaterial in rudiment, and its style approximates to that of poetry.\nHence it has been assumed that the disease of language was less\nvirulent in the oldest Aryan writings than it afterwards became in\nHesiod and Homer--the _nomina_ had not as yet been so utterly deformed\nand corrupted into _numina_. The inefficiency of arguments like this\nis that they have no value except in relation to a previously adopted\nview. To the opponent of the linguistic as the only scientific method\nfor the explanation of myths, it is left to answer: What you regard\nas corruption of language I regard as development of thought. What\ninterests me in Greek mythology is precisely this: that the Aryan poems\nhave passed into complicated stories illustrative of pure Hellenic\nmodes of thought and feeling, which in their turn will give occasion\nfor epics, dramas, statues, and philosophies. In the same way, the\namount of similarity which comparative mythology has demonstrated in\nthe myths of all the members of the Aryan family is, from the Greek\nhistorian's point of view, far less important than their differences.\nThe similarity belongs to the stock as it existed in prehistoric\ntimes. The differences mark the external conditions and internal\nqualities of the nations as they played their part in the world's\nhistory. The \"disease of language\" which severally afflicted the\nHindoos, the Persians, the Greeks, and the Scandinavians, turns out\nto be a faithful mirror of their concrete life. Any one, by way of\nillustration, can work out the problem of national psychology offered\nby the nature-worship of the sun in Ormuzd, in Phoebus, and in Balder.\nThe pale and beautiful Balder, who must perish, and whose death\ninvolves the world in wailing; the radiant and conquering Phoebus,\nthe healing deity, the purifier, the voice of prophecy and poetry and\nmusic; Ormuzd, the antagonist of darkness and of evil, the object of\ndesire and adoration to the virtuous and pure--these sun-gods answer\nto the races, as their geographical conditions and their spirit made\nthem. Nor is this all. The mythology of each nation has a physiognomy\nand character of its own--that of the Greeks being clearness and\narticulation in opposition to the formlessness and misty vagueness of\nthe Hindoos. To mistake a Greek tale of deity or hero for a Hindoo tale\nof deity or hero is impossible. While the student of prehistorical\nantiquities will, therefore, direct attention to the likeness revealed\nby comparative mythology, the historian of nations will rather be\nattracted by those differences which express themselves in mature art,\nliterature, and religion.[10]\n\nOne of the most salient points of similarity between the several\nfamilies of Aryan myths concerns those which are called solar legends.\nIn all of these we read of children fated to slay their fathers, of\nstrong giants condemned to obey the rule of feeble princes, of heroic\nyoung men forced to quit their first love for another woman. The\nheroes of these stories are marked out in their cradle by miraculous\nsigns and wonders, or are suckled by wild beasts in the absence of\ntheir parents; in their youth they slay serpents sent to destroy\nthem; in their manhood they shine forth as conquerors. Their death\nis not unfrequently caused by slight and unforeseen, though fated,\noccurrences--by a weapon that strikes the only vulnerable part of their\nbody, in the case of Achilles and Siegfried; by a twig of mistletoe,\nin the case of Balder; by a thorn, in the case of Isfendiyar; by an\nenvenomed mantle, in the case of Herakles. One great mythus fascinated\nthe imagination of Norsemen and Hindoos, Greek and Persian, German\nand Roman; interwove itself with their history; gave a form to their\npoetry; and assumed a prominent place in their religion. So far, it\nmay be said that comparative philology has established something\nsolid, which is at the same time of vast importance for the student of\nprehistorical antiquity. It is also not improbable that these legends\nreferred originally to the vicissitudes of the sun in his yearly and\ndaily journeys through the heavens. Thus much may be conceded to the\nsolar theorists, remembering always that this primitive astronomical\nsignificance, if it existed, was forgotten by the races for whom the\nmyths became the material of poetry and religion. But, unfortunately,\nthe discovery has been strained beyond its proper limits by students\nwho combine a solar theory with the linguistic in their interpretation\nof mythology. In their hands all the myths are made to refer to the sun\nand the moon, to dawn and evening. \"The difficulty,\" says Max M\u00fcller,\n\"which I myself have most keenly felt is the monotonous character\nof the dawn and sun legends. Is everything the dawn? is everything\nthe sun? This question I had asked myself many times before it was\naddressed me by others.\" How consistently Professor Max M\u00fcller found\nhimself obliged to answer this question in the affirmative is known\nto every student of his works, not to mention those of Mr. Cox. The\nhand-books of mythology which are now in vogue in England expound\nthis solar theory so persistently that it is probable a race is\ngrowing up who fancy that the early Greeks talked with most \"damnable\niteration\" of nothing but the weather, and that their conversation on\nthat fruitful topic fell sick of some disease, breeding the tales of\nThebes and Achilles and Pelops's line, as a child breeds measles. It is\ntherefore necessary to subject it to criticism.\n\nThe first point for notice is that mythology lends itself almost as\nwell to meteorological as to solar theories. Kuhn and Schwartz, as\nProfessor M\u00fcller himself informs us, arrived at the conclusion that\n\"originally the sun was conceived implicitly as a mere accident in the\nheavenly scenery.\" Instead, therefore, of finding the sun and the dawn\nin all the myths, they are always stumbling upon clouds and winds and\nthunder. This differing of the doctors is, after all, no great matter.\nYet it warns us to be careful in adopting so exclusively, as is the\npresent fashion, either the solar or the meteorological hypothesis.\nA second consideration which inclines to caution is the facility\nof adapting the solar theory to every story, whether fabulous or\nhistorical. In this sense the famous tract which proved that Napoleon\nthe Great only existed in the mythical imagination may be taken as a\n_reductio ad absurdum_ of the method. A third ground for suspension of\njudgment lies in the very elaborate manipulation which the etymologies\nof such words as Eros, Erinnys, and the Charites have undergone before\nthey yielded up their solar content. But the multiplication of general\nobjections is not to the present purpose. It is enough to bear in\nmind that, however important the sun was to the ancient Aryans, he\ncould not have been everything: he was, after all, but one among many\nobjects of interest; and what requires to be still more remembered, is\nthat the Greeks themselves in dealing with the tales of Achilles, or\nof Kephalos and Prokris, did not know that they were handling solar\nstories. It is, therefore, misleading to base hand-books which serve\nas introductions to Greek literature and art upon speculation about\nthe solar groundwork of the myths. In the works of Homer and Hesiod,\nof \u00c6schylus and Sophocles, the myths were animated with spiritual,\nintellectual, and moral life. To draw the lessons from them which those\npoets drew, to demonstrate the grandeur of the imagination which could\ndeal with those primeval tragic tales, should be the object of the\neducator; not to fill his pages with extremely doubtful matter about\nsun and dawn _ad infinitum_. The true relation of the solar theory\nto a Greek myth may be illustrated by the tale of Herakles, whom the\nGreeks themselves may perhaps have recognized as a solar deity, since\nHerodotus identified him with a Phoenician god.[11] We are therefore\njustified in dealing with this hero as a personification of the sun.\nHerakles is the child of Zeus. He strangles in his cradle the serpents\nof the night. He loves Iole, or the violet-colored clouds of dawn. He\nperforms twelve labors, corresponding to the twelve months of the solar\nyear. He dies of a poisoned robe amid flames that may be taken for the\nblood-red sunset clouds. The maiden Iole, now evening and not morning,\nvisits him again in death; and he ascends from his funeral pyre of\nempurpled mountain peaks to heaven. Let all this be granted. So far\nthe solar theory carries us. But is this all? In other words, is this,\nwhich the current hand-books tell us about Herakles, the pith of the\nmatter as it appeared to the Greeks? When we turn to the _Philosophy of\nHistory_ of Hegel, who worked by another than the solar method, and was\nmore anxious to discover thoughts than etymologies, we read: \"Hercules\nis among the Hellenes that spiritual humanity which, by native energy,\nattains Olympus through the twelve far-famed labors; but the foreign\nidea that lies at the basis is the sun completing its revolution\nthrough the twelve signs of the Zodiac.\" Here we touch the truth. The\nsolar foundation of the mythus is wholly valueless and unimportant--in\nother words, is alien to its essence, when compared with the moral\nimport it acquired among the Greeks. It is the conception of life-long\nservice to duty, of strength combined with patience, of glory followed\nat the cost of ease, of godhead achieved by manhood through arduous\nendeavor--it is this that is really vital in the myth of Herakles. By\nright of this the legend entered the sphere of religion and of art. In\nthis spirit the sophist enlarged upon it, when he told how Herakles in\nhis youth chose virtue with toil rather than pleasure, incorporating\nthus the high morality of Hesiod with the mythical element. If myths\nlike these are in any sense diseased words about the sun, we must go\nfurther and call them immortalized words, words that have attained\neternal significance by dying of the disease that afflicted them. The\nsame remarks apply to all the solar and lunar stories--to Achilles,\nEndymion, Kephalos, and all the rest. As solar myths these tales had\ndied to the Greeks. As poems, highly capable of artistic treatment, in\nsculpture, or in verse, pregnant with humanity, fit to form the subject\nof dramatic presentation or ethical debate, they retained incalculable\nvalue. The soul of the nation was in them. And that is their value for\nus.\n\nTo deny the important part which the sun, like the earth or the sea,\nplayed in early mythology would be absurd. To dispute the illumination\nwhich comparative philology has thrown not only upon the problem of\nthe myths, but also upon the early unity of races until recently\ndivided in our thought, would be still more ridiculous. The point at\nissue is simply this, that in Greek mythology there is far more than\nlinguistic and solar theories can explain, and that _more_ is precisely\nthe Greek genius. The philologer from his point of view is justified\nin directing attention to the verbal husk of myths; but the student of\nart and literature must keep steadily in view the kernel of thought and\nfeeling which the myths contain. It is only by so doing that the poetry\nand art which sprang from them can be intelligently studied. Thus the\nmodern text-books of mythology are misleading, in so far as they draw\nthe learner's mind away from subjects of historical importance to bare\narch\u00e6ology.\n\nAs the result of analysis, the following propositions may be advanced.\nIn the earliest ages the races to whom we owe languages and literature\nand art possessed a faculty which may be called the mythopoeic, now\nalmost wholly extinct, or rather superseded by the exercise of other\nfaculties which it contained in embryo. The operation of this faculty\nwas analogous to that of the poetic; that is to say, it was guided\nby the imagination more than by the dry light of the understanding,\nand its creative energy varied in proportion to the imaginative vigor\nof the race which exercised it. The distinction here introduced is\nall-important; for only thus can we explain the very different nature\nof the Greek and Roman religions. The tendency to personification which\ndistinguishes mythology was due to the instinct of uncivilized humanity\nto impute to external objects a consciousness similar to that by which\nmen are governed--in other words, to regard them as living agents with\nwills and passions like our own. If fetichism be the rudimentary phase\nof this instinct, polytheism indicates an advance by which the mind\nhas passed from the mere recognition of spiritual power in nature to\nthe investment of that power with personal and corporeal qualities.\nBut just as the imagination varies in degree and force in different\nraces, so will this power of carrying the personifying instinct onward\ninto art be found to vary. The Romans stopped short at allegories;\nin other words, they did not carry their personification beyond the\nfirst stage. The Greeks created divine personalities. Many myths\ncontain moral and philosophical ideas conveyed in parables, and some\nof them have indubitable reference to real events and persons. But in\nno case of a primitive and genuine mythus are we to expect deliberate\nfiction or conscious symbolism, or, again, to seek for a discoverable\nsubstratum of solid fact. Entering the sphere of mythology, facts\nbecome etherealized into fancies, the actual value of which lies in the\nexpression of the national mind, so that mythical and spiritual are in\nthis respect synonymous. To use a metaphor, a myth is a Brocken-spectre\nof the thought which produced it, and owes the features by which we\ncan distinguish it to the specific character of the people among\nwhom it sprang into existence. The analysis of language shows that\nthe whole Aryan family held a great number of their myths in common,\nthat many legends are stories told to account for words and phrases\nwhich had lost their original significance, and that in these stories\nthe alternations of night and day and the procession of the seasons\nplayed a very important part. Philology can, however, furnish no more\nthan the prolegomena to mythology. After hearing its report, the\nstudent of Greek art and literature must take the Greek myths at a\nGreek valuation--must consider what they were for the Athenians, for\nexample, and not what they had once been. Finally, it may be remembered\nthat to hope for a complete elucidation of a problem so far removed\nfrom observation and experiment would be vain. The conditions of the\nmythopoeic age cannot be reconstituted; and were they to reappear\nthrough the destruction of civilizations, the reflective understanding\nwould not be present to examine and record them.\n\nThe difficulty which besets the problem of mythology, owing to the\nremote antiquity of the myth-making age, is to some extent removed\nby observing the operation of the mythopoeic faculty in the historic\nperiod. Given social circumstances similar, if even only in a limited\ndegree, to those of the prehistoric age; given a defect of the critical\nand reflective faculty, an absence of fixed records, and a susceptible\ncondition of the popular imagination, myths have always sprung up.\nWhile it is not, therefore, possible to find exact analogies to the\nconditions under which the Greek mythology originated, something may be\ngained by directing attention to medi\u00e6val romance. The legends which\nin Italy converted Virgil into a magician, the epic cycles of Charles\nthe Great and Arthur, the Lives of the Saints, the fable of Tannh\u00e4user\nand the Venusberg, the Spanish tale of Don Juan, and the German tale\nof Faust are essentially mythical. What is instructive about medi\u00e6val\nromance for the student of mythology in general is that here the\nmythopoeic imagination has been either dealing with dim recollections\nof past history, or else has been constructing for itself a story to\nexpress a doctrine. After excluding the hypothesis of conscious working\nto a prefixed end, we, therefore, find in these legends an illustration\nof the sense in which the symbolical and rationalistic theories can\nbe said to be justified. In the case of Virgil, the poetry of Rome's\ngreatest singer never ceased to be studied during the darkest years\nof the dark ages, and his name was familiar even to people who could\nnot read his verse. He was known to have been a pagan, and at the same\ntime possessed with what then seemed like superhuman knowledge. It\nfollowed that he must have been a wizard, and have gained his power\nand wisdom by compelling fiends. Having formed this notion of Virgil,\nthe popular fancy ascribed to him all the vast works of architecture\nand engineering which remained at Rome and Naples, inventing the most\ncurious stories to explain why he had made them. When we turn to the\nCarlovingian cycle, we discover that the great name of the Frankish\nemperor, the memory of his wars, and the fame of his generals have\nsurvived and been connected with the crusading enthusiasm which\npervaded Europe at a later period. Border-warfare between France and\nSpain plays a prominent part in this epic, and gradually the figure\nof Roland usurps upon the more historically important personages. To\n\"dig for a supposed basis of truth\" in the Carlovingian cycle would\nbe vain; yet the view is forced upon us that without some historical\nbasis the cycle would not have sprung into existence, or have formed\na framework for the thought and feeling of one period of the Middle\nAges. The achievements of Arthur must be regarded as still more wholly\nmythological. The more we inquire into his personality, the less we\nfind of real historical subsistence. A Celtic hero, how created it\nis impossible to say, becomes the central figure of the most refined\nromance which occupied the attention of German, French, and British\npoets in the Middle Ages. Round the fictitious incidents of his\nbiography gathers all that chivalry, with its high sense of humanity\nand its profound religious mysticism, conceived of purest and most\nnoble; while, at the same time, certain dark and disagreeable details,\nespecially the incestuous union from which Mordred sprang, remind\nus of the savage and unmoralized origin of the fable. We therefore\nfind in the Arthurian cycle something very much analogous to the\nTale of Troy. The dim memory of a national struggle, an astronomical\nmyth, perchance, and many incidents of merely local interest have\nbeen blended together and filled with the very spirit of the ages\nand the races that delighted in the story as a story. This spiritual\ncontent gives its value to the epic. Medi\u00e6val hagiography furnishes\nabundant examples of the way in which facts transform themselves into\nfables and mythological material is moulded into shape around some\nwell-remembered name, the religious consciousness externalizing itself\nin acts which it attributes to its heroes. When we read the _Fioretti\ndi San Francesco_, we are well aware that the saint lived--his life is\none of the chief realities of the thirteenth century; but we perceive\nthat the signs and wonders wrought by him proceed from the imagination\nof disciples ascribing to St. Francis what belongs partly to the\nideal of his own character and partly to that of monastic sanctity\nin general. In the fable of Tannh\u00e4user we meet with another kind of\nreminiscence. There is less of fact and more of pure invention. The\npagan past, existent as a sort of d\u00e6monic survival, is localized at\nH\u00f6rsel. The interest, however, consists here wholly in the parabolic\nmeaning--whether Tannh\u00e4user ever existed does not signify. His legend\nis a poem of the Christian knight ensnared by sin, aroused to a sense\nof guilt, condemned by the supreme tribunal of the Church, and pardoned\nby the grace of God. In like manner, the lust for knowledge, for power,\nand for pleasure, withheld by God and nature, finds expression in the\nFaust legend; while inordinate carnal appetite is treated tragically\nin _Don Juan_. These three legends deserve to be called myths rather\nthan poems in the stricter sense of the word, because they appear at\nmany points and cannot be traced up to three definite artistic sources,\nwhile it is clear from their wide acceptance that they embodied\nthoughts which were held to be of great importance. In them, therefore,\nwe find illustrated the theory which explains mythology by the\nanalogy of poetry. That the medi\u00e6val myths which have been mentioned\nnever attained the importance of Greek mythology is immediately\naccounted for by the fact that they sprang up, as it were, under the\nshadow of philosophy, religion, and history. They belonged to the\npopular consciousness; and this popular consciousness had no need or\nopportunity of converting its creatures into a body of beliefs, because\nboth science and orthodoxy existed. In the historic period mythology\nmust always occupy this subordinate position; and, perhaps, this fact\nmight be reflected back as a further argument, if such were needed,\nagainst the theories that the Greek myths, while leading onward to the\nGreek Pantheon and Greek art, originated as an undergrowth beneath the\ndecaying fabric of revealed truth or firmly apprehended philosophical\nideas. At all events, both the positive and negative circumstances\nwhich we observe in them confirm the general view of mythology that has\nbeen advanced.\n\nThe Homeric and Hesiodic poems were interposed between the reflective\nconsciousness of the Greeks in the historic age and the mass of myths\nalready existent in Hellas at the time of their composition, and thus\nmythology passed into the more advanced stage of art. It did not,\nhowever, cease on that account to retain some portion of its original\nplasticity and fluidity. It is clear from Pindar and the fragments of\nthe minor lyric poets, from the works of the dramatists, from Plato,\nand from other sources, that what Herodotus reports about Homer and\nHesiod having fixed the genealogies of the gods cannot be taken too\nliterally. Non-Homeric and non-Hesiodic versions of the same tales\nwere current in various parts of Greece. The same deities in different\nplaces received different attributes and different forms of worship;\nand the same legends were localized in widely separated spots. Each\ndivision of the Hellenic family selected its own patron deities,\nexpressing in their cult and ritual the specific characteristics which\ndistinguished Dorian, \u00c6olian, and Ionian Hellas. At the same time\ncertain headquarters of worship, like the shrine of Delphi and the\ntemple of Olympian Zeus, were strictly Panhellenic. In this way it is\nclear that while Greek mythology acquired the consistence of a natural\nreligion, it retained its free poetic character in a great measure.\nThe nation never regarded their myths as a body of fixed dogma, to\nalter which was impious. Great liberty, consequently, was secured for\nartists; and it may be said with truth that the Greeks arrived through\nsculpture at a consciousness of their gods. A new statue was, in a\ncertain sense, a new deity, although the whole aim of the sculptor\nmust, undoubtedly, have been to render visible the thoughts contained\nin myths and purified by poetry, and so to pass onward step-wise to a\nfuller and fuller realization of the spiritual type. It is this unity,\ncombined with difference, that makes the study of Greek sculpture\nfascinating in itself, and fruitful for the understanding of the Greek\nreligion.\n\nIt lies beyond the scope of this chapter to consider how the Greek\nintelligence was first employed upon the articulation of its mythology,\nand next upon its criticism. The tradition of a Titanomachy, or contest\nbetween nature-powers and deities of reason, marks the first step in\nthe former process. The cosmogonical forces personified in the Titans\ngave place to the presiding deities of political life and organized\nsociety, in whom the human reason recognized itself as superior to\nmere nature. Olympus was reserved for gods of intellectual order, and\nthus the Greeks worshipped what was best and noblest in themselves. At\nthe same time the cosmogonical divinities were not excluded from the\nGreek Pantheon, and so there grew up a kind of hierarchy of greater\nand lesser deities. Oceanus, Poseidon, Proteus, the Tritons and the\nNereids, Amphitrite and Thetis, for example, are all powers of the\nsea. They are the sea conceived under different aspects, its divine\npersonality being multitudinously divided and delicately characterized\nin each case to accord with the changes in the element. The same kind\nof articulation is observable in the worship of deities under several\nattributes. Aphrodite Ourania and Aphrodite Pandemos are one as well\nas two. Eros and Himeros and Pothos are not so much three separate\nloves, as love regarded from three different points of view. Here\nthe hierarchy is psychological, and represents an advance made in\nreflection upon moral qualities; whereas in the former case it was\nbased on the observation of external nature. To this inquiry, again,\nbelongs the question of imported myths and foreign cults. The worship\nof Corinthian Aphrodite, for example, was originally Asiatic. Yet,\non entering Greek thought, Mylitta ceased to be Oriental and assumed\nHellenic form and character. Sensuality was recognized as pertaining\nto the goddess whose domain included love and beauty and the natural\ndesires.\n\nMore than the vaguest outlines of such subjects of interest cannot\nbe indicated here. It is enough to have pointed out that as Greek\nmythology was eminently imaginative, fertile in fancy and prolific in\ndramatic incident, so it found its full development in poetry and art.\nOnly through art can it be rightly comprehended; and the religion for\nwhich it supplied the groundwork was itself a kind of art. It is just\nthis artistic quality which distinguished the Greeks from the Romans.\nAs Mommsen well observes, \"there was no formation of legend in the\nstrict sense in Italy.\" The Italian gods were in their origin more\nmatter-of-fact than Greek gods. They contained from the first a prosaic\nelement which they never threw aside; nor did they give occasion to the\ngrowth of fable with its varied fabric of human action and passion.\nThus the legal and political genius of the Latin race worshipped its\nown qualities in these allegorical beings.\n\nThe process hitherto described has been the passage of mythology\ninto religion and the expression of religion by art. When the Greek\nintelligence became reflective in the first dawn of philosophy, it\nrecognized that the notion of divinity, #to theion#, was independent\nand in some sense separable from the persons of the Pantheon in\nwhom it inhered. This recognition led to a criticism of the myths\nby the standard of ideal godhead. Just as the Olympic deities, as\nrepresentative of pure intellect or spirit, had superseded the bare\nnature-forces, so now the philosophers sought to distil a refined\nconception of God from the myths in general. Their polemic was directed\nagainst Homer, in whom, like Herodotus, they recognized the founder\nof the current mythological theology. Both Pythagoras and Heraclitus\nare reported to have said that Homer ought to be publicly thrust from\nthe assembly and scourged. Xenophanes plainly asserted that the Greek\nanthropomorphism was no better than a worship of humanity with all its\nvices, illustrating his critique by adding that just in the same way\nmight lions adore lions and horses horses. His own conception of the\ndeity was monotheistic, to this extent, at least, that he abstracted\nfrom the universe a notion of divine power and wisdom, and ascribed to\nit the only reality. Plato, in the _Republic_, unified these points of\nview, severely criticising Homer for the immorality of his fictions,\nand attributing to his own demiurgic deity those qualities of goodness,\ntruth, and beauty which are the highest ideals of the human spirit.\nIn connection with this polemic against poetical theology, we have to\nnotice the attempts of physical philosophers to explain the universe\nby natural causes, and the great saying of Anaxagoras that reason\nrules the world. Thus the speculative understanding, following various\nlines of thought and adopting diverse theories, tended to react upon\nmythology and to corrode the ancient fabric of Greek polytheism. In\nthe course of this disintegrating process a new and higher religion\nwas developed, which Plato expressed by saying that we ought \"to\nbecome like God, as far as this is possible; and to become like him\nis to become holy and just and wise.\" At the same time those who felt\nthe force of the critique, but could not place themselves at the new\nscientific point of view, remained sceptical; and against this kind of\nscepticism, which implied personal lawlessness, Aristophanes directed\nhis satire. Whatever may have been the attitude of philosophers in\ntheir schools, mythology meanwhile retained its hold upon the popular\nmind. It was bound up with the political traditions, the gentile\ncustoms, the ritual, and the arts of the whole race. To displace it by\na reasoned system of theology, enforced by nothing stronger than the\ntheories of the sages, was impossible. The extent to which philosophy\npermanently affected the creed of thinking and religious men in Greece\nby substituting theism for the fabulous theology of the poets has been\nwell expressed in Plutarch's _Life of Pericles_. \"So dispassionate a\ntemper,\" he observes, \"a life so pure and unblemished in authority,\nmight well be called Olympian, in accordance with our conceptions of\nthe divine beings to whom, as the natural authors of all good and of\nnothing evil, we ascribe the rule and government of the world--not as\nthe poets represent, who, while confounding us with their ignorant\nfancies, are themselves confuted by their own poems and fictions, and\ncall the place, indeed, where they say the gods make their abode, 'a\nsecure and quiet seat, untroubled with winds or clouds,' and 'equally\nthrough all time illumined with a soft serenity and a pure light,'\nas though such were a home most agreeable for a blessed and immortal\nnature; and yet, in the meanwhile, affirm that the gods themselves\nare full of trouble and enmity and anger, and other passions which no\nway become or belong to even men that have any understanding.\" It is\nclear that when the religious consciousness had reached this point of\npurified clairvoyance the race was ready for a more spiritual theology,\nwhich philosophers like Marcus Aurelius found in natural religion,\nwhile the common folk accepted Christianity.\n\nAfter flowing side by side for many centuries, the currents of\nmythological belief and of philosophical speculation reunited at\nAlexandria, where a final attempt was made to animate the Homeric\nPantheon with the spirit of metaphysical mysticism. Homer became a\npriest as well as poet, and the _Iliad_ was made to furnish allegories\nfor an age grown old in intellectual subtlety. This was the last\nperiod of mythology. While Hypatia was lecturing on Homer, the\nChristians were converting the world. To keep the gods of Greece alive\nwas no longer possible. Regarded from the beginning as persons with a\nbody corresponding to their spiritual substance, they had in them the\ncertainty of dissolution. Though removed ideally beyond the sphere of\nhuman chance and change, they remained men and women with passions like\nour own. Pure spirit had not been realized in them; and blind fate had\nfrom the first been held to be supreme above them. Unlike the incarnate\nGod of Christianity, they had not passed forth from the spiritual world\nto abide here for a season and return to it again. Therefore they\nperished. During the domination of medi\u00e6val Christianity the utmost\nthey could do was to haunt the memory like wraiths and phantoms, to\nlinger in neglected and unholy places like malignant powers of evil.\nBut when the force of ascetic Christianity declined, and the spirit\nof humane culture re-awoke in Europe, these old gods reasserted their\nascendency--no longer as divinities indeed, but as poems forming an\nessential element of the imagination. The painters and sculptors of\nItaly gave once more in breathing marble and fair color form to those\nimmortal thoughts. The poets sang the old songs of Hellas in new\nlanguage to new measures. Even the Churchmen invoked God from Roman\npulpits as _Summus Jupiter_, and dignified Madonna with the attributes\nof Artemis and Pallas.\n\nSuch is the marvellous vitality of this mythology. Such is its\nindissoluble connection with the art and culture which sprang from it,\nof which it was the first essential phase, and to which we owe so much.\nLong after it has died as religion, it lives on as poetry, retaining\nits original quality, though the theology contained in it has been\nforever superseded or absorbed into more spiritual creeds.\n\n    NOTE.--I wish to qualify what I have said upon pp. 67-80\n    by stating that my critique of the linguistic and solar\n    theories is not, as I hope, directed in any impertinent spirit\n    against the illustrious teacher to whom, in common with most\n    Englishmen, I owe nearly all my knowledge of comparative\n    mythology, but rather against notions which have gained\n    currency through a too exclusive attention to the origin of\n    Greek mythology. I want to remind students of Greek literature\n    that, after all they may have learned from Sanscrit, they are\n    still upon the threshold of mythology as it was determined by\n    the genius of the Greek race. There is a danger of diverting\n    the mind from questions of thoughts to questions of words, and\n    leading people to fancy that etymological solutions are final.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[8] For this reason the analogy of existing barbarous races will not\nhelp us much, inasmuch as they are not Greeks nor destined to be\nGreeks. This consideration ought to weigh with those who, struck by\nthe depth and beauty of some Greek myths, theorize a corruption of\nprimitive revelation or pure theology to explain them. They ought to\nremember that they are dealing with the myths of Greeks--our masters in\nphilosophy and poetry and art.\n\n[9] The original is quoted in the Notes to Grote, vol. i. p. 474.\n\n[10] The dissimilarity between Greek and Roman religion has often been\nobserved, and will be touched upon below. Supposing it to be proved\nthat the Romans can produce one relic of an Aryan myth in Romulus,\nwe find that their most native deities--Saturnus, Ops, Bellona,\nJanus, Terminus, Concordia, Fides, Bonus Eventus, and so forth--are\nabstractions which have nothing in common with Greek or other Aryan\nlegends. They are the characteristic product of the Roman mind, and\nindicate its habit of thought. In like manner it is only by a crasis\namounting to confusion that Mercurius can be identified with Hermes, or\nHercules with Herakles.\n\n[11] ii. 44.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n_ACHILLES._\n\n    Unity of _Iliad_.--Character of Achilles.--Structure of the\n        whole Poem.--Comparison with other Epics.--Energy Dividing\n        into Anger and Love.--Personality of Achilles.--The Quarrel\n        with Agamemnon.--Pallas Athene.--The Embassy.--Achilles'\n        Foreknowledge of his Death.--The Message of\n        Antilochus.--Interview with Thetis.--The Shouting in\n        the Trench.--The Speech of Xanthus.--The P\u00e6an over\n        Hector's Corpse.--The Ghost of Patroclus.---The Funeral\n        Obsequies of Patroclus.--Achilles and Priam.--Achilles in\n        Hades.--Achilles Considered as a Greek Ideal.--Friendship\n        among the Greeks.--Heroism and Knighthood: Ancient and\n        Modern Chivalry.--The _Myrmidones_ of \u00c6schylus.--Achilles\n        and Hector.--Alexander the Great.--The D\u00e6monic Nature of\n        Achilles.\n\n\nIt is the sign of a return to healthy criticism that scholars are\nbeginning to acknowledge that the _Iliad_ may be one poem--that is\nto say, no mere patchwork of ballads and minor epics put together by\nsome diaskeuast in the age of Pisistratus, but the work of a single\npoet, who surveyed his creation as an artist, and was satisfied with\nits unity. We are not bound to pronounce an opinion as to whether\nthis poet was named Homer, whether Homer ever existed, and, if so,\nat what period of the world's history he lived. We are not bound to\nput forward a complete view concerning the college of Homerid\u00e6, from\nwhich the poet must have arisen, if he did not found it. Nor, again,\nneed we deny that the _Iliad_ itself presents unmistakable signs of\nhaving been constructed in a great measure out of material already\nexisting in songs and romances dear to the Greek nation in their youth,\nand familiar to the poet. The \u00e6sthetic critic finds no difficulty\nin conceding, nay, is eager to claim, a long genealogy through\nantecedent, now forgotten, poems for the _Iliad_. But about this, of\none thing, at any rate, he will be sure, after due experience of the\ntests applied by Wolf and his followers, that a great artist gave\nits present form to the _Iliad_, that he chose from the whole Trojan\ntale a central subject for development, and that all the episodes and\ncollateral matter with which he enriched his epic were arranged by him\nwith a view to the effect that he had calculated.\n\nWhat, then, was this central subject, which gives the unity of a true\nwork of art to the _Iliad_? We answer, the person and the character\nof Achilles. It is not fanciful to say, with the old grammarians of\nAlexandria, that the first line of the poem sets forth the whole of its\naction--\n\n    Sing, goddess, the wrath of Achilles, son of Peleus.\n\nThe wrath of Achilles, and the consequences of that wrath in the misery\nof the Greeks, left alone to fight without their fated hero; the death\nof Patroclus, caused by his sullen anger; the energy of Achilles,\nreawakened by his remorse for his friend's death; and the consequent\nslaughter of Hector, form the whole of the simple structure of the\n_Iliad_. This seems clear enough when we analyze the conduct of the\npoem.\n\nThe first book describes the quarrel of Achilles with Agamemnon and\nhis secession from the war. The next seven books and a half, from the\nsecond to the middle of the ninth, are occupied with the fortunes\nof the Greeks and Trojans in the field, the exploits of Diomede and\nAjax, and Hector's attack upon the camp. In the middle of the ninth\nbook Achilles reappears upon the scene. Agamemnon sends Ulysses and\nPhoenix to entreat him to relax his wrath and save the Greeks; but the\nhero remains obdurate. He has resolved that his countrymen shall pay\nthe uttermost penalty for the offense of their king. The poet having\nforedetermined that Achilles shall only consent to fight in order to\nrevenge Patroclus, is obliged to show the inefficacy of the strongest\nmotives from without; and this he has effected by the episode of the\nembassy. The tenth book relates the night attack upon the camp of the\nTrojan allies and the theft of the horses of Rhesus. The next five\nbooks contain a further account of the warfare carried on among the\nships between the Achaians and their foes. It is in the course of these\nevents that Patroclus comes into prominence. We find him attending on\nthe wounded Eurypylus and warning Achilles of the imminent peril of the\nfleet. At last, in the sixteenth book, when Hector has carried fire\nto the ship of Protesilaus, Achilles commands Patroclus to assume the\narmor of Peleus and lead his Myrmidons to war. The same book describes\nthe repulse of Hector and the death of Patroclus, while the seventeenth\nis taken up with the fight for the body of Achilles' friend. But from\nthe eighteenth onward the true hero assumes his rank as protagonist,\nmaking us feel that what has gone before has only been a preface to his\naction. His seclusion from the war has not only enabled the poet to\nvary the interest by displaying other characters, but has also proved\nthe final intervention of Achilles to be absolutely necessary for the\nsuccess of the Greek army. All the threads of interest are gathered\ntogether and converge on him. Whatever we have learned concerning the\nsituation of the war, the characters of the chiefs, and the jealousies\nof the gods, now serves to dignify his single person and to augment\nthe terror he inspires. With his mere shout he dislodges the Trojans\nfrom the camp. The divine arms of Heph\u00e6stus are fashioned for him, and\nforth he goes to drive the foe like mice before him. Then he contends\nwith Simoeis and Scamander, the river-gods. Lastly, he slays Hector.\nWhat follows in the twenty-third and twenty-fourth books seems to be\nintended as a repose from the vehement action and high-wrought passion\nof the preceding five. Patroclus is buried, and his funeral games are\ncelebrated. Then, at the very end, Achilles appears before us in the\ninterview with Priam, no longer as a petulant spoiled child or fiery\nbarbarian chief, but as a hero, capable of sacrificing his still fierce\npassion for revenge to the nobler emotion of reverence for the age and\nsorrow of the sonless king.\n\nThe centralization of interest in the character of Achilles constitutes\nthe grandeur of the _Iliad_. It is also by this that the _Iliad_ is\ndistinguished from all the narrative epics of the world. In the case\nof all the rest there is one main event, one deed which has to be\naccomplished, one series of actions with a definite beginning and\nending. In none else are the passions of the hero made the main points\nof the movement. This may be observed at once by comparing the _Iliad_\nwith the chief epical poems of European literature. To begin with the\n_Odyssey_. The restoration, after many wanderings, of Odysseus to his\nwife and kingdom forms the subject of this romance. When that has been\naccomplished, the _Odyssey_ is completed. In the same way the subject\nof the _\u00c6neid_ is the foundation of the Trojan kingdom in Italy. \u00c6neas\nis conducted from Troy to Carthage, from Carthage to Latium. He flies\nfrom Dido, because fate has decreed that his empire should not take\nroot in Africa. He conquers Turnus because it is destined that he, and\nnot the Latin prince, should be the ancestor of Roman kings. As soon as\nTurnus has been killed and Lavinia has been wedded to \u00c6neas, the action\nof the poem is accomplished and the _\u00c6neid_ is completed. When we pass\nto modern epics, the first that meets us is the _Niebelungen Lied_.\nHere the action turns upon the murder of Sigfrit by Hagen, and the\nvengeance of his bride, Chriemhilt. As soon as Chriemhilt has assembled\nher husband's murderers in the halls of King Etzel, and there has\ncompassed their destruction, the subject is complete, the _Niebelungen_\nis at an end. The British epic of the Round Table, if we may regard\nSir Thomas Mallory's _Mort d'Arthur_ as a poem, centres in the life and\npredestined death of King Arthur. Upon the fate of Arthur hangs the\nwhole complex series of events which compose the romance. His death\nis its natural climax, for with him expires the Round Table he had\nframed to keep the pagans in awe. After that event nothing remains for\nthe epic poet to relate. Next in date and importance is the _Orlando\nFurioso_ of Ariosto. The action of this poem is bound up with the\ndestinies of Ruggiero and Bradamante. Their separations and wanderings\nsupply the main fabric of the plot. When these are finally ended, and\ntheir marriage has been consummated, nothing remains to be related. The\ntheme of the _Gerusalemme Liberata_, again, is the conquest of the Holy\nCity from the Saracens. When this has been described, there is nothing\nleft for Tasso to tell. The _Paradise Lost_, in spite of its more\nstationary character, does not differ from this type. It sets forth\nthe single event of the fall. After Adam and Eve have disobeyed the\ncommands of their Maker and have been expelled from Eden, the subject\nis exhausted, the epic is at an end.\n\nThus each of these great epic poems has one principal event, on which\nthe whole action hinges and which leaves nothing more to be narrated.\nBut with the _Iliad_ it is different. At the end of the _Iliad_ we\nleave Achilles with his fate still unaccomplished, the Trojan war still\nundecided. The _Iliad_ has no one great external event or series of\nevents to narrate. It is an episode in the war of Troy, a chapter in\nthe life of Peleus's son. But it does set forth, with the vivid and\nabsorbing interest that attaches to true \u00e6sthetic unity, the character\nof its hero, selecting for that purpose the group of incidents which\nbest display it.\n\nThe _Iliad_, therefore, has for its whole subject the passion of\nAchilles--that ardent energy or #M\u00caNIS# of the hero, which displayed\nitself first as anger against Agamemnon, and afterwards as love for\nthe lost Patroclus. The truth of this was perceived by one of the\ngreatest poets and profoundest critics of the modern world, Dante. When\nDante, in the _Inferno_, wished to describe Achilles, he wrote, with\ncharacteristic brevity:\n\n                              Achille,\n        Che per amore al fine combatteo.\n\n                              Achilles,\n    Who at the last was brought to fight by love.\n\nIn this pregnant sentence Dante sounded the whole depth of the\n_Iliad_. The wrath of Achilles against Agamemnon, which prevented him\nat first from fighting; the love of Achilles, passing the love of\nwomen, for Patroclus, which induced him to forego his anger and to\nfight at last--these are the two poles on which the _Iliad_ turns.\nTwo passions--heroic anger and measureless love--in the breast of the\nchief actor, are the motive forces of the poem. It is this simplicity\nin the structure of the _Iliad_ which constitutes its nobleness.\nThere is no double plot, no attempt to keep our interest alive by\nmisunderstandings, or treacheries, or thwartings of the hero in his\naims. These subtleties and resources of art the poet, whom we will call\nHomer, for the sake of brevity, discards. He trusts to the magnitude\nof his chief actor, to the sublime central figure of Achilles, for the\nwhole effect of his epic. It is hardly necessary to insist upon the\nhighly tragic value of this subject. The destinies of two great nations\nhang trembling in the balance. Kings on the earth below, gods in the\nheavens above, are moved to turn this way or that the scale of war.\nMeanwhile the whole must wait upon the passions of one man. Nowhere\nelse, in any work of art, has the relation of a single heroic character\nto the history of the world been set forth with more of tragic pomp\nand splendid incident. Across the scene on which gods and men are\ncontending in fierce rivalry moves the lustrous figure of Achilles,\never potent, ever young, but with the ash-white aureole of coming death\naround his forehead. He too is in the clutch of destiny. As the price\nof his decisive action, he must lay his life down and retire with\nsorrow to the shades. It is thus that in the very dawn of civilization\nthe Greek poet divined the pathos and expounded the philosophy of human\nlife, showing how the fate of nations may depend upon the passions of\na man, who in his turn is but the creature of a day, a ripple on the\nstream of time. Nothing need be said by the \u00e6sthetic critic about the\nsolar theory, which pretends to explain the tale of Troy. The mythus of\nAchilles may possibly in very distant ages have expressed some simple\nastronomical idea. But for a man to think of this with the actual\n_Iliad_ before his eyes would be about as bad as botanizing on his\nmother's grave. Homer was not thinking of the sun when he composed the\n_Iliad_. He wove, as in a web, all elements of tragic pity and fear,\npathos and passion, and fateful energy which constitute the dramas of\nnations and of men.\n\nIn the two passions, anger and love, which form the prominent features\nof the character of Achilles, there is nothing small or mean. Anger\nhas scarcely less right than ambition to be styled the last infirmity\nof noble minds. And love, when it gives the motive force to great\naction, is sublime. The love of Achilles had no softness or effeminacy.\nThe wrath of Achilles never degenerated into savagery. Both of these\npassions, instead of weakening the hero, add force to his activity.\nHomer has traced the outlines of the portrait of Achilles so largely\nthat criticism can scarcely avoid dwarfing them. In looking closely\nat the picture, there is a danger lest, while we examine the parts,\nwe should fail to seize the greatness of the whole. It is better to\nbring together in rapid succession those passages of the _Iliad_ which\ndisplay the character of Achilles under the double aspect of anger and\nlove. The first scene (i. 148-246) shows us Agamemnon surrounded by\nthe captains of the Greek host, holding the same position among them\nas Charlemagne among his peers, or King John among the English barons.\nThey recognize his heaven-descended right of monarchy; but their\nallegiance holds by a slight thread. They are not afraid of bearding\nhim, browbeating him with threats, and roundly accusing him of his\nfaults. This turbulent feudal society has been admirably sketched by\nMarlowe in _Edward II._, and by Shakespeare in _Richard II._ And it\nmust be remembered that between Agamemnon and the Hellenic #basileis#\nthere was not even so much as a feudal bond of fealty. Calchas has just\ntold Agamemnon that, in order to avert the plague, Chryseis must be\nrestored to her father. The king has answered that if he is forced to\nrelinquish her, the Greeks must indemnify him richly. Then the anger of\nAchilles boils over:\n\n    \"Ah, clothed upon with impudence and greedy-souled! How,\n    thinkest thou, can man of the Achaians with glad heart follow\n    at thy word to take the field or fight the foe? Not for the\n    quarrel of the warlike Trojans did I come unto these shores,\n    for they had wronged me not. They never drove my cattle nor\n    my steeds, nor ever, in rich, populous Phthia, did they waste\n    the corn; since far between us lie both shadowy mountains and\n    a sounding sea: but following thee, thou shameless king, we\n    came to gladden thee, for Menelaus and for thee, thou hound, to\n    win you fame from Troy. Of this thou reckest not and hast no\n    care. Yea, and behold thou threatenest even from me to wrest\n    my guerdon with thy hands, for which I sorely strove, and\n    which the sons of the Achaians gave to me. Never, in sooth,\n    do I take equally with thee, when Achaians sack a well-walled\n    Trojan town. My hands do all the work of furious war; but when\n    division comes, thy guerdon is far greater, and I go back with\n    small but well-loved treasure to the ships, tired out with\n    fighting. Now, lo! I am again for Phthia; for better far, I\n    ween, it is homeward to sail with beaked ships: nor do I think\n    that if I stay unhonored wilt thou get much wealth and gain.\n\n    \"Him, then, in answer, Agamemnon, king of men, bespake:\n\n    \"Away! fly, if thy soul is set on flying. I beg thee not to\n    stay for me. With me are many who will honor me, and most of\n    all, the Counsellor Zeus. Most hateful to me of the Zeus-born\n    kings art thou. Forever dost thou love strife, warfare,\n    wrangling. If very stout of limb thou art, that did God give\n    thee. Go home, then, with thy ships and friends. Go, rule the\n    Myrmidones. I care not for thee, nor regard thy wrath, but\n    this will I threaten--since Phoebus robs me of Chryseis, her\n    with my ship and with my followers will I send; but I will\n    take fair-cheeked Briseis, thy own prize, and fetch her from\n    thy tent, that thou mayest know how far thy better I am, and\n    that others too may dread to call themselves my equal, and to\n    paragon themselves with me.\n\n    \"So spake he. And Peleides was filled with grief; and his heart\n    within his shaggy bosom was cut in twain with thought, whether\n    to draw his sharp sword from his thigh, and, breaking through\n    the heroes, kill the king, or to stay his anger and refrain his\n    soul. While thus he raged within his heart and mind, and from\n    its scabbard was in act to draw the mighty sword, came Athene\n    from heaven; for Here, white-armed goddess, sent her forth,\n    loving both heroes in her soul, and caring for them. She stood\n    behind, and took Peleides by the yellow hair, seen by him only,\n    but of the rest none saw her. Achilles marvelled, and turned\n    back; and suddenly he knew Pallas Athene, and awful seemed her\n    eyes to him; and, speaking winged words, he thus addressed her:\n\n    \"Why, daughter of \u00e6gis-bearing Zeus, art thou come hither? Say,\n    is it to behold the violence of Agamemnon, Atreus's son? But I\n    will tell to thee, what verily I think shall be accomplished,\n    that by his own pride he soon shall slay his soul.\n\n    \"Him then the gray-eyed goddess Athene bespake:\n\n    \"I came to stay thy might, if thou wilt hear me, from heaven;\n    for Here, white-armed goddess, sent me forth, loving you both\n    alike, and caring for you. But come, give up strife, nor draw\n    thy sword! But, lo, I bid thee taunt him with sharp words,\n    as verily shall be. For this I say to thee, and it shall\n    be accomplished: the time shall come when thou shalt have\n    thrice-fold as many splendid gifts because of his violence.\n    Only restrain thyself; obey me.\n\n    \"To her, in turn, spake swift-footed Achilles:\n\n    \"Needs must I, goddess, keep thy word and hers, though sorely\n    grieved in soul; for thus is it best. He who obeys the gods,\n    him have they listened to in time of need.\n\n    \"He spake, and on the silver handle pressed a heavy hand, and\n    back into the scabbard thrust the mighty sword, nor swerved\n    from Athene's counsel. But she back to Olympus fared, to the\n    house of \u00e6gis-bearing Zeus unto the other gods.\n\n    \"Then Peleides again with bitter words bespake Atrides, and not\n    yet awhile surceased from wrath:\n\n    \"Wine-weighted, with a dog's eyes and a heart of deer! Never\n    hadst thou spirit to harness thee for the battle with the folk,\n    nor yet to join the ambush with the best of the Achaians.\n    _This_ to thee seems certain death. Far better is it, verily,\n    throughout the broad camp of Achaians to filch gifts when a\n    man stands up to speak against thee--thou folk-consuming king,\n    that swayest men of nought. Lo, of a sooth, Atrides, now for\n    the last time wilt thou have dealt knavishly. But I declare\n    unto thee, and will swear thereon a mighty oath; yea, by this\n    sceptre, which shall never put forth leaf nor twig since that\n    day that it left the stock upon the mountains, nor again shall\n    bud or bloom, for of its leafage and its bark the iron stripped\n    it bare; and sons of the Achaians hold it in their palms for\n    judgment, they who guard the laws by ordinance of Zeus; and\n    this shall be to thee a mighty oath. Verily, and of a truth,\n    the day shall be when sore desire for Achilles shall come upon\n    Achaians one and all. Then shalt thou, though grieved in soul,\n    have no power to help, while in multitudes they fall and die at\n    Hector's murderous hands; but thou shalt tear thy heart within\n    thy breast for rage, seeing thou honoredst not the best of the\n    Achaians aught.\n\n    \"So spake Peleides; and on the earth cast down the sceptre\n    studded with nails of gold; and he sat down upon his seat.\"\n\nWhat is chiefly noticeable in this passage is the grand scale upon\nwhich the anger of Achilles is displayed. He is not content with\ntaunting Agamemnon, but he includes all the princes in his scorn--\n\n    #d\u00eamoboros basileus, epei outidanoisin anasseis.#\n\nWe may also notice the interference of Athene. The Athene of the\n_Iliad_ is a different goddess from the Athene of the Parthenon.\nIn strength she is more than a match for Ares. Her cunning she\nsubordinates to great and masculine ends, not to the arts of beauty\nor to study. She is the saint of the valiant and wary soldier. While\nchecking Achilles, she does not advise him to avoid strife in any\nmeek and gentle spirit. She simply reminds him that if he gets to\nblows with Agamemnon, he will put himself in the wrong; whereas, by\ncontenting himself with sharp words and with secession from the war,\nhe will reduce the haughty king to sue him with gifts and submission.\nAthene in this place acts like all the other deities in Homer when they\ncome into direct contact with the heroes. She is exterior to Achilles,\nand at the same time a part of his soul. She is the expression of both\nthought and passion deeply seated in his nature, the force of his\nown character developed by circumstance, the god within his breast\nexternalized and rendered visible to him alone. What Athene is to the\nson of Peleus, At\u00e9 is to Agamemnon.\n\nThe next passage in which Achilles appears in the forefront of the\nscene is in the ninth book (307-429). Worn out with the losses of the\nwar, Agamemnon has at last humbled his pride, and sent the wisest of\nthe chiefs, silver-tongued Odysseus, and Phoenix, the old guardian\nof the son of Peleus, to beg Achilles to receive back Briseis and to\ntake great gifts if only he will relax his wrath. But Achilles remains\ninflexible. In order to maintain the firmness of his character, to\njustify the righteousness of his indignation, Homer cannot suffer him\nto abandon his resentment at the first entreaty. Some more potent\ninfluence must break his resolution than the mere offer to restore\nBriseis. Homer has the death of Patroclus in the background. He means\nto show the iron heart of Peleides at last softened by his sorrow and\nhis love. Therefore, for the time, he must protract the situation in\nwhich Achilles is still haughty, still implacable towards his repentant\ninjurer. In this interview with the ambassadors we have to observe how\nconfident Achilles abides in the justice of his cause and in his own\nprowess. It is he with his valiant bands who has sacked the Trojan\ncities; it is he who kept Hector from the ships; and now in his absence\nthe Achaians have had to build a wall in self-defence. And for whom has\nhe done this? For the sons of Atreus and for Helen. And what has he\nreceived as guerdon? Nothing but dishonor. These arguments might seem\nto savor too much of egotism and want of feeling for the dangers of the\nhost. But at the end come those great lines upon the vanity of gifts\nand possessions in comparison with life, and upon the doom which hangs\nabove the hero:\n\n    \"You may make oxen and sheep your prey; you may gather together\n    tripods and the tawny mane of horses; but none can make the\n    soul of man return by theft or craft when once it has escaped.\n    As for me,\" he resumes, \"my goddess mother, silver-footed\n    Thetis, warns me that fate lays two paths to bear me deathward.\n    If I abide and fight before the walls of Troy, my return to\n    Hellas is undone, but fame imperishable remains for me. If I\n    return to my dear country then my good glory dies, but long\n    life awaits me, nor will the term of death be hastened.\"\n\nThis foreknowledge of Achilles that he has to choose between a long,\ninglorious life and a swift-coming but splendid death illuminates his\nultimate action with a fateful radiance. In the passage before us it\nlends dignity to his obstinate and obdurate endurance. He says: I am\nsick at heart for the insults thrust on me. I am wounded in my pride.\nToiling for others, I get no reward. And behold, if I begin to act\nagain, swift death is before me. Shall I, to please Agamemnon, hasten\non my own end?\n\nWhen the moment arrives for Achilles to be aroused from inactivity by\nhis own noblest passion, then, and not till then, does he fling aside\nthe thought of death, and trample on a long reposeful life. He is\nconscious that his glory can only be achieved by the sacrifice of ease\nand happiness and life itself; but he holds honor dearer than these\ngood things. Yet, at the same time, he is not eager to throw away his\nlife for a worthless object, or to buy mere fame by an untimely end. It\nrequires another motive--the strong pressure of sorrow and remorse--to\nquicken his resolution; but when once quickened, nothing can retard\nit. Achilles at this point might be compared to a mass of ice and snow\nhanging at the jagged edge of a glacier, suspended on a mountain brow.\nWe have seen such avalanches brooding upon Monte Rosa, or the Jungfrau,\nbeaten by storms, loosened, perchance, by summer sun, but motionless.\nIn a moment a lightning-flash strikes the mass, and it roars crumbling\nto the deep.\n\nThis lightning-flash in the case of Achilles was the death of Patroclus\n(xviii. 15). Patroclus has gone forth to aid the Achaians and has\nfallen beneath Hector's sword. Antilochus, sent to bear the news to\nAchilles, finds him standing before the ships, already anxious about\nthe long delay of his comrade. Antilochus does not break the news\ngently. His tears betray the import of his message, and he begins:\n\n    \"Woe is me, son of brave Peleus! Verily thou shalt hear right\n    sorrowful tidings--Patroclus lies slain; round his corpse they\n    are fighting; stripped it lies, but plum\u00e8d Hector hath his\n    armor.\n\n    \"So he spake. But a black cloud of woe covered the hero. With\n    both hands he took the dust of ashes and flung them down upon\n    his head, and disfigured his fair face, and on his fragrant\n    tunic lay the black cinders. But he, huge in his hugeness,\n    stretched upon the dust lay, and with his hands he tore and\n    ravaged his hair.\"\n\nThus Achilles receives the first shock of grief. When his mother rises\nfrom the sea to comfort him, he refuses consolation, and cries:\n\n    \"My mother, the Olympian hath done all these things; but of\n    what pleasure is this to me, now that my dear friend is dead,\n    Patroclus, whom above all my comrades I honored, even as\n    myself? Him have I slain!\"\n\nThis is the pith and marrow of his anguish. I slew Patroclus: it was\nI who sent him forth to fight. \"Now,\" he resumes a few lines lower\ndown--\"now my soul bids me no longer live or be with men, save only I\nstrike Hector first and slay him with my spear, and make him pay the\nfine of Patroclus.\"\n\nThetis reminds him that if he slay Hector, his own life will be short.\nThis only serves to turn his anguish into desperate resolve:\n\n    \"Straight let me die, seeing I might not come to the aid of my\n    comrade when he was dying. Far from his fatherland he perished.\n    He looked for me that I should have been his helper. But now,\n    since never to my home shall I return, nor was I a light in\n    trouble to Patroclus, nor to my other comrades who are slain\n    by hundreds by the godlike Hector--while I here sit beside\n    the ships, a useless load upon the earth--I who am such as\n    there is none else like me among brazen-coated Achaians in the\n    war--others may be better perchance in council--now let strife\n    perish from among gods and men, with anger which stirs up the\n    prudent even to fury.\"\n\nThus he foregoes his wrath, and flings resentment from him like a\nmantle. Then he rises ready for the fight. \"If death come, let death\nbe welcome. Death came to Herakles. In his due time he comes to me.\nMeanwhile I thirst to make Dardan ladies widows in the land.\"\n\nWhen he next appears, his very form and outward semblance are\ntransfigured. He stands alone and unarmed in the trench. A fire\nsurrounds his head and flames upon his curls. His voice thrills the\narmies like the blare of a victorious trumpet. This is how Homer has\ndescribed him shouting in the trench (xviii. 203):\n\n    \"But Achilles, dear to Zeus, arose, and around his mighty\n    shoulders Athene cast her tasselled \u00e6gis; and about his head\n    the queenly goddess set a crown of golden mist, and from it she\n    made blaze a dazzling flame. As when smoke rises to the clear\n    sky from a town, afar from an island which foemen beleaguer,\n    who all day long contend in grisly war, issuing from their own\n    town; but at sundown beacons blaze in rows, and on high the\n    glare goes up, and soars for neighboring men to see, if haply\n    warders-off of woe may come to them with ships--so from the\n    head of Achilles the flame went up to heaven. He stood at the\n    trench, away from the wall, nor joined the Achaians; for he\n    honored his mother's wise command. There he stood and shouted;\n    and beside him Pallas Athene cried; but among the Trojans\n    he raised infinite tumult. As when a mighty voice, when the\n    trumpet shrills for the murderous foemen that surround a town,\n    so was the mighty voice of the son of \u00c6acus. They then, when\n    they heard the brazen cry of \u00c6acides, in the breasts of all of\n    them the heart was troubled; but the fair-maned horses turned\n    the cars backward; for in their heart they knew the sorrows\n    that were to be. And the charioteers were stricken when they\n    saw the tireless flame terrible above the head of big-hearted\n    Peleus's son blazing. The gray-eyed goddess Athene kindled it.\n    Thrice above the trench shouted the godlike Achilles in his\n    might; thrice were the Trojans and their noble allies troubled.\"\n\nFrom this moment the action of the _Iliad_ advances rapidly. Achilles\ntakes his proper place, and occupies the whole stage. The body of\nPatroclus is brought home to him; he mourns over it, and promises to\nbury it when he shall have slain Hector, and slaughtered twelve sons of\nthe Trojans on the pyre. Then he reconciles himself with Agamemnon, and\nformally renounces anger. Lastly, when he has put on the divine armor\nmade for him by Heph\u00e6stus, he ascends his car, and hastens into the\nfight. But again at this point, when Achilles is at the very pitch and\nsummit of his glory, the voice of fate is heard. It is with the promise\nof the tomb that he enters the battle. Turn to book xix. 399. Achilles\nhas just mounted his chariot:\n\n    \"Fiercely did he cheer the horses of his sire. Xanthus and\n    Balius, far-famed children of Podarg\u00e9, take other heed, I\n    warn ye, how to save your master, and to bring him to the\n    Danaan host, returning of war satisfied; nor leave him, like\n    Patroclus, dead there on the field.\n\n    \"To him, then, from beneath the yoke spake the fleet-footed\n    horse Xanthus, and straightway drooped his head; and all his\n    mane, escaping from the collar by the yoke, fell earthward.\n    Goddess Here, of the white arms, gave him speech:\n\n    \"Verily shall we save thee yet this time, fierce Achilles; but\n    close at hand is thy doomsday. Nor of this are we the cause,\n    but great God in heaven and resistless fate. For neither was\n    it by our sloth or sluggishness that Trojans stripped the\n    arms from Patroclus his shoulders; but of gods the best, whom\n    fair-haired Leto bare, slew him among the foremost, and gave to\n    Hector glory of the deed. We, though we should run apace with\n    Zephyr's breath, the fleetest, as 'tis said, yet for thee it is\n    decreed to perish by the might of God and man.\n\n    \"When he had thus spoken the Erinnyes stayed his voice; and,\n    high in wrath, fleet-foot Achilles answered him:\n\n    \"Xanthus! why prophesy my death? Thou hast no call. Right well\n    know I, too, that it is my fate to perish here, far from dear\n    sire and mother; yet for all this will I not surcease before I\n    satiate the Trojans with war.\n\n    \"He spoke, and vanward held his steeds with mighty yell.\"\n\nThis dialogue between Achilles and Xanthus is not without great\nimportance. Homer is about to show the hero raging in carnage,\nexulting over suppliants and slain foes, terrible in his ferocity. It\nis consistent with the whole character of Achilles, who is fiery, of\nindomitable fury, that he should act thus. Stung as he is by remorse\nand by the sorrow for Patroclus, which does not unnerve him, but rather\nkindles his whole spirit to a flame, we are prepared to see him fierce\neven to cruelty. But when we know that in the midst of the carnage he\nis himself moving a dying man, when we remember that he is sending his\nslain foes like messengers before his face to Hades, when we keep the\nwarning words of Thetis and of Xanthus in our minds, then the grim\nfrenzy of Achilles becomes dignified. The world is in a manner over for\nhim, and he appears the incarnation of disdainful anger and revengeful\nlove, the conscious scourge of God and instrument of destiny. We need\nnot go through the details of the battle, in which Achilles drives the\nTrojans before him, and is only withheld by the direct interposition\nof the gods from carrying Ilium by assault. To borrow a simile from\nDante, his foes are like frogs scurrying away from the approach of\ntheir great foe, the water-snake. Then follow the episode of Lycaon's\nslaughter, the fight with the river-gods, and the death of Hector. To\nthe assembled Greeks Achilles cries (xxii. 386):\n\n    \"By the ships, a corpse, unburied, unbewailed, lies Patroclus;\n    but of him I will not be unmindful so long as I abide among\n    the living and my knees have movement. Nay, should there be\n    oblivion of the dead in Hades, yet I even there will remember\n    my loved comrade. But rise, ye youths of Achaia, and singing\n    P\u00e6an, let us hasten to the ships, and take this slain man with\n    us. Great glory have we got. Divine Hector have we slain, to\n    whom the Trojans in their city prayed as to a god.\"\n\nSo the P\u00e6an rings. But Achilles by the ships, after the hateful\nbanquet, as he calls it in the sorrowful loathing of all comfort, has\nbeen finished, lays himself to sleep (xxiii. 59):\n\n    \"The son of Peleus by the shore of the roaring sea lay, heavily\n    groaning, surrounded by his Myrmidons; on a fair space of sand\n    he lay, where the waves lapped the beach. Then slumber took\n    him, loosing the cares of his heart, and mantling softly around\n    him; for sorely wearied were his radiant limbs with driving\n    Hector on by windy Troy. There to him came the soul of poor\n    Patroclus, in all things like himself--in stature, and in the\n    beauty of his eyes and voice; and on his form was raiment like\n    his own. He stood above the hero's head, and spake to him:\n\n    \"Sleepest thou, and me hast thou forgotten, Achilles? Not in\n    my life wert thou neglectful of me, but in death. Bury me\n    soon, that I may pass the gates of Hades. Far off the souls,\n    the shadows of the dead, repel me, nor suffer me to join them\n    on the river-bank; but, as it is, thus I roam around the\n    wide-doored house of Hades. But stretch to me thy hand, I\n    entreat; for never again shall I return from Hades when once\n    ye shall have given me the meed of funeral fire. Nay, never\n    shall we sit in life apart from our dear comrades, and take\n    counsel together. But me hath hateful fate enveloped--fate that\n    was mine at the moment of my birth. And for thyself, divine\n    Achilles, it is doomed to die before the noble Trojans' wall.\n    Another thing I will say to thee, and bid thee do it if thou\n    wilt obey me: Lay not my bones apart from thine, Achilles, but\n    lay them together; for we were brought up together in your\n    house, when Menoetius brought me, a child, from Opus to your\n    house, because of woful bloodshed on the day in which I slew\n    the son of Amphidamas, myself a child, not willing it, but in\n    anger at our games. Then did the horseman, Peleus, take me, and\n    rear me in his house, and cause me to be called thy squire.\n    So, then, let one grave also hide the bones of both of us, the\n    golden urn thy goddess-mother gave to thee.\n\n    \"Him answered swift-footed Achilles:\n\n    \"Why, dearest and most honored, hast thou hither come, to\n    lay on me this thy behest? All things most certainly will I\n    perform, and bow to what thou biddest. But stand thou near:\n    even for one moment let us throw our arms upon each other's\n    neck, and take our fill of sorrowful wailing.\n\n    \"So spake he, and with his outstretched hands he clasped, but\n    could not seize. The spirit, earthward, like smoke, vanished\n    with a shriek. Then all astonished arose Achilles, and beat his\n    palms together, and spoke a piteous word:\n\n    \"Heavens! is there, then, among the dead soul and the shade of\n    life, but thought is theirs no more at all? For through the\n    night the soul of poor Patroclus stood above my head, wailing\n    and sorrowing loud, and bade me do his will. It was the very\n    semblance of himself.\n\n    \"So spake he, and in the hearts of all of them he raised desire\n    of lamentation; and while they were yet mourning, to them\n    appeared rose-fingered dawn about the piteous corpse.\"\n\nThere is surely nothing more thrilling in its pathos throughout the\nwhole range of poetry than this scene, in which the iron-hearted\nconqueror of Hector holds ineffectual communing in dreams with his\ndear, lost, never-to-be-forgotten friend. But now the pyre is ready\nto be heaped, and the obsequies of Patroclus are on the point of\nbeing celebrated. Thereupon Achilles cuts his tawny curls, which he\nwore clustering for Spercheius, and places them in the hand of dead\nPatroclus. At the sight of this token that Achilles will return no more\nto Hellas, but that he must die and lie beside his friend, all the\npeople fall to lamentation. Agamemnon has to arouse them to prepare\nthe pyre. A hundred feet each way is it built up; oxen and sheep are\nslaughtered and placed upon the wood, with jars of honey and olive-oil.\nHorses, too, and dogs are slain to serve the dead man on his journey;\nand twelve sons of the great-souled Trojans are sacrificed to the\ndisconsolate ghost. Then Achilles cast fire upon the wood, and wailed,\nand called on his loved friend by name:\n\n    \"Hail, Patroclus! I greet thee even in the tomb: for now I am\n    performing all that erst I promised. Twelve valiant sons of the\n    great-souled Trojans with thee the fire devours; but Hector,\n    son of Priam, I will give to no fire to feed on, but to dogs.\"\n\nMeanwhile the pyre of Patroclus refused to burn, and Achilles summoned\nthe two winds, Boreas and Zephyrus, to help him. They at this time were\nfeasting in the house of Zephyrus, and Iris had to fetch them from\ntheir cups. They rose and drove the clouds before them, and furrowed up\nthe sea, and passed to fertile Troy, and fell upon the pyre, and the\ngreat flame crackled, hugely blazing:\n\n    \"All night they around the pyre together cast a flame, blowing\n    with shrill breath, and all night swift Achilles, from a golden\n    bowl, holding a double goblet, drew wine, and poured it on the\n    ground, and soaked the earth, calling upon the soul of poor\n    Patroclus. As when a father wails who burns the bones of his\n    son unwed, so wailed Achilles, burning his friend's bones,\n    pacing slowly round the fire, and uttering groan on groan.\n\n    \"But when the star of dawn came to herald light upon the earth,\n    whom following morn, with saffron robe, spread across the sea,\n    then the pyre languished and the flame was stayed.\n\n    \"The winds again went homeward, back across the Thracian deep.\n    It groaned beneath them, raging with the billow's swell. But\n    the son of Peleus turned from the pyre, and lay down weary, and\n    sweet sleep came upon him.\"\n\nAfter this manner was the burning of Patroclus. And here the action of\nthe _Iliad_ may be said to end. What follows in the last two books is,\nhowever, of the greatest importance in adding dignity to the character\nof Achilles, and in producing that sense of repose, that pacification\nof the more violent emotions, which we require in the highest works\nof tragic art. First come the games around the barrow of Patroclus.\nPresiding over them is Achilles, who opens his treasure-house to the\ncombatants with royal generosity, forever mindful that in honoring\nthem he is paying honor to the great sad ghost of his dead friend. The\nbitterness of his sorrow is past; his thirst for vengeance is assuaged.\nRadiant and tranquil he appears among the chiefs of the Achaians; and\nto Agamemnon he displays marked courtesy.\n\nBut it is not enough to show us Achilles serene in the accomplishment\nof his last service to Patroclus. As the crowning scene in the whole\n_Iliad_, Homer has contrived to make us feel that, after all, Achilles\nis a man. The wrathful and revengeful hero, who bearded Agamemnon on\nhis throne, and who slew the unarmed suppliant Lycaon, relents in\npity at a father's prayer. Priam, in the tent of Achilles, presents\none of the most touching pictures to be found in poetry. We know the\nleonine fierceness of Achilles; we know how he has cherished the\nthought of insult to dead Hector as a final tribute to his friend:\neven now he is brooding in his lair over the Trojan corpse. Into this\nlion's den the old king ventures. Instead of springing on him, as we\nmight have feared, Achilles is found sublime in generosity of soul.\nBegging Patroclus to forgive him for robbing his ghost of this last\nsatisfaction, he relinquishes to Priam the body of his son. Yet herein\nthere is nothing sentimental. Achilles is still the same--swift to\nanger and haughty, but human withal, and tender-hearted to the tears of\nan enemy at his mercy.\n\nThis is the last mention made of Achilles in the _Iliad_. The hero,\nwhom we have seen so noble in his interview with Priam, was destined\nwithin a few days to die before the walls of Troy, slain by the arrow\nof Paris.[12] His ashes were mingled with those of Patroclus. In their\ndeath they were not divided.\n\nOnce again in the Homeric poems does Achilles appear. But this time he\nis a ghost among the pale shadows of Elysium (_Od._ xi. 466):\n\n    \"Thereupon came the soul of Achilles, son of Peleus, and of\n    Patroclus, and of brave Antilochus, and of Ajax, who was first\n    in form and stature among the Achaians after great Peleides.\n    The soul of fleet \u00c6acides knew me, and, wailing, he thus spake:\n\n    \"Zeus-born son of Laertes, wily Ulysses, why in thy heart,\n    unhappy man, dost thou design a deed too great for mortals? How\n    darest thou descend to Hades, where dwell the thoughtless dead,\n    the phantoms of men whose life is done?\n\n    \"So he spake; but I in turn addressed him:\n\n    \"Achilles, son of Peleus, greatest by far of Achaians, I am\n    come to learn of Teiresias concerning my return to Ithaca. But\n    none of men in elder days, or of those to be, is more blessed\n    than thou art, Achilles; for in life the Argives honored thee\n    like a god, and now again in thy greatness thou rulest the\n    dead here where thou art. Therefore be not grieved at death,\n    Achilles.\n\n    \"So spake I, and he straightway made answer:\n\n    \"Console not me in death, noble Odysseus! Would rather that I\n    were a bondsman of the glebe, the servant of a master, of some\n    poor man, whose living were but scanty, than thus to be the\n    king of all the nations of the dead.\"\n\nSome apology may be needed for these numerous quotations from a poem\nwhich is hardly less widely known and read than Shakespeare or the\nBible. By no other method, however, would it have been possible to\nbring out into prominence the chief features of the hero whom Homer\nthought sufficient for the subject of the greatest epic of the world.\nFor us Achilles has yet another interest. He, more than any character\nof fiction, reflects the qualities of the Greek race in its heroic age.\nHis vices of passion and ungovernable pride, his virtue of splendid\nhuman heroism, his free individuality asserted in the scorn of fate,\nare representative of that Hellas which afterwards, at Marathon and\nSalamis, was destined to inaugurate a new era of spiritual freedom for\nmankind. It is impossible for us to sympathize with him wholly, or\nto admire him otherwise than as we admire a supreme work of art; so\nfar is he removed from our so-called proprieties of moral taste and\nfeeling. But we can study in him the type of a by-gone, infinitely\nvaluable period of the world's life, of that age in which the human\nspirit was emerging from the confused passions and sordid needs of\nbarbarism into the higher emotions and more refined aspirations of\ncivilization. Of this dawn, this boyhood of humanity, Achilles is\nthe fierce and fiery hero. He is the ideal of a race not essentially\nmoral or political, of a nation which subordinated morals to art,\nand politics to personality; and even of that race he idealizes the\nyouth rather than the manhood. In some respects Odysseus is a truer\nrepresentative of the delicate and subtle spirit which survived all\nchanges in the Greeks. But Achilles, far more than Odysseus, is an\nimpersonation of the Hellenic genius, superb in its youthfulness,\ndoomed to immature decay, yet brilliant at every stage of its brief\ncareer.\n\nTo exaggerate the importance of Achilles in the education of the\nGreeks, who used the _Iliad_ as their Bible, and were keenly sensitive\nto all artistic influences, would be difficult. He was the incarnation\nof their chivalry, the fountain of their sense of honor. The full\ndevelopment of this subject would require more space than I can here\ngive to it. It will be enough to touch upon the friendship of Achilles\nfor Patroclus as the central point of Hellenic chivalry; and to advert\nto the reappearance of his type of character in Alexander at the very\nmoment when the force of Hellas seemed to be exhausted.\n\nNearly all the historians of Greece have failed to insist upon the\nfact that fraternity in arms played for the Greek race the same part\nas the idealization of women for the knighthood of feudal Europe.\nGreek mythology and history are full of tales of friendship, which\ncan only be paralleled by the story of David and Jonathan in our\nBible. The legends of Herakles and Hylas, of Theseus and Peirithous,\nof Apollo and Hyacinth, of Orestes and Pylades, occur immediately to\nthe mind. Among the noblest patriots, tyrannicides, law-givers, and\nself-devoted heroes in the early times of Greece, we always find the\nnames of friends and comrades recorded with peculiar honor. Harmodius\nand Aristogeiton, who slew the despot Hipparchus at Athens; Diocles\nand Philolaus, who gave laws to Thebes; Chariton and Melanippus, who\nresisted the sway of Phalaris in Sicily; Cratinus and Aristodemus, who\ndevoted their lives to propitiate offended deities when a plague had\nfallen upon Athens--these comrades, stanch to each other in their love,\nand elevated by friendship to the pitch of noblest enthusiasm, were\namong the favorite saints of Greek legendary history. In a word, the\nchivalry of Hellas found its motive force in friendship rather than in\nthe love of women; and the motive force of all chivalry is a generous,\nsoul-exalting, unselfish passion. The fruit which friendship bore among\nthe Greeks was courage in the face of danger, indifference to life\nwhen honor was at stake, patriotic ardor, the love of liberty, and\nlion-hearted rivalry in battle. \"Tyrants,\" said Plato, \"stand in awe of\nfriends.\"\n\nIt may seem at first sight paradoxical to speak at all of Greek\nchivalry, since this word, by its very etymology, is appropriated to\na medi\u00e6val institution. Yet when we inquire what chivalry means, we\nfind that it implies a permanent state of personal emotion, which\nraises human life above the realities of every-day experience, and\ninspires men with unselfish impulses. Furthermore, this passionate\ncondition of the soul in chivalry is connected with a powerful military\nenthusiasm, severing the knight from all vile things, impelling\nhim to the achievement of great deeds, and breeding in his soul a\nself-regardless temper. Both the ancient and the medi\u00e6val forms of\nchivalry included love and arms. The heroes and the knights alike were\nlovers and warriors. The passion which Plato called madness in the\n_Ph\u00e6drus_, and which the Proven\u00e7al troubadours knew by the name of\n_Joie_, was excited in the heroes by their friends, and in the knights\nby their ladies. But the emotion was substantially the same; nor, with\nthe tale of Patroclus and with the whole of Greek history before us,\ncan we allow our modern inaptitude for devoted friendship to blind us\nto the seriousness of this passion among the Greeks. Besides war and\nlove, chivalry implies a third enthusiasm. In the case of the Greek\nheroes this was patriotic; in the case of the medi\u00e6val knights it was\nreligious. Thus, antique chivalry may be described as a compound of\nmilitary, amatory, and patriotic passions meeting in one enthusiastic\nhabit of the soul; medi\u00e6val chivalry as a compound of military,\namatory, and religious passions meeting in a similar enthusiastic habit\nof soul. It is hardly necessary to point out the differences between\nHellenic heroism and Teutonic knighthood, or to show how far the former\nfailed to influence society as favorably as the latter. The Christian\nchivalry of mercy, forgiveness, gentleness, and long-suffering, which\nclaims the title of charity in armor, was a post-Hellenic ideal. Greeks\ncould not have comprehended the oath which Arthur imposed upon his\nknights, and which ran in the following words: \"He charged them never\nto do outrage nor murder, and alway to flee treason; also by no means\nto be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, and alway to\ndo ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen succor upon pain of death.\" The\nmurder of Lycaon by Achilles, the butchery of Dolon by Diomedes, and\nthe treachery practised upon Philoctetes by Odysseus are sufficiently\nat variance with the spirit of this oath; nor do any of the heroic\nlegends tell a tale of courtesy towards women. Thus much about the\nunchivalrous aspects of Greek heroism I have thought it right to say,\nbefore returning to the view which I first stated, that military\nfriendship among the Greeks played for Hellenic civilization a part\nnot wholly dissimilar to that of chivalrous love among the nations\nof medi\u00e6val Europe. Regarded as an institution, with ethics of its\nown, and with peculiar social and political regulations, this Greek\nchivalry was specially Dorian.[13] Yet it spread through all the states\nof Hellas. In Athens it allied itself with philosophy, as afterwards\nat Florence did the chivalry of knighthood; and in Thebes, during the\nlast struggle for Hellenic freedom, it blazed forth in the heroism of\nthe three hundred, who fell together face-forward to the Macedonian\nlances at Ch\u00e6ronea.[14] Meanwhile, Achilles remained for all Greece\nthe eponym of passionate friendship; and even in the later periods of\nGreek poetry the most appropriate title for a pair of noble comrades\nwas \"Achilleian.\" Concerning the abuse and debasement of such passion\namong the historic Greeks, this is not the place to speak. Achilles\nand Patroclus cannot be charged with having sanctioned by example any\nvice, however much posterity may have read its own moods of thought and\nfeeling into Homer.\n\n\u00c6schylus wrote a tragedy entitled the _Myrmidones_, in commemoration of\nthe love of Achilles; and, perhaps, few things among the lost treasures\nof Greek literature are so much to be regretted as this play, which\nwould have cast clear light upon the most romantic of Greek legends. It\nmay also be mentioned in passing that we possess fragments of a play\nof Sophocles which bears the name #Achille\u00f4s erastai#, or _Lovers of\nAchilles_; but what its subject was, and whether the drama was satyric,\nas seems probable, or not, we do not know. The beautiful passage in\nwhich love is compared to a piece of glittering ice held in the hand of\nchildren, has been preserved from it by Stob\u00e6us.\n\nEnough, fortunately, has survived the ruin of time to enable us to\nconjecture how \u00c6schylus, in the _Myrmidones_, handled the materials\nafforded him by Homer. The play, as was frequent, took its name from\nthe chorus who represented the contingent of Thessalian warriors led\nby Peleus's son against Troy. It opened, if we may trust the scholiast\nto the _Frogs_ of Aristophanes, with a reproach uttered by the chorus\nagainst Achilles for his inactivity:\n\n    #tade men leusseis, phaidim' Achilleu,\n    dorilymantous Dana\u00f4n mochthous\n    hous ... eis\u00f4 klisias.#\n\n\"Seest thou these things, glorious Achilles--the sufferings of the\nDanaans beneath victorious spears? Whom thou within thy tent--\" Here\nthe fragment breaks off; but enough has been said to strike the keynote\nof the tragedy. The next fragment, according to Dindorf's arrangement,\nformed, probably, part of Achilles' defence.[15] It is written in\niambics, and contains the famous simile of the eagle stricken to death\nby an arrow fledged with his own feather. Like that eagle, argues the\nhero, have we Greeks been smitten by our own ill-counsel. After the\ndrama has thus been opened, the first great incident seems to have been\nthe arrival of the embassy of Phoenix at Achilles' tent. One corrupt,\nbut precious fragment, put by Aristophanes as a quotation into the\nmouth of Euripides in the _Frogs_, indicates the line of argument taken\nby the ambassadors:\n\n    #Phthi\u00f4t' Achileu, ti pot' androda\u00efkton akou\u00f4n\n    i\u00eakopon ou pelazeis ep' ar\u00f4gan?#\n\nThough the Greek as it stands is untranslatable, the meaning is pretty\nclearly this: Achilles of Phthia, how can you bear to hear of these\nwoes nor lend a helping hand? The next fragment must be received with\ncaution. It occurs in the _Frogs_ as a quotation:\n\n    #Bebl\u00eak' Achilleus dyo kyb\u00f4 kai tettara.#\n\n    Achilles has cast two dice, and four.\n\nOn which the scholiast makes the following remark: \"This is from the\n_Myrmidones_; for the poet feigned them playing dice; and it is the\ncustom of gamesters to cry thus: two, four, three, five. Dionysus says\nthis to show that \u00c6schylus has won.\" Another scholiast puts it in\ndoubt whether the verse be taken from the _Telephus_ of Euripides or\nsome other source. The foundation is, therefore, too slender to build\nupon securely; else we might imagine that, after the departure of the\nambassadors, and perhaps after the equipment of Patroclus for the war,\nAchilles was represented by \u00c6schylus as whiling away the time with his\ncompanions at a game of hazard. Then enters Antilochus, the messenger\nof bad news. He recites the death of Patroclus, and lifts up his voice\nin lamentation. Our next fragment brings the whole scene vividly before\nus:\n\n    #Antiloch', apoim\u00f4xon me tou tethn\u00eakotos\n    ton z\u00f4nta mallon.#\n\nThe words are spoken undoubtedly by Achilles: \"Antilochus, wail thou\nfor me rather than for the dead--for me who live.\" It is again from\na comedy of Aristophanes, the _Ecclesiazus\u00e6_, that this exclamation\ncomes; and in passing we may remark that such frequent citations from\nthis single play of \u00c6schylus by a comic poet prove its popularity at\nAthens. Between the narration of Antilochus and the bringing-in of\nthe dead body of Patroclus there must have been a solemn pause in\nthe dramatic action, which \u00c6schylus, no doubt, filled up with one\nof his great choric passages. Then followed the crowning scene in\nthe tragedy. Achilles, front to front with the corpse of his friend,\nuttered a lamentation, which the ancients seem to have regarded as the\nvery ecstasy of grief and love and passionate remembrance. Lucian,\nquoting one of the lines of this lament, introduces it with words that\nprove the strong impression it produced: \"Achilles, when he bemoaned\nPatroclus's death, in his unhusbanded passion burst forth into the\nvery truth.\" To quote and comment upon the three lines which have\nbeen preserved from this unique Threnos would be here impossible.\nTo understand them at all is difficult, and to recompose from them\nthe hero's speech is beyond our power. The value of the meagre and\nconflicting citations given by Plutarch, Athen\u00e6us, and Lucian lies\nin the impression they convey of the deep effect wrought upon Greek\nsympathy by the passion of the soliloquy. When we call to mind the\nlamentation uttered by Teucer over the corpse of Ajax in the tragedy of\nSophocles, we may imagine how the genius of \u00c6schylus rose to the height\nof this occasion in his _Myrmidones_. In what way the drama ended is\nnot known. We may, however, hazard a conjecture that the poet did not\nleave the hero without some outlook into the future, and that the\nsolemn note of reconciliation upon which the tragedy closed responded\nto the first querulous interrogation of the chorus at its commencement.\nThe situation was a grand one for working out that purification of the\npassions which Greek tragedy required. The sullen and selfish wrath of\nAchilles had brought its bitter consequence of suffering and sorrow\nfor the hero, as well as of disaster for the host. Out of that deadly\nsuffering of Achilles--out of the paroxysm of grief beside the body\nof his friend--has grown a nobler form of anger, which will bring\nsalvation to his country at the certain loss of his own life. Can we\ndoubt that \u00c6schylus availed himself of this so solemn and sublime a\ncadence? The dead march and the funeral lamentations for Patroclus\nmingle with the neighing of war-horses and the braying of the trumpets\nthat shall lead the Myrmidons to war. And over and above all sounds of\nthe grief that is passed and of the triumph that is to follow is heard\nthe voice of fate pronouncing the death-doom of the hero, on whose\n#hamartia# the tragic movement has depended.\n\nThus, in the prime of Athens, the poet-warrior of Marathon, the prophet\nof the highest Hellenic inspiration, handled a legend which was dear\nto his people, and which to them spoke more, perhaps, than it can do\nto us. Plato, discussing the _Myrmidones_ of \u00c6schylus, remarks in the\n_Symposium_ that the tragic poet was wrong to make Achilles the lover\nof Patroclus, seeing that Patroclus was the elder of the two, and\nthat Achilles was the youngest and most beautiful of all the Greeks.\nThe fact, however, is that Homer himself raises no question in our\nminds about the relations of lover and beloved. Achilles and Patroclus\nare comrades. Their friendship is equal. It was only the reflective\nactivity of the Greek mind, working upon the Homeric legend by the\nlight of subsequent custom, which introduced these distinctions. The\nhumanity of Homer was purer, larger, and more sane than that of his\nposterity among the Hellenes. Still, it may be worth while suggesting\nthat Homer, perhaps, intended in Hector and Achilles to contrast\ndomestic love with the love of comrades. The tenderness of Hector for\nAndromache, side by side with the fierce passion of Achilles, seems to\naccount, at least in some measure, for the preference felt for Hector\nin the Middle Ages. Achilles controlled the Greek imagination. Hector\nattracted the sympathies of medi\u00e6val chivalry, and took his place\nupon the list of knightly worthies.[16] Masculine love was Hellenic.\nThe love of idealized womanhood was romantic. Homer, the sovereign\npoet, understood both passions of the human heart, delineating the one\nin Achilles without effeminacy, the other in Hector without sickly\nsentiment. At the same time, Hector's connection with the destinies of\nRome and his appearance in the _\u00c6neid_, if only as a ghost, must not be\nforgotten when we estimate the reasons why he eclipsed Achilles in the\nMiddle Ages.\n\nIt is not till we reach Alexander the Great that we find how truly\nAchilles was the type of the Greek people, and to what extent he had\ncontrolled their growth. Alexander expressed in real life that ideal\nwhich in Homer's poetry had been displayed by Achilles. Alexander set\nhimself to imitate Achilles. His tutor, Lysimachus, found favor in the\neyes of the royal family of Macedon, by comparing Philip to Peleus,\nhis son to Achilles, and himself to Phoenix. On all his expeditions\nAlexander carried with him a copy of the _Iliad_, calling it \"a perfect\nportable treasure of military virtue.\" It was in the spirit of the\nHomeric age that he went forth to conquer Asia. And when he reached\nthe plain of Troy, it was to the tomb of Achilles that he paid special\nhomage. There he poured libations to the mighty ghost, anointed his\ngrave, and, as Plutarch says, \"ran naked about his tomb, and crowned it\nwith garlands, declaring how happy he esteemed him in having, while he\nlived, so faithful a friend, and, when he was dead, so famous a poet\nto proclaim his actions.\" We have seen that the two chief passions\nof Achilles were his anger and his love. In both of these Alexander\nfollowed him. The passage just quoted from Plutarch hints at the envy\nwith which Alexander regarded the friendship of Achilles and Patroclus.\nIn his own life he entertained for Heph\u00e6stion a like passion. When\nHeph\u00e6stion died of fever at Ecbatana, Alexander exaggerated the fury\nand the anguish of the son of Peleus. He went forth and slew a whole\ntribe--the Cosseans--as a sacrifice to the soul of his comrade. He\nthrew down the battlements of neighboring cities, and forbade all signs\nof merry-making in his camp. Meanwhile he refused food and comfort,\ntill an oracle from Ammon ordained that divine honors should be paid\nHeph\u00e6stion. Then Alexander raised a pyre, like that of Patroclus in the\n_Iliad_, except that the pyre of Heph\u00e6stion cost 10,000 talents, and\nwas adorned with all the splendor of Greek art in its prime. Here the\nHomeric ceremonies were performed. Games and races took place; then,\nlike Achilles, having paid this homage to his friend, of bloodshed,\ncostly gifts, and obsequies, Alexander at last rested from his grief.\nIn this extravagance of love for a friend we see the direct working\nof the _Iliad_ on the mind of the Macedonian king. But the realities\nof life fall far short of the poet's dream. Neither the love nor the\nsorrow of Alexander for Heph\u00e6stion is so touching as the love and\nsorrow of Achilles for Patroclus.\n\nIn his wrath, again, Alexander imitated and went beyond his model.\nWhen he slew Clitus in a drunken brawl, there was no Athene at his\nside to stay his arm and put the sword back in the scabbard. Yet his\nremorse was some atonement for his violence. \"All that night,\" says\nPlutarch, \"and the next day he wept bitterly, till, being quite spent\nwith lamenting and exclaiming, he lay, as it were, speechless, only\nfetching deep sighs.\" It is noticeable that Alexander, here also like\nAchilles, conqueror and hero though he was, scorned not to show his\ntears, and to grovel on the ground in anguish. His fiery temper added\nindomitable energy to all he did or felt. In a few years he swept Asia,\ndestroying kingdoms, and founding cities that still bear his name; and\nthough his rage betrayed him now and then into insane acts, he, like\nAchilles, was not wholly without the guidance of Athene. In both we\nhave the spectacle of a gigantic nature moved by passions; yet both\nare controlled by reason, not so much by the reflective understanding,\nas by an innate sense of what is great and noble. Alexander was\nAristotle's pupil. In his best moments, in his fairest and most solid\nactions, the spirit of Aristotle's teaching ruled him and attended him,\nas Achilles was ruled and attended by Pallas. Again, in generosity,\nAlexander recalls Achilles. His treatment of the wife and daughters\nof Darius reminds us of the reception of Priam by the son of Peleus.\nGrote, indeed, points out that good policy prompted him to spare the\nlife of the Persian queen. That may be true; but it would have been\nquite consistent with the Greek standard of honor to treat her with\nindignity while he preserved her life. This Alexander refrained from\ndoing. His entertainment of Stateira was not unworthy of a queen; and\nif he did not exhibit the refined courtesy of the Black Prince, he\ncame as near to this ideal of modern chivalry as a Greek could do.\nIn the last place, Alexander, like Achilles, was always young. Like\nAchilles, he died young, and exists for us as an immortal youth. This\nyouthfulness is one of the peculiar attributes of a Greek hero, one of\nthe distinguishing features of Greek sculpture--in a word, the special\nmark of the Greek race. \"O Solon! Solon!\" said the priest of Egypt,\n\"you Greeks are always boys!\" Achilles and Alexander, as Hegel has most\neloquently demonstrated, are forever adolescent. Yet, after all is\nsaid, Alexander fell far below his prototype in beauty and sublimity.\nHe was nothing more than a heroic man. Achilles was the creature of a\npoet's brain, of a nation's mythology. The one was the ideal in its\nfreshness and its freedom. The other was the real, dragged in the mire\nof the world, and enthralled by the necessities of human life.\n\nIt is very difficult, by any process of criticism, to define the\nimpression of greatness and of glory which the character of Achilles\nleaves upon the mind. There is in him a kind of magnetic fascination,\nsomething incommensurable and indescribable, a quality like that\nwhich Goethe defined as d\u00e6monic. They are not always the most noble\nor the most admirable natures which exert this influence over their\nfellow-creatures. The Emperor Napoleon and our own Byron had each,\nperhaps, a portion of this Achilleian personality. Men of their stamp\nsway the soul by their prestige, by their personal beauty and grandeur,\nby the concentrated intensity of their character, and by the fatality\nwhich seems to follow them. To Achilles, to Alexander, to Napoleon, we\ncannot apply the rules of our morality. It is, therefore, impossible\nfor us, who must aim first at being good citizens, careful in our\ngeneration, and subordinate to the laws of society around us, to\nadmire them without a reservation. Yet, after all is said, a great and\nterrible glory does rest upon their heads; and though our sentiments of\npropriety may be offended by some of their actions, our sense of what\nis awful and sublime is satisfied by the contemplation of them. No one\nshould delude us into thinking that true culture does not come from\nthe impassioned study of everything, however eccentric and at variance\nwith our own mode of life, that is truly great. Greatness, of whatever\nspecies it may be, is always elevating and spirit-stirring. When we\nlisten to the Eroica Symphony, and remember that that master-work\nof music was produced by the genius of Beethoven, brooding over\nthe thoughts of Achilles in the _Iliad_, and of Napoleon upon the\nbattle-fields of Lombardy, we may feel how abyss cries to abyss, and\nhow all forms of human majesty meet and sustain each other.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[12] That the poet of the _Iliad_ in its present form had this legend\nbefore him is clear from books xxi. 297, xxii. 355-360.\n\n[13] See M\u00fcller's _Dorians_, vol. ii. pp. 306-313.\n\n[14] Sections 18 and 19 of Plutarch's _Life of Pelopidas_ contain\nthe best account of the sacred band, and place the Greek chivalrous\nsentiment in the clearest light.\n\n[15] It may be questioned whether this fragment ought not to be\nreferred to the scene with the embassy later on in the play.\n\n[16] See Caxton's Preface to the _Mort d'Arthur_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n_THE WOMEN OF HOMER._\n\n    Helen of Troy--Her Eternal Youth.--Variety of Legends\n        connected with her.--Stesichorus.--Helen in the\n        _Iliad_.--Helen in the _Odyssey_.--The Treatment of Helen\n        by \u00c6schylus.--Euripidean Handling of her Romance.--Helen\n        in Greek Art.--Quintus Smyrn\u00e6us.--Apollonius of\n        Tyana and the Ghost of Achilles.--Helen in the\n        Faust Legend.--Marlowe and Goethe.--Penelope--Her\n        Home-love.--Calypso and the Isle Ogygia.--Circe.--The\n        Homeric and the Modern Circe.--Nausicaa--Her Perfect\n        Girlishness.--Briseis and Andromache.--The Sense\n        of Proportion and of Relative Distance in Homer's\n        Pictures.--Andromache and Astyanax.--The Cult of Heroes\n        and Heroines in Greece.--Artistic Presentation of Homeric\n        Persons.--Philostratus.\n\n    For first of all the spher\u00e8d signs whereby\n    Love severs light from darkness, and most high\n    In the white front of January there glows\n    The rose-red sign of Helen like a rose.\n\n                    Prelude to _Tristram and Iseult_, lines 91-94.\n\n\nHelen of Troy is one of those ideal creatures of the fancy over which\ntime, space, and circumstance, and moral probability exert no sway. It\nwould be impossible to conceive of her except as inviolably beautiful\nand young, in spite of all her wanderings and all she suffered at the\nhands of Aphrodite and of men. She moves through Greek heroic legend\nas the desired of all men and the possessed of many. Theseus bore her\naway while yet a girl from Sparta. Her brethren, Castor and Polydeukes,\nrecovered her from Athens by force, and gave to her \u00c6thra, the mother\nof Theseus, for bondwoman. Then all the youths of Hellas wooed her\nin the young world's prime. She was at last assigned in wedlock to\nMenelaus, by whom she conceived her only earthly child, Hermione.\nParis, by aid of Aphrodite, won her love and fled with her to Egypt\nand to Troy. In Troy she abode more than twenty years, and was the\nmate of Deiphobus after the death of Paris. When the strife raised for\nher sake was ended, Menelaus restored her with honor to his home in\nLaced\u00e6mon. There she received Telemachus and saw her daughter mated to\nNeoptolemus. But even after death she rested not from the service of\nlove. The great Achilles, who in life had loved her by hearsay, but had\nnever seen her, clasped her among the shades upon the island Leuk\u00e9, and\nbegat Euphorion. Through all these adventures Helen maintains an ideal\nfreshness, a mysterious virginity of soul. She is not touched by the\npassion she inspires, or by the wreck of empires ruined in her cause.\nFate deflours her not, nor do years impair the magic of her charm.\nLike beauty, she belongs alike to all and none. She is not judged as\nwives or mothers are, though she is both; to her belong soul-wounding\nblossoms of inexorable love, as well as pain-healing poppy-heads of\noblivion; all eyes are blinded by the adorable, incomparable grace\nwhich Aphrodite sheds around her form.[17]\n\nWhether Helen was the slave or the beloved of Aphrodite, or whether, as\nHerodotus hinted, she was herself a kind of Aphrodite, we are hardly\ntold. At one time she appears the willing servant of the goddess; at\nanother she groans beneath her bondage. But always and on all occasions\nshe owes everything to the Cyprian queen. Her very body-gear preserved\nthe powerful charm with which she was invested at her birth. When the\nPhocians robbed the Delphian treasure-house, the wife of one of their\ncaptains took and wore Helen's necklace, whereupon she doted on a young\nEpirot soldier and eloped with him.\n\nWhose daughter was Helen? The oldest legend calls her the child of Leda\nand of Zeus. We have all read the tale of the Swan who was her father\namid the rushes of Eurotas--the tale which Leonardo and Buonarroti\nand Correggio thought worthy of their loveliest illustration. Another\nstory gives her for the offspring of Oceanus and Tethys, as though, in\nfact, she were an Aphrodite risen from the waves. In yet a third, Zeus\nis her sire and Nemesis her mother; and thus the lesson of the tale of\nTroy was allegorized in Helen's pedigree. She is always god-begotten\nand divinely fair. Was it possible that anything so exquisite should\nhave endured rough ravishment and borne the travail of the siege of\nTroy? This doubt possessed the later poets of the legendary age. They\nspun a myth according to which Helen reached the shore of Egypt on\nthe ship of Paris; but Paris had to leave her there in cedar-scented\nchambers by the stream of Nile, when he went forth to plough the foam,\nuncomforted save by her phantom. And for a phantom the Greeks strove\nwith the Trojans on the windy plains of Ilium. For a phantom's sake\nbrave Hector died, and the leonine swiftness of Achilles was tamed,\nand Zeus bewailed Sarpedon, and Priam's towers were levelled with the\nground. Helen, meanwhile--the beautiful, the inviolable--sat all day\nlong among the palm-groves, twining lotus-flowers for her hair, and\nlearning how to weave rare Eastern patterns in the loom. This legend\nhides a delicate satire upon human strife. For what do men disquiet\nthemselves in warfare to the death, and tossing on sea-waves? Even for\na phantom--for the shadow of their desire, the which remains secluded\nin some unapproachable, far, sacred land. A wide application may thus\nbe given to Augustine's passionate outcry: \"Quo vobis adhuc et adhuc\nambulare vias difficiles et laboriosas? Non est requies ubi qu\u00e6ritis\neam. Qu\u00e6rite quod qu\u00e6ritis; sed ibi non est ubi qu\u00e6ritis. Beatam vitam\nqu\u00e6ritis in regione mortis; non est illic.\" Those who spake ill of\nHelen suffered. Stesichorus had ventured in the #Iliou Persis# to lay\nupon her shoulders all the guilt and suffering of Hellas and of Troy.\nWhereupon he was smitten with blindness, nor could he recover his sight\ntill he had written the palinode which begins:\n\n    #ouk est' etymos logos houtos,\n    oud' ebas en nausin euselmois,\n    oud' hikeo pergama Troias.#[18]\n\nEven Homer, as Plato hints, knew not that blindness had fallen on him\nfor like reason. To assail Helen with reproach was not less dangerous\nthan to touch the Ark of the Covenant, for with the Greeks beauty\nwas a holy thing. How perfectly beautiful she was we know from the\nlegend of the cups modelled upon her breasts suspended in the shrine\nof Aphrodite. When Troy was taken, and the hungry soldiers of Odysseus\nroamed through the burning palaces of Priam and his sons, their\nswords fell beneath the vision of her loveliness. She had wrought all\nthe ruin, yet Menelaus could not touch her, when she sailed forth,\nswan-like, fluttering white raiment, with the imperturbable sweet smile\nof a goddess on her lips. It remained for a Roman poet to describe her\nvile and shrinking:\n\n    Illa sibi infestos eversa ob Pergama Teucros,\n    Et poenas Dana\u00fbm et deserti conjugis iras\n    Permetuens, Troi\u00e6 et patri\u00e6 communis Erinnys,\n    Abdiderat sese atque aris invisa sedebat.[19]\n\nThe morality of these lines belongs to a later age of reflection upon\nGreek romance. In Homer there are no such epigrams. Between the Helen\nof the _Iliad_, reverenced by the elders in the Sc\u00e6an gate, and the\nHelen of the _Odyssey_, queen-like among her Spartan maidens, there has\npassed no agony of fear. The shame which she has truly felt has been\ntempered to a silent sorrow, and she has poured her grief forth beside\nAndromache over the corpse of Hector.\n\nIf we would fain see the ideal beauty of the early Greek imagination\nin a form of flesh-and-blood reality, we must follow Helen through the\nHomeric poems. She first appears when Iris summons her to watch the\nduel of Paris and Menelaus. Husband and lover are to fight beneath the\nwalls of Troy. She, meanwhile, is weaving a purple peplus with the\ndeeds of war done and the woes endured for her sake far and wide:\n\n    She in a moment round her shoulders flings\n    Robe of white lawn, and from the threshold springs,\n    Yearning and pale, with many a tender tear.\n    Also two women in her train she brings,\n    The large-eyed Clymen\u00e9 and \u00c6thra fair,\n    And at the western gates right speedily they were.[20]\n\nEnglish eyes know well how Helen looked as she left her chamber and\nhastened to the gate; for has not Leighton painted her with just so\nmuch of far-off sorrow in her gaze as may become a daughter of the\ngods? In the gate sat Priam and his elders, and as they looked at Helen\nno angry curses rose to their lips, but reverential admiration filled\nthem, together with an awful sense of the dread fate attending her:\n\n    These, seeing Helen at the tower arrive,\n    One to another wing\u00e8d words addressed:\n    \"Well may the Trojans and Ach\u00e6ans strive,\n    And a long time bear sorrow and unrest,\n    For such a woman, in her cause and quest,\n    Who like immortal goddesses in face\n    Appeareth; yet 'twere even thus far best\n    In ships to send her back to her own place,\n    Lest a long curse she leave to us and all our race.\"\n\nIt is thus simply, and by no mythological suggestion of Aphrodite's\ninfluence, that Homer describes the spirit of beauty which protected\nHelen among the people she had brought to sore straits.\n\nPriam accosts her tenderly; not hers the blame that the gods scourge\nhim in his old age with war. Then he bids her sit beside him and name\nthe Greek heroes as they march beneath. She obeys, and points out\nAgamemnon, Odysseus, and Ajax, describing each, as she knew them of\nold. But for her twin brothers she looks in vain; and the thought of\nthem touches her with the sorrow of her isolation and her shame. In the\nsame book, after Paris has been withdrawn, not without dishonor, from\nthe duel by Aphrodite, Helen is summoned by her liege-mistress to his\nbed. Helen was standing on the walls, and the goddess, disguised as an\nold spinning-woman, took her by the skirt, bidding her hie back to her\nlover, whom she would find in his bedchamber, not as one arrayed for\nwar, but as a fair youth resting haply from the dance. Homer gives no\nhint that Aphrodite is here the personified wish of Helen's own heart\ngoing forth to Paris. On the contrary, the Cyprian queen appears in the\ninterests of the Phrygian youth, whom she would fain see comforted.\nUnder her disguise Helen recognized Aphrodite, the terrible queen,\nwhose bondwoman she was forced to be. For a moment she struggled\nagainst her fate. \"Art thou come again,\" she cried, \"to bear me to\nsome son of earth beloved of thee, that I may serve his pleasure to my\nown shame? Nay, rather, put off divinity and be thyself his odalisque.\"\n\n                          \"With _him_ remain,\n    _Him_ sit with, and from heaven thy feet refrain;\n    Weep, till his wife he make thee, or fond slave.\n    I go to him no more, to win new stain,\n    And scorn of Trojan women again outbrave,\n    Whelmed even now with grief's illimitable wave.\"\n\nBut go she must. Aphrodite is a hard taskmistress, and the mysterious\nbond of beauty which chains Helen to her cannot be broken. It is\nin vain, too, that Helen taunts Paris: he reminds her of the first\nfruition of their love in the island Crana\u00eb; and at the last she has to\nlay her down at his side, not uncomplying, conquered, as it were, by\nthe reflex of the passion she herself excites. It is in the chamber of\nParis that Hector finds her. She has vainly striven to send Paris forth\nto battle; and the sense of her own degradation, condemned to love a\nman love-worthy only for the beauty of his limbs, overcomes her when\nshe sees the noble Hector clothed in panoply for war. Her passionate\noutbreak of self-pity and self-reproach is, perhaps, the strongest\nindication given in the _Iliad_ of a moral estimate of Helen's crime.\nThe most consummate art is shown by the poet in thus quickening the\nconscience of Helen by contact with the nobility of Hector. Like\nGuinevere, she for a moment seems to say: \"Thou art the highest, and\nmost human too!\" casting from her as worthless the allurements of the\nbaser love for whose sake she had left her home. In like manner, it was\nnot without the most exquisite artistic intention that Homer made the\nparting scene between Andromache and Hector follow immediately upon\nthis meeting. For Andromache in the future there remained only sorrow\nand servitude. Helen was destined to be tossed from man to man, always\ndesirable and always delicate, like the sea-foam that floats upon the\ncrests of waves. But there is no woman who, reading the _Iliad_, would\nnot choose to weep with Andromache in Hector's arms, rather than to\nsmile like Helen in the laps of lovers for whom she little cared. Helen\nand Andromache meet together before Hector's corpse, and it is here\nthat we learn to love best what is womanly in Leda's daughter. The\nmother and the wife have bewailed him in high thrilling threni. Then\nHelen advances to the bier and cries:\n\n    Hector, of brethren dearest to my heart,\n    For I in sooth am Alexander's bride,\n    Who brought me hither: would I first had died!\n    For 'tis the twentieth year of doom deferred\n    Since Troyward from my fatherland I hied;\n    Yet never in those years mine ear hath heard\n    From thy most gracious lips one sharp accusing word;\n    Nay, if by other I haply were reviled,\n    Brother, or sister fair, or brother's bride,\n    Or mother (for the king was alway mild),\n    Thou with kind words the same hast pacified,\n    With gentle words, and mien like summer-tide.\n    Wherefore I mourn for thee and mine own ill,\n    Grieving at heart: for in Troy town so wide\n    Friend have I none, nor harborer of good-will,\n    But from my touch all shrink with deadly shuddering chill.\n\nIt would have been impossible to enhance more worthily than\nthus the spirit of courtesy and knightly kindness which was in\nHector--qualities, in truth, which, together with his loyalty to\nAndromache, endeared the champion of the Trojans to chivalry, and\nplaced Hector upon the list of worthies beside King Arthur and Godfrey\nof Bouillon.\n\nThe character of Helen loses much of its charm and becomes more\nconventional in the _Odyssey_. It is difficult to believe that the\npoet who put into her lips the last lines of that threnos could have\nventured to display the same woman calm and innocent and queen-like in\nthe home of Menelaus:\n\n    While in his mind he sat revolving this,\n    Forth from her fragrant bower came Helen fair,\n    Bright as the golden-spindled Artemis.\n    Adraste set the couch; Alcippe there\n    The fine-spun carpet spread; and Phylo bare\n    The silver basket which Alcandra gave,\n    Consort of Polybus, who dwelt whilere\n    In Thebes of Egypt, whose great houses save\n    Wealth in their walls, large store, and pomp of treasure brave.\n\nHelen shows her prudence and insight by at once declaring the stranger\nguest to be Telemachus; busy with housewifely kindness, she prepares\nfor him a comfortable couch at night; nor does she shrink from telling\nagain the tales of Troy, and the craft which helped Odysseus in the\nWooden Horse. The blame of her elopement with Paris she throws on\nAphrodite, who had carried her across the sea:\n\n    Leaving my child an orphan far away,\n    And couch, and husband who had known no peer,\n    First in all grace of soul and beauty shining clear.\n\nSuch words, no doubt, fell with honey-sweet flattery from the lips\nof Helen on the ears of Menelaus. Yet how could he forget the grief\nof his bereavement, the taunts of Achilles and Thersites, and the\nten years' toil at Troy endured for her? Perhaps he remembered the\npromise of Proteus, who had said, \"Thee will the immortals send to the\nElysian plains and farthest verge of earth; where dwells yellow-haired\nRhadamanthus, and where the ways of life are easiest for men; snow\nfalls not there, nor storm, nor any rain, but Ocean ever breathes\nforth delicate zephyr breezes to gladden men; since thou hast Helen\nfor thine own, and art the son-in-law of Zeus.\" Such future was full\nrecompense for sorrow in the past. Besides, Helen, as Homer tells, had\ncharms to soothe the soul and drown the memory of the saddest things.\nEven at this time, when thought is troublesome, she mixes Egyptian\nnepenth\u00e9 with the wine--nepenth\u00e9 \"which, whoso drinks thereof when it\nis mingled in the bowl, begets for him oblivion of all woe; through a\nwhole day he drops no tear adown his cheek, not even should his sire\nor mother die, nay, should they slay his brother or dear son before\nhis face, and he behold it with his eyes. Such virtuous juices had the\nchild of Zeus, of potent charm, which Polydamna, wife of Thon, gave to\nher, the Egyptian woman, where earth yields many medicines, some of\nweal and some of bane.\" This nepenth\u00e9 was the secret of Helen's power.\nIn the fifteenth book of the _Odyssey_ we have yet another glimpse\nof Helen in the palace of Menelaus. She interprets an omen in favor\nof Odysseus, which had puzzled Menelaus, and gives to Telemachus a\ncostly mantle, star-bright, the weft of her own loom, produced from the\nvery bottom of the chest in which she stored her treasures. The only\nshadow cast upon Helen in the _Odyssey_ is to be found lurking in the\nominous name of Megapenthes, Menelaus's son by a slave-woman, who was\ndestined after his sire's death to expel her from fair Laced\u00e6mon. We\nmay remember that it was on the occasion of the spousal of this son to\nAlector's daughter, and of the sending of Hermione to be the bride of\nNeoptolemus, that Telemachus first appeared before the eyes of Helen.\n\nThe charm of Helen in the Homeric poems is due in a great measure to\nthe _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ of the poet's art. The situations in which she appears\nare never strained, nor is the ethical feeling, though indicated,\nsuffered to disturb the calm influence of her beauty. This is not the\ncase with \u00c6schylus. Already, as before hinted, Stesichorus in his lyric\ninterludes had ventured to assail the character of Helen, applying\nto her conduct the moral standard which Homer kept carefully out of\nsight. \u00c6schylus goes further. His object was to use Hellenic romance as\nthe subject-matter for a series of dramatic studies which should set\nforth his conception of the divine government of the world. A genius\nfor tragedy which has never been surpassed was subordinated by him to a\nsublime philosophy of human life. It was no longer possible for Helen\nto escape judgment. Her very name supplied the keynote of reproach.\nRightly was she called Helen--#helenaus, helandros, heleptolis#--\"a\nhell of ships, hell of men, hell of cities,\" she sailed forth to Troy,\nand the heedless Trojans sang marriage-songs in her praise, which soon\nwere turned to songs of mourning for her sake. She, whom they welcomed\nas \"a spirit of unruffled calm, a gentle ornament of wealth, a darter\nof soft glances, a soul-wounding love-blossom,\" was found to be no\nless a source of mischief than is a young lion nurtured in the palace\nfor the ruin of its heirs. Soon had the Trojans reason to revile her\nas a \"Fury bringing woe on wives.\" The choruses of the _Agamemnon_\nare weighted with the burden of her sin. \"#I\u00f4 i\u00f4 paranous Helena#,\"\nit breaks forth: \"thine is the blood-guilt of those many, many souls\nslain beneath Troy walls!\" She is incarnate At\u00e9, the soul-seducing,\ncrime-engendering, woe-begetting curse of two great nations. Zeus,\nthrough her sin, wrought ruin for the house of Priam, wanton in its\nwealth. In the dark came blinded Paris and stole her forth, and she\nwent lightly through her husband's doors, and dared a hateful deed.\nMenelaus, meanwhile, gazed on the desecrated marriage-bed, and seemed\nto see her floating through his halls; and the sight of beauteous\nstatues grew distasteful to his eyes, and he yearned for her across\nthe sea in dreams. Naught was left, when morning came, but vain\nforth-stretchings of eager hands after the shapes that follow on the\npaths of sleep. Then war awoke, and Ares, who barters the bodies of\nmen for gold, kept sending home to Hellas from Troy a little white\ndust stored in brazen urns. It is thus that \u00c6schylus places in the\nforeground, not the witchery of Helen and the charms of Aphrodite, but\nher lightness and her sin, the woe it wrought for her husband, and\nthe heavy griefs that through her fell on Troy and Hellas. It would\nbe impossible to moralize the consequences of the woman's crime with\ngreater sternness.\n\nUnfortunately we have no means of stating how Sophocles dealt with the\nromance of Helen. Judging by analogy, however, we may feel sure that in\nthis, as in other instances, he advanced beyond the ethical standpoint\nof \u00c6schylus, by treating the child of Leda, no longer as an incarnation\nof d\u00e6monic At\u00e9, but as a woman whose character deserved the most\nprofound analysis. Euripides, as usual, went a step further. The bloom\nof unconscious innocence had been brushed by \u00c6schylus from the flower\nof Greek romance. It was impossible for any subsequent dramatist to\navoid in some way moralizing the character of Helen. The way selected\nby Euripides was to bring her down to the level of common life. The\nscene in the _Troades_ in which Helen stands up to plead for her life\nagainst Hecuba before the angry Menelaus is one of the most complete\ninstances of the Euripidean sophistry. The tragic circumstances of Troy\nin ruins and of injured husband face to face with guilty wife are all\nforgotten, while Helen develops a very clever defence of her conduct in\na long rhetorical oration. The theatre is turned into a law-court, and\nforensic eloquence is substituted for dramatic poetry. Hecuba replies\nwith an elaborate description of the lewdness, vanity, and guile of\nHelen, which we may take to be a fair statement of the poet's own\nconception of her character, since in the _Orestes_ he puts similar\ncharges into the mouth of Agamemnon's daughter. There is no doubt that\nHecuba has the best of the argument. She paints the beauty of her son\nParis and the barbaric pomp which he displayed at Sparta. Then turning\nto Helen--\n\n    #ho sos d' id\u00f4n nin nous epoi\u00eath\u00ea kypris;\n    ta m\u00f4ra gar pant' estin Aphrodit\u00ea brotois,\n    kai tounom' orth\u00f4s aphrosyn\u00eas archei theas.#[21]\n\nSententious epigrams like this, by which the myths were philosophized\nto suit the occasions of daily life, exactly suited the temper of the\nAthenian audience in the age of Euripides. But Hecuba proceeds: \"You\nplayed your husband off against your lover, and your lover against your\nhusband, hoping always to keep the one or the other by your artifice;\nand when Troy fell, no one found you tying the halter or sharpening the\nknife against your own throat, as any decent woman in your position\nwould have done.\" At the end of her speech she seems to have convinced\nMenelaus, who orders the attendants to carry off Helen to the ships, in\norder that she may be taken to Argos and killed there. Hecuba begs him\nnot to embark her on the same boat with himself. \"Why?\" he asks. \"Is\nshe heavier than she used to be?\" The answer is significant:\n\n    #ouk est' erast\u00eas hostis ouk aei philei.#\n\n\"Once a lover, always a lover.\" And so it turns out; for, at the\nopening of the _Orestes_, Helen arrives in comfort at the side of\nMenelaus. He now is afraid lest she should be seized and stoned by the\nArgives, whose children had been slain for her sake in Troy. Nor is\nthe fear vain. Orestes and Pylades lay hold of her, and already the\nknife is at her throat, when Phoebus descends and declares that Helen\nhas been caught up to heaven to reign with her brothers Castor and\nPolydeukes. A more unethical termination to her adventures can hardly\nbe imagined; for Euripides, following hitherto upon the lines of the\nHomeric story, has been at great pains to analyze her legend into a\ncommon tale of adultery and female fascination. He now suddenly shifts\nhis ground and deifies the woman he had sedulously vilified before. His\ntrue feeling about Helen is expressed in the lines spoken by Electra to\nClytemnestra (_Electra_, 1062):\n\n    #to men gar eidos ainon axion pherei\n    Helen\u00eas te kai sou, dyo d' ephyte syngon\u00f4,\n    amph\u00f4 matai\u00f4 Kastoros t' ouk axi\u00f4.\n    h\u00ea men gar harpastheis' hekous' ap\u00f4leto,\n    sy d' andr' ariston Hellados di\u00f4lesas.#\n\n\"You and your sister are a proper pair, and your beauty has brought you\nthe credit you deserve: both are light women and unworthy of Castor;\nfor Helen allowed herself to be ravished and undone, while you killed\nthe best man in Greece.\" Further illustrations of the Euripidean\nconception of Helen as a worthless woman, who had the art to reconquer\na weak husband's affection, might be drawn from the tirade of Peleus\nagainst Menelaus in the _Andromache_ (590, etc.).[22]\n\nThis Euripidean reading of the character of Helen was natural to a\nsceptical and sophistical age, when the dimly moralized myths of\nancient Hellas had become the raw material for a poet's casuistry. Yet,\nin the heart of the Greek people, Homer had still a deeper, firmer\nplace than even Euripides; and the thought of Helen, ever beautiful\nand ever young, survived the rude analysis of the Athenian drama. Her\nromance recovered from the prosaic rationalism to which it had been\nsubjected--thanks, no doubt, to the many sculptors and painters who\nimmortalized her beauty, without suggesting the woes that she had\nbrought upon the world. Those very woes, perhaps, may have added\npathos to her charm; for had not she too suffered in the strife of men?\nHow the artists dealt with the myth of Helen we only know by scattered\nhints and fragments. One bass-relief, engraved by Millingen, reveals\nher standing calm beneath the sword of Menelaus. That sword is lifted,\nbut it will not fall. Beauty, breathed around her like a spell, creates\na magic atmosphere through which no steel can pierce. In another\nbass-relief, from the Campana Museum, she is entering Sparta on a\nchariot, side by side with Menelaus, not like a captive, but with head\nerect and haughty mien, and proud hand placed upon the horse's reins.\nPhilostratus, in his _Lives of the Sophists_, describes an exceedingly\nbeautiful young philosopher, whose mother bore a close resemblance to\nthe picture of Helen by Eumelus. If the lineaments of the mother were\nrepeated in the youth, the eyes of Helen in her picture must have been\nlarge and voluptuous, her hair curled in clusters, and her teeth of\ndazzling whiteness. It is probable that the later artists, in their\nillustrations of the romance of Helen, used the poems of Lesches and\nArctinus, now lost, but of which the _Posthomerica_ of Quintus Smyrn\u00e6us\npreserve to us a feeble reflection. This poet of the fourth century\nafter Christ does all in his power to rehabilitate the character of\nHelen by laying the fault of her crime on Paris, and by describing at\nlength the charm which Venus shed around her sacred person. It was only\nby thus insisting upon the d\u00e6monic influence which controlled the fate\nof Helen that the conclusions reached by the rationalizing process of\nthe dramatists could be avoided. The Cyclic poems thus preserved the\nheroic character of Helen and her husband at the expense of Aphrodite,\nwhile Euripides had said plainly: \"What you call Aphrodite is your\nown lust.\" Menelaus, in the _Posthomerica_, finds Helen hidden in the\npalace of Deiphobus; astonishment takes possession of his soul before\nthe shining of her beauty, so that he stands immovable, like a dead\ntree, which neither north nor south wind shakes. When the Greek heroes\nleave Troy town, Agamemnon leads Cassandra captive, Neoptolemus is\nfollowed by Andromache, and Hecuba weeps torrents of tears in the\nstrong grasp of Odysseus. A crowd of Trojan women fill the air with\nshrill laments, tearing their tresses and strewing dust upon their\nheads. Meanwhile, Helen is delayed by no desire to wail or weep; but\na comely shame sits on her black eyes and glowing cheeks. Her heart\nleaps, and her whole form is as lovely as Aphrodite was when the gods\ndiscovered her with Ares in the net of Heph\u00e6stus. Down to the ships\nshe comes with Menelaus hand in hand; and the people, \"gazing on the\nglory and the winning grace of the faultless woman, were astonished;\nnor could they dare by whispers or aloud to humble her with insults;\nbut gladly they saw in her a goddess, for she seemed to all what each\ndesired.\" This is the apotheosis of Helen; and this reading of her\nromance is far more true to the general current of Greek feeling than\nthat suggested by Euripides. Theocritus, in his exquisite marriage-song\nof Helen, has not a word to say by hint or innuendo that she will bring\na curse upon her husband. Like dawn is the beauty of her face; like\nthe moon in the heaven of night, or the spring when winter is ended,\nor like a cypress in the meadow, so is Helen among Spartan maids. When\nApollonius of Tyana, the most famous _medium_ of antiquity, evoked the\nspirit of Achilles by the pillar on his barrow in the Troad, the great\nghost consented to answer five questions. One of these concerned Helen:\nDid she really go to Troy? Achilles indignantly repudiated the notion.\nShe remained in Egypt; and this the heroes of Achaia soon knew well;\n\"but we fought for fame and Priam's wealth.\"\n\nIt is curious at the point of transition in the Roman world from\npaganism to Christianity to find the name of Helen prominent. Helena,\nthe mother of Constantine, was famous with the early Church as\na pilgrim to Jerusalem, where she discovered the true cross, and\ndestroyed the temple of Venus. For one Helen, East and West had warred\ntogether on the plains of Troy. Following the steps of another Helen,\nWest and East now disputed the possession of the Holy Sepulchre. Such\nhistorical parallels are, however, little better than puns. It is far\nmore to the purpose to notice how the romance of Helen of Troy, after\nlying dormant during the Middle Ages, shone forth again in the pregnant\nmyth of Faustus. The final achievement of Faust's magic was to evoke\nHelen from the dead and hold her as his paramour. To the beauty of\nGreek art the medi\u00e6val spirit stretched forth with yearning and begot\nthe modern world. Marlowe, than whom no poet of the North throbbed more\nmightily with the passion of the Renaissance, makes his Faust exclaim:\n\n    Was this the face that launched a thousand ships\n    And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?\n    Sweet Helen make me immortal with a kiss!\n    Her lips suck forth my soul: see where it flies!\n    Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.\n    Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,\n    And all is dross that is not Helena.\n    I will be Paris, and, for love of thee,\n    Instead of Troy shall Wertenberg be sacked;\n    And I will combat with weak Menelaus,\n    And wear thy colors on my plum\u00e8d crest;\n    Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,\n    And then return to Helen for a kiss.\n    Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air\n    Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;\n    Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter\n    When he appeared to hapless Semele;\n    More lovely than the monarch of the sky\n    In wanton Arethusa's azured arms;\n    And none but thou shalt be my paramour.\n\nMarlowe, as was natural, contented himself with an external handling of\nthe Faust legend. Goethe allegorized the whole, and turned the episode\nof Helen into a parable of modern poetry. When Lynkeus, the warder, is\nreprimanded for not having duly asked Helen into the feudal castle, he\ndefends himself thus;\n\n    Harrend auf des Morgens Wonne,\n    Oestlich sp\u00e4hend ihren Lauf,\n    Ging auf einmal mir die Sonne\n    Wunderbar im S\u00fcden auf.\n\n    Zog den Blick nach jener Seite,\n    Statt der Schluchten, statt der H\u00f6h'n,\n    Statt der Erd-und Himmelsweite,\n    Sie, die Einzige, zu sp\u00e4hn.[23]\n\nThe new light that rose upon the Middle Ages came not from the East,\nbut from the South, no longer from Galilee, but from Greece.\n\nThus, after living her long life in Hellas as the ideal of beauty,\nunqualified by moral attributes, Helen passed into modern mythology as\nthe ideal of the beauty of the pagan world. True to her old character,\nshe arrives to us across the waters of oblivion with the cestus of the\ngoddess round her waist, and the divine smile upon her lips. Age has\nnot impaired her charm, nor has she learned the lesson of the Fall.\nEver virginal and ever fair, she is still the slave of Aphrodite. In\nHelen we welcome the indestructible Hellenic spirit.\n\nPenelope is the exact opposite to Helen. The central point in her\ncharacter is intense love of her home, an almost cat-like attachment to\nthe house where she first enjoyed her husband's love and which is still\nfull of all the things that make her life worth having. Therefore, when\nat last she thinks that she will have to yield to the suitors and leave\nit, these words are always on her lips:\n\n                               #d\u00f4ma\n    kouridion mala kalon enipleion biotoio,\n    tou pote memn\u00easesthai o\u00efomai enper oneir\u00f4.#[24]\n\nWe can scarcely think of Penelope except in the palace of Ithaca, so\nfirmly has this home-loving instinct been embedded in her by her maker.\nWere it not that the passion for her home is controlled and determined\nby a higher and more sacred feeling, this Haush\u00e4lterischness of\nPenelope would be prosaic. Not only, however, has Homer made it evident\nin the _Odyssey_ that the love of Ithaca is subordinate in her soul\nto the love of Odysseus, but a beautiful Greek legend teaches how in\ngirlhood she sacrificed the dearest ties that can bind a woman to her\nlove for the hero who had wooed and won her. Pausanias says that when\nOdysseus was carrying her upon his chariot forth to his own land, her\nfather, Icarius, followed in their path and besought her to stay with\nhim. The young man was ready busked for the long journey. The old man\npointed to the hearth she had known from childhood. Penelope between\nthem answered not a word, but covered her face with her veil. This\naction Odysseus interpreted rightly, and led his bride away, willing to\ngo where he would go, yet unwilling to abandon what she dearly loved.\nNo second Odysseus could cross the woman's path. Among the suitors\nthere was not one like him. Therefore she clung to her house-tree in\nIthaca, the olive around which Odysseus had built the nuptial chamber;\nand none, till he appeared, by force or guile might win her thence.\nIt is precisely this tenacity in the character of Penelope which\ndistinguishes her from Helen, the daughter of adventure and the child\nof change, to whom migration was no less natural than to the swan that\ngave her life. Another characteristic of Penelope is her prudence.\nHaving to deal with the uproarious suitors camped in her son's halls,\nshe deceives them with fair words, and promises to choose a husband\nfrom their number when she has woven a winding-sheet for Laertes. Three\nyears pass, and the work is still not finished. At last a maiden tells\nthe suitors that every night Penelope undoes by lamplight what she had\nwoven in the daytime. This ruse of the defenceless woman has passed\ninto a proverb; and has become so familiar that we forget, perhaps, how\ntrue a parable it is of those who, in their weakness, do and undo daily\nwhat they would fain never do at all, trifling and procrastinating with\ntyrannous passions which they are unable to expel from the palace of\ntheir souls. The prudence of Penelope sometimes assumes a form which\nreminds us of the heroines of Hebrew story; as when, for example, she\nspoils the suitors of rich gifts by subtle promises and engagements\ncarefully guarded. Odysseus, seated in disguise near the hall-door,\nwatches her success and secretly approves. The same quality of mind\nmakes her cautious in the reception of the husband she has waited for\nin widowhood through twenty years. The dog Argus has no doubt. He sees\nhis master through the beggar's rags, and dies of joy. The handmaid\nEurycleia is convinced as soon as she has touched the wound upon the\nhero's foot and felt the well-remembered scar. Not so Penelope. Though\nthe great bow has been bent and the suitors have been slain, and though\nEurycleia comes to tell her the whole truth, the queen has yet the\nheart to seat herself opposite Odysseus by the fire, and to prove him\nwith cunningly devised tests. There is something provocative of anger\nagainst Penelope in this cross-questioning. But our anger is dissolved\nin tears, when at last, feeling sure that her husband and none other\nis there verily before her eyes, she flings her arms around him in\nthat long and close embrace. Homer even in this supreme moment has\nsustained her character by a trait which however delicate, can hardly\nescape notice. Her lord is weary and would fain seek the solace of his\ncouch. But he has dropped a hint that still more labors are in store\nfor him. Then Penelope replies that his couch is ready at all times\nand whensoever he may need; no hurry about that. Meanwhile, she would\nlike to hear the prophecy of Teiresias. Helen, the bondwoman of dame\nAphrodite, would not have waited thus upon the edge of love's delight,\nlong looked for with strained widow's eyes. Yet it would be unfair to\nPenelope to dwell only on this prudent and somewhat frigid aspect of\nher character. She is, perhaps, most amiable when she descends among\nthe suitors and prays Phemius to cease from singing of the heroes who\nreturned from Troy. It is more than she can bear to sit weaving in the\nsilent chamber mid her damsels, listening to the shrill sound of the\nlyre and hearing how other men have reached their homes, while on the\nwaves Odysseus still wanders, and none knows whether he be alive or\ndead. It may be noticed that just as Helen is a mate meet for easily\npersuaded Menelaus and luxurious Paris, so Penelope matches the temper\nof the astute, enduring, persevering Odysseus. As a creature of the\nfancy, she is far less fascinating than Helen; and this the poet seems\nto have felt, for side by side with Penelope in the _Odyssey_ he has\nplaced the attractive forms of Circe, Calypso, and Nausicaa. The gain\nis double. Not only are the hearers of the romance gladdened by the\ncontrast of these graceful women with the somewhat elegiac figure of\nPenelope, but the character of Odysseus for constancy is greatly\nenhanced. How fervent must the love of home have been in the man who\ncould quit Calypso, after seven years' sojourn, for the sake of a wife\ngrown gray with twenty widowed years! Odysseus tells Calypso to her\nface that she is far fairer than his wife:\n\n                              #oida kai autos\n    panta mal', houneka seio periphr\u00f4n P\u00eanelopeia\n    eidos akidnoter\u00ea, megethos t', eis omma idesthai.#[25]\n\n\"As far as looks go, Penelope is nothing beside thee.\" But what\nOdysseus leaves unsaid--the grace of the first woman who possessed\nhis soul--constrains him with a deeper, tenderer power than any of\nCalypso's charms. Penelope, meanwhile, is pleading that her beauty in\nthe absence of her lord has perished:\n\n    #xein' \u00eatoi men em\u00ean aret\u00ean eidos te demas te\n    \u00f4lesan athanatoi hote Ilion eisanebainon\n    Argeioi.#[26]\n\nThese two meet at last together, he after his long wanderings, and she\nhaving suffered the insistance of the suitors in her palace; and this\nis the pathos of the _Odyssey_. The woman, in spite of her withered\nyouth and tearful years of widowhood, is still expectant of her lord.\nHe, unconquered by the pleasures cast across his path, unterrified by\nall the dangers he endures, clings in thought to the bride whom he led\nforth, a blushing maiden, from her father's halls. O just, subtle, and\nmighty Homer!\n\nThere is nothing of Greek here more than of Hebrew, or of Latin, or of\nGerman. It is pure humanity.\n\nCalypso is not a woman, but a goddess. She feeds upon ambrosia and\nnectar, while her maidens spread before Odysseus the food of mortals.\nBetween her and Hermes there is recognition at first sight; for god\nknows god, however far apart their paths may lie. Yet the love that\nCalypso bears Odysseus brings this daughter of Atlas down to earth;\nand we may reckon her among the women of Homer. How mysterious, as\nthe Greek genius apprehended mystery, is her cavern, hidden far away\nin the isle Ogygia, with the grove of forest-trees before it and the\nthick vine flourishing around its mouth. Meadows of snow-flake and\nclose-flowering selinus gird it round; and on the branches brood all\nkinds of birds. It is an island such as the Italian painters bring\nbefore us in their rarest moments of artistic divination, where the\nblue-green of the twilight mingles with the green-blue sea and the\noverarching verdure of deep empurpled forest-shade. Under those trees,\ngazing across the ocean, in the still light of the evening-star,\nOdysseus wept for his far-distant home. Then, heavy at heart, he\ngathered up his raiment, and climbed into Calypso's bed at night:\n\n                 #epei ouketi h\u00eandane nymph\u00ea.\n    all' \u00eatoi nyktas men iauesken kai anank\u00eai\n    en spessi glaphyroisi par' ouk ethel\u00f4n ethelous\u00eai.#[27]\n\nTo him the message of Hermes recalling him to labor on the waves was\njoy; but to the nymph herself it brought mere bitterness: \"Hard are\nye, gods, and envious above all, who grudge that goddesses should\ncouch thus openly with mortal men, if one should make a dear bedfellow\nfor herself. For so the rosy-fingered morning chose Orion, till ye\ngods that lead an easy life grew jealous, and in Ogygia him the\ngolden-throned maid Artemis slew with her kind arrows.\" This wail of\nthe immortal nymph Calypso for her roving spouse of seven short years\nhas a strange pathos in it. It seems to pass across the sea like a sigh\nof winds awakened, none knows how, in summer midnight, that swells and\ndies far off upon moon-silvered waves. The clear human activity of\nOdysseus cuts the everlasting calm of Calypso like a knife, shredding\nthe veil that hides her from the eyes of mortals. Then he fares onward\nto resume the toils of real existence in a land whereof she nothing\nknows. There is a fragment of his last speech to Penelope, which sounds\nlike an echo of Calypso's lamentation. \"Death,\" he says, \"shall some\nday rise for me, tranquil from the tranquil deep, and I shall die in\ndelicate old age.\" We seem to feel that in his last trance Odysseus\nmight have heard the far-off divine sweet voice of Calypso calling him\nand have hastened to her cry.\n\nCirce is by no means so mysterious as Calypso. Yet she belongs to\none of the most interesting families in Greek romance. Her mother\nwas Perse, daughter of Oceanus; her father was Helios; she is own\nsister, therefore, to the Colchian \u00c6etes, and aunt of the redoubtable\nMedea. She lives in the isle of \u00c6\u00e6a, not, like Calypso, deep embowered\nin groves, but in a fair open valley sweeping downward to the sea,\nwhence her hearth-smoke may be clearly descried. Nor is her home an\nivy-curtained cavern of the rocks, but a house well built of polished\nstone, protected from the sea-winds by oak-woods. Here she dwells in\ngrand style, with nymphs of the streams and forests to attend upon\nher, and herds of wild beasts, human-hearted, roaming through her\npark. Odysseus always speaks of her with respect as #potnia Kirk\u00ea ...\ndia thea\u00f4n ... Kirk\u00ea e plokamos dein\u00ea theos aud\u00eaessa#. Like Calypso,\nshe has a fair shrill voice that goes across the waters, and as her\nfingers ply the shuttle, she keeps singing through the summer air. By\nvirtue of her birthright, as a daughter of the sun, she understands\nthe properties of plant and drug. Poppy and henbane and mandragora--all\nherbs of subtle juice that draw soul-quelling poison from the fat\nearth and the burning sun--are hers to use as she thinks fit. And the\nuse she makes of them is malicious; for, fairy-like and wanton, she\nwill have the men who visit her across the seas submit their reason to\nher lure. Therefore she turns them to swine; and the lions and wolves\nof the mountain she tames in like manner, so that they fawn and curl\ntheir long tails and have no heart to ravin any more. This is how she\ntreats the comrades of Odysseus: \"She drew them in and set them on\nbenches and on chairs, and put before them cheese and meat and yellow\nhoney, mixing therewith Pramnian wine; but with the food she mingled\nbaleful drugs, to make them quite forget their fatherland. But when\nshe had given them thereof and they had drunk, straightway she smote\nthem with a rod and shut them up in sties. Of swine they had the\nhead, the voice, the form, the bristles; but their mind stayed firm\nas it had been before. So they then were penned up, weeping bitter\ntears; but Circe threw before them acorns of the oak and ilex and\ncornel-berries, food that the forest-ranging swine are wont to eat.\"\nWhat is admirable in this description is its gravity. Circe is not made\nout particularly wicked or malignant. She is acting only after her\nkind, like some beautiful but baleful plant--a wreath, for instance,\nof red briony-berries, whereof if children eat, they perish. Nor,\nagain, is there a touch of the burlesque in the narration. Therefore,\nin the charming picture which Rivi\u00e8re has painted of Circe, we trace a\nvein of modern feeling. Clasping her knees with girlish glee, she sits\nupon the ground beneath a tangle of wild-vine, and watches the clumsy\nhogs that tumble with half-comic, half-pathetic humanity expressed in\ntheir pink eyes and grunting snouts before her. So, too, the solemn\npicture by Burne Jones, a masterpiece of coloring, adds something\nmedi\u00e6val to the Homeric Circe. The tall sunflowers that remind us of\nher father, the cringing panthers, black and lithe, the bending figure\nof the saffron-vested witch, the jars of potent juices, and the distant\nglimpse of sea and shore, suggest more of malignant intention than\nbelongs to the #potnia Kirk\u00ea#, the #Kirk\u00ea polypharmakos# of Homer's\ntale. It was inevitable that modern art should infuse a deeper meaning\ninto the allegory. The world has lived long and suffered much and grown\ngreatly since the age of Homer. We cannot be so _na\u00eff_ and childlike\nany longer. Yet the true charm of Circe in the _Odyssey_, the spirit\nthat distinguishes her from Tannha\u00fcser's Venus and Orlando's Fata\nMorgana and Ruggiero's Alcina and Tancred's Armida, lies just in this,\nthat the poet has passed so lightly over all the dark and perilous\nplaces of his subject. This delicacy of touch can never be regained\nby art. It belonged to the conditions of the first Hellenic bloom of\nfancy, to suggest without insistance and to realize without emphasis.\nImpatient readers may complain of want of depth and character. They\nwould fain see the Circe of the _Odyssey_ as strongly moralized as the\nMedea of Euripides. But in Homer only what is human attains to real\nintensity. The marvellous falls off and shades away into soft air-tints\nand delightful dreams. Still, it requires the interposition of the gods\nto save Odysseus from the charms of the malicious maid. As Hermes came\nto Priam on the path between Troy town and the Achaian ships, so now he\nmeets the hero:\n\n                   #ne\u00eani\u00eai andri eoik\u00f4s\n    pr\u00f4ton hyp\u00ean\u00eat\u00eai; touper chariestat\u00ea h\u00eab\u00ea.#[28]\n\nA plant of moly is in his hand; and this will be the antidote to\nCirce's philter. Odysseus's sword and strong will must do the rest.\nWhen Circe has once found her match, we are astonished at the\n_bonhomie_ which she displays. The game is over. There remains nothing\nbut graceful hospitality on her part--elegant banquets, delicious\nbaths, soft beds, the restoration of the ship's crew to their proper\nshape, and a store of useful advice for the future. \"There all the\ndays, for a whole year, we sat feasting and drinking honeyed wine; but\nwhen the year was full, and the seasons had gone round, moon waning\nafter moon, and the long days were finished, my dear comrades called on\nme by name, and spake once more of home.\"\n\nOne more female figure from the _Odyssey_ remains as yet untouched; and\nthis is the most beautiful of all. Nausicaa has no legendary charm; she\nis neither mystic goddess nor weird woman, nor is hers the dignity of\nwifehood. She is simply the most perfect maiden, the purest, freshest,\nlightest-hearted girl of Greek romance. Odysseus passes straight\nfrom the solitary island of Ogygia, where elm and poplar and cypress\novershadow Calypso's cavern, into the company of this real woman. It is\nlike coming from a land of dreams into a dewy garden when the sun has\nrisen: the waves through which he has fared upon his raft have wrought\nfor him, as it were, a rough reincarnation into the realities of human\nlife. For the sea-brine is the source of vigor; and into the deep he\nhas cast, together with Calypso's raiment, all memory of her.\n\nNausicaa was asleep in her Ph\u00e6acian chamber when Athene, mindful of\nOdysseus's need, came down and warned her in a dream that she should\nbestir herself and wash her clothes against her marriage-day. When the\ndamsel woke, she went straight to her father, Alcinous, and begged him\nto provide a horse and mules. Like a prudent girl, she said nothing\nof her marriage, but spoke of the cares of the household. Her five\nbrothers, she said, the two wedded and the other three in the bloom\nof youth, want shining raiment for the dance, and her duty it is to\nsee that the clothes are always ready. Alcinous knew in his heart what\nshe really meant, but he answered her with no unseemly jest. Only he\npromised a cart and a pair of mules; and her mother gave her food to\neat, and wine in a skin, and a golden cruse of oil, that she and her\nmaidens might spend a pleasant morning by the sea-beach, and bathe and\nanoint themselves, when their clothes-washing was finished.\n\nA prettier picture cannot be conceived than that drawn by Homer of\nNausicaa with her handmaidens thronging together in the cart, which\njogs downward through the olive-gardens to the sea. The princess holds\nthe whip and drives; and when she reaches the stream's mouth by the\nbeach, she loosens the mules from the shafts, and turns them out to\ngraze in the deep meadow. Then the clothes are washed, and the luncheon\nis taken from the basket, and the game of ball begins. How the ball\nflew aside and fell into the water, and how the shrill cries of the\ndamsels woke Odysseus from his sleep, every one remembers. The girls\nare fluttered by the sight of the great naked man, rugged with brine\nand bruised with shipwreck. Nausicaa alone, as becomes a princess,\nstands her ground and questions him. The simple delicacy with which\nthis situation is treated makes the whole episode one of the most\ncharming in Homer. Nothing can be prettier than the change from pity\nto admiration, expressed by the damsel, when Odysseus has bathed in\nrunning water, and rubbed himself with oil and put on goodly raiment\ngiven him by the girls. Pallas sheds treble grace upon his form, and\nmakes his hair to fall in clusters like hyacinth-blossoms, so that an\nartist who moulds figures of gilt silver could not shape a comelier\nstatue. The princess, with yesternight's dream still in her soul,\nwishes he would stay and be her husband. The girlish simplicity of\nNausicaa is all the more attractive because the Ph\u00e6acians are the\nmost luxurious race described by Homer. The palace in which she dwells\nwith her father is all of bronze and silver and gold; it shines like\nthe sun, and a blue line marks the brazen cornice of the walls. Dogs\nof silver and gold, Heph\u00e6stus's work, which never can grow old through\nlength of days, protect the entrance. Richly woven robes are cast upon\nthe couches in the hall, and light is shed upon the banquet-tables\nfrom blazing torches in the hands of golden boys. Outside the palace\ngrows the garden with well-divided orchard-rows, where pears and\nfigs and pomegranates and burnished apples and olives flourish all\nthe year long. The seasons change not in Ph\u00e6acian land for winter\nor for summer. The west wind is always blowing. Pear follows after\npear, and apple after apple, and grape-bunch after grape-bunch, in a\nnever-ending autumn dance. Vintage, too, is there; and there are the\ntrim flower-beds; and through the garden flow two fountains. The whole\npleasure-ground seems to have been laid out with geometrical Greek\ntaste. It is a paradise of neatness, sun-bright, clear to take in at\na glance. In this delightful palace dwells Alcinous, a kind old man,\namong his sons; and much delight they take in dance and song and games\nof strength. The young men, whose beards are but just growing, leap\nin rhythmic movement to the flute; the elder and more muscular run or\nwrestle, and much contempt do these goodly fellows, like English lads,\nreserve for men who are not athletes. Odysseus has to rebuke one of\nthem, Euryalus, by reminding him that faultlessly fair bodies are not\nalways the temples of a godlike soul. Zeus gives not all of his good\ngifts to all; for some men owe grace and favor to eloquence, others\nto beauty, and a man may be like to the immortals in face and form,\nand yet a fool. Alcinous well describes the temper of his people when\nhe says: \"We are not faultless boxers, nor yet wrestlers; but with\nour feet we race swiftly, and none can beat us in rowing; and we aye\nlove the banquet, and the lyre, and dancing, and gay raiment, and\nwarm baths, and joys of love.\" It is therefore not without propriety\nthat Demodocus, their blind bard, \"whom the Muse loved much, and gave\nhim good and evil--for she reft him of his sight and gave him honeyed\nsong\"--sings of Aphrodite tangled with Ares in the net of Heph\u00e6stus.\nFrom this soft, luxurious, comely, pleasure-loving folk Nausicaa\nsprings up like a pure blossom--anemone or lily of the mountains. She\nhas all the sweetness of temper which distinguishes Alcinous; but the\nvoluptuous living of her people has not spoiled her. The maidenly\nreserve which she displays in her first reception of Odysseus, her\nprudent avoidance of being seen with him in the streets of the town\nwhile he is yet a stranger, and the care she takes that he shall suffer\nnothing by not coming with her to the palace, complete the portrait\nof a girl who is as free from coquetry as she is from prudishness.\nPerhaps she strikes our fancy with most clearness when, after bathing\nand dressing, Odysseus passes her on his way through the hall to the\nbanquet. She leaned against the pillar of the roof and gazed upon\nOdysseus, and said: \"Hail, guest, and be thou mindful of me when\nperchance thou art in thine own land again, for to me the first thou\ndost owe the price of life.\" This is the last word spoken by Nausicaa\nin the _Odyssey_. She is not mentioned among the Ph\u00e6acians who took\nleave of the hero the day he passed to Ithaca.\n\nBefore quitting the women of Homer, we must return to the _Iliad_; for\nwithout Briseis and Andromache their company would be incomplete. As\nthe figures in a bass-relief are variously wrought, some projecting\nlike independent statues in sharp light and shadow, while others are\nbut half detached, and a third sort offer mere outlined profiles\nscarcely embossed upon the marble background: even so the poet has\nobeyed a law of relative proportion in his treatment of character.\nThe subordinate heroes, for example, in the _Iliad_ fall away from\nthe central figure of Achilles into more or less of slightness.\nThis does not mean that we can trace the least indecision in Homer's\ntouch, or that he has slurred his work by haste or incapacity. On\nthe contrary, there is no poet from whom deeper lessons in the art\nof subordinating accessories to the main subject without impairing\ntheir real value can be learned. A sculptor like Pheidias knows how\nto give significance to the least indication of a form which he has\nplaced upon the second plane in his bass-relief. Just so Homer inspires\nhis minor characters with personality. To detach this personality in\neach case is the task of the critic; yet his labor is no light one;\nfor the Homeric characters draw their life from incidents, motives,\naction. To the singer's fancy they appeared, not as products of the\nself-conscious imagination, but as living creatures; and to separate\nthem from their environment of circumstance is almost to destroy\nthem. This is the specific beauty of the art of Homer. In its origin\nit must have been the outcome, not of reflection, but of inspired\ninstinct; for in the Homeric age psychological analysis was unknown,\nand the very nomenclature of criticism had yet to be invented. We\ncan draw inexhaustible lessons in practical wisdom from the Homeric\npoems; but we cannot with impunity subject those delicate creations to\nthe critical crucible. They delight both intellect and senses with a\nmany-toned harmony of exquisitely modulated parts; but the instant we\nbegin to dissect and theorize, we run a risk of attributing far more\nmethod and deliberation than was natural to a poet in the early age\nof Hellas. It is almost impossible to set forth the persons of Homer\nexcept in his own way, and in close connection with the incidents\nthrough which they are revealed; whereas the characters of a more\nself-conscious artist--the Medea, for example, or the Ph\u00e6dra of\nEuripides--can be described without much repetition of their speeches\nor reconstruction of the dramas in which they play their parts.\n\nAndromache offers a not inapt illustration to these remarks. She\nis beautiful, as all heroic women are; and Homer tells us she is\n\"white-armed.\" We know no more about her person than this; and her\ncharacter is exhibited only in the famous parting scene and in the two\nlamentations which she pours forth for her husband. Yet who has read\nthe _Iliad_ without carrying away a distinct conception of this, the\nmost lovable among the women of Homer? She owes her character far less\nto what she does and what she says than to how she looks in that ideal\npicture painted on our memory by Homer's verse. The affection of Hector\nfor his wife, no less distinguished than the passion of Achilles for\nhis friend, has made the Trojan prince rather than his Greek rival\nthe hero of modern romance. When he leaves Ilion to enter on the long\ncombat which ends in the death of Patroclus, the last thought of Hector\nis for Andromache. He finds her, not in their home, but on the wall,\nattended by her nurse, who carries in her arms his only son:\n\n    #Hektorid\u00ean agap\u00eaton alinkion asteri kal\u00f4i.#[29]\n\nHer first words, after she has wept and clasped him, are: \"Love, thy\nstout heart will be thy death, nor hast thou pity of thy child or me,\nwho soon shall be a widow. My father and my mother and my brothers\nare all slain; but, Hector, thou art father to me and mother and\nbrother, and thou too art the husband of my youth. Have pity, then,\nand stay here in the tower, lest thy son be orphaned and thy wife a\nwidow.\" The answer is worthy of the hero. \"Full well,\" he says, \"know\nI that Troy will fall, and I foresee the sorrow of my brethren and\nthe king; but for these I grieve not: to think of thee, a slave in\nArgos, unmans me almost; yet even so I will not flinch or shirk the\nfight. My duty calls, and I must away.\" He stretches out his mailed\narms to Astyanax, but the child is frightened by his nodding plumes.\nSo he lays aside his helmet, and takes the baby to his breast, and\nprays for him. Andromache smiles through her tears, and down the\nclanging causeway strides the prince. Poor Andromache has nothing left\nto do but to return home and raise the dirge for a husband as good\nas dead. When we see her again in the 22d _Iliad_, she is weaving,\nand her damsels are heating a bath against Hector's return from the\nfight. Then suddenly the cry of Hecuba's anguish thrills her ears.\nShuttle and thread drop from her hands; she gathers up her skirts,\nand like a M\u00e6nad flies forth to the wall. She arrives in time to see\nher husband's body dragged through dust at Achilles' chariot-wheels\naway from Troy. She faints, and when she wakes it is to utter the most\npiteous lament in Homer--not, however, for Hector so much, or for\nherself, as for Astyanax. He who was reared upon a father's knees and\nfed with marrow and the fat of lambs, and, when play tired him, slept\nin soft beds among nursing-women, will now roam, an orphan, wronged and\nunbefriended, hunted from the company of happier men, or fed by charity\nwith scanty scraps. The picture of an orphan's misery among cold\nfriends and hard oppressors is wrought with the pathos of exquisite\nsimplicity. And to the same theme Andromache returns in the _vocero_\nwhich she pours forth over the body of Hector. \"I shall be a widow and\na slave, and Astyanax will either be slaughtered by Greek soldiers or\nset to base service in like bondage.\" Then the sight of the corpse\nreminds her that the last words of her sorrow must be paid to Hector\nhimself. What touches her most deeply is the thought of death in battle:\n\n    #ou gar moi thn\u00eask\u00f4n leche\u00f4n ek cheiras orexas;\n    oude ti moi eipes pykinon epos, houte ken aiei\n    memn\u00eam\u00ean nyktas te kai \u00eamata dakrycheousa.#[30]\n\nAs far as studied delineation of character goes, Briseis is still\nmore a silhouette than Andromache. We know her as the fair-cheeked\ndamsel who was fain to stay with Achilles, and who loved Patroclus\nbecause he kept for her a soothing word. In her threnos for Patroclus\nshe exclaims, \"How one woe after another takes me! I saw my husband\nslain before our city, and my three brethren; but you, Patroclus,\nthen comforted me, and said I should be Achilles' wife: you were ever\ngentle.\" This is really all we know about her. Yet Briseis lives in\nour memory by virtue of the great passions gathered round her, and the\nweighty actions in which she plays her part.\n\nIn course of years the heroes of the Homeric romances came to be\nworshipped, not exactly like gods with #thysiai#, but like the more\nthan mortal dead with #enagismata#. They had their chapels and their\nhearths, distinct from the temples and the altars of the deities. These\nwere generally raised upon the supposed spot of their sepulture, or in\nplaces which owed them special reverence as oekists or as ancestors.\nIn the case of Oedipus, the translation of the hero to the company of\ngods secured for him a cultus in Colonos. It was supposed that heroes\nexercised a kindly influence over the people among whom they dwelt;\nhaunting the neighborhood in semi-corporeal visitations, conferring\nbenefits upon the folk, and exhibiting signs of anger when neglected.\nThus Philostratus remarks that Protesilaus had a fane in Thessaly, \"and\nmany humane and favorable dealings doth he show the men of Thessaly,\nyea, and angerly also if he be neglected.\"[31] The same Philostratus,\nwhose works are a treasure-house of information respecting the latest\nforms of Hellenic paganism, reports the actual form of prayer used by\nAppollonius of Tyana at the tomb of Palamedes,[32] and makes the ghost\nof Achilles complain: \"The Thessalians for a long time have remitted\nmy offerings; still I am not yet minded to display my wrath against\nthem.\" Achilles, who has been evoked above his tomb in the Troad by the\nprayers of Apollonius, proceeds to remark that even the Trojans revere\nhim more than his own people, but that he cannot restore the town of\nTroy to its old prosperity. He hints, however, pretty broadly, that if\nthe Thessalians do not pay him more attention, he will reduce them to\nthe same state of misery as the Trojans. The d\u00e6mon, it may be said in\npassing, vanishes, like a medi\u00e6val ghost, at cockcrow.[33]\n\nThis cultus of the Homeric heroes was, of course, inseparable from a\ncorresponding growth of artistic associations; and here it is not a\nlittle curious to compare our own indefinite conceptions of the outward\nform of the heroic personages with the very concrete incarnation\nthey received from Greek sculptors and painters. The first memorable\nattempt to express the heroes of Homer in marble was upon the pediment\nat \u00c6gina; the first elaborate pictorial representation was that of\nPolygnotus on the walls of the _Lesche_ at Delphi. A Greek _Lesche_ was\nnot unlike an Italian or Oriental caf\u00e9, extended to suffice for the\nrequirements of a whole city. What has been discovered at Pompeii, in\naddition to the full description of the Delphian _Lesche_ by Pausanias,\ninclines us to believe that the walls of these public places of resort\nwere not unfrequently decorated with Homeric pictures. The beautiful\nfrescos of Achilles among the daughters of Lycomedes, of Achilles\nbathed by Thetis in the Styx, of Briseis led forth by Patroclus into\nthe company of the Achaian chiefs, and of Penelope questioning the\ndisguised Odysseus about her husband, which have been discovered in\nvarious parts of Pompeii, sufficiently illustrate to modern minds\nthe style of this wall-painting. The treatise surnamed #Eikones# of\nPhilostratus is an elaborate critical catalogue of a picture-gallery\nof this sort; and from many indications contained in it we learn\nhow thoroughly the heroes of Homer had acquired a fixed corporeal\npersonality. In describing, for example, a picture of the lamentation\nfor Antilochus, he says: \"These things are Homer's paintings, but the\npainter's action.\" Then he goes on to point out the chief persons:\n\"You can distinguish Odysseus at once by his severe and wideawake\nappearance, Menelaus by his gentleness, Agamemnon by his inspired\nlook; while Tydeus is indicated by his freedom, the Telamonian Ajax\nby his grimness, and the Locrian by his activity.\"[34] In another\nplace he tells us that Patroclus was of an olive-pale complexion\n(#melichl\u00f4ros#), with black eyes and rather thick eyebrows; his head\nwas erect upon the neck, like that of a man who excels in athletic\nexercises, his nose straight, with wide nostrils, like an eager horse.\nThese descriptions occur in the _Heroic Dialogue_. They are supposed to\nhave been communicated by the d\u00e6mon Protesilaus to a vine-dresser who\nfrequented his tomb. Achilles, on the other hand, had abundant hair,\nmore pleasant to the sight in hue than gold, with a nose inclining to\nthe aquiline, angry brows, and eyes so bright and lively that the soul\nseemed leaping from them in fire. Hector, again, had a terrible look\nabout him, and scorned to dress his hair, and his ears were crushed,\nnot indeed by wrestling, for barbarians do not wrestle, but by the\nhabit of struggling for mastery with wild bulls.[35]\n\nSome of the women of Homeric story, Helen for example, and\nIphigenia, received divine honors, together with suitable artistic\npersonification. But women were not closely connected with the\ngenealogical and gentile foundations of the Greek cultus; only a few,\ntherefore, were thus distinguished. What has here been said about\nthe superstition that gave form and distinctness to the creatures of\nHomeric fancy may be taken as applying in general to the attitude\nassumed by ancient art. The persons of a poem or a mythus were not\nsubjected to critical analysis as we dissect the characters of\n_Hamlet_ or of _Faust_. But they were not on that account the less\nvividly apprehended. They tended more and more to become external\nrealities--beings with a definite form and a fixed character. In a\nword, through sculpture, painting, and superstition, they underwent\nthe same personifying process as the saints of medi\u00e6val Italy. To what\nextent the Attic drama exercised a disturbing influence and interrupted\nthis process has been touched upon with reference to the Euripidean\nHelen.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[17] I take this occasion of calling attention to the essay on Helen\nconsidered as an allegory of Greek Beauty, by Paul de St. Victor in his\n_Hommes et Dieux_.\n\n[18] \"Not true is that tale; nor didst thou journey in benched ships,\nor come to towers of Troy.\"\n\n[19]\n\n    She, shrinking from the Trojans' hate,\n    Made frantic by their city's fate,\n    Nor dreading less the Danaan sword,\n    The vengeance of her injured lord:\n    She, Troy's and Argos' common fiend,\n    Sat cowering, by the altar screened.--_Conington._\n\n[20] Worsley's _Iliad_, iii. 17. The other quotations are from the same\nversion.\n\n[21] \"Thy own soul, gazing at him, became Kupris; for Aphrodite, as her\nname denotes, is all the folly of mortals.\"\n\n[22] Quite another view of Helen's character is developed in the\n_Helena_, where Euripides has followed the Stesichorean version of her\nlegend with singular disregard for consistency. Much might be said on\nthis point about the license in handling mythical material the Attic\ndramatists allowed themselves.\n\n[23]\n\n    Eastward was my glance directed,\n    Watching for the sun's first rays;\n    In the south--oh, sight of wonder!\n    Rose the bright orb's sudden blaze.\n\n    Thither was my eye attracted;\n    Vanished bay and mountain height,\n    Earth and heaven unseen and all things,\n    All but that enchanted light.--_Anster._\n\n[24] \"The home of my wedded years, exceeding fair, filled with all the\ngoods of life, which even in dreams methinks I shall remember.\"\n\n[25] \"I know well that Penelope is inferior to thee in form and\nstature, to the eyes of men.\"\n\n[26] \"Of a truth my goodliness and beauty of person the gods destroyed\nwhat time the Argives went up into Troy town.\"\n\n[27] \"For the nymph pleased him no longer. Nathless, as need was, he\nslept the night in hollow caverns, beside her loving him who loved her\nnot.\"\n\n[28] \"Like to a young man when his beard has just begun to grow, whose\nbloom is then most lovely.\"\n\n[29] Hector's only son, like unto a fair star.\n\n[30] \"For, dying, thou didst not reach to me thy hand from the bed, nor\nsay to me words of wisdom, the which I might have aye remembered night\nand day with tears.\"\n\n[31] #H\u00ear\u00f4\u00efkos#, 680.\n\n[32] _Life of Apollonius_, 150.\n\n[33] _Ibid._ 153, 154.\n\n[34] #Eikones#, 820. (By Kayser, Zurich, 2d ed.)\n\n[35] #H\u00ear\u00f4\u00efkos#, 736, 733, 722. For the curious detail about Hector's\nears compare Theocr. 22, 45, where athletes are described #tethlagmenoi\nouata pygmais#. Statues of Hercules show this.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n_HESIOD._\n\n    The Difference between the Homeric and the Hesiodic\n        Spirit.--The Personality of Hesiod more Distinct than that\n        of Homer.--What we Know about his Life.--Perses.--The\n        Hesiodic Rhapsodes.--_Theogony_ and _Works and\n        Days_.--Didactic Poetry.--The Story of Prometheus.--Greek\n        and Hebrew Myths of the Fall.--The Allegorical Element\n        in the Promethean Legend.--The Titans.--The Canto of the\n        Four Ages.--Hesiodic Ethics.--The Golden Age.--Flaxman's\n        Illustrations.--Justice and Virtue.--Labor.--Bourgeois Tone\n        of Hesiod.--Marriage and Women.--The Gnomic Importance of\n        Hesiod for the Early Greeks.\n\n\nHesiod, though he belongs to the first age of Greek literature, and\nranks among the earliest of Hellenic poets, marks the transition from\nthe heroic period to that of the despots, when ethical inquiry began in\nGreece. Like Homer, Hesiod is inspired by the Muses: alone, upon Mount\nHelicon, he received from them the gift of inspiration. But the message\nwhich he communicates to men does not concern the deeds of demigods and\nwarriors. It offers no material for tragedies upon the theme of\n\n            Thebes or Pelops' line,\n    Or the tale of Troy divine.\n\nOn the contrary, Hesiod introduces us to the domestic life of\nshepherds, husbandmen, and merchants. Homely precepts for the conduct\nof affairs and proverbs on the utility of virtue replace the glittering\npictures of human passions and heroic strife which the Homeric poems\npresent. A new element is introduced into literature, the element of\nman reflecting on himself, questioning the divine laws under which he\nis obliged to live, and determining the balance of good and evil which\nthe days of youth and age bring with them in his earthly course. The\nindividual is now occupied with his own cares and sorrows and brief\njoys. Living in the present, and perforce accommodating his imagination\nto the prose of human existence, he has forgotten to dream any longer\nof the past, or to reconstruct in fancy the poetic charm of visionary\nheroism. It was just this difference between Homer and Hesiod which led\nthe aristocratic Greeks of a later age to despise the poet of Ascra.\nCleomenes, the king of Sparta, chief of that proud military oligarchy\nwhich had controlled the destinies of decaying Hellas, is reported by\nPlutarch to have said that, while Homer was the bard of warriors and\nnoble men, Hesiod was the singer of the Helots. In this saying the\ncontempt of the martial class for the peaceable workers of the world is\nforcibly expressed. It is an epigram which endears Hesiod to democratic\ncritics of the modern age. They can trace in its brief utterance the\ncontempt which has been felt in all periods--especially among the\nhistoric Greeks, who regarded labor as ignoble, and among the feudal\nraces, with whom martial prowess was the main-stay of society--for the\nunrecorded and unhonored earners of the bread whereby the brilliant and\nthe well-born live.\n\nHesiod, therefore, may be taken as the type and first expression of a\nspirit in Greek literature alien from that which Homer represents. The\nwrath and love of Achilles, the charm of Helen and the constancy of\nPenelope, the councils of the gods, the pathos of the death of Hector,\nthe sorrows of King Priam and the labors of Odysseus, are exchanged for\ndim and doleful ponderings upon the destiny of man, for the shadowy\nmythus of Prometheus and the vision of the ages ever growing worse as\nthey advance in time. All the rich and manifold arras-work of suffering\nand action which the _Odyssey_ and the _Iliad_ display yields to such\nsombre meditation as a sad soul in the childhood of the world may pour\nforth, brooding on its own wrongs and on the woes of men around. The\nclimax of the whole, after the justice of God has been querulously\narraigned, and the violence of princes has been appealed against with\npitiful vain iteration, is a series of practical rules for daily\nconduct, and a calendar of simple ethics.\n\nVery little is known about Hesiod himself; nor can the date at which\nthe poems ascribed to him were composed be fixed with any certainty.\nSomething of the same semi-mythical obscurity which surrounds Homer\nenvelops Hesiod. Just as Homer was the eponymous hero of the school of\nepic poets in Asia Minor and the islands, so Hesiod may be regarded as\nthe titular president of a rival school of poets localized near Mount\nHelicon in Boeotia. That is to say, it is probable that the Hesiodic,\nlike the Homeric, poems did not emanate from their supposed author as\nwe read them now; but we may assume that they underwent changes and\nreceived additions from followers who imbibed his spirit and attempted\nto preserve his style. And, further, the poems ascribed to Hesiod\nbecame, as years went by, a receptacle for gnomic verses dear to the\nGreeks. Like the elegies of Theognis, the ethical hexameters of Hesiod\nwere, practically, an anthology of anonymous compositions. Still Hesiod\nhas a more distinct historic personality than Homer. In the first\nplace, the majority of ancient critics regarded him as later in date\nand more removed from the heroic age. Then again, he speaks in his own\nperson, recording many details of his life, and mentioning his father\nand his brother. Homer remains forever lost, like Shakespeare, in the\ncreatures of his own imagination. Instead of the man Homer, we have\nthe Achilles and Odysseus whom he made immortal. Hesiod tells us much\nabout himself. A vein of personal reflection, a certain tone of peevish\nmelancholy, peculiar to the individual, runs through his poems. He is\nfar less the mouthpiece of the heavenly Muse than a man like ourselves,\ntouching his lyre at times with a divine grace, and then again\nsweeping the chords with a fretfulness that draws some jarring notes.\n\nWe learn from the hexameters of Hesiod that he was born at Ascra in\nBoeotia (_Works and Days_, line 640). His father was an emigrant from\n\u00c6olian Kum\u00e9, whence he came to Ascra in search of better fortune,\n\"forsaking not plenty nor yet wealth and happiness, but evil poverty\nwhich Zeus gives to men: near Helicon he dwelt in a sorry village,\nAscra, bad in winter, rigorous in summer heat, at no time genial.\"\nFrom the exordium of the _Theogony_ (line 23) it appears that Hesiod\nkept sheep upon the slopes of Helicon; for it was there that the Muse\ndescended to visit him, and, after rebuking the shepherds for their\nidleness and grossness, gave him her sacred laurel-branch and taught\nhim song. On this spot, as he tells us in the _Works and Days_ (line\n656), he offered the first prize of victory which he obtained at\nChalkis. It would seem clear from these passages that poetry had been\nrecognized as an inspiration, cultivated as an art, and encouraged by\npublic contests long before the date of Hesiod.\n\nHusbandry was despised in Boeotia, and the pastoral poet led a\nmonotonous and depressing life. The great event which changed its even\ntenor was a lawsuit between himself and his brother Perses concerning\nthe division of their inheritance.[36] Perses, who was an idle fellow,\nafter spending his own patrimony, tried to get that of Hesiod into his\nhands, and took his cause before judges whom he bribed. Hesiod was\nforced to relinquish his property, whereupon he retired from Ascra to\nOrchomenos. At Orchomenos he probably passed the remainder of his days.\nThis incident explains why Hesiod dwelt so much upon the subject of\njustice in his poem of the _Works and Days_, addressed to Perses. #Mega\nn\u00eapie Pers\u00ea# he always calls this brother, as though, while heaping the\ncoals of good counsel upon his head, he wished to humble his oppressor\nby the parade of moral and intellectual superiority. Some of Hesiod's\nfinest passages, his most intense and passionate utterances, are wrung\nfrom him by the injustice he had suffered; so true is the famous saying\nthat poets\n\n    Learn in suffering what they teach in song.\n\nOne parable will for the moment serve as a specimen of the poetry which\nthe wrong-dealing of Perses drew from him. \"Thus spake the hawk to the\nnightingale of changeful throat, as he bore her far aloft among the\nclouds, the prey of his talons: she, poor wretch, wailed piteously\nin the grip of his crooked claws; but he insultingly addressed her:\n'Wretch, why criest thou? Thou art now the prey of one that is the\nstronger; and thou shalt go whither I choose to take thee, song-bird\nas thou art. Yea, if I see fit, I will make my supper of thee, or else\nlet thee go. A fool is he who kicks against his betters: of victory is\nhe robbed, and suffers injury as well as insult.'\" Hesiod himself is,\nof course, meant by the nightingale, and the hawk stands for violence\ntriumphing over justice.\n\nIn verse and dialect the Hesiodic poems are not dissimilar from the\nHomeric, which, supposing their date to have been later, proves that\nthe _Iliad_ had determined the style and standard of epic composition,\nor, supposing a contemporary origin, would show that the Greeks of the\nso-called heroic age had agreed upon a common literary language. We\nmay refer the _Theogony_ and the _Works and Days_, after the deduction\nof numerous interpolations, to Hesiod, but only in the same sense and\nwith the same reservation as we assign the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_\nto Homer.[37] Unlike the heroic epos, they were recited, not to the\naccompaniment of the cithara, but by the poet standing with a laurel\nstaff, called #rhabdos# or #sk\u00eaptron#, in his hand. Hesiod, at the\nopening of the _Theogony_, tells us how he had received a staff of\nthis kind from the Muse upon Mount Helicon. Either, then, the laurel\n#rhabdos# had already been recognized in that part of Greece as the\nsymbol of the poet's office, or else, from the respect which the\nfollowers of Hesiod paid to the details of his poem, they adopted it as\ntheir badge.\n\nOf the two poems ascribed to Hesiod, the _Theogony_ and the _Works and\nDays_, the former--though its genuineness as a Hesiodic production\nseems to have been disputed from a very early period--was, perhaps, on\nthe whole, of greater value than the latter to the Greeks. It contained\nan authorized version of the genealogy of their gods and heroes, an\ninspired dictionary of mythology, from which to deviate was hazardous.\nJust as families in England try to prove their Norman descent by an\nappeal to the Roll of Battle Abbey, so the canon of the _Theogony_\ndecided the claims of god or demi-god to rank among celestials. In\nthis sense Herodotus should be interpreted when he says that Hesiod\njoined with Homer in making their Theogonia for the Greeks. But though\nthis poem had thus a unique value for the ancients, it is hardly so\ninteresting in the light of modern criticism as the _Works and Days_.\nThe _Works and Days_, while for all practical purposes we may regard\nit as contemporaneous with the _Iliad_, marks the transition from the\nheroic epic to the moral poetry of the succeeding age, and forms the\nbasis of direct ethical philosophy in Hellas. Hesiod is thus not only\nthe mouthpiece of obscure hand-workers in the earliest centuries of\nGreek history, the poet of their daily labors, sufferings, and wrongs,\nthe singer of their doubts and infantine reflections on the world in\nwhich they had to toil; he is also the immediate parent of gnomic\nverse, and the ancestor of those deep thinkers who speculated in the\nAttic age upon the mysteries of human life.\n\nThe first ten verses of the _Works and Days_ are spurious--borrowed,\nprobably, from some Orphic hymn to Zeus, and recognized as not the work\nof Hesiod by critics as ancient as Pausanias. The poem begins with\nthese words: \"Not, as I thought, is there only one kind of strife;\nbut on the earth there are two, the one praiseworthy, the other to\nbe blamed.\" It has been conjectured that Hesiod is referring to that\npassage of the _Theogony_[38] in which Eris, daughter of Night, is said\nto have had no sister. We are, therefore, justified in assuming that\nmuch of his mythology is consciously etymological; and this should\nbe borne in mind while dealing with the legend of Prometheus. The\nstrife whereof he speaks in his exordium is what we should now call\ncompetition. It rouses the idle man to labor; it stirs up envy in the\nheart of the poor man, making him eager to possess the advantages of\nwealth; it sets neighbor against neighbor, craftsman against craftsman,\nin commendable emulation. Very different, says the poet, is this sort\nof strife from that which sways the law-courts; and at this point he\nbegins to address his brother Perses, who had litigiously deprived\nhim of his heritage. The form of didactic poetry, as it has since\nbeen practised by the followers of Hesiod, was fixed by the appeal\nto Perses. Empedocles, it will be remembered, addressed his poem on\nNature to the physician Pausanias; Lucretius invoked the attention\nof Memmius, and Virgil that of M\u00e6cenas; the gnomes of Theognis were\nuttered to the Megarian Cyrnus; Poliziano dedicated his _Silva_ to\nLorenzo de' Medici, Vida his _Poetics_ to the Dauphin, Fracastorio his\nmedical poem to Bembo, and Pope the _Essay on Man_ to Bolingbroke.\nAfter this preface on competition as the inducement to labor, and on\nstrife as the basis of injustice, the poet proceeds to the mythus of\nPrometheus, which is so artificially introduced as to justify the\nopinion that it may be an interpolation by some later craftsman of the\nHesiodic school. Work, he says, is necessary for men, because Zeus has\nconcealed and hidden far away our means of livelihood; so that we are\nforced to toil and suffer in the search for sustenance. This grudge\nZeus owed mankind because of the sin of Prometheus. In the _Works and\nDays_ the account given of the trick played upon Zeus is brief; Hesiod\nonly says, \"seeing that Prometheus of crooked counsel deceived him.\"\nWe may, however, supplement the story from the _Theogony_.[39] In old\ndays the human race had fire, and offered burnt sacrifice to heaven;\nbut Prometheus by his craft deceived the gods of their just portion\nof the victims, making Zeus take the bones and fat for his share.\nWhereupon Zeus deprived men of the use of fire. Prometheus then stole\nfire from heaven and gave it back to men. \"Then,\" says Hesiod, \"was\ncloud-gathering Zeus full wroth of heart, and he devised a great woe\nfor all mankind.\" He determined to punish the whole race by giving them\nPandora. He bade Heph\u00e6stus mix earth and water, and infuse into the\nplastic form a human voice and human powers, and liken it in all points\nto a heavenly goddess. Athene was told to teach the woman, thus made,\nhousehold work and skill in weaving. Aphrodite poured upon her head the\ncharm of beauty, with terrible desire, and flesh-consuming thoughts of\nlove. But Zeus commanded Hermes to give to her the mind of a dog and\nwily temper. After this fashion was the making of Pandora. And when she\nhad been shaped, Athene girded and adorned her; the Graces and divine\nPersuasion hung golden chains about her flesh, and the Hours crowned\nher with spring blossoms. Zeus called her Pandora, because each dweller\non Olympus had bestowed on her a gift. Then Pandora was sent under the\ncharge of Hermes to Epimetheus, who remembered not his brother's words,\nhow he had said: \"Receive no gift from Zeus, but send it back again,\nlest evil should befall the race of men.\" But as soon as Epimetheus\nhad housed her he recognized his error. Before this time men had lived\nupon the earth apart from evils, apart from painful toil, and weariful\ndiseases which bring death on mortals. The woman with her hands lifted\nthe lid of the great jar where all these bad things were shut up, and\nlet them loose into the air. Hope alone remained behind--for the lot\nof humanity is hopeless; but a hundred thousand woes abode at large to\nplague the race of men. Earth is full of them; the sea is full; and\nsickness roams abroad by night and day, where it listeth, bearing ills\nto mortals in silence, for Zeus in his deep craft took away its voice\nthat men might have no warning. Thus not in any way is it possible to\navoid the will of God.\n\nSuch is the mythus of the Fall, as imagined by the early Greeks. Man in\nrebellion against heaven, pitted in his weakness at a game of mutual\ndeception against almighty force, is beaten and is punished. Woman,\nthe instrument of his chastisement, is thrust upon him by offended and\nmalignant deity; the folly of man receives her, and repents too late.\nBoth his wisdom and his foolishness conspire to man's undoing--wisdom\nwhich he cannot use aright, and foolishness which makes him fall into\nthe trap prepared for him. We are irresistibly led to compare this\nlegend with the Hebrew tradition of the Fall. In both there is an act\nof transgression on the part of man. Woman in both brings woe into\nthe world. That is to say, the conscience of the Greeks and Jews,\nintent on solving the mystery of pain and death, convicted them alike\nof sin; while the social prejudices of both races made them throw the\nblame upon the weaker but more fascinating sex, by whom they felt\ntheir sterner nature softened and their passions quickened to work\nfoolishness. So far the two myths have strong points of agreement. But\nin that of the Greeks there is no Manich\u00e6ism. The sin of Prometheus\nis not, like the sin of Adam, the error of weak human beings tempted\nby the power of evil to transgress the law of good. It is rather a\nknavish trick played off upon the sire of gods and men by a wily\ngamester; and herein it seems to symbolize that tendency to overreach\nwhich formed a marked characteristic of the Hellenes in all ages. The\nGreek of Hesiod's time conceived of the relations between man and god\nas involving mutual mistrust and guile; his ideal of intellectual\nsuperiority, both in Prometheus and in Zeus, implied capacity for\ngetting the upper hand by craft. Again, the Greek god takes a\ndiabolical revenge, punishing the whole human race, with laughter on\nhis lips and self-congratulation for superior cunning in his heart. We\nlack the solemn moment when God calls Adam at the close of day, and\ntells him of the curse, but also promises a Saviour. The legend of\nPrometheus has, for its part also, the prophecy of a redeemer; but the\nredeemer of men from the anger of God does not proceed from the mercy\nof the deity himself, who has been wronged, but from the iron will\nof Fate, who stands above both god and man, and from the invincible\nfortitude of the soul which first had sinned, now stiffening itself\nagainst the might of Zeus, refusing his promises, rejecting his offers\nof reconciliation, biding in pain and patience till Herakles appears\nand cuts the Gordian knot. This is the spectacle presented by \u00c6schylus\nin his _Prometheus Bound_. To deny its grandeur would be ridiculous; to\ncontend that it offers some features of sublimity superior to anything\ncontained in the Hebrew legend would be no difficult task. In the\nperson of Prometheus, chained on Caucasus, pierced by fiery arrows in\nthe noonday and by frosty arrows in the night, humanity wavers not, but\nendures with scorn and patience and stoical acceptance. Unfortunately\nthe outlines of this great tragic allegory have been blurred by time\nand travestied by feeble copyists. What we know about the tale of\nPrometheus is but a faint echo of the mythus apprehended by the\nGreeks anterior to Hesiod, and handled afterwards by \u00c6schylus. Enough,\nhowever, remains to make it certain that it was the creation of a race\nprofoundly convinced of present injustice in the divine government of\nthe world. If the soul of man is raised by the attribution of stern\nheroism, God is lowered to the infamy of a tyrant. But neither is the\nHebrew legend on its side theologically flawless. Greek and Jew fail\nalike to offer a satisfactory solution of the origin of evil. While in\nthe Greek mythus Zeus plays with mankind like a cat with a mouse, the\nHebrew story does not explain the justice of that omnipotent Being who\ncreated man with capacity for error, and exposed him to temptation.\nThe true critique of the second and third chapters of Genesis has been\nadmirably expressed by Omar Khayyam in the following stanzas:\n\n    O Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin\n    Beset the road I was to wander in,\n      Thou wilt not with predestination round\n    Enmesh me, and impute my fall to sin?\n\n    O Thou, who man of baser earth didst make,\n    And who with Eden didst devise the snake,\n      For all the sin wherewith the face of man\n    Is blackened, man's forgiveness give--and take!\n\nBoth tales are but crude and early attempts to set forth the primitive\nmystery of conscience, and to account for the prevalence of pain and\ndeath. The \u00e6sthetic superiority of the Hebrew conception lies in its\nidealization of the deity at all costs. God is at least grand and\nconsistent, justified by his own august counsels; and at the very\nmoment of punishing his creatures, he promises deliverance through\ntheir own seed. Moreover, a vast antagonistic agency of evil is brought\ninto the field to account for the fall of man; and we are not precluded\nfrom even extending our compassion to the deity, who has been thwarted\nin his schemes for good.\n\nBefore quitting the discussion of this ancient tale of human suffering\nand sin, it would be well to notice that Hesiod identifies Prometheus\nwith the human race. His hero is the son of the Titan Iapetus by\nClymene, daughter of the Titan Oceanus; and his brethren are Atlas,\nMenoitios, and Epimetheus. These names are significant. Just as\nPrometheus signifies the forecasting reason of humanity,[40] so\nEpimetheus indicates the overhasty judgment foredoomed to be wise\ntoo late. These are intellectual qualities. Atlas, in like manner,\ntypifies the endurance of man, who bears all to the very end, and\nholds upon his back the bulk of heaven. In Menoitios is shadowed forth\nthe insolence and rebellious spirit for which a penalty of pain and\ndeath is meted. These, then, are moral qualities. In the children\nof Iapetus and Clymene we consequently trace the first rude attempt\nat psychological analysis. The scientific import of the mythus was\nnever wholly forgotten by the Greeks. Pindar calls Prophasis, or\nexcuse, the daughter of Epimetheus, or back-thought as opposed to\nfore-thought. Plato makes the folly of Epimetheus to have consisted\nin his giving away the natural powers of self-preservation to the\nbeasts; whereupon Prometheus was driven to supplement with fire the\nunprotected impotence of man. Lucian, again, says of Epimetheus that\nrepentance is his business; while Synesius adds that he provides not\nfor the future, but deplores the past. The Titans, it should further be\nremarked, are demiurgic powers--elemental forces of air, fire, earth,\nwater--conditions of existence implied by space and time--distributors\nof darkness and of light--parents, lastly, of the human race. Though\nsome later Greek authors identified Prometheus with the Titans, and\nmade him the benefactor of humanity, this was not the conception of\nHesiod. Prometheus is stated, both in the _Theogony_ and the _Works\nand Days_, to have been the son of Titans, the protagonist of men, who\nstrove in vain to cope with Zeus. Zeus himself belongs in like manner\nto a secondary order of existences. Begotten by the Titan Kronos, he\nseems to typify the reason as distinguished from the brute powers of\nthe universe, mind emergent from matter, and overcoming it by contest.\nPrometheus is connected, by his parentage, with the old material order\nof the world; but he represents that portion of it which is human, and\nwhich, _qua_ human, has affinity to Zeus. Herein we trace the mystery\nof the divine in man, though man has been placed in antagonism to the\ndeity. The same notion is further symbolized by the theft of fire, and\nby the fiction of Prometheus breathing a particle of the divine spirit\ninto the clay figures whereof he made men. In the decaying age of Greek\nmythology this aspect of the legend absorbed attention to the exclusion\nof the elder Hesiodic romance, as students of Horace will remember, and\nas appears abundantly from Gr\u00e6co-Roman bass-reliefs. To reconcile man\nand Zeus, cognate in their origin, yet hostile owing to their ancient\nfeud, it was needful that a deliverer, Herakles, should be born of god\nand woman, of Zeus and Alcmene, who sets free the elementary principle\nof humanity typified in Prometheus, and for the first time establishes\na harmony between the children of earth and the dwellers on Olympus.\nSo far I have remained within the limits of the Hesiodic legend, only\nhinting at such divergences as were adopted by the later handlers of\nthe tale. The new aspect given to the whole myth by \u00c6schylus deserves\nseparate consideration in connection with the tragedy of _Prometheus_.\nIt is to be regretted that we only possess so important a relique of\nGreek religious speculation in fragments; and these fragments are so\ntantalizingly incomplete that it is impossible to say exactly how much\nmay be the _d\u00e9bris_ of original tradition, or where the free fancy\nof later poets has been remoulding and recasting the material of the\nantique myth to suit more modern allegory.\n\nThe tale of Prometheus may be called the first canto of the _Works\nand Days_. The second consists of the vision of the four ages of man.\nHesiod, in common with all early poets, imagined a state of primeval\nbliss, which he called the Age of Gold. Then Kronos reigned upon the\nearth, and men lived without care or pain or old age. Their death was\nlike the coming on of sleep, and the soil bore them fruits untilled.\nWhen this race came to an end, Zeus made them genii of good-will,\nhaunting the world and protecting mortals. Theirs it is to watch the\ndecrees of justice, and to mark wrong-doing, wrapped around with mist,\ngoing up and down upon the earth, the givers of wealth; such is the\nroyal honor which is theirs. The next age he calls the Silver, for it\nwas inferior to the first; and Zeus speedily swept it away, seeing\nthat the men of this generation waxed insolent, and paid no honor to\nthe gods. The third age is the Brazen. A terrible and mighty brood\nof men possessed the land, who delighted in naught but violence and\nwarfare. They first ate flesh. Their houses and their armor and their\nmattocks were of brass. In strife they slew themselves, and perished\nwithout a name. After them came the heroes of romance, whom Zeus made\nmost just and worthy. They fell fighting before seven-gated Thebes\nand Troy; but after death Father Zeus transferred them to the utmost\nlimits of the world, where they live without care in islands of the\nblest, by ocean waves, blest heroes, for whom thrice yearly the soil\nbears blooming fruitage honey-sweet. Then cries Hesiod, and the cry is\nwrenched from him with agony, Would that I had never been born in the\nfifth generation of men, but rather that I had died before or had lived\nafterwards; for now the age is of iron! On the face of the world there\nis naught but violence and wrong; division is set between father and\nson, brother and brother, friend and friend; there is no fear of God,\nno sense of justice, no fidelity, no truth; the better man is subject\nto the worse, and jealousy corrupts the world. Soon, very soon, will\nwing their way to heaven again--leaving the earth with her broad ways,\nrobed in white raiment, joining the immortal choir, deserting men--both\nmodest shame and righteous indignation. But dismal woes will stay and\nharbor here, and against evil there shall be no aid. This ends the\nsecond canto of the _Works and Days_, and brings us down to the two\nhundredth line of the poem. The remainder consists for the most part of\nprecepts adapted to the doleful state in which mortals of the present\nhave to suffer.\n\nWhat may be called the third canto is occupied with justice, the\nadvantages of which, from a purely utilitarian point of view, as well\nas \u00e6sthetically conceived, are urged in verse. It begins with the\napologue of the hawk and nightingale already quoted. Then the condition\nof a city where justice is honored, where the people multiply in peace,\nand there is fulness and prosperity, where pestilence and calamity keep\nfar away, is contrasted with the plagues, wars, famines, wasting away\nof population, and perpetual discomforts that beset the unjust nation.\nFor the innocent and righteous folk, says the poet, the earth bears\nplenty, and in the mountains the oak-tree at the top yields acorns, and\nin the middle bees, and the woolly sheep are weighed down with their\nfleeces. The women give birth to children like their fathers. With\nblessings do men always flourish, nor need they tempt the sea in ships,\nbut earth abundantly supplies their wants.\n\nIt is worth while to pause for a moment and contemplate the pastoral\nideal of perfect happiness and pure simplicity which, first set forth\nby Hesiod in these passages, found afterwards an echo in Plato, in\nEmpedocles, in Lucretius, in Virgil, in Poliziano, and in Tasso;\nall of whom have lingered lovingly upon the _bell' et\u00e0 dell' oro_.\nThe Hesiodic conception of felicity is neither stirring nor heroic.\nLike the early Christian notion of heaven, expressed by the pathetic\niteration of _in pace_ on the sepulchral tablets of the catacombs, it\nowes its beauty to a sense of contrast between tranquillity imagined\nand woe and warfare actually experienced. We comprehend why the\nSpartan king called Hesiod the poet of the Helots, when, in the age\nthat idealized Achilles and Odysseus, the all-daring, all-affronting\nheroes of a radiant romance, we find that his sole aspiration was to\nlive in peace, decorously fulfilling social duties, and growing old\nin the routine of moderate labor. It is a commonplace, and what the\nFrench would call a _bourgeois_, aspiration. Just this lot in life\nAchilles rejected with disdain, in exchange for the dazzling prospect\nof victory and death, that fascinated the noblest of the Greeks, and\nproduced their Alexander. Still we must remember that Hesiod was not,\nlike Homer, singing in the halls of fiery and high-fed chieftains, who\nstood above the laws. His plaintive note was uttered to the watchers\nof the seasons and the tillers of the soil, whose very livelihood\ndepended on the will and pleasure of #d\u00f4rophagoi basileis#. In the\nsemi-barbarous state of society which Homer and Hesiod represent from\ndifferent points of view, when violence prevails, and when life and\nproperty alike are insecure, justice may well be selected as the prime\nof virtues, and peace be idealized as heaven on earth. In one sense, as\nthe Greek philosophers argued, justice does include all the excellences\nof a social being. The man who is perfectly just will be unimpeachable\nin all his conduct; and the simpler the state of society, the more\noutrageous the wrongs inflicted by one man on another, the more\napparent will this be.\n\nPutting aside, however, for further consideration, the ethical aspect\nof Hesiod's ideal, we find in it an exquisite and permanently\nattractive \u00e6sthetic beauty. Compared with the fierce heroism of\nAchilles, the calm happiness of Hesiod's pastoral folk soothes our\nfancy, like the rising of the moon in twilight above harvest sheaves at\nthe end of a long intolerable day. Therefore great poets and artists,\nthrough all the resonant and gorgeous ages of the world, have turned\ntheir eyes with sympathy and yearning to these lines; and the best\nthat either Virgil or Poliziano could achieve was to catch an echo of\nHesiod's melody, to reproduce a portion of his charm. Perhaps the most\ncomplete homage to the poetry of Hesiod on this point has been rendered\nby Flaxman. Nature, so prodigal to the English race in men of genius\nuntutored, singular, and solitary, has given us but few seers who,\nin the quality of prolific invention, can be compared with Flaxman.\nFor pure conceptive faculty, controlled by unerring sense of beauty,\nwe have to think of Pheidias or Raphael before we find his equal.\nHis powers were often employed on uncongenial subjects; nor had he,\nperhaps, a true notion of the limitations of his art, else he would not\nhave attempted to give sculpturesque form, even in outline, to many\nscenes from the _Divine Comedy_. The conditions, again, of modern life\nwere adverse to his working out his thought in marble, and precluded\nhim from gaining a complete mastery over the material of sculpture. It\nmay also be conceded that, to a large extent, his imagination, like a\nparasite flower, was obliged to bloom upon the branches of Greek art.\nWhat Flaxman would have been without the bass-reliefs, the vases, and\nthe hand-mirrors of the ancients, it is difficult to conceive. Herein,\nhowever, he did no more than obey the law which has constrained the\ngreatest modern minds by indissoluble bondage to the service of the\nGreek spirit. Allowing for all this, the fact remains that within a\ncertain circle, the radius of which exceeds the farthest reach of many\nfar more frequently be-lauded artists, Flaxman was supreme. Whatever\ncould be expressed according to the laws of bass-relief, embossed in\nmetal, or hewn out of stone, or indicated in pure outline, he conveyed\nwith a truth to nature, a grace of feeling, and an originality of\nconception absolutely incomparable. Moreover, in this kind his genius\nwas inexhaustible. Nowhere are the fruits of his creative skill so\ncharming as in the illustrations of the _Works and Days_. The ninth\nplate, in which the Age of Gold is symbolized by a mother stretching\nout her infant to receive his father's kiss, might be selected as a\nperfect idyl, conveyed within the strictest and severest bounds of\nsculptural relief. The man and his girl-wife are beautiful and young.\nAge, we feel, will never touch them, by whitening her forehead or\nspoiling his smooth chin with hair. Both are naked, seated on the\nground; their outstretched arms enfold, as in a living cradle, the\nrobust and laughing boy. On one side shoots a heavy sheaf of barley; on\nthe other stands an altar, smoking with bloodless offerings to heaven;\nabove, the strong vine hangs its clusters and its wealth of lusty\nleaves. More elaborate, but scarcely more beautiful--like a double rose\nbeside a wilding blossom from the hedge of June--is the seventeenth\nplate, which sets forth the felicity of god-fearing folk who honor\njustice. These, too, are seated on the ground, young men and girls,\nwith comely children, pledges of their joy. One child is suckled at her\nmother's breast; another lies folded in his father's arms; a girl and\nboy are kissing on their parents' knees; while a beardless youth pipes\nditties on the double reed. Above the group vine-branches flourish,\nand the veiled Hours, givers of all goodly things, weave choric dance\nwith song, scattering from their immortal fingers flowers upon the men\nbeneath. In order to comprehend the purity of Flaxman's inspiration,\nthe deep and inborn sympathy that made him in this nineteenth century\na Greek, we ought to compare these illustrations with the picture of\nthe Golden Age by Ingres. For perfection of scientific drawing from\nthe nude, this masterpiece of the great French painter has never been\nexcelled. It is a treasure-house of varied attitude and rhythmically\nstudied line. Yet the whole resembles a theatrical _tableau vivant_,\nwhich an enlightened choreograph, in combination with an enterprising\nmanager, might design to represent the Garden of Eden on a grand scale.\nThe power displayed by Flaxman is of a very different order. There is\nno effort, no _mise en sc\u00e8ne_, no parade of science, no suggestion of\nvoluptuousness. His outlines are as simple and as pure as Hesiod's\nverse. We feel that, whereas Ingres is using the old vision as a schema\nfor the exhibition of his skill, Flaxman has felt its poetry and given\nform to its imagination. This is not the occasion to linger over these\nillustrations; yet, before closing the volume that contains them, I\ncannot forbear from turning a page, and pointing to the pictures of the\nPleiads. Seven beautiful interwoven female shapes are rising, in the\none plate, like a wreath of light or vapor moulded into human form,\nabove the reapers; in the other are descending, with equal grace of now\ninverted movement, over the ploughman at his toil. By no other artist's\nhand have the constellations elsewhere been converted, with so much\nfeeling for their form, into the melodies of rhythmically moving human\nshapes. Flaxman's outlines of the Pleiads might be described as a new\ncelestial imagery, a hitherto unapprehended astronomical mythology.\n\nContinuing what I have called the third canto of the _Works and Days_,\nHesiod addresses himself in the next place to the Basileis, or judges\nof the people: \"Kings in judgment, do ye also ponder this divine\njustice; for the immortals, dwelling near and among men, behold who\nwaste their fellows by wrong judgment, scorning the wrath of God.\nVerily, upon earth are thrice ten thousand immortals of the host of\nZeus, guardians of mortal man. They watch both justice and injustice,\nrobed in mist, roaming abroad upon the earth.\" Again he reminds them\nthat Justice, virgin child of Zeus, is ever ready with ear open to\nobserve the injury to right and fair dealing done against her honor.\nShe complains of the wrongful judge; but it is the people who suffer\nfor his sin. Therefore let the princes so greedy of bribes take heed,\nforego their crooked sentences, and bear in mind that the man who\nworks evil for another, works it for himself, that bad intentions\nharm those who have conceived them, and that Zeus sees all and knows\nall. This period is concluded with a bitterly ironical repudiation of\nthe poet's own precepts: May neither I nor my son be just; for now\nthe wrongful man has by far the best of it upon the earth! It will be\nobserved that Zeus throughout this tirade on justice is a different\nbeing from the Zeus in the mythus of Prometheus. The dramatic personage\nof the legend, whose guile inflicts so much misery on men, has been\nsupplanted by a moral idea personified. It is not that a new mythology\nhas been superinduced upon the old one, or that we are now in the\ntrack of esoteric religious teaching: the poet is only expressing his\ninternal certainty that though fraud and violence prevail on earth,\nyet somewhere in the eternal and ideal world justice still abides. It\nis not a little singular, considering his querulous and hopeless tone\nin other passages, that Hesiod should here assert the cognizance which\nZeus takes of unfair dealing, and the continued action of protective\nand retributive d\u00e6mons. We could scarcely find stronger faith in\nthe superiority of justice among the moral writings of the Jews.\nFurthermore, Hesiod reminds Perses that justice is human, violence\nbestial, and that in the long run honesty will be found to be the best\npolicy. Then follows the sublimest passage of the whole poem--one of\ngreat celebrity among the Greeks, who quoted it, and worked it up\nin poems, parables, and essays: \"Behold, thou mayest choose badness\neasily, even in heaps; for the path is plain, and she dwells very near.\nBut before excellence the immortal gods have placed toil and labor:\nafar and steep is the road that leads to her, and rough it is at\nfirst; but when you reach the height, then truly is it easy, though so\nhard before.\"[41]\n\nThe subject of Justice being now exhausted, Hesiod passes, in the\nfourth canto of the _Works and Days_, to the eulogy of labor, regarded\nas the source of all good. The unheroic nature of his life-philosophy\nis very apparent in this section. He thinks and speaks like a peasant,\nwhose one idea it is to add pence to pence, and to cut a good figure\nin his parish. A man must work in order to avoid hunger and grow rich:\ngods and men hate the idle, who are like drones in the hive: if you\nwork, you will get flocks and herds, and folk will envy you: to grow\nrich from dishonest gains brings no profit, for they are unlucky:\nthe great aim for a good man is to live a respectable life, to work\nsoberly, to fulfil righteousness, to be punctual in paying homage to\nthe gods--to go to church, in fact--with this end in view, that he may\nbuy the estates of his neighbor, instead of having to sell his own.\nSuch is the bathos of Hesiod's ethical ideal: Do right and abstain from\nwrong, in order that you may be richer than the tenant of the adjacent\nfarm. Many other precepts of like tenor might be quoted: Call your\nfriend to your banquet, and leave your enemy alone: invite him most who\nlives nearest, for he will be most useful in time of need: love him who\nloves you, and cleave to him who cleaves to you: give to him who gives,\nand give not to him who gives not, for to a giver gifts are given, but\nto him who gives not no man hath given. Of such sort are the Hesiodic\nrules of conduct. They reveal the spirit of a prudent clown, the\npractical and calculating selfishness which the doleful conditions of\nthe early age of Hellenic civilization intensified. The social life of\ngreat political centres and the patriotism of the Persian war helped at\na later period to raise the Greeks above these low and sordid aims in\nlife. It was only in a century when justice could be bought and penury\nmeant starving, unheeded or derided, by the roadside, that a poet of\nHesiod's temper could write,[42] Money is a man's soul--\n\n    #chr\u00eamata gar psych\u00ea peletai deiloisi brotoisi.#\n\nIn criticising the Solonian reforms at Athens, we should never forget\nthe dismal picture of Hellenic misery revealed to us by Hesiod.\n\nThus ends the first part of the _Works and Days_. The second half of\nthe poem consists of rules for husbandry. Hesiod goes through the\nseasons of the year, detailing the operations of the several months,\nand adorning his homely subject with sober but graceful poetry. It is\nan elegant farmer's calendar, upon which Virgil founded his _Georgics_,\ntranslating into Augustan Latin the rude phrases of the bard of Ascra,\nand turning all he touched to gold. Scattered among precepts relating\nto the proper seasons and successions of agricultural labor are\ndescriptive passages and moral reflections. One picture of winter is\nso long and elaborate as to justify the notion that it is a separate\ninterpolated poem. The episode upon procrastination (line 408) and the\nrules for the choice of a wife (line 693) might be selected as offering\nspecial topics for comment. The latter passage deserves particular\nattention; since, if the condition of the working-man was wretched in\nthis early age of Greece, far more miserable, may we argue, was that\nof his helpmate. A man, according to Hesiod, ought to be about thirty\nwhen he marries, and his wife about nineteen. He should be very careful\nin choosing her, to insure that she will not bring him into contempt\namong his neighbors; and he must remember that if a good wife be a\nprize, it is not possible to get a worse plague than a bad one. What\nhis general notion about women was, we gather from the long invective\nagainst the female sex in the _Theogony_.[43] Pandora was the greatest\ncurse imaginable to the human race, for from her sprang women; and now,\nif a man refrains from marriage, he must endure a wretched old age, and\nleave his money to indifferent kindred; or if he marries and gets a\ngood wife, curses and blessings are mingled in his lot; if his wife be\nof the bad sort, his whole life is ruined. So utterly impossible is it\nto avoid the misery devised for the human race by Zeus.\n\nThe whole argument of Hesiod in this passage, taken in connection with\nhis few lines on the choice of a wife in the _Works and Days_, and\nwith his grim silence upon the subject of women as the companions of\nmen, proves that he regarded them as a necessary deduction from the\nhappiness of life--the rift within the lute that spoils its music--the\nplague invented by the malice of an all-wise god in vengeance for a\nman's deceit. This appreciation of women is substantially consistent\nwith the curious poem by Simonides of Amorgos; with the treatment of\nthe female sex at Athens; with the opinion of Pindar and Plato that\nto be a woman-lover as compared with a boy-lover was sensual and\nvile; with the disdainful silence of Thucydides; with the caricatures\nof society presented by the comic poets; with the famous epigram of\nPericles; with the portrait of Xanthippe; and with the remarkable\ndescription of female habits in Lucian's _Amores_. Thus, running\nthrough the whole literature of the Greeks, we can trace a vein of\ncontempt for women, which may fairly be indicated as the greatest\nsocial blot upon their brilliant but imperfect civilization. Exceptions\ncan, of course, be found. In the age of the despots women rose into\nfar more importance than they afterwards enjoyed in democratic Athens.\nAt Sparta their right to engross property (severely criticised by\nAristotle) gave them a social status which they had in no other Greek\nstate. At Lesbos, during the brief blooming period of \u00c6olian culture,\nin freedom of action and in mental training they were at least the\nequals of the male sex. The fact, however, remains that in Athens, the\nreal centre of Hellenic life, women occupied a distinctly inferior\nrank. It is significant that in the _Lives of Plutarch_, whereas we\nread of many noble Laced\u00e6monian ladies, comparatively little account is\ntaken of the wives or mothers of Athenian worthies.\n\nSome scattered proverbs about the conduct of the tongue and the choice\nof friends, followed by an enumeration of lucky and unlucky days, and\nby a list of truly rustic rules of personal behavior, conclude the\npoem of the _Works and Days_. How far these saws and maxims belong to\nthe original work of Hesiod it is quite impossible to say. The book\nbecame popular in education, and consequently suffered, like the gnomes\nof Theognis and Phocylides, from frequent interpolations at a later\nperiod. As it stands, the whole is chiefly valuable for the concrete\npicture which it offers of early peasant life in Hellas. As the epics\nof Homer present us with the ideal towards which the princes and great\nnobles raised their souls amid the plenty and the splendor of their\npalaces, so in the lines of Hesiod we learn how the Thetes, whom\nAchilles envied in Elysium, toiled and suffered in their struggle for\ntheir only source of comfort, gold.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[36] _Works and Days_, 219, 261, 637.\n\n[37] There are probably few scholars who would now venture to maintain\nconfidently that the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ were composed by one and\nthe same poet. The name Homer must be used like the _x_ of algebra for\nan unknown power.\n\n[38] Line 225.\n\n[39] Line 535.\n\n[40] That Prometheus was _Pramanthas_, the fire-lighting stick, has\nbeen ascertained by modern philology, but was not known by Hesiod.\n\n[41] _Works and Days_, 286.\n\n[42] _Works and Days_, 686. It must here again be repeated that\nthough it is convenient to talk of Hesiod as a poet and a person, the\nmiscellaneous ethical precepts of the _Works and Days_ are derived from\na variety of sources.\n\n[43] Lines 587-612.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n_PARMENIDES._\n\n    Greek Philosophical Poetry.--The Emergence of\n        Philosophy from Mythology.--The Ionian Sages.--The\n        Pythagoreans.--Anaxagoras.--Democritus.--The\n        Eleatics.--Heraclitus.--Xenophanes of Colophon.--His\n        Critique of the Myths.--Assertion of Monotheism.--Fragments\n        of his Poem on Nature.--Parmenides of Elea.--His Political\n        Importance.--Parmenides in the Dialogues of Plato.--His\n        Metaphysic of Being.--His Natural Philosophy.--The Logic\n        Deduced from him by Zeno and Melissus.--Translation of\n        the Fragments of his Poem.--The Dualism of Truth and\n        Opinion.--Impossibility of Obtaining Absolute Knowledge.\n\n\nIt might well be questioned whether the founders of the Eleatic\nSchool deserve to rank among Greek poets; for though they wrote\nhexameters, composing what the Greeks call #ep\u00ea#, yet it is clear\nthat they did this with no artistic impulse, but only because in the\ndawn of thought it was easier to use verse than prose for fixed and\nmeditated exposition. The moment in the development of human thought\nwhen abstractions were being wrung for the first time with toil from\nlanguage, and when as yet the vehicle of rhythmic utterance seemed\nindispensable, is so interesting that a point in favor of Xenophanes\nand Parmenides may be fairly stretched, and a place may be given them\nbetween Hesiod, the creator of didactic poetry, and Empedocles, the\ninspired predecessor of Lucretius.\n\nThe problem which lay before the earliest philosophers of Greece was\nhow to emerge from mythological conceptions concerning the origin and\nnature of the world into a region of more exact and abstract thought.\nThey had their list of demiurgic agencies, Titans and deities, some of\nthem dramatically personified in the poems of Homer and the legends\nof Olympus, others but vaguely indicated by the names of Earth and\nOcean, Heaven and Time. The polytheistic and mythologizing instincts\nof the race at large tended to individualize these primal powers\nwith more and more distinctness, collecting legends around the more\npopular among them, and attributing moral sympathies and passions to\nthose who were supposed to have relations with humanity. But there\nremained a background of dimly descried and cloudy forces upon which\nthe mythopoeic imagination had taken little hold; and these supplied a\nstarting-point for scientific speculation. It was in this field that\nthe logical faculty of the Greek mind, no less powerful and active than\nits poetic fancy, came first into play. Thus we find Thales brooding\nin thought upon the mythus of Oceanus, and arriving at the conception\nof water as the elementary principle of the universe; while Gaia, or\nEarth, in like manner is said to have stimulated Pherecydes. Anaximenes\nis reported to have chosen air as the groundwork of his cosmogony, and\nHeraclitus developed the material world from fire.\n\nIt must not be supposed that any of these early speculators invented\na complete hypothesis for deducing phenomena from earth, air, fire,\nor water as apprehended by the senses. Their elements, or #archai#,\nare rather to be regarded in the light of symbols--metaphors adopted\nfrom experience for shadowing forth an extremely subtle and pervasive\nsubstance, a material of supersensible fluidity and elasticity,\ncapable of infinite modification by rarefaction and condensation. At\nthe same time they were seeking after intellectual abstractions; but\nthe problems of philosophy as yet presented themselves in crude and\nconcrete form to their intellects.\n\nA further step in the direction of the abstract was taken by\nAnaximander, the Milesian astronomer, who is reported to have made a\nsundial, to have calculated the recurrence of the equinoxes and the\nsolstices, and to have projected geographical charts for the first\ntime in Greece. This practical mathematician derived the universe\nfrom the unlimited, #to apeiron#, hurling thought thus at a venture,\nas it were, into the realm of metaphysical conceptions. It would\nappear from the dim and hazy tradition which we have received about\nAnaximander, that he instituted a polemic against the so-called\nphysicists, arguing that to the elements of fire or water there can be\nattributed a beginning and an ending, but that the abstract indefinite,\nas uncreate and indestructible, takes precedence of all else. His\nthought, however, though fruitful of future consequences, was in itself\nbarren; nor have we any reason to conclude that by the #apeiron# he\nmeant more than a primordial substance, or _Grund_, without quality\nand without limitation--a void and hollow form containing in itself\npotentialities of all things. It is characteristic of this early age of\nGreek speculation that Simplicius found it necessary to criticise even\nAnaximander for using poetic phraseology, #poi\u00eatik\u00f4terois onomasin#. In\nhis polemic, however, he started one of the great puzzles, the contrast\nbetween birth and death, and the difficulty of discovering an element\nsubject to neither, which agitated the schools of Greece throughout\ntheir long activity.\n\nWhile the thinkers of Ionia were endeavoring to discover terms\nof infinite subtlety, through which to symbolize the uniform and\nunchangeable substance underlying the multiplicity of phenomena,\nthe Pythagoreans in Italy turned their attention to the abstract\nrelations of which numbers are the simplest expression. Numbers,\nthey saw, are both thoughts and also at the same time universally\napplicable to things of sense. There is nothing tangible which can\nescape the formul\u00e6 of arithmetic. Mistaking a power of the mind for\na power inherent in the universe, they imagined that the figures of\nthe multiplication-table were the essential realities of things,\nthe authentic inner essence of the sensible world; and to number\nthey attributed a mystic potency. Speculation was still so immature\nthat they failed to observe the sterility of the conception. This\nmuch, however, they effected: by resting upon the essentially mental\nconception of quantity, and by apprehending the whole universe as\nnumber, they took the first important step in the direction of pure\nmetaphysic.\n\nAnaxagoras of Clazomen\u00e6, following another path, pronounced that the\nreally efficient agency in the universe is Mind. For this utterance\nhe has been justly eulogized by the metaphysicians of all succeeding\ncenturies. It was, in fact, the starting-point of what in German\nphraseology is called _Begriffsphilosophie_. Anaxagoras insisted on a\npoint which had been neglected by his contemporaries--the form-giving\nactivity of mind, as known to us immediately in the human reason--and\nasserted the impossibility of leaving this out of the account of the\nuniverse. But, as Socrates complained, he stopped here, and diverged\ninto material explanations, talking about attraction and repulsion and\nhomogeneous particles, without attempting to connect them with the\naction of his #Nous#.\n\nDemocritus of Abdera, a little later in time than the thinkers who\nhave hitherto been mentioned, was so attracted by the indefinite\ndivisibility of matter that he explained the universe by the theory\nof a void in which an infinity of atoms moved and met in varied\ncombination. It is well known that this hypothesis, the parent of\nthe Epicurean and the Lucretian systems, has been the main-stay\nof materialism in all ages, and that it has lately been received\ninto favor by some of the most advanced physicists. Yet it must not\nbe imagined that the Atomism of Democritus was in any true sense\nscientific according to our acceptation of the term. Like the Infinite\nof Anaximander, the Mind of Anaxagoras, the Numbers of Pythagoras, the\nFire of Heraclitus, his Plenum and Vacuum was a conjectural hypothesis\nfounded upon no experiment or observation properly so called. All\nthese early systems were freaks of fancy, shrewd guesses, poetic\nthoughts, in which abstractions from language, elementary refinements\nupon mythology, together with crude speculations about natural objects,\nwere made the groundwork of dogmatism. At the same time thought at this\nperiod was both active and creative; nearly all the permanent problems\nwhich occur to human ignorance--the antitheses of a beginning and an\nending, of being and not being, of rest and motion, of the continuous\nand the discrete, of the one and the many--the criterion of knowledge\nand opinion, the antagonism of the senses and the reason, the relation\nof the vital principle to inanimate existence--were posed in the course\nof animated controversy. Logic had not been formulated as a method.\nPhilosophical terminology had not as yet been settled. But the logical\nfaculty was working in full vigor, and language was being made to yield\nabstractions hitherto unapprehended.\n\nThis brief survey of the origin of Greek philosophy will enable us to\nunderstand the position of the Eleatics. Regarded collectively, and as\na school developing a body of doctrine, they advanced in abstraction\nbeyond any of their predecessors or contemporaries. Whereas other\nphilosophers had sought for the abstract in phenomenal elements, the\nEleatics went straight through language to the notion of pure being:\neven the numbers of Pythagoras were not sufficient for the exigencies\nof their logic. The unity of being, as the one reality, and the\nabsolute impossibility of not-being, revealed by the consciousness and\ndemonstrated by language in the copula #esti#, forms the groundwork of\ntheir dogmatism. How important was the principle thus introduced into\nthe fabric of European thought, is evident to every student of the\nhistory of philosophy. It is enough in this place to point out to what\nextent it has influenced our language through such words as entity,\nexistence, essence. The Eleatics may claim as their own coinage the\ntitle of all metaphysics--Ontology, or the Science of Being.\n\nIn order to make the attitude of these earliest Greek thinkers still\nmore clear, we must return for a moment to Heraclitus, who instituted\na polemic against the Eleatic doctrine of Being. He asserted that\nBeing is no more than not-Being. Regarded in itself as an abstraction,\nBeing turns out to be identical with nothing. The relation of Being\nto not-Being in Becoming formed the central point of his metaphysic,\nand was enunciated in the axiom, All is flowing, #panta rhei#. Though\nthe Heraclitean polemic was directed against the school at large, it\nwould be in the last degree inaccurate to treat the Eleatic doctrine,\nas maintained by Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, and Melissus, from the\npoint of view of one consistent system. By so doing not only would the\ntruth of history be violated, but one of the most valuable examples of\nthe growth of thought in Greece would be lost.\n\nXenophanes, who is regarded as the founder of the school, was a native\nof Colophon. He left his fatherland, and spent the greater portion of\nhis life in Sicily and Magna Gr\u00e6cia. We hear of him first at Messana,\nthen at Catana; and there is good reason to believe that he visited\nthe Phoc\u00e6an colony of Elea (afterwards Velia) on the western coast of\nCalabria, a little to the south of P\u00e6stum. At all events, antiquity\nspoke of him as the father of philosophy at Elea, and Diogenes Laertius\nmentions a poem of two thousand hexameters which he composed in joint\npraise of this city and Colophon. Xenophanes lived to a great age. In a\ncouplet preserved from one of his elegies he speaks of having wandered,\nabsorbed in thought and contemplation, for sixty-seven years through\nHellas, and fixes twenty-five years as the age at which he began his\ntravels. He was celebrated, like his fellow-countryman, Mimnermus, for\nhis elegiac poetry, some fragments of which are among the most valuable\nrelics we possess of that species of composition. About 538 B.C. is the\ndate usually assigned to him.\n\nThe starting-point of philosophy for Xenophanes was found in theology.\n\"Looking up to universal heaven,\" says Aristotle, \"he proclaimed that\nunity is God.\" The largest fragment of his metaphysical poem consists\nof a polemic against polytheism, both as regards the anthropomorphic\nconception of deity prevalent in Greece, and also as regards the\nimmorality attributed by Homer and Hesiod to the gods. His own god\nis a high abstraction of mind, one and indivisible, without motion,\nwithout beginning or ending, in no way like to man. To the divine unity\nhe attributed thought and volition; but he does not appear to have\nattempted to connect God with the universe. Like the other speculators\nof his age and nation, he theoretically deduced the world from simple\nelements, choosing earth and water, as we gather from some fragments of\nhis poem, for the primordial constituents. At the same time he held a\ndoctrine which afterwards became the central point of Eleatic science.\nThis was a disbelief in the evidence of the senses, a despair of\nempirical knowledge, which contrasts singularly with his own vehement\ndogmatism upon the nature of the Divine Being. Thus the originality\nof Xenophanes consisted in his pronouncing, without proof, that the\nuniverse must be regarded as a unity, and that this unity is the Divine\nExistence, all human mythology being but dreams and delusions. Of his\nphilosophical poem only inconsiderable portions have been preserved.\nThese, however, are sufficient to make clear the line he took, both in\nhis assertion of monotheism and his polemic against the anthropomorphic\ntheology of the Greeks. Such as they are, I have translated them as\nfollows:[44]\n\n\n    \"One god there is, among gods and men the greatest, neither in\n    body like to mortals, nor in mind.\n\n    \"With the whole of him he sees, with the whole of him he\n    thinks, with the whole of him he hears.\n\n    \"Without exertion, by energy of mind he sways the universe of\n    things.\n\n    \"That he abides forever in the same state, without movement, or\n    change from place to place, is evident.\n\n    \"But mortals fancy that gods come into being like themselves,\n    and have their senses, voice, and body. But, of a truth, if\n    oxen or lions had hands, and could draw with their hands, and\n    make what men make, then horses like unto horses, and oxen like\n    unto oxen, would both paint the images of gods, and shape their\n    bodies also after the similitude of their own limbs.\n\n    \"Homer and Hesiod attributed to gods everything that is\n    disgraceful and blameworthy among men, and very many lawless\n    deeds of gods they recorded--theft, adultery, and mutual\n    deceit.\"\n\nAnother set of scattered fragments, small in number and meagre in their\ninformation, from the poem by Xenophanes on #physis#, show that he held\nthe views afterwards developed by Parmenides concerning the uncertainty\nof human opinion, and that the elemental substances which he favored\nin his cosmogonical theory were earth and water. These also I have\ntranslated:\n\n    \"For all of us from earth and water sprang.\n\n    \"Earth and water are all things that come into being and have\n    birth.\n\n    \"The spring of water is the sea.\n\n    \"This upper surface of the earth beneath our feet is open to\n    the sight, and borders on the air; but the lower parts reach\n    down into infinity.\n\n    \"What we call Iris, that also is a cloud, purple-dark,\n    scarlet-bright, yellow-pale to look upon.\n\n    \"The very truth itself no man who hath been or will be can know\n    concerning gods and all whereof I speak; for though he publish\n    the most absolute, yet even so he does not know: opinion is\n    supreme o'er all things.\n\n    \"These things are matters of opinion, shadows of the truth.\n\n    \"Not from the beginning did gods reveal all things to mortals;\n    but in course of time by seeking they make progress in\n    discovery.\"\n\nThe essential weakness of the Eleatic way of thinking was not glaringly\napparent, though implicit, in the utterance of Xenophanes. This\nconsisted in the unreconciled antithesis between the world of unity,\nof true being, of rational thought, and the world of multiplicity,\nof phenomenal appearance, of opinion. By pushing the tenets of his\nmaster to their logical conclusions, and by exchanging theological\nfor metaphysical phraseology, Parmenides, the greatest teacher of the\nschool, exposed the fatal insufficiency of Eleatic dualism. At the same\ntime he achieved an ever-memorable triumph in philosophy by forcing the\nproblem of essential reality upon the earliest Greek speculators, and\nby defining the battle-ground of future ontological controversy.\n\nParmenides, a native of Elea, who flourished about the year 503 B.C.,\nenjoyed a reputation in his native city scarcely inferior to that of\nPythagoras at Crotona, of Empedocles at Acragas, or of Solon at Athens.\nSpeusippus, quoted by Diogenes Laertius, asserts that the magistrates\nof Elea were yearly sworn to observe the laws enacted by Parmenides.\nCebes talks about a \"Pythagorean or Parmenidean mode of life,\" as if\nthe austere ascesis of the Samian philosopher had been adopted or\nimitated by the Eleatic. Indeed, there is good reason to suppose that\nParmenides held intercourse with members of the Pythagorean sect, his\nneighbors in the south of Italy. Diogenes Laertius relates that he was\nunited in the bonds of closest friendship to Ameinias and Dioch\u00e6tes,\ntwo Pythagoreans. Of these the latter was a poor man, but excellent in\nbreeding and in character; Parmenides so loved him and respected him\nthat, when he died, he dedicated a hero's chapel to his memory. The\nphilosophers of this period in Greece, as might be proved abundantly,\nwere no mere students but men of action and political importance.\nTheir reputation for superior wisdom caused them to be consulted in\naffairs of state, and to be deferred to in matters of constitutional\nlegislation. Some of them, like Thales, Anaximander, and Empedocles,\nwere employed on works of public utility. Others, like Pythagoras,\nremodelled the society of cities, or, like Anaxagoras, through their\ninfluence with public men like Pericles, raised the tone of politics\naround them. All of them devoted a large portion of their time and\nattention to the study of public questions. It was this kind of\nprestige, we may conjecture, which, in the next phase of Greek thought,\nthrew so much power into the hands of sophists, and which finally\nencouraged Plato in his theory that those states would be best governed\nwhere the sages were the rulers.\n\nOf Parmenides himself some precious notices have been preserved by\nPlato. It appears that the great Eleatic teacher visited Athens in his\nold age. Socrates was a young man at the period of this visit; and\nPlato, whether inventing an occasion for their meeting or relying on\nactual tradition, brings them into conversation. In the prelude to the\ndialogue _Parmenides_, we read:[45]\n\n    \"He told us that Pythodorus had described to him the appearance\n    of Parmenides and Zeno; they came to Athens, he said, at\n    the great Panathen\u00e6a; the former was, at the time of his\n    visit, about sixty-five years old, very white with age, but\n    well-favored. Zeno was nearly forty years of age, of a noble\n    figure and fair aspect; and in the days of his youth he was\n    reported to have been beloved of Parmenides. He said that they\n    lodged with Pythodorus in the Ceramicus, outside the wall,\n    whither Socrates and others came to see them; they wanted to\n    hear some writings of Zeno, which had been brought to Athens\n    by them for the first time. He said that Socrates was then\n    very young, and that Zeno read them to him in the absence of\n    Parmenides, and had nearly finished when Pythodorus entered,\n    and with him Parmenides and Aristoteles, who was afterwards one\n    of the Thirty; there was not much more to hear, and Pythodorus\n    had heard Zeno repeat them before.\"\n\nThe _The\u00e6tetus_ contains another allusion to Parmenides, which proves\nin what reverence the old philosopher was held by Socrates:\n\n    \"My reason is that I have a kind of reverence, not so much for\n    Melissus and the others, who say that 'all is one and at rest,'\n    as for the great leader himself, Parmenides, venerable and\n    awful, as in Homeric language he may be called--him I should be\n    ashamed to approach in a spirit unworthy of him. I met him when\n    he was an old man and I was a mere youth, and he appeared to me\n    to have a glorious depth of mind. And I am afraid that we may\n    not understand his language, and may fall short even more of\n    his meaning.\"\n\nFinally, in the _Sophistes_ a passing allusion to the same event is\nput into the mouth of Socrates: \"I remember hearing Parmenides use\nthe latter of the two methods, when I was a young man and he was far\nadvanced in years, in a very noble discussion.\" These notices of\nthe Eleatic sage, we feel, are not in any sense accidental. Plato\nhas introduced them in important moments of his three most studied\ndialogues upon those very points which occupied the mind of Parmenides,\nand by the elaboration of which he made his greatest contribution\nto philosophy. The problems of knowledge and of the relation of\nthe phenomenal universe to real existence were for the first time\nmethodically treated in the school of Elea. Their solution in the\ntheory of Ideas was the main object of Plato's philosophical activity.\n\nThe unity asserted by Xenophanes gave its motto to the Eleatic school;\n#hen ta panta# became their watchword. Parmenides, however, abstracted\nfrom this unity all theological attributes. Plain existence, obtained\napparently by divesting thought of all qualifications derived from\nsensation and imagination, and regarding it in primitive and abstract\nnakedness or nothingness, was the only positive condition which he\nleft to the principle of Being; and though he seems to have identified\nthis Being with Thought, we must be careful not to be misled by\nmodern analogies into fancying that his #arch\u00ea# involved a purely\nintellectual idealism. Nor, again, can we regard it as the totality\nof things presented to the senses; the most earnest polemic of the\nphilosopher is directed against this view. The Unity, the Being, of\nParmenides, was in truth the barest metaphysical abstraction, deduced,\nwe are tempted to believe, in the first instance from a simple\nobservation of language, and yet, when formed, not wholly purged\nfrom corporeity. Being is proved by the word #esti#. The singular\nnumber indicates the unity of the subject; the present tense proves\nits eternity, for it neither asserts a _has been_ nor a _will be_,\nbut an everlasting _is_. Its antithesis not-Being is impossible and\ninconceivable; #ouk esti#. Completing his conception of Being as the\nsole reality, and carrying out the arguments attributed by Aristotle to\nhis master,[46] Parmenides shows that the eternal One is indivisible,\nimmovable, continuous, homogeneous, absolutely self-identical, beyond\nthe reach of birth, or change, or dissolution. Furthermore, it is\nfinite and spheroid. In rounding and completing his notion of the\nUnity of Being, Parmenides seems at this point to have passed into the\nregion of geometrical abstractions. The sphere of mathematics requires\nto be circumscribed by a superficies equidistant at all points from\nthe centre. These conditions of perfection Parmenides attributed to\nBeing, forgetting that the finite sphere thus conceived by him implied,\nby a necessity of human thought, a beyond against which it should be\ndefined. At the same time, this geometrical analogy prevents us from\nassuming that the further identification of Being with Thought excluded\na concrete and almost material conception of the Ens.\n\nAs opposed to this unique #arch\u00ea#, the sole and universal reality,\nwhich can only be apprehended by the reason, and which is eternally\nand continuously One, Parmenides places the totality of phenomena,\nmultiplex, diverse, subject to birth, change, division, dissolution,\nmotion. These, he asserts, are non-existent, the illusions of the\nsenses, mere names, the vague and unreal dreamworld of impotent\nmortals. Not having advanced in his analysis of thought beyond the\nfirst category of Being, he felt obliged to abandon the multiplicity\nof things as hopeless and unthinkable. Yet he cannot deny their\nphenomenal existence; there they are, deceiving the sage and the\nsimple man alike: experience asserts them; language and the opinion of\nhumanity take them for granted as realities. Parmenides feels bound\nto offer an explanation of this cosmos of illusion, this many-formed\nand many-colored mirage. His teaching consequently contains a paradox\ndeeply embedded in its very substance. Having first expounded the law\nof absolute truth, he proceeds to render a grave and meditated account\nof error. Having demonstrated the sole existence of abstract Being, he\nturns a page and begins to discourse, like any physicist of his age\nin Greece, concerning Light and Night, Hot and Cold, Fire and Earth,\nActive and Passive, Male and Female, Rare and Dense. By a singular\nirony of fate it was precisely for this portion of his teaching that\nhe received the praise of Bacon in the _Novum Organum_. To connect the\ndoctrine of Being, #ta pros al\u00eatheian#, and the doctrine of Appearance,\n#ta pros doxan#, was beyond his power. It was what Plato afterwards\nattempted in his theory of ideas, and Aristotle in the theory of\nforms and matter, #eid\u00ea# and #hyl\u00ea#. Parmenides himself seems to have\nregarded man as a part of the cosmos, subject to its phantasmagoric\nchanges and illusions, yet capable of comprehending that, while the\nsubstratum of Being is alone immutable, real, and one, all else is\nshifting, non-existent, and many. Neglect, he says, the object of\nsense, the plurality of things obedient to change, and you will arrive\nat the object of reason, the unity that alters not and can be only\napprehended by thought. Yet, while on the one hand he did not disdain\nto theorize the universe of sense, so, on the other hand, as already\nhinted, he had not arrived at the point of abstracting corporeity\nfrom Being. To do this from his point of view was indeed impossible.\nHaving posited pure Being as the sole reality, he was obliged to form\na figurative presentation of it to his own mind. A new stage had to be\naccomplished by human thought before the intellect could fairly grapple\nwith the problems nakedly and paradoxically propounded by the sage of\nElea.\n\nFrom the immense importance attached by Parmenides to the verb\n#esti#, and from his assertion that men deal with names and not with\nrealities, it followed that to his metaphysical teaching a logical set\nof corollaries had to be appended. To construct these was the task of\nZeno, his beloved pupil and authorized successor. Zeno undertook to\nmaintain the Parmenidean Unity, both against the vulgar evidence of the\nsenses and also against philosophers who, like Heraclitus, directed\ntheir attention to the flux and multiplicity of things. His method\nwas, not to prove the necessity of unity at rest, but to demonstrate\nthe contradictions involved in the ideas of plurality and motion. The\nintellectual difficulties implied in the divisibility of time and\nspace and matter were developed by Zeno with a force and subtlety that\njustified Aristotle in calling him the founder of dialectic. His logic,\nhowever, was but the expansion of positions implicit in Xenophanes and\nclearly indicated by Parmenides. How the Eleatic arguments, as further\nhandled by Melissus, helped the Sophists, and influenced the school of\nMegara, who went so far as to refuse any but identical propositions,\nare matters that belong to another chapter of Greek history. So, too,\nis Plato's attempt to resolve the antinomies revealed in human thought\nby the polemic of his predecessors. Enough has now been said to serve\nas preface to the following version of the fragments of Parmenides.\n\nHis poem--for, strange as it must always seem, Parmenides committed\nthe exposition of his austerely abstract and argumentative doctrine\nto hexameters--begins with an epical allegory. He feigns to have been\ndrawn by horses on a chariot to the house of Truth: the horses may,\nperhaps, be taken, as in Plato's vision of the _Ph\u00e6drus_, to symbolize\nfaculties of the soul; and the gates of Truth open upon two roads--one\ncalled the way of night, or error; the other, of light, or real\nknowledge. The goddess who dwells here, divine Sophia, instructs him\nequally in the lore of truth and of opinion, and makes no attempt, as\nwill be seen from her own words, to conceal the futility of the second\npart of her discourse. From a literary point of view the poem has no\nmerit. Even the exordium is stiff and tame. It begins thus:\n\n    \"The steeds which bear me, and have brought me to the bounds of\n    my desire, since they drew and carried me into the way renowned\n    of her who leads the wise man to all knowledge--on that road I\n    journeyed, on that road they bore me, those steeds of thought\n    that whirl the car along. But maidens showed the way, sun-born\n    maids, who left the halls of gloom and brought us to the light,\n    withdrawing with their fingers from their brows the veils. And\n    the axle in the socket made a whistling sound, glowing as by\n    two round wheels on either side it ran, while the steeds drove\n    the car swiftly on. There are the gates which open on the paths\n    of Night and Day. A lintel shuts them in above, and a floor of\n    stone beneath; but the airy space they close is fastened with\n    huge doors, which Justice the avenger locks or unlocks by the\n    key she holds. Her did the maidens sue with gentle words, and\n    wisely won her to draw for them the bolted barrier from the\n    gates. The gates flew open, and the doors yawned wide, back\n    rolling in the sockets their brazen hinges wrought with clasps\n    and nails. Straight through the portal drove the maidens car\n    and horses on the broad highway. And me the goddess graciously\n    received; she took my right hand in her hand, and spoke these\n    words, addressing me: 'Child of man, companion of immortal\n    charioteers, that comest drawn by horses to our home, welcome!\n    for thee no evil fate sent forth to travel on this path--far\n    from the track of men indeed it lies--but Right and Justice\n    were thy guides. Thy lot it is all things to learn; both the\n    sure heart of truth that wins assent, and the vain fancies of\n    mortals which have no real ground of faith. Yet these, too,\n    shalt thou learn, since it behooves thee to know all opinions,\n    testing them, and travelling every field of thought.'\"\n\nHere the exordium, as we possess it, ends, and we start upon the\nfragments of the lecture addressed by divine Sophia to the mortal sage.\nThe order and the connection of these fragments are more than doubtful.\nSo much, however, is clear, that they fall into two sections--the\nfirst treating of scientific truth, the second of popular opinion. The\ninstrument of knowledge in the one case is the reason; in the other the\nsenses bear confused and untrustworthy witness to phenomena.\n\n    \"Come now, for I will tell, and do thou hear and keep my words,\n    what are the only ways of inquiry that lead to knowledge. The\n    one which certifies that being is, and that not-being is not,\n    is the pathway of persuasion, for truth follows it. The other,\n    which declares that being is not, and that not-being must be,\n    that I affirm is wholly unpersuasive; for neither couldst thou\n    know not-being, since it cannot be got at, nor couldst thou\n    utter it in words, seeing that thought and being are the same.\n\n    \"To me it is indifferent where I begin, for again to the same\n    point I shall return. It must be that speech and thought are\n    being, for being is, and that not-being is nothing: which\n    things I bid thee ponder. First, keep thy mind from that path\n    of inquiry, then, too, from that on which mortals who know\n    nothing wander in doubt; helplessness sways in their breasts\n    the erring mind; hither and thither are they borne, deaf, yea,\n    and blind, in wonderment, confused crowds who fancy being and\n    not-being are the same and not the same; the way of all of them\n    leads backwards.\"\n\nSome light is thrown upon these fragments by a passage in the\n_Sophistes_ of Plato, where the Eleatic stranger is made to say: \"In\nthe days when I was a boy, the great Parmenides protested against\nthis (_i.e._, against asserting the existence of not-being), and to\nthe end of his life he continued to inculcate the same lesson--always\nrepeating, both in verse and out of verse, _Keep your mind from this\nway of inquiry, for never will you show that not-being is._\" The\nfragment which immediately follows, if we are right in assuming the\ncontinuity and order of its verses, forms the longest portion of the\npoem extant.\n\n    \"Never do thou learn to fancy that things that are not,\n    are; but keep thy mind from this path of inquiry; nor let\n    custom force thee to pursue that beaten way, to use blind\n    eyes and sounding ear and tongue, but judge by reason the\n    knotty argument which I declare. One only way of reasoning\n    is left--that being is. Wherein are many signs that it is\n    uncreate and indestructible, whole in itself, unique in kind,\n    immovable and everlasting. It never was, nor will be, since\n    it exists as a simultaneous present, a continuous unity. What\n    origin shall we seek of it? Where and how did it grow? That it\n    arose from not-being I will not suffer thee to say or think,\n    for it cannot be thought or said that being is not. Then, too,\n    what necessity could have forced it to the birth at an earlier\n    or later moment? for neither birth nor beginning belongs to\n    being. Wherefore either to be or not to be is the unconditioned\n    alternative. Nor will the might of proof allow us to believe\n    that anything can spring from being but itself. Therefore\n    the law of truth permits no birth or dissolution in it, no\n    remission of its chains, but holds it firm. This, then, is the\n    point for decision: it is, or it is not. Now we have settled,\n    as necessity obliged, to leave the one path, inconceivable,\n    unnamed, for it is not the true way; but to affirm, as sure,\n    that being is. How then could being have a future or a past?\n    If it began to be, or if it is going to be, then it is not:\n    wherefore birth and death are alike put aside as inconceivable.\n    Nor is it divisible, since it is all homogeneous, in no part\n    more itself than in another, which would prevent its coherence,\n    nor in any part less; but all is full of being. Wherefore it\n    is one continuous whole, for being draws to being. Immovable\n    within the bounds of its great chains it is, without beginning,\n    without end, since birth and dissolution have moved far away,\n    whom certainty repelled. Eternally the same, in the same state,\n    for and by itself, it abides; thus fixed and firm it stays, for\n    strong necessity holds it in the chains of limit and clinches\n    it around. Wherefore being cannot be infinite, seeing it lacks\n    nothing; and if it were, it would lack all.\n\n    \"Look now at things which, though absent, are present to the\n    mind. For never shall being from being be sundered so as to\n    lose its continuity by dispersion or recombination.\n\n    \"Thought and the object of thought are the same, for without\n    being, in which is affirmation, thou wilt not find thought. For\n    nothing is or will be besides being, since fate hath bound it\n    to remain alone and unmoved, which is named the universe--all\n    things that mortal men held fixed, believing in their\n    truth--birth and death, to be and not to be, change of place,\n    and variety of color.\n\n    \"Now since the extreme limit of being is defined, the whole is\n    like a well-rounded sphere, of equal radius in all directions,\n    for it may not be less or greater in one part or another.\n    For neither is there not-being to prevent its attaining to\n    equality, nor is it possible that being should in one place be\n    more and in another less than being, since all is inviolably\n    one. For this is certain, that it abides, an equal whole all\n    round, within its limits.\n\n    \"Here, then, I conclude my true discourse and meditation upon\n    Truth. Turn now and learn the opinions of men listening to the\n    deceptive order of my words.\"\n\nThe divine Sophia calls the speech which she is about to utter\ndeceptive (#apat\u00ealon#), because it has to do no longer with the\nimmutable and imperturbable laws of entity, but only with the delusions\nto which the human mind is exposed by the evidence of the senses. If\nParmenides had been in any true sense of the word a poet, he would\nnot have subjected Sophia to the ridicule of condemning her own\nobservations, when he might have invented some other machinery for\nthe conveyance of his physical hypothesis. Nothing, in fact, can be\nmore artistically monstrous than to put lies into the mouth of Truth\npersonified. The fragments of this portion of his poem may, in spite of\ntheir scientific worthlessness, be translated, if only for the sake of\ncompleteness. We must suppose, therefore, that Wisdom has resumed her\nparable, and is speaking as follows:\n\n    \"Two forms have they determined by their minds to name, for\n    those are wrong who take but one of these. Corporeally and by\n    signs they have distinguished them, setting on the one side\n    fire, ethereal, gentle, very subtle, everywhere identical, but\n    different from the other element. That, too, is self-identical,\n    diverse from fire, dark night, a thick and weighty body.\n    Of these I will reveal to you the whole disposition, as it\n    appears, so that no thought of mortals may ever elude you.\n\n    \"Now, seeing that all things are called by the name of light\n    and night, and the qualities that severally pertain to them,\n    the universe is full of light and murky night, rivals equally\n    balanced, since neither partakes of the other.\n\n    \"For the narrower spheres have been fashioned of impure fire;\n    those next of night, interpenetrated by a portion of flame;\n    and in the midst of all is the goddess who controls the whole.\n    For everywhere she is the cause of dire parturition and\n    procreation, making female mix with male, and male with female.\"\n\nAt this point in the murky exposition there shines forth a single line,\nwhich, seized upon by poets and poetic souls in after-years, traverses\nthe dismal waste of false physics and imperfect metaphysics like a\nstreak of inspiration--\"fair as a star when only one is shining in the\nsky.\"\n\n    \"Love, first of all the gods, she formed.\"\n\n    \"Thou, too, shalt know the nature of ether, and in ether all\n    the signs, and the hidden acts of the bright sun's pure lamp,\n    and whence they sprang; and thou shalt learn the revolutions\n    of the round-eyed moon, and whence she is; and thou shalt\n    understand the all-surrounding heaven, whence it arose, and how\n    fate ruling it bound it to keep the limits of the stars.\n\n    \"How earth and sun and moon and ether shared by all, and the\n    galaxy and farthest Olympus, and the hot might of stars sprang\n    into being.\n\n    \"Another light that shines in revolution round the earth by\n    night.\n\n    \"Forever gazing at the radiant sun.\n\n    \"For as the elements are mixed in the jointed framework of our\n    limbs, so are the minds of men made up. For the nature of the\n    members is the same as that which thinks in the case of all and\n    each; it is mind that rules.\n\n    \"From the right side boys, from the left girls.\n\n    \"Thus, according to opinion, were born and now are these\n    things; and afterwards, when they have grown to the full, will\n    perish: whereto men have affixed unto each a name.\"\n\nIt is only by a complete translation of the extant fragments of\nParmenides that any notion can be formed of the hiatus between what\nhe chose to call truth and what he termed opinion. As a thinker,\nhe revealed both the weakness of his metaphysical system and the\nsincerity of his intention by proclaiming this abrupt division between\nthe realm of the pure reason and the field of the senses, without\nattempting a synthesis. No other speculator has betrayed the vanity\nof dogmatism about the absolute more conclusively by the simultaneous\npresentation of lame guesses in the region of the relative. The\nimpartial student of his verse is forced to the conclusion that the\ntitles #ta pros al\u00eatheian# and #ta pros doxan#, which have been given\nto the two departments of his exposition, are both arbitrary; for what\nwarrant have we that his intuitions into the nature of pure being\nare more certain than his guesses about the conditions of phenomenal\nexistence? Parmenides might, indeed, be selected as a parable of the\nhuman mind pretending to a knowledge of the unconditioned truth,\nand, after all, arriving at nothing more cogent than opinion.\nThe innumerable ontological assertions which in the pride of the\nspeculative reason have been made by men are #doxai#; and the epigram\npointed by Parmenides against the common folk is equally applicable to\nhis own sect--\n\n    #K\u00f4phoi hom\u00f4s typhloi te, teth\u00eapotes, akrita phyla.#\n\nAs soon as men begin to dogmatize, whether the supposed truth to\nwhich they pin their faith be the barest metaphysical abstraction or\nsome assumed intuition into the divine nature, they create a schism\nbetween the multiplicity of the universe and the unity which they\nproclaim. In other words, they distinguish, like Parmenides, between\nwhat they arbitrarily denote as truth and what they cannot account\nfor as phenomena. To quit the sphere of our own mind is impossible;\nand, therefore, nothing can be discovered which is not some mode of\nthe mind. The utmost the metaphysician can do is to describe the\noperations of the human intellect without explaining its existence, and\nall systematized knowledge is but a classification of the categories\nof consciousness. Thus the sophistic position that man is for man\nthe measure of all things is irrefutable. But when he attempts to\nhypostasize his own thoughts as realities, to argue outward from\nhis conceptions to the universe, this is the same as taking a leap\nin the dark across an undefined abyss from the only ascertained\nstanding-ground to a hypothetical beyond.\n\nDuring the two-and-twenty centuries which have elapsed since the days\nof Parmenides, the philosophers have learned wisdom. They are now too\nwary to parade the distinction between two kinds of opinion, and to\nconstruct one system of truth, another of illusion. They either content\nthemselves with omitting what they regard as the insoluble, or they\nendeavor to invent an all-embracing schema, which shall supersede the\ncruder distinctions between subject and object, mind and nature, ego\nand non-ego. Yet nothing in the realm of absolute knowledge has been\ngained in all this space of time.\n\nThe owl of Minerva, to quote one of Hegel's most luminous epigrams,\nstill starts upon its flight when the evening twilight, succeeding the\nday of work, has fallen. Metaphysic goes on shaping from the human\nconsciousness a fabric which it calls reality. Science has magnified\nand multiplied phenomena until, instead of one, we have in every\ncase a million problems to employ intelligence. Social conditions\ngrow more complex, and more and more is ascertained about the inner\nlife of man. But the fact remains that, while theologian, logician,\nphysicist, and moralist, each from his own standing-point, may cry\n\"Eureka!\" we can know nothing in itself. The most complicated system,\ncreated by the Aristotle of the modern world, involves at the outset an\nassumption. From reflection on the laws of human thought, on the varied\nacquisitions of the human mind, and on the successive phases of human\nhistory, it carries over the synthetic statement of its conclusions\nto the account of the universe. In other words, it postulates the\nidentity of the human and the divine mind, and ends by asserting that\nthought is the only reality. Does not a fallacy lie in this, that while\nthe mind possesses the faculty of reflecting upon itself, everything\nwhich it knows is of necessity expressed in terms of itself, and\ntherefore in pretending to give an account of the universe it is only\ngiving an account of its own operations? The philosophy of the _Id\u00e9e_\nis thus a way of looking at things; to explain them or deduce them is\nbeyond its reach. How, for example, except by exercise of faith, by\ndogmatism and initial begging of the question, can we be assured that\nan intelligence differently constituted from the human mind should\nnot cognize a different #kosmos no\u00eatos#, or intelligible world, and\nbe equally justified in claiming to have arrived at truth? It is\ncomparatively easy to acquire encyclop\u00e6dic knowledge, to construct a\nsystem, to call the keystone of the system the _Id\u00e9e_, and to assert\nthat the _Id\u00e9e_ is God. But is all this of any value except as a\nmachine for arranging and formulating thoughts and opinions? At the end\nof philosophies one feels tempted to exclaim:\n\n    I heard what was said of the universe,\n    Heard it and heard it of several thousand years:\n    It is middling well as far as it goes,--But is that all?\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[44] In my translations of the fragments of Xenophanes and Parmenides,\nI have followed the text of their most recent editor, W. A. Mullach,\nnot without reference, however, to that of Karsten, some of whose\nemendations seem almost necessary to the sense. The meaning of\nmany Parmenidean sentences may, however, be fairly said to be now\nirrecoverable, owing to the uncertainty of readings and the lack of\ncontext.\n\n[45] This and the two following translations from Plato are Professor\nJewett's.\n\n[46] See the treatise _De Xenophane, Zenone, et Gorgia_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n_EMPEDOCLES._\n\n    The Grandeur of his Fame.--His Versatility of Genius.--His\n        Mysticism.--His Supposed Miracles.--Legends about his\n        Death.--His Political Action.--His Poems.--Estimation\n        in which the Ancients held them.--Their Prophetic\n        Fervor.--Belief in Metempsychosis.--Purifying\n        Rites.--Contempt for the Knowledge of the Senses.--Physical\n        Theories.--The Poem on Nature.--The Four Elements.--The\n        Sph\u00e6rus.--Love and Discord.--The Eclecticism of Empedocles.\n\n\nThe figure of Empedocles of Agrigentum, when seen across the\ntwenty-three centuries which separate us from him, presents perhaps\na more romantic appearance than that of any other Greek philosopher.\nThis is owing, in a great measure, to the fables which invest his life\nand death with mystery, to his reputation for magical power, and to\nthe wild sublimity of some of his poetic utterances. Yet, even in his\nlifetime, and among contemporary Greeks, he swept the stage of life\nlike a great tragic actor, and left to posterity the fame of genius\nas a poet, a physician, a patriot, and a philosopher. The well-known\nverses of Lucretius are enough to prove that the glory of Empedocles\nincreased with age, and bore the test of time. Reading them, we cannot\nbut regret that poems which so stirred the reverent enthusiasm of\nRome's greatest singer have been scattered to the winds, and that what\nwe now possess of their remains affords but a poor sample of their\nunimpaired magnificence.\n\nNothing is more remarkable about Empedocles than his versatility\nand comprehensiveness. Other men of his age were as nobly born, as\ngreat in philosophic power, as distinguished for the part they bore\nin politics, as celebrated for poetic genius, as versed in mystic\nlore, in medicine, and in magic arts. But Parmenides, Pythagoras,\nPausanias, and Epimenides could claim honor in but one, or two at most,\nof these departments. Empedocles united all, and that too, if we may\njudge by the temper of his genius and the few legends handed down to\nus about his life, in no ordinary degree. He seems to have possessed\na warmth and richness of nature which inclined him to mysticism and\npoetry, and gave a tone of peculiar solemnity to everything he did or\nthought or said. At the same time, he was attracted by the acuteness\nof his intellect to the metaphysical inquiries which were agitating\nthe western colonies of Greece, while his rare powers of observation\nenabled him to make discoveries in the then almost unexplored region\nof natural science. The age in which he lived had not yet thrown off\nthe form of poetry in philosophical composition. Even Parmenides had\ncommitted his austere theories to hexameter verse. Therefore, the\nsage of Agrigentum was easily led to concentrate his splendid powers\non the production of one great work, and made himself a poet among\nphilosophers, and a philosopher among poets, without thereby impairing\nhis claims to rank highly both as a poet and also as a thinker among\nthe most distinguished men of Greece. But Empedocles had not only\ndeeply studied metaphysics, nature, and the arts of verse; whatever was\nmysterious in the world around him, in the guesses of past ages, and\nin the forebodings of his own heart, possessed a powerful attraction\nfor the man who thought himself inspired of God. Having embraced the\nPythagorean theories, he maintained the fallen state of men, and\nimplored his fellow-creatures to purge away the guilt by which they had\nbeen disinherited and exiled from the joys of heaven. Thus he appeared\nbefore his countrymen not only as a poet and philosopher, but also as\na priest and purifier. Born of a wealthy and illustrious house, he did\nnot expend his substance merely on horse-racing and chariots, by which\nmeans of display his ancestors had gained a princely fame in Sicily;\nbut, not less proud than they had been, he shod himself with golden\nsandals, set the laurel crown upon his head, and, trailing robes of\nTyrian purple through the streets of Agrigentum, went attended by a\ncrowd of serving-men and reverent admirers. He claimed to be a favorite\nof Phoebus, and rose at length to the pretension of divinity. His own\nwords show this, gravely spoken, with no vain assumption, but with a\ncertainty of honor well deserved:\n\n    \"Friends who dwell in the great city hard by the yellow\n    stream of Acragas, who live on the Acropolis, intent on\n    honorable cares, harbors revered of strangers, ignorant of\n    what is vile, welcome; but I appear before you an immortal\n    god, having overpassed the limits of mortality, and walk with\n    honor among all, as is my due, crowned with long fillets and\n    luxuriant garlands. No sooner do I enter their proud prosperous\n    cities than men and women pay me reverence, who follow me in\n    thousands, asking the way to profit, some desiring oracles, and\n    others racked by long and cruel torments, hanging on my lips to\n    hear the spells that pacify disease of every kind.\"\n\nWe can hardly wonder that some of the fellow-citizens of Empedocles\nwere jealous of his pretensions, and regarded him with suspicious envy\nand dislike, when we read such lines of lofty self-exaltation. Indeed,\nit is difficult for men of the nineteenth century to understand how\na great and wise philosopher could lay claim to divine honors in his\nown lifetime. This arrogance we have been accustomed to associate\nwith the names of a Caligula and a Claudius. Yet when we consider the\ncircumstances in which Empedocles was placed, and the nature of his\ntheories, our astonishment diminishes. The line of demarcation between\nthis world and the supernatural was then but vague and undetermined.\nPopular theology abounded in legends of gods who had held familiar\nintercourse with men, and of men who had been raised by prowess or\nwisdom to divinity. The pedigrees of all distinguished families ended\nin a god at no great distance. Nor was it then a mere figure of speech\nwhen bards and priests claimed special revelations from Apollo, or\nphysicians styled themselves the children of Asclepius. Heaven lay\naround the first Greeks in their infancy of art and science; it was\nlong before the vision died away and faded into the sober daylight of\nAristotelian philosophy. Thus when Empedocles proclaimed himself a\ngod, he only stretched beyond the usual limit a most common pretension\nof all men learned in arts and sciences. His own speculations gave\nhim further warrant for the assumption of the style of deity; for he\nheld the belief that all living souls had once been d\u00e6mons or divine\nspirits, who had lost their heavenly birthright for some crime of\nimpurity or violence, and yet were able to restore themselves to\npristine splendor by the rigorous exercise of abstinence and expiatory\nrites. These rites he thought he had discovered. He had prayed and\nfasted; he had held communion with Phoebus the purifier, and received\nthe special favor of that god, by being made a master in the arts of\nsong and magic and healing and priestcraft. Was he not, therefore,\njustified in saying that he had won again his rights divine, and\ntransformed himself into a god on earth? His own words tell the history\nof his fall:\n\n    \"Woe to me that I did not fall a prey to death before I took\n    the cursed food within my lips!... From what glory, from what\n    immeasurable bliss, have I now sunk to roam with mortals on\n    this earth?\"\n\nAgain, he says:\n\n    \"For I have been in by-gone times a youth, a maiden, and a\n    flowering shrub, a bird, yea, and a fish that swims in silence\n    the deep sea.\"\n\nFrom this degraded state the spirit gradually emerges. Of the noblest\nsouls he says:\n\n    \"Among beasts they become lions dwelling in caverns of the\n    earth upon the hills, and laurels among leafy trees, ... and at\n    last prophets and bards and physicians and chiefs among the men\n    of earth, from whence they rise to be gods supreme in honor,\n    ... sitting at banquets with immortal comrades, in their feasts\n    unvisited by human cares, beyond the reach of fate and wearing\n    age.\"\n\nEmpedocles, by dint of pondering on nature, by long penance, by the\nillumination of his intellect and the coercion of his senses, had been\nraised before the natural term of life to that high honor, and been\nmade the fellow of immortal gods. His language upon this topic is one\nof the points in which we can trace an indistinct resemblance between\nhim and some of the Indian mystics. There is, however, no reason to\nsuppose that Asiatic thought had any marked or direct influence on\nGreek philosophy. It is better to refer such similarities to the\nworking of the same tendencies in the Greek and Hindoo minds.\n\nTo those who disbelieved his words he showed the mighty works which\nhe had wrought. Empedocles, during his lifetime, was known to have\nachieved marvels, such as only supernatural powers could compass.\nMore than common sagacity and ingenuity in the treatment of natural\ndiseases, or in the removal of obstacles to national prosperity, were\neasily regarded by the simple people of those times as the evidence\nof divine authority. Empedocles had devised means for protecting the\ncitizens of Agrigentum from the fury of destructive winds. What these\nmeans were, we do not know; but he received in consequence the title of\n#k\u00f4lysanemas#, or warder-off of winds. Again, he resuscitated, from the\nvery jaws of death, a woman who lay senseless and unable to breathe,\nlong after all physicians had despaired of curing her. This entitled\nhim to be regarded as a master of the keys of life and death; nor\ndid he fail to attribute his own power to the virtue of supernatural\nspells. But the greatest of his achievements was the deliverance which\nhe wrought for the people of Selinus from a grievous pestilence. It\nseems that, some exhalations from a marsh having caused this plague,\nEmpedocles, at his own cost, cut a channel for two rivers through the\nfen, and purged away the fetid vapors. A short time after the cessation\nof the sickness, Empedocles, attired in tragic state, appeared before\nthe Selinuntians at a banquet. His tall and stately figure wore the\npriestly robe; his brazen sandals rang upon the marble as he slowly\nmoved with front benign and solemn eyes; beneath the sacrificial\nchaplet flowed his long Phoebean locks, and in his hand he bore a\nbranch of bay. The nobles of Selinus rose; the banquet ceased; all did\nhim reverence, and hailed him as a god, deliverer of their city, friend\nof Phoebus, intercessor between angry heaven and suffering men.\n\nClosely connected with his claim to divinity was the position which\nEmpedocles assumed as an enchanter. Gorgias, his pupil, asserts that\nhe often saw him at the magic rites. Nor are we to suppose that this\nwizardry was a popular misinterpretation of his real power as a\nphysician and philosopher. It is far more probable that Empedocles\nhimself believed in the potency of incantations, and delighted in the\nceremonies and mysterious songs by which the dead were recalled from\nHades, and secrets of the other world wrung from unwilling fate. We can\nform to ourselves a picture of this stately and magnificent enchanter,\nconvinced of his own supernatural ascendency, and animated by the wild\nenthusiasm of his ardent nature, alone among the mountains of Girgenti,\nor by the sea-shore, invoking the elemental deities to aid his\nincantations, and ascribing the forebodings of his own poetic spirit\nto external inspiration or the voice of gods. In solitary meditations\nhe had wrought out a theory of the world, and had conceived the notion\nof a spiritual God, one and unseen, pure intellect, an everlasting\nomnipresent power, to whom might be referred those natural remedies\nthat stopped the plague, or cured the sick, or found new channels for\nthe streams. The early Greek philosophers were fond of attributing to\nsome \"common wisdom\" of the world, some animating soul or universal\nintellect, the arts and intuitions to which they had themselves\nattained. Therefore, with this belief predominating in his mind, it is\nnot strange that he should have trusted to the divine efficacy of his\nown spells, and have regarded the results of observation as a kind of\nsupernatural wisdom. To his friend Pausanias the physician he makes\nthese lofty promises, \"Thou shalt learn every kind of medicines that\navert diseases and the evils of old age. Thou too shalt curb the fury\nof untiring winds, and when it pleases thee thou shalt reverse thy\ncharms and loose avenging storms. Thou shalt replace black rain-clouds\nwith the timely drought that men desire, and when the summer's arid\nheat prevails, thou shalt refresh the trees with showers that rustle\nin the thirsty corn. And thou shalt bring again from Hades the life\nof a departed man.\" Like the Pythagoreans whom he followed, he seems\nto have employed the fascination of music in effecting cures: it is\nrecorded of him that he once arrested the hand of a young man about to\nslay his father, by chanting to the lyre a solemn soul-subduing strain.\nThe strong belief in himself which Empedocles possessed inspired him\nwith immense personal influence, so that his looks and words and tones\nwent further than the force of other men. He compelled them to follow\nand confide in him, like Orpheus, or like those lofty natures which\nin every age have had the power of leading and controlling others by\ninnate supremacy. That Empedocles tried to exhibit this superiority,\nand to heighten its effect by gorgeous raiment and profuse expenditure,\nby public ceremonies and mysterious modes of life, we need not\ndoubt. There was much of the spirit of Paracelsus in Empedocles, and\nvanity impaired the simple grandeur of his genius. In every age of\nthe world's history there have been some such men--men in whom the\nhighest intellectual gifts are blended with weakness inclining them\nto superstitious juggleries. Not content with their philosophical\npretensions, or with poetical renown, they seek a more mysterious fame,\nand mix the pure gold of their reason with the dross of idle fancy.\nTheir very weakness adds a glow of color, which we miss in the whiter\nlight of more purely scientific intellects. They are men in whom two\nnatures cross--the poet and the philosopher, the mountebank and the\nseer, the divine and the fortune-teller, the rigorous analyst and the\nretailer of old wives' tales. But none have equalled Empedocles, in\nwhose capacious idiosyncrasy the most opposite qualities found ample\nroom for coexistence, who sincerely claimed the supernatural faculties\nwhich Paracelsus must have only half believed, and who lived at a time\nwhen poetry and fact were indistinguishably mingled, and when the\nworld was still absorbed in dreams of a past golden age, and in rich\nforeshadowings of a boundless future.\n\nWe are not, therefore, surprised to read the fantastic legends which\ninvolve his death in a mystery. Whatever ground of fact they may\npossess, they are wholly consistent with the picture we have formed\nto ourselves of the philosopher, and prove at least the superstition\nwhich had gathered round his name. One of these legends has served\nall ages as a moral for the futility of human designs, and for the\njust reward of inordinate vanity. Every one who knows the name of\nEmpedocles has heard that, having jumped into Etna in order to conceal\nthe time and manner of his death, and thus to establish his divinity,\nfate frustrated his schemes by casting up his brazen slippers on the\ncrater's edge. According to another legend, which resembles that of the\ndeath of Romulus, of Oedipus, and other divinized heroes, Empedocles is\nrelated to have formed one of a party of eighty men who assembled to\ncelebrate by sacrifice his restoration of the dying woman. After their\nbanquet they retired to sleep. But Empedocles remained in his seat at\ntable. When morning broke, Empedocles was nowhere to be found. In reply\nto the question of his friends, some one asserted that he had heard a\nloud voice calling on Empedocles at midnight, and that, starting up,\nhe saw a light from heaven and burning torches. Pausanias, who was\npresent at the sacrificial feast, sent far and wide to inquire for his\nfriend, wishing to test the truth of this report. But piety restrained\nhis search, and he was secretly informed by heavenly messengers that\nEmpedocles had won what he had sought, and that divine honors should be\npaid to him. This story rests on the authority of Heraclides Ponticus,\nwho professed to have obtained it from Pausanias. The one legend we may\nregard as the coinage of his foes, the other as a myth created by the\nsuperstitious admiration of his friends.\n\nWe have hitherto regarded Empedocles more in his private and priestly\ncharacter than as a citizen. Yet it was not to be expected that a man\nso nobly born, and so remarkable for intellectual power, should play no\npublic part in his native state. A Greek could hardly avoid meddling\nwith politics, even if he wished to do so, and Empedocles was not one\nto hide his genius in the comparative obscurity of private life. While\nhe was still a young man, Theron, the wise tyrant of Agrigentum, died,\nand a powerful aristocracy endeavored to enslave the state. Empedocles\nmanfully resisted them, supporting the liberal cause with vehemence,\nand winning so much popular applause that he is even reported to have\nreceived and refused the offer of the kingly power. By these means he\nmade himself many foes among the nobility of Agrigentum; it is also\nprobable that suspicion attached to him for trying to establish in his\nnative city the Pythagorean commonwealth, which had been extirpated in\nSouth Italy. That he loved spiritual dominion we have seen; and this he\nmight have hoped to acquire more easily by taking the intellectual lead\namong citizens of equal rights than by throwing in his lot with the\naristocratic party, or by exposing himself to the dangers and absorbing\ncares of a Greek tyrant. At any rate, it is recorded that he impeached\nand procured the execution of the leaders of the aristocracy; thus\nrescuing the liberty of his nation at the expense of his own security.\nAfter a visit to Peloponnesus, Empedocles returned to Agrigentum,\nbut was soon obliged to quit his home again by the animosity of his\npolitical enemies. Where he spent the last years of his life, and died,\nremains uncertain.\n\nIt remains to estimate the poetical and philosophical renown of\nEmpedocles. That his genius was highly valued among the ancients\nappears manifest from the panegyric of Lucretius. Nor did he fail to\nexhibit the versatility of his powers in every branch of poetical\ncomposition. Diogenes Laertius affirms that forty-three tragedies\nbearing his name were known to Hieronymus, from whom he drew materials\nfor the life of Empedocles. Whether these tragedies were really written\nby the philosopher or by another Sicilian of the same name admits of\ndoubt. But there is no reason why an author possessed of such varied\nand distinguished talents as Empedocles should not have tried this\nspecies of composition. Xenophanes is said to have composed tragedies;\nand Plato's youthful efforts would, we fondly imagine, have afforded\nthe world fresh proofs of his commanding genius, had they escaped\nthe flames to which they were condemned by his maturer judgment.\nNo fragments of the tragedies of Empedocles survive; they probably\nbelonged to the class of semi-dithyrambic compositions which prevailed\nat Athens before the days of \u00c6schylus, and which continued to be\ncultivated in Sicily. Some of the lyrical plays of the Italians--such,\nfor instance, as the _Orfeo_ of Poliziano--may enable us to form an\nidea of these simple dramas. After the tragedies, Diogenes makes\nmention of political poems. These may be referred to the period of the\nearly manhood of Empedocles, when he was engaged in combat with the\ndomineering aristocracy, and when he might have sought to spread his\nliberal principles through the medium of gnomic elegies, like those\nof Solon or Theognis. The fragments of the #katharmoi#, or poem on\nlustral rites, sufficiently display his style of earnest and imperious\nexhortation to make us believe that at a time of political contention\nhe would not spare this powerful instrument of persuasion and attack.\nIn the next place, we hear of an epic poem on the invasion of Greece by\nXerxes, which Empedocles is said to have left unfinished, and which his\nsister or his daughter burned with other papers at his death. The great\ndefeat of the Medes took place while Empedocles was still a youth. All\nHellas had hung with breathless expectation on the events of Marathon\nand Salamis. The fall of Xerxes brought freedom and relief from\nterrible anxiety, not only to the towns of Attica and the Peloponnesus,\nbut also to the shores of Sicily and Italy. It is not, therefore,\nunlikely that the triumph which excited Simonides and \u00c6schylus to\nthe production of masterpieces may have stirred the spirit of the\nyouthful patriot of Agrigentum. Another composition of Empedocles which\nperished under his sister's hands was a Proemium to Apollo. The loss\nof this poem is deeply to be regretted. Empedocles regarded himself\nas specially protected by the god of song and medicine and prophetic\ninsight. His genius would therefore naturally take its highest flight\nin singing praises to this mighty patron. The hymn to Zeus, which has\nbeen ascribed to Cleanthes, and some of the pseudo-Orphic declamations,\nmay give us an idea of the gravity and enthusiasm which Empedocles\nwould have displayed in treating so stirring a theme. Of his remaining\nworks we possess fragments. The great poem on Nature, the Lustral\nPrecepts, and the Discourse on Medicine were all celebrated among\nthe ancients. Fortunately, the inductions to the first and second of\nthese have been preserved, and some lines addressed to Pausanias may\nbe regarded as forming the commencement of the third. It is from these\nfragments, amounting in all to about 470 lines, that we must form our\njudgment of Empedocles, the poet and the sage.\n\nThat Empedocles was a poet of the didactic order is clear from the\nnature of his subjects. Even as early as the time of Aristotle, critics\ndisputed as to whether poems written for the purpose of scientific\ninstruction deserved the name of poetry. In the _Poetics_, Aristotle\nsays, #ouden de koinon estin Hom\u00ear\u00f4i kai Empedoklei pl\u00ean to metron;\ndio ton men poi\u00eat\u00ean dikaion kalein, ton de physiologon mallon \u00ea\npoi\u00eat\u00ean#.[47] The title #physiologos#, or philosopher of nature, was\nof course generic, and might have been claimed by Heraclitus, on the\nstrength of his prose writings, no less than by Empedocles. Lucretius,\nin the exordium to his poem, argues for the utility of disguising\nscientific precepts under the more attractive form of art; as we\nsweeten the lips of the vessel that contains bitter medicine, in order\nto induce the child to take it readily. And not only had Empedocles\nthis reason in his favor for the use of verse, but also, at the age in\nwhich he lived, it was still a novelty to write prose at all; nor would\nit have been consistent with his theories of inspiration, and with the\nmysticism he professed, to abandon the poetic form of utterance. He\ntherefore thought and wrote hexameters as naturally as the scientific\nmen of the present day think and write their sentences and paragraphs,\nuntil the discourse is formed into a perfect whole. Allowing, then, for\nthe subject of his poem, Empedocles was regarded by antiquity as first\namong the Greek didactic singers, though he competed with Parmenides\nfor this distinction, and was placed upon a level with Lucretius.\nLactantius mentions them both together, in his definition of this kind\nof poetry. And Aristotle, in another treatise, now lost, but quoted\nby Diogenes, praises the artistic genius of the philosopher in these\nwords: #Kai Hom\u00earikos ho Empedokl\u00eas kai deinos peri t\u00ean phrasin gegone\nmetaphorikos te \u00f4n kai tois allois peri t\u00ean poi\u00eatik\u00ean epiteugmasi\nchr\u00f4menos#.[48] The epithet #Hom\u00earikos# is very just; for not only is\nit clear that Empedocles had studied the poems of Homer with care, and\nhad imbibed their phraseology, but he also possessed a genius akin\nto that of Homer in love of simplicity, in fidelity to nature, in\nunimpeded onward flow of energetic verse.\n\nThe simile of the girl playing with a water-clock, whereby Empedocles\nillustrates his theory of respiration, and that of the lantern,\nwhich serves to explain his notion of the structure of the eye,\nare both of them Homeric in their unadorned simplicity and vigor.\nAgain, such epithets as these, #polyaimaton# (full-blooded) for the\nliver, #hilaeira# (gentle) for the moon, #oxybel\u00eas# (quick-darting)\nfor the sun, #polystephanos# (crowned) for majesty, #themer\u00f4pis#\n(grave-visaged) for harmony, and the constant repetition of #theoi\ndolichai\u00f4nes tim\u00eaisi pheristoi# (the long-aged gods in honor foremost),\nhave the true Homeric ring. Like Homer, he often chooses an epithet\nspecific of the object which he wishes to describe, but not especially\nsuited to the matter of his argument. Thus #polyklaut\u00f4n gynaik\u00f4n#\n(women given to tears) occurs where there is no particular reason to\nfix the mind upon the tearfulness of women. But the poetic value of\nthe passage is increased by the mind being thus carried away from the\nlogical order of ideas to a generality on which it can repose. At\nother times, when this is necessary, the epithets are as accurately\ndescriptive as those of a botanist or zoologist: #en konchaisi\nthalassonomois baryn\u00f4tois# (in whelks that inhabit the sea with heavy\nbacks) ... #lithorrhin\u00f4n te chel\u00f4n\u00f4n# (stony-coated tortoises), for\nexample. Again, Empedocles gives rein to his imagination by creating\nbold metaphors; he calls the flesh #sark\u00f4n chit\u00f4n# (a robe of flesh),\nand birds #pterobamonas kymbas# (boats that move with wings). Referring\nto his four elements, he thus personifies their attributes: \"Fiery\nZeus, and Her\u00e8, source of vital breath, and Aidoneus, and Nestis, with\nher tears.\" At another time he speaks of \"earth, and ocean with his\ncountless waves, and liquid air, the sun-god and ether girdling round\nthe universe in its embrace.\"\n\nThe passage, too, in which he describes the misery of earth rises to\na sublime height. It may well have served as the original of Virgil's\ncelebrated lines in the sixth \u00c6neid:\n\n    \"I lifted up my voice, I wept and wailed, when I beheld the\n    unfamiliar shore. A hideous shore, on which dwell murder, envy,\n    and the troop of baleful destinies, wasting corruption, and\n    disease. Through At\u00e9's meadow they go wandering up and down in\n    gloom. There was the queen of darkness, and Heliope with her\n    far-searching eyes, and bloody strife, and mild-eyed peace,\n    beauty and ugliness, swiftness and sloth, and lovely truth, and\n    insincerity with darkling brows. Birth too and death, slumber\n    and wakefulness, motion and immobility, crowned majesty and\n    squalid filth, discordant clamor and the voice of gods.\"\n\nWe can understand by these passages how Empedocles not only was\ncompared with Homer by Aristotle, but also with Thucydides and \u00c6schylus\nby Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who speaks of his \"austere harmony\"\n(#aust\u00earan harmonian#). The conciseness of his argumentative passages,\nthe breadth of his treatment, and the dryness of his coloring, to quote\nthe terms of painting, resemble the style of Thucydides, while his\nbold figures and gloomy grandeur are like those of \u00c6schylus. Plutarch,\nin the treatise on the genius of Socrates, speaks of the style of\nEmpedocles at large, both as regards his poems and his theories, as\n\"inspired with dithyrambic ecstasy\" (#mala bebakcheumen\u00ea#). This seems\na contradiction to the \"austere harmony\" of Dionysius. But there are\npassages which justify the title. This exordium, for instance, savors\nof prophetic fury:\n\n    \"It stands decreed by fate, an ancient ordinance of the\n    immortal gods, established from everlasting, ratified by ample\n    oaths, that, when a spirit of that race, which has inherited\n    the length of years divine, sinfully stains his limbs with\n    blood, he must go forth to wander thrice ten thousand years\n    from heaven, passing from birth to birth through every form of\n    mortal mutability, changing the toilsome paths of life without\n    repose, even as I now roam, exiled from God, an outcast on this\n    world, the bondman of insensate strife.\n\n    \"Alas, ill-fated race of mortals, thrice accursed! from what\n    dire struggles and what groans have ye been born! The air in\n    its anger drives them to the sea, and ocean spues them forth\n    upon the solid land, earth tosses them into the flames of the\n    untiring sun, he flings them back again into the whirlwinds of\n    the air; from one to the other are they cast, and all abhor\n    them.\"\n\nAnd the following adjuration has a frantic energy, to modern readers\nalmost laughable but for its indubitable gravity:\n\n    Wretches, thrice wretches, keep your hands from beans!\n\nor, again, with reference to the abomination of animal food:\n\n    \"The father drags along his dear son changed in form, and slays\n    him, pouring prayers upon his head. But the son goes begging\n    mercy from his maniac sire. The father heeds him not, but goads\n    him on, and, having slaughtered him, prepares a cursed meal.\n    In like manner sons take their fathers, and children their\n    mothers, and tearing out the life devour the kindred flesh.\n    Will ye not put an end to this accursed slaughter? Will ye not\n    see that ye consume each other in blind ignorance of soul?\"\n\nIt is not strange that the poems of Empedocles were pilfered by\noracle-mongers in after-ages.\n\nBesides these passages, there are some of a milder beauty which deserve\nhigh praise for their admirable power of suggesting the picture that\nthe poet wishes to convey. The following lines describe the golden age\nof old, to which Empedocles looked back with melancholy longing:\n\n    \"There every animal was tame and familiar with men, both beasts\n    and birds, and mutual love prevailed. Trees flourished with\n    perpetual leaves and fruits, and ample crops adorned their\n    boughs through all the year. Nor had these happy people any\n    Ares or mad Uproar for their god; nor was their monarch Zeus,\n    or Kronos, or Poseidon, but Queen Cypris. Her favor they\n    besought with pious symbols and with images, and fragrant\n    essences, and censers of pure myrrh, and frankincense, and with\n    brown honey poured upon the ground. The altars did not reek\n    with bullocks' gore.\"\n\nIt may sound ridiculous to say so, yet Empedocles resembles Shelley in\nthe quality of his imagination and in many of his utterances. The lines\njust quoted, the belief in a beneficent universal soul of nature, the\nhatred of animal food, the love of all things moving or growing on the\nface of earth, the sense of ancient misery and present evil, are all,\nallowing for the difference of centuries and race and education, points\nby which the Greek and the English poets meet in a community of nature.\nTwo more passages illustrative of the poetical genius of Empedocles may\nbe quoted. In the first he describes the nature of God, invisible and\nomnipresent. In the second he asserts the existence of a universal law.\nThey are both remarkable for simplicity and force, and elevation of\nstyle:\n\n    \"Blessed is the man who hath obtained the riches of the wisdom\n    of God; wretched is he who hath a false opinion about things\n    divine.\n\n    \"He (God) may not be approached, nor can we reach him with our\n    eyes or touch him with our hands. No human head is placed upon\n    his limbs, nor branching arms; he has no feet to carry him\n    apace, nor other parts of man; but he is all pure mind, holy,\n    and infinite, darting with swift thought through the universe\n    from end to end.\"\n\n    \"This law binds all alike, and none are free from it: the\n    common ordinance which all obey prevails through the vast\n    spaces of wide-ruling air and the illimitable fields of light\n    in endless continuity.\"\n\nThe quotations which have served to illustrate the poetical genius\nof Empedocles have also exhibited one aspect of his philosophy--that\nwherein he was connected with the Pythagoreans. It is quite consistent\nwith the whole temper of his intellect that he should have been\nattracted to the semi-Oriental mysticism which then was widely spread\nthrough Grecian Italy and Sicily. After the dissolution of the monastic\ncommonwealth founded by Pythagoras, it is probable that refugees\nimbued with his social and political theories scattered themselves\nover the adjacent cities, and from some of these men Empedocles may\nhave imbibed in early youth the dream-like doctrines of an antenatal\nlife, of future immortality, of past transgression and the need of\nexpiation, of abstinence, and of the bond of fellowship which bound man\nto his kindred sufferers upon the earth. It is even asserted in one\nlegend that the philosopher of Agrigentum belonged to the Pythagorean\nSociety, and was expelled from it for having been the first to divulge\nits secrets. In later life these theories were developed by Empedocles\nafter his own fashion, and received a peculiar glow of poetic coloring\nfrom his genius. There is no need to suppose that he visited the East\nand learned the secrets of Gymnosophists. A few Pythagorean seeds sown\nin his fruitful soil sprang up and bore a hundred-fold. Referring\nto the exordium of his poem on Nature, and to the lines in which he\ndescribes the unapproachable Deity, we find that Empedocles believed\nin a pristine state of happiness, when the \"D\u00e6mons,\" or \"gods, long of\nlife, supreme in honor,\" dwelt together, enjoying a society of bliss.\nYet this state was not perfect, for some of these immortals stained\ntheir hands with blood, and some spoke perjury, and so sin entered\nin and tainted heaven. After such offence the erring spirit, by the\nfateful, irrevocable, and perennial law of the divine commonwealth,\nhad to relinquish his heavenly throne and wander \"thirty thousand\nseasons\" apart from his comrades. In this period of exile he passed\nthrough all the changes of metempsychosis. According to the rigorous\nand gloomy conception of Empedocles, this change was caused by the\nhatred of the elements: earth, air, fire, and water refusing to retain\nthe criminal, and tossing him about from one to the other without\nintermission. Thus, he might be a plant, a bird, a fish, a beast, or\na human being in succession. But the transmigration did not depend\nupon mere chance. If the tortured spirit, environed, as he was, by the\nconflicting shapes and contradictory principles and baleful destinies\nwhich crowded earth--\"the over-vaulted cave,\" the \"gloomy meadow of\ndiscord,\" as Empedocles in his despair described our globe--could yet\ndiscover some faint glimmering of the truth, seize and hold fast some\nportion of the heavenly clue, then he might hope to reascend to bliss.\nInstead of abiding among birds and unclean beasts and common plants,\nhis soul passed into the bodies of noble lions and mystic bay-trees,\nor became a bard, a prophet, a ruler among men, and lastly rose again\nto the enjoyment of undying bliss. Throughout these wanderings death\nwas impossible. Empedocles laughed at the notion of birth and death;\nhe seems to have believed in a fixed number of immortal souls, capable\nof any transformation, but incapable of perishing. Therefore, when\nhis spirits, falling earthward, howled at the doleful aspect of the\nhideous land, the very poignancy of their grief consisted in that\nbitter thought of Dante's, \"questi non hanno speranza di morte\"--in\nthat thought which makes the Buddhist welcome annihilation. It has\nbeen already hinted, that although the soul by its forced exile lost\nnot only happiness but also knowledge, yet the one might be in part\nretrieved, and the other toilsomely built up again in some degree by\npatient observation, prayer, and magic rites. On this point hinges\nthe philosophy of Empedocles. It is here that his mysticism and his\nscience are united into one system. In like manner, Plato's philosophy\nrests upon the doctrine of Anamnesis, and is connected with the vision\nof a past beatitude, the tradition of a miserable fall, and the\nprospect of a possible restoration. Empedocles, like Parmenides and\nXenophanes in their disquisitions on the eternal Being, like Plato in\nhis references to the Supreme Idea, seems to have imagined that the\nfinal Essence of the universe was unapproachable, and to have drawn a\nbroad distinction between the rational and sensual orders, between the\nworld as cognizable by pure intellect, and the world as known through\nthe medium of human sense. The lines of Empedocles upon God, which\nhave been already quoted, are similar to those of Xenophanes: both\nphilosophers assert the existence of an unknown Deity pavilioned in\ndense inscrutability, yet not the less to be regarded as supreme and\nomnipresent and omnipotent--as God of gods, as life of life. How to\nconnect this intuition with the physical speculations of Empedocles\nis difficult. The best way seems to be to refrain from identifying\nhis eloquent description of the unknown God with the Sph\u00e6rus of his\nscientific theories, and to believe that he regarded the same universe\nfrom different points of view at different times, as if in moments\nof high exaltation he obtained a glimpse of the illimitable Being by\na process of ecstatic illumination, while in more ordinary hours of\nmeditation his understanding and his senses helped him to obtain a\nknowledge of the actual phenomena of this terrestrial globe. His own\nlanguage confirms this view of the case:\n\n    \"Weak and narrow,\" he says, \"are the powers implanted in the\n    limbs of men; many the woes that fall on them and blunt the\n    edge of thought; short is the measure of the life in death\n    through which they toil; then are they borne away, like smoke\n    they vanish into air, and what they dream they know is but the\n    little each hath stumbled on in wandering about the world; yet\n    boast they all that they have learned the whole--vain fools!\n    for what _that_ is, no eye hath seen, no ear hath heard, nor\n    can it be conceived by mind of man. Thou, then, since thou hast\n    fallen to this place, shalt know no more than human wisdom may\n    attain.\n\n    \"But, O ye gods, avert the madness of those babblers from my\n    tongue, and cause the stream of holy words to issue from my\n    hallowed lips. And thou, great Muse of Memory, maiden with\n    the milk-white arms, I pray to thee to teach me things that\n    creatures of a day may hear. Come from the House of Holiness,\n    and bring to me her harnessed car.\"\n\nHere we see plainly set forth the impossibility of mortal, fallen\nintellects attaining to a perfect knowledge of the Universe, the\nimpiety of seeking such knowledge, or pretending to have found it; and,\nat the same time, the limitations under which true science remains\nwithin the reach of human beings. How this science may be reached,\nhe tells us in some memorable lines, probably supposed to issue from\nthe lips of the Muse whom he invokes: \"But come, search diligently,\nand discover what is clear in every realm of sense, ... check the\nconviction of thy senses, and judge by reason what is evident in every\ncase.\"\n\nThus the senses, although feeble and erring guides, are, after all,\nthe gates to knowledge; and their reports, when tested by the light of\nreason, form the data for human speculation. The senses, resident in\nthe limbs, are composed in certain proportions of the four elements,\nwhich also constitute the earth. Therefore, between the frame of man\nand the world outside him, there is a community of substance, whereby\nhe is enabled to know. #Homoia homoiois gign\u00f4sketai# (likes are known\nby likes) is the foundation of our philosopher's theory of knowledge.\nThe rational soul, being that immortal part of man whereon depends\nhis personal identity, whether he take the shape of plant or animal,\nreceives and judges the results of sensation. This theory, it will\nbe observed, has a kind of general similarity to that of Parmenides.\nEmpedocles draws a marked difference between the province of the\nsenses and of the reason, and inveighs against the impotence of the\nformer. Again, he speaks of the real being of the world as pure and\nperfect intellect; and at the same time elaborately describes the\nuniverse as it appears to human sense and understanding. But here\nthe likeness ends. Parmenides has no mysticism, and indulges in no\ntheology. He believes in the actual truth of his rational ontology,\nand sneers at the senses. \"Thy fate it is,\" he says, \"all mysteries\nto learn, both the unswerving mind of truth that wins a sure assent,\nand the vain thoughts of men, in which no certainty abides. But,\nbaseless as they are, these also shalt thou learn; since thou must\ntraverse every field of knowledge, and discern the fabric of the\ndreams of men.\" His ontology is just as elaborate as his physics, and\nhe evidently considers its barren propositions of more value than any\nobservations on astronomy or physiology. Empedocles, on the other\nhand, despaired of ontology, and gave all his mind to explanations of\nthe physical universe--how it came to be, and what laws governed its\nalternations--believing all along that there was a higher region of\npure intellect beyond the reach of his degraded soul. \"Here we see in\na glass darkly, but then face to face.\" In this respect he resembled\nXenophanes more than Parmenides. Xenophanes had said, \"No man hath\nbeen, nor will ever be, who knows for certain all about the gods, and\neverything of which I speak; for should one publish the most sure and\nsettled truth, yet even he cannot be said to _know_: opinion is supreme\nin all things.\" Empedocles belonged more to the age behind him than to\nthat which followed; and his extensive knowledge of nature was a part\nof his artistic rather than his scientific temperament.\n\nYet, allowing for the march of human progress during twenty-three\ncenturies, we are bound to hold much the same language as Empedocles\nregarding the limitations of knowledge. We have, indeed, infinitely\nextended our observation of phenomena; we have gained fuller\nconceptions of the Deity and of the destinies of man. But the plummet\nwhich he threw into the bottomless abyss of science has as yet found\nno bottom, and the circle which it made by striking on the surface\nof the illimitable ocean has grown and grown, but yet has touched\nno shore on any side. Like him, we still speak of an unapproachable\nGod, utterly beyond the reach of human sense and intellect; like him,\nwe still content ourselves with receiving the reports of our senses,\ncomparing and combining them by means of our understanding, and thus\nobtaining some conception of the universe in which we live. If we\nreject the light of Christianity, the guesses which we form about a\nfuture world are less vague than those of Empedocles, but founded on\nno surer scientific basis; the God we worship still remains enveloped\nin symbols; we still ascribe to him, if not a human form, at least\nthe reason, partialities, and passions of mankind. Indeed, in this\nrespect, the sage of Agrigentum stood unconsciously upon the platform\nwhich only our profoundest thinkers have attained. He felt the awe\nof the Unseen--he believed in the infinite Being; but he refused\nto dogmatize about his attributes, confining his own reason to the\nphenomenal universe which he strove in every way to understand, and to\nemploy for the good of his race. Empedocles was greater than most of\nhis contemporaries, for he neither believed it possible to explain the\nwhole mystery of the world, nor did he yet reject the notion of there\nbeing a profound mystery. He steered clear between the Parmenides and\nDemocritus of his own day--between the Spinoza and the materialist\nof modern speculation. Herein the union of philosophy and poetry, of\nthought and feeling, in his nature, gave the tone to all his theories.\nWe must not, however, in our praise forget that all these problems\nappeared in a far more simple form to the Greeks of that age than\nto ourselves, and were therefore more hastily and lightly answered.\nBetween the ontology of Parmenides and that of Hegel what a step there\nis! What meagre associations gather round the one; what many-sided\nknowledge gives substance to the other!\n\nRemembering, therefore, in what light Empedocles regarded his own\nphysical speculations, we may proceed to discuss them more in detail.\nWe shall find that he deserved a large portion of that praise which\nBacon rather whimsically lavished on the pre-Socratic philosophers, to\nthe disadvantage of the mightier names of Plato and Aristotle.\n\nThe poem on Nature is addressed to Pausanias the physician, who was\na son of Anchitus of Agrigentum, and a special friend of Empedocles.\nTo Pausanias the philosopher begins his instruction with these words:\n\"First learn what are the four chief roots of everything that is: fiery\nZeus, and Her\u00e8, source of vital breath, and Aidoneus, and Nestis with\nher tears, who is the fount of moisture in the world.\" Thus Empedocles,\nafter the fashion of the Pythagoreans, allegorized his four elements.\nIn other passages he calls them \"fire, water, earth, and air's\nimmeasurable height;\" or, \"earth, and ocean with his countless waves,\nand liquid air, the sun-god, and ether girdling the universe in its\nembrace;\" or again, \"Heph\u00e6stus, rain, and radiant ether;\" or lastly,\n\"light, earth, heaven, and ocean.\" It will be seen that he designated\nhis elements sometimes by mythological titles, sometimes by abstract\nterms, and sometimes by selecting one or other natural object--such\nas the sun, the air, the ocean--in which they were most manifest. It\nis well known that Empedocles was the first philosopher to adopt the\nfour elements, which, since his day, continued to rule supreme over\nnatural science, until modern analysis revealed far simpler and broader\nbases. Other speculators of the Ionian sect had maintained each of\nthese four elements--Thales the water, Anaximenes the air, Heraclitus\nthe fire, and perhaps (but this rests on no sure evidence), Pherecydes\nthe earth. Xenophanes had said, \"Of earth and water are all things\nthat come into existence.\" Parmenides had spoken of dark and light,\nthick and subtile, substances. Each of these fundamental principles is\nprobably to be regarded not as pure fire, or pure water, or pure air,\nbut as a universal element differing in rarity, and typified according\nto the analogical necessities of language, by means of some familiar\nobject. The four elements of Empedocles appear to have been suggested\nto him, partly by his familiarity with contemporary speculation, and\npartly by his observation of Nature. They held their ground so long in\nscientific theory, because they answered so exactly to a superficial\nview of the world. Earth with everything of a solid quality, water\nincluding every kind of fluid, fire that burns or emits light, air that\ncan be breathed, appear to constitute an exhaustive division of the\nuniverse. Of the eternity of these four primal substances, according to\nthe Empedoclean theory, there is no doubt. The philosopher frequently\nreiterates his belief in the impossibility of an absolute beginning\nor ending, though he acquiesces in the popular use of these terms to\nexpress the scientific conceptions of dissolution and recombination.\n\nThese elements, then, were the material part of the world according\nto Empedocles. But inherent in them, as a tendency is inherent in\nan organism, and yet separable in thought from them, as the soul is\nseparable from the body, were two conflicting principles of equal\npower, love and discord. Love and discord by their operation wrought\ninfinite changes in the universe: for it was the purpose of love to\nbind the elements together into a compact, smooth, motionless globe;\nand of discord to separate them one from another, and to keep them\ndistinct in a state of mutual hostility. When, therefore, either love\nor discord got the upper-hand, the phenomenal universe could not be\nsaid to exist, but in the intermediate state was a perpetual order\nof growth and decay, composition and dissolution, whereby the world,\nas we behold it, came into existence. This intermediate state, _das\nWerdende_, #to gignomenon kai apollymenon# (the Becoming, that which\ncomes into existence and passes out of it again by dissolution), was\n#physis#, or Nature. The conflicting energies of love and discord\nformed the pulses of its mighty heart, the systole and diastole of its\nbeing, the one power tending to life, the other power to death, the one\npushing all the elements forward to a perfect unity of composition,\nthe other rending them apart. To the universe when governed by love\nin supremacy Empedocles gave the name of #sphairos# (perfect globe),\nwhich he also called a god. This #sphairos# answered to the Eleatic\n#hen#, while the disjointed elements subservient to the force of strife\ncorresponded to the Eleatic #polla#. Thus the old Greek antagonism of\nGood and Evil, One and Many, Love and Hatred, Being and Not-being, were\ninterpreted by Empedocles. He looked on all that is, _das Werdende_, as\ntransitory between two opposite and contradictory existences.\n\nAgain, according to his system, the alternate reigns of love and\ndiscord succeeded one another at fixed intervals of time; so that,\nfrom one point of view, the world was ceaselessly shifting, and from\nanother point of view, was governed by eternal and unalterable Law.\nThus he reconciled the Heraclitean flux and the Parmenidean immobility\nby a middle term. Each of the elements possessed a separate province,\nhad separate functions, and was capable of standing by itself. To fire\nit would seem that the philosopher assigned a more active influence\nthan to any of the other elements; therefore a kind of dualism may\nbe recognized in his Universe between this ruling principle and the\nmore passive ingredients of air, earth, and water. The influence of\nlove and harmony kept them joined and interpenetrated, and so mingled\nas to bring the different objects which we see around us into being.\nEmpedocles professed to understand the proportions of these mixtures,\nand measured them by Pythagorean rules of arithmetic. Thus everything\nsubsists by means of transformation and mixture; absolute beginning and\nending are impossible.\n\nSuch, briefly stated, is the theory of Empedocles. The following\npassage may be quoted to show how the phenomenal Universe comes into\nbeing under the influence of love:\n\n    \"When strife has reached the very bottom of the seething mass,\n    and love assumes her station in the centre of the ball, then\n    everything begins to come together, and to form one whole--not\n    instantaneously, but different substances come forth, according\n    to a steady process of development. Now, when these elements\n    are mingling, countless kinds of things issue from their union.\n    Much, however, remains unmixed, in opposition to the mingling\n    elements, and these malignant strife still holds within his\n    grasp. For he has not yet withdrawn himself altogether to the\n    extremities of the globe; but part of his limbs still remain\n    within its bounds, and part have passed beyond. As strife,\n    however, step by step, retreats, mild and innocent love pursues\n    him with her force divine; things which had been immortal\n    instantly assume mortality; the simple elements become confused\n    by interchange of influence. When these are mingled, then the\n    countless kinds of mortal beings issue forth, furnished with\n    every sort of form--a sight of wonder.\"\n\nIn another passage this development is compared to the operation\nof a painter mixing his colors, and forming with them a picture of\nvarious objects. Discord is said to have made the elements immortal,\nbecause he kept them apart, and would willingly have preserved their\nseparate qualities; whereas love mixes them together, breaks up\ntheir continuity, and confuses their kinds. What Empedocles exactly\nmeant by Sph\u00e6ris is hard to understand; nor do we know how far he\nintended Chance to operate in the formation of the Universe. He often\nuses such expressions as these, \"So they chanced to come together,\"\nand describes the amorphous condition of the first organisms in a\nway that makes one think he fancied a perfectly chaotic origin.\nYet \"the art of Aphrodite,\" \"so Cypris ordained their form,\" are\nassertions of designing intelligence. In fact, we may well believe\nthat Empedocles, in the infancy of speculation, was led astray by his\ndouble nomenclature. When talking of Aphrodite, he naturally thought\nof a person ruling creation; when using the term \"Love,\" he naturally\nconceived an innate tendency, which might have been the sport of chance\nin a great measure. It also appears probable that, when Empedocles\nspoke of \"Chance\" and \"Necessity,\" he referred to some inherent quality\nin the elements themselves, whereby they grew together under certain\nlaws, and that the harmony and discord which ruled them in turn were\nregarded by him as forces aiding and preventing their union.\n\nTo understand the order of creation, we may begin by imagining the\nsphere, which, in the words of Empedocles, \"by the hidden bond of\nharmony is stablished, and rejoices in unbroken rest ... in perfect\nequipoise, of infinite extent, it stays a full-orbed sphere rejoicing\nin unbroken rest.\" Love now is omnipotent; she has knit all the\nelements into one whole; Discord has retreated, and abides beyond the\nglobe. But soon his turn begins: he enters the sphere, and \"all the\nlimbs of the god begin to tremble.\" Now the elements are divided one\nfrom the other--ether first, then fire, then earth, then water from\nthe earth. Still the elements are chaotic; but wandering about the\nspaces of the world, and \"permeating each the other's realm,\" they form\nalliances and tend to union. Love is busy no less than Discord. The\nvarious tribes of plants and animals appear at first in a rudimentary\nand monstrous condition: \"many heads sprouted up without necks, and\nnaked arms went wandering forlorn of shoulders, and solitary eyes\nwere straying destitute of foreheads.\" Still the process of seething\nand intermingling continued; \"when element with element more fully\nmixed, these members fell together by hap-hazard ... many came forth\nwith double faces and two breasts, some shaped like oxen with a human\nfront, others, again, of human race with a bull's head; and some were\nmixed of male and female parts.\" Unfortunately, the lines in which\nhe describes the further progress of development have been lost, and\nwe do not know how the interval between chaos and order was bridged\nover in his system. Only with reference to human beings he asserts\nthat in the earliest stage they were produced in amorphous masses,\ncontaining the essence, as it were, of both male and female; and that\nafter the separation of these masses into two parts, each part yearned\nto join its tally. And therefrom sprang the passion of desire in human\nhearts. This theory has been worked out by Plato artistically in the\n_Symposium_. Also with reference to the accretion of the phenomenal\nuniverse, he says that earth formed the basis of all hard and solid\nsubstances preponderating in the shells of fish, and so on. Bones were\nwrought of earth and fire and water, \"marvellously jointed by the\nbonds of Harmony.\" It is needless to follow Empedocles through all\nhis scattered fancies, to show that he knew that the night was caused\nby the earth intercepting the sun's rays, or that he thought the sun\nreflected heaven's fire like a mirror, or that he placed the intellect\nin the blood, and explained respiration by a theory of pores, and the\neyesight by imagining a fire shut up within the pupil. The fragments we\npossess are too scanty to allow of our obtaining a perfect view of his\nphysical theory; all we gather from them is that Empedocles possessed\nmore acquired and original knowledge than any of his contemporaries.\n\nIt may appear from what has been said about his system that Empedocles\nwas at best a great eclectic. But this is not entirely the case. If\nhe deserves the name of eclectic, he deserves it in the same sense\nas Plato, though it need not be said how infinitely inferior, as an\noriginal thinker, he is to Plato. Empedocles was deeply versed in all\nthe theories, metaphysical, cosmogonical, mystical, and physiological,\nof his age. He viewed from a high station all the problems,\nintellectual, social, and moral, which then vexed Greece. But he did\nnot pass his days in a study or a lecture-room, nor did he content\nhimself with expounding or developing the theories of any one master.\nHe went abroad, examined nature for himself, cured the sick, thought\nhis own thoughts, and left an impress on the constitution of his native\nstate. In his comprehensive mind all the learning he had acquired from\nmen, from books, from the world, and from reflection, was consolidated\ninto one system, to which his double interest for mysticism and\nphysics gave a double aspect. He was the first in Greece to reconcile\nEleatic and Heraclitean speculations, the puzzle of plurality and\nunity, the antagonism of good and evil, in one theory, and to connect\nit with another which revealed a solemn view of human obligations and\ndestinies, and required a life of social purity and self-restraint. The\nmisfortune of Empedocles as a philosopher consisted in this--that he\nsucceeded only in resuming the results of contemporary speculation, and\nof individual research, in a philosophy of indisputable originality,\nwithout anticipating the new direction which was about to be given to\nhuman thought by Socrates and Plato. He closed one period--the period\nof poetry and physical theories and mysticism. The period of prose,\nof logic, and of ethics was about to begin. He was the last of the\ngreat colonial sages of Greece. The Hellenic intellect was destined\nhenceforth to centre itself at Athens.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[47] Between Homer and Empedocles there is nothing in common except\ntheir metre: therefore it is right to call the former a poet, the\nlatter a natural philosopher rather than a poet.\n\n[48] Empedocles again was Homeric in style, and clever in his use of\nphrase, for he inclined to metaphor, and employed the other admirable\ninstruments of the poetic art.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n_THE GNOMIC POETS._\n\n    Definition of the Term Gnomic.--The Elegiac Metre.--The\n        Age of the Despots in Greece.--Three Periods in\n        Elegiac Poetry: the Martial, the Erotic, the\n        Gnomic.--Callinus.--Tyrt\u00e6us.--Mimnermus.--His\n        Epicurean Philosophy of Life.--Solon.--The\n        Salaminian Verses.--Doctrine of Hereditary\n        Guilt.--Greek Melancholy.--Phocylides.--His Bourgeois\n        Intellect.--Xenophanes.--Theognis.--The Politics\n        of Megara.--Cyrnus.--Precepts upon Education and\n        Conduct in Public and Private Life.--The Biography of\n        Theognis.--Dorian Clubs.--Lamentations over the Decay of\n        Youth and Beauty.\n\n\nThe term Gnomic, when applied to a certain number of Greek poets,\nis arbitrary. There is no definite principle for rejecting some and\nincluding others in the class. It has, however, been usual to apply\nthis name to Solon, Phocylides, Theognis, and Simonides of Ceos. Yet\nthere seems no reason to exclude some portions of Callinus, Tyrt\u00e6us,\nMimnermus, and Xenophanes. These poets, it will be observed, are\nall writers of the elegy. Some of the lyric poets, however, and\niambographers, such as Simonides of Amorgos and Archilochus, have\nstrong claims for admission into the list. For, as the derivation of\nthe name implies, gnomic poets are simply those who embody #gn\u00f4mai#,\nor sententious maxims on life and morals, in their verse; and though\nwe find that the most celebrated masters of this style composed\nelegies, we yet may trace the thread of gnomic thought in almost all\nthe writers of their time. Conversely, the most genuine authors of\nelegiac gnomes trespassed upon the domain of lyric poetry, and sang\nof love and wine and personal experience no less than of morality. In\nfact, the gnomic poets represent a period of Greek literature during\nwhich the old and simple forms of narrative poetry were giving way to\nlyrical composition on the one hand, and to meditative writing on the\nother; when the epical impulse had become extinct, and when the Greeks\nwere beginning to think definitely. The elegy, which seems to have\noriginated in Asia Minor, and to have been used almost exclusively by\npoets of the Ionian race for the expression of emotional and reflective\nsentiments, lent itself to this movement in the development of the\nGreek genius, and formed a sort of midway stage between the impassioned\nepic of the Homeric age and the no less impassioned poetry and prose of\nthe Athenian age of gold.\n\nViewed in this light, the gnomic poets mark a transition from Homer and\nHesiod to the dramatists and moralists of Attica. The ethical precepts\ninherent in the epos received from them a more direct and proverbial\ntreatment; while they in turn prepared for the sophists, the orators,\nand Socrates.\n\nThis transitional period in the history of Greek literature,\ncorresponding, as it does, to similar transitions in politics,\nreligion, and morality, offers many points of interest. Before Homer,\npoetry had no historical past; but after the age of the epic, a long\ntime elapsed before the vehicle of verse was exchanged for that of\nprose. Xenophanes, Parmenides, and Empedocles wrote poems upon nature\nin hexameters. Solon and Theognis committed their state-craft and\nethics to elegiac couplets. Yet at the same time Heraclitus and the\nseven sages were developing the germs of prose, and preparing the way\nfor Attic historians and philosophers.\n\nAgain, whereas Homer introduces us to a Hellas small in its extent, and\nscarcely separated from surrounding tribes, we find in the transitional\nperiod that the strength and splendor of the Greek race are dissipated\nover distant colonies, Hellenic civilization standing out in definite\nrelief against adjacent barbarism. The first lyrical and elegiac poets\ncome from the islands of the Archipelago, or from the shores of Asia\nMinor. The first dramatists of note are Sicilian. Italy and Sicily\nafford a home to the metaphysical poets, while the philosophers of the\nIonian sect flourish at Ephesus and Miletus.\n\nCorresponding to this change in the distribution of the race, a change\nwas taking place in the governments of the states. The hereditary\nmonarchies of Homer's age have disappeared, and, after passing through\na period of oligarchical supremacy, have given place to tyrannies.\nThe tyrants of Miletus and of Agrigentum, rising from the aristocracy\nitself; those of Corinth, Athens, and Megara, owing their power to\npopular favor; others, like Cylon, flourishing awhile by force of mere\naudacity and skill; others, again, like Pittacus of Mitylene, using\nthe rights of their dictatorship for the public benefit, had this one\npoint in common--it was the interest of all of them to destroy the\ntraditional prejudices of the race, to gather a powerful and splendid\ncourt around them, to patronize art, to cultivate diplomacy, and to\nattach men of ability to their persons. As the barons of feudalism\nencouraged the romances of the Niebelungen, Carlovingian, and Arthurian\ncycles, so the hereditary monarchies had caused the cyclical epos\nto flourish. It was not for the interest of the tyrants to revive\nHomeric legends, but rather to banish from the State all traces of the\nchivalrous past. With this view Cleisthenes of Sicyon put down the\nworship of Adrastus, and parodied the heroic names of the three tribes.\nPoetry, thus separated from the fabulous past, sought its subjects\nin the present--in personal experience, in pleasure, in politics, in\nquestions of diplomacy, in epigrammatic morality.\n\nSuch, then, was the period during which the gnomic poets flourished--a\nperiod of courts and tyrannies, of colonial prosperity, of political\nanimation, of social intrigue, of intellectual development, of\nreligious transformation, of change and uncertainty in every\ndepartment. Behind them lay primitive Homeric Hellas; before them,\nat no great distance, was the time when the Greek genius would find\nits home in Athens. Poetry and science were then to be distinguished;\nthe philosophers, historians, and orators were to make a subtle and\nsplendid instrument of Greek prose; the dramatists were to develop\nthe choric and dialectic beauty of the Greek language to its highest\npossible perfection; tyrannies were to be abolished, and the political\nenergies of Hellas to be absorbed in the one great struggle between\nthe Dorian and Ionian families. But in the age of gnomic poetry these\nchanges were still future; and though the mutations of Greek history\nwere accomplished with unparalleled rapidity, we yet may draw certain\nlines and say, Here was a breathing-time of indecision and suspense;\nthis period was the eve before a mighty revolution. I propose,\ntherefore, to consider the gnomic poets as the representatives, to some\nextent, of such an age, and as exponents of the rudimentary, social,\nand political philosophy of Greece before Socrates.\n\nThree periods may be marked in the development of the early Greek\nelegiac poetry--the Martial, the Erotic, and the Gnomic. Callinus and\nTyrt\u00e6us are the two great names by which the first is distinguished.\nMimnermus gave a new direction to this style of composition, fitting\nthe couplet, which had formerly been used for military and patriotic\npurposes, to amatory and convivial strains.[49] In after-years it never\nlost the impress of his genius; so that Ovid, Tibullus, and Propertius\nmay be regarded as the lineal descendants of the Colophonian bard.\nSolon at a later date applied the elegiac measure to severer subjects.\nHe was the first, perhaps, to use it for purely gnomic purposes,\nmaintaining, however, the martial spirit in his Salaminian verses,\nand imitating the example of Mimnermus in his lighter compositions.\nPhocylides, to judge by the scanty fragments which we possess of his\npoems, was almost wholly gnomic in his character. But Theognis, who is\nthe latest and most important of the elegiac writers of this period,\ncombined the political, didactic, and erotic qualities to a remarkable\ndegree. As a poet, Simonides was greater than any of those whom I have\nnamed; but his claims to rank among the sententious philosophers rest\nmore upon the fragments of his lyrics than upon the elegiac epitaphs\nfor which he was so justly famed.\n\nThese are the poets of whom I intend to speak in detail. Taken\ntogether with Homer and Hesiod, their works formed the body of a\nGreek youth's education at the time when Gorgias and Hippias were\nlecturing at Athens. From them the contemporaries of Pericles, when\nboys, had learned the rules of good society, of gentlemanly breeding,\nof practical morality, of worldly wisdom. Their saws and precepts were\non the lips of the learned and the vulgar; wise men used them as the\ntheses for subtle arguments or the texts for oratorical discourses.\nPublic speakers quoted them as Scripture might be quoted in a synod of\nthe clergy. They pointed remarks in after-dinner conversation or upon\nthe market-place. Polemarchus, for instance, in Plato's _Republic_,\nstarts the dialogue on Justice by a maxim of Simonides. Isocrates,\nthe Rhetor, alludes to them as being \"the best counsellors in respect\nof human affairs;\" and Xenophon terms the gnomes of Theognis \"a\ncomprehensive treatise concerning men.\" Having been used so commonly\nand largely by the instructors of youth, and by men of all conditions,\nit was natural that these elegies should be collected into one\ncompendious form, and that passages of a gnomic tendency should be\nextracted from larger poems on different subjects. In this way a body\nof sententious poetry grew up and received the traditional authority\nof Solon, Phocylides, Simonides, and Theognis. But in the process of\ncompilation confusion and mistakes of all kinds occurred, so that the\nsame couplets were often attributed to several authors. To bear this\nin mind at the outset is a matter of some moment; for at this distance\nof time it is no longer possible to decide the canon of the several\nelegists with accuracy. In dealing with them, we must, therefore, not\nforget that we are handling masses of heterogeneous materials roughly\nassigned to a few great names.\n\nThe earliest elegiac poet was Callinus, a native of Ephesus, between\nthe years 730 and 678 B.C. His poems consist almost exclusively of\nexhortations to bravery in battle. \"How long will ye lie idle?\" he\nexclaims; \"put on your valor; up to the fight, for war is in the land!\"\nHe discourses in a bold and manly strain upon the certainty of death,\nand the glory of facing it in defence of home and country, winding up\nwith this noble sentiment: \"The whole people mourns and sorrows for\nthe death of a brave-hearted man; and while he lives he is the peer of\ndemigods.\" The lines of Tyrt\u00e6us, whose prominent part during the second\nMessenian war is the subject of a well-known legend, embody the same\nmartial and patriotic sentiments in even more masculine verse.\n\nIt would be alien from my purpose to dwell long upon these military\npoems, since the only gnomic character which they display is the\nencouragement of a heightened honor, unselfishness, indifference to\ngain, devotion to the State, and love of public fame. Yet the moment\nin the history of Hellas represented by Tyrt\u00e6us, the leader whose\nvoice in the battle-field was like a clarion to his manly Spartans,\nand in the council-chamber was a whisper of Athene quelling strife, is\nso interesting that I cannot omit him in this place. \"Never,\" to use\nthe words of M\u00fcller, \"was the duty and the honor of bravery impressed\non the youth of a nation with so much beauty and force of language,\nby such natural and touching motives.\" If of a truth it be, as Milton\nsays, the function of the poet \"to inbreed and cherish in a great\npeople the seeds of virtue and public civility,\" then Tyrt\u00e6us, less\nby his specific maxims than by the spirit that his verses breathe,\ndeserves an honored place among the bards whom Aristotle would have\nclassed as #\u00eathik\u00f4tatoi#, most serviceable for the formation of a\nvirile and powerful temperament, most suited for the education of Greek\nyouth. The following translation stands as Thomas Campbell made it from\na martial elegy ascribed to the bard of Laced\u00e6mon:[50]\n\n    How glorious fall the valiant, sword in hand,\n    In front of battle for their native land!\n    But oh! what ills await the wretch that yields,\n    A recreant outcast from his country's fields!\n    The mother whom he loves shall quit her home,\n    An aged father at his side shall roam;\n    His little ones shall weeping with him go,\n    And a young wife participate his woe;\n    While scorned and scowled upon by every face,\n    They pine for food, and beg from place to place.\n\n    Stain of his breed! dishonoring manhood's form,\n    All ills shall cleave to him: affliction's storm\n    Shall blind him wandering in the vale of years,\n    Till, lost to all but ignominious fears,\n    He shall not blush to leave a recreant's name,\n    And children, like himself, inured to shame.\n\n    But we will combat for our fathers' land,\n    And we will drain the life-blood where we stand,\n    To save our children:--fight ye side by side,\n    And serried close, ye men of youthful pride,\n    Disdaining fear, and deeming light the cost\n    Of life itself in glorious battle lost.\n\n    Leave not our sires to stem the unequal fight,\n    Whose limbs are nerved no more with buoyant might;\n    Nor, lagging backward, let the younger breast\n    Permit the man of age (a sight unblest)\n    To welter in the combat's foremost thrust,\n    His hoary head dishevell'd in the dust,\n    And venerable bosom bleeding bare.\n    But youth's fair form, though fallen, is ever fair,\n    And beautiful in death the boy appears,\n    The hero boy, that dies in blooming years:\n    In man's regret he lives, and woman's tears;\n    More sacred than in life, and lovelier far,\n    For having perished in the front of war.[51]\n\nStrangely different are the elegies of Mimnermus, the poet of Colophon,\nwho flourished towards the end of the seventh century B.C.[52] His\nname has passed into a proverb for luxurious verse, saddened by\nreflections on the fleeting joys of youth, and on the sure and steady\nprogress of old age and death. Tyrt\u00e6us, though a native of Attica,\nwrote for Spartans at war with a strong nation; Mimnermus was born\nand lived among Ionian Greeks emasculated by barbarian control and\nby contact with the soft Lydians. It was of these Colophonians that\nXenophanes, a native poet, said, \"Instructed in vain luxury by the\nLydians, they trailed their robes of purple through the streets, with\nhaughty looks, proud of their flowing locks bedewed with curious\nessences and oils.\" For such a people the exquisitely soft and\nmusical verses of Mimnermus, pervaded by a tone of lingering regret,\nwere exactly suited. They breathe the air of sunny gardens and cool\nbanquet-rooms, in which we picture to ourselves the poet lingering out\na pensive life, endeavoring to crowd his hours with pleasures of all\nkinds, yet ever haunted and made fretful among his roses by the thought\nof wrinkles and death. \"When your youth is gone,\" he says, \"however\nbeautiful you may have been, you lose the reverence of your children\nand the regard of your friends.\" \"More hideous is old age than death.\nIt reduces the handsome and the plain man to one level--cares attend\nit--the senses and the intellects get deadened--a man is forgotten\nand put out of the way.\" The Greek sentiment of hatred for old age is\nwell expressed in one epithet which Mimnermus employs--#amorphon#,\n_formless_. The Greeks detested the ugliness and loss of grace which\ndeclining years bring with them almost more than weakened powers or\nthe approach of death. Nay, \"when the flower of youth is past,\" says\nMimnermus, \"it is best to die at once.\" Men are like herbs, which\nflourish for a while in sunshine--then comes the winter of old age,\nwith poverty or disease, or lack of children. His feeling for the\ncharm of youth was intense; he expressed it in language that reminds\nus of the fervency of Sappho: \"Down my flesh the sweat runs in rivers,\nand I tremble when I see the flower of my equals in age gladsome and\nbeautiful.\"\n\nThis tender and regretful strain is repeated by Mimnermus with a\nmonotonous, almost pathetic persistency, as if the one thought of\ninevitable age oppressed him like a nightmare day and night. His\ndelight in the goodliness of youth and manhood is so acute, and his\nenjoyment of existence is so exquisite, that he shrinks with loathing\nfrom the doom imposed on all things mortal to decline and wither. \"May\nI complete my life without disease or cares, and may death strike me\nat my sixtieth year!\" Such is the prayer he utters, feeling, probably,\nthat up to sixty the senses may still afford him some enjoyment, and\nthat, after they are blunted, there is nothing left for man worth\nliving for. In all this, Mimnermus was true to one type of the Greek\ncharacter. I shall have occasion farther on to revert to this subject,\nand to dwell again upon the fascination which the flower of youth\npossessed for the Greeks, and the horror with which the ugliness of\nage inspired them.[53] That some escaped this kind of despair, which\nto us appears unmanly, may be gathered from the beautiful discourse\nupon old age with which the _Republic_ of Plato opens. Mimnermus,\nhowever, belonged to a class of men different from Cephalus: nowhere in\nthe whole range of literature can be found a more perfect specimen of\nunmitigated _ennui_.[54] In his verse we trace the prostrate tone of\nthe Oriental, combined with Greek delicacy of intellect and artistic\nexpression. The following passage may be cited as at once illustrative\nof his peculiar lamentation, and also of his poetical merits:\n\n    What's life or pleasure wanting Aphrodite?\n      When to the gold-haired goddess cold am I,\n    When love and love's soft gifts no more delight me,\n      Nor stolen dalliance, then I fain would die!\n    Ah! fair and lovely bloom the flowers of youth;\n      On men and maids they beautifully smile:\n    But soon comes doleful eld, who, void of ruth,\n      Indifferently afflicts the fair and vile:\n    Then cares wear out the heart; old eyes forlorn\n      Scarce reck the very sunshine to behold--\n    Unloved by youths, of every maid the scorn--\n    So hard a lot God lays upon the old.[55]\n\nWe are not surprised to hear that the fragments of Mimnermus belonged\nto a series of elegies addressed to a flute-player called Nanno.[56]\nThey are worthy of such a subject. Nanno, according to one account, did\nnot return the passion of the poet.\n\nIn Mimnermus, however luxurious he may have been, we yet observe\na vein of meditation upon life and destiny which prepares us for\nthe more distinctly gnomic poets. Considered in the light of Greek\nphilosophy, Mimnermus anticipates the ethical teaching of the Hedonists\nand Epicureans. In other words, he represents a genuine view of life\nadopted by the Greeks. Horace refers to him as an authority in these\nwell-known lines:\n\n    Si, Mimnermus uti censet, sine amore jocisque\n    Nil est jucundum, vivas in amore jocisque;[57]\n\non which the scholiast observed that the elegiac poet \"agreed with the\nsect of the Epicureans.\"\n\nNext to Mimnermus in point of time is Solon. Perhaps the verses of this\ngreat man were among his least important productions. Yet their value,\nin illustrating the history of Athens, would have been inestimable,\nhad they been preserved to us in a more perfect state. \"There is\nhardly anything,\" says Grote, \"more to be deplored, amidst the lost\ntreasures of the Grecian mind, than the poems of Solon; for we see\nby the remaining fragments that they contained notices of the public\nand social phenomena before him, which he was compelled attentively\nto study, blended with the touching expression of his own personal\nfeelings, in the post, alike honorable and difficult, to which the\nconfidence of his countrymen had exalted him.\" The interest of Solon\nas a gnomic poet is derived chiefly from the fact that he was reckoned\none of the seven wise men of Greece, that he was one of the two most\ndistinguished Nomothet\u00e6 of Hellas, that he is said to have conversed\nfamiliarly with the great Lydian monarch, and that he endeavored at\nAthens to resist the growing tyranny of Pisistratus. Thus Solon bore\na prominent part in all the most important affairs of the period to\nwhich the gnomic poetry belongs. Its politics, diplomacy, and social\ntheories, its constitutional systems and philosophy, were perfectly\nfamiliar to him, and received a strong impress from his vigorous mind.\nIt is thought that his poems belong to an early period of his life; yet\nthey embody the same sentiments as those which Herodotus refers to his\nold age, and express in the looser form of elegiac verse the gist of\napothegms ascribed to him as one of the seven sages.\n\nLiterature and politics were cultivated together at this period among\nthe Greeks; philosophy was gained in actual life and by commerce with\nmen of all descriptions. The part which Tyrt\u00e6us, Alc\u00e6us, Pythagoras,\nParmenides, Empedocles, and Archilochus played in the history of their\nstates need not be more than alluded to. Simonides of Amorgos founded a\ncolony; Theognis represented a large and important party. But Solon, in\na truer sense than any of these men, combined decisive action in public\nlife with letters. Nor is it, perhaps, necessary to agree with Grote in\ndepreciating the poetical value of his verses. Some of them are very\nfine and forcible. The description, for example, of the storm which\nsweeps away the clouds, and leaves a sunny sky (Frag. 13, ed. Bergk),\nis full of noble imagery.\n\nThe first three fragments of Solon's elegies form part of the ode\nrecited by him in the market-place of Athens, when he braved the\npenalty of death, and urged his fellow-citizens \"to rise and fight for\nthe sweet isle of Salamis.\" These lines are followed by a considerable\nfragment of great importance, describing the misery of ill-governed and\nseditious Athens. Among the sayings attributed to Solon (Diog. Laer.,\ni. 63) is one that gives the keynote to this poem. When asked what made\nan orderly and well-constituted state, he answered, \"When the people\nobey the rulers, and the rulers obey the laws.\" The paraphrase which\nI subjoin exhibits in strong contrast the difference between Dysnomia\nand Eunomia, as conceived by the Athenian lawgiver. Demosthenes, who\nused the name of Solon on all occasions with imposing rhetorical\neffect, quotes these lines in a celebrated passage of the speech _De\nFals. Leg._, 254: \"The citizens seek to overthrow the state by love\nof money, by following indulgent and self-seeking demagogues, who\nneglect religion and pervert the riches of the temples. Yet justice,\nsilent but all-seeing, will in time bring vengeance on them for these\nthings. War, want, civil discord, slavery, are at our gates; and all\nthese evils threaten Athens because of her lawlessness. Whereas good\nlaws and government set all the state in order, chain the hands of\nevil-doers, make rough places plain, subdue insolence, and blast the\nbudding flowers of At\u00e9, set straight the crooked ways of tortuous law,\nroot out sedition, quell the rage of strife; under their good influence\nall things are fair and wise with men.\" Thus early and emphatically\nwas the notion of just balance enunciated among the Greeks. It formed\nthe ruling principle of their philosophy as well as of their politics;\nfor the #m\u00eaden agan# (nothing overmuch) of Solon corresponded to the\n#metron# (measure) of the Ionic speculators, and contained within\nitself the germ of Aristotle's ethical system, no less than of the\npolitical philosophy of Plato's _Republic_.\n\nIn the fifth and sixth fragments Solon describes the amount of power\nhe would wish to see intrusted to the Athenian Demus; in the ninth, he\nprophesies the advent of a despot: \"From storm-clouds descend furious\nsnow and hail, and thunder is born of bright lightning; so great men\nproduce the overthrow of states, and into the bondage of a despot's\npower the people fall unwittingly. Easy it is to raise the storm, but\nhard to curb the whirlwind; yet must we now take thought of all these\nthings.\" Fragment the second contains a farther warning on the subject\nof impending tyranny. The power of Pisistratus was growing to a head,\nand Solon told the Athenians that if he proved despotic, they would\nhave no one but themselves to blame for it.\n\nThe remaining fragments of Solonian poetry are more purely meditative.\n\"Bright daughters of Memory and Olympian Zeus,\" he begins, \"Pierian\nMuses! hear my prayer. Grant me wealth from the blessed gods, and from\nall men a good name. May I be sweet to my friend and bitter to my foe;\nrevered by the one and dreaded by the other. Money I desire, but no\nill-gotten gain: for the wealth that the gods give lasts, and fleets\nnot away; but the fruits of insolence and crime bring vengeance--sure,\nthough slow. Zeus seeth all things, and like a wind scattering the\nclouds, which shakes the deep places of the sea and rages over the\ncorn-land, and comes at last to heaven, the seat of gods, and makes a\nclear sky to be seen, whereupon the sun breaks out in glory, and the\nclouds are gone--so is the vengeance of Zeus. He may seem to forget,\nbut sooner or later he strikes; perchance the guilty man escapes,\nyet his blameless children or remote posterity pay the penalty.\" Two\npoints are noticeable in this passage--first, the dread of ill-gotten\ngain; and secondly, the conception of implacable justice. There was\nnothing which the Greeks more dreaded and detested than wealth procured\nby fraud. They were so sensitive upon this point that even Plato and\nAristotle regarded usury as criminal, unnatural, and sure to bring\ncalamity upon the money-lender. Thus Chilon, the Laced\u00e6monian sage,\nis reported to have said, \"Choose loss rather than dishonorable gain;\nfor the one will hurt you for the moment, the other will never cease\nto be a curse.\" There are few of the seven sages who have not at least\none maxim bearing on this point. It would seem as if the conscience of\nhumanity were touched at a very early period by superstitious scruples\nof this kind. The Jewish law contains warnings similar to those of\nSolon; and among our own people it has been commonly believed that\nwealth unlawfully acquired, money taken from the devil, or property\nwrested from the Church, is disastrous to its owner, and incapable of\nbeing long retained in the possession of his family. Theognis expresses\nnearly the same sentiments as Solon in the following verses: \"He who\ngets wealth from Zeus by just means, and with hands unstained, will\nnot lose it; but if he acquire it wrongfully, covetously, or by false\nswearing, though it may seem at first to bring him gain, at last it\nturns to calamity, and the mind of Heaven prevails. But these things\ndeceive men, for the blessed gods do not always take vengeance on crime\nat the moment of its being committed; but one man in his person pays\nfor a bad deed, another leaves disaster hanging over his own children,\na third avoids justice by death.\"\n\nBoth Solon and Theognis, it will be observed, express emphatically\ntheir belief in a vengeance of Heaven falling upon the children, and\nthe children's children, of offenders. This conception of doom received\nits most splendid illustration at the hands of the tragic poets, and\nled philosophers like Empedocles to devise systems of expiation and\npurification, by means of which ancestral guilt might be purged away,\nand the soul be restored to its pristine blamelessness. Theognis\nin another fragment (731-752) discusses the doctrine, and calls in\nquestion its justice. He takes it for granted, as a thing too obvious\nto be disputed, that children suffer for their father's sin, and argues\nwith Zeus about the abstract right and policy of this law, suggesting\nthat its severity is enough to make men withdraw their allegiance from\nsuch unjust governors. The inequality of the divine rule had appeared\nin the same light to Hesiod and Homer (see _Iliad_, xiii. 631; Hesiod,\n_Op. et Dies_, 270). But it is in the gnomic poets that we first\ndiscover a tendency to return and reason upon such questions: the wedge\nof philosophical scepticism was being inserted into the old beliefs\nof the Greek race. In some respects these gnomic poets present even a\nmore gloomy view of human destinies than the epic poets. Solon says,\n\"It is fate that bringeth good and bad to men; nor can the gifts of\nthe immortals be refused;\" and in Theognis we find, \"No man is either\nwealthy or poor, mean or noble, without the help of the gods.\" ...\n\"Pray to the gods; naught happens to man of good or ill without the\ngods.\" ... \"No one, Cyrnus, is himself the cause of loss and gain; but\nof both these the gods are givers.\"[58] It would be easy to multiply\npassages where the same conception of the divine government as that\nfor which Plato (_Rep._, p. 379) blamed Homer is set forth; but the\ngnomic poets go beyond this simple view. They seem to regard Heaven as\na jealous power, and superstitiously believe all changes of fortune\nto be produced by the operation of a god anxious to delude human\nexpectations. This theology lies at the base of the Solonian maxim,\nthat you ought not to judge of a man's happiness until his death;\n\"for,\" in the language of Herodotus, \"there are many to whom God has\nfirst displayed good-fortune, and whom he afterwards has rooted up and\noverthrown.\"\n\nThus Solon moralizes in his elegies upon the vicissitudes of life:\n\"Danger lies everywhere, nor can a man say where he will end when he\nbegins; for he who thinks to do well, without fore-thought, comes to\ngrief; and often when a man is doing ill, Heaven sends him good-luck,\nand he ends prosperously.\" It must, however, be observed that Solon in\nno passage of his elegiac poems alludes distinctly to the intervention\nof a jealous or malicious destiny. He is rather deeply impressed with\nthe uncertainty of human affairs--an uncertainty which the events of\nhis own life amply illustrated, and which he saw displayed in every\ntown about him. Simonides repeats the same strain of despondency,\ndwelling (Frag. 2, ed. Gaisford) upon the mutabilities of life, and\nexclaiming with a kind of horror: \"One hideous Charybdis swallows all\nthings--wealth and mighty virtue.\"\n\nAt this period in Greece the old simplicity of life was passing away,\nand philosophy had not yet revealed her broader horizons, her loftier\naims, and her rational sources of content. We have seen how Mimnermus\nbemoaned the woes of old age. Solon, whose manliness contrasts in every\nother respect with the effeminacy and languor of the Colophonian poet,\ngave way to the same kind of melancholy when he cried, \"No mortal man\nis truly blessed; but all are wretched whom the sun beholds.\" What can\nbe more despairing than the lamentations of Simonides?--\"Few and evil\nare our days of life; but everlasting is the sleep which we must sleep\nbeneath the earth.\" ... \"Small is the strength of man, and invincible\nare his sorrows; grief treads upon the heels of grief through his short\nlife; and death, which no man shuns, hangs over him at last: to this\nbourn come the good and bad alike.\" In the midst of this uncertainty\nand gloom Theognis cannot find a rule of right conduct. \"Nothing,\" he\nsays, \"is defined by Heaven for mortals, nor any way by which a man\nmay walk and please immortal powers.\" Nor can we point to any more\nprofoundly wretched expression of misery than the following elegy of\nthe same poet: \"It is best of all things for the sons of earth not to\nbe born, nor to see the bright rays of the sun, or else after birth\nto pass as soon as possible the gates of death, and to lie deep down\nbeneath a weight of earth.\" This sentiment is repeated by Bacchylides,\nand every student of Greek tragedy knows what splendid use has been\nmade of it by Sophocles in one of the choruses of _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_.\nAfterwards it passed into a commonplace. Two Euripidean fragments\nembody it in words not very different from those of Theognis, and\nCicero is said to have translated it. When we consider the uneasy\nand uncertain view of human life expressed in these passages, it\nseems wonderful that men, conscious of utter ignorance, and believing\nthemselves, like Herodotus, to be the sport of almost malignant\ndeities, could have grown so nobly and maintained so high a moral\nstandard as that of the Greek race.[59]\n\nThe remaining fragments of Solon contain the celebrated lines upon\nthe Life of Man, which he divided into ten periods of seven years. He\nrebuked Mimnermus for wishing to make sixty the term of human life,\nand bade him add another decade. We also possess some amorous verses\nof questionable character, supposed to have been written in his early\nyouth. The prudes of antiquity were scandalized at Solon, a lawgiver\nand sage, for having penned these couplets. The libertines rejoiced\nto place so respectable a name upon their list of worthies. To the\nstudent of history they afford, in a compact form, some insight into\nthe pursuits and objects of an Athenian man of pleasure. Plato quotes\none couplet in the _Lysis_, and the author of the dialogue #peri\ner\u00f4t\u00f4n# (On Loves), attributed to Lucian, makes use of the same verses\nto prove that Solon was not exempt from the passion for which he is\napologizing. Apuleius mentions another as \"lascivissimus ille versus.\"\nIt should be added that the most considerable of these elegies has also\nbeen ascribed to Theognis. The doubt of authorship which hangs over all\nthe gnomic fragments warns us, therefore, to be cautious in ascribing\nthem to Solon. At the same time there is no strong external or internal\nargument against their authenticity. Solon displays no asceticism in\nhis poetry, or in anything that is recorded of his life or sayings.[60]\nIt is probable that he lived as a Greek among Greeks, and was not\nashamed of any of their social customs.\n\nPassing from Solon to Phocylides, we find a somewhat different tone\nof social philosophy. Phocylides was a native of Miletus who lived\nbetween 550 and 490 B.C. If Mimnermus represents the effeminacy of\nthe Asiatic Greeks, Phocylides displays a kind of prosaic worldly\nwisdom, for which the Ionians were celebrated. He is thoroughly\n_bourgeois_, to use a modern phrase; contented with material felicity,\nshrewd, safe in his opinions, and gifted with great common-sense.\nHere are some of his maxims: \"First get your living, and then think\nof getting virtue.\" ... \"What is the advantage of noble birth, if\nfavor follow not the speech and counsel of a man?\" ... \"The middle\nclasses are in many ways best off; I wish to be of middle rank in\nthe State.\" Aristotle (_Pol._, iv. 9, 7) quotes the last of these\nsayings with approbation. It is a thoroughly Ionian sentiment. Two\nof his genuine fragments contain the germ of Greek ideas afterwards\ndestined to be widely developed and applied by the greatest thinkers\nof Greece. One of these describes the Greek conception of a perfect\nState: \"A small city, set upon a rock, and well governed, is better\nthan all foolish Nineveh.\" We here recognize the practical wisdom and\nthorough solidity of Greek good-sense. Wealth, size, and splendor\nthey regarded as stumbling-blocks and sources of weakness. To be\ncompact and well governed expressed their ideal of social felicity.\nPlato in the _Republic_, and Aristotle in the _Politics_, carry the\nthought expressed in this couplet of Phocylides to its utmost logical\nconsequences. Again he says, \"In justice the whole of virtue exists\nentire.\" This verse, which has also been incorporated into the elegies\nof Theognis, was probably the common property of many early moralists.\nAristotle quotes it in the fifth book of the _Ethics_, with the\npreface, #Dio kai paroimiazomenoi phamen# (wherefore in a proverb too\nwe say). It might be placed as a motto on the first page of Plato's\n_Republic_, for justice is the architectonic virtue which maintains the\nhealth and safety of the State.\n\nPhocylides enjoyed a high reputation among the ancients. Though few\ngenuine fragments of his sayings have been handed down to us, there is\na long and obviously spurious poem which bears his name. Some moralist\nof the Christian period has endeavored to claim for his half-Jewish\nprecepts the sanction of a great and antique authority. The greater\nnumber of those which we may with safety accept as genuine are prefaced\nby the words #kai toge Ph\u00f4kylide\u00f4# (and this too of Phocylides),\nforming an integral part of a hexameter. Phocylides was author of an\nepigram in imitation of one ascribed to Demodocus, which is chiefly\ninteresting as having furnished Porson with the model of his well-known\nlines on Hermann. He also composed an epigrammatic satire on women,\nin which he compares them to four animals, a dog, a bee, a pig, and a\nhorse, in the style of the poem by Simonides of Amorgos.\n\nXenophanes, a native of Colophon, and the founder of the Eleatic school\nof philosophy, has left some elegies of a gnomic character, which\nillustrate another point in the Ionian intellect. While Phocylides\ncelebrated the superiority of comfort and the solid goods of life,\nXenophanes endeavored to break down the prejudice in favor of mere\nphysical advantages, and to assert the absolute pre-eminence of\nintellectual power. In his second fragment (ed. Bergk) he says, \"You\ngive all kinds of honors--precedence at festivals, pensions, and public\nmaintenance--to runners, boxers, pentathletes, wrestlers, pancratists,\nand charioteers, who bear away the prize at Olympia; yet these men are\nnot so worthy of reward as I am; for better than the strength of men or\nhorses is our wisdom. What is the use of all this muscular development?\nIt will not improve the constitution of the State or increase the\nrevenue.\"[61] In this paraphrase, I have, for the sake of brevity,\nmodernized the language of Xenophanes, while seeking to preserve the\nmeaning of an elegy which admirably illustrates the principles of the\nIonian race, and of Athens in particular, as contrasted with those\nof the Dorians. Plato, Aristotle, and all the political moralists\nof Greece blamed Sparta and Thebes for training mere soldiers and\ngymnasts, to the exclusion of intellectual culture; thus retarding\nthe growth of their constitutions and forcing them to depend in all\nemergencies upon brute force. Had all Ionians been like Solon and\nXenophanes, had there been nothing of Mimnermus or Phocylides in their\ncharacter, then the Athenians might have avoided the contrary charge of\neffeminacy and ignobility of purpose and merely \u00e6sthetical superiority\nwith which they have been taxed.\n\nContemporary with Phocylides was Theognis, a poet of whose gnomic\nelegies nearly fourteen hundred lines are still extant. Some of these\nare identical with verses of Solon, and of other writers; yet we need\nnot suppose that Theognis was himself an imitator. It is far more\nprobable that all the gnomic poets borrowed from the same sources, or\nembodied in their couplets maxims of common and proverbial wisdom. That\nAristotle so regarded one of their most important aphorisms on the\narchitectonic supremacy of justice, we have already seen. Besides, it\nis not certain on what principle the elegies which bear the names of\ndifferent poets were assigned to them. Theognis covers more ground than\nany of his predecessors, and embraces a greater variety of subjects. It\nhas never been imagined that the fragments we possess formed part of an\nelaborate and continuous poem. They rather seem to have been written as\noccasion served, in order to express the thoughts of the moment; while\nnot a few included in the canon of Theognis belong probably to other\npoets. Many of them contain maxims of political wisdom, and rules for\nprivate conduct in the choice of friends; others seem to have been\ncomposed for the lyre, in praise of good society, or wine, or beauty;\nagain we find discussions of moral questions, and prayers to the gods,\nmixed up with lamentations on the miseries of exile and poverty; a few\nthrow light upon the personal history of Theognis; in all cases the\nmajority are addressed to one person, called Cyrnus.[62]\n\nTheognis was a noble, born at Megara about the middle of the sixth\ncentury B.C. His city, though traditionally subject to the yoke\nof Corinth, had under the influence of its aristocracy acquired\nindependence. In course of time Theagenes, a demagogue, gained for\nhimself despotical supremacy, and exiled the members of the old\nnobility from Megara. He, too, succumbed to popular force, and for many\nyears a struggle was maintained between the democratic party, whom\nTheognis persistently styles #kakoi# and #deiloi# (bad and cowardly),\nand the aristocracy, whom he calls #agathoi# and #esthloi# (good and\nstanch). Theognis himself, as far as we can gather from the fragments,\nspent a long portion of his life in exile from Megara; but before\nthe period of his banishment he occupied the position of friend and\ncounsellor to Cyrnus, who, though clearly younger than himself, seems\nto have been in some sense leader of the Megarian aristocracy. A large\nnumber of the maxims of Theognis on State-government are specially\naddressed to him.\n\nBefore proceeding to examine these elegies in detail, we may touch\nupon the subject of the friendship of Theognis for Cyrnus, which has\nbeen much misunderstood. It must be remembered that Theognis was the\nonly Doric poet of the gnomic class--all those who have been hitherto\nmentioned belonging without exception to the Ionian family of the\nGreek race. We are not, therefore, surprised to find some purely\nDorian qualities in the poetry of Theognis. Such, for instance, are\nthe invocations to Phoebus and Artemis, with which our collection of\nfragments opens; but such, in a far more characteristic sense, is the\nwhole relation of the poet to his friend. From time immemorial it had\nbeen the custom among the Dorian tribes for men distinguished in war or\nState-craft to select among the youths one comrade, who stood to them\nin the light of pupil and squire. In Crete this process of election was\nattended with rites of peculiar solemnity, and at Sparta the names of\n#eispn\u00eal\u00eas# and #a\u00eft\u00eas#, or \"in-breather\" and \"listener,\" were given\nto the pair. They grew up together, the elder teaching the younger\nall he knew, and expecting to receive from him in return obedience\nand affection. In manhood they were not separated, but fought and sat\nin the assembly side by side, and were regarded in all points as each\nother's representatives. Thus a kind of chivalry was formed, which,\nlike the modern chivalry of love and arms, as long as it remained\nwithin due limits, gave birth to nothing but honorable deeds and noble\nfriendships, but which in more degenerate days became the curse and\nreproach of Hellas. There is every reason to believe that Theognis\nwas united to Cyrnus in the purest bonds of Doric chivalry; and it\nis interesting to observe the kind of education which he gives his\nfriend (see 1049-1054, Theogn., ed. Bergk). Boys in the Doric States\nwere so soon separated from their home, and from the training of the\nfamily, that some substitute for the parental discipline and care\nwas requisite. This the institution to which I have briefly alluded\nseems to have to some extent supplied. A Spartan or Cretan settlement\nresembled a large public school, in which the elder boys choose their\nfags, and teach them and protect them, in return for duty, service, and\ncompanionship.\n\nLines 87-100 describe the sincere and perfect affection, the\ntruthfulness and forbearance, which the poet requires from Cyrnus. In\nanother passage (1259-1270) he complains of the changeable character of\nthe youth, and compares him to a skittish horse. One of his longest,\nand, in point of poetry, most beautiful elegies, celebrates the\nimmortality which his songs will confer on Cyrnus (237-254). He tells\nhis friend that he has given him wings to fly with over land and sea,\nthat fair young men at festivals will sing of him to sweetly sounding\npipes, and that even Hades shall not prevent him from wandering on\nwings of fame about the isles and land of Hellas so long as earth and\nsun endure. The lofty enthusiasm and confidence of these promises\nremind us of Shakespear's most pompous sonnets. Again, he bewails the\ndifficulties and dangers of this kind of friendship (1353 and 1369),\nor entreats Cyrnus not to let malicious slanders interrupt their\nintimacy. In some cases we cannot acquit Theognis any more than Solon\nof licentiousness in the expression of his love. But the general tone\nof his language addressed to Cyrnus is so dignified and sober that we\nare inclined to think his looser verses may refer to another and more\nscandalous attachment.\n\nThe first elegy of great importance (43-69) describes the state of\nMegara when under the control of a democracy. It expresses the\nbitter hatred and contempt which the Greek nobles in a Dorian state\nfelt for the Perioeci, or farmers of the neighboring country, whom\nthey strove to keep beneath them, and to exclude from all political\nrights: \"Cyrnus, this city is still a city, but the people are all\nchanged, who some time since knew neither law nor justice, but wore\ngoatskins, and dwelt like deer beyond the walls. Now they are noble,\nson of Polypas; and the brave of heretofore are base. Who can endure\nto look upon these things?\" Again he says (1109-1114), \"The nobles\nof old days are now made base, and the base are noble, ... a man of\nbirth takes his bride from a low man's house.\" In another place he\ncomplains that the rabble rule the State with monstrous laws, that the\nsense of shame has perished, and that impudence and insolence lord it\nover the land (289-292). In these perilous times he compares the State\nto a ship managed by incompetent and unruly mariners: the waves are\nbreaking over her, but the sailors prevent the good pilot from guiding\nher helm, while they make pillage of the common good (667-682). This\nsimile bears a striking resemblance to the passage of the _Republic_\nin which Plato compares a state possessed by demagogues and the mob to\nan ill-governed ship. Lastly, says Theognis, \"Porters rule, and the\nnobles are subject to the base.\" In this state of disorder the very\nprinciples of Dorian society are neglected. Money is regarded as the\ncharter of nobility, and no attempts are made to maintain a generous\nbreed of citizens. \"We are careful,\" he says (183-196), \"to select the\nbest race of horses and the like, but a noble man doubts not about\nmarrying a mean woman if she bring him money; nor does a woman reject\nthe suit of a mean man if he be rich. Wealth is honored; wealth has\nconfused our blood.\" This passage has great interest, both as showing\nthe old prejudices of the Dorian aristocracy, and also as proving that\na new order of things was beginning in Greece. Even the Dorian States\ncould not resist the progress of commerce and republican institutions;\nand little Megara, situated between mercantile Corinth and democratic\nAthens, had but small strength to stem the tide. But the party of\nTheognis were not always out of power. When Cyrnus and his friends\nheld sway in Megara, he gives them this advice (847-850): \"Trample on\nthe empty-headed rabble; strike them with the stinging goad; and put a\ngalling yoke upon their neck; for never shall you find so despot-loving\na demus in the whole earth.\" That he had frequent cause to apprehend\nthe rising of some tyrant from the body of the people may be noticed in\nthe fragments. Among the earliest of these in our arrangement (39-42)\noccurs this elegy: \"Cyrnus, this city is pregnant; but I fear that it\nwill bring forth a man to chastise our evil violence.\" He then proceeds\nto lay down the axioms of the oligarchical State theory: the nobility,\nhe says, never ruined a city; it is only when base leaders get the\nupper-hand, and wrest justice in order to indulge the populace and make\ntheir own gain, that civil dissension and ruin ensue. Tyrants were as\nhateful to the true oligarchs as a democracy, and Theognis in one place\nactually advises tyrannicide: \"To lay low a despot who consumes the\npeople is no sin, and will not be punished by the gods\" (1181). This\nsentiment corresponds with the couplet of Simonides on Harmodius and\nAristogeiton, and with the apothegms of several of the sages.\n\nTheognis, seeing Cyrnus environed with political difficulties, thought\nfit to furnish him with rules of conduct. He was very particular\nabout the choice of proper friends. One elegy (31-38), in which he\ndiscourses on the desirability of consorting with none but the best\ncompany, and of avoiding the contagion of low comrades, attained a\nwide celebrity among the Greeks. So much of their life was spent in\npublic, and so much of their education depended on society, that the\nquestion of social intercourse was one of paramount importance. Plato\nin the _Meno_, Xenophon in his _Memorabilia_, and Aristotle in the\nninth book of the _Ethics_, all make use of these verses: \"Come not\ninto the company of bad men, but cling always to the good; eat and\ndrink with them; sit with them, and seek to please those who have great\npower. For from the noble you will learn what is noble; but if you\nmix with base men you will lose the wits you have.\" It must always be\nborne in mind that by #esthloi# and #agathoi# Theognis meant the men\nof his own party. The \"good\" and \"noble\" were men of birth, wealth,\nbreeding, and power, on whom, by prejudice and habit, he conferred\nthese moral titles. In course of time, however, as the words acquired\na more ethical significance, the philosophers were able to appropriate\nmaxims of worldly prudence to their own more elevated purposes; nor\nwere they even in the times of Theognis other than ambiguous, for\nthe identification of aristocratic position and moral worth was so\nconventionally complete that words which were intended to be taken\nin the one sense had an equal application in the other. In another\nelegy (305-308) Theognis repeats this advice, when he observes that\nno one is born utterly bad by nature, but that he contracts habits of\ndepravity from his associates. Here it is obvious how much of ethical\nmeaning the words \"good\" and \"bad\" involved, even in the times of the\nMegarian poet, and how vastly important he considered the society of\nwell-bred companions to be in the formation of character. A different\nview of moral habits seems to be taken in another fragment (429-438),\nwhere Theognis attributes more influence to nature than to training:\n\"To beget and rear a child,\" he says, \"is easier than to instil good\nprinciples. No one ever devised means for making fools wise, or bad\nmen good. If Heaven had given to the sons of \u00c6sculapius the gift of\nhealing wickedness and folly, great fees would they have earned. If you\ncould fashion or insert what minds you liked, good men would never have\nbad sons. But no amount of teaching will make a bad man good.\" These\nverses are quoted both by Plato and Aristotle, with whose inquiries\non the subject of Education _versus_ Nature, of #troph\u00ea# as opposed to\n#physis#, they had, of course, considerable correspondence.\n\nIn connection with this subject of moral habits and companionship,\nTheognis thought fit to give his pupil advice about his deportment at\nthe public dinners of the Dorians. At these social meetings there was\nample scope for political intrigue; and hence it followed that a public\nman was forced to be particular about his associates. The poet devotes\na series of couplets (61-82) to this point, recommending Cyrnus to be\nreticent, and not to communicate the whole of his plans even to his\nfriends. He warns him how difficult it is to get a faithful friend. You\ncould not find, he says (83-86), one shipload of really trustworthy\nand incorruptible men upon the face of the world. Moreover, nothing\nrequires more skill than to discover the insincerity of a hypocrite\n(117-128). You may test gold and silver, but there are no means of\ngetting at the thoughts of men. This sentiment, together with the\nmetaphor of pinchbeck metal, is used by Euripides in _Medea_ (line\n515). Aristotle also quotes the passage in his Eudemian _Ethics_ (vii.\n2). Time, however, says Theognis (963-970), and experience and calamity\nare the true tests of friendship. If a man will bear misfortune with\nyou, or will help you in a serious undertaking, you may then, but not\ntill then, rely upon his expressions of attachment. This suspicious\ntemper recalls the social philosophy of Machiavelli; indeed, Greek\npolitics in no respect resembled those of modern Italy more closely\nthan in the diplomatic footing upon which all the relations of\nsociety were placed. There are two very curious passages (213-218 and\n1071-1074) in which Theognis bids his friend be as much as possible all\nthings to all men. \"Turn a different side of your character,\" he says,\n\"to different men, and mix part of their temper with your own. Get the\nnature of the cuttlefish, which looks exactly like the rock it clings\nto: be versatile, and show a variety of complexions.\" Again, he boasts\nthat \"among madmen I am exceeding mad; but among the just no man is\nmore just than I am.\" Nor is this subtlety to be confined to friendly\nrelations merely. In one most Jesuitical couplet (363) Theognis urges\nhis friend \"to beguile his foe with fair words; but when he has him in\nhis power, to take full vengeance and to spare not.\" As to the actual\nevents of the life of Cyrnus, we know nothing except what is told us in\none of the elegies (805--810), that he went as a theorus to the shrine\nof Delphi. We may gather from some expressions of the poet that he was\nof a rash and haughty and unconciliatory temper.\n\nPassing now to the personal history of Theognis, we are struck with\nhis frequent lamentations over poverty and the wretchedness of exile.\n\"Miserable poverty!\" he cries, \"go elsewhere; prithee stay not with\na host that hates thee.\" \"Poverty breaks the spirit of a noble man\nmore than anything, more even than age or ague. The poor man is gagged\nand bound; he cannot speak or act.... Poverty comes not to the market\nor the lawsuits; everywhere she is laughed and scoffed at, and hated\nby all men, ... mother she is of helplessness; she breaks the spirit\nof a man within his breast, so that he suffers shame and wrong in\nsilence, and learns to lie and cheat and do the sin his soul abhors....\nWretched want, why, seated on my shoulders, dost thou debase body and\nmind alike\" (267, 351, 385, 173-182, 649). Wealth, on the other hand,\nhe cries with bitterness, is omnipotent (1117): \"O wealth! of gods\nthe fairest and most full of charm! with thy help, though I am a mean\nman, I am made noble.\" \"Every one honors a rich man and slights a poor\nman: the whole world agrees upon this point.\" But the finest and most\nsatirical of all his poems on this subject is one (699-718) in which he\nsays: \"Most men have but one virtue, and that is wealth; it would do\nyou no good if you had the self-control of Rhadamanthus himself, or if\nyou knew more wiles than Sisyphus, or if you could turn falsehood into\ntruth with the tongue of a Nestor, or if you were more fleet of foot\nthan the children of Boreas. You must fix your mind on wealth--wealth\nalone. Wealth is almighty.\" It was poverty that gave its bitterness\nto exile. My friends, he says, pass me by; \"no one is the friend or\nfaithful comrade of an exile. This is the sting of exile.\" \"I have\nsuffered what is as bad as death, and worse than anything besides. My\nfriends have refused me the assistance which they owed, and I am forced\nto try my foes\" (811-814). Hope, which has always been the food and\nsustenance of exiles, alone remained to him. There is one beautiful\nelegy (1135-1150) in which he imitates Hesiod, singing how faith and\ntemperance and the graces have left the earth, how oaths are broken\nand religion is neglected, how holiness hath passed away; yet, if a\npious man remain, let him wait on Hope, to Hope pray always, to Hope\nsacrifice first and last.\n\nVerses 825-830 and 1197-1202 describe his condition while living as a\npoor man, stripped of his paternal farms, in Megara. The voice of the\nharvest-bird brings him sorrow, for he knows that other men will reap\nhis fields. How can he pipe or sing, when from the market-place he sees\nhis own land made the prey of revellers? The same sense of the _res\nangusta domi_ is expressed in the welcome to Clearistus. We gather from\nanother elegy (261-266) that Theognis had lost not only his land, but\nalso a girl to whom he was betrothed. Her parents gave her in marriage\nto a man less noble and less worthy than himself. Nor do we fail to get\nsome insight into his domestic circumstances. Mr. Frere explains one\nfragment (271-278), full of Lear's indignation, by conjecturing that\nTheognis had left a wife and children behind him at Megara during his\nwanderings, and had returned to find them estranged and thankless. He\ntranslates the fragment thus:\n\n    One single evil, more severe and rude\n    Than age or sickness or decrepitude,\n    Is dealt unequally, for him that rears\n    A thankless offspring; in his latter years,\n    Ungratefully requited for his pains,\n    A parsimonious life and thrifty gains,\n    With toil and care acquired for their behoof;\n    And no return! but insolent reproof;\n    Such as might scare a beggar from the gate,\n    A wretch unknown, poor and importunate!\n    To be reviled, avoided, hated, curst;\n    This is the last of evils, and the worst!\n\nThe same kind of ingenious conjecture supplies us with a plausible\nexplanation of some obscure couplets (1211-1216), in which it appears\nthat Theognis, having been taunted by a female slave, replied by\nmaking most sarcastic remarks on the servile physiognomy, and by\nboasting that among all his miseries he had remained a free man and a\nnoble-minded gentleman. He often bids his soul be strong and bear bad\nfortune, like Ulysses when he cried, #tetlathi d\u00ea kradi\u00ea kai kynteron\nallo pot' etl\u00eas#.[63] Nor does he fail to ease his heart by praying\nfor vengeance, and indulging the hope that he may live to drink the\nblood of his foes (349), and to divide their property among his friends\n(562). That he was kindly entertained in the various states he visited,\nhe tells us; and it is thought that he received the citizenship of\nHybl\u00e6an Megara. Sicily, Euboea, and Sparta (783-788) are specially\nmentioned by him as his homes in exile. Wherever he went he carried\nwith him fame, and found a welcome. \"Yet,\" says the poet, \"no joy of\nthose fair lands entered my soul, so far was anything from seeming\ndearer than my native land.\"\n\nAmong the elegies of general interest attributed to Theognis, none is\nmore beautiful than the following hymn to the goddesses of Song and\nBeauty, which has been very elegantly rendered into English verse:\n\n    Muses and Graces! daughters of high Jove,\n    When erst you left your glorious seats above\n    To bless the bridal of that wondrous pair,\n    Cadmus and Harmonia fair,\n    Ye chanted forth a divine air:\n        \"What is good and fair\n        Shall ever be our care.\"\n    Thus the burden of it rang:\n        \"That shall never be our care\n        Which is neither good nor fair.\"\n    Such were the words your lips immortal sang.[64]\n\nThe very essence of the Greek feeling for the beautiful is expressed\nin these simple lines. Beauty, goodness, and truth were to the Greeks\nalmost convertible terms; and the nearest approach which Plato made\nto the conception of a metaphysical deity was called by him the #idea\ntou kalou#. Not less Greek is the sentiment expressed in the following\nlines (1027): \"Easy among men is the practice of wickedness, but hard,\nfriend Cyrnus, is the method of goodness.\" Theognis here expresses very\nprosaically what Hesiod and Simonides have both enunciated in noble\nverse (_Op. et Dies_, 285-290, and Simonides, Frag. 15, ed. Gaisford).\nIt is noticeable that in his couplet #to agathon# is used instead of\n#aret\u00ea#. The thought, however, is the same; nor does it differ widely\nfrom that which is contained in the Aristotelian \"Hymn to Virtue,\"\nwhere we see that what the Greeks meant by this word included not only\nmoral rectitude, but also the labor of a Hercules, and all noble or\npatriotic deeds which implied self-devotion to a great cause.\n\nThe occasions for which the elegies of this class were composed by\nTheognis seem to have been chiefly banquets and drinking-parties. In\nthe Dorian States of Greece it was customary for men to form select\nclubs, which met together after the public meals for the purpose of\ndrinking, conversing, and enjoying music. These friendly societies\nformed an appendix to the national #pheiditia#, or public tables.\nGreat care was taken in the selection of members, who were admitted by\nballot; and in time the clubs acquired political importance. Periander\nis said (Aris. _Pol._, v. 9, 2) to have abolished them in Corinth\nbecause they proved favorable to aristocracy--no doubt by keeping\nup the old Doric traditions which he took pains to break down. In\nthe verses of Theognis we are introduced to many members of his club\nby name--Onomacritus, Clearistus, Demonax, Democles, Timagoras, and\ndoubtless Cyrnus. Of course these customs were not confined to Doric\ncities; on the contrary, the Symposia and Erani of the Athenians are\nmore celebrated for their wit and humor, while readers of Thucydides\nremember how large a part the clubs played in the history of the 8th\nbook. But the custom was systematized, like everything else, with\ngreater rigor among Dorians. It appears that, after having eaten,\nthe cups were filled and libations were made to the Doric patron\nPhoebus (cf. Theogn., Frag. 1); then came the Comus, or drinking-bout:\nflute-players entered the room, and some of the guests sang to the\nlyre, or addressed an elegy to the company at large, or to some\nparticular person. These facts may be gathered from different fragments\nof Theognis (997, 757); but if we wish to gain a complete picture of\none of these parties, we may seek it in an elegy of Xenophanes, which\nis so fresh and pretty that I feel inclined to paraphrase it at length:\n\n\n    \"Now the floor is cleanly swept; the hands of all the guests\n    are washed; the cups shine brightly on the board. Woven wreaths\n    and fragrant myrrh are carried round by the attendants,\n    and in the middle stands a bowl full of that which maketh\n    glad the heart of man. Wine, too, is ready in reserve, wine\n    inexhaustible, honey-sweet in jars, smelling of flowers.\n    Frankincense breathes forth its perfume among the revellers,\n    and cold water, sweet and pure, waits at their side. Loaves,\n    fresh and golden, stand upon the table, which groans with\n    cheese and rich honey. In the midst is an altar hung about\n    with flowers, and singing and merriment resound throughout the\n    house. First must merry-making men address the gods with holy\n    songs and pure words; libations must they pour, and pray for\n    strength to act justly; then may they drink as much as a man\n    can carry home without a guide--unless he be far gone in years.\n    This also is right, to speak of noble deeds and virtue over our\n    cups; not to tell tales of giants or Titans or the Centaurs,\n    mere fictions of our grandfathers, and foolish fables.\"\n\nIt was customary at these banquets to sing the praises of youth and\nto lament old age, ringing endless changes on the refrain \"Vivamus\natque amemus,\" which antiquity was never weary of repeating. Very sad\nand pathetic is the tone of these old songs, wherein the p\u00e6an mingles\nwith the dirge; for youth and the grave are named in the same breath,\nand while we smell the roses we are reminded that they will wither.\nThen comes the end--the cold and solitary tomb, eternal frost and\neverlasting darkness, to which old age, the winter and night of life,\nis but a melancholy portal. _Gaudeamus igitur, juvenes dum sumus._\n\n    To pleasure, in life's bloom, yield we our powers,\n    While yet to be and to enjoy are ours;\n    For swift as thought our glorious youth goes by,\n    Swift as the coursers that to battle fly,\n    Bearing the chief with quivering spear in hand,\n    Madly careering o'er the rich corn-land--\n\nso sings Theognis (977), and with even more of pathos he exclaims--\n\n    Ah me! my youth! alas for eld's dark day:\n    This comes apace, while that fleets fast away.\n\nThe same idea is repeated in many other elegies, always with the same\nsad cadence: \"No man, as soon as the earth covers him, and he goes\ndown to Erebus, the home of Persephone, takes any pleasure in the\nsound of the lyre, or the voice of the flute-player, or in the sweet\ngifts of Dionysus\" (973-976). At another time he reckons up the ills\nof life: \"When I am drinking I take no heed of soul-consuming poverty\nor of enemies who speak ill of me; but I lament delightful youth\nwhich is forsaking me, and wail for grim old age who cometh on apace\"\n(1129-1132). Their tone reminds us of Mimnermus, who said the utmost\nwhen he cried--\n\n    Zeus to Tithonus gave a grievous ill--\n    Undying age, than death more horrible!\n\nTo multiply more elegies of this description would be useless. We may,\nhowever, allude to a poem of Simonides (Frag. 100, ed. Gaisford),\nwhich combines the sweetness of Mimnermus and the energy of Theognis:\n\"Nothing human endures for aye. Well said the bard of Chios, that\nlike the leaves so is the race of men: yet few who hear this keep it\nin their mind; for hope is strong within the breast of youth. When\nthe flower of youth lasts, and the heart of a man is light, he nurses\nidle thoughts, hoping he never will grow old or die; nor does he\nthink of sickness in good health. Fools are they who dream thus, nor\nknow how short are the days of youth and life. But learn thou this,\nand live thy life out, cheering thy soul with good things.\" The tone\nof these elegies pervades a great many monuments of Greek sculpture.\nStanding before the Genius of Eternal Repose, or the so-called Genius\nof the Vatican, we are moved almost to tears by the dumb sadness with\nwhich their perfect beauty has been chastened. Like the shade of\nyoung Marcellus in Virgil, they seem to carry round them a cloud of\ngloom, impalpable, yet overshadowing their youth with warnings and\nanticipations of the tomb.\n\nWith Theognis the list of gnomic poets, strictly so called, may be\nsaid to close. Simonides, from whom I have adduced some passages in\nillustration of the elder elegiac writers, survived the bard of Megara,\nand attained a far greater reputation than he enjoyed, at the Syracusan\nand Athenian courts. How highly his maxims were valued by the moralists\nof the succeeding age is known by every reader of the _Protagoras_\nand _Republic_ of Plato. But a more detailed analysis of his verses\nwould be out of place, when we consider that his chief fame rests upon\nepitaphs, patriotic epigrams, and lyrical fragments--none of them\nstrictly gnomic in their character.\n\nTo modern readers the philosophy of the poets whom we have considered\nwill perhaps seem trite, their inspiration tame, their style\npedestrian. But their contemporaries were far from arriving at this\ncriticism. To obtain concise and abstract maxims upon the ethics of\nsociety, politics, and education was to them a new and inestimable\nprivilege. In the gnomic poets the morality which had been merely\nimplicit in Homer and Hesiod received separate treatment and\ndistinct expression. The wisdom which had been gradually collecting\nfor centuries in the Greek mind was tersely and lucidly condensed\ninto a few pregnant sentences. These sentences formed the data for\nnew syntheses and higher generalizations, the topics for enlarged\ninvestigation, the \"middle axioms\" between the scattered facts of life\nand the unity of philosophical system. _We_ may regard the gnomic\npoets with interest, partly on account of the real, if rare, beauty\nof some of their fragments; partly on account of their historical\nand illustrative value; partly because all efforts of the human mind\nin its struggle for emancipation, and all stages in its development,\nare worthy of attentive study. To the sophists, to the orators, to\nSocrates and his friends, to the tragic writers, to educated men at\nlarge in Hellas, they were authorities on moral questions; and their\nmaxims, which the progress of the centuries has rendered commonplace,\nappeared the sentences of weightiest wisdom, oracles almost, and\nprecepts inspired by more than human prudence.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[49] This seems to have been recognized by the ancients, as is proved\nby the lines quoted from Hermesianax in _Athen\u00e6us_, xiii. 597, where\nthe epithet #malachos#, assigned to his pentameter, is meant to be\nemphatic. Mimnermus gave it a luxurious and tender quality.\n\n[50] Without attempting to discuss the vexed question whether Tyrt\u00e6us\nwas a native Spartan, or, according to the ancient tale, an Athenian\nnaturalized in Sparta, his self-identification with the people he\ninspired justifies the phrase that I have used above.\n\n[51] The sentiment of these last lines is not only ethically spirited,\nbut it is also singularly, exquisitely Greek. The \u00e6sthetic tact of\nthe Greek race felt the plastic charm of a youth's form dead upon the\nbattle-field. Like a statue marbled by the frost of death he lies,\nthe perfection of life-moulded clay; and his red wounds are the lips\nof everlasting praise. Not so the elder man. Nakedness and mutilation\nbring no honor to him; he has no loveliness of shape to be revealed\nand heightened by the injuries of war; for him the flowing beard and\nthe robes of reverend eld are a majestic covering, to be withdrawn by\nno hand seeking to unveil secluded beauties. His lot is cast no longer\nin those fields, intense and passionate of art and love, where death,\ncropping the bloom unset, confers a crown of immortality. Cf. _Iliad_,\nxxii. 71. An echo of this Greek feeling for the beautiful young dead\nmay be traced in David's picture of the drummer-boy at Avignon, in Walt\nWhitman, and in Lord Albemarle's \"Recollections of Waterloo.\"\n\n[52] The birthplace of Mimnermus is not very certain. Fragment 9 in\nBergk's _Collection_ would seem to justify the opinion that he was a\nnative of Smyrna colonized from Colophon.\n\n[53] Notice particularly the couplets of Theognis beginning #\u00f4moi eg\u00f4n\nh\u00eab\u00eas# and #aphrones anthr\u00f4poi#, Bergk, vol. ii. pp. 420, 550.\n\n[54] Fragment 9 in Bergk's _Collection_ might seem to express a manlier\nspirit, if we could suppose that it referred to personal exploits\nof the poet. It forms, however, part of a description of the early\ncolonization of Smyrna from Pylos; when Mimnermus alludes to martial\ndeeds, he does so with a tone of regret, as one who has no share in\nthem, and lives his own life in political stagnation.\n\n[55] _Miscellanies_, by the late John Addington Symonds, M.D.\n(Macmillan & Co., 1871), p. 410.\n\n[56] Strabo quotes \"the Nanno\" as Athen\u00e6us quotes \"the Leontion\" of\nHermesianax, another Colophonian amourist.\n\n[57] _Epistles_, bk. i. 6. Translated thus by Conington: \"If, as\nMimnermus tells you, life is flat with naught to love, devote yourself\nto that.\"\n\n[58] The well-known passage in the _Iliad_ (xxiv. 527) which describes\nthe two casks at the threshold of the house of Zeus contains the germ\nof this belief. But after Homer there arose a darker sense of the\njealousy of the gods, accompanied in speculative minds by a tendency to\ncall the principles of the divine rule in question.\n\n[59] This subject will be resumed in the introduction to my chapter on\nEuripides, where I attempt to show how the Herodotean notion of divine\njealousy was moralized at the time of the Persian war into the idea of\nNemesis.\n\n[60] See the passage quoted from _Philemon_ by Athen\u00e6us, xiii. 569,\nwhere the institution of public _lupanaria_ is ascribed to Solon.\n\n[61] We may compare with this fragment a passage preserved from the\n_Autolycus_ of Euripides, translated by me below in the chapter on the\nFragments of \u00c6schylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.\n\n[62] very ingenious attempt was made by Mr. Hookham Frere to\nreconstruct the life of Theognis from his elegies. It would be too\nmuch to assert that his conjectures are always successful. Indeed,\nhe often introduces foreign matter and modern sentiment, while he\nneglects the peculiarly Greek relations of the poet to his friend.\nThose who are curious about such works of hypercriticism would do well\nto study his _Theognis Restitutus_. (Frere's Works, vol. ii.) In doing\nso, they must, however, bear in mind, as already observed above, that\na great many of the couplets and short poems ascribed to Theognis\nby the later Greeks were not really his own. Theognis, like Hesiod,\nSolon, and Phocylides, was credited with more proverbial wisdom than\nhe can be held responsible for. Contradictory utterances are therefore\nnot unfrequent in his elegies, and this fact renders a trustworthy\nrestoration of his biography and body of opinion almost impossible.\n\n[63] \"Be stout, O heart of mine: ere now thou hast endured even more\ngrimly grief than this.\"\n\n[64] _Miscellanies_, by the late John Addington Symonds, M.D., p. 411.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n_THE SATIRISTS._\n\n    Invention of the Iambic Metre.--Archilochus.--His Parentage and\n        Life.--His Fame among the Ancients.--Ancient and Modern\n        Modes of Judging Artists.--The Originality of Archilochus\n        as a Poet.--Simonides of Amorgos.--His Satire on\n        Women.--The Ionian Contempt for Women.--Hipponax.--Limping\n        Iambics.--Differences between the Satire of the Greeks and\n        Romans.\n\n\nThe Greeks displayed their \u00e6sthetic instinct in nothing more remarkably\nthan in their exact adaptation of the forms of art to the nature of\nthe subjects which they undertook to treat. The hexameter had sufficed\nfor the needs of the epic. The elegiac had fulfilled the requirements\nof pathetic or contemplative meditation. But with the development\nof the national genius a separate vehicle for satire was demanded.\nArchilochus of Paros created a new style, and presented in the iambic\nmetre a new instrument to the poets of his race. The circumstances of\nthe birth and parentage of Archilochus are significant. He was the son\nof Telesicles, a noble Ionian, and of Enipo, a slave-woman. Thus from\nthe very first there were inequalities in his circumstances which may\nhave sufficed to sour his temper. His birth, which may be fixed about\n729 B.C., was predicted, according to old tradition, by the oracle\nat Delphi. The same oracle busied itself at a later period with his\ndeath, by cursing the Naxian soldier Calondas, who had killed him\nin battle, because he had \"slain the servant of the Muses.\" As the\nfragments we possess of Archilochus render it difficult to understand\nthe very high estimation in which he was held by the Greeks, and which\nthese stories indicate, it may be well to preface this account of\nhim with some quotations from the ancient critics. Longinus,[65] to\nbegin with, explains the incongruities of his poetry by saying that he\n\"dragged disorderly elements into his verse under the impulse of divine\ninspiration.\" Plato[66] calls him #ho soph\u00f4tatos Archilochos#, \"the\nprince of sages,\" which, in the mouth of a philosopher, is the highest\npanegyric. The Alexandrian critic Aristophanes, when asked which of the\npoems of Archilochus he liked best, answered with laconic brevity, \"the\nlongest.\" Hadrian,[67] in an epigram, says that the Muses turned the\nattention of Archilochus to mad iambics, in order that their darling\nHomer might not have so dangerous a rival in the field of the epic. All\nantiquity agreed in naming him second only to Homer: \"Maximus poeta aut\ncerte summo proximus,\" \"a poet of the highest order, or surely next\nunto the greatest,\" says Valerius Maximus. The birthdays of Homer and\nArchilochus were celebrated on the same day; their busts were joined\nin Janus fashion--two faces and one head: Hippodromus the Sophist[68]\ncalled Homer the Voice, Archilochus the Breath or Soul, of the students\nof wisdom. The epithet #kallistos# (most beautiful) was ascribed to\nhim because of his perfect style, though the subjects of his poetry\nwere anything but beautiful. Of this style Quintilian[69] says that it\nexcelled in \"powerful as well as short and quivering sentences,\" that\nit contained \"the greatest possible amount of blood and sinews.\" The\nhighest praise which Gorgias could pronounce on Plato when he published\nhis dialogues upon the Sophists was to say that Athens had produced a\nnew Archilochus. To multiply these panegyrics would be easy. But enough\nhas been adduced to prove that the ancients looked on Archilochus as\na worthy rival of Homer, as a poet supreme in his own department, as\nthe creator of a new kingdom in poetry, as the sire of a long line of\nmighty artists.\n\nWhat remains of the verse of Archilochus and what we know of his\nlife are curiously at variance with this enthusiasm. Nothing proves\nthe difference between ancient and modern views of art more strongly\nthan the fact that all antiquity concurred in regarding as a divinely\ninspired benefactor of the human race a man who in the present day\nwould have been hunted from society with execrations. This son of the\nslave-woman, born in an Ionian island, where license was more tolerated\nthan in a Dorian state, devoted himself to satire, making his genius\nthe instrument of private hate, and turning the golden gifts of the\nMuses to the service of his selfish spite. A greater contrast cannot\nbe conceived than that which exists between Homer, the priest of gods\nand heroes, the poet of high actions and lofty passions, whose own\nlife is buried in sacred and sublime mystery, and this satirist who\nsaw the world with jaundiced eyes, prying about for subjects of his\nwrath and bitterness and scorn, whose themes were the passions of his\nown heart, the sordid misadventures of his personality. It was this\ncontrast between Archilochus and Homer that gave the former a right\nin the estimation of the Greeks to take equal rank with the father of\nthe epos. He, the greatest poet next in date to Homer, by virtue of a\ndivine originality of genius, exercised his art in exactly the opposite\nfield to that which Homer ruled as his demesne. Clearer sign than this\nof inspiration could not be demanded; and how should posterity withhold\nits gratitude from the poet who had unlocked a new chamber of the\ntreasure-house of art? This was how the ancients reasoned, instead of\nmeasuring their poets, as the moderns try to do, by moral standards and\nconventional conceptions of propriety.\n\nThe facts in the life of Archilochus are briefly these. He was engaged\nto be married to Neobul\u00e9, daughter of Lycambes. Her father retracted\nhis consent to the marriage, having possibly discovered that the temper\nof his proposed son-in-law was a mixture of gall, wormwood, vinegar,\nverjuice, vitriol, and nitric acid. Thereupon, as Horace says:\n\n    Archilochum proprio rabies armavit iambo.[70]\n\nHe made the iambic metre his own, and sharpened it into a terrible\nweapon of attack. Each verse he wrote was polished and pointed like\nan arrow-head. Each line was steeped in the poison of hideous charges\nagainst his sweetheart, her sisters, and her father. The set of poems\nwhich he produced, and, as it would appear, recited publicly at the\nfestival of Demeter, were so charged with wit and fire that the country\nrang with them. The daughters of Lycambes, tradition avers, went\nstraightway and hanged themselves--unable to endure the flight of fiery\nserpents that had fallen on them; for, to quote the words of Browning,\nArchilochus had the art of writing verse that \"bit into the live man's\nflesh like parchment,\" that sent him wandering, branded and forever\nshamed, about his native streets and fields. After this murderous\nexhibition of his power, Archilochus left Paros.[71]\n\n    Away with Paros! her figs and fishy life!\n\nHe removed to Thasos, where the Parians founded a colony. But Thasos\nwas worse than Paros:[72] \"Like the backbone of an ass, it stood\nbristling with wild wood; for, in sooth, it is not a fair land, or\npleasant, or delightful, like that which spreads by Siris's stream.\"\nIt was here he threw his shield away in a battle with the Thracians,\nand gave Horace and Alc\u00e6us a precedent by writing a poem on his want\nof prowess. The remainder of his life was spent in wandering. He\nvisited Sparta, where, however, he was not suffered to remain an hour.\nThe Ephors judged rightly that this runaway soldier and foul-mouthed\nIonian satirist might corrupt the Spartan youth, or sow dissension\nin the State. The publication of his works was forbidden in this the\nmost conservative of all Greek states. Finally Archilochus returned to\nParos, and was killed in battle by a native of Naxos. A more unhappy\nexistence, wretched in itself and the cause of wretchedness to others,\ncan scarcely be imagined, if the tale of the life of Archilochus be\ntrue. Dishonored by the inequality of his parentage, slighted in the\nmatter of his marriage, discontented at home, restless and rejected\nabroad, he seems to have been formed by the facts of his biography for\nthe creation of satire. And this is his greatest title to fame.\n\nIt is possible that the iambic metre existed before the date of\nArchilochus. An old myth connects it with the festivals of Demeter.\nDemeter, it is said, could not be made to laugh after her daughter's\nloss, until a nymph, Iamb\u00e9, by her jests and sarcasms, raised a\nsmile upon her lips. This legend proves that the Greeks referred the\norigin of the iambic to those jokes and gibes which were common in\nthe feasts of Demeter, and from the licentious mirth of which the\nsatiric element of comedy was developed. The iambic is nearest in\ncadence to the language of common life; it is, therefore, the fit\nvehicle for dialogue, and for all poetry that deals with common and\ndomestic topics. Again, it is essentially rapid in movement: Horace\nspeaks of _celeres iambi_ (swift iambi); Hadrian calls them #lyss\u00f4ntes\niamboi# (raging iambi): this rapidity fitted them for sharp attack\nand swift satiric pungency. Admitting, then, that the metre may have\nbeen employed in early attempts at colloquial satire, Archilochus,\nperceiving its capacities, fashioned it to suit the purpose of his\nown consummate art. He was celebrated among the ancients for having\nperfected the metres belonging to what they called the #diplasion\ngenos#, as distinguished from the #ison genos#--that is to say, the\niambic and trochaic rhythms, in which either the arsis or the thesis\nhas twice the time of the other. In a trochee the first syllable\nequals two of the same time as the second; in an iamb this order is\nreversed; whereas the dactyl and the spondee, on which the hexameter\nand elegiac metres are based, are feet each member of which has the\nsame time, the two shorts of the dactyl being equivalent to the second\nlong of the spondee. Archilochus, if not absolutely the inventor, was\nthe creator of these two metres, the iambic and trochaic, as truly as\nHomer was the creator of the heroic measure. No proof of the power of\nhis genius can be greater than the fact that, whatever changes may\nhave been subsequently wrought in the iambic and trochaic metres, they\nremained substantially the same as those which Archilochus employed,\nwhether afterwards adapted to satire, tragedy, or comedy. While\nspeaking of Archilochus as a technical artist, it ought to be mentioned\nthat he gave further proof of his originality by elaborating the\nmetrical systems which the Greeks called Asynart\u00eates, or unconnected.\nThese consisted of a mixture of dactylic and anap\u00e6stic with trochaic\nfeet. The ithyphallic, which was marked by a succession of three\ntrochees at the end of the line, was the most distinguished.\n\nTo translate Archilochus is almost impossible. His merit is the\nperfection of style, which will admit of no transplantation. His\nlanguage is the language of common life, exquisitely chosen, and\nkept within the most exact limits, with a view to the production of\na carefully studied effect. It is hopeless to render such fragments\nas we possess without making them seem coarse or prosy, the poet's\nsupremacy having been achieved by his artistic handling of vernacular\nGreek. When we compare its pithy terseness with the flowing grandeur of\nthe epic--a grandeur which had already become conventional in Greece,\na fluency which poetasters abused--it is easy to understand that the\nracy epigrams of Archilochus, in which the subject was set forth\nwith exquisite point and without circumlocution, must have been an\nacceptable novelty to his audience. Greek sculpture is not more pure in\noutline than the following fragment,[73] which sets before our eyes the\nfigure of a girl embossed on marble or engraved in chalcedony:\n\n    #echousa thallon myrsin\u00eas eterpeto\n    rhod\u00eas te kalon anthos, h\u00ea de hoi kom\u00ea\n    \u00f4mous kateskiaze kai metaphrena.#\n\nArchilochus flourished between 714 and 676 B.C. The date of the next\niambic poet, Simonides of Amorgos, is 660 B.C. It is noticeable that\nboth of these satirists are Ionian. The relaxation of Ionian life and\nthe freedom of Ionian manners, as concerned the artist and the public,\nrendered the development of satire in Ionia more natural than it could\never have been in a Dorian state. Simonides owes his celebrity to\na poem upon women, a very ungallant production of 119 lines, which\npresents one of the most curious examples upon record of a perfectly\nsmooth and yet crushing satire. The iambic lines flow quietly and\nswiftly off the poet's lips, in mild and polished phraseology, with\nnone of the concentrated fury of Archilochus. Yet Simonides aims at\nno less than destroying the character of a whole sex. In a sort of\ngentle, well-mannered, lazy way he is successful, not so much by\npersuading us through examples, after the method of Juvenal, that his\nsatire is justified, as by the imperturbable expression of a profound\nconviction. The interest of this poem is very great, as marking a\ndeparture from the personalities of Archilochus and an attempt to\nintroduce generalities into the region of satiric delineation. In\nthis respect it is in Greek literature almost unique, if we except\nSicilian, Megarian, and Attic comedy, whereof this is not the place to\nspeak. The rhetorical treatment of a problem of social ethics from the\npoint of view of satire was, as we shall see hereafter, alien to Greek\nliterature.\n\nThis is the plan of the poem. Simonides describes the nature of the\ndifferent sorts of women by comparing them successively to a hog, a\nfox, a dog, mud, sea-water, an ass, a weasel, a mare, an ape, a bee.\nThus there are ten kinds, and only one respectable or industrious. He\nrushes at once _in medias res_: \"God made the mind of women in the\nbeginning of different qualities: for one he fashioned of a bristly\nhog; in whose house everything tumbles about in disorder, bespattered\nwith mud, and rolls upon the ground: she, dirty, with unwashed clothes,\nsits and grows fat in a dung-heap.\" The woman like mud is thus hit\noff: \"This woman is ignorant of everything both good and bad; her only\naccomplishment is eating; cold though the winter be, she is too stupid\nto draw near the fire.\" Here is the woman who takes after the sea: \"She\nhas two minds; when she laughs and is glad, the stranger seeing her\nat home will give her praise--there is not a better woman than this\non the earth, no, nor a fairer; but another day she is unbearable,\nnot to be looked at or approached, but she is right mad. To friend\nand foe she is alike implacable and odious. Thus as the sea often is\ncalm and innocent, a great delight to sailors in summer-time, and\noftentimes again is frantic, tearing along with roaring billows; so\nis this woman in her temper.\" The woman who resembles a mare offers\nother disagreeable qualities. She is \"delicate and long-haired, unfit\nfor drudgery or toil: _she_ would not touch the mill or lift the sieve\nor clean the house out! She bathes twice or thrice a day, and smears\nherself with myrrh; then she wears her hair combed out, long and wavy,\ndecked with flowers. It follows that this woman is a rare sight to\none's guests, but to her husband she's a curse, unless he be a tyrant\nwho prides himself on such expensive luxuries.\" The ape-like wife is\ntreated even worse. But at last we reach the bee: \"The man who gets\nher is lucky; to her alone belongs no blame: his property thrives\nand increases under her; and loving with a loving helpmate she grows\nold, the mother of a fair and famous race. Such wives are the best\nand wisest Zeus grants to men.\" Yet even after this pretty picture\nSimonides winds up with a comprehensive condemnation of the female sex:\n\"Zeus made this supreme evil--women: even though they seem to be of\ngood, when one has got one, she becomes a plague.\"\n\nThe spirit of this invective is derived in a great measure from\nHesiod, whose myth of Pandora marked his estimate of women, and whose\nprecepts concerning the choice of a wife must have depressed the\nBoeotian bachelors with the certainty that nine women out of ten would\nprove a curse. This is precisely the proportion of bad to good that\nSimonides establishes. His tenth and virtuous wife is praised because\nshe is industrious and quiet, and the mother of many children. We here\nget the primitive ideal of the helpmeet for man. Modern theorists\nwould condemn it as the model of a slave. And it is certain that, as\nGreek civilization advanced, without a corresponding elevation of\nthe conception of wifehood, the chivalrous sentiment of the Greeks\nsought other channels than that of sexual love, exalting a form of\npassionate friendship between men as the real source of heroic action\nand inspiring thought.[74] The outline traced by Simonides was filled\nin by subsequent satirists. Susarion, the comic poet, makes this\ngrandiloquent proclamation: \"Hear, O ye people! These are the words of\nSusarion of Tripodiscus, Philinus's son, of Megara: Woman is a curse!\"\nAristophanes in his plays the _Lysistrata_, the _Thesmophoriazus\u00e6_,\nand the _Ecclesiazus\u00e6_, gives to the Athenian women all the attributes\nof the hog, the ape, the clay, the sea, and the fox; in the _Clouds_\nhe draws the picture of one who is like the old blood-mare; but he\ndoes not hint, even by way of parody, that there existed any bees.\nThe Greeks never learned the art of making women their companions\nin the noblest sense. It must, however, be borne in mind that the\nIonians were less civilized in this respect than the Dorians, who\nhad a higher regard for the excellences of women, and allowed them\ngreater liberty.[75] Simonides is expressing Ionian rather than Dorian\nsentiments, and at the same time may be reasonably supposed to be\noverstraining them for the sake of a burlesque effect.\n\nNext in date to Simonides among the iambographers ranks Hipponax of\nEphesus, who flourished about 540 B.C. He, too, was an Ionian. The\nsatire which Archilochus had directed against private enemies was\nextended, as we have seen, by Simonides to a whole sex; and thus its\npurely selfish character had been considerably modified. But Hipponax\nrestored it to its primitive function. He used the iambic as a weapon\nof personal attack; and as Archilochus had shot his arrows against\nLycambes and his daughters, so Hipponax found a butt in Bupalus and\nAthenis, sculptors of Chios. These two artists had begun by ridiculing\nthe poet, who was short and thin and ugly. They seem to have made\ncaricatures of him, piquing themselves, no doubt, upon the durability\nof the marble in which they worked. But they found more than their\nmatch in Hipponax, whose biting verses are said to have driven Bupalus\nto hang himself. Whether this is a mere echo of the tale of Lycambes\nremains doubtful; but, at any rate, the statues of the sculptor have\nperished, while the poet's iambics exist in sufficient force to justify\nhis reputation among the ancients for having been the most caustic,\ncrabbed, and sour of satirists. They called him #ho pikros# (the\npungent), and in their epigrams made merry over his traditional bad\ntemper. Leonidas of Tarentum, for instance, warns travellers not to\ntouch his tomb, lest they should rouse the sleeping wasp; and Alc\u00e6us\nof Messene says that no ivy, vine, or rose should adorn his grave, but\nonly thorns and thistles.\n\nIn order apparently to bring the metre still more within the sphere\nof prose and common speech, Hipponax ended his iambics with a spondee\nor a trochee instead of an iambus, doing thus the utmost violence to\nthe rhythmical structure. These deformed and mutilated verses were\ncalled #ch\u00f4liamboi# or #iamboi skazontes# (lame or limping iambics).\nThey communicate a curious crustiness to the style. The choliambi are\nin poetry what the dwarf or cripple is in human nature. Here again,\nby their acceptance of this halting metre, the Greeks displayed their\nacute \u00e6sthetic sense of propriety, recognizing the harmony which\nsubsists between crabbed verses and the distorted subjects with which\nthey dealt--the vices and perversions of humanity--as well as their\nagreement with the snarling spirit of the satirist. Deformed verse\nwas suited to deformed morality. Meanwhile it is but just to Hipponax\nto record that he appears to have been a sincere castigator of crime,\nextravagance, and folly. Without the sublime perfection and fervid\nenergy of Archilochus, he does not seem to have shared the unamiable\npersonal qualities of the greater poet. Two of his lines give a\nsufficient notion of his style:\n\n    #dy' h\u00eamerai gynaikos eisin h\u00eadistai,\n    hotan gam\u00eai tis kakpher\u00eai tethn\u00eakuian.#\n\nA woman gives two days of happiness to man, in her bridal and her\nburial.\n\nThe satire which these three Ionians, Archilochus, Simonides, and\nHipponax, inaugurated in Greece was continued by the Attic comic poets.\nSatire in the Roman and the modern sense of the term never flourished\namong the Greeks. The life of the Agora, the Ecclesia, and the Theatre\nwas too complete and free to need the supplement of rhetorical\ninvective intended either for reading or for recitation. Of satirical\ncomments upon individuals and of pasquinades of every kind the Greeks\nhad plenty. We hear, for example, that Alc\u00e6us exercised his poetical\ntalent in satirizing Pittacus, and one of the most considerable\nfragments of Anacreon contains a very ludicrous caricature of Artemon,\nhis rival for the affections of a certain yellow-haired Eurypyle. But\ntheir satire did not incline to the form which the earlier writers of\niambics had invented. It found its true sphere in the Dorian comedy\nof Epicharmus and the Athenian comedy of Aristophanes, who combined\nthe personalities of Archilochus and the generalities of Simonides in\nhis own consummate work of dramatic art. Among the lost treasures of\nGreek literature we have to regret few things more than the plays of\nthe Syracusan Epicharmus, from whom we might have learned directly\nwhat now we can only infer--that the Dorians, when uncontrolled by the\nsevere taste of Sparta, indulged a humor for drollery and sarcasm,\nwhich, though rougher than that of the Ionians, must have had its own\nflavor of raciness and fun. Roman satire maintained a strictly moral\nintention; _facit indignatio versus_ is the motto of Juvenal, while\nHorace holds the mirror of worldly philosophy to the follies and the\nvices of his age, and Persius applies the canons of Stoical ethics to\nthe phenomena of society as he observed them. This is the lead which\nour modern satirists--the Regnier of France, the Dryden or the Pope\nof England, have followed. Greek literature furnishes no specimen of\nthis species of composition. Wherever in the Comedies of Aristophanes,\nor the Dialogues of Lucian, or the Epigrams of the Anthology, we meet\nwith satire, we find the simple motives of Archilochus and Simonides\nat work. Personal animosity gives a barb and a venom to the shaft;\nor the poet delineates with more or less of comic wit the social\nanomalies that have struck his fancy. Of serious invective and of moral\npreaching, the Greeks, in their satiric art at least, knew nothing.\nPlato himself is only accidentally a satirist in the sense of the term\nwhich we moderns have adopted from the Romans.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[65] _On the Sublime_, xxxiii. 5.\n\n[66] _Rep._, 365, c.\n\n[67] _Anth. Pal._, vii. 674.\n\n[68] _Philostr. Bioi Soph._, 620.\n\n[69] x. 1. 60.\n\n[70] It was rage that armed Archilochus with his own iambic.\n\n[71] Bergk, _Poet\u00e6 Lyrici_, p. 696.\n\n[72] _Ib._ p. 689.\n\n[73] Bergk, p. 691:\n\n    Holding a myrtle-rod she blithely moved,\n    And a fair blossoming rose; the flowing hair\n    Shadowed her shoulders, falling to her girdle.\n\n[74] The degradation of women was undoubtedly the source of many of\nthe worst faults of the Greek race. Yet it is easy to overestimate the\nimportance of such satires as that of Simonides; nor would it be fair\nto take them as expressing the deliberate opinion of the nation. The\nJews, who gave a nobler place in social life to women, ascribed the\nfall of man to Eve. Modern literature again, in spite of Christianity\nand chivalry, is not wanting in epigrams like the following, ascribed\nto Leo Battista Alberti: \"Levity and inconstancy were given to women as\na counterbalance to their perfidy and badness; for, could woman stick\nto her purpose, she would destroy all the fair works of man.\"\n\n[75] Plutarch's _Life of Cleomenes_ contains two historical pictures of\nheroic wifehood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n_THE LYRIC POETS._\n\n    The \u00c6sthetic Instinct of the Greeks in their\n        Choice of Metres.--Different Species of\n        Lyrical Poetry.--The Fragments in Bergk's\n        Collection.--Proemia.--Prosodia.--Parthenia.--P\u00e6an.--\n        Hyporchem.--Dithyramb.--Phallic\n        Hymn.--Epinikia.--Threnoi.--Scolia.--\u00c6olian\n        and Dorian Lyrists.--The Flourishing Period of\n        Lesbos.--Sappho.--Alc\u00e6us.--Anacreon.--Nationality\n        of the Dorian Lyrists.--Spartan\n        Education.--Alcman.--Arion.--Stesichorus.--Ibycus.--Simonides.--\n        Greek Troubadours.--Style of Simonides.--Pindar.--Later\n        Literary Odes.\n\n\nTo compress into a single essay all that should be said about the Greek\nlyrical poets is impossible. Yet by eliminating the writers of elegies\nand iambics, who have been considered separately as gnomic poets and\nsatirists, the field is somewhat narrowed. Simonides of Amorgos,\nArchilochus, Theognis, Solon, not to mention lesser names, are by this\nprocess legitimately excluded. The \u00c6olian lyrists, with Sappho at\ntheir head, and the so-called Dorian lyrists, who culminate in Pindar,\nremain. Casting a glance backward into the remote shadows of antiquity,\nwe find that lyrical poetry, like all art in Greece, took its origin\nin connection with primitive Nature-worship. The song of Linus,[76]\nreferred to by Homer in his description of the shield of Achilles, was\na lament sung by reapers for the beautiful dead youth who symbolized\nthe decay of summer's prime.[77] In the funeral chant for Adonis,\nwomen bewailed the fleeting splendor of the spring; and Hyacinthus,\nloved and slain by Phoebus, whom the Laconian youths and maidens\nhonored, was again a type of vernal loveliness defloured. The Bacchic\nsongs of alternating mirth and sadness, which gave birth, through\nthe dithyramb, to tragedy, and through the Comus-hymn to comedy,\nmarked the waxing and the waning of successive years, the pulses\nof the heart of Nature, to which men listened as the months passed\nover them. In their dim beginnings these elements of Greek poetry\nare hardly to be distinguished from the dirges and the raptures of\nAsiatic ceremonial, in which the dance and chant and song were mingled\nin a vague monotony--generation after generation expressing the same\nemotions according to traditions handed down from their forefathers.\nBut the Greek genius was endowed with the faculty of distinguishing,\ndifferentiating, vitalizing, what the Oriental nations left hazy and\nconfused and inert. Therefore with the very earliest stirrings of\nconscious art in Greece we remark a powerful specializing tendency.\nArticulation succeeds to mere interjectional utterance. Separate\nforms of music and of metre are devoted, with the unerring instinct\nof a truly \u00e6sthetic race, to the expression of the several moods and\npassions of the soul. An unconscious psychology leads by intuitive\nanalysis to the creation of distinct branches of composition, each\naccurately adapted to its special purpose.\n\nFrom the very first commencement of their literature, the Greeks\nthus determined separate styles and established critical canons,\nwhich, though empirically and spontaneously formed, were based\non real relations between the moral and \u00e6sthetical sides of art,\nbetween feeling and expression, substance and form. The hexameter was\nconsecrated to epical narrative; the elegy was confined to songs of\nlament or meditation; the iambic assumed a satiric character. To have\nwritten a narrative in iambics or a satire in hexameters would have\nbeen odious to Greek taste; the stately march of the dactylic metre\nseemed unfit for snarling and invective; the quick flight of the iambic\ndid not carry weight enough or volume to sustain a lengthy narrative.\nIn the same way the infinite divisions of lyrical poetry had all their\nown peculiar properties. How could a poet have bewailed his loves\nor losses in the stately structure of the Pindaric ode? Conversely,\na hymn to Phoebus required more sonorousness and elaboration than\nthe recurring stanzas of the Sapphic or Alcaic offered. It was the\nbusiness, therefore, of the Greek poet, after duly considering his\nsubject, to select the special form of poetry consecrated by long usage\nfor his particular purpose; to conform his language to some species\nof music inseparable from that style, and then, within the prescribed\nlimits, both of metre and of melody, to exercise his imagination as\nfreely as he could, and to produce novelty. This amount of fixity in\nthe forms of poetry and music arose from the exquisite tact and innate\ntaste of the Greek race. It was far from being a piece of scholastic\npedantry or of Chinese conservatism. No; the diction, metre, and music\nof an elegy or an ode tended to assume a certain form as naturally as\nthe ingredients of a ruby or a sapphire crystallize into a crimson\nor an azure stone. The discrimination shown by the Greeks in all the\ntechnicalities of art remained in full vigor till the decline of their\nliterature. It was not until the Alexandrian age that they began to\nconfound these delicate distinctions, and to use the idyllic hexameter\nfor all subjects, whether narrative, descriptive, elegiac, encomiastic,\nhymeneal.[78] Then, and not till then, the Greeks descended to that\ndegradation of art which prevailed, for instance, in England during\nwhat we call the classic period of our literature. Under the influence\nof Dryden and of Pope, an English poet used no metre but the heroic\ncouplet, whether he were writing a play, an epigram, a satire, an epic,\nan eclogue, an elegy, or a didactic epistle; thus losing all elasticity\nof style, all the force which appropriate form communicates to thought.\n\nTo catalogue the minute subdivisions of the art of lyric poetry in\nGreece, to show how wisely their several limits were prescribed, how\nfirmly adhered to, and to trace the connection of choral song with\nall the affairs of public and private life, would be a task of some\nmagnitude. Colonel Mure, in a well-known passage, writes: \"From Olympus\ndown to the workshop or the sheep-fold, from Jove and Apollo to the\nwandering mendicant, every rank and degree of the Greek community,\ndivine or human, had its own proper allotment of poetical celebration.\nThe gods had their hymns, nomes, p\u00e6ans, dithyrambs; great men had\ntheir encomia and epinikia; the votaries of pleasure their erotica\nand symposiaca; the mourner his threnoi and elegies; the vine-dresser\nhad his epilenia; the herdsmen their bucolica; even the beggar his\neiresione and chelidonisma.\" Lyrical poetry in Greece was not produced,\nlike poetry in modern times, for the student, by men who find they have\na taste for versifying. It was intimately intertwined with actual life,\nand was so indispensable that every town had its professional poets\nand choruses, just as every church in Europe now has its organist,\nof greater or less pretension. The mass of lyrical poetry which must\nhave existed in Greece was probably enormous. We can only compare it\nto the quantity of church music that exists in Germany and Italy, in\nMS. and print, good, bad, and indifferent, unknown and unexplored, so\nvoluminous that no one ventures to sift it or reduce it to order. Of\nthis large mass we possess the fragments. Just as the rocky islands of\nthe \u00c6gean Archipelago testify to the existence of a submerged tract\nof mountain heights and valleys, whose summits alone appear above\nthe waves, so the odes of Pindar, the waifs and strays of Sappho,\nSimonides, and others, are evidences of the loss we have sustained.\nThey prove that beneath the ocean of time and oblivion remain forever\nburied stores of poetry which might have been sufficient to form the\nglory of a literature less rich in masterpieces than the Greek. To\ncollect the fragments, to piece them together, to ponder over them\nuntil their scattered indications offer some suggestion of the whole\nwhich has been lost, is all that remains for the modern student.\nLike the mutilated marbles of Praxiteles, chips broken off from\nbass-reliefs and statues, which are disinterred from the ruins of Rome\nor Herculaneum, the minutest portions of the Greek lyrists have their\nvalue. We must be thankful for any two words of Sappho that survive in\nauthentic juxtaposition, for any hemistich that may be veritably styled\na relic of \"some tender-hearted scroll of pure Simonides.\"\n\nChance has wrought fantastically with these relics. The lyrists,\neven in classical days, fell comparatively early into neglect. They\nwere too condensed in language, too difficult in style, too sublime\nin imagination for the pedants of the later empire. Long before its\nclose, Greek literature was oppressed with its own wealth; in the\nwords of Livy, _magnitudine laboravit sua_. Taste, too, began to\nchange; sophistic treatises, idyllic verses, novelettes in prose,\nneat epigrams, usurped upon the grander forms of composition. The\nstagnation, again, of civic life under imperial sway proved unfavorable\nto the composition of national odes and to choric celebrations in\nwhich whole peoples took a part. So disdainful in her alms-giving\nhas Fortune been, that she has only flung to us the epinikian odes\nof Pindar; while his hymns to the gods, his processional chants, and\nhis funeral dirges, are lost. Young Athens, Alexandria, and Byzantium\ncared, we may conceive, for poems which shed lustre on athletic sports\nand horse-racing. Trainers, boxers, riders, chariot-drivers--all the\nmuscular section of the public--had some interest in by-gone Pythian\nor Olympian victories. But who sought to preserve the antiquated\nhymns to Phoebus and to Zeus, when the rites of Isis and Serapis and\nthe Phrygian mother were in vogue? The outspoken boldness of the\nerotic and satiric lyrists stood them in bad stead. When Theodora\nwas exhibiting her naked charms in the arena, who could commend the\nstudy of Anacreon in the school-room? Degeneracy of public morals and\nprudery of literary taste go not unfrequently together. Therefore, the\nEmperor Julian proscribed Archilochus; and what Julian proscribed,\nthe Christians sought to extirpate. To destroy an ode of Sappho was\na good work. Consequently, we possess no complete edition of even a\nsection of the works of any lyrist except Pindar: what remains of the\nothers has been preserved in the works of critics, anecdote-mongers,\nand grammarians; who cite tantalizing passages to prove a rule in\nsyntax, to illustrate a legend or a custom, to exemplify a canon of\ntaste. Imbedded in ponderous prose, these splintered jewels escaped\nthe iconoclastic zeal of the monks. Thanks be to Athen\u00e6us above all\nmen (the author of an imaginary dialogue in fifteen bulky books on\nevery topic of Greek antiquity), to Longinus, to Philostratus, to\nMaximus Tyrius, to Plutarch the moralist, to Stob\u00e6us, to Heph\u00e6stion,\nto Herodian, and to the host of other Dryasdusts from whose heaps of\nshot rubbish Bergk and his predecessors have sorted out the fragments\nof extinguished stars! As a masterpiece of patient, self-denying,\nscientific, exhaustive investigation, the three volumes of Bergk are\nunrivalled. Every author of antiquity has been laid under contribution,\nsubjected to critical analysis, compared and confronted with his\nfellow-witnesses. The result, reduced to the smallest possible compass,\nyields a small glittering heap of pure gold-dust, a little handful of\nauriferous deposit sifted from numberless river-beds, crushed from\nhuge masses of unfertile quartz. In our admiration of the scholar's\ningenuity, we almost forget our sorrow for so much irreparable waste.\n\nBefore proceeding to consider the justice of the time-honored division\nof Greek lyrics into \u00c6olian and Dorian, it will be well to pass in\nreview a few of the principal classes into which Greek choral poetry\nmay be divided. Only thus can any idea of its richness and variety\nbe formed. The old Homeric #hymnoi#, or hymns dedicated to special\ndeities, were intended to be sung at festivals and rhapsodical\ncontests. Their technical name was proemia, or preludes--preludes, that\nis, to a longer recitation; and on this account, as they were chanted\nby the poet himself, they were written in hexameters. With them,\ntherefore, we have nothing here to do. Processional hymns, or prosodia,\non the contrary, were strictly lyrical, and constituted a large portion\nof the poetry of Pindar, Alcman, and Stesichorus. They were sung at\nsolemn festivals by troops of men and maidens walking, crowned with\nolive, myrtle, bay, or oleander, to the shrines. Their style varied\nwith the occasion and the character of the deity to whom they were\naddressed. When Hecuba led her maidens in dire necessity to the shrine\nof Pallas, the prosodion was solemn and earnest. When Sophocles, with\nlyre in hand, headed the chorus round the trophy of Salamis, it was\nvictorious and martial. If we wish to present to our mind a picture of\nthese processional ceremonies, we may study the frieze of the Parthenon\npreserved among the Elgin Marbles. Those long lines of maidens and\nyoung men, with baskets in their hands, with flowers and palm-branches,\nwith censers and sacred emblems, are marching to the sound of flutes\nand lyres, and to the stately rhythms of antiphonal chanting. When they\nreach the altar of the god, a halt is made; the libations are poured;\nand now the music changes to a solemn and spondaic measure--for the\nterm spondaic seems to be derived from the fact that the libation-hymn\nwas composed in a grave and heavy metre of full feet. Heph\u00e6stion has\npreserved a spondaic verse of Terpander which illustrates this rhythm:\n\n    #spend\u00f4men tais Mnamas\n    paisin M\u00f4sais\n    kai t\u00f4i M\u00f4sarch\u00f4i\n    Latous huiei.#[79]\n\nIn the age of Greek decadence the honors of the prosodion were\nsometimes paid to men. Athen\u00e6us gives this lively description of\nthe procession which greeted Demetrius Poliorketes: \"When Demetrius\nreturned from Leucadia and Corcyra to Athens, the Athenians received\nhim not only with incense and garlands and libations, but they even\nsent out processional choruses, and greeted him with ithyphallic hymns\nand dances: stationed by his chariot-wheels, they sang and danced and\nchanted that he alone was a real god; the rest were sleeping, or were\non a journey, or did not exist; they called him son of Poseidon and\nAphrodite, eminent for beauty, universal in his goodness to mankind;\nthen they prayed and besought and supplicated him like a god.\" The hymn\nwhich they sang may be read in Bergk, vol. iii. p. 1314. It is one of\nthe most interesting relics of antiquity.[80]\n\nFor the sake of its rare and curious metre alternating the iambic and\ntrochaic rhythms, I have faced the difficulties of translation, and\nhave ventured on the following version:\n\n    See how the mightiest gods, and best-beloved\n        Towards our town are winging!\n    For lo, Demeter and Demetrius\n        This glad day is bringing!\n    She to perform her daughter's solemn rites;\n        Mystic pomps attend her:\n    He, joyous as a god should be, and blithe,\n        Comes with laughing splendor.\n    Show forth your triumph! Friends all, troop around!\n        Let him shine above you!\n    Be you the stars to circle him with love;\n        He's the sun to love you.\n    Hail, offspring of Poseidon, powerful god,\n        Child of Aphrodite!\n    The other gods keep far away from earth;\n        Have no ears, though mighty;\n    They are not, or they will not hear us wail:\n        Thee our eye beholdeth;\n    Not wood, not stone, but living, breathing, real,\n        Thee our prayer enfoldeth.\n    First give us peace! Give, dearest, for thou canst:\n        Thou art Lord and Master!\n\n\n    The Sphinx, who not on Thebes, but on all Greece\n        Swoops to gloat and pasture;\n    The \u00c6tolian, he who sits upon his rock,\n        Like that old disaster;\n    He feeds upon our flesh and blood, and we\n        Can no longer labor;\n    For it was ever thus the \u00c6tolian thief\n        Preyed upon his neighbor;\n    Him punish thou, or if not thou, then send\n        Oedipus to harm him,\n    Who'll cast this Sphinx down from his cliff of pride,\n        Or to stone will charm him.\n\nA special kind of prosodia were the Parthenia, or processional hymns\nof maidens; such, for example, as the Athenian girls sang to Pallas\nwhile they climbed the staircase of the Parthenon. Aristophanes has\npresented us with a beautiful example of antiphonal Parthenia at\nthe end of his _Lysistrata_, where choruses of Athenian and Spartan\ngirls sing turn and turn about in rivalry. Alcman won his laurels at\nSparta by the composition of this kind of hymn. A fragment (Bergk,\np. 842) only remains to show what they were like: \"No more, ye\nhoney-voiced, sweet-singing maidens, can my limbs support me: oh,\noh, that I were a cerylus, who skims the flower of the sea with\nhalcyons, of a dauntless heart, the sea-blue bird of spring!\" Such\nParthenia, when addressed to Phoebus, were called Daphnephorica; for\nthe maidens carried laurel-branches to his shrine. A more charming\npicture cannot be conceived than that which is presented to our fancy\nby these white-robed virgins, each with her rod of bay and crown of\nlaurel-leaves, ascending the marble steps of the temple of the Dorian\ngod. John Lyly, who had imbibed the spirit of Greek life, has written a\nhymn, \"Sing to Apollo, god of day!\" which might well have been used at\nsuch a festival.\n\nThe prosodia of which we have been speaking were addressed to all\nthe gods. But there were other choric hymns with special names,\nconsecrated to the service of particular deities. Of this sort was the\np\u00e6an, sung to Phoebus in his double character of a victorious and\na healing god. The p\u00e6an was both a song of war and of peace; it was\nthe proper accompaniment of the battle and the feast. In like manner\nthe hyporchem, which, as its name implies, was always accompanied\nby a dance, originally formed a portion of the cult of Phoebus. The\nchorus described in the _Iliad_, xviii. 590, and the glorious pageant\nof Olympus celebrated in the _Hymn to Apollo_, 186, were, technically\nspeaking, hyporchems. As the p\u00e6an and the hyporchem were originally\nconsecrated to Apollo, so the dithyramb and the phallic hymn belonged\nto Dionysus. The dithyramb never lost the tempestuous and enthusiastic\ncharacter of Bacchic revelry; but in time it grew from being a wild\ncelebration of the mystic sufferings of Bacchus into the sublime art\nof tragedy. Arion forms the point of this transition. He seems to\nhave thrown a greater reality of passion and dramatic action into\nhis choruses, which led to the introduction of dialogue, and so by\ndegrees to tragedy proper. Meanwhile the dithyramb, as a tumultuous\nchoric song, retained its individual existence. As Arion had devoted\nhis genius to the cultivation of the tragic or cyclic chorus, Lasos,\nthe master of Pindar, stamped his own style upon the dithyrambic ode\nas it continued to be used at festive meetings. Every town in Greece\nhad its chorodidascalus, a functionary whom Aristophanes ridicules in\nthe person of Kinesias in the _Birds_.[81] He is introduced warbling\nthe wildest, windiest nonsense, and entreating to have a pair of\nwings given him that he may chase his airy ideas through the sky.\nThe phallic hymn, from which in like manner comedy took its origin,\nwas a mad outpouring of purely animal exultation. Here the wine-god\nwas celebrated as the pleasure-loving, drunken, lascivious deity.\nAristophanes, again, our truest source of information respecting all\nthe details of Greek life, supplies us with an instance of one of these\nsongs, and of the simple rites which accompanied its performance.[82]\nIn the _Frogs_, also, the Master of Comedy has presented us with an\nelaborate series of Bacchic hymns.[83] Here the phallic and satyric\nelement is combined with something of the grandeur of the dithyrambic\node; the curious mixture of sarcasm, obscenity, and splendid\npoetry offers a striking instance of Greek religious feeling, so\nincomprehensible to modern minds. It is greatly to be regretted that\nour information respecting the dithyramb and the phallic chorus has to\nbe obtained from a dramatic poet rather than from any perfect specimens\nof these compositions. Bergk's Collection, full as it is, yields\nnothing but hints and fragments.[84]\n\nPassing to the lyrics, which were connected with circumstances of human\nlife, the first to be mentioned are epinikia, or odes sung in honor of\nvictors at the games. Of these, in the splendid series of Pindar and in\nthe fragments of Simonides, we have abundant examples. We are also able\nto trace their development from the simple exclamation of #t\u00eanella \u00f4\nkallinike#,[85] the composition of which was ascribed to Archilochus,\nand which Pindar looked back upon with scornful triumph. Indeed, in his\nhands, to use the phrase of Wordsworth, \"the thing became a trumpet,\nwhence he blew soul-animating strains.\" The epinikian ode was the most\ncostly and splendid flower in the victor's wreath. Pindar compares\nthe praise which he pours forth for Diagoras the Rhodian to noblest\nwine foaming in the golden goblet, which a father gives to honor his\nson-in-law, the prime and jewel of his treasure-house.\n\nThe occasions on which such odes were sung were various--either when\nthe victor was being crowned, or when he was returning to his native\ncity, or by torchlight during the evening of the victorious day, or at\na banquet after his reception in his home. On one of these occasions\nthe poet would appear with his trained band of singers and musicians,\nand, taking his stand by the altar of the god to whom the victor\noffered a thanksgiving sacrifice, would guide the choric stream of\nsong through strophe and antistrophe and epode, in sonorous labyrinths\nof eulogy and mythological allusion--prayer, praise, and admonition\nmingling with the fumes of intoxicating poetry. Of all these occasions\nthe most striking must have been the commemoration of a victory in\nthe temple of Zeus at Altis, near Olympia, by moonlight. The contest\nhas taken place during the day; and the olive-wreath has been placed\nupon the head, say, of Myronides, from Thebes. Having rested from his\nlabors, after the bath and the banquet, crowned with his victorious\ngarland and with fillets bound about his hair, he stands surrounded\nby his friends. Zeus, in ivory and gold, looks down from his marble\npedestal. Through the open roof shines a moon of the south, glancing\naslant on statue and column and carved bass-relief; while below, the\nred glare of torches, paling its silver, flickers with fitful crimson\non the glowing faces of young men. Then swells the choral hymn, with\npraise of Myronides and praise of Thebes, and stormy flights of\nfancy shooting beyond sun and stars. At its close follow libation,\ndedication, hands upraised in prayer to Zeus. Then the trampling of\nsandalled feet upon the marble floor, the procession with songs still\nsounding to the temple-gate, and on a sudden, lo! the full moon, the\nhills and plain and solemn night of stars. The band disperses, and the\nComus succeeds to the thanksgiving.\n\nAs a contrast to the epinikia we may take the different kinds of\nthrenoi, or funeral songs. The most primitive was called epikedeion,\na dirge or coronach, improvised by women over the bodies of the\ndead.[86] The lamentations of Helen and Andromache for Hector, and\nof the slave-girls for Patroclus, are Homeric instances of this\nspecies. Euripides imitates them in his tragedies--in the dirge sung\nby Antigone, for instance, in the _Phoeniss\u00e6_, and in the wailings\nof Hecuba for Astyanax in the _Troades_. A different kind of threnos\nwere the songs of Linus, Hyacinth, Adonis, and others, to which I\nhave already alluded in the beginning of this chapter. The finest\nextant specimen of this sort is Bion's _Lament for Adonis_, which,\nhowever, was composed in the idyllic age, when the hexameter had been\nsubstituted for the richer and more splendid lyric metres. A third\nclass of threnos consisted of complex choral hymns composed by poets\nlike Simonides or Pindar, to be sung at funeral solemnities. Many of\nour most precious lyric fragments, those which embody philosophical\nreflections on life and dim previsions of another world, belong to\ndirges of this elaborate kind.\n\nMarriage festivals offered another occasion for lyric poetry. The\nhymeneal, sung during the wedding ceremony, the epithalamium, chanted\nat the house of the bridegroom, and many other species, have been\ndefined by the grammarians. Unfortunately we possess nothing but the\nmerest _d\u00e9bris_ of any true Greek ode of this kind. Sappho's are\nthe best. We have to study the imitations of her style in Catullus,\nthe marriage chorus at the end of the _Birds_ of Aristophanes, and\nthe epithalamium of Helen by Theocritus, in order to form a remote\nconception of what a Sapphic marriage chorus might have been. In\nbanquet songs we are more fortunate. Abundant are the paroenia of\nAlc\u00e6us, Anacreon, Theognis, and others. Scolia, or catches, so called\nfrom their irregular metrical structure, were also in vogue at\nbanquets; and of these popular songs a sufficient number are preserved.\nA drunken passage in the works of Aristophanes brings before us\nafter a lively fashion the ceremonies with which the scolion and the\nwine-cup circled the symposium together.[87] Of all these catches the\nmost celebrated in ancient days was the panegyric of Harmodius and\nAristogeiton, attributed to Callistratus. As I have the opportunity\nof printing from MS. a translation of this song by the late Professor\nConington, I will introduce it here:\n\n    In a wreath of myrtle I'll wear my glaive,\n    Like Harmodius and Aristogeiton brave,\n      Who, striking the tyrant down,\n      Made Athens a freeman's town.\n\n    Harmodius, our darling, thou art not dead!\n    Thou liv'st in the isles of the blest, 'tis said,\n      With Achilles first in speed,\n      And Tydides Diomede.\n\n    In a wreath of myrtle I'll wear my glaive,\n    Like Harmodius and Aristogeiton brave,\n      When the twain on Athena's day\n      Did the tyrant Hipparchus slay.\n\n    For aye shall your fame in the land be told,\n    Harmodius and Aristogeiton bold,\n      Who, striking the tyrant down,\n      Made Athens a freeman's town.\n\nThe whole collection of scolia in Bergk (pp. 1287-1296) is full of\ninterest, since these simple and popular songs carry us back more\nfreshly than elaborate poems to the life of the Greeks. One of these,\nattributed to Simonides, sums up the qualities which a Greek most\ndesired:\n\n    #hygiainein men ariston andri thnat\u00f4i,\n    deuteron de phyan kalon genesthai,\n    to triton de ploutein adol\u00f4s,\n    kai to tetarton h\u00eaban meta t\u00f4n phil\u00f4n.#[88]\n\nUnlike Solomon, when asked what he would take from the Lord as a gift,\nthe Greek poet does not answer Wisdom, but first Health, secondly\nBeauty, thirdly Wealth untainted by fraud, and fourthly Youth in the\nsociety of friends. The last thought of this little poem is expanded\nvery beautifully in another scolion:\n\n    #syn moi pine, syn\u00eaba, synera, systephan\u00eaphorei,\n    syn moi mainomen\u00f4i maineo, syn s\u00f4phroni s\u00f4phronei#:\n\n\"Drink with me, be young with me, love with me, wear crowns with me,\nwhen I am mad be mad with me, be wise with me when I am wise.\" The verb\n#syn\u00eaban# is almost untranslatable. Of another kind is the scolion\nof Hybrias the Cretan, translated thus into English verse by Thomas\nCampbell:\n\n    My wealth's a burly spear and brand,\n    And a right good shield of hides untanned,\n        Which on my arm I buckle:\n    With these I plough, I reap, I sow,\n    With these I make the sweet vintage flow,\n        And all around me truckle.\n\n    But your wights that take no pride to wield\n    A massy spear and well-made shield,\n        Nor joy to draw the sword:\n    Oh, I bring those heartless, hapless drones,\n    Down in a trice on their marrow-bones,\n        To call me king and lord.\n\nThis catch brings before our eyes in a very lively picture the lawless\nFreiherr of early Dorian barbarism. Another species of the scolion is\nmore sentimental: \"Would that I were a fair lyre of ivory, and that\nfair boys bore me to the Bacchic Choir; would that I were a fair,\nnew, and mighty golden jar, and that a fair woman bore me with a\npure heart.\" Again, we find moral precepts in these catches. \"Whoso\nbetrayeth not a friend hath great honor among men and gods, according\nto my mind.\"\n\nWhile on the subject of scolia, it will not do to pass over the most\nsplendid specimen we have in this order of composition. It is a\nfragment from Pindar (Bergk, p. 327), to translate which, I feel, is\nprofanation:\n\n    O soul, 'tis thine in season meet,\n    To pluck of love the blossom sweet,\n        When hearts are young:\n    But he who sees the blazing beams,\n    The light that from _that_ forehead streams,\n        And is not stung;--\n    Who is not storm-tost with desire,--\n    Lo! he, I ween, with frozen fire,\n    Of adamant or stubborn steel,\n    Is forged in his cold heart that cannot feel.\n\n    Disowned, dishonored, and denied\n    By Aphrodite glittering-eyed,\n        He either toils\n    All day for gold, a sordid gain,\n    Or bent beneath a woman's reign,\n        In petty broils,\n    Endures her insolence, a drudge,\n    Compelled the common path to trudge;\n    But I, apart from this disease,\n    Wasting away like wax of holy bees,\n    Which the sun's splendor wounds, do pine,\n    Whene'er I see the young-limbed bloom divine\n    Of boys. Lo! look you well; for here in Tenedos,\n    Grace and Persuasion dwell in young Theoxenos.\n\nOf the many different kinds of lyric poetry consecrated to love and\nintended for recitation by single musicians, it is not possible to give\na strict account. That the Greeks cultivated the serenade is clear\nfrom a passage in the _Ecclesiazus\u00e6_ of Aristophanes, which contains\na graceful though gross specimen of this kind of song. The children's\nsongs (Bergk, 1303-1307) about flowers, tortoises, and hobgoblins are\ntoo curiously illustrative of Greek manners not to merit a passing\nnotice, nor can I here omit a translation of the only Swallow-song\npreserved to us. Athen\u00e6us, to whom we owe this curious relic, localizes\nthe Chelidonisma in Rhodes, referring it particularly to the district\nof Lindus.[89] In spring time the children went round the town,\ncollecting doles and presents from house to house, and singing as they\nwent:\n\n    She is here, she is here, the swallow!\n    Fair seasons bringing, fair years to follow!\n          Her belly is white,\n          Her back black as night!\n          From your rich house\n          Roll forth to us\n          Tarts, wine, and cheese:\n          Or if not these,\n          Oatmeal and barley-cake\n          The swallow deigns to take.\n\n    What shall we have? or must we hence away?\n    Thanks, if you give; if not, we'll make you pay!\n          The house-door hence we'll carry;\n          Nor shall the lintel tarry;\n          From hearth and home your wife we'll rob;\n          She is so small,\n          To take her off will be an easy job!\n    Whate'er you give, give largess free!\n    Up! open, open to the swallow's call!\n    No grave old men, but merry children we!\n\nAfter this lengthy, but far from exhaustive, enumeration of the kinds\nand occasions of lyrical poetry in Greece, we may turn to consider\nthe different parts played in their cultivation by the several chief\nfamilies of Hellas. It is remarkable that all the great writers of\nelegies and iambics were Ionians; Theognis of Megara is the only Dorian\nwhose genuine poems are celebrated; and against his we have to set\nthe bulk of Solon, Mimnermus, Phocylides, Callinus, and Tyrt\u00e6us, all\nIonians.[90] Not a single Dorian poet seems to have composed iambics,\nthe rigid discipline and strong sense of decorum in a Dorian state\nprobably rendering the cultivation of satire impossible. We are told\nthat the Spartans would not even suffer Archilochus to lodge as a\nstranger among them. But when we turn to lyric poetry--to the poetry of\nstanzas and strophes--the two other families of the Greeks, the \u00c6olians\nand the Dorians, take the lead. As a Dorian was exceptional among\nthe elegists, so now an Ionian will be comparatively rare among the\nlyrists. So great was the \u00e6sthetical conservatism of the Greeks that\nthroughout their history their primitive distinctions of dialect are\nnever lost sight of. When the Athenians developed tragedy, they wrote\ntheir iambics in pure Attic, but they preserved a Dorian tone in their\nchoruses. The epic hexameter and the elegy, on the other hand, retained\nan Ionian character to the last.\n\nThe paths struck out by the \u00c6olians and Dorians in the domain of lyric\npoetry were so different as to justify us in speaking of two distinct\nspecies. When Milton in the _Paradise Regained_ catalogued the poetical\nachievements of the Greeks, he assigned their true place to these two\nspecies in the line--\n\n    \u00c6olian charms and Dorian lyric odes.\n\nThe poets and poetesses of the \u00c6gean Islands cultivated a rapid and\neffusive style, polishing their passionate stanzas so exquisitely that\nthey well deserve the name of charms. The Dorian poets, inspired by a\ngraver and more sustained imagination, composed long and complex odes\nfor the celebration of gods and heroes. The \u00c6olian singer dwelt on his\nown joys and sorrows; the Dorian bard addressed some deity, or told the\ntales of demigods and warriors. The \u00c6olian chanted his stanzas to the\nlyre or flute; the Dorian trained a chorus, who gave utterance to his\nverse in dance and song.\n\nThough the \u00c6olians were the eldest family of the Hellenic stock, their\nlanguage retaining more than any other dialect the primitive character\nof the Greek tongue, yet they never rose to such historical importance\nas the Dorians and Ionians. Geographically they were scattered in\nsuch a way as to have no definite centre. We find \u00c6olians in Elis, in\nBoeotia, in Lesbos, and on the Asian sea-coast south of the Troad.\nBut in course of time the \u00c6olians of Elis and Boeotia were almost\nidentified with the Dorians as allies of Sparta, while the \u00c6olians of\nLesbos and Asia merged themselves in the Athenian empire. Politically,\nmentally, and morally, they showed less activity than their cousins of\nthe blood of Dorus and Ion. They produced no law-givers like Lycurgus\nand Solon; they had no metropolis like Sparta and Athens; they played\nno prominent part in the struggle with Persia, or in the Peloponnesian\nwar. In the later days of Greece, Thebes, when Dorized by contact with\nthe Spartans, for a short time headed Greece, and flourished with\nbrief splendor. But it would not be accurate to give to the \u00c6olian\ncharacter the credit of the fame of Thebes at that advanced period.\nYet, for a certain space of time, the \u00c6olians occupied the very\nforeground of Greek literature, and blazed out with a brilliance of\nlyrical splendor that has never been surpassed. There seems to have\nbeen something passionate and intense in their temperament, which made\nthe emotions of the Dorian and the Ionian feeble by comparison. Lesbos,\nthe centre of \u00c6olian culture, was the island of overmastering passions:\nthe personality of the Greek race burned there with a fierce and\nsteady flame of concentrated feeling. The energies which the Ionians\ndivided between pleasure, politics, trade, legislation, science, and\nthe arts, and which the Dorians turned to war and state-craft and\nsocial economy, were restrained by the \u00c6olians within the sphere of\nindividual emotions, ready to burst forth volcanically. Nowhere in\nany age of Greek history, or in any part of Hellas, did the love of\nphysical beauty, the sensibility to radiant scenes of nature, the\nconsuming fervor of personal feeling, assume such grand proportions and\nreceive so illustrious an expression as they did in Lesbos. At first\nthis passion blossomed into the most exquisite lyrical poetry that the\nworld has known: this was the flower-time of the \u00c6olians, their brief\nand brilliant spring. But the fruit it bore was bitter and rotten.\nLesbos became a byword for corruption. The passions which for a moment\nhad flamed into the gorgeousness of art, burning their envelope of\nwords and images, remained a mere furnace of sensuality, from which\nno expression of the divine in human life could be expected. In this\nthe Lesbian poets were not unlike the Proven\u00e7al troubadours, who made\na literature of love, or the Venetian painters, who based their art\nupon the beauty of color, the voluptuous charms of the flesh. In each\ncase the motive of enthusiastic passion sufficed to produce a dazzling\nresult. But as soon as its freshness was exhausted there was nothing\nleft for art to live on, and mere decadence to sensuality ensued.\n\nSeveral circumstances contributed to aid the development of lyric\npoetry in Lesbos. The customs of the \u00c6olians permitted more social\nand domestic freedom than was common in Greece. \u00c6olian women were\nnot confined to the harem like Ionians, or subjected to the rigorous\ndiscipline of the Spartans. While mixing freely with male society, they\nwere highly educated, and accustomed to express their sentiments to an\nextent unknown elsewhere in history--until, indeed, the present time.\nThe Lesbian ladies applied themselves successfully to literature. They\nformed clubs for the cultivation of poetry and music. They studied the\narts of beauty, and sought to refine metrical forms and diction. Nor\ndid they confine themselves to the scientific side of art. Unrestrained\nby public opinion, and passionate for the beautiful, they cultivated\ntheir senses and emotions, and indulged their wildest passions. All\nthe luxuries and elegances of life which that climate and the rich\nvalleys of Lesbos could afford were at their disposal; exquisite\ngardens, where the rose and hyacinth spread perfume; river-beds ablaze\nwith the oleander and wild pomegranate; olive-groves and fountains,\nwhere the cyclamen and violet flowered with feathery maiden-hair;\npine-tree-shadowed coves, where they might bathe in the calm of a\ntideless sea; fruits such as only the southern sun and sea-wind can\nmature; marble cliffs, starred with jonquil and anemone in spring,\naromatic with myrtle and lentisk and samphire and wild rosemary through\nall the months; nightingales that sang in May; temples dim with dusky\ngold and bright with ivory; statues and frescos of heroic forms. In\nsuch scenes as these the Lesbian poets lived, and thought of love. When\nwe read their poems, we seem to have the perfumes, colors, sounds, and\nlights of that luxurious land distilled in verse. Nor was a brief but\nbiting winter wanting to give tone to their nerves, and, by contrast\nwith the summer, to prevent the palling of so much luxury on sated\nsenses. The voluptuousness of \u00c6olian poetry is not like that of Persian\nor Arabian art. It is Greek in its self-restraint, proportion, tact.\nWe find nothing burdensome in its sweetness. All is so rhythmically\nand sublimely ordered in the poems of Sappho that supreme art lends\nsolemnity and grandeur to the expression of unmitigated passion.\n\nThe world has suffered no greater literary loss than the loss of\nSappho's poems. So perfect are the smallest fragments preserved in\nBergk's _Collection_--the line, for example (p. 890), #\u00earos angelos\nimeroph\u00f4nos a\u00ead\u00f4n#,[91] which Ben Jonson fancifully translated, \"the\ndear glad angel of the spring, the nightingale\"--that we muse in a\nsad rapture of astonishment to think what the complete poems must\nhave been. Among the ancients Sappho enjoyed a unique renown. She\nwas called \"The Poetess,\" as Homer was called \"The Poet.\" Aristotle\nquoted without question a judgment that placed her in the same rank\nas Homer and Archilochus. Plato in the _Ph\u00e6drus_ mentioned her as the\ntenth muse. Solon, hearing one of her poems, prayed that he might not\nsee death till he had learned it. Strabo speaks of her genius with\nreligious awe. Longinus cites her love-ode as a specimen of poetical\nsublimity. The epigrammatists call her Child of Aphrodite and Eros,\nnursling of the Graces and Persuasion, pride of Hellas, peer of Muses,\ncompanion of Apollo. Nowhere is a hint whispered that her poetry was\naught but perfect. As far as we can judge, these praises were strictly\njust. Of all the poets of the world, of all the illustrious artists\nof all literatures, Sappho is the one whose every word has a peculiar\nand unmistakable perfume, a seal of absolute perfection and inimitable\ngrace. In her art she was unerring. Even Archilochus seems commonplace\nwhen compared with her exquisite rarity of phrase.\n\nAbout her life--her brother Charaxus, her daughter Cleis, her rejection\nof Alc\u00e6us and her suit to Phaon, her love for Atthis and Anactoria,\nher leap from the Leucadian cliff--we know so very little, and that\nlittle is so confused with mythology and turbid with the scandal of\nthe comic poets, that it is not worth while to rake up once again\nthe old materials for hypothetical conclusions. There is enough of\nheart-devouring passion in Sappho's own verse without the legends of\nPhaon and the cliff of Leucas. The reality casts all fiction into the\nshade; for nowhere, except, perhaps, in some Persian or Proven\u00e7al\nlove-songs, can be found more ardent expressions of overmastering\nemotion. Whether addressing the maidens, whom even in Elysium, as\nHorace says, Sappho could not forget; or embodying the profounder\nyearnings of an intense soul after beauty, which has never on earth\nexisted, but which inflames the hearts of noblest poets, robbing their\neyes of sleep and giving them the bitterness of tears to drink--these\ndazzling fragments,\n\n    Which still, like sparkles of Greek fire,\n    Burn on through time and ne'er expire,\n\nare the ultimate and finished forms of passionate utterance, diamonds,\ntopazes, and blazing rubies, in which the fire of the soul is\ncrystallized forever. Adequately to translate Sappho was beyond the\npower of even Catullus: that love-ode which Longinus called \"not one\npassion, but a congress of passions,\" and which a Greek physician\ncopied into his book of diagnoses as a compendium of all the symptoms\nof corroding emotion, appears but languid in its Latin dress of \"Ille\nmi par.\" Far less has any modern poet succeeded in the task: Rossetti,\nwho deals so skilfully with Dante and Villon, is comparatively tame\nwhen he approaches Sappho. Instead of attempting, therefore, to\ninterpret for English readers the charm of Sappho's style,[92] it is\nbest to refer to pp. 874-924 of Bergk, where every vestige that is left\nof her is shrined.\n\nBeside Sappho, Alc\u00e6us pales. His drinking-songs and war-songs have,\nindeed, great beauty; but they are not to be named in the same breath,\nfor perfection of style, with the stanzas of Sappho. Of his life we\nknow a few not wholly uninteresting incidents. He was a noble of\nMitylene, the capital of Lesbos, where he flourished as early as 611\nB.C. Alc\u00e6us belonged to a family of distinguished men. His brothers\nCicis and Antimenidas upheld the party of the oligarchy against the\ntyrant Melanchrus; and during the troubles which agitated Mitylene\nafter the fall of this despot, while other petty tyrants--Myrsilus,\nMegalagyrus, and the Cleanactids--were attempting to subdue the island,\nthe three brothers ranged themselves uniformly on the side of the\naristocracy. At first they seem to have been friendly with Pittacus.\nIt was while fighting at his side against the Athenians at Sigeum that\nAlc\u00e6us threw his shield away--- an exploit which, like Archilochus,\nhe celebrated in a poem without apparently damaging his reputation\nfor valor. Being a stout soldier, a violent partisan, the bard of\nrevolutions, and the brother of a pair of heroes, he could trifle with\nthis little accident, which less doughty warriors must have concealed.\nWhen Pittacus was chosen \u00c6symnetes, or dictator with despotic power for\nthe preservation of public order, in 589 B.C., Alc\u00e6us and his brothers\nwent into opposition and were exiled. All three of them were what\nin modern politics we should call High Tories. They could not endure\nthe least approach to popular government, the slightest infringement\nof the rights of the nobility. During his exile Alc\u00e6us employed his\npoetic faculty in vituperating Pittacus. His satires were esteemed\nalmost as pungent as those of Archilochus. But the liberal-minded ruler\ndid not resent them. When Alc\u00e6us was on one occasion taken prisoner,\nhe set him free, remarking that \"forgiveness is better than revenge.\"\nAlc\u00e6us lived to be reconciled with him and to recognize his merits.\nAs a trait in the domestic life and fortunes of the Greeks of this\ntime, it is worth mentioning that Alc\u00e6us took refuge in Egypt during\nhis banishment from Lesbos, and that his brother Antimenidas entered\nthe service of the king of Babylon. In the same way two Englishmen in\nthe times of the Edwards might have travelled in Germany or become\nsoldiers of the Republic of Florence. Of the Greek oligarch who lent\nhis sword to Nebuchadnezzar--in his wars, perhaps, against Jehoiakim\nor Pharaoh-Necho--we get a curious glimpse. Alc\u00e6us greeted him on his\nreturn in a poem of which we possess a fragment, and which may be\nparaphrased thus:\n\n    From the ends of the earth thou art come\n    Back to thy home;\n    The ivory hilt of thy blade\n    With gold is embossed and inlaid;\n    Since for Babylon's host a great deed\n    Thou didst work in their need,\n    Slaying a warrior, an athlete of might,\n    Royal, whose height\n    Lacked of five cubits one span--\n    A terrible man.\n\nWe can fancy with what delight and curiosity Alc\u00e6us, who, as may\nbe gathered from his poems, was an amateur of armor, examined this\nsword-handle, wrought perhaps from Ethiopian tusks by Egyptian artists,\nwith lotos-flowers or patterns of crocodiles, monkeys, and lions. This\nstory of the polished Greek citizen's adventure among the Jews and\nEgyptians, known to us through Holy Writ, touches our imagination with\nthe same strange sense of novelty as when we read of the Persian poet\nS\u00e2dy, a slave in the camp of Richard Coeur de Lion's Crusaders.\n\nConsidering the life Alc\u00e6us led, it is not strange that he should\nhave sung of arms and civic struggles. Many fragments, preserved in\nall probability from the _Stasiotica_, or Songs of Sedition, which\nwere very popular among the ancients, throw light upon the stormier\npassages of his history. One of these pieces[93] describes the poet's\narmory--his polished helmets and white horse-hair plumes, the burnished\nbrazen greaves that hang upon the wall, the linen breastplates and\nbucklers thrown in heaps about the floor, with Chalkidian blades and\ngirdles and tunics. The most striking point about this fragment is its\nfoppery. Alc\u00e6us spares no pains to make us know how bright his armor\nis, how carefully his greaves are fixed against the wall by pegs you\ncannot see (#passalois kryptoisi perikeimenai#), how carelessly the\ngirdles and small gear are tossed about in sumptuous disarray. The poem\nseems to reveal a luxurious nature delighting in military millinery. No\nDorian would have described his weapons from this point of view, but\nwould have rather told us how often they had been used with effect in\nthe field. The \u00c6olian character is here tempered with Orientalism.\n\nOf the erotic poems of Alc\u00e6us, only a very few and inconsiderable\nfragments have survived. Horace says of them, addressing his lyre:\n\n    Lesbio primum modulate civi,\n    Qui ferox bello, tamen inter arma,\n    Sive jactatam relig\u00e2rat udo\n        Littore navim,\n    Liberum et Musas Veneremque et illi\n    Semper h\u00e6rentem puerum canebat;\n    Et Lycum nigris oculis nigroque\n        Crine decorum.[94]\n\nOf Lycus we only know, on the authority of Cicero,[95] that he had\na wart upon the finger, which Alc\u00e6us praised in one of his poems.\nIt has also been conjectured that the line #oinos, \u00f4 phile pai,\nkai alathea#--\"wine, dear boy, and truth\"--which Theocritus quotes\nas a proverb at the beginning of his \u00c6olic Idyl, was addressed to\nLycus. A fragment of far greater interest is the couplet preserved\nby Heph\u00e6stion,[96] in which Alc\u00e6us calls on Sappho by her name:\n\"Violet-crowned, pure, sweet-smiling Sappho! I want to say something,\nbut shame prevents me.\" To this declaration Sappho replied: \"If thy\nwishes were fair and noble, and thy tongue designed not to utter what\nis base, shame would not cloud thine eyes, but thou wouldst speak thy\njust desires.\" This is all we know about the love-passages between the\ngreatest lyrists of the \u00c6olian school. In this way do the ancient\ncritics tantalize us. Aristotle,[97] in order to illustrate a moral\nproposition, Heph\u00e6stion, with a view to proving a metrical rule, fling\nthese scraps of their wealth forth, little dreaming that after twenty\ncenturies the men of new nations and other thoughts will eagerly\ncollect the scraps, and long for more of that which might have been so\nfreely lavished. Whether Sappho wrote her reply in maidenly modesty\nbecause the advances of Alc\u00e6us were really dishonorable, or whether she\naffected indignation to conceal a personal dislike for the poet, we\ncannot say. Aristotle or Heph\u00e6stion might, probably, have been able to\ntell us. But the one was only thinking of the signs of shame, while the\nattention of the other was riveted upon the \"so-called _dodecasyllable\nAlcaic_.\"\n\nThe most considerable remains of the lyrics of Alc\u00e6us are\ndrinking-songs--praises of wine, combined with reflections upon life\nand appropriate descriptions of the different seasons. No time was\namiss for drinking, to his mind: the heat of summer, the cold of\nwinter, the blazing dog-star and the driving tempest, twilight with\nits cheerful gleam of lamps, mid-day with its sunshine--all suggest\nreasons for indulging in the cup. Not that we are justified in fancying\nAlc\u00e6us to have been a vulgar toper: he retained \u00c6olian sumptuousness in\nhis pleasures, and raised the art of drinking to an \u00e6sthetic altitude.\nOne well-known piece from the _Paroenia_ of Alc\u00e6us is capable of\ntranslation into Elizabethan rhymed verse as follows:\n\n    The rain of Zeus descends, and from high heaven\n          A storm is driven:\n    And on the running water-brooks the cold\n          Lays icy hold:\n    Then up! beat down the winter; make the fire\n          Blaze high and higher;\n    Mix wine as sweet as honey of the bee\n          Abundantly;\n    Then drink with comfortable wool around\n          Your temples bound.\n    We must not yield our hearts to woe, or wear\n          With wasting care;\n    For grief will profit us no whit, my friend,\n          Nor nothing mend:\n    But this is our best medicine, with wine fraught\n          To cast out thought.\n\nThe debt of Horace to Alc\u00e6us must have been immense. The fragment\njust translated is the original of the ninth ode of the first book.\nThe fragment on the death of Myrsilus, #nyn chr\u00ea methysth\u00ean#, shows\nwhere Horace found the model for the last ode of the first book.\nAgain, \"O navis referent\" (Hor., _Carm._, i. 14) is based on an ode\nof the Lesbian poet of which we possess a fragment.[98] Between the\ntemperaments of Horace and of Alc\u00e6us, as between those of Catullus and\nof Sappho, there were marked similarities and correspondences. The\npoetry of both Horace and Alc\u00e6us was polished rather than profound,\nadmirably sketched rather than richly colored, more graceful than\nintense, less passionate than reflective. In Sappho and Catullus, on\nthe other hand, we meet with richer and more ardent natures: they are\nendowed with keener sensibilities, with a sensuality more noble because\nof its intensity, with emotions more profound, with a deeper faculty of\nthought, that never loses itself in the shallows of \"Stoic-Epicurean\nacceptance,\" but simply and exquisitely apprehends the facts of human\nlife. Where Horace talks of Orcus and the Urn, Catullus sings:\n\n    Soles occidere et redire possunt,\n    Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux\n    Nox est perpetua una dormienda.\n\nThis contrast between the polished sententiousness of Horace and the\npathetic outcry of Catullus marks the difference between two classes\nof poets to whom Horace and Alc\u00e6us, Sappho and Catullus, respectively\nbelong.\n\nOf the other Lesbian poets, Erinna and Damophila, we know but little:\nthe one survives in a single epigram--if we reject the epitaphs on\nBaucis; the other is a mere name. It is noticeable that of the four\nLesbian poets three are women. We may remember that in Thebes, which\nwas also an \u00c6olian city, Myrtis and Corinna rivalled Pindar.\n\nTo the list of \u00c6olian poets, Anacreon, though an Ionian by birth and\nan Ionian in temperament, is generally added, because he cultivated\nthe lyrical stanza of personal emotion. Into the \u00c6olian style Anacreon\nintroduced a new and uncongenial element. His passion had none of\nSappho's fiery splendor, none of the haughtiness and restlessness which\ndistinguished Alc\u00e6us. There was a vein of levity, almost of vulgarity,\nin the Ionians, which removed them from the altitudes of Dorian heroism\nand \u00c6olian enthusiasm. This tincture of flippancy is discernible in\nAnacreon. Life and love come easily to him. The roses keep no secrets\nfor his ears, such as they told to Sappho: they serve very well for\ngarlands when he drinks, and have a pleasant smell, especially in\nmyrrh. The wine-cup does not suggest to him variety of seasons--the\nfrozen streams of winter, the parched breath of the dog-star--as with\nAlc\u00e6us: he tipples and gets drunk. His loves, too, are facile--neither\npermanent nor tempestuous. The girls and boys of whom he sings were\nflute-players and cupbearers, servants of a tyrant, _instrumenta\nlibidinis_, chosen for their looks, as the poet had been selected for\nthe sweetness of his lyre with twenty chords. He never felt the furnace\nof Sappho, whose love, however criminal in the estimation of modern\nmoralists, was serious and of the soul. The difference between the\nlives of these three lyrists is very striking. Alc\u00e6us was a politician\nand party leader. Sappho was the centre of a free society of female\npoets. Anacreon was the courtier and laureate of tyrants. He won his\nfirst fame with Polycrates, at whose death Hipparchus fetched him to\nAthens in a trireme of fifty oars. Between Bacchus and Venus he spent\nhis days in palaces; and died at the ripe age of eighty-five at Teos,\nchoked, it is reported, by a grape-stone--a hoary-headed _rou\u00e9_, for\nwhom the rhyme of the medi\u00e6val Arcipoeta might have been written:\n\n    Meum est propositum,\n    In taberna mori, etc.\n\nIt need not be remarked that of the genuine poems of Anacreon we\npossess but few (pp. 1011-1045 of Bergk). His great popularity in\nGreece led to innumerable imitations of his lighter style.[99] These\nare fully preserved in Bergk's _Collection_ (pp. 1046-1108).\n\nThe Dorian style offers a marked contrast to the \u00c6olian. In the case of\nthe Ionian satirists and elegists, and in that of the \u00c6olian lyrists,\nthe national peculiarities of the art resulted from national qualities\nin the artists. This is not the case with the so-called Dorian poets.\nThe great lyrists of this school are, with one exception, of extraction\nforeign to the Dorian tribe. Alcman was a Lydian; Stesichorus\nacknowledged an Ionian colony for his fatherland; Arion was a Lesbian;\nSimonides and Bacchylides were Ionian; Pindar was Boeotian; Ibycus of\nRhegium alone was a Dorian. Why, then, is the style called Dorian?\nBecause the poets, though not Dorian by birth, wrote for Dorian patrons\nin the land of Dorians, to add splendor to ceremonies and solemnities\nin vogue among the Dorians. The distinctive features of this, the most\nsublime branch of Greek lyrical poetry, have been already hinted at:\nthese elaborate choral hymns, in which strophe answers to antistrophe,\nand epode to epode, chanted by bands of singers and accompanied at\ntimes by dancing, were designed to give expression, no longer to\npersonal emotions, but to the feelings of great congregations of men\nengaged in the celebration of gods and heroes and illustrious mortals.\nWhy this species of choral poetry received the patronage and name of\nthe Dorian tribe may be seen by glancing at the institutions peculiar\nto this section of the Hellenic family. The Dorians, more than any\nother Greeks, lived in common and in public. Their children were\neducated, not at home, but in companies, beneath the supervision of\nstate-officers. Girls as well as boys submitted to gymnastic training,\nand were taught to sacrifice domestic and personal to political\nand social interests. Tutored to merge the individual in the mass,\nhabituated to associate together in large bodies, the Dorians felt no\nneed of venting private feeling. Their personal emotions were stunted:\nthey had no separate wants and wishes, aspirations and regrets,\nto utter. Yet the sense of melody and harmony which was rooted so\nprofoundly in the Greek temperament needed some outlet even here;\nwhile the gymnastic and athletic exercises practised by the Dorians\nrendered them peculiarly sensitive, not only to the beauties of the\nhuman body, but also to the refinements of rhythmical movement. The\nspiritual enthusiasm for great and glorious actions, which formed the\nsoul of the Greek race, flamed with all the greater brilliancy among\nDorians, because it was not narrowed, as among the \u00c6olians, to the\nselfish passions of the individual, or diverted, as among Ionians,\nto meditation or satire; but was concentrated on public interests, on\nreligious and heroic traditions, on all the thoughts and feelings which\nstimulate a large political activity. The Dorians required a poetry\nwhich should be public, which should admit of the participation of many\nindividuals, which should give utterance to national enthusiasms, which\nshould combine the movements of men and women in choric evolutions with\nthe melodies of music and the sublime words of inspired prophecy. In\nbrief, the Dorians needed poets able--\n\n    \"to inbreed and cherish in a great people the seeds of virtue\n    and public civility, to allay the perturbations of the mind,\n    and set the affections in right tune; to celebrate in glorious\n    and lofty hymns the throne and equipage of God's Almightiness,\n    and what he works, and what he suffers to be wrought with high\n    Providence.... Lastly, whatsoever in religion is holy and\n    sublime, in virtue amiable or grave; whatsoever hath passion\n    or admiration in all the changes of that which is called\n    fortune from without, or the wily subtleties and reflexes of\n    man's thoughts from within; all these things, with a solid and\n    treatable smoothness, to paint out and describe.\"\n\nBut here arose a difficulty. With all their need of the highest and\nmost elaborate poetry, with all their sensibility to beauty, the\nDorians thought it beneath the dignity of a citizen to practise the\narts. Their education, almost exclusively military and gymnastic,\nunfitted them, at all events in Sparta, for studies indispensable\ntowards gaining proficiency in any science so elaborate as that of\nchoral poetry. Drilled to abstinence, obedience, and silence, dwelling\nin a camp, without privacy or leisure, how could a Spartan, that\nautomaton of the State, be expected to produce poetry, or excel in\nany fine art? A Spartan king, on being shown the most distinguished\nmusician of his age, pointed to his cook as the best maker of black\nbroth. Music, if music they must have; poetry, if poetry were required\nby some divinely implanted instinct; dancing, if dancing were a\nnecessary compliment to the Deity, must be imported by these warriors\nfrom foreign lands. Thus the Spartans became the patrons of stranger\nartists, on whom they imposed their laws of taste. They pressed the\nflexible Ionian, the passionate Lesbian, the languid Lydian, the acute\nAthenian, into their service, and made them use the crabbed Dorian\nspeech. They said: We want such and such odes for our choruses; we\nwish to amuse our youths and maidens, and to honor the gods with\npompous harmonies; you, men of art, write for us, sing for us; but be\ncareful to comprehend our character; and remember that, though you are\nIonians or Lesbians, your inspiration must be Dorian. They got what\nthey required. The so-called Dorian lyric is a genuine product of the\nDorian race, although its greatest masters were foreigners and aliens.\nMuch after the same fashion did England patronize Handel in the last\ncentury; in the same way may Handel's oratorios be called English\nmusic; for though the English are not musicians, and are diffident\nin general of the artist class, yet neither Germans nor Italians nor\nFrench have seen produced upon their soil such colossal works of art in\nthe service of a highly intellectual religion.\n\nIt is interesting to reflect upon the influence of the Dorian race\nin the evolution of Greek art. That, as a nation, they possessed\nthe germs of artistic invention, and that their character expressed\nitself very clearly in \u00e6sthetic forms, is evident from the existence\nof the Dorian style in architecture, and the Dorian mood in music,\nboth of which reflect their broad simplicity and strength disdaining\nornament. The same stamp they impressed upon Greek poetry, through the\ninstruments they selected from other tribes. Had it not been for the\nstrict legislation of Lycurgus, which, by forcing Sparta into a purely\npolitical development, and establishing a complete community of life\namong the citizens, checked the emergence of that individuality which\nis so all-important to the artist, Sparta might have counted her great\nsculptors, poets, musicians, orators, and painters, in rivalry with\nPheidias, Sophocles, Damon, Pericles, Polygnotus. As it was, though\nwithout hands to paint and carve, without lips to sing and plead, the\nstubborn Dorian race set its seal on a wide field of Greek art.[100]\n\nThe elaborate works of the choral lyrists may be regarded as the highly\nwrought expansions of rudiments already existing among the Dorians.\nAlcman, Arion, and Stesichorus, the three masters who formed choral\npoetry from the materials indicated to us in the poems of Homer, and\nwho had to blend in one harmonious whole the sister arts of dancing,\nmusic, and poetry, so as to present a pompous appeal to the intellect\nthrough speech, and through the ear and eye, found ready to their hands\nsuch simple songs as may be read in Bergk, pp. 1297-1303. The dithyramb\nof the women of Elis: \"Come, hero, Dionysus, to the holy sea-temple,\nattended by the Graces, and rushing on with oxen-hoof! Holy ox! Holy\nox!\" The chorus of the old men, men, and boys at Sparta: \"We once were\nstalwart youths: we are; if thou likest, try our strength: we shall be;\nand far better too!\" The march-song of the Spartans in their rhythmic\nrevels: \"Advance, boys, set your feet forward, and dance in the reel\nbetter still.\" From these had to be trained the complex and magnificent\nwork of art, which culminated in a Pythian ode of Pindar! Alcman was a\nnative of Sardis, and a slave of Agesilaus the Spartan. He flourished\nat Sparta between 671 and 631 B.C., composing Parthenia for the maidens\nof Taygetus. Who does not know his lines upon the valley of Eurotas?\n\"Sleep holds the mountain summits and ravines, the promontories and\nthe watercourses; leaves, and creeping things, and whatsoever black\nearth breeds; and wild beasts of the hills, and bees, and monsters\nin the hollows of the dark blue deep; and all the wide-winged birds\nare sleeping.\" Junior to Alcman was Arion, who spent most of his time\nwith Periander at Corinth. His contribution to choral poetry was the\nelaboration of the dithyramb. But of his work we have unfortunately not\na single fragment left. The piece that bears his name (Bergk, p. 872)\nhas to be ascribed to some tolerable poet of the Euripidean period.\nHis life is involved in mythology; most beautiful is the oft-told tale\nof his salvation from the sea waves by an enamoured dolphin--a fish,\nby the way, which Athen\u00e6us dignified by the title of #phil\u00f4idos te\nkai philaulos# (song-loving and flute-loving), and which Aristotle\ncalls #philanthr\u00f4pos# (affectionate to men). Rather more is known\nabout Stesichorus. He was a native of Himera in Sicily, but possibly a\nLocrian by descent. His parents called him Tisias, but he took his more\nfamous name from his profession. Stesichorus is a title that might have\nbeen given to any chorus-master in a Greek city; but Tisias of Himera\nwon it by being emphatically the author of the choric system. Antiquity\nrecognized in him the inventor of strophe, antistrophe, and epode, with\nthe corresponding movements of the dance, which were designated the\nTriad of Stesichorus. A remark made by Quintilian about this poet--that\nhe sustained the burden of the epos with his lyre--forms a valuable\ncriticism on his style. In the days of Stesichorus, the epic proper\nhad lost its vitality; but people still felt the liveliest interest\nin heroic legends, and loved to connect the celebration of the past\nwith their ceremonies. A lyrical poet had therefore so to treat the\nmyths of Hellas that choruses should represent them in their odes and\nsemi-dramatic dances. It is probable that Stesichorus made far more\nuse of mythical material than Pindar, dealing with it less allusively\nand adhering more closely to the epic form of narrative. When we hear\nof his ode, the Orestea, being divided into three books (whatever\nthat may mean), and read the titles of the rest--Cerberus, Cycnus,\nScylla, Europa, the Sack of Troy, the Nostoi, and Geryonis--we are led\nto suspect that his choral compositions were something of the nature\nof medi\u00e6val mystery-plays--semi-lyrical, semi-dramatic poems, founded\non the religious legends of the past. Stesichorus did not confine\nhimself to this species of composition, but wrote hymns, encomia, and\np\u00e6ans, like other professional lyrists who succeeded him, and invented\na curious kind of love-tale from real life. One of these romantic\npoems, called Calyc\u00e9, was about a girl who loved purely but unhappily,\nand died. Another, called Rhadina, told the forlorn tale of a Samian\nbrother and sister put to death by a cruel tyrant. It is a pity that\nthese early Greek novels in verse are lost. We might have found in them\nthe fresh originals of Daphnis and Chloe, or of the romances of Tatius\nand Heliodorus. Finally, Stesichorus composed fables, such as the Horse\nand the Stag, and pastorals upon the death of Daphnis, in which he\nproved himself true to his Sicilian origin, and anticipated Theocritus.\nEnough has been said about Stesichorus to show that he was a richly\ninventive genius--one of those facile and abundant natures who excel in\nmany branches of art, and who give hints by which posterity may profit.\nYet with all his genius he was not thoroughly successful. His pastorals\nand romances were abandoned by his successors; his epical lyrics were\nlost in the tragic drama. Like many other poets, he failed by coming\nat a wrong moment, or else by adhering to forms of art which could not\nlong remain in vogue. In his attempt to reconcile the epical treatment\nof mythology with the choric system of his own invention, he proved\nthat he had not fully grasped the capabilities of lyrical poetry. In\nhis endeavor to create an idyllic and romantic species, he was far\nbefore his age.\n\nThe remaining choral poets of the Dorian style, of whom the eldest,\nIbycus, dates half a century later than Arion, received from their\npredecessors an instrument of poetical expression already nearly\ncomplete. It was their part to use it as skilfully as possible, and to\nintroduce such changes as might render it more polished. Excellence\nof workmanship is particularly noticeable in what remains of Ibycus,\nSimonides, Bacchylides. These latter lyrists are no longer local poets:\nunder the altered circumstances of Hellas at the time of the Persian\nwar, art has become Panhellenic, the artists cease to be the servants\nof one state or of one deity; they range from city to city, giving\ntheir services to all who seek for them, and embracing the various\ntribes and religious rites of the collected Greeks in their \u00e6sthetic\nsympathy. Now, for the first time, poets began to sell their songs\nof praise for money. Simonides introduced the practice, which had\nsomething shocking in it to Greek taste, and which Plato especially\ncensures as sophistic and illiberal in his _Protagoras_. Now, too,\npoets became the friends and counsellors of princes, mixing freely\nin the politics of Samos, Syracuse, Agrigentum, Thessaly; aiding the\ntyrants Polycrates, Hiero, Theron, the Scopads, with their advice.\nSimonides is said to have suspended hostilities between Theron and\nHiero by his diplomatic intercession after their armies had been drawn\nup in battle-array. Petrarch did not occupy a more important place\namong the princes and republics of medi\u00e6val Italy. Under these new\nconditions, and with this expansion of the poet's calling, the old\ncharacter of the Dorian lyric changed. The title Dorian is now merely\nnominal, and the dialect is a conventional language consecrated to this\nstyle.\n\nIbycus was a native of Rhegium, a colony of mixed Ionians and Dorians.\nTo which of these families he belonged is not certain. If we judged\nby the internal evidence of his poems, we should call him an Ionian;\nfor they are distinguished by voluptuous sweetness, with a dash of\nalmost \u00c6olian intensity. Ibycus was a poet-errant, carrying his songs\nfrom state to state. The beautiful story of the cranes who led to the\ndiscovery of his murder at Corinth, though probably mythical, like\nthat of Arion's dolphin, illustrates the rude lives of these Greek\ntroubadours, and shows in what respect the _sacer vates_, servant of\nthe Muses and beloved of Phoebus, was held by the people. Ibycus was\nregarded by antiquity as a kind of male Sappho. His odes, composed\nfor birthday festivals and banquets, were dedicated chiefly to the\npraise of beautiful youths; and the legends which adorned them, like\nthose of Ganymede or Tithonus, were appropriate to the erotic style.\nAristophanes, in the _Thesmophoriazus\u00e6_, makes Agathon connect him\nwith Anacreon and Alc\u00e6us, as the three refiners of language. It is\nclear, therefore, that in his art Ibycus adapted the manner of Dorian\npoetry to the matter of \u00c6olian or Ionian love-chants. Of his poetry\nwe have but few fragments. The following seems to strike the keynote\nof his style: \"Love once again looking upon me from his cloud-black\nbrows, with languishing glances, drives me by enchantments of all kinds\nto the endless nets of Cypris: verily I tremble at his onset, as a\nchariot-horse, who hath won prizes, in old age goes grudgingly to try\nhis speed in the swift race of cars.\" In another piece he compares\nthe onset of Love to a downrush of the Thracian north wind armed with\nlightning. This fragment, numbered first in Bergk's _Collection_, is\ntaken from Athen\u00e6us, who quotes it to prove the vehement emotion of the\npoet:\n\n    In spring Cydonian apple-trees,\n    Watered by fountains ever flowing\n    Through crofts unmown of maiden goddesses,\n    And young vines, 'neath the shade\n    Of shooting tendrils, tranquilly are growing.\n    Meanwhile for me Love never laid\n    In slumber, like a north-wind glowing\n    With Thracian lightnings, still doth dart\n    Blood-parching madness on my heart,\n    From Kupris hurtling, stormful, wild,\n    Lording the man as erst the child.\n\nIt is interesting to compare the different metaphors whereby the early\nlyrists imaged the assaults of the Love-god. Sappho describes him in\none place as a youth arrayed with a flame-colored chlamys descending\nfrom heaven; in another she calls him \"a limb-dissolving, bitter-sweet,\nimpracticable wild beast;\" again, she compares the state of her soul\nunder the influence of love to oak-trees torn and shaken by a mountain\nwhirlwind. Anacreon paints a fine picture of Love like a blacksmith,\nforging his soul and tempering it in icy torrents. The dubious winged\nfigure armed with a heavy sword, which is carved upon the recently\ndiscovered column from the Temple of Ephesus, if he be the Love-god,\nand not, as some conjecture, Death, seems to have been conceived in\nthe spirit of these energetic metaphors. The Greeks, at the period of\nAnacreon and Ibycus, were far from having as yet imagined the baby\nCupid of Moschus, the Epigrammatists, and the Alexandrian Anacreontics.\nHe was still a terrible and passion-stirring power--no mere malicious\nurchin coming by night with drenched wings and unstrung bow to reward\nthe poet's hospitality by wounding him; no naughty boy who runs away\nfrom his mother and steals honeycombs, no bee-like elf asleep in\nrosebuds.\n\nSimonides is a far more brilliant representative than Ibycus, both of\nGreek choral poetry in its prime, and also of the whole literary life\nof Hellas during the period which immediately preceded and followed\nthe Persian war. He was born in the island of Ceos, of pure Ionian\nblood and breeding; but the Ionians of Ceos were celebrated for their\n#s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea# (reserve, or self-restraint), a quality strongly marked\nin the poems of Simonides. In his odes we do not trace that mixture of\n\u00c6olian passion and that concentration upon personal emotions which\nare noticeable in those of Ibycus, but rather a Dorian solemnity of\nthought and feeling, qualifying Simonides for the arduous functions to\nwhich he was called, of commemorating in elegy and epigram and funeral\node the achievements of Hellas against Persia. Simonides belonged to\na family of professional poets; for the arts among the early Greeks\nwere hereditary; a father taught the trade of flute-playing and\nchorus-leading and verse-making to his son, who, if he had original\ngenius, became a great poet, as was the fate of Pindar; or, if he\nwere endowed with commonplace abilities, remained a journeyman in\nart without discredit to himself, performing useful functions in his\nnative place.[101] Simonides exercised his calling of chorus-teacher\nat Carth\u00e6a in Ceos, and lived at the #chor\u00eageion#, or resort of the\nchorus, near the temple of Apollo. But the greater portion of his\nlife, after he had attained celebrity, was passed with patrons--with\nHipparchus, who invited him to Athens, where he dwelt at amity with\nAnacreon, and at enmity with Pindar's master, Lasos; with the Scopads\nand Aleuads of Thessaly, for whom he composed the most touching threnoi\nand the most brilliant panegyrics, of which fragments have descended\nto us; finally, with Hiero of Syracuse, who honored him exceedingly,\nand when he died consigned him to the earth with princely funeral\npomp. The relations of Simonides to these patrons may be gathered from\nnumerous slight indications, none of which are very honorable to his\ncharacter. For instance, after receiving the hospitality of Hipparchus,\nhe composed an epigram for the statue of Harmodius, in which he calls\nthe murder of the tyrant \"a great light rising upon Athens.\" Again, he\npraised the brutal Scopas, son of Creon, in an ode which is celebrated,\nboth as being connected with the most dramatic incident in the poet's\nlife, and also as having furnished Plato with a theme for argument, and\nAristotle with an ethical quotation--\"To be a good man in very truth,\na square without blame, is hard.\" This proposition Plato discusses\nin the _Protagoras_, while Aristotle cites the phrase, #tetrag\u00f4nos\naneu psogou# (four-square without fault). From the general tenor of\nthe fragments of this ode, from Plato's criticism, and from what is\nknown about the coarse nature of Scopas, who is being praised, we must\nconjecture that Simonides attempted to whitewash his patron's character\nby depreciating the standard of morality. With Ionian facility and\ncourtly compliment, he made excuses for a bad man by pleading that\nperfect goodness was unattainable. Scopas refused to pay the price\nrequired by Simonides for the poem in question, telling him to get half\nof it from the Dioscuri, who had also been eulogized. This was at a\nbanquet. While the king was laughing at his own rude jest, a servant\nwhispered to the poet that two goodly youths waited without, desiring\nearnestly to speak with him. Simonides left the palace, but found no\none. Even as he stood looking for his visitors, he heard the crash of\nbeams and the groans of dying men. Scopas with his guests had been\ndestroyed by the falling of the roof, and Simonides had received a\ngodlike guerdon from the two sons of Tyndareus. This story belongs,\nperhaps, to the same class as the cranes of Ibycus and the dolphin\nof Arion. Yet there seems to be no doubt that the Scopad dynasty was\nsuddenly extinguished; for we hear nothing of them at the time of the\nPersian war, and we know that Simonides composed a threnos for the\nfamily.\n\nThe most splendid period of the life of Simonides was that which he\npassed at Athens during the great wars with Persia. Here he was the\nfriend of Miltiades, Themistocles, and Pausanias. Here he composed his\nepigrams on Marathon, Thermopyl\u00e6, Salamis, Plat\u00e6a--poems not destined\nto be merely sung or consigned to parchment, but to be carved in\nmarble or engraved in letters of imperishable bronze upon the works\nof the noblest architects and statuaries. The genius of Simonides\nis unique in this branch of monumental poetry. His couplets--calm,\nsimple, terse, strong as the deeds they celebrate, enduring as the\nbrass or stone which they adorned--animated succeeding generations\nof Greek patriots; they were transferred to the brains of statesmen\nlike Pericles and Demosthenes, inscribed upon the fleshy tablets of\nthe hearts of warriors like Cleomenes, Pelopidas, Epaminondas. We are\nthrice fortunate in possessing the entire collection of these epigrams,\nunrivalled for the magnitude of the events they celebrate, and for the\ncircumstances under which they were composed. When we reflect what\nwould have become of the civilization of the world but for these Greek\nvictories--when we remember that the events which these few couplets\nrecord transcend in importance those of any other single period of\nhistory--we are almost appalled by the contrast between the brevity of\nthe epigrams and the world-wide vastness of their matter. In reviewing\nthe life of Simonides, after admitting that he was greedy of gain and\nnot adverse to flattery, we are bound to confess that, as a poet, he\nproved himself adequate to the age of Marathon and Salamis. He was\nthe voice of Hellas--the genius of Fame, sculpturing upon her brazen\nshield with a pen of adamant, in austere letters of indelible gold,\nthe achievements to which the whole world owes its civilization. Happy\npoet! Had ever any other man so splendid a heritage of song allotted to\nhim?\n\nIn style Simonides is always pure and exquisitely polished. The\nancients called him the sweet poet--Melicertes--_par excellence_. His\n#s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea#, or tempered self-restraint, gives a mellow tone not\nmerely to his philosophy and moral precepts, but also to his art.\nHe has none of Pindar's rugged majesty, volcanic force, gorgeous\nexuberance: he does not, like Pindar, pour forth an inexhaustible\ntorrent of poetical ideas, chafing against each other in the eddies of\nbreathless inspiration. On the contrary, he works up a few thoughts,\na few carefully selected images, with patient skill, producing a\nperfectly harmonious result, but one which is always bordering on\nthe commonplace. Like all correct poets, he is somewhat tame, though\ntender, delicate, and exquisitely beautiful. Pindar electrifies his\nhearer, seizing him like the eagle in Dante's vision, and bearing him\nbreathless through the ether of celestial flame. Simonides leads us by\nthe hand along the banks of pleasant rivers, through laurel groves, and\nby the porticos of sunny temples. What he possesses of quite peculiar\nto his own genius is pathos--the pathos of romance. This appears most\nremarkably in the fragment of a threnos which describes Dana\u00eb afloat\nupon the waves at night. It is with the greatest diffidence that I\noffer a translation of what remains one of the most perfect pieces of\npathetic poetry in any literature:\n\n    When, in the carven chest,\n    The winds that blew and waves in wild unrest\n    Smote her with fear, she, not with cheeks unwet,\n    Her arms of love round Perseus set,\n      And said: O child, what grief is mine!\n    But thou dost slumber, and thy baby breast\n    Is sunk in rest,\n    Here in the cheerless brass-bound bark,\n    Tossed amid starless night and pitchy dark.\n      Nor dost thou heed the scudding brine\n    Of waves that wash above thy curls so deep,\n    Nor the shrill winds that sweep,--\n    Lapped in thy purple robe's embrace,\n    Fair little face!\n    But if this dread were dreadful too to thee,\n    Then wouldst thou lend thy listening ear to me;\n    Therefore I cry,--Sleep, babe, and sea be still,\n    And slumber our unmeasured ill!\n      Oh, may some change of fate, sire Zeus, from thee\n    Descend, our woes to end!\n    But if this prayer, too overbold, offend\n    Thy justice, yet be merciful to me!\n\nThe careful development of simple thoughts in Simonides may best be\nillustrated by the fragment on the three hundred Spartans who died at\nThermopyl\u00e6:\n\n    \"Of those who died at Thermopyl\u00e6 glorious is the fate and fair\n    the doom; their grave is an altar; instead of lamentation,\n    they have endless fame; their dirge is a chant of praise.\n    Such winding-sheet as theirs no rust, no, nor all-conquering\n    time, shall bring to naught. But this sepulchre of brave men\n    hath taken for its habitant the glory of Hellas. Leonidas is\n    witness, Sparta's king, who hath left a mighty crown of valor\n    and undying fame.\"\n\nThe antitheses are wrought with consummate skill; the fate of the\nheroes is glorious, their doom honorable. So far the eulogy is\ncommonplace; then the same thought receives a bolder turn: their grave\nis an altar. We do not lament for them so much as hold them in eternal\nmemory; our very songs of sorrow become p\u00e6ans of praise. What follows\nis a still further expansion of the leading theme: rust and time cannot\naffect their fame; Hellas confides her glory to their tomb. Then\ngeneralities are quitted; and Leonidas, the protagonist of Thermopyl\u00e6,\nappears.\n\nIn his threnoi Simonides has generally recourse to the common grounds\nof consolation, which the Ionian elegists repeat _ad nauseam_, dwelling\nupon the shortness and uncertainty and ills of life, and tending rather\nto depress the survivors on their own account than to comfort them for\nthe dead.[102] In one he says, \"Short is the strength of men, and vain\nare all their cares, and in their brief life trouble follows upon\ntrouble; and death, that no man shuns, is hung above our heads--for\nhim both good and bad share equally.\" It is impossible, while reading\nthis lachrymose lament, to forget the fragment of that mighty threnos\nof Pindar's which sounds like a trumpet-blast for immortality, and,\ntrampling under feet the glories of this world, reveals the gladness of\nthe souls who have attained Elysium:\n\n          For them the night all through,\n          In that broad realm below,\n    The splendor of the sun spreads endless light;\n          'Mid rosy meadows bright,\n    Their city of the tombs with incense-trees,\n          And golden chalices\n          Of flowers, and fruitage fair,\n          Scenting the breezy air,\n    Is laden. There with horses and with play,\n    With games and lyres, they while the hours away.\n\n          On every side around\n          Pure happiness is found,\n    With all the blooming beauty of the world;\n          There fragrant smoke, upcurled\n    From altars where the blazing fire is dense\n          With perfumed frankincense,\n          Burned unto gods in heaven,\n          Through all the land is driven,\n    Making its pleasant place odorous\n    With scented gales and sweet airs amorous.\n\nThe same note of melancholy reflection upon transient human life\nmay be traced in the following fragment ascribed to Simonides. He is\napparently rebuking Cleobulus of Lindus in Rhodes for an arrogant\nepigraph inscribed upon some stel\u00e9.\n\n    Those who are wise in heart and mind,\n    O Lindian Cleobulus, find\n    Naught in thy shallow vaunt aright;\n    Who with the streams that flow for aye,\n    The vernal flowers that bloom and die,\n    The fiery sun, the moon's mild rays,\n    The strong sea's eddying water-ways,\n    Matchest a marble pillar's might--\n    Lo, all things that have being are\n    To the high gods inferior far;\n    But carven stone may not withstand\n    Even a mortal's ruthless hand.\n    Therefore thy words no wisdom teach\n    More than an idiot's idle speech.\n\nWhat has been said about Simonides applies in a great measure also to\nBacchylides, who was his nephew, pupil, and faithful follower. The\npersonality of Bacchylides, as a man and a poet, is absorbed in that\nof his uncle--the greater bard, the more distinguished actor on the\ntheatre of the world. While Simonides played his part in public life,\nBacchylides gave himself up to the elegant pleasures of society; while\nSimonides celebrated in epigrams the military glories of the Greeks,\nBacchylides wrote wine-songs and congratulatory odes. His descriptions\nof Bacchic intoxication and of the charms of peace display the same\ncareful word-painting as the description by Simonides of Orpheus, with\nmore luxuriance of sensual suggestion. His threnoi exhibit the same\nIonian despondency and resignation--a dead settled calm, an elegant\nstolidity of epicureanism. That this excellent, if somewhat languid,\nlyrist may receive his due meed of attention, I have selected his most\nimportant fragment, the _Praise of Peace_, for translation (Bergk, vol.\niii. p. 1230):\n\n    To mortal men Peace giveth these good things:\n    Wealth, and the flowers of honey-throated song;\n    The flame that springs\n    On carven altars from fat sheep and kine,\n    Slain to the gods in heaven; and, all day long,\n    Games for glad youths, and flutes, and wreaths, and circling wine.\n    Then in the steely shield swart spiders weave\n    Their web and dusky woof:\n    Rust to the pointed spear and sword doth cleave;\n    The brazen trump sounds no alarms;\n    Nor is sleep harried from our eyes aloof,\n    But with sweet rest my bosom warms:\n    The streets are thronged with lovely men and young,\n    And hymns in praise of boys like flames to heaven are flung.\n\nThe tone common to Simonides and Bacchylides in funeral poems will be\nillustrated by the four following fragments:[103]\n\n    Being a man, say not what comes to-morrow,\n    Nor, seeing one in bliss, how long 'twill last;\n    For wide-winged fly was ne'er of flight so fast\n    As change to sorrow.\n\n    Nay, not those elder men, who lived of yore,\n    Of sceptred gods the half-immortal seed,\n    Not even they to prosperous old age wore\n    A life from pain and death and danger freed.\n\n    Short is the strength of men, and vain their trouble,\n    Through their brief age sorrows on sorrows double;\n    O'er each and all hangs death escaped by none;\n    Of him both good and bad an equal lot have won.\n\n    For mortal men not to be born is best,\n    Nor e'er to see the bright beams of the day;\n    Since, as life rolls away,\n    No man that breathes was ever alway blest.\n\nHere we must stop short in the front of Pindar--the Hamlet among these\nlesser actors, the Shakespeare among a crowd of inferior poets. To\ntreat of Greek lyrical poetry and to omit Pindar is a paradox in\naction. Yet Pindar is so colossal, so much apart, that he deserves a\nseparate study, and cannot be dragged in at the end of a bird's-eye\nview of a period of literature. At the time of Pindar, poetry was\nsinking into mannerism. He by the force of his native originality gave\nit a wholly fresh direction, and created a style as novel as it was\ninimitable. Like some high mountain-peak, upon the border-land of plain\nand lesser hills, he stands alone, sky-piercing and tremendous in his\nsolitary strength.\n\nBefore, however, entering upon the criticism of Pindar's poetry, it\nwill be of service to complete this review of the Greek lyric by some\nspecimens of those later artificial literary odes, a few of which\nhave been preserved for us by the anthologists and grammarians. The\nfollowing Hymn to Virtue has a special interest, since it is ascribed\nto Aristotle, the philosopher, and makes allusion to his friend, the\ntyrant of Atarneus. The comparative dryness of the style is no less\ncharacteristic of the age in which the poem is supposed to have been\nwritten, than its animating motive, the beauty of Virtue, is true to\nthe Greek conception of morality and heroism.\n\n    Virtue, to men thou bringest care and toil;\n    Yet art thou life's best, fairest spoil!\n    O virgin goddess, for thy beauty's sake\n    To die is delicate in this our Greece,\n    Or to endure of pain the stern strong ache.\n              Such fruit for our soul's ease\n    Of joys undying, dearer far than gold\n    Or home or soft-eyed sleep, dost thou unfold!\n              It was for thee the seed of Zeus,\n    Stout Herakles, and Leda's twins, did choose\n    Strength-draining deeds, to spread abroad thy name:\n              Smit with the love of thee,\n              Aias and Achileus went smilingly\n    Down to Death's portal, crowned with deathless fame.\n              Now, since thou art so fair,\n              Leaving the lightsome air,\n    Atarneus' hero hath died gloriously.\n    Wherefore immortal praise shall be his guerdon:\n    His goodness and his deeds are made the burden\n              Of songs divine\n              Sung by Memory's daughters nine,\n    Hymning of hospitable Zeus the might\n    And friendship firm as fate in fate's despite.\n\nThe next is a Hymn to Health, hardly less true to Greek feeling than\nthe Hymn to Virtue. Simonides, it will be remembered, had said that the\nfirst and best possession to be desired by man is health. The ode is\nbut a rhetorical expansion of this sentence, showing that none of the\ngood things of human life can be enjoyed without physical well-being.\n\n    Health! Eldest, most august of all\n    The blessed gods, on thee I call!\n    Oh, let me spend with thee the rest\n    Of mortal life, securely blest!\n    Oh, mayst thou be my house-mate still,\n    To shield and shelter me from ill!\n                If wealth have any grace,\n                If fair our children's face;\n      If kinghood, lifting men to be\n      Peers with the high gods' empery;\n                If young Love's flying feet\n                Through secret snares be sweet;\n    If aught of all heaven's gifts to mortals sent,\n    If rest from care be dear, or calm content--\n    These goodly things, each, all of them, with thee\n                Bloom everlastingly,\n      Blest Health! Yea, Beauty's year\n    Breaks into spring for thee, for only thee!\n    Without thee no man's life is aught but cold and drear.\n\nAs an example of the p\u00e6an or the prosodial hymn, when it assumed a\nliterary form, I may select an ode to Phoebus, which bears the name of\nDionysius. Apollo is here addressed in his character of Light-giver,\nand leader of the lesser powers of heaven. The stars and the moon are\nhis attendants, rejoicing in his music, and deriving from his might\ntheir glory.\n\n        Let all wide heaven be still!\n        Be silent vale and hill,\n        Earth and whispering wind and sea,\n        Voice of birds and echo shrill!\n        For soon amid our choir will be\n    Phoebus with floating locks, the Lord of Minstrelsy!\n        O father of the snow-browed morn;\n        Thou who dost drive the rosy car\n        Of day's wing-footed coursers, borne\n        With gleaming curls of gold unshorn\n        Over heaven's boundless vault afar;\n        Weaving the woof of myriad rays,\n        Wealth-scattering beams that burn and blaze,\n        Enwinding them round earth in endless maze!\n      The rivers of thy fire undying\n        Beget bright day, our heart's desire:\n      The throng of stars to greet thee flying\n    Through cloudless heaven, join choric dances,\n      Hailing thee king with ceaseless crying\n        For joy of thy Phoebean lyre.\n    In front the gray-eyed Moon advances\n      Drawn by her snow-white heifers o'er\n      Night's silent silvery dancing-floor:\n    With gladness her mild bosom burns\n    As round the d\u00e6dal world she turns.\n\nFrom these specimens we may infer the character of that semi-ethical,\nsemi-religious lyric poetry which was produced so copiously in Greece,\nand of which we have lost all but accidental remnants. Though not to\nbe compared for grandeur of style and abundance of grace with the\nodes of Pindar and the fragments of Simonides, they display a careful\nworkmanship, a clear and harmonious development of ideas, that make us\nlong, alas too vainly, for the treasures of a literature now buried in\nirrevocable oblivion.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[76]\n\n    #toisin d' en messoisi pa\u00efs phormingi ligei\u00eai\n    himeroen kitharize; linon d' hypo kalon aeiden\n    leptale\u00eai ph\u00f4n\u00eai.#--_Iliad_, xviii. 569.\n\n    A boy, amid them, from a clear-toned harp\n    Drew lovely music; well his liquid voice\n    The strings accompanied.--_Lord Derby's Trans._\n\n[77] Bergk (_Poet\u00e6 Lyrici Gr\u00e6ci_, 3 vols., Leipsic, 1866) gives an old\nGreek Linus-song on p. 1297:\n\n    O Linus, thee the gods did grace;\n    For unto thee they gave, most dear,\n    First among men the song to raise\n    With shrill voice sounding high and clear;\n    And Phoebus thee in anger slays,\n    And Muses mourn around thy bier.\n\n[78] Many poems of the Syracusan idyllists are valuable historically\nas adaptations of the hexameter to subjects essentially lyrical. In\nthe Adoniazus\u00e6, the Epithalamium Helen\u00e6, the Lament for Bion, etc., we\ntrace a lyrical inspiration overlaid by the idyllic form. Theocritus\nmust have worked on the lines of old choral poetry.\n\n[79] \"Pour we libations to Memory's daughters, the Muses, and to the\nMuse-leading son of Leto.\"\n\n[80] Plutarch records with just indignation the honors of this sort\npaid by Aratus to Antigonus: \"He offered sacrifices, called Antigonea,\nin honor of Antigonus, and sang p\u00e6ans himself, with a garland on his\nhead, to the praise of _a wasted, consumptive Macedonian_\" (_Life of\nCleomenes_). The words in italics strongly express a true Greek sense\nof disgust for the barbarian and the weakling.\n\n[81] See Frere, vol. ii. pp. 200, 201.\n\n[82] See Trans. of _Acharnians_, Frere, vol. ii. p. 17.\n\n[83] Frere's _Translation_, vol. ii. pp. 241-245.\n\n[84] See, however, the interesting archaic hymns to Dionysus, pp. 1299,\n1300.\n\n[85] Bergk, p. 716; Pindar, _Olymp._, ix. 1.\n\n[86] It is interesting to observe that this custom of the funeral\ndirge, improvised with wild inspiration by women, has been preserved\nalmost to the present day in Corsica. A collection of these coronachs,\ncalled _Voceri_ in the language of the island, was published in 1855 at\nBastia, by Cesare Fabiani.\n\n[87] Translated by Mitchell, vol. ii. p. 282, in his _Dicast turned\nGentleman_.\n\n[88] \"To be in health is the best thing for mortal man; the next best\nto be of form and nature beautiful; the third, to enjoy wealth gotten\nwithout fraud; and the fourth, to be in youth's bloom among friends.\"\nThe Greek suspicion of wealth, abundantly illustrated in the Gnomic\nelegies, might be further exemplified by this fragment ascribed to\nTimocreon:\n\n    Would, blind Wealth, that thou hadst been\n    Ne'er on land or ocean seen,\n    Nowhere on this upper earth!\n    Hell's black stream that gave thee birth\n    Is the proper haunt for thee,\n    Cause of all man's misery!\n\n[89] Athen., _Lib._, viii. 360.\n\n[90] This begs the question of the nationality of Tyrt\u00e6us, who,\naccording to antique tradition, was of Attic origin, but who writes\nlike a Spartan.\n\n[91] Compare Simonides (Bergk, vol. iii. p. 1143):\n\n        #angele klyta earos hadyodmou,\n        kyanea chelidoi.#\n\n    Blithe angel of the perfume-breathing spring,\n    Dark-vested swallow.\n\n[92] Those who are curious in the matter of metres will find the\nSapphic stanza reproduced in English, with perfect truth of cadence, in\nSwinburne's \"Sapphics\" (_Poems and Ballads_). The imitations by Horace\nare far less close to the original.\n\n[93] Bergk, p. 935.\n\n[94] _Carm._, i. 32, thus translated by Conington:\n\n    Thou, strung by Lesbos' minstrel hand,\n      The bard who 'mid the clash of steel,\n    Or haply mooring to the strand,\n      His battered keel,\n\n    Of Bacchus and the Muses sung,\n      And Cupid, still at Venus' side,\n    And Lycus, beautiful and young,\n      Dark-haired, dark-eyed.\n\n[95] _De Nat. Deorum_, i. 28.\n\n[96] See Bergk, p. 948.\n\n[97] _Rhet._, i. 9.\n\n[98] Bergk, p. 936.\n\n[99] The people of Athens gave him a statue on their Acropolis. The\nTeians struck his portrait on coins. Critias said that his poems\nwould last as long as the Cottabos in Hellas. He did in fact exactly\nrepresent one side, and that the least heroic side, of the character\nof the Greeks--their simple love of sensual pleasure. As mere Hedonism\ngrew, so did the songs and the style of Anacreon gain in popularity,\nwhereas the stormier passion of Sappho became unfashionable.\n\n[100] It is unhistorical to confound the Dorians with the Spartans, who\nwere a specially trained section of the Dorian stock. Yet it will be\nseen that, in relation at least to lyric poetry, Sparta fairly may be\ntaken as _the_ Dorian state.\n\n[101] The dramatic art was hereditary among the Athenians. \u00c6schylus\nleft a son, Euphorion, and two nephews, Philocles and Astydamas, who\nproduced tragedies. The last is reported to have written no fewer\nthan two hundred and forty plays. Iophon, the son, and Sophocles, the\ngrandson, of the great Sophocles, were dramatists of some repute at\nAthens. Euripides had a nephew of his own name, and Aristophanes two\nsons who followed the same calling. It is only from families like the\nBachs that we can draw any modern parallel to this transmission of an\nart from father to son in the same race.\n\n[102] The reputation gained by Simonides among the ancients for the\nsorrow of his song is proved by the phrase of Catullus,--\"Moestius\nlachrymis Simonideis\" (more sad than tears shed by Simonides).\n\n[103] See Bergk, vol. iii. pp. 1128, 1129, 1132, 1227.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n_PINDAR._\n\n    His Life.--Legends connected with him.--The Qualities of\n        his Poetry.--The Olympic Games.--Pindar's Professional\n        Character.--His Morality.--His Religious Belief.--Doctrine\n        of a Future State.--Rewards and Punishments.--The Structure\n        of his Odes.--The Proemia to his Odes.--His Difficulty and\n        Tumidity of Style.\n\n\nPindar, in spite of his great popularity among the Greeks, offers no\nexception to the rule that we know but little of the lives of the\nillustrious poets and artists of the world. His parents belonged to the\ntown of Cynoscephal\u00e6; but Pindar himself resided at Thebes, and spoke\nof Thebes as his native place--#Th\u00eaba mater ema#. That his father was\ncalled Daiphantus appears tolerably certain; and we may fix the date\nof his birth at about 522 B.C. He lived to the age of seventy-nine;\nso that the flourishing period of his life exactly coincides with the\ngreat Persian struggle, in which he lived to see Hellas victorious.\nHe had three children--a son, Daiphantus, and two daughters, Eumetis\nand Protomache. His family was among the noblest and most illustrious\nof Thebes, forming a branch of the ancient house of the \u00c6geid\u00e6, who\nsettled both at Thebes and Sparta in heroic times, and offshoots from\nwhom were colonists of Thera and Cyrene. Thus many of the heroes\ncelebrated by Pindar, and many of the illustrious men to whom he\ndedicates his odes, were of his own kin. Genius for the art seems to\nhave been hereditary in the family of Pindar, as it was in that of\nStesichorus and of Simonides; therefore, when the youth showed an\naptitude for poetry, his father readily acceded to his wishes, and sent\nhim to Athens to learn the art of composing for the chorus from Lasos,\nthe then famous but now forgotten antagonist of the bard of Ceos.\nBefore his twentieth year, Pindar returned to Thebes and took, it is\nsaid, instruction from the poetesses Myrtis and Corinna. To this period\nof his artistic career belongs the oft-told tale, according to which\nCorinna bade her pupil interweave myths with his panegyrics, and when,\nfollowing her advice, he produced an ode in which he had exhausted\nall the Theban legends, told him #t\u00eai cheiri dein speirein, alla m\u00ea\nhol\u00f4i t\u00f4i thylak\u00f4i#--that one ought to sow with the hand and not with\nthe whole sack. Against both Myrtis and Corinna, Pindar entered the\nlists of poetical contest. Corinna is reported to have beaten him\nfive times, and never to have been vanquished by her more illustrious\nrival. Pausanias hints that she owed her victories to her beauty, and\nto the fact that she wrote in a broad \u00c6olic dialect, more suited to the\nears of her judges than Pindar's Doric style. The same circumstance\nwhich insured her this temporary triumph may have caused her ultimate\nneglect. The fragment we possess of Corinna--\n\n    #memphom\u00ea de k\u00ea ligouran Mourtid' hi\u00f4nga\n    hoti bana phous' eba Pindaroio pot' erin.#\n\n\"I blame the clear-voiced Myrtis for that, a woman, she contended\nagainst Pindar,\" is curiously at variance with her own practice. Its\n\u00c6olisms prove how local and provincial her language must have been.\n\nThe history of Pindar's life is the record of his poetical\ncompositions. He was essentially a professional artist, taking no\nactive part in politics, and studying to perfect his poetry all through\nthe perilous days of Salamis and Plat\u00e6a--like Michael Angelo, who went\non modelling and hewing through the sack of Rome, the fall of Florence,\nthe decline of Italian freedom, with scarce a word to prove the anguish\nof his patriot soul. Pindar, unlike his fellow-countrymen, did not\nside with the Persians, but felt enthusiasm for Athens, the #ereisma\nHellados# (buttress of Hellas), as he calls her in a dithyramb[104]\n(Fr. iv.). For this he was made Proxenos of Athens, and received a\npresent of 10,000 drachmas. It is said that the Thebans fined him\nfor his implied reflections upon them, and that Athens paid the debt.\nThese facts, if true, testify to the post of honor which a mighty\npoet occupied in Hellas, when the _vox et pr\u00e6terea nihil_ of a bard,\ninspired indeed by Muses, but dependent on a patron for his bread, was\nlistened to with such jealous ears by the rulers of great cities. The\nlast Isthmian ode shows in what a noble spirit Pindar felt the dangers\nof Hellas during her deadly strife with Persia, and how he could\nscarcely breathe for anxiety until the stone of Tantalus suspended over\nher had been arrested. In the Proemium he says:\n\n    \"For Cleander and his prime of beauty let some one, O ye\n    youths, bear the glorious meed of toil to the splendid portals\n    of his sire Telesarchus, the revel-song, which pays him for his\n    Isthmian victory and for his might in Nemean games. For him I\n    too, though grieved in soul, am asked to call upon the golden\n    Muse. Freed as we are from mighty griefs, let us not fall into\n    the bereavement of victorious crowns, nor nurse our cares;\n    but ceasing from vain sorrows, spread we honeyed song abroad\n    thus after our great trouble: forasmuch as of a truth some god\n    hath turned aside the stone of Tantalus which hung above our\n    heads--intolerable suffering for Hellas. Me verily the passing\n    away of dread hath cured not of all care; yet it is ever better\n    to notice what is present: for treacherous time is hung above\n    the lives of men, rolling the torrent of their days. Still,\n    with freedom on our side, men can cure even these evils; and it\n    is our duty to attend to wholesome hope.\"\n\nPindar passed his time chiefly at Thebes, where his home was. But\nhe also visited the different parts of Greece, frequently staying\nat Delphi, where the iron chair on which he sat and sang was long\npreserved; and also journeying to the houses of his patrons--Hiero\nof Syracuse, and presumably Theron of Agrigentum, and perhaps, too,\nAlexander of Macedon. Olympia must have often received him as a guest,\nas well as the island of \u00c6gina, where he had many friends. Odes were\nsent by him to Cyrene, to Ceos, to Rhodes--on what tablets, we may\nwonder, adorned with what caligraphy from Pindar's stylus, in what\ncasket worthy of the man who loved magnificence? The Rhodians inscribed\nhis seventh Olympian--the most radiant panegyric of the sea-born isle\nof Helios--in letters of gold on the walls of their temple of the\nLindian Athene. In the midst of his artistic labors, and while serving\nmany patrons, Pindar, as we shall see, preserved his dignity and\nloftiness of moral character.\n\nPindar is said to have died in the theatre at Argos, in the arms of\nTheoxenos, a youth whom he loved passionately, and whom he has praised\nin the most sublime strains for his beauty in a scolion, the fragment\nof which we possess.[105] Anacreon choked by a grape-stone; Sophocles\nbreathing out his life together with the pathetic lamentations of\nAntigone; \u00c6schylus killed on the sea-shore by the eagle whose flight\nhe had watched; Empedocles committing his fiery but turbid spirit to\nthe flames of Etna; Sappho drowning her sorrows in the surf of the\nLeucadian sea; Ibycus, the poet-errant, murdered by land-robbers;\nEuripides torn to pieces like his own Pentheus; Archilochus honored in\nhis death by an oracle that cursed his battle-foe; Pindar, amid the\nplaudits of the theatre, sinking back into the arms of his Theoxenos\nand dying in a noontide blaze of glory--these are the appropriate and\ndramatic endings which the literary gossips among the Greeks, always\ninventively ingenious, ascribed to some of their chief poets. _Se non\nson veri, son ben trovati._\n\nSome purely legendary details show the estimation in which\n\nPindar was held by his countrymen. Multitudes of bees are said to have\nsettled on his lips when he was an infant. Pan chose a hymn of his and\nsang it on the mountains, honoring a mortal poet with his divine voice.\nThe Mother of the gods took up her dwelling at his door. Lastly, we\nhave the famous story of the premonition of his death in dreams--a\nlegend of peculiar significance, when we remember that Pindar, like Sir\nThomas Browne, believed that \"we are more than ourselves in our sleep,\"\nand wrote:\n\n        All by happy fate attain\n        The end that frees them from their pain;\n        And the body yields to death,\n        But the shape of vital breath\n        Still in life continueth;\n        It alone is heaven's conferring:\n        Sleeps it when the limbs are stirring.\n    But when they sleep, in many dreams it shows\n    The coming consummation both of joys and woes.[106]\n\nJust before his death, then, Pindar sent to inquire of the oracle of\nAmmon what was best for man; and the answer, which he had already\nhimself anticipated in his commemoration of Trophonius and Agamedes,\nwas--Death. Meanwhile Persephone appeared to him in his sleep, and\ntold him that he should praise her in her own realm, although on earth\nhe had left her, alone of the blest gods, unsung. Ten days afterwards\nhe died. The hymn which Pindar composed for Persephone in Hades was\ndictated to a Theban woman by his ghost--so runs the tale--and written\ndown. After his death, Pindar received more than heroic honors. They\nkept his iron chair at Delphi; and the priest of Phoebus, before he\nshut the temple gates, cried, \"Let Pindar the poet go into the banquet\nof the god.\" At Athens his statue was erected at the public cost. At\nThebes his house was spared in the ruin of two sieges:\n\n    Lift not thy spear against the Muse's bower;\n    The great Emathian conqueror bid spare\n    The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower\n    Went to the ground.\n\nAt Rhodes, as we have seen, an ode of his was sculptured on the temple\nwalls of Pallas. Throughout the future, as long as Greek poetry\nendured, he was known emphatically by the title of #ho lyrikos#.\n\nPindar was famous, as these semi-mythical stories about his infancy and\nold age indicate, for piety. Unlike Horace, who calls himself _Parcus\ndeorum cultor et infrequens_, Pindar was a devout and steadfast servant\nof his country's gods. He dedicated a shrine or #matr\u00f4on# near his\nown house to the Mother of the gods, a statue to Zeus Ammon in Libya,\nand one to Hermes in the Theban agora. The whole of his poetry is\nimpregnated with a lively sense of the divine in the world. Accepting\nthe religious traditions of his ancestors with simple faith, he adds\nmore of spiritual severity and of mystical morality than we find in\nHomer. Yet he is not superstitious or credulous. He can afford to\ncriticise the myths like Xenophanes and Plato, refusing to believe\nthat a blessed god could be a glutton. In Pindar, indeed, we see the\nfine flower of Hellenic religion, free from slavish subservience to\ncreeds and ceremonies, capable of extracting sublime morality from\nmythical legends, and adding to the old glad joyousness of the Homeric\nfaith a deeper and more awful perception of superhuman mysteries. The\nphilosophical scepticism which in Greece, after the age of Pericles,\ncorroded both the fabric of mythology and the indistinct doctrines of\ntheological monotheism, had scarcely yet begun to act.\n\nPassing to the poetry of Pindar, we have a hard task before us. What\ncan be said adequate to such a theme? What can be left unsaid of the\nmany thoughts that ought to be expressed? At the time of Pindar's\nyouth, lyrical poetry in Greece was sinking into mannerism. He, by\nthe force of his originality, gave it a wholly new direction, and,\ncoming last of the great Dorian lyrists, taught posterity what sort of\nthing an ode should be. The grand pre-eminence of Pindar as an artist\nwas due in a great measure to his personality. Frigid, austere, and\nsplendid; not genial like that of Simonides, not passionate like that\nof Sappho, not acrid like that of Archilochus; hard as adamant, rigid\nin moral firmness, glittering with the strong keen light of snow;\nhaughty, aristocratic, magnificent--the unique personality of the man\nPindar, so irresistible in its influence, so hard to characterize,\nis felt in every strophe of his odes. In his isolation and elevation\nPindar stands like some fabled heaven-aspiring peak, conspicuous from\nafar, girdled at the base with ice and snow, beaten by winds, wreathed\nround with steam and vapor, jutting a sharp and dazzling outline into\ncold blue ether. Few things that have life dare to visit him at his\ngrand altitude. Glorious with sunlight and with stars, touched by rise\nand set of day with splendor, he shines when other lesser heights\nare dulled. Pindar among his peers is solitary. He had no communion\nwith the poets of his day. He is the eagle; Simonides and Bacchylides\nare jackdaws. He soars to the empyrean; they haunt the valley mists.\nNoticing this rocky, barren, severe, glittering solitude of Pindar's\nsoul, critics have not unfrequently complained that his poems are\ndevoid of individual interest. Possibly they have failed to comprehend\nand appreciate the nature of this sublime and distant genius, whose\ncharacter, in truth, is just as marked as that of Dante or of Michael\nAngelo.\n\nSince I have indulged in one metaphor in the vain attempt to enter\ninto some _rapport_ with Pindar, let me proceed to illustrate the\nPindaric influence--the impression produced by a sympathetic study of\nhis odes upon the imagination saturated with all that is peculiar in\nhis gorgeous style--by the deliberate expansion of some similes, which\nare by no means mere ornaments of rhetoric, but illustrations carefully\nselected from the multitude of images forced upon the mind during a\ndetailed perusal of his poetry. One of the common names for Pindar is\nthe Theban Eagle. This supplies us with the first image, which may be\nconveyed in the very words of Dante:[107]\n\n    \"In dreams I seemed to see an eagle hovering in air on\n    wings of gold, with pinions spread and ready to swoop. I\n    thought I was on the spot where Ganymede was taken from his\n    comrades and borne aloft to the celestial consistory. I\n    pondered--peradventure the great bird only strikes this hill,\n    and peradventure scorns to snatch elsewhere his prey. Then it\n    seemed to me that, after wheeling a while, it swooped, terrible\n    like lightning, and caught me up into the sphere of flame; and\n    there I thought that it and I both burned; and so fiercely did\n    the fire in my imagination blaze, that sleep no longer could\n    endure, but broke.\"\n\nThis simile describes the rapidity and fierceness of Pindar's spirit,\nthe atmosphere of empyreal splendor into which he bears us with\nstrong wings and clinging talons. Another image may be borrowed from\nHorace,[108] who says,\n\n    Fervet immensusque ruit profundo Pindarus +ore+;\n\nlikening the poet to a torrent, unrestrained, roaring to the woods\nand precipices with a thunderous voice. This image does not, like the\nother, fix our attention upon the quality peculiar to Pindar among all\nthe poets of the world--splendor, fire, the blaze of pure effulgence.\nBut it does suggest another characteristic, which is the stormy\nviolence of his song, that chafes within its limits and seems unable\nto advance quickly enough in spite of its speed. This violence of\nPindar's style, as of some snow-swollen Alpine stream, the hungry Arve\nor death-cold Lutschine, leaping and raging among granite boulders, has\nmisled Horace into the notion that Pindar's odes are without metrical\nstructure:\n\n          numerisque fertur\n    Lege solutis:\n\nwhereas we know that, while pursuing his eagle-flight to the sun, or\nthundering along his torrent-path, Pindar steadily observed the laws of\nstrophe, antistrophe, and epode with consummate art. A third figure may\nbe chosen from Pindar[109] himself.\n\n    \"As when a man takes from his wealthy hand a goblet foaming\n    with the dew of the grape, and gives it with healths and\n    pledges to his youthful son-in-law to bear from one home to the\n    other home, golden, the crown of his possessions, gracing the\n    feast and glorifying his kinsman, and makes him in the eyes of\n    the assembled friends to be admired for his harmonious wedlock:\n    so I, sending outpoured nectar, the Muse's gift, to conquering\n    heroes, the sweet fruit of the soul, greet them like gods,\n    victors at Olympia and Pytho.\"\n\nThen, too, he adds: \"With the lyre and with the various voices of\nflutes[110] I have come with Diagoras across the sea, chanting the\nwave-born daughter of the Cyprian goddess and the bride of Helios,\nisland Rhodes.\" In this passage we get a lively impression of some of\nthe marked qualities of Pindar. Reading his poetry is like quaffing\nwine that bubbles in a bowl of gold. Then, too, there is the picture\nof the poet, gorgeously attired, with his singing-robes about him,\nerect upon the prow of a gilded galley, floating through dazzling\nsummer-waves towards the island of his love, Rhodes or Sicily or\n\u00c6gina. The lyre and the flute send their clear sounds across the sea.\nWe pass temple and citadel on shore and promontory. The banks of oars\nsweep the flashing brine. Meanwhile the mighty poet stretches forth\nhis golden cup of song to greet the princes and illustrious athletes\nwho await him on the marble quays. Reading Pindar is a progress of\nthis pompous kind. Pindar, as one of his critics remarks, was born\nand reared in splendor; splendor became his vital atmosphere. The\nepithet #philaglaos#, which he gives to Girgenti, suits himself. The\nsplendor-loving Pindar is his name and title for all time. If we search\nthe vocabulary of Pindar to find what phrases are most frequently\nupon his lips, we shall be struck with the great preponderance of all\nwords that indicate radiance, magnificence, lustre. To Pindar's soul\nsplendor was as elemental as harmony to Milton's. Of the graces, Aglaia\nmust have been his favorite. Nor, love as he did the gorgeousness of\nwealth, was it mere transitory pomp, the gauds and trappings of the\nworld, which he admired. There must be something to stir the depths of\nhis soul--beauty of person, or perfection of art, or moral radiance,\nor ideal grandeur. The blaze of real magnificence draws him as the sun\nattracts the eagle; he does not flit moth-like about the glimmer of\nmere ephemeral lights.\n\nAfter these three figures, which illustrate the fiery flight, the\ntorrent-fulness, the intoxicating charm of Pindar, one remains by\nwhich the magnetic force and tumult of his poetry may be faintly\nadumbrated. He who has watched a sunset attended by the passing of a\nthunderstorm in the outskirts of the Alps; who has seen the distant\nranges of the mountains alternately obscured by cloud and blazing\nwith the concentrated brightness of the sinking sun, while drifting\nscuds of hail and rain, tawny with sunlight, glistening with broken\nrainbows, clothe peak and precipice and forest in the golden veil\nof flame-irradiated vapor; who has heard the thunder bellow in the\nthwarting folds of hills, and watched the lightning, like a snake's\ntongue, flicker at intervals amid gloom and glory--knows in Nature's\nlanguage what Pindar teaches with the voice of Art. It is only by a\nstrained metaphor like this that any attempt to realize the _Sturm und\nDrang_ of Pindar's style can be communicated. In plainer language,\nPindar, as an artist, combines the strong flight of the eagle, the\nirresistible force of the torrent, the richness of Greek wine, the\nmajestic pageantry of Nature in one of her sublimer moods.\n\nLike all the great lyrists of the Dorian school, Pindar composed odes\nof various species--hymns, prosodia, parthenia, threnoi, scolia,\ndithyrambs, as well as epinikia. Of all but the epinikian odes we\nhave only inconsiderable fragments left; yet these are sublime and\nbeautiful enough to justify us in believing that Pindar surpassed his\nrivals in the threnos and the scolion as far as in the epinikian ode.\nForty-four of his poems we possess entire--fourteen Olympians, twelve\nPythians, eleven Nemeans, seven Isthmians. Of the occasions which led\nto the composition of these odes something must be said. The Olympian\ngames were held in Elis once in five years, during the summer: their\nprize was a wreath of wild olive. The Pythian games were held in\nspring, on the Criss\u00e6an plain, once in five years: their prizes were a\nwreath of laurel and a palm. The Nemean games were held in the groves\nof Nemea, near Cleon\u00e6, in Argolis, once in three years: their prize\nwas a wreath of parsley. The Isthmian games were held at Corinth,\nonce in three years: their prize was a wreath of pine, native to the\nspot. The Olympian festival honored Zeus; that of Pytho, Phoebus;\nthat of Nemea, Zeus; that of the Isthmus, Poseidon. Originally they\nwere all of the nature of a #pan\u00eagyris# or national assembly at the\nshrine of some deity local to the spot, or honored there with more\nthan ordinary reverence. The Isthmian games in particular retained a\nspecial character. Instituted for an Ionian deity, whose rites the men\nof Elis refused to acknowledge, they failed to unite the whole Greek\nrace. The Greek games, like the Schwing-feste and shooting-matches of\nSwitzerland, served as recurring occasions of reunion and fellowship.\nTheir influence in preserving a Panhellenic feeling was very marked.\nDuring the time of the feast, and before and after, for a sufficient\nnumber of days, to allow of travellers journeying to and from Olympia\nand Delphi, hostilities were suspended throughout Hellas; safe-conduct\nwas given through all states to pilgrims. One common feeling animated\nall the Greeks at these seasons: they met in rivalry, not of arms on\nthe battle-field, but of personal prowess in the lists. And though\nthe various families of the Hellenic stock were never united, yet\ntheir games gave them a common object, and tended to the diffusion of\nnational ideas.\n\nLet us pause to imagine the scene which the neighborhood of Olympia\nmust have presented as the great recurring festival of the Greek race\napproached--a festival in the fullest sense of the word popular, but\nat the same time consecrated by religion, dignified by patriotic\npride, adorned with art. The full blaze of summer is overhead; plain\nand hill-side yield no shade but what the spare branches of the olive\nand a few spreading pines afford. Along the road throng pilgrims and\ndeputies, private persons journeying modestly, and public ambassadors\ngorgeously equipped at the expense of their state. Strangers from\nSicily or Cyrene or Magna Gr\u00e6cia land from galleys on the coast of\nElis. Then there are the athletes with their trainers--men who have\nbeen in rude exercise for the prescribed ten months, and whose limbs\nare in the bloom of manly or of boyish strength. Sages, like Gorgias\nor Prodicus or Protagoras, are on their way, escorted by bands of\ndisciples, eager to engage each other in debate beneath the porticos of\nthe Olympian Zeus. Thales or Anaxagoras arrives, big with a new theory\nof the universe. Historians like Herodotus are carrying their scrolls\nto read before assembled Hellas. Epic poets and rhapsodes are furnished\nwith tales of heroes, freshly coined from their own brains or conned\nwith care from Homer. Rich men bring chariots for racing or display;\nthe more a man spends at Olympia, the more he honors his native city.\nWomen, we need not doubt, are also on the road--Hetair\u00e6 from Corinth\nand Cyprus and Ionia. Sculptors show models of their skill. Potters\nexhibit new shapes of vases, with scrolls of honeysuckle wreathing\nround the pictured image of some handsome boy, to attract the eyes of\nbuyers. Painters have their tablets and colors ready. Apart from these\nmore gay and giddy servants of the public taste, are statesmen and\ndiplomatists, plenipotentiaries despatched to feel the pulse of Hellas,\nnegotiators seeking opportunities for safe discussion of the affairs\nof rival cities. Every active brain, or curious eye, or wanton heart,\nor well-trained limb, or skilful hand, or knavish wit may find its fit\nemployment here. A medi\u00e6val pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella or\nSt. Thomas of Canterbury was nothing to this exodus of wit in Greece.\n\nAs they approached Olympia, a splendid scene burst upon the travellers'\neyes--the plain of Elis, rich, deep-meadowed, hoary with olive-trees.\nOne cried to the other, There is the hill of Cronion! There is the\ngrove of Altis! Thither flows Alpheus to the sea! Those white and\nglittering statues are the portraits of the victors! That temple is\nthe house of everlasting Zeus; beneath its roof sits the Thunderer\nof Pheidias! Every step made the journey more exciting. By the bed\nof the Alpheus, tawny in midsummer with dusty oleander-blossoms, the\npilgrims passed. At last they enter the precincts of Olympian Zeus: the\nsacred enclosure is alive with men; the statues among the trees are\nscarcely more wonder-worthy in their glittering marble than are the\nbodies of the athletes moving beneath them. The first preoccupation\nof every Greek who visited Olympia was to see the statue of Zeus. Not\nto have gazed upon this masterpiece of Pheidias was, according to a\nGreek proverb, the unhappiness of life. In this, his greatest work,\nthe Athenian sculptor touched the highest point of art, and incarnated\nthe most sublime conception of Greek religious thought. The god was\nseated on his throne; but, even so, the image rose to the height of\nforty feet, wrought of pure ivory and gold. At his feet stood figures\nsymbolical of victory in the Olympian games: among them the portrait\nof Pantarkes, himself a victor, the youth whom Pheidias loved. In\ndesigning his great statue the sculptor had in mind those lines of\nHomer which describe Zeus nodding his ambrosial locks, and shaking\nOlympus. That he had succeeded in presenting to the eye all that the\nGreek race could imagine of godlike power and holiness and peace was\nattested not only by the universal voice of Hellas, but also by the\nRomans who gazed as conquerors upon the god. Lucius Paulus \u00c6milius,\nwe are told, after the battle of Pydna, swept Greece, and coming to\nOlympia, saw the Pheidian Zeus. He shuddered, and exclaimed that he\nhad set mortal eyes upon the deity incarnate. Yet Paulus was a Roman\ntrampling with his legionaries the subject states of fallen Hellas.\nCicero proclaimed that Pheidias had copied nothing human, but had\ncarved the ideal image existing in an inspired mind.\n\nZeus, it must be remembered, was the supreme god of the Aryan race,\nthe purest divinity of the Greek cultus. He was called Father, Sire\nof gods and men. Therefore his presence in the Panhellenic temple was\npeculiarly appropriate and awe-inspiring. We may imagine the feelings\nof an athlete coming to struggle for the fame of his own city, when\nhe first approached this statue in the august Olympian shrine. The\ngames were held at the time of a full moon; through the hyp\u00e6thral\nopening of the temple roof fell the silver rays aslant upon those\nsolemn lineaments, making the glow of ivory and gold more solemn in the\ndimness of a wondrous gloom.\n\nPresidents chosen from the people of Elis, and named Hellanodikai,\nawarded the prizes and controlled the conduct of the games. From\ntheir decision, in cases of doubt, there was a final appeal to\nthe assembly of Elis. In the morning the heralds opened the lists\nwith this proclamation:[111] \"Now begins the contest that dispenses\nnoblest prizes; time tells you to delay no longer.\" When the runners\nwere ready, the heralds started them with these words, \"Put your\nfeet to the line and run.\" At the end of the day they cried, \"Now\nceases the contest that dispenses noblest prizes; time tells you to\ndelay no longer.\" The victor was crowned with wild olive, and led by\nhis friends to the Temple of Zeus. On the way they shouted the old\nArchilochian chorus, #t\u00eanella kallinike#, to which Pindar alludes in\nthe beginning of his 9th Olympian: \"The song of Archilochus uttered\nat Olympia, the triple cry of Hail Victorious! was enough to conduct\nEpharmostus, leading the revel to the Cronian hill with his comrades.\nBut now, from the far-darting bows of the Muses, approach Zeus of the\nblazing thunder and the holy jutting land of Elis with these mightier\nshafts.\" Sacrifice and banquet took place in the evening; and happy was\nthe athlete who, in this supreme moment, was greeted by Pindar with\nattendant chorus and musicians of the flute and lyre. Three Olympians,\nwhich seem to have been composed and chanted on the spot, survive--the\n4th, the 8th, the 10th. The proemia to these odes, two of which are\nremarkably short, indicating the haste in which they had been prepared,\nsufficiently establish this fact. \"Supreme hurler of the thunderbolt\nthat never tires, Zeus! Thy festival recurring with the season brings\nme with sound of lyre and song to witness august games.\" \"Parent of\ngolden-crowned contests, Olympia, mistress of truth,\" etc. But it\ncould not be expected that the more elaborate of Pindar's compositions\nshould be ready on such occasions. It usually happened that the victor\neither found Pindar at Olympia, or sent a message to him at Thebes,\nand bespoke an ode, adding gifts in accordance with the poet's rank\nand fame. Then Pindar composed his epinikian, which was sung when\nthe conqueror returned to his own city. The ode would be repeated\non successive anniversaries at banquets, sacrificial festivals, and\nprocessions in honor of the victory. The ninth Olympian, which has\nbeen already quoted, was, for example, sung at a banquet in honor of\nEpharmostus of Opus, after the altar of Ajax, son of O\u00efleus, had been\ncrowned. Pindar, as we find from frequent allusions in the odes, had\nsuch a press of work that he often delayed sending his poems at the\nproper time, and had to excuse himself for neglect. In the second\nIsthmian he records a delay of two years. We may add that he did not\ndisdain to accept money for his toil. In the eleventh Pythian he says:\n\"Muse, it is thy part, since thou hast contracted to give thy voice for\ngold, to set it going in various ways.\" In the proemium to the second\nIsthmian he somewhat bitterly laments the necessity that made him sell\nhis songs:\n\n    \"The men of old, Thrasybulus, who climbed the chariot of the\n    gold-crowned Muses, and received a famous lyre, lightly shot\n    their arrows of honey-voiced hymns in praise of boys, of him\n    whose beauty kept the summer bloom of youth, that sweetest\n    souvenir of Aphrodite throned in joy. For the Muse as yet loved\n    not gain, nor worked for hire, nor were sweet and tender songs\n    with silvered faces sold by Terpsichore. But now she bids\n    us keep the Argive's speech in mind; and verily it hits the\n    truth--that money, money, money makes the man. He spoke it when\n    deserted of his riches and his friends.\"\n\nYet we must not suppose that Pindar sang slavishly the praise of every\nbidder. He was never fulsome in his panegyric. He knew how to mingle\neulogy with admonition. If his theme be the wealth of a tyrant like\nHiero, he reminds him of the dangers of ambition and the crime of\navarice. Arcesilaus of Cyrene is warned[112] to remit his sentence\nof banishment in favor of a powerful exile. Victors, puffed up with\nthe pride of their achievements, hear from him how variable is the\nlife of man, how all men are mere creatures of a day. Handsome youths\nare admonished to beware of lawlessness and shun incontinence. Thus\nPindar, while suiting his praises to the persons celebrated, always\ninterweaves an appropriate precept of morality. There was nothing that\nhe hated more than flattery and avarice, and grasping after higher\nhonors than became his station. In him more than in any other poet were\napparent the Greek virtues of #eukosmia#, #s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea#, and all the\nmoral and artistic qualities which were summed up in the motto #m\u00eaden\nagan#.[113] Those who are curious to learn Pindar's opinions on these\npoints may consult the following passages:[114] Nem. viii. 32; id.\nvii. 65; Pyth. xi. 50; Isthm. vii. 40; id. v. 14; and, lastly, Pyth.\nx. 22, which contains this truly beautiful description of a thoroughly\nsuccessful life, as imagined by a Greek:\n\n    \"That man is happy and song-worthy by the skilled, who,\n    victorious by might of hand or vigor of foot, achieves the\n    greatest prizes with daring and with strength; and who in his\n    lifetime sees his son, while yet a boy, crowned happily with\n    Pythian wreaths. The brazen heaven, it is true, is inaccessible\n    to him; but whatsoever joys we race of mortals touch, he\n    reaches to the farthest voyage.\"\n\nWith this we may compare the story of happy lives told by Croesus to\nSolon, and the celebrated four lines of Simonides: \"Health is best for\na mortal man; next, beauty; thirdly, well-gotten wealth; fourthly, the\npleasure of youth among friends.\"\n\nClosely connected with Pindar's ethical beliefs were his religious\nnotions, which were both peculiar and profound. Two things with\nregard to his theology deserve especial notice--its conscious\ncriticism of existing legends, and its strong Pythagorean bias, both\ncombined with true Hellenic orthodoxy in all essentials. One of the\ngreatest difficulties in forming an exact estimate of the creed of a\nphilosophical Greek intellect is to know how to value the admixture\nof scientific scepticism on the one hand, and of purer theism on the\nother. About Pindar's time the body of Hellenic mythology was being\ninvaded by a double process of destructive and constructive criticism.\nXenophanes, for example, very plainly denounced as absurd the\nanthropomorphic Pantheon made in the image of man, while he endeavored\nto substitute a cult of the One God, indivisible and incognizable.\nPlato still further developed the elements suggested by Xenophanes.\nBut there was some inherent incapacity in the Greek intellect for\narriving at monotheism by a process of rarefaction and purification.\nThe destructive criticism which in Xenophanes, Pindar, and Plato had\nassailed the grosser myths, dwindled into unfruitful scepticism. The\nattempts at constructing a rational theosophy ended in metaphysics.\nMorality was studied as a separate branch of investigation, independent\nof destructive criticism and religious construction. Meanwhile the\npopular polytheism continued to flourish, though enfeebled, degenerate,\nand disconnected from the nobler impulses of poetry and art. In Pindar\nthe process of decadence had not begun. He stood at the very highest\npoint which it was possible for a religious Greek to reach--combining\nthe \u00e6sthetically ennobling enthusiasm for the old Greek deities with so\nmuch critical activity as enabled him to reject the grosser myths, and\nwith that moderate amount of theological mysticism which the unassisted\nintellect of the Greeks seemed capable of receiving without degeneracy\ninto puerile superstition. The first Olympian ode contains the most\ndecided passages in illustration of his critical independence of\njudgment:\n\n    \"Impossible is it for me to call one of the blessed ones\n    a glutton: I stand aloof: loss hath often overtaken evil\n    speakers.\"\n\nAgain:\n\n    \"Truly many things are wonderful; and it may be that in some\n    cases fables dressed up with cunning fictions beyond the true\n    account falsify the traditions of men. But beauty, which is the\n    author of all delicious things for mortals, by giving to these\n    myths acceptance, ofttimes makes even what is incredible to be\n    credible: but succeeding time gives the most certain evidence\n    of truth; and for a man to speak nobly of the gods is seemly;\n    for so the blame is less.\"\n\nThese two passages suffice to prove how freely Pindar handled the\nmyths, not indeed exposing them to the corrosive action of mere\nscepticism, but testing them[115] by the higher standard of the healthy\nhuman conscience. When he refuses to believe that the immortals were\ncannibals and ate the limbs of Pelops, he is like a rationalist avowing\nhis disbelief in the savage doctrine of eternal damnation. His doubt\ndoes not proceed from irreligion, but from faith in the immutable\nholiness of the gods, who set the ideal standard of human morality.\nWhat seems to him false in the myths he attributes to the accretions of\nignorant opinion and vain fancy round the truth.\n\nThe mystical element of Pindar's creed, whether we call it Orphic or\nPythagorean, is remarkable for a definite belief in the future life,\nincluding a system of rewards and punishments; for the assertion of\nthe supreme tribunal of conscience,[116] and, finally, for a reliance\non rites of purification. The most splendid passage in which these\nopinions are expressed by Pindar is that portion of the second Olympian\nin which he describes the torments of the wicked and the blessings of\nthe just beyond the grave:\n\n    \"Among the dead, sinful souls at once pay penalty, and the\n    crimes done in this realm of Zeus are judged beneath the earth\n    by one who gives sentence under dire necessity.\n\n    \"But the good, enjoying perpetual sunlight equally by night and\n    day, receive a life more free from woes than this of ours;\n    they trouble not the earth with strength of hand, nor the water\n    of the sea for scanty sustenance; but with the honored of the\n    gods, all they who delighted in the keeping of their oath pass\n    a tearless age: the others suffer woe on which no eye can bear\n    to look. Those who have thrice endured on either side the grave\n    to keep their spirits wholly free from crime, journey on the\n    road of Zeus to the tower of Kronos: where round the islands\n    blow breezes ocean-borne; and flowers of gold burn some on\n    the land from radiant trees, and others the wave feeds; with\n    necklaces whereof they twine their hands and brows, in the just\n    decrees of Rhadamanthus, whom father Kronos has for a perpetual\n    colleague, he who is spouse of Rhea throned above all gods.\n\n    \"Peleus and Cadmus are numbered among these: and thither was\n    Achilles brought by his mother when she swayed the heart of\n    Zeus with prayer: he who slew Hector, the invincible firm\n    pillar of Troy, and gave Cycnus to death and Eo's \u00c6thiopian\n    son.\"\n\nThe following fragments from threnoi[117] translated by Professor\nConington further illustrate Pindar's belief in a future state of weal\nor woe:\n\n    They from whom Persephone\n      Due atonement shall receive\n      For the things that made to grieve,\n    To the upper sunlight she\n    Sendeth back their souls once more,\n    Soon as winters eight are o'er.\n    From those blessed spirits spring\n    Many a great and goodly king,\n    Many a man of glowing might,\n    Many a wise and learned wight:\n    And while after-days endure,\n    Men esteem them heroes pure.\n\nAnd again:\n\n    Shines for them the sun's warm glow\n    When 'tis darkness here below:\n    And the ground before their towers,\n    Meadow-land with purple flowers,\n    Teems with incense-bearing treen,\n    Teems with fruit of golden sheen.\n    Some in steed and wrestling feat,\n    Some in dice take pleasure sweet,\n    Some in harping: at their side\n    Blooms the spring in all her pride.\n    Fragrance all about is blown\n      O'er that country of desire.\n    Ever as rich gifts are thrown\n      Freely on the far-seen fire,\n    Blazing from the altar-stone.\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n      But the souls of the profane,\n        Far from heaven removed below,\n      Flit on earth in murderous pain\n        'Neath the unyielding yoke of woe;\n      While pious spirits tenanting the sky\n      Chant praises to the mighty one on high.\n\nFor Pindar's conception of the destinies of frail humanity, take this\nsublime but melancholy ending to an ode[118] which has been full of\ntriumphant exultation: \"Brief is the growing-time of joy for mortals,\nand briefly, too, doth its flower fall to earth shaken by fell fate.\nThings of a day! what are we--and what are we not! A shadow's dream is\nman. But when the splendor that God gives descends, then there remains\na radiant light and gladsome life for mortals.\" Compare with this the\nopening of the sixth Nemean:\n\n    \"One is the race of men, and one the race of gods; from one\n    mother we both draw breath. But a total difference of force\n    divides us, since man's might is naught, while brazen heaven\n    abideth a sure seat for aye. Nevertheless, we are not all\n    unlike immortals either in our mighty soul or strength of limb,\n    though we know not to what goal of night or day fate hath\n    written down for us to run.\" #/\n\nPassing to the consideration of Pindar purely as an artist, we may\nfirst examine the structure of his odes, and then illustrate the\nqualities of his poetry by reference to some of the more splendid\nproemia and descriptions. The task which lay before him when he\nundertook to celebrate a victory at one of the Greek games was this:\nSome rich man had won a race with his chariot and horses, or some\nstrong man had conquered his competitors by activity or force of limb.\nPindar had to praise the rich man for his wealth and liberality,\nthe strong man for his endurance of training and personal courage\nor dexterity. In both cases the victor might be felicitated on his\ngood-fortune--on the piece of luck which had befallen him; and if he\nwere of comely person or illustrious blood, these also offered topics\nfor congratulation. The three chief commonplaces of Pindar, therefore,\nare #olbos, aret\u00ea, eutychia#, wealth or prosperity, manliness or\nspirit, and blessings independent of both, god-given, not acquired.\nBut it could not be that a great poet should ring the changes only on\nthese three subjects, or content himself with describing the actual\ncontest, which, probably, he had not witnessed. Consequently Pindar\nillustrates his odes with myths or stories bearing more or less closely\non the circumstances of his hero. Sometimes he celebrates the victor's\nancestry, as in the famous sixth Olympian, in which the history of the\nIamid\u00e6 is given; sometimes his city, as in the seventh Olympian, where\nhe describes the birthplace of Diagoras, the island Rhodes; sometimes\nhe dwells upon an incident in the hero's life, as when in the third\nPythian the illness of Hiero suggests the legend of Asclepius and\nCheiron; sometimes a recent event, like the eruption of Etna, alluded\nto in the first Pythian, gives color to his ode; sometimes, as in the\ncase of the last Pythian, where the story of Medusa is narrated, the\nlegendary matter is introduced to specialize the nature of the contest.\nThe victory itself is hardly touched upon: the allusions to #olbos,\naret\u00ea, eutychia#, though frequent and interwoven with the texture\nof the ode, are brief: the whole poetic fabric is so designed as to\nbe appropriate to the occasion and yet independent of it. Therefore\nPindar's odes have not perished with the memory of the events to which\nthey owed their composition.\n\nPindar's peculiar treatment of the epinikian ode may best be\nillustrated by analyzing the structure of one or two of his poems. But\nfirst take this translation of one of the shorter and simpler of the\nseries--the twelfth Pythian:\n\n    To thee, fairest of earthly towns, I pray--\n      Thou splendor-lover, throne of Proserpine,\n    Piled o'er Girgenti's slopes, that feed alway\n      Fat sheep!--with grace of gods and men incline,\n    Great queen, to take this Pythian crown and own\n      Midas; for he of all the Greeks, thy son,\n      Hath triumphed in the art which Pallas won,\n    Weaving of fierce Gorgonian throats the dolorous moan.\n\n    She from the snake-encircled hideous head\n      Of maidens heard the wailful dirges flow,\n    What time the third of those fell Sisters bled\n      By Perseus' hand, who brought the destined woe\n    To vexed Seriphos. He on Phorkys' brood\n      Wrought ruin, and on Polydectes laid\n    Stern penance for his mother's servitude,\n      And for her forceful wedlock, when he slew the maid\n\n    Medusa. He by living gold, they say,\n      Was got on Dana\u00eb: but Pallas bore\n    Her hero through those toils, and wrought the lay\n      Of full-voiced flutes to mock the ghastly roar\n    Of those strong jaws of grim Euryale:\n      A goddess made and gave to men the flute,\n    The fountain-head of many a strain to be,\n      That ne'er at game or nation's feast it might be mute,\n\n    Sounding through subtle brass and voiceful reeds,\n      Which near the city of the Graces spring\n    By fair Cephisus, faithful to the needs\n      Of dancers. Lo! there cometh no good thing\n    Apart from toils to mortals, though to-day\n      Heaven crown their deeds: yet shun we not the laws\n      Of Fate; for times impend when chance withdraws\n    What most we hoped, and what we hoped not gives for aye.\n\nHere it will be seen that Pindar introduces his subject with a\npanegyric of Girgenti, his hero's birthplace. Then he names Midas,\nand tells the kind of triumph he has gained. This leads him to the\nlegend of Medusa. The whole is concluded with moral reflections on the\ninfluence of fate over human destinies. The structure of the sixth\nPythian is also very simple. \"I build an indestructible treasure-house\nof praise for Xenocrates (lines 1-18), which Thrasybulus, his son,\ngained for him; as Antilochus died for Nestor (19-43), so Thrasybulus\nhas done what a son could do for his father (44-46); wise and fair is\nhe in his youth; his company is sweeter than the honeycomb\" (47-54).\nOne of the longest odes, the fourth Pythian, is constructed thus:\n\"Muse! celebrate Arcesilaus (1-5). Cyrene, Arcesilaus's home; its\nfoundation and the oracle given to Battus (5-69). The tale of the\nArgonauts, ancestors of the founders of Thera and of Cyrene (69-262).\nAdvice to Arcesilaus in the interest of Demophilus\" (263-299). Here\nthe victory at Pytho is but once briefly alluded to (l. 64). The whole\node consists of pedigree and political admonition, either directly\nadministered at the end, or covertly conveyed through the example of\nPelias. The sixth Olympian, which contains the pedigree of the Iamid\u00e6,\nis framed on similar principles. The third Pythian introduces its\nmythology by a different method: \"I wish I could restore Cheiron, the\nhealer and the tutor of Asclepius, to life (1-7). The story of Coronis,\nher son Asclepius, and Hippolytus (7-58). Moral, to be content and\nsubmit to mortality (58-62). Yet would that Cheiron might return and\nheal Hiero (62-76)! I will pray; and do you, Hiero, remember that\nHeaven gives one blessing and two curses, and that not even Cadmus\nand Peleus were always fortunate (77-106). May I suit myself always\nto my fortune!\" (107-115). The whole of this ode relates to Hiero's\nillness, and warns him of vicissitudes: even the episode of Coronis\nand Asclepius contains a covert warning against arrogance, while it\ngracefully alludes to Hiero's health.\n\nThe originality and splendor of Pindar are most noticeable in the\nopenings of his odes--the proemia, as they are technically called. It\nwould appear that he possessed an inexhaustible storehouse of radiant\nimagery, from which to draw new thoughts for the commencement of his\npoems. In this region, which most poets find but barren, he displayed\nthe fullest vigor and fertility of fancy. Sometimes, but rarely,\nthe opening is simple, as in the second Olympian: \"Hymns that rule\nthe lyre! what god, what hero, what man shall we make famous?\" Or\nthe ninth Pythian: \"I wish to proclaim, by help of the deep-girdled\nGraces, brazen-shielded Telesicrates, Pythian victor,\" etc. Rather\nmore complex are the following: Nem. iv., \"The joy of the feast is the\nbest physician after toil; but songs, the wise daughters of the Muses,\nsoothe the victor with their touch: warm water does not so refresh and\nsupple weary limbs as praise attended by the lyre;\" or again: Ol. xi.,\n\"There is a time when men have greatest need of winds; there is when\nheaven's showers of rain, children of the cloud, are sorest sought\nfor. But if a man achieves a victory with toil, then sweet-voiced\nhymns arise as the beginning of future fame,\" etc., etc. But soon we\npass into a more gorgeous region. \"As when with golden columns reared\nbeneath the well-walled palace-porch we build a splendid hall, so will\nI build my song. At the beginning of the work we must make the portal\nradiant.\"[119] Or again: \"No carver of statues am I, to fashion figures\nstationary on their pedestal; but come, sweet song! on every argosy\nand skiff set forth from \u00c6gina to proclaim that Pytheas, Lampon's son,\nby strength of might is victor in Nemean games, upon whose chin and\ncheek you see not yet the tender mother of the vine-flower, summer's\nbloom.\"[120] Or again: \"Hallowed bloom of youth, herald of Aphrodite's\nambrosial pleasures, who, resting on the eyelids of maidens and of\nboys, bearest one aloft with gentle hands of violence, but another\nrudely!\"[121] Or once again, in a still grander style:\n\n    \"Listen! for verily it is of beauty's queen, or of the\n    Graces, that we turn the glebe, approaching the rocky centre\n    of the deep-voiced earth: where for the blest Emmenid\u00e6 and\n    stream-washed Acragas, yea, and for Zenocrates, is built a\n    treasure-house of Pythian hymns in the golden Apollonian vale.\n    This, no rain of winter, driving on the wings of wind the\n    pitiless army of the rushing cloud, no hurricane shall toss,\n    storm-lashed with pebbles of the uptorn beach, into the briny\n    ocean caves; but in pure light its glorious face shall speak\n    the victory that brings a common fame on thy sire, Thrasybulus,\n    and thy race, remaining in the windings of Crissean\n    valleys.\"[122]\n\nWe have already seen how Pindar compares his odes to arrows, to\nsun-soaring eagles, to flowers of the Muses, to wine in golden\ngoblets, to water, to a shrine which no years will fret away. Another\nstrange figure[123] may be quoted from the third Nemean (line 76):\n\"I send to thee this honey mingled with white milk; the dew of their\nmingling hangs around the bowl, a draught of song, flowing through the\n\u00c6olian breath of flutes.\" It will be perceived that to what is called\nconfusion of metaphors Pindar shows a lordly indifference. Swift and\nsudden lustre, the luminousness of a meteor, marks this monarch of\nlyric song. He grasps an image, gives it a form of bronze, irradiates\nit with the fire of flame or down-poured sunlight.\n\nTo do justice to Pindar's power of narrative by extracts and\ntranslations is impossible. No author suffers more by mutilation and by\nthe attempt to express in another language and another rhythm what he\nhas elaborately fashioned. Yet it may be allowed me to direct attention\nto the rapidity with which the burning of Coronis (Pyth. iii. 38) and\nthe birth of Rhodes from the sea (Ol. vii. 54) are told in words the\ngrandest, simplest, and most energetic that could be found. This is the\nbirth of Iamos (Ol. vi. 39):\n\n    Nor could she hide from \u00c6pytus the seed\n      Divine: but he to Pytho, chewing care,\n    Journeyed to gain for this great woe some rede;\n      She loosening her crimson girdle fair,\n    And setting on the ground her silver jar,\n      Beneath the darksome thicket bare a son,\n    Within whose soul flamed godhead like a star;\n      And to her aid the golden-haired sent down\n    Mild Eleithuia and the awful Fates,\n    Who stood beside, while from the yearning gates\n\n    Of childbirth, with a brief and joyous pain,\n      Came Iamos into the light, whom she therewith\n    Sore-grieving left upon the grass: amain\n      By gods' decree two bright-eyed serpents lithe\n    Tended, and with the harmless venom fed\n      Of bees, the boy; nor ceased they to provide\n    Due nurture. But the king, what time he sped\n      Homeward from rocky Pytho, to his side\n    Called all his household, asking of the son\n    Born of Evadne, for he said that none\n\n    But Phoebus was the sire, and he should be\n      Chief for his prophecy 'mid mortal men,\n    Nor should his children's seed have end. Thus he\n      Uttered the words oracular: and then\n    They swore they had not heard or seen the child,\n      Now five days old; but he within the reed\n    And thick-entangled woodland boskage wild,\n      His limbs 'mid golden beams and purple brede\n    Of gillyflowers deep-sunken, lay; wherefore\n    He by his mother's wish for all time bore\n\n    That deathless name. But when he plucked the flower\n      Of golden-wreath\u00e9d youth, he went and stood\n    Midmost Alpheus, at the midnight hour,\n      And called upon the ruler of the flood,\n    His ancestor Poseidon, and the lord\n      Of god-built Delos, praying that he might\n    Rear up some race to greatness. Then the word\n      Responsive of his sire upon the night\n    Sounded:--'Arise, my son, go forth and fare\n    Unto the land whereof all men shall share!'\n\n    So came they to the high untrodden mound\n      Of Cronion; and there a double meed\n    Of prophecy on Iamos was bound,\n      Both from the voice that knows no lie to heed\n    Immortal words, and next, when Herakles,\n      Bold in his counsels, unto Pisa came,\n    Founding the festivals of sacred peace\n      And mighty combats for his father's fame,\n    Then on the topmost altar of Jove's hill,\n    The seat of sooth oracular to fill.\n\nAfter so much praise of Pindar's style, it must be confessed that\nhe has faults. One of these is notoriously tumidity--an overblown\nexaggeration of phrase. For example, when he wants to express that\nhe cannot enlarge on the fame of \u00c6gina, but will relate as quickly\nas he can the achievements of Aristomenes which he has undertaken,\nhe says: \"But I am not at leisure to consecrate the whole long tale\nto the lyre and delicate voice, lest satiety should come and cause\nannoy; but that which is before my feet shall go at running speed--thy\naffair, my boy--the latest of the noble deeds made winged by means\nof my art.\"[124] The imaginative force which enabled him to create\nepithets like #Philaglaos#, #pamporphyros#, and to put them exactly in\ntheir proper places, like blocks of gleaming alabaster or of glowing\nporphyry--for the architectural power over language is eminent in\nPindar; the Titanic faculty of language which produced such phrases as\n#ex adamantos \u00ea sidarou kechalkeutai melainan kardian psychr\u00e2i phlogi#,\ndid also betray him into expressions as pompous and frigid as these:\n#poikilophormingos aoidas ... schoinoteneia t' aoida dithyramb\u00f4n#.\nThese, poured forth by Pindar in the insolence of prodigality, when\nimitated by inferior poets, produced that inflated manner of lyrical\ndiction which Aristophanes ridicules in Kinesias. The same may be said\nabout his mixed metaphors, whereof the following are fair examples:\n\n    #doxan ech\u00f4 tin' epi gl\u00f4ss\u00e2i akonas ligyras\n    ha m' ethelonta proselkei kallirooisi pnoais.#--Ol. vi. 82.\n\n    #K\u00f4pan schason tachy d' ankyran ereison chthoni\n    pr\u00f4irathe choirados alkar petras\n    enk\u00f4mi\u00f4n gar a\u00f4tos hymn\u00f4n\n    ep' allot' allon h\u00f4te melissa thynei logon.#--Pyth. x. 51.\n\nNor are these the worst, perhaps, of the sort which might be chosen:\nfor Pindar uses images like precious stones, setting them together in a\nmass, without caring to sort them, so long as they produce a gorgeous\nshow. Apparent incoherences, involving difficulty to the reader, and\nproducing a superficial effect of obscurity, constitute another class\nof his alleged faults--due partly to his allusive and elliptical style,\npartly to his sudden transitions, partly to the mixture of his images.\nIncapable of what is commonplace, too fiery to trudge, like Simonides,\nalong the path of rhetorical development, infinitely more anxious to\nrealize by audacity the thought that seizes him than to make it easy to\nhis hearer, Pindar is obscure to all who are unwilling to assimilate\ntheir fancy to his own. La Harpe called the Divine Comedy _une\namplification stupidement barbare_: what, if he had found occasion to\nspeak the truth of his French mind, would he have said about the Odes\nof Pindar? Another difficulty, apart from these of verbal style and\nimagination, is derived from the fact that the mechanism of Pindar's\npoetry, carefully as it is planned, is no less carefully concealed. He\nseems to take delight in trying to solve the problem of how slight a\nsuggestion can be made to introduce a lengthy narrative. The student is\nobliged to maintain his attention at the straining-point if an ode of\nPindar's, even after patient analysis, is to present more than a mass\nof confused thoughts and images to his mind. But when he has caught the\npoet's drift, how delicate is the machinery, how beautiful is the art,\nwhich governs this most sensitive fabric of linked melodies! What the\nhearers made of these odes--the athletes for whom they were written,\nthe handsome youths praised in them, the rich men at whose tables they\nwere chanted--remains an impenetrable mystery. Had the Greek race\nperceptions infinitely finer than ours? Or did the classic harmonies\nof Pindar sweep over their souls, ruffling the surface merely, but\nleaving the deeps untouched, as the soliloquies of _Hamlet_ or the\nprofound philosophy of _Troilus and Cressida_ must have been lost upon\nthe groundlings of Elizabeth's days, who caught with eagerness at the\nqueen's poisoned goblet or the by-play of Sir Pandarus? That is a\nproblem we cannot solve. All we know for certain is, that even allowing\nfor the currency of Pindar's language and for the familiarity of his\naudience with the circumstances under which his odes were composed,\nas well as with their mythological allusions, these poems must at all\ntimes have been more difficult to follow than Bach's fugue in G minor\nto a man who cannot play the organ.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[104] This and all references are made to Bergk's text of Pindar.\n\n[105] See above, p. 303.\n\n[106] Translated by Conington, from Fragment ii. of _Dirges_.\n\n[107] _Purg._, ix. 19.\n\n[108] _Carm._, iv. 2. Translated thus by Conington:\n\n    Pindar, like torrent from the steep\n    Which, swollen with rain, its banks o'erflows,\n    With mouth unfathomably deep,\n    Foams, thunders, glows.\n\n[109] 7th Ol.\n\n[110] Compare this with the passage in Pythian, iii. 68, where Pindar\ndescribes himself #Ionian temn\u00f4n thalassan#.\n\n[111] Bergk, _Poet\u00e6 Lyrici_, p. 1301.\n\n[112] Pyth. iv. 263.\n\n[113] These pregnant words imply self-government and self-restraint\nin obedience to a high ideal of order and symmetry, as opposed to the\nperils and the uncomeliness of extravagance.\n\n[114] \"Hateful of a truth, even in days of old, was treacherous\nblandishment, attendant of wily words designing guile, mischief-making\nslander, which loves to wrest the splendor of fame and to maintain the\nunreal honors of ignoble men. Never may such be my temper, Zeus, my\nfather! but may I follow the plain paths of life, that, dying, I may\nleave no foul fame to my children. Some pray for gold, and some for\nvast lands; but I to please my countrymen, and so to hide my limbs\nbeneath the earth, praising where praise is due, and sowing blame for\nsinful men. Virtue grows and blooms, like a tree that shoots up under\nfostering dews, when skilled men and just raise it towards the liquid\nair.\" ... \"Among my fellow-citizens I look with brightness in my eye,\nnot having overstepped due bounds, and having removed from before my\nfeet all violence. May future time come kindly to me.\" ... \"May I\nobtain from Heaven the desire of what is right, aiming at things within\nmy powers in my prime of life. For finding, as I do, that the middle\nstatus in a city flourishes with more lasting prosperity, I deprecate\nthe lot of kings.\" ... \"Passing the pleasure of the days, I gently\nglide towards old age and man's destined end; for all alike we die: yet\nis our fortune unequal; and if a man seek far, short is his strength to\nreach the brazen seat of the gods: verily winged Pegasus cast his lord\nBellerophon, who sought to come into the dwellings of the heaven, unto\nthe company of Zeus.\" ... \"Seek not to be Zeus, ... mortal fortunes are\nfor mortal men.\"\n\n[115] Compare for a similar freedom of judgment Antigone's famous\nspeech on the unwritten Laws.\n\n[116] The conscience forms a strong point in the ethical systems\nof many of the ancients, especially of Plato, of Lucretius, of\nPersius--authors otherwise dissimilar enough as representing three\ndistinct species of thought. In mythology it receives an imperfect\nembodiment in the Erinnyes, who, however, are spiritual forces acting\nfrom without, rather than from within, upon the criminal. Purifying\nrites belonged to the Mysteries, or #teletai#; they formed a prominent\nfeature in the ethics of Empedocles and Pythagoras, and an integral\npart of the cult of Apollo and the nether deities. Philosophers like\nPlato rejected them as pertaining to ceremonial superstition.\n\n[117] Bunsen's _God in History_, vol. ii. pp. 144 and 136.\n\n[118] Pyth. viii.\n\n[119] Ol. vi.\n\n[120] Nem. v.\n\n[121] Nem. viii.\n\n[122] Pyth. vi.\n\n[123] Compare, too, Nem. vii. 11, 62, 77.\n\n[124] Pyth. viii. 30.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n_\u00c6SCHYLUS._\n\n    Life of \u00c6schylus.--Nature of his Inspiration.--The\n        Theory of Art in the _Ion_ of Plato.--\u00c6schylus and\n        Sophocles.--What \u00c6schylus accomplished for the Attic\n        Drama.--His Demiurgic Genius.--Colossal Scale of his\n        Work.--Marlowe.--Oriental Imagery.--Absence of Love\n        as a Motive in his Plays.--The Organic Vitality of\n        his Art.--Opening Scenes.--Messenger.--Chorus.--His\n        Theology.--Destiny in \u00c6schylus.--The Domestic Curse.--His\n        Character-drawing.--Clytemnestra.--Difficulty of Dealing\n        with the _Prometheus_.--What was his Fault?--How was\n        Zeus justified?--Shelley's Opinion.--The Last Trilogy\n        of _Prometheus_.--Middle Plays in Trilogies.--Attempt\n        to Reconstruct a _Prometheis_.--The Part of\n        Herakles.--Obscurity of the Promethean Legend.--The\n        Free Handling of Myths permitted to the Dramatist.--The\n        _Oresteia_.--Its Subject.--The Structure of the Three\n        Plays.--The _Agamemnon_.--Its Imagery.--Cassandra.--The\n        Cry of the King.--The Chorus.--Iphigeneia at the\n        Altar.--Menelaus abandoned by Helen.--The Dead Soldiers\n        on the Plains of Troy.--The _Pers\u00e6_.--The Crime of\n        Xerxes.--Irony of the Situation.--Description of the Battle\n        of Salamis.--The Style of \u00c6schylus.--His Religious Feeling.\n\n\n\u00c6schylus, son of Euphorion, was born at Eleusis in 525 B.C. When he\nwas thirty-five years of age, just ten years after the production of\nhis first tragedy, he fought at Marathon. This fact is significant\nin its bearing on his art and on his life. \u00c6schylus belonged to a\nfamily distinguished during the decisive actions of the Persian war by\ntheir personal bravery. Ameinias, his brother, gained the _aristeia_,\nor reward for valor, at the battle of Salamis; and there was an old\npicture in the theatre of Dionysus at Athens which represented the\ngreat deeds of the poet and his brother Cyn\u00e6geirus at Marathon. Of his\nmilitary achievements he was more proud than of his poetical success;\nfor he mentions the former and is silent about the latter in the\nepitaph he wrote for his own tomb. Of his actual life at Athens, we\nonly know this much, that he sided with the old aristocratic party.\nHis retirement to Sicily after his defeat by Sophocles in 468 B.C.\narose probably from the fact that Cimon, who adjudged the prize, was\nleader of the democratic opposition, and was felt to have allowed his\npolitical leanings to influence his decision. His second retirement to\nSicily in 453 B.C., after the production of the _Oresteia_, in which\nhe unsuccessfully supported the Areiopagus against Pericles, was due,\nperhaps, in like manner to his disagreement with the rising powers in\nthe State. That at some period of his career he was publicly accused of\nimpiety, because he had either divulged the mysteries of Demeter, or\nhad offended popular taste by his presentation of the _Furies_ on the\nstage, rests upon sufficient antique testimony. Such charges were not\nuncommon at Athens, as might be proved by the biographies of Anaxagoras\nand Socrates. But the exact nature of the prosecution directed against\n\u00c6schylus is not known; we cannot connect it with any of his extant\nworks for certain, or determine how far it affected his action. He died\nat Gela, in 456 B.C., aged sixty-nine, having spent his life partly at\nAthens and partly at the court of Hiero, pursuing in both places his\nprofession of tragic poet and chorus-master.\n\nPausanias tells a story of his early vocation to dramatic art: \"When\nhe was a boy he was set to watch grapes in the country, and there\nfell asleep. In his slumber Dionysus appeared to him, and ordered him\nto apply himself to tragedy. At daybreak he made the attempt, and\nsucceeded very easily.\" There is no reason that this legend should not\nhave been based on truth. It was the general opinion of antiquity that\n\u00c6schylus was a poet possessed by the deity, working less by artistic\nmethod than by immediate inspiration. Athen\u00e6us asserts crudely that he\ncomposed his tragedies while drunk with wine: #methy\u00f4n goun egraphe tas\ntrag\u00f4idias#; and Sophocles is reported to have told him that \"He did\nwhat he ought to do, but did it without knowing.\" Longinus, in like\nmanner, after praising \u00c6schylus for the audacity of his imagination\nand the heroic grandeur of his conceptions, adds that his plays were\nfrequently unpolished, unrefined, ill-digested, and rough in style.\nSimilar expressions of opinion might be quoted from Quintilian, who\ndescribes his style \"as sublime and weighty, and grandiloquent often to\na fault, but in most of his compositions rude and wanting in order.\"\nHe adds that \"the Athenians allowed later poets to correct his dramas\nand to bring them into competition under new forms, when many of them\ngained prizes.\" \u00c6schylus seems, therefore, to have impressed critics of\nantiquity with the god-intoxicated passion of his genius rather than\nwith the perfection of his style or the consummate beauty of his art.\nIt is possible that he received less justice from his fellow-countrymen\nthan we, who have been educated by the Shakespearian drama, can now pay\nhim.\n\n\u00c6schylus might be selected to illustrate the artistic psychology of\nPlato. In the _Ph\u00e6drus_ Plato lays down the doctrine that poetic\ninspiration is akin to madness--an efflation from the Muses, a divine\nmania analogous to love. In the _Ion_ he further develops this\nposition, and asserts that \"all good poets compose their beautiful\npoems not as works of art, but because they are inspired and\npossessed.\" The analogy which he selects is drawn from the behavior of\nBacchantes under the influence of Dionysus. He wishes to distinguish\nbetween the mental operations of the poet and the philosopher, to show\nthat the regions of poetry and science are separate, and to prove that\nrule and method are less sure guides than instinct when the work to be\nproduced is a poem. \"The poet is a light and winged and holy thing, and\nthere is no invention in him until he has been inspired and is out of\nhis senses, and the mind is no longer in him; when he has not attained\nto this state, he is powerless and is unable to utter his oracles.\"\nThe final dictum of the _Ion_ is, \"inspiration, not art\"--#theion\nkai m\u00ea technikon#. It is curious to find a Greek of the best age,\nhimself in early days a poet, and throughout distinguished by genius\nallied to the poetic, thus boldly and roundly stating a theory which\ncorresponds to the vulgar notion that poetry comes by nature, untutored\nand untaught, and which seems to contradict the practice and opinion\nof supreme authorities like Sophocles and Goethe. The truth is, that\namong artists we find two broadly differentiated types. The one kind\nproduce their best work when all their faculties are simultaneously\nexcited, and when the generative impulse takes possession of them.\nThey seem to obey the dictates of a power superior to their ordinary\nfaculties. The other kind are always conscious of their methods and\ntheir aims; they do nothing, as it were, by accident; they avoid\nimprovisation, and subordinate their creative faculty to reason. The\nlaws of art may be just as fully appreciated by the more instinctive\nartists, and may have equally determined their choice of form and their\ncalculation of effects; but at the moment of production these rules are\nthrust into the background, whereas they are continually present to the\nminds of the deliberate workers. It may be said in passing that this\ndistinction enables us to understand some phrases which the Italians,\nacutely sensitive to artistic conditions, have reserved for passionate\nand highly inspired workers; they speak, for instance, of painting a\npicture or blocking out a statue _con furia_, when the artist is a\nTintoretto or a Michael Angelo. If there is any truth at all in this\nanalysis, we are justified in believing that \u00c6schylus belonged to the\nformer and Sophocles to the latter class of poets, and that this is the\nsecret of the criticism passed by Sophocles upon his predecessor. The\naccount which \u00c6schylus himself gave of his tragedies throws no light\nupon his method; he is reported to have said that they were \"fragments\npicked up from the mighty feasts of Homer.\" The value he attached to\nthem is proved by his saying that he dedicated what he wrote to Time.\n\nThough the ancients may have been right in regarding \u00c6schylus as\nan enthusiastic writer, obeying the impulse of the god within him\nrather than the rules of reason, no dramatic poet ever had a higher\nsense of the \u00e6sthetic unity which tragedy demands. Each of his\nmasterpieces presents to the imagination a coherent and completely\norganized whole; every part is penetrated with the dominant thought\nand passion that inspired it. He had, moreover, the strongest sense\nof the formal requirements of his art. Tragedy had scarcely passed\nbeyond the dithyrambic stage when he received it from the hands of\nPhrynichus. \u00c6schylus gave it the form which, with comparatively\nunimportant alterations, it maintained throughout the brilliant period\nof Attic culture. It was he who curtailed the function of the chorus\nand developed dialogue, thus expanding the old Thespian elements of\ntragedy in accordance with the true spirit of the drama. By adding a\nsecond actor, by attending diligently to the choric songs and dances,\nby inventing the cothurnus and the tragic mask, and by devising\nmachinery and scenes adapted to the large scale of the Athenian stage,\nhe gave its permanent form to the dramatic art of the Greeks. However\ngod-possessed he may have been during the art of composition, he was\ntherefore a wise critic and a potent founder in all matters pertaining\nto the theatre. Yet though \u00c6schylus in this way made the drama, the\nstyle in which he worked went out of date in his own lifetime. So\nrapid was the evolution of intelligence at Athens that during a single\ngeneration his tragedies became, we will not say old-fashioned, but\narchaic. They were duly put upon the stage; a chorus at the public\nexpense was provided for their representation, and the MS. which\nauthorized their canon and their text was regarded as a public\ntreasure. Yet the Athenians already had come to love and respect them\nin the same way as the English race love and respect the oratorios of\nHandel. They praised them for their unapproachable magnificence; they\nknew that no man of the latter days could match them in their own kind;\nbut they criticised their antique form and obsolete embellishments.\nThe poet who in his youth had played the part of innovator, and who\nhad shocked the public by his realistic presentation of the Furies,\ndepended in the heyday of the fame of Aristophanes upon conservative\nsupport and favor.\n\n\u00c6schylus was essentially the demiurge of ancient art. The purely\ncreative faculty has never been exhibited upon a greater scale, or\napplied to material more utterly beyond the range of feebler poets.\nHe possessed in the highest degree the power of giving life and form\nto the vast, the incorporeal, and the ideal. In his dramas, mountains\nwere made to speak; Oceanus received shape, conversing face to face\nwith the Titan Prometheus, while his daughters, nurslings of the waves\nand winds, were gathered on the Scythian crags in groups to listen to\ntheir argument. The old intangible, half-mystical, half-superstitious\nfears of the Greek conscience became substantial realities in his mind.\nJustice and Insolence and At\u00e9 no longer floated, dream-like, in the\nbackground of religious thought: he gave them a pedigree, connected\nthem in a terrible series, and established them as ministers of supreme\nZeus. The Eumenides, whom the Greeks before him had not dared to figure\nto their fancy, assumed a form more hideous than that of Gorgons or\nHarpies. Their symbolic torches, their snake-entwined tresses, their\ndreadful eyes, and nostrils snorting fiery breath, were shown for the\nfirst time visibly in the trilogy of _Orestes_. It was a revelation\nwhich Greek art accepted as decisive. Thus the imagination of \u00c6schylus\nadded new deities to the Athenian Pantheon. The same creative faculty\nenabled him to inform elemental substances, fire, water, air, with\npersonal vitality. The heaven, in his verse, yearns to wound the earth\nwith love-embraces; the falling rain impregnates the rich soil. The\nthroes of \u00c6tna are a Titan's groaning. The fire that leaps from Ida to\nthe Herm\u00e6an crags of Lemnos, from \u00c6giplanctus to the Arachn\u00e6an height,\nhas life within it. There is nothing dead, devoid of soul, in the world\nof this arch-mythopoet. Even the ghosts and phantoms, dreams and omens,\non which he loves to dwell, are substantial. Their reality exists\noutside the soul they dominate.\n\nAs befits a demiurgic nature, \u00c6schylus conceived and executed upon a\nstupendous scale. His outlines are huge; his figures are colossal; his\nstyle is broad and sweeping--like a river in its fulness and its might.\nEach of his plays might be compared to a gigantic statue, whereof the\nseveral parts, taken separately, are beautiful, while the whole is put\ntogether with majestic harmony. But as the sculptor, in modelling a\ncolossus, cannot afford to introduce the details which would grace a\nchimney ornament, so \u00c6schylus was forced to sacrifice the working-out\nof minor motives. His imagination, penetrated through and through with\nthe spirit of his subject as a whole, was more employed in presenting\na series of great situations, wrought together and combined into a\nsingle action, than in elaborating the minuti\u00e6 of characters and plots.\nThe result has been that those students who delight in detail have\ncomplained of a certain disproportion between his huge design and his\ninsufficient execution. It has too frequently been implied that he\ncould rough-hew like a Cyclops, but that he could not finish like a\nPraxiteles; that he was more capable of sketching in an outline than of\nfilling up its parts. Fortunately we possess the means of laying bare\nthe misconception upon which these complaints are founded. There still\nremains one, but only one, of his colossal works entire. The _Oresteia_\nis sufficient to prove that we gain no insight into his method as\nan artist if we consider only single plays. He thought and wrote in\ntrilogies. Sophocles, with whom it is usual to compare \u00c6schylus,\nsomewhat to the disadvantage of the latter, abandoned the large scale,\nthe uncial letters, of the trilogy. Each separate Sophoclean drama is\na studied whole. In order to do \u00c6schylus the very barest justice, we\nought therefore to contrast, not the _Agamemnon_ alone, but the entire\n_Oresteia_ with the _Oedipus_ or the _Antigone_. It will then be seen\nthat the one poet, designing colossi, gave them the style and finish\nand the unity which suit a statue larger than life-size; the other,\nrestricting himself within more narrow limits, was free to lavish labor\non the slightest details of his model. Such elaboration, on the scale\nadopted by \u00c6schylus, would have produced a bewildering and painful\neffect of complexity. The vast design, which it was the artist's\nobject to throw into the utmost possible relief, would inevitably have\nsuffered from excess of finish.\n\nFew dramatists have ventured, like \u00c6schylus, to wield the chisel of\na Titan, or to knead whole mountains into statues corresponding to\nthe superhuman grandeur of their thought. Few, indeed, can have felt\nthat this was their true province, that to this they had the thews and\nsinews adequate. He stands alone in his triumphant use of the large\nmanner, and this solitude is prejudicial to his fame with students\nwhose taste has been formed in the school of Sophocles. Surveying the\nlong roll of illustrious tragedians, there is but one, until we come\nto Victor Hugo, in whom the \u00c6schylean spirit found fresh incarnation;\nand he had fallen upon days disadvantageous to his full development:\nhis life was cut short in its earliest bloom, and the conditions under\nwhich he had to work, obscure and outcast from society, were adverse\nto the highest production. This poet is our own Christopher Marlowe.\nLike \u00c6schylus, Marlowe's imagination was at home in the illimitable;\nlike \u00c6schylus, he apprehended immaterial and elemental forces--lusts,\nambitions, and audacities of soul--as though they were substantial\nentities, and gave them shape and form; like \u00c6schylus, he was the\nmaster of a \"mighty line,\" the maker of a new celestial music for\nhis race, the founder and creator of an art which ruled his century,\nthe mystagogue of pomps and pageants and things terrible and things\nsuperb in shrines unvisited by earlier poets of his age and clime; like\n\u00c6schylus, he stands arraigned of emptiness, extravagance, and \"sound\nand fury,\" because the scale on which he wrought was vast, because he\nset no verbal limit to the presentation of the passion or the thought\nin view. Comparing \u00c6schylus to Marlowe is comparing the monarch of\nthe pine forest to the sapling fir, the full-grown lion to the lion's\nwhelp, the achievement of the hero to the promise of the stripling.\nYet Herakles in his cradle, when he strangled Hera's serpents, already\nrevealed the firm hand and unflinching nerve of him who plucked the\ngolden fruit of the Hesperides. Even so Marlowe's work betrays the\nstyle and spirit of a youthful Titan; it is the labor of a beardless\n\u00c6schylus, the first-fruit of Apollo's laurel-bough untimely burned,\nthe libation of a consecrated priest who, while a boy, already stood\n\"chin-deep in the Pierian flood.\" If we contrast the _Supplices_, which\n\u00c6schylus can hardly have written before the age at which Marlowe died,\nwith _Tamburlaine_, which was certainly produced before Marlowe was\ntwenty-six, the most immature work of the Greek with the most immature\nwork of the English dramatist, we obtain a standard for estimating the\nheight to which the author of _Faustus_ might have grown if he had\nlived to write his _Oresteia_ in the fulness of a vigorous maturity.\n\nMuch that has been described as Asiatic in the genius of \u00c6schylus may\nbe referred to what I have called his demiurgic force. No mere citation\nof Oriental similes will account for the impression of hugeness left\nupon our memory, for the images enormous as those of farthest Ind, yet\nshaped with true Hellenic symmetry, for the visions vast as those of\nEzekiel, yet conveyed withal in rich and radiant Greek. The so-called\nAsiatic element in \u00c6schylus was something which he held in common with\nthe poets and prophets of the East--a sense of life more mystic and\nmore deep, a power to seize it and discover it more real and plastic\nthan is often given to the nations of the West. This determination\ntowards the hitherto invisible, unshaped, and unbelieved, to which\nhe must give form, and for which he would fain win credence, may\npossibly help to explain the absence of human love as a main motive\nin his tragedies. There is plenty of Ares--too much, indeed, unless\nwe recollect that the poet was a man of Marathon--but of Aphrodite\nnothing in his inspiration. It would seem that this passion, which\nformed the theme of Euripides' best work, and which Sophocles in the\n_Antigone_ used to enhance the tragic situation brought about through\nthe self-will of the heroine, had no attraction for \u00c6schylus. Among\nthe fragments of his plays there is, indeed, one passage in which\nhe speaks of love as a cosmical force, controlling the elemental\npowers of heaven and earth, and producing the flocks and fruits which\nsustain mortal life. The lines in question are put into the mouth of\nAphrodite. The lost _Myrmidones_, again, described the love of Achilles\nfor Patroclus, which \u00c6schylus seems to have portrayed with a strength\nof passion that riveted the attention of antiquity. The plot of the\n_Supplices_, in like manner, implies the lawless desire of the sons of\n\u00c6gyptus for the daughters of Danaus; and the adultery of Clytemnestra\nwith \u00c6gisthus lies in the background of the _Agamemnon_. But of\nlove in the more romantic modern sense of the word we find no trace\neither in the complete plays or in the fragments of \u00c6schylus. It lay,\nperhaps, too close at hand for him to care to choose it as the theme\nof tragic poetry; and, had he so selected it, he could hardly have\navoided dwelling on its aberrations. The general feeling of the Greeks\nabout love, as well as his own temper, would have made this necessary.\nIt did not occur to the Greeks to separate love in its healthy and\nsimple manifestations by any sharp line of demarcation from the other\nemotions of humanity. The brotherly, filial, and wifely feelings--those\nwhich owe their ascendency to use and to the sanctities of domestic\nlife--appeared in their eyes more important than the affection of\nyouth for maid unwedded. When love ceased to be the expression on\nthe one side of a physical need, and on the other the binding tie\nthat kept the family together, the Greeks regarded it as a disease, a\nmadness. Plato, who treated it with seriousness, classed it among the\n#maniai#. Euripides portrayed it as a god-sent curse on Ph\u00e6dra. Viewed\nin this light, it may be urged that the love of Zeus for Io, in the\n_Prometheus_, is an example of a passion which became an unbearable\nburden and source of misery to its victim; but of what we understand\nby love there is here in reality no question. The tale of Io rather\nresembles the survival of some mystic Oriental myth of incarnation.\n\nThe organic vitality which \u00c6schylus, by the exercise of his creative\npower, communicated to the structure of his tragedies, is further\nnoticeable in his power of conducting a drama without prologue and\nwithout narration. In \u00c6schylus, the information that is necessary in\norder to place the spectators at the proper point of view is conveyed\nas part of the action. He does not, like Euripides, compose a formal\nand preliminary speech, or, like Shakespeare, introduce two or three\nsuperfluous characters in conversation. In this respect the openings of\nthe _Prometheus_, the _Agamemnon_, and the _Eumenides_ are masterpieces\nof the most consummate art. Not only are we plunged _in medias res_,\nwithout the slightest sacrifice of clearness, but the spectacle\npresented to our imagination is stirring in the highest degree. The\nfire has leaped from mountain peak to peak until at last it blazes on\nthe watchman's eyes; Heph\u00e6stus and his satellites are actually engaged\nin nailing down the Titan to his bed of pain; the Furies are slumbering\nwithin the sacred Delphian shrine, and the ghost of Clytemnestra moves\namong them, rousing each in turn from her deep trance. Euripides,\nproceeding less by immediate vision than by patient thought, prefixed\na monologue, which contained a programme of preceding events, and\nprepared the spectator for what would follow in the play. These\nnarratives are often frigid, and not unfrequently are placed, without\npropriety, in the mouth of one of the actors. We feel that a wholly\ndetached prologue would have been more artistic.\n\nThe same is true about the speeches of the Messenger. The art of\n\u00c6schylus was far too highly organized to be obliged to have recourse to\nsuch rude methods. It is true that, when he pleased, as in the _Pers\u00e6_,\nhe gave the principal part to the Messenger. The actors in that play\nare little better than spectators; and the same may be said about the\n_Seven against Thebes_. But the Messenger, though employed as here for\nspecial purposes, was no integral part of his dramatic machinery; nor\ndid he ever commit the decisive event of the drama to narration. His\nmaster-stroke as a dramatic poet--the cry of Agamemnon, following close\nupon the prophecies of Cassandra, and breaking the silence like a clap\nof doom, in that awful moment when the scene is left empty and the\nchorus tremble with the apprehension of a coming woe--would probably\nhave yielded in the hands of Euripides to the speech of a servant. It\nwas not that the later poet would not willingly have employed every\nmeans in his power for stirring the emotions of his audience; but he\nhad not the creative imagination of his predecessor; he could not grasp\nhis subject as a whole so perfectly as to dispense with artificial and\nmechanical devices. He fell back, therefore, upon narrative, in which\nhe was a supreme master.\n\nEqually remarkable from this point of view is the \u00c6schylean treatment\nof the Chorus. It is never really separated from the action of the\nplay. In the _Prometheus_, for example, the Oceanid\u00e6 actually share the\ndoom of the protagonist. In the _Supplices_ the daughters of Danaus may\nbe termed the protagonist; for upon them converges the whole interest\nof the drama. In the _Seven against Thebes_ the participation of the\nChorus in the fate of the chief actors is proved by half of them siding\nwith Ismene and the other half with Antigone at the conclusion. In the\n_Pers\u00e6_ they represent the nation which has suffered through the folly\nof Xerxes. In the _Agamemnon_ the elders of Mycen\u00e6 assume an attitude\ndirectly hostile to \u00c6gisthus and Clytemnestra. In the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ the\nwomen who sympathize with Electra further the scheme of Orestes by\nputting \u00c6gisthus off the track of danger and sending him unarmed to\nmeet his murderers. In the _Eumenides_ the Furies play a part at least\nequal in importance to that of Orestes. They, like the protagonist,\nstand before the judgment-seat of Pallas and accept the verdict of the\nAreiopagus. Thus, in each of the extant plays of \u00c6schylus, even the\nChorus, which was subsequently so far separated from the action as to\nbecome a mere commentator and spectator, is vitally important in the\nconduct of the drama. Euripides, by formalizing the several elements of\nthe tragic art, by detaching the Chorus, introducing a prologue, and\nexpanding the functions of the Messenger, sacrificed that higher kind\nof unity which we admire in the harmonious working of complex parts.\nWhat he gained was the opportunity of concentrating attention upon\nthe conflict of motives, occasions for the psychological analysis of\ncharacter, and scope for ethical reflection and rhetorical description.\n\nI have hitherto been occupied by what appear to me the essential\nfeatures of the genius of \u00c6schylus--its demiurgic faculty of\ncreativeness, and its capacity of dealing with heroic rather than\nmerely human forms. To pass to the consideration of his theology would\nat this point be natural and easy. I do not, however, wish to dwell\non what is called the prophetic aspect of his tragedy at present. It\nis enough to say that, here, as in the sphere of pure art, he was in\nthe truest sense creative. Without exactly removing the old landmarks,\nhe elevated the current conception of Zeus regarded as the supreme\ndeity, and introduced a novel life and depth of meaning into the moral\nfabric of the Greek religion. Much as he rejoiced in the delineation\nof Titanic and primeval powers, he paid but slight attention to the\nminor gods of the Pantheon; his creed was monotheism detached upon a\npantheistic background, to which the forms of polytheism gave variety\nand color. Zeus was all in all for \u00c6schylus far more than for his\npredecessors, Homer and Hesiod. The most remarkable point about the\n\u00c6schylean theology is that, in spite of its originality, it seems\nto have but little affected the substance of serious Greek thought.\nPlato, for example, talks of Prometheus in the _Protagoras_ as if no\nnew conception of his character had been revealed to him by \u00c6schylus.\nWe are not, therefore, justified in regarding the dramatic poet as in\nany strict sense a prophet, and the oracles he uttered are chiefly\nvaluable as indications of his own peculiar ways of thinking; nor ought\nwe, even so, perhaps, to demand from \u00c6schylus too much consistency. The\n_Supplices_, for instance, cannot without due reservation be used to\nillustrate the _Prometheus_; since the dramatic situation in the two\ntragedies is so different as to account for any apparent divergence of\nopinion.\n\nThere is, however, one point in the morality of \u00c6schylus concerning\nfate and freewill which calls for special comment, since we run a\ndanger here of doing real violence to his art by overstating some\none theory about his supposed philosophical intention. I allude, of\ncourse, to his conception of destiny. If we adopt the fatalistic\nexplanation of Greek tragedy propounded by Schlegel, we can hardly\navoid coarsening and demoralizing fables which owe their interest not\nto the asphyxiating force of destiny, but to the action and passion\nof human beings. If, on the other hand, we overstrain the theological\ndoctrine of Nemesis, we run a risk of trying to find sermons in works\nof art, and of exaggerating the importance of details which support our\nfavorite hypothesis. It should never be forgotten that whatever view\nwe take of the moral and religious purpose of Greek tragedy has been\ngained by subsequent analysis. It was not in any case present to the\nconsciousness of the poet as a necessary condition of his art as art.\nHis first business was to provide for the dramatic presentation of his\nsubject: his philosophy, whether ethical or theological, transpired\nin the heat and stress of production, not because he sought to give\nit deliberate expression, but because it formed an integral part of\nthe fabric of his mind. \u00c6schylus, in common with the Greeks of his\nage, firmly believed in the indissoluble connection between acts and\nconsequences, and in the continuation of these consequences through\nsuccessive generations. \"Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also\nreap,\" \"the fathers have eaten a sour grape and the children's teeth\nare set on edge,\" formed the groundwork of his view of human life. This\nsort of fatalism he colored with religious theories adopted from the\nantique theology of his race, but strongly moralized and developed in\nthe light of his own reason. The importance attributed by the Greeks\nto hereditary curses, even in the common affairs of life, is proved\nby the familiar example of the proclamation by the Spartans against\nPericles in the first year of the Peloponnesian War. Much of elder\nsuperstition, therefore, clings about his ethics, and an awful sense of\nguilt and doom attaches to acts in themselves apparently indifferent;\nnor can we fail to recognize a belief in fate as fate, #to pepr\u00f4menon#,\nsuperior to all besides. The realm of tragic terror lies precisely in\nthis border-land between inexorable reason and unreasoned fear. It\nhas nothing to do with pure science or pure religion: they speak each\nfor themselves with their own voice; but it is not the voice of the\ndramatist. On the one hand, logical fatalism offers no freedom for the\nplay of character, no turning-points of choice, no revolutions which\nmay rouse our sympathy and stir us with the sense of self-determined\nruin. On the other hand, theology, in its methodic form, supplies,\nindeed, the text of sermons, admonitions, and commandments, but not the\nsubject-matter for a work of art. Where the necessity of circumstance\nor the will of the Deity is paramount, human action sinks into\ninsignificance; the canons of inevitable sequence and of obedience\nunder pain of penalty supersede the casuistry of balanced motives,\nand the poet is swallowed up in the divine or the logician. Somewhere\nbetween the two, in the intermediate darkness, or #metaichmios skotos#,\nwhere all the ways of life are perilous, and where no clear light\nreveals the pitfalls of fate and the gins of religious duty, lies\nthe track of the tragedian. His men and women are free; yet their\naction is overruled by destiny. They err against the law of heaven\nand flourish for a season; but the law pursues them and enacts its\npenalty. While terror and pity are stirred by the pervading sense of\nhuman helplessness, scope is still left for the exercise of the moral\njudgment; nor is the poet precluded from teaching his audience by\nprecept and example. These remarks apply to the domestic curse which\nplayed so prominent a part in all Greek tragedy, and especially in\nthe dramas of \u00c6schylus. It was no mere avalanche of doom falling from\nabove and crushing the innocent and the criminal alike; nor, again,\ncan it justly be paralleled by what it most resembles, the taint of\nhereditary disease. It partook of the blind force of fate; it was\npropagated from generation to generation by laws analogous to those\nwhich govern madness; yet it contained another element, inasmuch as the\ntransgression of each successive victim was a necessary condition of\nits prolongation. Sin alone, however, was not sufficient to establish\nits mysterious power; for all men are liable to offend against the\ndivine law, and yet all families are not afflicted with a curse.\nIn order to appreciate its nature, all these factors must be taken\ninto account; their sum total, notwithstanding the exactitude of our\ncalculation, remains within the realm of mystery. The undiscovered\nresiduum, or rather the resolution of all these elements in a power\nwhich is all of them and more than all, is fate. Students who are\ncurious to appreciate the value attached by the Greeks themselves to\nthe several elements implicit in the notion of domestic At\u00e9, should\nattentively peruse the longer of the two arguments to the _Seven\nagainst Thebes_, while the play itself sets forth more energetically\nthan any other the terrible lesson of the \u00c6schylean Nemesis. The\nprotagonist Eteocles is a curse-intoxicated man, driven by the doom\nof his race and by the imprecations of his father on a dreadful shoal\nof fate. He walks open-eyed to meet his destiny--to slay his brother\nand be slain. Still, helpless as he seems, he is not innocent. His\nown rebellious and selfish nature, by rousing the fury of Oedipus,\nkindles afresh the smouldering flame of the ancestral At\u00e9. Thus the\nfate which overwhelms him is compounded of hereditary guilt, personal\ntransgression, and the courage-quelling terror of a father's curse. But\nit is more than all this: it is an irresistible compelling force. He\ncannot avoid it, since action has been thrust upon him by the strength\nof circumstance. The tragic horror of his situation arises from the\nnecessity under which he labors of going forward, though he knows that\nthe next step leads to a bottomless abyss.\n\nIn estimating the characters of \u00c6schylus, what has already been said\nabout his art in general must be taken into account. He was occupied\nwith the task of exhibiting a great action, a #drama# in the strictest\nsense of the Greek phrase; and this action was frequently so colossal\nin its relations as to preclude the niceties of merely personal\ncharacter. Persons had to become types in order to play their part\nefficiently. The underlying moral and religious idea was blended with\nthe \u00e6sthetic purpose of the poet, and penetrated with the interest\npertaining to the clash of conflicting principles: the total effect\nproduced sometimes seems to defy analysis of character in detail. The\npsychology of his chief characters is, therefore, inherent in their\naction, and is only calculable in connection with their momentary\nenvironments. We have to infer their specific quality less from what\nthey say than from their bearing and their conduct in the crises of\nthe drama. Only after profound study of the situation of each tragedy,\nafter steeping our imagination in the elementary conditions selected by\nthe poet, can we realize the fulness of their individuality. In this\nrespect \u00c6schylus resembles Homer. Like Homer, he repeats the work of\nnature, and creates men and women entire. He does not strive to lay\nbare the conscious workings of the mind piecemeal. He has none of the\nlong speeches on which Euripides relied for setting forth the flux and\nreflux of contending motives, or for making clear the attitude adopted\nby his _dramatis person\u00e6_. There is no revelation of the anatomical\nmethod in his art; nor, again, can we detect the _ars celandi artem_\nto which poets of a more reflective age are forced to have recourse.\nEverything with \u00c6schylus is organic; each part is subordinated to the\nwhole which pre-existed in his mind, and which has been evolved in\nits essential unity from his imagination. Even the weighty sentences\nand gnomic judgments upon human affairs, uttered by his actors, are\nnecessitated by the straits in which they find themselves. Severed\nfrom their context, they lose half their value; whereas the similar\nreflections in Euripides may be detached without injury, and read like\nextracts from a commonplace-book. Perhaps sufficient stress has not\nbeen laid by critics upon this quality of absolute creativeness, which\ndistinguishes the Homeric, \u00c6schylean, and Shakespearian poets from\nthose who proceed from mental analysis to artistic presentation. It is\neasy to render an account of characters that have first been thought\nout as ethical specimens and then provided with a suitable exterior.\nIt is very difficult to dissect those which started into being by an\nact of intuitive invention, and which, dissociated from the texture\nof circumstance woven round them, appear at first sight to elude our\nintellectual grasp. Yet the latter are found in the long run to be cast\nin the more vital mould. Once apprehended, they haunt the memory like\nreal persons, and we may fancy, if we choose, innumerable series of\nevents through which they would maintain their individuality intact.\nThey are, in fact, living creatures, and not puppets of the poet's\nbrain.\n\nOf the characters of \u00c6schylus, those which have been wrought with\nthe greatest care, and which leave the most profound impression on\nthe memory, are Clytemnestra and Prometheus. Considering how slight\nwere the outlines of the Homeric picture of Clytemnestra, it may be\nsaid that \u00c6schylus created her. What is still more remarkable than\nhis creation of Clytemnestra is that he should have realized her\nfar more vividly than any of the men whom he has drawn. This proves\nthat \u00c6schylus, at least among the Attic Greeks, gave a full share\nto women in the affairs of the great world of public action. As a\nwoman, she stands outside the decencies and duties of womanhood,\nsupporting herself by the sole strength of her powerful nature and\nindomitable will. The self-sufficingness of Clytemnestra is the\nmain point in her portrait. Her force of character is revealed by\nthe sustained repression of her real feelings and the concealment\nof her murderous purpose, which enable her to compass Agamemnon's\ndeath. During the critical moments when she receives her husband\nin state, and leads him to the bath within the palace, she remains\ncalm and collected. The deed that she has plotted must, if ever, be\ndone at once. A single word from the Chorus, who are aware of her\nrelations to \u00c6gisthus, would spoil all her preparations. Yet she\nshows no fear, and can command the fairest flowers of rhetoric to\ngreet the king with feigned congratulations. The same strength is\ndisplayed in her treatment of Cassandra, on whom she wastes no words,\nexpends no irritable energy, although she hates and has the mind to\nmurder her. Studied craft and cold disdain mark her bearing at the\nsupreme crisis. When the death-blow has been given to Agamemnon, she\nbreathes freely; her language reveals the exhilaration of one who\nexpands his lungs and opens wide his nostrils to snuff the elastic\nair of liberty. The blood upon her raiment is as pleasant to her as\na shower of rain on thirsty cornfields; she shouts like soldiers\nwhen the foemen turn to fly. \u00c6schylus has sustained the impression\nof her force of character by the radiant speech with which he gifts\nher. This splendor of rhetoric belongs by nature to the magnificent\nand lawless woman who rejoices in her shame. It is like the superb\ncolors of a venomous lily. The contrast between the serpent-coils of\nher sophistic speech to Agamemnon at the palace-gate and the short\nsentences in which she describes his murder--true tiger-leaps of\nutterance--is a triumph of dramatic art. As regards her motive for\nkilling the king, I see no reason to suppose that \u00c6schylus intended\nto diverge from the Homeric tradition. Clytemnestra has lived in\nadultery with \u00c6gisthus; she dares not face a public discovery of her\nfault, nor is she willing to forego her paramour. The passage in the\n_Cho\u00ebphoroe_, where she argues with Orestes before her own murder,\nproves that she has no other valid reason to set forth. Her son tells\nher she shall be slain and laid by the side of \u00c6gisthus, seeing that\nin life she preferred him to her lord. All her answer is: \"Child, in\nyour father's absence I was sorely tried.\" The same is clear from\nthe allusions in the _Agamemnon_ to the nerveless lion, who tumbles\nin the royal couch, and is a sorry housekeeper for the departed\nking. \u00c6schylus, however, with the instinct of a great poet, has not\nsuffered our minds to dwell wholly upon this adulterous motive. He\nmakes Clytemnestra put forth other pleas, and intends us to believe\nin their validity, as lending her self-confidence in the commission\nof her crime, and as suggesting reasons for our sympathy. Revenge for\nIphigeneia's sacrifice, the superstitious sense of the Erinnys of the\nhouse of Atreus, jealousy of Chryseis and Cassandra, mingle with the\nmaster impulse in her mind, and furnish her with specious arguments.\nThe solidity of Clytemnestra's character is impressed upon us with a\nforce and a reality of presentation that have never been surpassed. She\nmaintains the same _aplomb_, the same cold glittering energy of speech,\nthe same presence of mind and unswerving firmness of nerve, whether\nshe bandies words of bitter irony with the Chorus, or ceremoniously\nreceives the king, or curls the lip of scorn at Cassandra, or defies\nthe Argives after Agamemnon's death. She loves power, and despises\nshow. When the deed is done, and fair words are no longer needed, her\nhypocrisy is cast aside. At the same time she defends herself with a\nmoral impudence which is only equalled by her intellectual skill, and\nrises at last to the sublimity of arrogance when she asserts her right\nto be regarded as the incarnate demon of the house. Clytemnestra has\nbeen frequently compared to Lady Macbeth; nor is it easy to think of\nthe one without being reminded of the other. Clytemnestra, however, is\na less elastic character than Lady Macbeth: she is cast in metal of a\ntougher temper, and the springs which move her are more simple. Lady\nMacbeth has not in reality so much force and fibre: she does not design\nDuncan's death many months beforehand; she acts from overmastering\nimpulse under the temptation of opportunity, and when her husband\nand herself are sunk chin-deep in blood she cannot bear the load of\nguilt upon her conscience. Shakespeare has conceived and analyzed a\nwoman more sensitive, and therefore more liable to nervous failure,\nthan Clytemnestra. Clytemnestra never breaks down. Her sin feeds and\nnourishes her nature, instead of starving and palsying it; her soul\ngrows fat and prospers, nor does she know what conscience means. She\nis never more imposing in her pride of intellectual strength than\nwhen she receives the feigned news of Orestes' death. Just as the\nsuperior nature of Lady Macbeth is enhanced by contrast with her weaker\nhusband, so Clytemnestra appears to the greatest advantage by the side\nof \u00c6gisthus. \u00c6gisthus in the last scene of the _Agamemnon_ brags and\nblusters; Clytemnestra utters no superfluous syllable. \u00c6gisthus insults\nthe corpse of the king; Clytemnestra is satisfied with having slain\nhim. Nothing shakes her courage or weakens her determination. When\nOrestes turns his sword against her in the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_, her first\nimpulse is to call aloud: \"Reach me with all speed an axe of weight\nto tire a man, that we may know at once the issue of this combat.\"\nShe will measure weapons with her son. And when his blade is already\nat her breasts, she has the nerve to bare them and exclaim: \"My son,\nbehold where thou didst lie; these nipples gave thee milk.\" There\nis no groaning in her last life-struggle. She dies, as she lived,\nself-sustained and equal to all emergencies. This terrible personality\nendures even in the grave. When she rises in the _Eumenides_, a ghost\nfrom Hades, it is with bitter taunts and a most biting tongue that\nshe stirs up the Furies to revenge. If we are to seek a parallel for\nClytemnestra in our own dramatic literature, I should be inclined\nto look for it in the _Vittoria Corrombona_ of Webster. The modern\npoet has not developed his \"white devil of Italy\" with the care that\n\u00c6schylus bestowed on Clytemnestra. Her portrait remains a sketch rather\nthan a finished picture; and the circumstances of her tragedy are\ninfinitely less impressive than those which place the Queen of Mycen\u00e6\non so eminent a pinnacle of crime. But Vittoria is cast in the same\nmould. Like Clytemnestra, she has the fascination and the force of\nsin, self-satisfied and self-contained to face the world with brazen\narrogance, and browbeat truth before the judgment-seat of gods or men.\n\nOf all the masterpieces of Greek tragedy which have been preserved\nto us, the _Prometheus_ of \u00c6schylus presents by far the greatest\ndifficulty, and involves at the same time by far the most enticing\nproblems. Its paramount interest lies in the fact that the dramatic\naction is removed beyond and above the sphere of humanity, and that\nthe poet, who was also the chief prophet of Hellas in the very prime\nof Athenian culture, is dealing with the mystery of God's relation to\nthe world and man. In the trilogy of the _Oresteia_ he is concerned\nwith heroes; in the _Prometheus_, with gods, Titans, and demigods. The\n_dramatis person\u00e6_ are Prometheus, Heph\u00e6stus and his comrade Force,\nHermes, the herald of Zeus, Io, the victim of the love of Zeus, and\nOceanus, the ruler of the streams and seas. The Chorus is composed\nof Oceanides, the maiden daughters of the deep, cloud-bearing dews\nand mists, who gather round the Scythian crags, where Prometheus lies\nchained and exposed to fiery heat by day and freezing cold by night.\nThe only mortal who visits him is Io; and she bears within her the\nchild of Zeus. Thus everything in the tragedy is conceived upon a vast\nand visionary scale. It is no episode of real or legendary history\nwhich forms the subject-matter of the play. The powers of heaven and\nearth are in action. The destinies of Olympian Zeus and of the whole\nhuman race are at stake. In this lofty region of the imagination the\ngenius of \u00c6schylus moves freely. The scenery of his drama is in harmony\nwith its stupendous subject. Barren mountain-summits, the sea outspread\nbeneath, the sky with all its stars above, silently falling snow-flakes\nand tempestuous winds, thunder and earthquake and riven precipices are\nthe images which crowd upon the mind. In like manner the duration of\ntime is indefinitely extended. Not years, but centuries, measure the\ncontinuance of the struggle between the sovereign will of Zeus and the\nstubborn resistance of the Titan.\n\nAt the opening of the play Prometheus appears in the midst of the\ndesert which is destined for his prison-home. Heph\u00e6stus and his\nsatellites chain him down with adamantine rivets, so that he may\nneither bend the knee nor rest in slumber, but must cling, crucified\nin wakeful torment, to the unyielding rock. While they are at their\nwork, Prometheus utters not a word or groan. He is gifted with unerring\nforesight, and knows surely that his doom must be borne, and also\nthat his doom must have an end. He defies the power of Zeus in frigid\nsilence; not sullenly--because, when sympathy has loosed his lips,\nhe proves that a warm heart beats within his breast--but proudly and\nindignantly. Heph\u00e6stus and Titanic Force leave him alone in his misery\nwhen their task is finished. Then at last he speaks. It is to the\nkindred powers of elemental nature, to the Sun and Sea and nourishing\nEarth, his brethren and his mother, that he addresses his complaint:\n\"See you how I, a god, suffer at the hands of God; and for what\ncrime?--_for having given fire to mortal man_.\"\n\nThis, then, is the sin of Prometheus. He found humanity abject and\nforsaken by the gods. Zeus, who had recently seized upon the empire\nof the universe, designed to extirpate men from the world, and to\ncreate a new race after his own heart. Prometheus took pity upon them,\nsaved them from destruction, gifted them with fire, the mother of all\narts, taught them carpentry and husbandry, revealed to them the stars,\nwhereby they knew the order of the seasons and recurrences of crops,\ninstructed them in letters, showed them how to tame the horse and ox,\nand how to plough the sea with ships, then taught them medicine and\nthe cure of wounds, then divination and the sacrifice of victims to\npropitiate the gods, and lastly how to smelt the ore contained within\nthe bowels of the earth. All these good things Prometheus gave to\nmen. And here, in passing, we may notice how accurately \u00c6schylus has\nsketched the primitive conditions of mankind in its emergence from the\nstate of savagery. The picture is, indeed, poetical; but subsequent\nknowledge has only strengthened the outlines and filled them in with\ndetails, not altered or erased them.\n\nNow, however, we ask, In what true sense was Prometheus criminal? What\nright had Zeus, who is invariably represented by \u00c6schylus in all his\nother dramas as a just and wise ruler, to impose these trials on the\nbenefactor of the human race? \u00c6schylus, in this play, clearly desires\nto rouse our sympathy for Prometheus. He makes all the principal actors\nspeak of Zeus as a forceful tyrant, newly come to power, which he\nabuses for his selfish ends, subverting the old order of the world,\noppressing the old powers, who are his kindred, yet substituting\nnothing but his own ill-regulated and capricious will. On the other\nhand, \u00c6schylus has indicated that Prometheus is in the wrong; that he\nregards his disobedience to Zeus as the cause of merited punishment.\nThe Chorus points this moral by asserting, in spite of their tender\nfeeling for the Titan, that they only are sane and righteous who bow\nto necessity and accept the law of their superior. Oceanus, in like\nmanner, advises his kinsman to submit; and reminds him that, though the\nrule of Zeus is a novelty, it is not intolerable, and that acquiescence\nis always prudent.\n\nThe chief difficulty of the play consists, therefore, in understanding\nthe error of the protagonist, and in reconciling the character of\nZeus, as here depicted, with the theology elsewhere expressed by\n\u00c6schylus. The most probable solution of the problem is suggested by\nthe ideal to which Greek tragedy aspired. It was the object of the\nAthenian dramatists not to represent a simple study of character, or\nto set forth a merely stirring action, but to depict a hero worthy\nof all respect and admirable, exposed to suffering or ruin by some\nfault of temperament. We are probably meant to look upon Prometheus\nas having erred, though nobly, through self-will, because he would\nnot obey the ruler of the world for the time being, nor abide the\nworking-out of the law of fate in patience, but tried to take that\nlaw into his own hands, and to anticipate the evolution of events.\nAt the same time the play seems to convict supreme Zeus himself of a\ntyrannical exercise of a forcefully acquired power: he also, through a\nlike self-will, appears to be kicking against the pricks of immutable\ndestiny; and it is prophesied that in his turn he will be superseded\nby a more righteous ruler. The secret of the revolution in Olympus,\nwhereby Zeus will be deposed, is possessed by Prometheus, and withheld\nby him from his tormentor. Thus the knowledge of the future enables\nthe hero of the drama to endure, while Zeus upon his throne suffers\nthrough the consciousness that fate cannot be resisted. Therefore the\n_Prometheus_, as we possess it, presents the spectacle of two stubborn\nwills in conflict. The action is suspended. The conclusion cannot be\nforeseen. Owing to its very excellence as a work of art, it contains\nno indication of the ultimate solution; we are only told by Prometheus\nthat, after he has been liberated, and not till then, he may reveal\nthe means by which the ruin of Zeus shall be averted. We are left to\nconjecture that \u00c6schylus intended to harmonize the wills of the Titan\nand his oppressor through the final submission of both alike to the\nlaws of destiny, which are supreme. Prometheus, when once his pride\nhas given way, will reveal the secret which he holds, and Zeus, made\nacquiescent by the lapse of time, will accept it.\n\nThe chief obstacle to the satisfactory interpretation of the\n_Prometheus_ springs, as I have hinted, from the difficulty of\nunderstanding how Prometheus was guilty and Zeus justified. The\ntransgression of the hero, if it deserves the name at all, was\neminently noble. His punishment appears extravagant in its severity.\nAt first sight we can hardly avoid the conclusion that the final\nalliance between the two conflicting actors in this drama was a kind\nof political compromise, unworthy of the protagonist. To this judgment\nShelley was led by his hatred of despotism, and by his inability to\nimagine a dignified termination to the dispute that enlisted his\nsympathies so strongly on the side of the disinterested hero. \"I was\naverse,\" he says in the Preface to _Prometheus Unbound_, \"from a\ncatastrophe so feeble as that of reconciling the Champion with the\nOppressor of mankind. The moral interest of the fable, which is so\npowerfully sustained by the sufferings and endurance of Prometheus,\nwould be annihilated if we could conceive of him as unsaying his high\nlanguage and quailing before his successful and perfidious adversary.\"\nThose, however, who have learned to respect the lofty theosophy of\n\u00c6schylus, no less than to admire his imperial artistic faculty, will\nbe slow to accept the conclusion of Shelley, or to believe that the\ncatastrophe prepared by the Greek poet was feeble. They will rather\nmistrust their powers of judgment, or suspect that the key to the\nriddle has been lost. The truth is, that we have no means of settling\nwhat the catastrophe really was; and at this point it is necessary to\ngive some account of the relation of this drama to the entire scheme of\n\u00c6schylus.\n\nThe _Prometheus Bound_ (#desm\u00f4t\u00eas#) was probably the second of a\ntrilogy, or series of three tragedies, of which the first was called\n_Prometheus the Fire-bearer_ (#pyrphoros#), and the third _Prometheus\nUnbound_ (#lyomenos#). _Prometheus the Fire-bearer_ and _Prometheus\nUnbound_ have disappeared; it seems that they were not even known to\nthe Greek scholiast, for he does not mention them in his argument to\nthe _Prometheus Bound_. At the same time the argument prefixed to the\n_Pers\u00e6_ informs us that that play was the second in a series, of which\nthe _Phineus_ was first, the _Glaucus Potnieus_ third, and a so-called\n_Prometheus_ fourth. It has been conjectured that the _Prometheus_\nwhich formed the fourth or satyric drama in this tetralogy was\ndistinguished by the title _Fire-kindler_ (#pyrkaeus#,), a name which\nis mentioned in an obscure passage of Pollux; and that consequently\nfour plays altogether by \u00c6schylus bore the title of _Prometheus_. It\ncannot, however, be proved beyond doubt that the _Fire-kindler_ existed\nindependent of the _Fire-bearer_; or, if so, that the former was the\nlast play in the tetralogy of the _Pers\u00e6_, the latter the first in\nthe trilogy of the _Prometheus Bound_. Both arguments to the only\n_Prometheus_ we possess entire are unfortunately silent about the plays\nwhich accompanied it; and it is only from allusions to a lost tragedy\ncalled _Prometheus Unbound_ that we are at all justified in assuming\nthe disappearance of the first drama of the series, and in calling it\nthe _Fire-bearer_. It should be added that the learned editor of the\nGreek Scenic Poets is inclined to identify the _Fire-bearer_ and the\n_Fire-kindler_, and to regard this play as the satyric drama attached\nto the tetralogy of the _Pers\u00e6_. By so doing he leaves the _Prometheus\nBound_ and _Unbound_ without a proper dramatic introduction.\n\nIn spite of the uncertainty which surrounds the criticism of this play,\nno students familiar with the style of \u00c6schylus will fail to recognize\nin the _Prometheus Unbound_ the second drama of a trilogy. It has the\nstationary character which belongs to the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_, the _Pers\u00e6_,\nand the _Supplices_. The dramatic action is not helped forward in\nthese second pieces; they develop the situation to which affairs have\nbeen brought by the events of a previous drama, and which in its turn\nmust lead to the conclusive action of the third piece. It was only in\nthis way that a series of three dramas on the same subject could be\nconnected into true artistic unity. The catastrophe of the first play\nproduced a combination of events which required such expansion in a\nsecond that a new action, involving a final catastrophe, should be\nunfolded in the third, and the whole series should in the end be seen\nto have coherence. Now the _Prometheus Unbound_ is unintelligible,\nexcept as the result of a preceding action, while its conclusion leaves\nthe fate of the hero still undetermined: the events which brought the\nhero to his dreadful doom, and the events which will deliver him, are\nalluded to as things of the past and of the future; in the present\nthere is no drama, no doing, but only a development of the intermediate\nand transitional situation. We have, therefore, the right to assume the\nantecedence of a play which must, according to the data given in our\nextant tragedy, have turned upon the hero's theft of fire.[125]\n\nWe may now attempt to reconstruct the whole trilogy, and see if,\nhaving done so, any new conditions are supplied for the solution\nof the difficulty as originally stated. In the _Fire-bearer_, for\nthe subject-matter of which we have to rely on the allusions of the\n_Bound_, Zeus has recently acquired the empire of the universe by\nimprisoning his father, Kronos, and by defeating the giants who rose\nup in arms against him. Prometheus, knowing, through the inspiration\nof his mother, Earth, or Themis, that Zeus will prevail, has taken\nhis side, and has materially helped him in the conflict. But the\nsympathies of Prometheus are less with Zeus than with the race of men,\nwho, at that primitive period of the world's history, existed in the\nlowest state of wretchedness. Zeus, intent on getting his new kingdom\ninto order, entertains the notion of destroying mankind, and planting\na better stock of mortal beings on the earth. Prometheus opposes\nthis design, and enables men to raise themselves above their savage\ncondition into comparative power and comfort. It is just at this point\nthat the lost drama would probably have revealed the true nature of\nhis offence, or #hamartia#. In the Hesiodic legend he is punished for\nhaving taught men to deceive the powers of heaven; and though it is\nclear that \u00c6schylus did not closely follow that version of the myth,\nwe may conjecture that he represented the benefactor of humanity as\na rebel against the ruler of Olympus. Against the express command of\nZeus, Prometheus gave men fire; and though this act seems innocent\nenough, we must remember that, according to Genesis, Adam lost Eden by\nmerely plucking an apple. Satisfied with his own sense of justice, and\nhardened in his pride by the foreknowledge of the future, Prometheus\nresisted a power that he regarded as tyrannical, and had to be treated\nby Zeus with the same severity as Atlas or Typhoeus.\n\nIn the _Prometheus Bound_ we see the beginning of his punishment. The\nTitan, in whose person, as it were, the whole race of mortals suffer,\nis crucified on a barren cliff of Scythia. Meanwhile he makes two\nprophecies--first, that a descendant of Io is destined to deliver him;\nand, secondly, that Zeus will marry and beget a son who shall sway\nthe universe in his place. At the same time he declares that he knows\nhow Zeus may avoid this danger. Zeus, anxious to possess this secret,\nsends down Hermes, and endeavors to wrest it from his prisoner with\nthreats; but Prometheus abides, scornful and unyielding; his pain may\nbe increased, yet it cannot last forever; he is immortal, and Zeus will\nin the end be humiliated. To requite his contumacy, Zeus rends the\nmountains, hell is opened, and Prometheus descends to the lowest pit of\nTartarus.\n\nIt is clear that, whatever may have been the fault of Prometheus\nin the _Fire-bearer_, the poet has done all in his power to excite\nour sympathy for him in the second drama of the trilogy. He draws\nthe character of Oceanus as a trimmer and time-server, who inspires\ncontempt. He introduces Io suffering as a wretched victim of the\nselfish love of her almighty master. He makes the Oceanides willing in\nthe end to share the doom of the Titan; while all the human sympathies\nof the audience are powerfully affected by the spectacle of a martyrdom\nincurred for their sake. This play is, therefore, the triumph of the\nprotagonist; his offence is hidden; his heroic resistance is idealized;\nwe are made to feel sure that, when at last he is reconciled with Zeus,\nit will be through no unworthy weakness on his part.\n\nIn the third drama of the trilogy, parts of which, translated into\nLatin by Cicero, have been preserved to us, Prometheus has been raised\nfrom Tartarus, and is again crucified on Caucasus. A vulture sent by\nZeus daily gnaws his liver, which, daily growing, supplies continually\nfresh food for the tormentor. The tension of the situation is still\nprotracted. Prometheus has not given way. Zeus has not relented.\nMeanwhile the seasons have revolved through thirteen generations of the\nrace of men, and the deliverer appears. It is Herakles who cuts the\nGordian knot. He destroys the vulture, and persuades his father Zeus to\nsuffer Cheiron, the Centaur, whom he had smitten with a poisoned arrow,\nand who is weary of continued life, to take the place of the Titan in\nHades. Then Prometheus is liberated. He declares that Zeus, if he would\navoid the coming doom, must refrain from marriage with Thetis. He binds\nthe willow of repentance round his forehead, and places the iron ring\nof necessity upon his finger. His will is made at last concordant with\nthat of his enemy. Thetis is given in wedlock to the mortal Peleus, and\nAchilles is born.[126]\n\nFrom this last drama of the trilogy it would appear that the honors\nof the whole series were reserved for Herakles. Herakles is the\noffspring of Zeus by a mortal woman. He occupies, therefore, a middle\nplace between the two contending parties, and is able to effect their\nreconciliation. We may fairly conclude that herein lay the solution\ndesigned by \u00c6schylus. In order to mediate between Zeus and Prometheus,\na third agency was imperatively demanded. The heroic demi-god, who is\nthe son of the Olympian, and at the same time a scion of oppressed\nhumanity, prompted by no decree of his father, but following the\ninstincts of his generous humanity, will not allow the torments of\nPrometheus to continue. By killing the vulture, he resolves the justice\nof Zeus in an act of mercy; at the same time, he touches the heart\nof the Titan, and draws his secret from him, working a revolution in\nthe stubborn nature of Prometheus similar to that which Neoptolemus\neffected in Philoctetes by his humane uprightness. It is thoroughly\nin accordance with the spirit of Greek tragedy that the scales should\nthus have fallen from the eyes of Prometheus. He saw at last that Zeus,\nthough severe, was really justified; and, as a makepeace-offering,\nhe rendered up the secret which brought the ruler into harmony with\nthe immutable laws of fate. According to this solution of the plot,\nthe final concession of Prometheus would have been as noble as his\nintermediate resistance; the #peripeteia#, or revolution, which was\nimperatively required before the drama could have been conducted to\nan issue, would have taken place within the protagonist's soul, while\nHerakles, by introducing a new element into the action, furnished the\nefficient cause of its conclusion. It may be argued on the other hand\nthat Prometheus foreknew the advent of Herakles, and prophesied of him\nto Io in the second drama of the trilogy. To this I should answer that\nhe could not then have calculated on the change which would be wrought\nin his own character by the deliverer.\n\nHow \u00c6schylus handled the subject-matter of the _Prometheus Unbound_\nwe cannot say. It seems, however, certain that, unless he falsified\nhis otherwise consistent conception of Zeus, as the just and wise,\nthough stern, lord of the universe, and unless he satisfied himself\nwith a catastrophe which Shelley would have been justified in calling\n\"feeble,\" he must, through Herakles, have introduced a factor capable\nof solving the problem, by revealing to Prometheus the nature of his\noriginal #hamartia#, and thus rendering it dignified for him to bow to\nZeus.\n\nIf this reading of the _Prometheus_ be accepted, it will be seen\nthat the whole trilogy involved the deepest interests, the mightiest\ncollision of wills, the most pathetic situations, and the most sublime\nof reconciliations. Zeus, in the second drama of the series, is\npurposely exposed to misrepresentation in order that his true character\nin the climax, as\n\n    #ton phronein brotous hod\u00f4santa, ton path\u00ea mathos\n            thenta kyri\u00f4s echein#,[127]\n\nmay be established. The divine justice personified in Zeus is displayed\nirreconcilably opposed to the natural will personified in Prometheus,\nuntil the hero who partakes of both, the active and unselfish Herakles,\natones them. We are even justified in conjecturing that, as Prometheus\noccupied the foreground of the second drama, so Zeus must have been\nparamount in the first, and that the two antithetical propositions\nhaving thus been stated, the chief part of the third play was assigned\nto Herakles. What strengthens the interpretation now advanced is the\npeculiar nature of the punishment of Prometheus. The liver, according\nto antique psychology, was the seat of the passions; consequently\nPrometheus suffered through the organ of his sin.\n\nThat \u00c6schylus intended to describe the protagonist of his trilogy as a\ntransgressor, though offending in a noble cause, while Zeus was acting\nin accordance with real justice, however hard to comprehend, is further\nindicated by the series of events which are supposed to have taken\nplace between the termination of the _Fire-bearer_ and the climax of\nthe _Unbound_. All this while Prometheus in his obstinacy is suffering\non Caucasus and in the depth of Tartarus; but the way of salvation is\nmeantime being wrought out on earth. By the commerce of the Olympian\ndeities with the daughters of men the heroic race is generated; and not\nonly is the deliverer and reconciler, Herakles, sent forth to purge the\nworld of monstrous wrong, but the better age of equity and justice,\nforeseen by the Titan and ordained by the Fates, is being prepared. The\nmarriage of Thetis to Peleus is the proper inauguration of the heroic\nage; it not only confirms Zeus in his sovereignty, but it also provides\nfor humanity the greatest actor in the drama of the Trojan war--the\nfirst historical event of Hellas.\n\nIf the character ascribed to Zeus in the _Prometheus Bound_ still seems\nto offer difficulties; if, in other words, we are not satisfied with\nassuming that his conduct must have been justified by the evolution\nof events in the _Prometheus Unbound_, the following considerations\nmay be adduced by way of further explanation. In the first place, at\nthe supposed time of the _Prometheus Bound_, Zeus was but just seated\non his throne, and had to deal with unruly and insurgent powers. The\npunishment of Prometheus was an episode in the Titanomachy. It was the\nbusiness, therefore, of \u00c6schylus to exhibit the firmness and force\nof government of the new ruler, not to draw the picture of a kind\npaternal monarch. In the second place, the speakers who describe Zeus\nas despotic belonged by kinship to the old order of the Titans, or were\nclosely related through friendship to Prometheus. Dramatic propriety\nrequired that they should calumniate the new king, or at least\nmisunderstand his motives. In the third place, Io, whose fate appeared\nso hard, became the mother of a mighty nation, and received tenfold\nfor all her sufferings at the hand of Zeus.[128] Here, therefore, his\ninscrutable ways were in the end proved righteous; nor is it probable\nthat if \u00c6schylus justified Zeus in his dealings with the unoffending\nIo, he would leave his treatment of Prometheus unexplained. In the\nfourth place, the theology of the Greeks was not absolute, like that\nto which we are accustomed through Christianity. The power ascribed\nto their deities was political and economical. Fate and necessity\ndetermined the action of even Zeus, who was himself an outgrowth from\nan earlier and ruder order. They also imagined a gradual development in\nthe moral order of the universe. The intellectual powers of Olympus had\nsuperseded the old nature-forces of the Titanic cosmogony. There was,\ntherefore, nothing ridiculous to the Greek mind in the notion that Zeus\nmight be conceived as growing in wisdom and in righteousness. In the\nfifth place, we must remember that the Athenian audience, familiar with\nthe Hesiodic legend of Prometheus, were better prepared than we are,\nafter listening to the invectives against Zeus in the second drama of\nthe trilogy, to accept his triumphant justification in the third.\n\nNot only is the trilogy of \u00c6schylus--if, indeed, he composed a\nPromethean trilogy at all--now irrecoverable except by hazardous\nconjecture, but, what is more unfortunate, the whole mythus on which\nit was based has descended to us in hopelessly mutilated fragments.\nWe can clearly perceive that it enshrined the deepest speculations of\nthe Greeks concerning the origin of humanity, the relation of deified\nintelligence to material nature and to abstract necessity, the kinship\nbetween the human soul and the divine spirit, and the consciousness\nof sin, which implies a division between the will and the reason.\nFurthermore, there are hints implied in it of purification through\npunishment, of ultimate reconciliation, and of vicarious suffering.\nBut the fabric of the legend is so ruined that to reconstruct these\nelements of a theological morality is now impossible. Moreover, the\nvery conditions under which the mythus flourished tended to divert\nthe minds of the Greeks themselves away from the underlying meaning\nto the romantic presentation. The story could not fail to usurp upon\nthe doctrine. Like the Glaucus of Greek mythology, whom Plato used as\na parable in the _Republic_, the idea which takes shape in a legend\nduring the first ages of human speculation gathers an accretion of the\nsea-weeds and the shells of fancy round it, lying at the bottom of the\nocean of the human mind through centuries, so that, when it emerges\ninto the light of critical inquiry, the original lineaments of the\nconception are deformed and overgrown, and to strip it bare and see it\nclearly is no easy matter. Far more difficult is the task when only the\nmaimed fragments, the _disjecta membra_, of the myth remain to us.\n\nHowever freely \u00c6schylus may have dealt with the tale of Prometheus,\nhowever he may have employed it as a vehicle for rational theology,\nhe cannot have wholly eliminated those qualities which belonged to\nit as a Saga rather than a chapter of religious tradition. Indeed,\nby dramatizing, he was probably impelled to accentuate the legendary\noutline at the expense of philosophical coherence. This consideration\nmay explain some of the apparent incongruities in his fable, to which\nattention has not been yet directed in this essay. One of these\nconcerns the position of the human race between Zeus, their apparent\noppressor, and Prometheus, their avowed champion. It was for the sake\nof mankind that Prometheus disobeyed Zeus; it was through severity\ntowards mankind that Zeus placed himself at variance with justice. Yet\nwe find Zeus seeking a mortal bride among the daughters of the men\nhe had sought to destroy; nor is there any reason why, when he could\ncrucify their champion, he should not have annihilated the whole race\noutright. Perhaps, however, we ought to conjecture that, at this point,\nthe episode of Deucalion and his restoration of mankind after the\ndeluge was understood to have intervened.\n\nOther discrepancies may be stated briefly. In the elder version of\nthe fable presented by Hesiod, Prometheus is almost identified with\nhumanity, while some later fragments of the legend make him the father\nof Deucalion. In \u00c6schylus he is an immortal god, whose sympathy with\nmen proceeds from generosity and pity. Hesiod describes him as the\nson of the Titan Iapetos by Asia. \u00c6schylus places him in the first\nrank of Titanic agencies, by making him the son of Earth or Themis;\nhe is married to Hesione, daughter of Oceanus. Hesiod names his\nbrother Epimetheus; and herein we trace the remnants of an antique\npsychological analysis, whereof \u00c6schylus has made no use. It is clear,\ntherefore, that the Attic poet dealt freely with the mythus, selecting\nfor artistic purposes only such points in the Hellenic fable as would\nfit the framework of his drama.\n\nThe only sure ground, amid so much that is both shifting and uncertain,\nis that the race of men had sinned against God, and that Prometheus\nwas a responsible co-agent in their crime. This in itself is a strong\nargument in favor of the view which has been urged throughout this\nessay. This view may be resumed in the following positions. First,\nit is probable that the _Prometheus Bound_ is only the second drama\nof a trilogy. Secondly, the vilification of Zeus as a despot must be\nunderstood in a dramatic sense; it was appropriate to the situation of\nthe actors, and intended to enhance the pathos of the protagonist's\nsuffering. Thirdly, if we possessed the trilogy entire, we should see\nthat Prometheus had been really and gravely in the wrong, and that\nhis obstinacy was in the highest sense tragic according to the Greek\nconception, inasmuch as it displayed the aberration of a sublime\ncharacter. Fourthly, the occasion of a worthy reconciliation between\nZeus and Prometheus, wherein the former should forego his anger and\nthe latter bend the proud neck of his will, was furnished by Herakles,\nwho held an intermediate position between God and man, and who was\nrecognized as the redresser of wrongs and savior by the Greeks at large.\n\nThe trilogy of the _Oresteia_ is at the same time the masterpiece\nof \u00c6schylus as a dramatic poet, and also the surest source that we\npossess for forming a theory of his theological opinions. I do not\npropose to consider it from the second of these points of view, but\nrather to concentrate attention upon its greatness as a connected\npoem in three stupendous parts--as \"the majestic image of a high and\nstately tragedy shutting up and intermingling her solemn scenes and\nacts with a sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies.\"\nIn the _Oresteia_ \u00c6schylus has plucked the last fruit upon the\nUpas-tree of crime which flourished in the palace of Mycen\u00e6. The\nmurder of Agamemnon, after his return in pomp and power from Troy,\nforms the subject of the first play. By selecting this point for the\noverture to the series, the poet was able to allude in choric songs to\nthe ancestral curse of the house, and also to the special crimes of\nAgamemnon, in his sacrifice of Iphigeneia, in the protracted sufferings\nof the Argives before Troy, and in his fatal pride. The vaticinations\nof Cassandra opened a terrific vista of the horrors accumulated\nupon the family of Thyestes. Thus the past was connected with the\npresent, and the intolerable account of guilt which Orestes, the chief\nactor, was destined in the end, by the help of Heaven, to discharge,\nwas vividly presented to the minds of the audience. Agamemnon is\nmurdered, and the tragedy closes with Clytemnestra's p\u00e6an of triumph\nand defiance. She glories in her act, pretending that she has duly\nrevenged the death of Iphigeneia, and suppressing her own adultery with\n\u00c6gisthus--a criminal motive more than enough to vitiate its character\nof retributive justice.\n\nThe Chorus, who are hostile to her and her paramour, call upon her, if\nshe really slew her husband for Iphigeneia's sake, to leave the palace\nand seek purification. This was her duty according to Greek etiquette.\nBut she refuses; and no Furies haunt her for her crime, seeing that the\nFuries take account of none but kindred blood, and Clytemnestra killed\na man who was no relative by birth, but only by marriage. Such is the\nstrange doctrine which the Eumenides themselves, in the third play of\nthe series, propound before the judgment-seat of Pallas. In a deeper\nsense it was artistically fitting that Clytemnestra should remain\nunvisited by the dread goddesses. They were the deities of remorse,\nand she had steeled her soul against the stings of conscience. Neither\nfrom the blood of a slain husband could they rise; nor was there in\nher own heart harborage for their grim choir. But though Clytemnestra\nescaped the spiritual visitings of the Erinnyes, she knew what fear\nwas. Orestes, as the Chorus told her, was still living.\n\nThe _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ continues the tale of blood and vengeance. Orestes\nreturns to Mycen\u00e6. He recognizes his sister Electra by their father's\ntomb, deludes Clytemnestra with a false tale of his own death, and then\nsucceeds in killing her together with \u00c6gisthus on the spot where they\nhad murdered Agamemnon. Once more the palace is thrown open; instead of\nAgamemnon and Cassandra, Clytemnestra and \u00c6gisthus lie prostrate before\nthe desecrated altars, and Orestes exhibits to the Argives the robe in\nwhich his father had been caught and tangled ere the axe descended on\nhis head. Then, when the song of joy is rising from Electra and the\nChorus, while they are crying that the ancient Fury of the house has\nbeen appeased, at that very moment the eyes of Orestes dilate with\nhorror, his hair bristles, and he trembles with madness. He sees what\nnone around him may discern. The Erinnyes of his mother are upon him,\nand he flies. Like all the middle plays of a trilogy, the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_\nis somewhat stationary in its action. But this closing scene is\ntremendous. It powerfully affected the imagination of the Greeks, and\ncontinued, through the period of Gr\u00e6co-Roman art, to form a favorite\nsubject for sepulchral bass-reliefs. Some of these have been preserved\nto us, the finest being one in the Capitoline Museum.\n\nBy the termination of the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ we are prepared for yet\nanother tragedy, the last of the series. The _Eumenides_ opens with\na scene which represents the Temple of Phoebus at Delphi. Orestes\nhas taken refuge with the god who bade him slay his mother, and who\nmust now purify him. He lies breathless at the altar-steps with the\nbranch of suppliant woollen-woven olive in his hand. Not far away are\nstretched the Furies, hideous, and snorting in their slumber. Phoebus,\nwhile they yet sleep, bids his client rise and speed to Athens, to\nawait the verdict of Pallas in his case. So much we learn, partly\nfrom the speech of the Pythia, and partly from the lips of the god\nhimself. Then, when Orestes has started on his way, the phantom of\nClytemnestra appears and bids the sleeping Furies rise. One by one\nthey start, and groan like hounds disturbed in the midst of dreamings\nof the chase. When they see their prey has escaped, they break into\nfull cry--a brazen-throated chorus, accompanied by brazen-footed\ntramplings. Phoebus, however, drives them forth with scorn from his\nsun-bright shrine. Why linger they in those hyp\u00e6thral temple-chambers,\nresonant with song and gladdened by the feet of youths and maidens\nbearing bays? Their haunts should rather be the charnel-house, the\nshambles, the gallows, the torture-chamber of barbarians. The scene\nis now changed to Athens, where Pallas presides over the court of\nthe Areiopagus assembled to decide between the Furies who prosecute\nOrestes and Phoebus who defends his suppliant. There is no doubt\nabout the deed: Clytemnestra was slain by her own son. The question\nto settle is, whether circumstance could justify so unnatural an act.\nThe Furies represent the blind instinct of repulsion for the shedding\nof maternal blood, which no _prima facie_ argument can excuse, and\nwhich cannot be covered. Phoebus is the holy and pure power, who will\nnot suffer moral abominations, like the unpunished insolence of the\nmurderess Clytemnestra, to abide. Pallas stands for reason, capable\nof weighing motives, of disengaging a necessary act of retributive\njustice from brute murder. In the breasts of the human judges, these\nthree faculties--the instinct which condemns matricide, the instinct\nwhich sanctions under any circumstance the punishment of crime, and\nthe reason which holds the balance of impulses--are active. After much\nangry pleading by the advocates on both sides, the votes are taken.\nHalf decide against Orestes; half acquit him. Pallas, by her casting\nvote, determines the verdict in his favor. The Eumenides, disappointed\nof their prey, threaten vengeance against Athens; but Pallas appeases\nthem, and assigns them a place of honor in her city forever.\n\nIt is clear that the three plays of this trilogy are closely bound\ntogether, and that their connection is that of thesis, antithesis, and\nsynthesis. The _Agamemnon_ sets forth the crime of Clytemnestra; the\n_Cho\u00ebphoroe_ exhibits the exceptional conduct of Orestes with regard to\nthat crime; the _Eumenides_ contains his exculpation. The third play\noffers a reconciliation of the agencies at warfare in the first and\nsecond; the curse of the house of Atreus is worked out and set at rest\nby the hero whose awful duty it was to revenge a father's murder on a\nmother. His justification lay in his submission to the divine will. Had\nhe taken the matricidal office on himself in haste or anger, he must\nhave added another link to the chain of crime that hitherto had bound\nhis family through generations. What he did, however, was done with a\nclear conscience; and, though he suffered the maddening anguish of so\nterrible an act, he found rest and peace for his soul at last. Thus\na new power, unrealized in the _Agamemnon_ and the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_, was\nneeded for the solution presented in the _Eumenides_.\n\nPassing from the internal structure of these dramas to their form, we\nmay notice how \u00c6schylus provided theatrical variety consistent with\nthe varying subject. It was requisite that the action of the two first\nshould take place at Mycen\u00e6; so the scene was not altered, but the\nChorus was changed, in order that the pathos of Electra's situation\nmight be made more clear in the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_. The _Eumenides_ admitted\nnot only of a new Chorus, but also of a total change of scene; it may\nbe added that this third drama violates the unities alike of place and\ntime.\n\nOf the three plays of the trilogy, the _Agamemnon_ is unquestionably\nthe noblest. It is the masterpiece of \u00c6schylus, and to one who has\nconquered its difficulties and imbibed its spirit it offers a spectacle\nof tragic grandeur not to be surpassed, hardly to be equalled, by\nanything which even Shakespeare produced. What some modern critics\nmight regard as defects--the lengthy choric passages, abstract in their\nthought, though splendid in their imagery--the concentration of the\npoet's powers on one terrific climax, for every word that Agamemnon,\nClytemnestra, and Cassandra utter leads up to the death-cry of the\nking--contribute to the excellence of a drama of this style. If we\nlack the variety and subtlety that charm us in a work like _Hamlet_;\nif, after reading the play over and over again, and testing it in\nmany crucibles of critical analysis, we do not, as in the case of\nShakespeare's tragedies, discover new and delicate beauties in the\nminor parts, but learn each time, and by each process, to admire the\nvigor of the poet's main conception, the godlike energy with which\nhe has developed it; that may be taken as the strongest proof of its\nperfection as a monument of classic art.\n\nThere is, in the _Agamemnon_, an oppressive sense of multitudinous\ncrimes, of sins gathering and swelling to produce a tempest. The air\nwe breathe is loaded with them. No escape is possible. The marshalled\nthunder-clouds roll ever onward, nearer and more near, and far more\nswiftly than the foot can flee. At last the accumulated storm bursts\nin the murder of Agamemnon, the majestic and unconscious victim felled\nlike a steer at the stall; in the murder of Cassandra, who foresees her\nfate, and goes to meet it with the shrinking of some dumb creature, and\nwith the helplessness of one who knows that doom may not be shunned; in\nthe lightning-flash of Clytemnestra's arrogance, who hitherto has been\na glittering hypocrite, but now proclaims herself a fiend incarnate. As\nthe Chorus cries, the rain of blood, that hitherto has fallen drop by\ndrop, descends in torrents on the house of Atreus: but the end is not\nyet. The whole tragedy becomes yet more sinister when we regard it as\nthe prelude to ensuing tragedies, as the overture to fresh symphonies\nand similar catastrophes. Wave after wave of passion gathers and breaks\nin these stupendous scenes; the ninth wave mightier than all, with a\ncrest whereof the spray is blood, falls foaming; over the outspread\nsurf of gore and ruin the curtain drops, to rise upon the self-same\ntheatre of new woes.\n\nThe imagery of the _Agamemnon_ most powerfully contributes to heighten\nthe tragic impression of the plot. At one time the ancestral fury of\nthe doomed house is likened to a demon leaping on it from above, by\na metaphor which vividly suggests Blake's design of Satan pouring\nflame upon the dwelling of Job's sons. At another it is compared to a\ncormorant brooding upon its battlements; and yet again, by a stroke of\nirony peculiarly impressive to the Greeks, it is likened to a band of\nrevellers. The repetition of the same class of metaphors, the frequent\nreferences to the net in which Agamemnon was to be caught, to the axe\nwith which he and Cassandra were to be slaughtered, to the smoke and\nscent of blood which was to bathe the altar of the household Zeus with\nsacrifice unhallowed, assail the imagination with portentous monotony.\n\nOf all the terrors in this tragedy none is so awful in itself, or so\nartistically heightened, as Cassandra's prophecy. Accompanying her\nlord and master, she has approached the palace of Mycen\u00e6. Clytemnestra\nhas greeted the king with a set oration, admirable for its rhetoric,\ncovering by dark innuendoes her foul thought. Spreading upon the\nthreshold purple raiment and mantles suited to the service of the\ngods--such embroidered garments, we may fancy, as Athenian ladies\nwrought for Pallas--she exclaims: \"Descend from this thy chariot; nor\nset on earth, dread monarch, thy foot that trampled upon Troy.\" It is\nas though a medi\u00e6val wife should bid her lord, returning from the East,\nto tread on altar-cloths and sacerdotal vestments. Agamemnon shrinks\nfrom the sacrilege, but she overrules his scruples, and he complies.\nAll this while Cassandra is seated, patient, in her car. Like a statue\nsculptured in monumental alabaster, with hands upon her knees, and head\nbowed on her breast, she waits unmoved. Then the conqueror is led in to\nhis doom--a doom which the Chorus, in one of their wild eddying hymns\nof woe, seem almost to anticipate. Still Cassandra tarries; and now\nClytemnestra comes again, with taunts and dreadful irony: \"Happy are\nyou, princess though you be, to have such rich and prosperous masters;\nenter the palace; the sacrifice is ready at the altar, and to this, as\na slave of the house, you, too, are bidden.\" But Cassandra will not\nmove. In her soul, where, though a slave, she still retains the gift of\noracular vision, she foresees her doom. She knows what the riches of\nthe house of Atreus mean, what the prosperity of Agamemnon really is,\nwhat the sacrifice to which she, too, is bidden will be. Clytemnestra\nleaves her, half in scorn and half in anger. Then, at length,\nCassandra lifts her head, and stirs herself, and groans. The first\nword she utters is \"Apollo! oh! Apollo!\" This rouses the Chorus, and\nthey ask: \"What cry of wailing hast thou shrieked about Apollo? He is\nnot a god to be greeted with dirges.\" Phoebus was, in truth, the deity\nof brightness and music, not of the funeral groan or death lament.\nStill Cassandra, with the same ill-omened utterance, reverberates the\nname: \"Apollo! ah, Apollo! lo, a second time hast thou undone me!\" To\nPhoebus she had promised her virginity; the promise was not kept, and\nhe requited her with prophecy that none might heed or understand. No\ntragic portion is more piteous than this of her who was the clear-eyed\nseer of coming woes, the unwilling mouthpiece of dread oracles, doomed\nalike to knowledge worse than ignorance, and to the scorn that falls\non idle babblers. Now, once again, descending on her with the might of\nprophecy, the god compels her to predict her own swift-coming fate.\nLittle by little, at the intercession of the Chorus, Cassandra becomes\nmore articulate. She calls the house before her \"the shambles of a man,\na pavement blood-bedabbled.\" There stands the stately palace-front; its\nmarble steps are covered with tapestry, the statues of its protective\ngods are crowned with flowers; while the lonely prophetess is\nshuddering at so fair a frontispiece to a tragedy within so frightful,\nnow to be accomplished on her master and herself. Meantime the Chorus\nalso wait, involved in their own anxiety; the mysterious anguish of\nthe weird woman, whom they know to have the hand of God laid heavily\nupon her, makes them tremble. \"What mean you,\" they exclaim, \"by\nscenting like a dog for blood upon this royal threshold?\" Cassandra\nonly answers: \"Are not these children wailing for their death enough?\nIs not their flesh, tasted by their father at their uncle's board,\nmy witness?\" She points to phantoms which the Chorus cannot see, the\nghosts of the children of Thyestes. They reply sullenly, for they know\nthe story of the house: \"We want no soothsayers.\" Then Cassandra breaks\nforth afresh, this time vaticinating imminent calamity: \"What is she\nplotting, what doom unbearable? and there is none to aid!\" The Chorus\ntake up their strain: \"Here, indeed, you are a riddler; what you meant\nbefore was common talk.\" But Cassandra heeds them not. Her second-sight\npierces the palace-walls, and she shrieks: \"Mad woman, are you decking\nyour husband for the bath? The end draws near. Hand stretches forth\nto hand. Is it a net of hell? Keep the ox from the heifer! she hath\ncaught him in her robe and slays him. I tell you he is falling, falling\nin the trough of death.\" The Chorus are puzzled by these hurried and\necstatic exclamations; but their very fear seems to keep them from\nthe apprehension of the truth. Then Cassandra changes her tone, and\nbewails her own misfortunes, her coming death, and the crime of Paris\nwhich brought her to this doom, employing throughout these prophecies\na lyric metre suited to their pregnant brevity. At last, when she has\nwellnigh worn out the patience of the Chorus, she assumes the regular\niambic of common speech: \"Now, then, at length shall the oracle gaze\nupon you free from veils like a bride. The Furies are in this house;\nblood-surfeited, but not assuaged, they hold perpetual revel here. It\nis the crime of Atreus and of Thyestes which they hunt, and woe will\nfall on woe.\" The Chorus can only wonder that she, a foreign princess,\nshould know the secrets of the fated race; but she tells them the story\nof Apollo's love, and how she deceived him, and what he wrought to\npunish her. Then, even as she speaks, the pang of inspiration thrills\nher. Perhaps the speech that follows, through its ghastly blending of\nvisions evoked from the past with insight piercing into the immediate\nfuture, affects the imagination more intensely than any other piece of\ntragic declamation. Even the sleep-mutterings of Lady Macbeth, though\nthey form a curious modern counterpart to the broken exclamations of\nCassandra, are less appalling; for hers reveal a guilty conscience\nmaddened by one crime, while Cassandra's outcry sums up the history of\na whole accursed race, and expresses at the same time the agony of an\ninnocent victim:\n\n    Woe, woe! Ah, ah! what pain!\n    Again the dreadful pangs oracular\n    Shoot through me, tempesting my soul with preludes.\n    See you those children seated on the house-roof?\n    Babes are they, like unto the shapes of dreams;\n    Yea, children seem they, slaughtered by their kin,\n    Whose hands are filled with meat of their own flesh;\n    Their very hearts and entrails, piteous load,\n    I see them bear, whereof their father tasted!\n    Wherefore I say, vengeance for this is plotting.\n    A lion, thewless, amid pillows lapped,\n    House-guard, alas! for my returning master--\n    Mine: for I needs must bear the yoke, a slave.\n    But he, the admiral, Ilion's overthrower,\n    Knows not what things the tongue of that lewd bitch\n    With speeches and with long-drawn fawning fairness, like\n    A lurking At\u00e9, by ill-luck will do.\n    Thus, then, she dares: she, woman, slays a man;\n    Yea, slays. What loathsome reptile can I name her,\n    Nor miss my mark?--foul amphisb\u00e6na, Scylla\n    That dwells in rocks, the ship-borne seaman's bane,\n    Raging mother of hell, a truceless strife\n    Belching on friend and kindred! How she shouted\n    With daring swollen, as when the foemen scatter!\n    Now of these things I care not if I gain\n    No credence. What? What will be, comes; and thou\n    Wilt stand and pity and call me too true prophet.\n\nNo translation can do justice to the appalling fury of the original,\nsince it is only in Greek--a language usually sedate and harmonized\nby sense of beauty--that such phrases as #thyousan A\u00efdou m\u00eater'# have\ntheir full value. The Chorus are shaken from their incredulity, as much\nby the intensity of Cassandra's conviction as by the desperate calm of\nher last words. Is Agamemnon really to be slain? Yes, she answers, and,\npray or not as you may choose, they there inside the house are slaying.\nThen once more the rage of divination seizes her, and the scene of her\nown death, like that of Agamemnon's, flames upon her soul. The second\nspeech has more of pathos than the first, less of fury; but it is\nscarcely less awful:\n\n    Ah, ah! the fire! lo, how it comes upon me!\n    Phoebus Lyc\u00e6an, ho! Ah, woe is me!\n    She, too, this two-foot lioness that couches\n    With the wolf, what time the lion is away,\n    Will slay me, slay me! Like a poison-brewer\n    She'll mix my death-wage with her broth of hell;\n    Yea, and she swears, sharpening the knife to slay him,\n    Her lord shall pay with blood for bringing me.\n    Why wear I, then, these gauds to laugh me down--\n    This rod, these necklace-wreaths oracular?\n    You, ere my death, at least I will destroy:--\n    Go; fall; away, and perish: I shall follow.\n    Make rich some other curse of men than me.\n    Lo, you! Apollo's self is stripping me\n    Of this prophetic raiment--he who saw me\n    Even in these robes jeered at mid friends by foemen,\n    Who scorned in chorus with one voice of vain scorn.\n    Yea, when I was called beggar, vagabond,\n    Poor, wretched, starveling, speechless, I endured:\n    Now he who made me prophetess, the prophet,\n    Himself hath brought me to these straits of death.\n    No altar of my fathers waits for me,\n    But that red block where I must reeking wallow.\n    Nay, but not unavenged of heaven we perish!\n    For yet another in our cause shall come,\n    Avenger, matricide, his father's champion:\n    Though exiled, wandering from this land a stranger,\n    He shall return to crown the curse of kindred:\n    For gods in heaven have sworn a mighty oath\n    That the sire's prostrate corse shall bring him home.\n    Why wait I, then, lamenting thus, an alien?--\n    I, who beheld of old proud Ilion\n    Fare as she fared, and they who dwelt therein\n    Receive such measure from the gods of judgment,\n    I, too, will rise and dare, myself, to perish.\n    Therefore I greet these gates as gates of Hades,\n    Praying a full fair stroke may be my due,\n    That thus with blood that gently flows to waste,\n    Torn by no death-pangs, I these eyes may close.\n\nThe draught of prophecy is now drained to the very dregs. Nothing\nremains but for Cassandra to enter the palace-doors of Hades. She\napproaches them step by step, bewailing, after the fashion of Greek\ntragedy, her own woes, and those of Priam's family. Suddenly she\nstarts. The scent of blood assails her nostrils, and, like a steer\nthat shivers at the gory shambles, she draws back. The Chorus say, \"It\nis only the smell of sacrifice upon the hearth.\" But the weird woman\ndiscovers a very different odor of coming slaughter: \"To me the reek\nis like the breath of charnels.\" Still forward, though shrinking from\nthe unseen, unavoidable doom, she must advance, invoking the avenger\nof herself and Agamemnon, and calling on the all-seeing sun. Her last\nwords are uttered in the same spirit as Macbeth's soliloquy upon the\npoint of battle; they intensify and elevate the tragic moment by\ndrawing the whole destiny of mortals into harmony with her own doom:\n\n    Ah, lives of men! When prosperous, they glitter\n    Like a fair picture; when misfortune comes,\n    A wet sponge at one blow hath blurred the painting.\n\nThus, at the last, tranquil and stately, she touches the door,\nenters, and it shuts behind her. For a while the Chorus stand alone,\nand sing a low, brief chant of terror. The scene is empty, and the\npalace-front towers up into calm light. Then, when our nerves have\nbeen strained to the cracking-point of expectation by Cassandra's\nprophecy and by the silence that succeeds it, from within the house\nis heard the deep-chested cry of Agamemnon: \"O me, I am stricken with\na stroke of death!\" This shriek is the most terrible incident in all\ntragedy, owing to its absolute and awful timeliness, its adequacy to\nthe situation. The whole dramatic apparatus of the play has been, as\nit were, constructed with a view to it; yet, though we expect it, our\nheart stops when at last it comes. The stillness, apparently of home\nrepose, but really of death, which broods upon the house during those\nlast moments, while every second brings the hero nearer to his fate,\nhas in it a concentrated awfulness that surpasses even the knocking at\nthe gate in _Macbeth_. Then comes the cry of Agamemnon, and the whole\nstructure of terror descends upon us. It is as though an avalanche had\nbeen gathering above our heads and gradually loosening--loosening with\nfearfully accelerated ratio of movement as the minutes fly--until a\nsingle word will be enough to make it crumble. That word, uttered from\nbehind the stately palace-walls, startling the guilty and oppressive\nsilence, intimating that the workers have done working, that the victim\nhas been taken in their toils, is nothing less than the shriek of\nthe smitten king. It sounds once for the death-blow given; and once\nagain it sounds to mark a second stroke. Then shriek and silence are\nalike forgotten in the downfall of the mass of dread. The Chorus are\ntorn asunder by hurried and conflicting counsels, eddying like dead\nleaves caught and tossed in the clutches of a tempest. Horror huddles\nupon horror, as the spectacle of slaughter is itself revealed--the\nking's corpse smoking in the silver bath, Cassandra motionless in\ndeath beside him. Above them stands Clytemnestra, shouldering her\nmurderous axe, with open nostrils and dilated eyes, glorying in her\ndeed, cherishing the blood-drops on her arms and dress and sprinkled\nbosom; while, invisible to mortal eyes, the blood-swilled demon of\nthe house sits eying her as its next victim. \u00c6gisthus--craven, but\nspiteful--slinks forth, hyena-like, after the accomplished act, to\ntrample on the hero and insult his grave.\n\nSome such spectacle as this was revealed to the Athenians by the\nrolling back of the eccyclema at the end of the _Agamemnon_. The\ntriumph of adulterous Clytemnestra and cowardly \u00c6gisthus would,\nhowever, have been far from tragic in its utter moral baseness, did we\nnot know that this drama was to be succeeded by another which should\nright the balance. Perhaps this is the reason why the _Oresteia_ is the\nonly extant trilogy. Its three parts are so closely interlinked that to\nseparate them was impossible. The preservers of the _Agamemnon_ were\nforced to preserve the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_; the preservers of the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_\ncould not dispense with the _Eumenides_.\n\nThe Chorus of the _Agamemnon_ demands separate criticism. The Chorus\nin all Greek tragedy performs, it has been often said, the part of an\nideal spectator. It comments on the plot, not daring so much actively\nto interfere, as uttering reflections on the conduct of the _dramatis\nperson\u00e6_, and referring all obscure events to the arbitrament of\nheaven. Thus the Chorus is a mirror of the poet's mind, an index to the\nmoral which he inculcates, an inspired critic of each movement in the\nplay. The choric odes, introduced at turning-points in the main action,\nare lyrical inter-breathings that connect the past and future with\nthe present. In the plays of \u00c6schylus the Chorus, as I have already\nshown, is, moreover, personally interested in the drama. In the case\nof the _Agamemnon_ the fortunes of the burghers of Mycen\u00e6 are engaged\nin the success or failure of Clytemnestra's scheme. At the same time,\nknowing the whole dark history of the house of Atreus, they foresee\nthe perils which their master, as a member of that family, must run.\nIt follows that their songs embody the moral teaching of the tragedy\nitself without lapsing into mere sententiousness. Their sympathies,\nantipathies, and interests add a vital importance to their utterance.\nThe burden of all these odes is that punishment for crime, however long\ndelayed or tortuous in its operation, is inevitable. The grandeur of\nthe whole work depends in a great measure on the force with which this\nidea is wrought out lyrically, sometimes by bold images, sometimes\nby dark innuendoes, repeated like a mystic rede, or tossed upon the\neddies of a wizard chant. From beginning to ending these ancient men\nare adverse to the sons of Atreus, gloomily conscious that they cannot\nprosper. While recognizing the justice of their cause against Paris,\nwho had transgressed the laws of hospitable Zeus, they yet remember\nAgamemnon's swiftness to shed his daughter's blood, the old Erinnys\nwhich pursues the race, the wholesale slaughter of Achaian citizens\nbefore Troy's walls. These recollections inspire them with uneasiness\nbefore the Messenger appears. Their doubts are confirmed by his news\nthat the altars of the Trojans had been dishonored, while their\nmistrust of Clytemnestra adds yet a deeper hue to their alarm. Then\ncomes the scene with Cassandra. No more doubt remains; and the only\nquestion is how to act. Even at the last moment the Chorus do not lose\ntheir faith. They defy Clytemnestra, telling her to her face that her\ncrime must be avenged, that the curse must be worked out to the full,\nand that justice cannot fail to triumph. At the very end they rise to\nprophecy: you, yourself, unfriended in the end, shall fall; the doer,\nwhen Zeus wills, shall suffer for his deed; remember, therefore, that\nOrestes lives.\n\nThe choric interludes of the _Agamemnon_, though burdened with the\nmystery of sin and fate, and tuned to music stern and lofty, abound in\nstrains of pathetic and of tender poetry, deep-reaching to the very\nfount of tears, unmatched by aught else in the Greek language. The\ndemiurge who gave a shape to Titans and to Furies mingled tears with\nthe clay of the men he wrought, and star-fire with the beauty of his\nwomen, and even for the birds of the air and the wild creatures of the\nwoods he felt a sympathy half human, half divine. In the first Chorus,\n\u00c6schylus compares the Atreid\u00e6 to eagles robbed of their young, whose\ncries are answered by Zeus, Phoebus, or Pan. \"Hearing the shrill clamor\nof these airy citizens, he sendeth after-vengeance on the robbers.\"\nAnd, again, Artemis exacts penalty for the hare whom the eagles bore\noff to their nests, a prey. \"So kindly disposed is the fair goddess\nto the tender young of fierce lions, and to the suckling brood of all\nbeasts that range the field and forest.\" Thus the large philosophy\nof the poet includes justice for all living things, and even dumb\ncreatures have their rights, which men may not infringe.\n\nThe depth of his human pathos no mere plummet-line of scholarship or\ncriticism can fathom. Before the vision of Iphigeneia at the altar\nwe must needs be silent: \"Letting fall her saffron-colored skirts\nto earth, she smote each slayer with a piteous arrow from her eyes,\neloquent as in a picture, desiring speech, since oftentimes beside the\nwell-spread board within her father's hall she sang, and maidenly,\nwith chaste voice, honored the p\u00e6an raised in happy times at festal\nsacrifice of her dear sire.\" We do not need the sententious moral\nof Lucretius uttered four centuries later, _tantum relligio potuit\nsuadere malorum_, to point the pathos which \u00c6schylus, with a profounder\ninstinct, draws by one touch from the contrast between then and now. In\nthe same strain is the description of Menelaus abandoned in his home by\nHelen: \"She, leaving to her fellow-citizens the din of shielded hosts,\nand armings of the fleet with spears, bringing to Ilion destruction\nfor a dower, went lightly through the doors, dishonorably brave; and\nmany a sigh was uttered by the bards of the palace, while they sang--O\nhouse! O house, and rulers! O marriage-bed, and pressure on the pillows\nof her head who loved her lord! He stands by in silence, dishonored,\nbut without reproaches, noting with anguish of soul that she is fled.\nYea, in his longing after her who is beyond the sea, a phantom will\nseem to rule his house. The grace of goodly statues hath grown irksome\nto his gaze, and in his widowhood of weary eyes all beauty fades away.\nBut dreams that glide in sleep with sorrow visit him, conveying a vain\njoy; for vain it is, when one hath seemed to see good things, and lo,\nescaping through his hands, the vision flies apace on wings that follow\non the paths of sleep.\"\n\nTo read the Greek aright in this wonderful lyric, so concentrated\nin its imagery, and so direct in its conveyance of the very soul of\npassion, is no light task; but far more difficult it is to render\nit into another language. Yet, even thus, we feel that this poem of\ndefrauded desire and everlasting farewell, of vain outgoings of the\nspirit after vanished joy, is written not merely for Menelaus and the\nGreeks, but for all who stretch forth empty hands to clasp the dreams\nof dear ones, and then turn away, face-downward on the pillow, from the\ndawn, to weep or strain hot eyes that shed no tears. Touched by the\nsame truth of feeling, which includes all human nature in its sympathy,\nis the lament, shortly after uttered by the Chorus, for the numberless\nfair men who died before Troy town. Ares, the grim gold-exchanger, who\nbarters the bodies of men, sends home a little dust shut up within a\nnarrow urn, and wife and father water this with tears, and cry--Behold,\nhe perished nobly in a far land, fighting for a woman, for another's\nwife. And others there are who come not even thus again to their old\nhome; but barrows on Troy plain enclose their fair young flesh, and\nan alien soil is their sepulchre. This picture of beautiful dead men,\nwarriors and horsemen, in the prime of manhood, lying stark and cold,\nwith the dishonor of the grave upon their comely hair, and with the\nbruises of the battle on limbs made for love, is not meant merely for\nAchaians, but for all--for us, perchance, whose dearest moulder on\nCrimean shores or Indian plains, for whom the glorious faces shine no\nmore; but at best some tokens, locks of hair, or books, or letters,\ncome to stay our hunger unassuaged. How truly and how faithfully the\nGreek poet sang for all ages, and for all manner of men, may be seen by\ncomparing the strophes of this Chorus with the last rhapsody but one\nof the chants outpoured in America by Walt Whitman, to commemorate the\nevents of the great war. The pathos which unites these poets, otherwise\nso different in aim and sentiment, is deep as nature, real as life; but\nfrom this common root of feeling springs in the one verse a spotless\nlily of pure Hellenic form, in the other a mystical thick growth of\nfancy, where thoughts brood and nestle amid tufted branches; for the\npowers of classic and of modern singers upon the same substance of\nhumanity are diverse.\n\nThe _Pers\u00e6_ is certainly one of the earliest among the extant tragedies\nof \u00c6schylus, since it was produced upon the stage in 473 B.C., seven\nyears after the battle of Salamis. This drama can scarcely be called a\ntragedy in the common sense of the word. It is rather a tragic show,\ndesigned to grace a national festival and to preserve the memory of\na great victory. That purpose it fulfilled effectively; the events\nit celebrates were still recent; the author of the play had fought\nhimself at Salamis, and the whole Athenian people were glowing with\nthe patriotic impulse that had placed them first among the states of\nHellas. \u00c6schylus was, however, too deeply conscious of the spirit of\nhis art to let the _Pers\u00e6_ sink into the rank of pageantry or triumph.\nThe defeat of Xerxes and his host supplied him with a splendid tragic\ninstance of pride humbled, and greatness brought to nothing, through\none man's impiety and pride. The moral that the poet wished to draw\nis put into the mouth of Darius, whose ghost, evoked by Atossa and\nthe Chorus, completes the tale of Persian disasters by predicting the\nbattle of Plat\u00e6a. \"Swiftly are the oracles accomplished. I looked for\nlength of days; but when a man hastes, God helps to urge him on. It\nwas my son's insolence, in chaining the holy Hellespont, and thinking\nhe could stay the Bosporus, the stream divine, from flowing, which\nbrought these woes. He thought to make a path for his army, to hold\nPoseidon and the powers of Heaven in bondage--he a mortal, and they\ngods! Few of his great host shall come again to Susa. In Hellas they\nmust pay the penalty of arrogance and godless hearts. Coming to that\nland, they thought it no shame to rob the statues of the gods and\nburn the shrines; the altars were cast down, the temples overthrown.\nTherefore, as they did evil, evil shall they suffer. Heaps of dead\nupon Plat\u00e6a's plain shall tell to the third generation, by speechless\nsigns appealing to the eyes of men, that no man mortal may dare raise\nhis heart too high. For insolence blooms forth and bears the crop of\ndisaster, whence one reaps a harvest of tears. Seeing which payment for\nthese crimes, remember Hellas and Athens. Nor let a man, in scorn of\nhis own lot, desire another's good, and spill much wealth; for Zeus, in\nsooth, stands high above, a grievous schoolmaster, to tame excessive\nlifting-up of hearts.\" Nowhere else, it may be said, has \u00c6schylus\nthought fit so decidedly to moralize his dramatic motive, or so clearly\nto state in simple words his philosophy of Nemesis. The ghost of\nDarius, as may be conjectured from this address, does not belong to the\nsame race as the Banquos and Hamlets of our stage. He is a political\nphantom, a monarch evoked from his mausoleum to give sage counsel, and\nwell-informed about the affairs of his empire.\n\nBy laying the scene of this drama at Susa, the ancient capital of the\nPersian kings, \u00c6schylus was enabled to adopt a style of treatment\npeculiarly flattering to his Greek audience. The Persians are made\nto bewail their own misfortunes, to betray the rottenness of their\nvast empire, and to lament the wretchedness of nations subject to\nthe caprice of irresponsible and selfish princes. Inured to slavery,\nthey hug their chains; and, though in rags, Xerxes is still to them a\ndemi-god. The servility of Oriental courtiers, the pomp and pride of\nOriental princes, the obsequious ceremonies and the inflated flatteries\nof barbarians, are translated for Greek ears and eyes into gorgeous\nforms by the poet, whose own genius had something Asiatic in its tone\nand temper. Many occasions for grim irony are afforded by this mode of\nhandling, whereof the famous speech of Atossa on the clothes of Xerxes,\nif that, indeed, be genuine, and the inability of the Chorus, through\nservile shyness, to address the ghost of Darius, furnish the most\nobvious examples. A finer and subtler note is struck in the dialogue\nbetween Atossa and the Chorus just before the news of the defeat at\nSalamis arrives. She asks where Athens may be found:\n\n                      #keina d' ekmathein thel\u00f4,\n    \u00f4 philoi, pou tas Ath\u00eanas phasin hidrysthai chthonos?#\n\nThis offers the poet an opportunity for putting into the mouth of the\nPersian coryph\u00e6us a flattering account of his own nation: No monarch\nhave they, few are they, but all men of might, and strong enough to\nrout the myriad bowmen of the Persian host with spear and shield. The\n_na\u00efvet\u00e9_ of the description--in itself highly complimentary to the\nAthenians--must have made it effective on the stage. We may fancy\nhow the cheering of the men of Marathon re-echoed from the Dionysian\ntheatre, and filled Athene's hill \"song-wise\" with sound, as each\ntriumphant trochaic leaped forth from the Persian lips. At the same\ntime the tragic irony is terrible, for the queen is on the point of\nhearing from the Messenger that this mere handful of spearmen crushed\nher son's host, countless as the stars, in one day upon sea and shore.\nThe real point of that fierce duel of two nations, which decided the\nfuture of the human race--the contrast between barbarians and men in\nwhom the spirit was alive, between slaves driven to the fight like\nsheep and freemen acting consciously as their own will determined,\nbetween the brute force of multitudes and the inspired courage of a\nfew heroes--has never been expressed more radiantly than in this play.\nNo language of criticism can do justice to the incomparable brilliancy\nand vigor with which the tale of Salamis is told. We must remember,\nin reading the speeches of the Messenger, that this is absolutely\nthe first page of Greek history. It came before Herodotus, and the\nsoldier-poet, who had seen what he narrated, was no less conscious\nthan we are, after all our study, of the real issues, of the momentous\ninterests at stake. Never elsewhere has contemporary history been\nwritten thus. In these triumphant rheseis \u00c6schylus did not choose to\nmaintain a bare dramatic propriety. The herald is relating disaster\nafter disaster; yet the elation of the poet pulses through his speech,\nand he cannot be sad. We feel that, while he is dinning into the ears\nof the barbarian empress and her courtiers this panegyric of Hellenic\nheroism, he is really speaking to an Attic audience. The situation is,\nhowever, sufficiently sustained for theatrical purposes by the dignity\nwherewith Atossa meets her ruin. She shows herself a queen in spite\nof all, and the front she presents to \"the sea of troubles\" (#kak\u00f4n\npelagos#) breaking over the whole Asian empire is fully adequate to the\nmagnitude of the calamity. It is difficult to believe that the speech\nwritten for her by \u00c6schylus, when she returns with the libations for\nDarius, was not intended, by its grandly decorative style, to convey\nthe impression of calmness in the midst of sorrow. Atossa is great\nenough to be self-possessed, and to dwell with tender thoughtfulness\nupon the gifts of nature beloved by the powers of darkness. The lines\nare these:\n\n    #boos t' aph' hagn\u00eas leukon eupoton gala,\n    t\u00eas t' anthemourgou stagma, pamphaes meli,\n    libasin hydr\u00ealais parthenou p\u00eag\u00eas meta;\n    ak\u00earaton te m\u00eatros agrias apo\n    poton palaias ampelou ganos tode;\n    t\u00eas d' aien en phylloisi thallous\u00eas ison\n    xanth\u00eas elaias karpos eu\u00f4d\u00eas para,\n    anth\u00ea te plekta pamphorou gaias tekna.#\n\nThis passage is a fair example of the \"mighty line\" of \u00c6schylus,\nemployed for purposes of pure adornment. The pomp and circumstance of\ntragic style, which he so well knew how to use, gave unrivalled dignity\nto his narration. Yet this style, even in the days of Aristophanes,\nhad come to sound extravagant, while its occasional bombast, as in the\nfamous periphrasis for dust,\n\n                          #kasis\n    p\u00ealou xynouros dipsia konis#,\n\nreminds a modern reader too much of the padding of the actors' chests,\nthe cothurnus, brazen mouthpiece, and heightened mask required by\nthe huge size of the Athenian theatre. The phrases invented in the\n_Frogs_ to express the peculiarities of the \u00c6schylean exaggeration,\n#kompophakelorrh\u00eamona#, or #hippoloph\u00f4n log\u00f4n korythaiola neik\u00ea#, or,\nagain,\n\n    #phrixas d' autokomou lophias lasiauchena chaitan\n    deinon episkynion xynag\u00f4n brych\u00f4menos h\u00easei\n    rh\u00eamata gomphopag\u00ea pinak\u00eadon aposp\u00f4n\n    g\u00eagenei phys\u00eamati#,\n\nvery cleverly parody the effect of the more tumid passages. Yet when\n\u00c6schylus chose to be simple he combined majesty with grace, strength\nwith beauty, and speed with volume, in a style which soars higher\nand reaches farther than the polished perfection of Sophocles or the\nartistic elegance of Euripides. The descriptions of Ionia and Doria\ndrawing Xerxes' chariot in Atossa's dream, and of the education of\nmankind in the _Prometheus_, belong to his more pure and chastened\nmanner. The famous speech in which Clytemnestra tells of the leaping up\nof watchfire after watchfire from Troy to Mycen\u00e6, of Ida flashing the\nflame to the Herm\u00e6an cliff of Lemnos, of Athos taking it up and sending\nit with joy across the gulf to far Makistus, of the Messapian warders\nlighting their dry heath and speeding the herald-blaze in brightness\nlike the moon to Cith\u00e6ron, and thence, by peak and promontory, over\nfen and plain and flickering armlet of the sea, onward to Agamemnon's\npalace-tower--this brilliant picture, glittering with the rarest\njewels of imaginative insight, can only be coupled with the Salaminian\nspeeches of the _Pers\u00e6_. They stand in a place apart. Purity, lucidity,\nrapidity, energy, elevation, and fiery intensity of style are here\ndivinely mingled. There is no language and no metre equal to the Greek\nand the iambic for such resonant, elastic, leaping periods as these.\nThe firm grasp upon reality preserved by \u00c6schylus, even in his most\npassionate and most imaginative moments, adds force unrivalled to these\ndescriptive passages.\n\nAt the same time he surpassed all the poets of his nation in a certain\nShakespearian concentration of phrase. The invectives uttered by\nCassandra against Clytemnestra, and her broken exclamations, abound in\nexamples of energetic, almost grotesque, imagery, not to be paralleled\nin Greek literature. The whole of the _Seven against Thebes_, and\nin particular that choric ode which describes the capture and sack\nof a town, might be cited with a similar intention. But perhaps the\nstrongest instance of this more than Greek vehemence of expression\nis the denunciation hurled by Phoebus at the Furies in his Delphian\nshrine:\n\n    Away, I bid you! Leave my palace halls:\n    Quit these pure shrines oracular with speed!\n    Lest haply some winged glistening serpent sent\n    From the gold-twisted bow-wire bite your flesh,\n    And ye, pain-stricken, vomit gory froth,\n    The clotted spilth of man's blood ye have supped.\n    Nay, these gates are not yours! _There_ is your dwelling,\n    Where heads are chopped, eyes gouged in savage justice,\n    Throats cut, and bloom of boys unnamably\n    Is mangled; there where nose and ears are slithered,\n    With stonings, and the piteous smothered moan\n    Of slaves impaled. Hence! Hear ye not whereby,\n    Loving like ghouls these banquets, ye're become\n    To gods abominable? Lo, your shape\n    Bewrays your spirit. Blood-swilled lions' dens\n    Are fit for you to live in, not the seat\n    Of sooth oracular, which you pollute.\n    Go, heifers grazing without herdsman, go!\n    To herd like yours no face of god is kindly.\n\nAnother Shakespearian quality in the \u00c6schylean use of language and of\nimagery might be illustrated from his metaphors. He calls the ocean\na forest--#pontion alsos# or #halirrhyton alsos#--as though he would\nremind us of the great sea-beasts that roam like wolves or lions down\nbeneath the waves. The vultures are #oxystomoi Z\u00eanos akrageis kynes#.\nThe eagle is #Dios pt\u00eanos ky\u00f4n daphoinos#. The Furies of Clytemnestra\nare #m\u00eatros enkotoi kynes#. The Argives who poured forth from the\nWooden Horse to plunder Troy are called #Argeion dakos, hippou neossos,\naspid\u00eaphoros le\u00f4s#. The flame of the thunderbolt becomes #pyros\namph\u00eak\u00eas bostrychos#. The beacon-flame on \u00c6giplanctus is a huge beard,\n#phlogos megan p\u00f4g\u00f4na#. In all these metaphors we trace an imaginative\nenergy which the Greek poets usually sought to curb. When we speak of\nthe mighty line of \u00c6schylus, we naturally remember verses like these:\n\n    #all' hou karanist\u00eares ophthalm\u00f4rychoi#,\n\nand\n\n    #phaiochit\u00f4nes kai peplektan\u00eamenai\n    pyknois drakousin#,\n\nwhich carry with them a massive weight, not only of sound and words,\nbut also of meaning and of imagery. No wonder that Aristophanes\njestingly compared the gravity of the style of \u00c6schylus with that of\nEuripides in balances. A single phrase of the former's causes a score\nof the latter's to kick the beam; and as the sonorous nouns, flanked\nby their polysyllabic epithets, advance, the earth is seen to shake as\nthough battalions were hurrying to the charge, and squadrons of cavalry\nwith thundering horses' hoofs and waving plumes were prancing on the\nplain.\n\nThe difficulty of \u00c6schylus, when it is not due, as in the _Suppliants_\nand in the choric odes of the _Agamemnon_, to a ruined text, may be\nascribed to the rapidity of his transition from one thought to another,\nto the piling-up of images and metaphors, and to the remote and mystic\nnature of the ideas he is seeking for the first time to express in\nlanguage. Where even simple prose could scarcely convey his meaning,\nhe presents a cloud of highly poetic figures to our mind. This kind of\ndifficulty, however, like that which the student has to meet in Pindar,\nis straightforward. You know when you are at fault, and why, and how\nalone you can arrive at a solution of the problem. The difficulty of\nSophocles is more insidious. It is possible to think you understand\nhim, when you really do not; to feel his drift, and yet to find it hard\nto construe his language. In this case the difficulty arises from the\npoet's desire to convey his meaning in a subtle, many-sided, pregnant,\nand yet smooth style. The more you think over it, the more you get from\nit. Euripides belonged to an age of facile speech, fixed phraseology,\nand critical analysis: it therefore follows that he presents fewer\nobvious difficulties to the reader; and this, perhaps, was one reason\nfor his popularity among the early scholars of the modern age. At any\nrate, he does not share with \u00c6schylus the difficulty that arose when a\npoet of intense feeling and sublime imagination strove to grapple with\ndeep and intricate thoughts before language had become a scientific\ninstrument.\n\nIn conclusion I would once again return to that doctrine of\n#path\u00eamata math\u00eamata#, connected with a definite conception of the\ndivine government and based upon a well-considered theory of human\nresponsibility, which may be traced throughout the plays of \u00c6schylus.\nTo this morality his drama owes its unity and vigor, inasmuch as all\nthe plots constructed by the poet both presuppose and illustrate it.\nThe conviction that what a man sows he will reap, and that the world\nis not ruled by blind chance, is, in one sense or another, the most\nsolid ethical acquisition of humanity. Amid so much else that seems to\nshift in morals and in religion, it affords firm ground for action.\nThis vital moral faith the Greeks held as securely, at least, as we do;\nand the theology with which their highest teachers--men like \u00c6schylus,\nPindar, Plato--sought to connect it, tended to weaken its effect far\nless than any other systems of divinity have done. We are too apt to\nforget this, while we fix our attention upon the unrivalled beauty\nof Greek art. In reality there are few nations whose fine literature\ncombines so much \u00e6sthetic splendor with direct, sound, moral doctrine;\nand this, not because the poets strove to preach, but because their\nminds were healthily imbued with human wisdom. Except in the works of\nMilton, we English, for example, can show no poetical exposition of a\nmoral theory at all equal to that of \u00c6schylus. But while Milton sets\nforth his doctrine as a portion of divine revelation, and vitiates it\nwith the dross of dogmatism, \u00c6schylus shows the law implicit in the\nhistory of men and heroes: it is inferred by him intuitively from the\nfacts of spiritual life, as apprehended by the consciousness of the\nGreeks in their best age.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[125] See line 107.\n\n[126] It should be said that the subject-matter of the _Prometheus\nUnbound_ has to be gathered partly from fragments of the play, partly\nfrom prophecies in the _Prometheus Bound_, and partly from later\nversions of the legend.\n\n[127] \"Him who leads men in the ways of wisdom, who has ordained that\nsuffering should teach.\"\n\n[128] See _Supplices_, 524-599.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n_SOPHOCLES._\n\n    The Personal Beauty of Sophocles: his Life; Stories about\n        Him.--Athens in the Age of Pericles.--Antique Criticism\n        on his Style: its Perfect Harmony.--Aristotle's Respect\n        for Sophocles.--Character in Greek Tragedy.--Sophocles\n        and \u00c6schylus.--The Religious Feeling of Sophocles.--His\n        Ethics.--Exquisite Proportion observed in his\n        Treatment of the _Dramatis Person\u00e6_.--Power of Using\n        Motives.--The _Philoctetes_.--Comparison of the\n        _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ and the _Electra_.--Climax of the _Oedipus\n        Colone\u00fcs_.--How Sophocles led onward to Euripides.--The\n        _Trachini\u00e6_.--Goethe's Remarks on the _Antigone_.--The\n        Tale of Thebes.--_Oedipus Tyrannus_, _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_,\n        and _Antigone_ do not make up a Trilogy.--Story of\n        Laius.--The Philosophy of Fate contained in it.--The\n        Oracle.--Analysis of _Oedipus Tyrannus_.--Masterly\n        Treatment of the Character of Oedipus.--Change of\n        Situation in the _Colone\u00fcs_.--Emergence of Antigone into\n        Prominence.--Analysis of the _Antigone_.--The Character of\n        Antigone: its Beauty.--Contrast afforded by Ismene and by\n        Creon.--Fault in the Climax of the _Antigone_.--The Final\n        Solution of the Laian Curse.--Antigone is not subject to\n        Nemesis.\n\n\nSophocles, the son of Sophilus, was born at Colonus, a village about\none mile to the north-west of Athens, in the year 495 B.C. This date\nmakes him thirty years younger than \u00c6schylus, and fifteen older than\nEuripides. His father was a man of substance, capable of giving\nthe best education, intellectual and physical, to his son; and the\neducation in vogue at Athens when Sophocles was a boy was that which\nAristophanes praised so glowingly in the speeches of the Dikaios\nLogos. Therefore, in the case of this most perfect poet, the best\nconditions of training (#troph\u00ea#) were added to the advantages of\nnature (#physis#), and these two essential elements of a noble manhood,\nupon which the theorists of Greece loved to speculate, were realized\nby him conjointly in felicitous completeness. Early in life Sophocles\nshowed that nature had endowed him with personal qualities peculiarly\ncapable of conferring lustre on a Greek artist of the highest type. He\nwas exceedingly beautiful and well-formed, and so accomplished in music\nand gymnastics that he gained public prizes in both these branches\nof a Greek boy's education. His physical grace and skill in dancing\ncaused him to be chosen, in his sixteenth year, to lead the choir in\ncelebration of the victory of Salamis. According to Athenian custom,\nhe appeared on this occasion naked, crowned, and holding in his hand a\nlyre:\n\n    #eithe lyra kal\u00ea genoim\u00ean elephantin\u00ea,\n    kai me kaloi paides pheroien Dionysion es choron.#[129]\n\nThese facts are not unimportant, for no Greek poet was more thoroughly,\nconsistently, and practically #euphy\u00eas#, according to the comprehensive\nmeaning of that term, which denotes physical, as well as moral and\nintellectual, distinction. The art of Sophocles is distinguished\nabove all things by its faultless symmetry, its grace and rhythm, and\nharmonious equipoise of strength and beauty. In his own person the\npoet realized the ideal combination of varied excellences which his\ntragedies exhibit. The artist and the man were one in Sophocles. In his\nhealthful youth and sober manhood, no less than in his serene poetry,\nhe exhibited the pure and tempered virtues of #euphuia#. We cannot\nbut think of him as specially created to represent Greek art in its\nmost refined and exquisitely balanced perfection. It is impossible to\nimagine a more plastic nature, a genius more adapted to its special\nfunction, more fittingly provided with all things needful to its full\ndevelopment, born at a happier moment in the history of the world, and\nmore nobly endowed with physical qualities suited to its intellectual\ncapacity.\n\nIn 468 B.C. Sophocles first appeared as a tragic poet in contest with\n\u00c6schylus. The advent of the consummate artist was both auspicious and\ndramatic. His fame, as a gloriously endowed youth, had been spread\nfar and wide. The supremacy of his mighty predecessor remained as yet\nunchallenged. Therefore the day on which they met in rivalry was a\ngreat national occasion. Party feeling ran so high that Apsephion, the\nArchon Eponymus, who had to name the judges, chose no meaner umpires\nthan the general Cimon and his colleagues, just returned from Scyros,\nbringing with them the bones of the Attic hero Theseus. Their dignity\nand their recent absence from the city were supposed to render them\nfair critics in a matter of such moment. Cimon awarded the victory\nto Sophocles. It is greatly to be regretted that we have lost the\ntragedies which were exhibited on this occasion; we do not know,\nindeed, with any certainty, their titles. As Welcker has remarked,\nthe judges were called to decide, not so much between two poets as\nbetween two styles of tragedy; and if Plutarch's assertion, that\n\u00c6schylus retired to Sicily in consequence of the verdict given against\nhim, be well founded, we may also believe that two rival policies in\nthe city were opposed, two types of national character in collision.\n\u00c6schylus belonged to the old order. Sophocles was essentially a man\nof the new age, of the age of Pericles and Pheidias and Thucydides.\nThe incomparable intellectual qualities of the Athenians of that\nbrief blossom-time have so far dazzled modern critics that we have\ncome to identify their spirit with the spirit itself of the Greek\nrace. Undoubtedly the glories of Hellas, her special _geist_ in art\nand thought and state-craft, attained at that moment to maturity\nthrough the felicitous combination of external circumstances, and\nthrough the prodigious mental greatness of the men who made Athens so\nsplendid and so powerful. Yet we must not forget that Themistocles\npreceded Pericles, while Cleon followed after; that Herodotus came\nbefore Thucydides, and that Aristotle, at a later date, philosophized\non history; that \u00c6schylus and Euripides have each a shrine in the\nsame temple with Sophocles. And all these men, whose names are notes\nof differences deep and wide, were Greeks, almost contemporaneous.\nThe later and the earlier groups in this triple series are, perhaps,\neven more illustrative of Greece at large; while the Periclean trio\nrepresent Athenian society, in a special and narrow sense, at its most\nluminous and brilliant, most isolated and artificial, most self-centred\nand consummate point of #autarkeia#, or internal adequacy. Sophocles\nwas the poet of this transient phase of Attic culture, unexampled\nin the history of the world for its clear and flawless character,\nits purity of intellectual type, its absolute clairvoyance, and its\nplenitude of powers matured, but unimpaired, by use.\n\nFrom the date 468 to the year of his death, at the age of ninety,\nSophocles composed one hundred and thirteen plays. In twenty contests\nhe gained the first prize; he never fell below the second place. After\n\u00c6schylus he only met one formidable rival, Euripides. What we know\nabout his life is closely connected with the history of his works. In\n440 B.C., after the production of the _Antigone_, he was chosen, on\naccount of his political wisdom, as one of the generals associated\nwith Pericles in the expedition to Samos. But Sophocles was not, like\n\u00c6schylus, a soldier; nor was he in any sense a man of action. The\nstories told about his military service turn wholly upon his genial\ntemperament, serene spirits, unaffected modesty, and pleasure-loving\npersonality. So great, however, was the esteem in which his character\nfor wisdom and moderation was held by his fellow-citizens that they\nelected him in 413 B.C. one of the ten commissioners of public safety,\nor #probouloi#, after the failure of the Syracusan expedition. In\nthis capacity he gave his assent to the formation of the governing\ncouncil of the Four Hundred two years later, thus voting away the\nconstitutional liberties of Athens. It is recorded that he said this\nmeasure was not a good one, but the best under bad circumstances. It\nshould, however, be said that doubt has been thrown over this part of\nthe poet's career; it is not certain that the Sophocles in question was\nin truth the author of _Antigone_.\n\nOne of the best-authenticated and best-known episodes in the life of\nSophocles is connected with the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_. As an old man, he\nhad to meet a lawsuit brought against him by his legitimate son Iophon,\nwho accused him of wishing to alienate his property to the child of his\nnatural son Ariston. This boy, called Sophocles, was the darling of his\nlater years. The poet was arraigned before a jury of his tribe, and the\nplea set up by Iophon consisted of an accusation of senile incapacity.\nThe poet, preserving his habitual calmness, recited the famous chorus\nwhich contains the praises of Colonus. Whereupon the judges rose\nand conducted him with honor to his house, refusing for a moment to\nconsider so frivolous and unwarranted a charge.\n\nPersonally Sophocles was renowned for his geniality and equability of\ntemper; #eukolos men enthad' eukolos d' ekei# is the terse and emphatic\ndescription of his character by Aristophanes. That he was not averse to\npleasures of the sense is proved by evidence as good as that on which\nsuch biographical details of the ancients generally rest. To slur these\nstories over because they offend modern notions of propriety is feeble,\nthough, of course, it is always open to the critic to call in question\nthe authorities; and in this particular instance the witnesses are far\nfrom clear. The point, however, to be remembered is that, supposing\nthem true to fact, Sophocles would himself have smiled at such\nunphilosophical partisanship as seeks to overthrow them in the interest\nof his reputation. That a poet, distinguished for his physical beauty,\nshould refrain from sensual enjoyments in the flower of his age is not\na Greek, but a Christian notion. Such abstinence would have indicated\nin Sophocles mere want of inclination. The words of Pindar are here\nmuch to the purpose:\n\n    #chr\u00ean men kata kairon er\u00f4t\u00f4n drepesthai, thyme, syn haliki\u00e2i.#[130]\n\nAll turned upon the #kata kairon#, and no one had surely a better\nsense of the #kairos#, the proper time and season for all things,\nthan Sophocles. He showed his moderation--which quality, not total\nabstinence, was virtue in such matters for the Greeks--by knowing how\nto use his passions, and when to refrain from their indulgence. The\nwhole matter is summed up in this passage from the _Republic_ of Plato:\n\"How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when, in answer to the\nquestion, 'How does love suit with age, Sophocles--are you still the\nman you were?' 'Peace,' he replied; 'most gladly have I escaped from\nthat, and I feel as if I had escaped from a mad and furious master.'\"\n\nA more serious defect in the character of Sophocles is implied in the\nhint given by Aristophanes, that he was too fond of money. The same\ncharge was brought against many Greek poets. We may account for it\nby remembering that the increased splendor of Athenian life, and the\nluxuriously refined tastes of the tragedian, must have tempted him to\ndo what the Greeks very much disliked--make profit by the offspring\nof his brain. To modern notions nothing can sound stranger than the\ninvectives of the philosophers against sophists who sold their wisdom;\nit can only be paralleled by their deeply rooted misconceptions about\ninterest on capital, which even Aristotle regarded as unnatural and\ncriminal. That Sophocles was in any deeper sense avaricious or miserly\nwe cannot believe: it would contradict the whole tenor of the tales\nabout his geniality and kindness.\n\nUnlike \u00c6schylus and Euripides, Sophocles never quitted Athens, except\non military service. He lived and wrote there through his long career\nof laborious devotion to the highest art. We have, therefore, every\nright, on this count also, to accept his tragedies as the purest mirror\nof the Athenian mind at its most brilliant period. Athens, in the age\nof Pericles, was adequate to the social and intellectual requirements\nof her greatest sons; and a poet whose earliest memories were connected\nwith Salamis may well have felt that even the hardships of the\nPeloponnesian war were easier to bear within the sacred walls of the\ncity than exile under the most favorable conditions. No other centre\nof so much social and political activity existed. Athens was the Paris\nof Greece, and Sophocles and Socrates were the Parisians of Athens. At\nthe same time the stirring events of his own lifetime do not appear to\nhave disturbed the tranquillity of Sophocles. True to his destiny, he\nremained an artist; and to this immersion in his special work he owed\nthe happiness which Phrynichus recorded in these famous lines:\n\n    #makar Sophokle\u00eas, hos polyn chronon bious\n    apethanen eudaim\u00f4n an\u00ear kai dexios;\n    pollas poi\u00easas kai kalas trag\u00f4idias\n    kal\u00f4s eteleut\u00eas' ouden hypomeinas kakon.#\n\n    Thrice-happy Sophocles! in good old age,\n    Blessed as a man, and as a craftsman blessed,\n    He died: his many tragedies were fair,\n    And fair his end, nor knew he any sorrow.\n\nThe change effected by Sophocles in tragedy tended to mature the drama\nas a work of pure art, and to free it further from the Dionysiac\ntraditions. He broke up the trilogy into separate plays, exhibiting\nthree tragedies and a satyric drama, like \u00c6schylus before him, but\nundoing the link by which they were connected, so that he was able to\nmake each an independent poem. He added a third actor, and enlarged\nthe number of the chorus, while he limited its function as a motive\nforce in the drama. These innovations had the effect of reducing the\nscale upon which \u00c6schylus had planned his tragedies, and afforded\nopportunities for the elaboration of detail. It was more easy for\nSophocles than it had been for \u00c6schylus to exhibit play of character\nthrough the interaction of the _dramatis person\u00e6_. Tragedy left the\nremote and mystic sphere of \u00c6schylean theosophy, and confined herself\nto purely human arguments. Attention was concentrated on the dialogue,\nin which the passions of men in action were displayed. The dithyrambic\nelement was lost; the choric odes providing a relief from violent\nexcitement, instead of embodying the very soul and spirit of the poet's\nteaching. While limiting the activity of the chorus, Sophocles did not,\nlike Euripides, proceed to disconnect it from the tragic interest, or\npay less attention than his predecessors to its songs. On the contrary,\nhis choric interludes are models of perfection in this style of lyric\npoetry, while their subject-matter is invariably connected with the\nchief concerns and moral lessons of the drama.\n\nThe extant plays of Sophocles are all later than the year 440 B.C.\nThey may safely be said to belong to the period of his finished style;\nor, in the language of art criticism, to his third manner. What this\nmeans will appear from a valuable passage in Plutarch: \"Sophocles used\nto say that, when he had put aside the tragic pomp of \u00c6schylus, and\nthen the harsh and artificial manner of his own elaborate style, he\narrived in the third place at a form of speech which is best suited\nto portray the characters of men, and is the most excellent.\" Thus it\nwould appear that Sophocles had begun his career as a dramatist by\nthe study of the language of \u00c6schylus; finding that too turgid and\nemphatic, he had fallen into affectation and refinement, and finally\nhad struck the just medium between the rugged majesty of his master\nand the mannered elegance which was in vogue among the sophists.\nThe result was that peculiar mixture of grace, dignity, and natural\neloquence which scholars know as Sophoclean. It is interesting to\nnotice that the first among the extant tragedies of Sophocles, the\n_Antigone_, is more remarkable for studied phrase and verbal subtleties\nthan his later plays. The _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_, which is the last of the\nwhole series, exhibits the style of the poet in its perfect purity\nand freedom. A curious critical passage in Plutarch seems to indicate\nthat the ancients themselves observed the occasional euphuism of the\nSophoclean style as a blemish. It runs thus: #mempsaito d' an tis\nArchilochou men t\u00ean hypothesin ... Euripidou de t\u00ean lalian, Sophokleous\nde t\u00ean an\u00f4malian.#[131] \"One might censure the garrulity of Euripides\nand the inequality of Sophocles.\" I am not, however, certain whether\nthis or \"linguistic irregularity\" is the right meaning of the word\n#an\u00f4malia#. Another censure, passed by Longinus upon Sophocles, points\nout a defect which is the very last to be observed in any of the extant\ntragedies: \"Pindar and Sophocles at one time burn everything before\nthem in their fiery flight, but often strangely lack the flame of\ninspiration, and fall most grievously to earth.\"[132] Then he adds:\n\"Certainly no wise critic would value all the plays of Ion put together\nat the same rate as the single tragedy of _Oedipus_.\" The importance\nof these critiques is to prove that the ancients regarded Sophocles\nas an unequal, and in some respects a censurable poet, whence we may\ninfer that only masterpieces belonging to his later style have been\npreserved to us, since nothing, to a modern student, is more obvious\nthan the uniform sustained perfection of our seven inestimably precious\ntragedies. A certain tameness in the _Trachini\u00e6_, and a relaxation of\ndramatic interest in the last act of the _Ajax_, are all the faults it\nis possible to find with Sophocles.\n\nWhat Sophocles is reported to have said about his style will\napply to his whole art. The great achievement of Sophocles was to\nintroduce regularity of proportion, moderation of tone, and proper\nbalance into tragedy. The Greek phrases #symmetria#, #s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea#,\n#metriot\u00eas#--proportion of parts, self-restraint, and moderation--sum\nup the qualities of his drama when compared with that of \u00c6schylus.\n\u00c6schylus rough-hewed like a Cyclops, but he could not at the same\ntime finish like Praxiteles. What the truth of this saying is, I have\nalready tried to show.[133] Sophocles attempted neither Cyclopean nor\nPraxitelean work. He attained to the perfection of Pheidias. Thus\nwe miss in his tragedies the colossal scale and terrible effects of\n\u00c6schylean art. His plays are not so striking at first sight, because\nit was his aim to put all the parts of his composition in their\nproper places, and to produce a harmony which should not agitate or\nstartle, but which upon due meditation should be found complete. The\n#s\u00f4phrosyn\u00ea#, or moderation, exhibited in all his work, implies by its\nvery nature the sacrifice of something--the sacrifice of passion and\nimpetuosity to higher laws of equability and temper. So perfect is the\nbeauty of Sophocles, that, as in the case of Raphael or Mozart, it\nseems to conceal the strength and fire which animate his art.\n\nAristotle, in the _Poetics_, observes that \"Poetry is the proper affair\nof either enthusiastic or artistic natures,\" #euphyous \u00ea manikou#.\nNow \u00c6schylus exactly answers to the notion of the #manikos#, while\nSophocles corresponds to that of the #euphy\u00eas#. To this distinction\nbetween the two types of genius we may refer the partiality of\nAristotle for the younger dramatist. The work of the artistic poet is\nmore instructive and offers more matter for profitable analysis, for\nprecept and example, than that of the divinely inspired enthusiast.\nWhere creative intelligence has been used consciously and effectively\nto a certain end, critical intelligence can follow. It is clear that\nin the _Poetics_, which we may regard as a practical text-book for\nstudents, the philosopher is using the tragedy of Sophocles, and in\nparticular the _Oedipus Tyrannus_, as the standard of perfection.\nWhatever he has to say about the handling of character, the treatment\nof the fable, the ethics of the drama, the catastrophes and\nrecognitions (#peripeteiai# and #anagn\u00f4riseis#), that absorbed so large\na part of his dramatic analysis, he points by references to _Oedipus_.\nIn Sophocles Aristotle found the #mesot\u00eas#, or intermediate quality,\nbetween two extremes, which, in \u00e6sthetics as in morals, seemed to his\nGreek mind most excellent. Consequently he notes all deflections from\nthe Sophoclean norm as faulty; and, since in his day Euripides led the\ntaste of the Athenians, he frequently shows how tragic art had suffered\nby a deviation from the principles Sophocles illustrated. The chief\npoint on which he insists is the morality of the drama. \"The tragedies\nof the younger poets for the most part are unethical.\" With his use of\nthe word #\u00eathos# we must be careful not to confound the modern notion\nof morality: #\u00eathos# means, indeed, with Aristotle as with us, the\ndetermination of the character to goodness or badness; but it also\nincludes considerations of what is appropriate to sex and quality and\ncircumstance in the persons of a work of fiction. The best modern\nequivalent for #\u00eathos#, therefore, is character. Since tragedy is an\nimitation of men acting according to their character, #\u00eathos#, in this\nwide sense, is the whole stuff of the dramatist, and a proper command\nof #\u00eathos# implies real knowledge of mankind. Therefore, when Aristotle\naccuses the tragedies of Euripides and his school of being \"unethical,\"\nhe does not merely mean that they were prejudicial to good manners, but\nalso that they were false to human nature, unscientific, and therefore\ninartistic; exceptional or morbid, wavering in their conception and\nunequal in their execution. The truly great poet, Sophocles, shows\nhis artistic tact and taste by only selecting such characters as are\nsuitable to tragedy. He depicts men, but men of heroic mould, men as\nthey ought to be.[134] When Sophocles said that he portrayed men as\ntragedy required them to be, whereas Euripides drew them just as they\nare, he indicated the real solution of the tragic problem.[135] The\npoint here raised by Aristotle has an intimate connection with its\nwhole theory of tragedy. Tragic poetry must purify the passions of\nfear and pity; in other words, it must teach men not to fear when fear\nis vile, or to pity where pity would be thrown away. By exhibiting a\nspectacle that may excite the fear of really dreadful calamity, and\ncompassion for truly terrible misfortune, tragedy exalts the soul above\nthe ordinary miseries of life, and nerves it to face the darker evils\nto which humanity in its blindness, sin, and self-pride is exposed. Now\nthis lesson cannot be taught by drawing men as they exist around us.\nThat method drags the mind back to the trivialities of every day.\n\nWhat Aristotle says about the #\u00eath\u00ea# of tragedy may be applied to\npoint the differences between Sophocles and \u00c6schylus. He has not\nhimself drawn the comparison; but it is clear that, as Euripides\ndeflects on the one hand from the purely ethical standard, so also\ndoes \u00c6schylus upon the other. \u00c6schylus keeps us in the high and mystic\nregion of religious fatalism. Sophocles transports us into the more\nhuman region of morality. His problem is to exhibit the complexities\nof life--\"whatsoever has passion or admiration in all the changes of\nthat which is called fortune from without, or the wily subtleties and\nreflexes of man's thoughts from within\"--and to set forth men of noble\nmental stature acting in subjection to the laws appointed for the\norder of the world. His men and women are like ourselves, only larger\nand better in so far as they are simpler and more beautiful. Like the\ncharacters of \u00c6schylus, they suffer for their sins; but we feel that\nthe justice that condemns them is less mystic in its operation, more\ncapable of philosophical analysis and scientific demonstration.\n\nIt must not be thought, therefore, that Sophocles is less religious\nthan \u00c6schylus. On the contrary, he shows how the will and passion of\nmen are inevitably and invariably related to divine justice. Human\naffairs can only be understood by reference to the deity; for the\ndecrees of Zeus, or of that power which is above Zeus, and which\nhe also obeys, give their moral complexion to the motives and the\nacts of men. Yet, while \u00c6schylus brings his theosophy in detail\nprominently forward, Sophocles prefers to maintain a sense of the\ndivine background. He spiritualizes religion, while he makes it more\nindefinite. By the same process it is rendered more impregnable within\nits stronghold of the human heart and reason, less exposed to the\nattacks of logic or the changes of opinion. The keynote to his tragic\nmorality is found in these two passages:[136]\n\n    \"Oh! that my lot may lead me in the path of holy innocence of\n    word and deed, the path which august laws ordain, laws that in\n    the highest empyrean had their birth, of which heaven is the\n    father alone, neither did the race of mortal man beget them,\n    nor shall oblivion ever put them to sleep. The power of God is\n    mighty in them, and groweth not old.\"\n\nThe second is like unto the first in spirit:\n\n    It was no Zeus who thus commanded me,\n    Nor Justice, dread mate of the nether powers,--\n    For they, too, gave these rules to govern men.\n    Nor did I fondly deem thy proclamations\n    Were so infallible that any mortal\n    Might overleap the sure unwritten laws\n    Of gods. These neither now nor yesterday,\n    Nay, but from everlasting without end,\n    Live on, and no man knows when they were issued.\n\nThe religious instinct in Sophocles has made a long step towards\nindependence since the days of \u00c6schylus. No more upon Olympus or at\nDelphi alone will the Greek poet worship. He has learned that \"God is\na spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in\ntruth.\" The voice that speaks within him is the deity he recognizes.\nAt the same time the Chorus of the _Oedipus_, part of which has just\nbeen quoted, and that of the _Antigone_, which bewails the old doom\nof the house of Labdacus, might, but for their greater calmness, have\nbeen written by \u00c6schylus. The moral doctrine of Greek tragedy has not\nbeen changed, but humanized. We have got rid in a great measure of\nancient demons, and brass-footed Furies, and the greed of earth for\nblood in recompense for blood. We have passed, as it were, from the\nshadow cast by the sun into the sunlight itself. And, in consequence\nof this transfiguration, the morality of Sophocles is imperishable.\n\"Not of to-day nor of yesterday, but fixed from everlasting,\" are his\nlaws. We may all learn of him now, as when Antigone first stood before\nthe throne of Creon on the Attic stage. The deep insight into human\nlife, that most precious gift of the Greek genius, which produced their\ngreatest contributions to the education of the world, is in Sophocles\nobscured no longer by mystical mythology and local superstition. His\nwisdom is the common heritage of human nature.\n\nThe moral judgments of \u00c6schylus were severe. Those of Sophocles,\nimplicit in his tragic situations rather than expressed, are not less\nfirm; but he seems to feel a more tender pity for humanity in its\nweakness and its blindness. The philosophy of life, profoundly sad\nupon the one side, but cheerful on the other, which draws lessons of\nsobriety and tempered joy from the consideration of human impotence and\nignorance, is truly Greek. We find it nowhere more strongly set forth\nthan by Sophocles and Aristophanes--by the comic poet in the Parabasis\nof the _Birds_, and in the songs of the Myst\u00e6 in the _Frogs_, by the\ntragic poet in his choruses, and also in what is called his irony.\n\nAll that has been said about the art of Sophocles up to this point\nhas tended to establish one position. His innate and unerring tact,\nhis sense of harmony and measure, produced at Athens a new style of\ndrama, distinguished for finish of language, for careful elaboration\nof motives, for sharp and delicate character-drawing, and for balance\nof parts. If we do not find in Sophocles anything to match the passion\nof Cassandra, the cry of Agamemnon, or the opening of the _Eumenides_,\nthere is yet in his plays a combination of quite sufficient boldness\nand inventiveness with more exquisite workmanship than \u00c6schylus could\ngive. The breadth of the whole is not lost through the minuteness\nof the details. Unlike \u00c6schylus, Sophocles opens very quietly, with\nconversations, for the most part, which reveal the characters of the\nchief persons or explain the situation. The passion grows with the\ndevelopment of the plot, and it is only when the play is finished that\njustice can be done to any separate part. Each of the seven tragedies\npresents one person, who dominates the drama, and in whom its interest\nis principally concentrated. Oedipus in his two plays, Antigone in\nhers, Philoctetes in his, Deianeira in the _Trachini\u00e6_, Electra in her\nplay, and Ajax in his, stand forth in powerful and prominent relief.\nThen come figures on the second plane, no less accurately conceived\nand conscientiously delineated, but used with a view to supporting the\nchief personages, and educing their decisive action.[137] A _r\u00f4le_ of\nthis kind is given to Orestes in the _Electra_, to Neoptolemus in the\n_Philoctetes_, to Teucer in the _Ajax_, to Creon in the _Antigone_,\nto Teiresias in the _Oedipus_. Clytemnestra and Tecmessa, Odysseus\nand Theseus, play similar parts. Again, there is a third plane for\ncharacters still more subordinate, but no less artistically important,\nsuch as Jocasta, Ismene, Chrysothemis, \u00c6gisthus, Hyllus. Then follow\nthe numerous accessory persons--_instrumenta dramatis_--the guardian of\nthe corpse of Polyneices, the shepherd of Laius, the tutor of Orestes,\nmessengers and servants, all of whom receive their special physiognomy\nfrom the great master. In this way Sophocles made true \u00e6sthetic use of\nthe three agonist\u00e6. The principle on which these parts were distributed\nin his tragedies will be found to have deep and subtle analogies with\nthe laws of bass-relief in sculpture. Poetry, however, being a far more\nindependent art than sculpture, may employ a greater multiplicity of\nparts, and produce a far more complex effect than can be realized in\nbass-relief.\n\nThe _Philoctetes_ might be selected as an example of the power in\nhandling motives possessed by Sophocles. The amount of interest he has\nconcentrated by a careful manipulation of one point--the contest for\nthe bow of Herakles--upon so slight and stationary a plot, is truly\nwonderful. Not less admirable is the contrast between the youthful\ngenerosity of Neoptolemus and the worldly wisdom of Odysseus--the\nyoung man pliant at first to the crafty persuasions of the elder, but\nrestored to his sense of honor by the compassion which Philoctetes\nstirs, and by the trust he places in him. Nothing more beautiful can be\nconceived than this moral revolution in the character of Neoptolemus.\nIt suited the fine taste and exquisite skill of Sophocles not only to\nexhibit changes in circumstance and character, but also to compel a\nchange of sympathy and of opinion in his audience. Thus, in the _Ajax_,\nhe contrives to reverse the whole situation, by showing in the end\nAjax sublime and Odysseus generous, though at first the one seemed\nsunk below humanity, and the other hateful in his vulgar scorn of a\nfallen rival. The art which works out psychological problems of this\nsubtle kind, and which invests a plot like that of the _Philoctetes_\nwith intense interest, is very far removed from the method of \u00c6schylus.\nThe difference between the two styles may, however, be appreciated\nbest by a comparison of the _Electra_ with the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_. In these\ntwo tragedies very nearly the same motives are employed; but what was\nsimple and straightforward in \u00c6schylus becomes complex and involved\nin Sophocles. Instead of Orestes telling the tale of his own death,\nwe have the narrative of his tutor, confirmed and ratified by himself\nin person. Instead of Electra at once recognizing her brother, she\nis brought at first to the verge of despair by hearing of his death.\nThen Chrysothemis informs her of the lock of hair. This, however,\ncannot reassure Electra in the face of the tutor's message. So the\nsituation is admirably protracted. \u00c6schylus misses all that is gained\nfor the development of character by the resolve of Electra, stung to\ndesperation by her brother's death, to murder \u00c6gisthus, and by the\ncontrast between her single-hearted daring and the feebler acquiescent\ntemper of Chrysothemis. Also the peripeteia whereby Electra is made\nto bewail the urn of Orestes, and then to discover him alive before\nher, is a stroke of supreme art which was missed in the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_.\nThe pathos of the situation is almost too heart-rending; at one moment\nits intensity verges upon discord; but the resolution of the discord\ncomes in that long cadence of triumphant harmony when the anagnorisis\nat length arrives. Nor is the ingenuity of Sophocles, in continuing\nand sustaining the interest of this one set of motives, yet exhausted.\nWhile the brother and sister are rejoicing together, the action waits,\nand every moment becomes more critical, until at last the tutor\nreappears and warns them of their perilous imprudence. To take another\npoint: the dream of Clytemnestra is more mysterious and doubtful in\nthe _Electra_ than in the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_; while her appearance on the\nstage at the beginning of the play, her arguments with Electra, her\nguarded prayers to Phoebus, and her reception of the tutor's message,\nenable Sophocles fully to develop his conception of her character. On\nthe other hand, Sophocles has sacrificed the most brilliant features\nof the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_--the dreadful scene of Clytemnestra's death, than\nwhich there is nothing more passionately piteous and spirit-quelling in\nall tragedy, and the descent of his mother's furies on the murderer.\nIt was the object of Sophocles not so much to dwell upon the action\nof Orestes as to exhibit the character of Electra; therefore, at the\nsupreme moment, when the cry of the queen is heard within the palace,\nhe shows his heroine tremendous in her righteous hatred and implacable\ndesire for vengeance. Such complete and exhaustive elaboration of\nmotives, characters, and situations, as forms the chief artistic\nmerit of the _Electra_, would, perhaps, have been out of place in the\n_Cho\u00ebphoroe_, which was only the second play in a trilogy, and had,\ntherefore, to be simple and stationary, according to the principles\nof \u00c6schylean art. The character of Clytemnestra, for example, needed\nno development, seeing that she had taken the first part in the\n_Agamemnon_. Again, it was necessary for \u00c6schylus to insist upon the\naction of Orestes more than Sophocles was forced to do, in order\nthat the climax of the _Cho\u00ebphoroe_ might produce the subject of the\n_Eumenides_. In comparing Sophocles with his predecessor, we must never\nforget that we are comparing single plays with trilogies. This does\nnot, however, make the Sophoclean mastery of motives and of plots the\nless admirable; it only fixes our attention on the real nature of the\ninnovations adopted by the younger dramatist.\n\nAnother instance of the art wherewith Sophocles prepared a tragic\nsituation, and graduated all the motives which should conduct the\naction to a final point, may be selected from the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_.\nIt was necessary to describe the death of Oedipus, since the fable\nselected for treatment precluded anything approaching to a presentation\non the stage of this supreme event. Oedipus is bound to die alone\nmysteriously, delivering his secret first in solitude to Theseus. A\nMessenger's speech was, therefore, imperatively demanded, and to render\nthat the climax of the drama taxed all the resources of the poet. First\ncomes thunder, the acknowledged signal of the end. Then the speech of\nOedipus, who says that now, though blind, he will direct his steps\nunhelped. Theseus is to follow and to learn. Oedipus rises from his\nseat; his daughters and the king attend him. They quit the stage, and\nthe Chorus is left alone to sing. Then comes the Messenger, and gives\nthe sublime narration of his disappearance. We hear the voice that\ncalled--\n\n    #\u00f4 houtos houtos Oidipous ti mellomen\n    ch\u00f4rein? palai d\u00ea tapo sou bradynetai.#\n\nWe see the old man descending the mysterious stairs, Antigone and\nIsmene grouped above, and last, the kneeling king, who shrouds his eyes\nbefore a sight intolerable. All this, as in a picture, passes before\nour imagination. To convey the desired effect otherwise than by a\nnarrative would have been impossible, and the narrative, owing to the\nexpectation previously raised, is adequate.\n\nTo compare Sophocles with Euripides, after having said so much about\nthe points of contrast between him and \u00c6schylus, and to determine\nhow much he may have owed in his later plays to the influence of\nthe younger poet, would be an interesting exercise of criticism.\nThat, however, belongs rather to an essay dealing directly with the\nthird Greek dramatist in detail. It is sufficient here to notice a\nfew points in which Sophocles seems to have prepared the way for\nEuripides. In the first place he developed the part of the Messenger,\nand made far more of picturesque description than \u00c6schylus had done.\nThen, again, his openings suggested the device of the prologue by\ntheir abandonment of the eminently scenic effects with which \u00c6schylus\npreferred to introduce a drama. The separation of the Chorus from the\naction was another point in which Sophocles led onward to Euripides.\nSo also was the device of the _deus ex machin\u00e2_ in the _Philoctetes_,\nunless, indeed, we are to regard this as an invention adopted from\nEuripides.[138] Nor, in this connection, is it insignificant that\nAristotle credits Sophocles with the invention of #sk\u00eanographia#,\nor scene-painting. The abuse of scenical resources to the detriment\nof real dramatic unity and solidity was one of the chief defects of\nEuripidean art.\n\nIt may here be noticed that Sophocles in the _Trachini\u00e6_ took up the\ntheme of love as a main motive for a drama. By doing so he broke ground\nin a region that had been avoided, as far as we can judge from extant\nplays, by \u00c6schylus, and in which Euripides was destined to achieve his\ngreatest triumphs. It is, indeed, difficult to decide the question of\nprecedence between Sophocles and Euripides in this matter. Except on\nthis account the _Trachini\u00e6_ is the least interesting of his tragedies.\nThe whole play seems like a somewhat dull, though conscientious,\nhandling of a fable in which the poet took but a slight interest.\nCompared with Medea or with Ph\u00e6dra, Deianeira is tame and lifeless.\nShe makes one fatal and foolish mistake through jealousy, and all is\nover. Hyllus, too, is a mere _silhouette_, while the contention between\nhim and Herakles about the marriage with Iole, at the end, is frigid.\nHere, if anywhere, we detect the force of the critique quoted above\nfrom Longinus. At the same time the _Trachini\u00e6_ offers many points\nof interest to the student of Greek sentiment. The phrase #taut\u00eas ho\ndeinos himeros# is significant, as expressing the pain and forceful\nenergy which the Greeks attributed to passion; nor is the contrast\ndrawn by Deianeira between #posis# and #an\u00ear# without value. The\nmotive used by Sophocles in this tragedy was developed by Euripides\nwith a comprehension so far deeper, and with a fulness so far more\nsatisfactory, that the _Hippolytus_ and the _Medea_ must always take\nrank above it.\n\nThe deepest and most decisive quality in which the tragic art of\nSophocles resembled that of Euripides is rhetoric. Sophocles was the\nfirst to give its full value to dramatic casuistry, to introduce\nsophistic altercations, and to set forth all that could be well said\nin support of a poor argument. A passage on this subject may be quoted\nfrom \"Eckermann's Conversations with Goethe:\"[139]\n\n    \"That is the very thing,\" said Goethe, \"in which Sophocles is\n    a master; and in which consists the very life of the dramatic\n    in general. His characters all possess this gift of eloquence,\n    and know how to explain the motives for their action so\n    convincingly that the hearer is almost always on the side of\n    the last speaker. One can see that in his youth he enjoyed an\n    excellent rhetorical education, by which he became trained to\n    look for all the reasons and seeming reasons of things. Still\n    his great talent in this respect betrayed him into faults, as\n    he sometimes went too far.\"\n\nThe special point selected by Goethe for criticism is the celebrated\nlast speech of Antigone:\n\n    \"At last, when she is led to death, she brings forward a motive\n    which is quite unworthy, and almost borders on the comic. She\n    says that if she had been a mother she would not have done\n    either for her dead children or for her dead husband what she\n    has done for her brother. 'For,' says she, 'if my husband died\n    I could have had another, and if my children died I could\n    have had others by my new husband. But with my brother the\n    case is different. I cannot have another brother; for since\n    my mother and father are dead, there is none to beget one.'\n    This is, at least, the bare sense of the passage, which, in\n    my opinion, when placed in the mouth of a heroine going to\n    her death, disturbs the tragic tone, and appears to me very\n    far-fetched--to savor too much of dialectical calculation. As I\n    said, I should like a philologist to show us that the passage\n    is spurious.\"\n\nIn truth this last speech of Antigone is exactly what the severer\ncritics of Euripides would have selected in a play of his for\ncondemnation. It exhibits, after all allowance for peculiar Greek\nsentiments, the rhetorical development of a sophistic thesis. In the\nsimple thought there is pathos. But its elaboration makes it frigid.\n\nSophocles, though he made the subsequent method of Euripides not only\npossible but natural by the law of progressive evolution, was very\nfar indeed from disintegrating the tragic structure as Euripides\nwas destined to do. The _deus ex machin\u00e2_ of the _Philoctetes_, for\nexample, was only employed because there was absolutely no other way\nto solve the situation. Rhetoric and wrangling matches were never\nintroduced for their own sake. The choric odes did not degenerate\ninto mere musical interludes. Description and narration in no case\ntook the place of action, by substituting pictures to the ear under\nconditions where true art required dramatic presentation. It remains\nthe everlasting glory of Sophocles that he realized the mean between\n\u00c6schylus and Euripides, sacrificing for the sake of his ideal the\npassionate and enthusiastic extremes of the older dramatist, without\nimperilling the fabric of Greek tragedy by the suicidal innovations of\nEuripides. He and he alone knew how to use all forms of art, to express\nall motives, and to hazard all varieties, with the single purpose of\nmaintaining artistic unity.\n\nWhat remains to be said about Sophocles, and in particular about\nhis delineation of character, may be introduced in the course of an\nanalysis of his tragedies upon the tale of Thebes.\n\nThese three plays do not, like the three plays of \u00c6schylus upon the\ntale of the Atrid\u00e6, form a trilogy. That is to say, they are not so\nconnected in subject as to form one continued series. A drama, for\nexample, similar to the _Seven against Thebes_ might be interpolated\nbetween the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ and _Antigone_; while the _Oedipus\nTyrannus_ might have been followed by a tragedy upon the subject of\nthe king's expulsion from Thebes. Nor, again, are they artistically\ndesigned as a trilogy. There is no change of form, suggesting the\nbeginning, middle, and ending of a calculated work of art, like that\nwhich we notice in the _Oresteia_. Moreover, the protagonist is absent\nfrom the _Antigone_, and, therefore, to call the three plays an\n_Oedipodeia_ is impossible. Finally, they were composed at different\nperiods: the _Antigone_ is the first extant tragedy of Sophocles; the\n_Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ is the last.\n\nSo much it was necessary to premise in order to avoid the imputation\nof having treated the three masterpieces of Sophocles as in any true\nsense a trilogy. The temptation to do so is at first sight almost\nirresistible; for they are written on the same legend, and the same\ncharacters are throughout sustained with firmness, proving that, though\nSophocles composed the last play of the series first and the second\nlast of all, he had conceived them in his brain before he undertook to\nwork them out in detail. Or, if this assumption seem unwarranted, we\nmay at least affirm with certainty that at some point of time anterior\nto the production of the _Antigone_ he had subjected the whole legend\nof the house of Laius to his plastic imagination, and had given it\ncoherence in his mind. In other words, it was impossible for him to\nchange his point of view about this mythus in the same way as Euripides\nwhen he handled that of Helen according to two different versions.\nIt so happens, moreover, that the climax of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_\nprepares us, by the revolution in the character of the protagonist, for\nthe _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_; while the last act of the second tragedy, by\nthe prominence given to Antigone, serves as a prelude to the third and\nfinal play.\n\nThe house of Laius was scarcely less famous among the Greeks than the\nhouse of Atreus for its overwhelming disasters, the consequences of an\nawful curse which rested on the family. Laius, the son of Labdacus, was\nsupposed to have introduced an unnatural vice into Hellas; and from\nthis first crime sprang all the subsequent disasters of his progeny.\nHe took in marriage Jocasta, the sister of Prince Creon, and swayed\nthe State of Thebes. To him an oracle was given that a son of his by\nJocasta should kill him. Yet he did not therefore, in obedience to\nthe divine warning, put away his wife or live in chastity. A boy was\nborn to the royal pair, who gave him to one of their shepherds, after\npiercing his feet and tying them together, and bound the hind to expose\nhim on Cith\u00e6ron. Thus they hoped to defeat the will of heaven. The\nshepherd, moved by pity, saved the baby's life and handed him over to\na friend of his, who used to feed his master's sheep upon the same\nhill-pastures. This man carried the infant, named Oedipus because\nof his wounded and swollen feet, to Polybus of Corinth, a childless\nking, who brought him up as his own son. Oedipus when he had grown to\nmanhood, was taunted with his obscure birth by his comrades in Corinth.\nThereupon he journeyed alone to Delphi to make inquiry concerning his\nparentage from Phoebus. Phoebus told him naught thereof, but bade him\ntake heed lest he slay his father and wed his mother. Oedipus, deeming\nthat Polybus was his father and Merope his mother, determined to\nreturn to Corinth no more. At that time Thebes was troubled with the\nvisitation of the Sphinx, and no man might rede her riddle. Oedipus,\npassing through the Theban land, was met in a narrow path, where\nthree roads joined, by an old man on a chariot attended by servants.\nThe old man spoke rudely to him, commanding him to make way for his\nhorses, and one of the servants struck him. Whereupon Oedipus slew the\nmaster, knowing not that he was his own father, Laius, and the men too,\nall but one, who fled. Thereafter he passed on to Thebes, and solved\nthat riddle of the Sphinx, and the Thebans made him their king, and\ngave him the lady Jocasta to be his wife. Thus were both the oracles\naccomplished, and yet Oedipus and Jocasta remained ignorant of their\ndoom. For many years Oedipus ruled Thebes like a great and warlike\nprince; and to him and Jocasta in wedlock were born two daughters and\ntwo sons--Antigone and Ismene, Polyneices and Eteocles. These grew to\nyouth, and a seeming calm of fair weather and prosperity abode upon\ntheir house. Yet the gods were mindful of the abomination, and in\ncourse of time a plague was sent, which ravaged the people of Thebes.\nSorely pressed by calamity, Oedipus sent his brother-in-law Creon to\ninquire at Delphi of the causes of the plague and of the means of\nstaying it. This brings us to the opening of _Oedipus the King_. At\nthis point something should be said about the mythus itself and about\nthe position of the several persons at the commencement of the tragedy.\n\nThe fable is obviously one of those which Max M\u00fcller and his school\ndescribe as solar. Oedipus, who slays his father and weds his mother,\nmay stand for the Sun, who slays the Night and is married to the Dawn.\nWe know how all legends can fall into this mould, and how easy it is to\nclap the Dawn on to the end of every Greek tale, like the #l\u00eakythion\nap\u00f4lesen# of the _Frogs_. This, however, is nothing to our purpose; for\nSophocles had never heard of solar myths. The tale of Thebes supplied\nhim with the subject of three dramas; he used it as a story well suited\nfor displaying passions in their strongest and most tragic workings.\nAs usual, he was not contented with merely following the traditional\nversion of the legend, nor did he insist upon its superstitious\nelements. That the gods had a grudge against the Labdacid\u00e6, that\nthe oracles given to Laius and Oedipus were not warnings so much as\nsinister predictions of a doom inevitable, that the very powers who\nuttered them were bent on blinding the victims of fate to their true\nimport, were thoroughly Greek notions, consistent with the divine\n#phthonos#, or envy, of Herodotus, and not wholly inconsistent with\nthe gloomy theology of \u00c6schylus. But it was no part of the method\nof Sophocles to emphasize this horrible doctrine of destiny. On the\ncontrary, he moralized it. While preserving all the essential features\nof the myth, he made it clear that the characters of men constitute\ntheir fatality.\n\nAs our own Fletcher has nobly written:\n\n    Man is his own star, and the soul, that can\n    Render an honest and a perfect man,\n    Commands all light, all influence, all fate;\n    Nothing to him falls early or too late;\n    Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,\n    Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.\n\nWhat to the vulgar apprehension appears like doom, and to the\ntheologian like the direct interposition of the Deity, is to the tragic\npoet but the natural consequence of moral, physical, and intellectual\nqualities. These it is his function to set forth in high and stately\nscenes, commingling with his psychological analysis and forcible\ndramatic presentation somewhat of the old religious awe.\n\nIt may be urged that this is only shifting the burden of necessity,\nnot removing it. It is, perhaps, impossible scientifically to avoid a\nfatalistic theory of some sort, since in one sense it is true that\n\n    A fish-wife hath a fate, and so have I--\n    But far above your finding.\n\nYet practically we do not act upon such theories, and, from the point\nof view of ethics, there is all the difference in the world between\nshowing how the faults and sins of men must lead them to fearful ends,\nand painting them in the grip of a remorseless and malignant deity.\n\nLaius was warned that his son by Jocasta would kill him. Yet he begat a\nson; and in his presumptuous disregard of heaven, thinking, forsooth,\nthat by mere barbarity a man may cheat the Omnipotent, and that the\nAll-seeing cannot save a child of prophecy and doom, he exposed this\nson upon Cith\u00e6ron. The boy lived. Thus the crime of Laius is want of\nself-restraint in the first instance, contempt of God in the second,\nand cruelty in the third. After this, Oedipus appears upon the theatre\nof events. He, too, receives oracular warning--that he will slay his\nsire and wed his mother. Yet, though well aware of the doubt which\nrests upon his own birth--for it was just on this account that he\nwent to Delphi--he is satisfied with avoiding his supposed parents.\nThe first man whom he meets, while the words of the oracle are still\nringing in his ears, he slays; the first woman who is offered to him\nin marriage, though old enough to be his mother, he weds. His crime\nis haste of temper, heat of blood, blind carelessness of the divine\ndecrees. Jocasta shows her guilty infatuation in another form. Not\nonly does she participate in the first sin of Laius, but she forgets\nthe oracle which announced that Laius should be slain by his own\nson. She makes no inquiry into the causes of his death. She does not\ninvestigate the previous history of Oedipus, or observe the marks upon\nhis feet, but weds him heedlessly. Here, indeed, the legend itself\ninvolves monstrous improbabilities--as, for instance, that Jocasta,\nwhile a widow of a few days, should have been thus wedded to a stranger\nyoung enough to be her son, that the Thebans should have made no\nstrict search for the murderer of their king, that Oedipus himself\nshould have heard nothing about the death and funeral of Laius, but\nshould have stepped incuriously into his place and sat upon his throne\nwithout asking further questions either of his wife or of his subjects.\nPrevious to the opening of _Oedipus the King_, there is, therefore,\na whole tissue of absurdities; and to these Aristotle is probably\nreferring when he says: #alogon de m\u00eaden einai en tois pragmasin, ei de\nm\u00ea, ex\u00f4 t\u00eas trag\u00f4idias, hoion ta en t\u00f4i Oidipodi t\u00f4i Sophokleous#.\n\nGranting this, the vigorous logic wherewith the conclusions are wrought\nout by Sophocles leaves nothing to be desired on the score of truth to\nnature. There is, indeed, no work of tragic art which can be compared\nwith the _Oedipus_ for the closeness and consistency of the plot. To\nuse the critical terms of the _Poetics_, it would rank first among\ntragedies for its #mythos# and for the #systasis pragmat\u00f4n#, even were\nits #\u00eath\u00ea# far less firmly traced. The triumph of Sophocles has been,\nhowever, so to connect the #\u00eath\u00ea# of his persons with the #pragmata#,\ncharacters with plot, as to make the latter depend upon the former; and\nin this kind of ethical causality lies the chief force of his tragic\nart.\n\nIf questioned concerning the situation of events previous to the play\nof _Oedipus_, it is possible that Sophocles would have pointed out that\nthe #hamartia#, or error common to all the _dramatis person\u00e6_, was an\nunwarrantable self-confidence. One and all they consult the oracle,\nand then are satisfied with taking the affairs they had referred to\nPhoebus into their own hands. Unlike the Orestes of \u00c6schylus, they\ndo not endeavor to act up to the divine commands, and, having done\nso, place themselves once more beneath the guidance of the god. The\noracle is all-important in the three plays on the tale of Thebes, and\nSophocles seems to have intended to inculcate a special lesson with\nregard to the submission of the human will. Those who inquire of a god,\nand who attempt to thwart his decrees by human skill and foresight,\nwill not prosper. The apparent success of their shifty schemes may\ncause them to exclaim: \"The oracle was false; how weak are those who\nlook for its accomplishment!\" Thus they are lured by their self-conceit\ninto impiety. In the end, too, the oracle is found to be fearfully\nexact. Those, therefore, who take the step of consulting Phoebus must\nhold themselves responsible to him, must expect the fulfilment of his\nprophecy; or if they seek to avert the promised evils, they must, at\nall events, not do so by criminal contrivances and petty lawlessness,\nsuch as man thinks that he may practise upon man. It was thus that\nSophocles conceived of the relation of human beings to the deity. He\ndelights in exhibiting the blindness of arrogance and self-confidence,\nand in showing that characters determined by these qualities rush\nrecklessly to their own doom. At the same time he draws a clear\ndistinction between the man who is hardened in godless folly and one\nwho errs through simple haste. The impiety of Jocasta ends in suicide.\nOedipus, who has been impetuous and self-willed, finds a place for\nrepentance, and survives his worst calamities, to die a god-protected\nand god-honored hero.\n\nThe opening scene of the _Oedipus_ serves a double purpose. While\nit places the spectators at the exact point in the legend selected\nby the poet for treatment, it impresses them with the greatness and\nthe majesty of the king. Thebes is worn out with plague. The hand of\nHeaven lies heavily upon the citizens. Therefore the priest of Zeus\napproaches the hero who once before had saved them from the Sphinx,\nand who may now--fit representative of God on earth--find out a\nremedy for this intolerable evil. Oedipus appears upon the stage, a\nconfident and careful ruler, sublime in the strength of manhood and\nthe consciousness of vast capacity, tender for the afflictions of his\npeople, yet undismayed by their calamity. He is just the man to sustain\na commonwealth by his firm character and favoring fortune. Flawless\nin force of will and singleness of purpose, he seems incapable of\nfailure. To connect the notions of disgrace or guilt or shame with such\na king is utterly impossible. Yet, even so, Sophocles has hinted in the\nspeech of Oedipus a something overmuch of confidence and courage:\n\n                                  Well I know\n    That ye all suffer, yet, thus suffering, I\n    More than you all in overmeasure suffer:\n    For that which wounds you strikes at each man singly,\n    At each and not another; while my soul\n    For Thebes, for me, for you, feels one huge sorrow.\n\nEven here the irony, for which the play is famous, begins to transpire.\nOedipus believes that his grief is sympathy for a vexed people\ncommitted to his charge. Little does he know that, while he is pluming\nhimself upon his watchful care for others, he himself is the head and\nfront of all offending. In the word #kame#, almost negligently uttered,\nlies the kernel of the future revelation. While he is informing the\nsuppliants that Creon has gone to Delphi for advice, the prince\narrives. A garland of good augury is on his brow; and in this sign\nof an auspicious embassy we discern another stroke of tragic irony.\nPhoebus has declared that the presence in Thebes of the hitherto\nunpunished, unregarded murderer of Laius is the cause of the plague.\nOedipus, when he fully understands the matter, swears to discover\nthe offender. The curse which he pronounces on this guilty man is\nterrible--terrible in its energy of interdiction and excommunication\nfrom all rites of hospitality, from human sympathy, from earth and air\nand water and the fruits of the field--but still more terrible through\nthe fact that all these maledictions are uttered on his own head. The\nirony of the situation--if we are justified in giving this word to the\ncontrast between what seems and what really is--between Oedipus as he\nappears to the burghers and Oedipus as he is known to us--rises in\nthe emphatic eloquence of his denunciation to a truly awful height.\nAt the same time his obvious sincerity enlists our sympathy upon his\nside. We feel beforehand that the man who speaks thus will, when his\neyes are opened, submit to his self-imprecated doom. It now remains\nto detect the murderer. Thinking that his faculty of divination may\nbe useful, Oedipus has already sent for the blind seer Teiresias.\nTeiresias is one of the great creations of Sophocles. Twice he appears,\nonce in this play, once in the _Antigone_, each time in conflict with\ninfatuated kings. He is so aged, and the soul within him is so fixed on\nthings invisible, that he seems scarcely human. We think of him as of\none who dwells apart, not communing in ordinary social ways with men,\nbut listening to the unspoken words of God, and uttering his wisdom\nin dark parable to those who heed him not. The Greek poets frequently\nexhibited the indifference of prosperous persons to divine monitions.\nCassandra's prophecies were not attended to; the Delphic oracle spoke\nin vain; and Teiresias is only honored when it is too late. Sophocles,\nwhile maintaining the mysterious fascination of the soothsayer, has\nmarked his character by some strong touches of humanity. He is proud\nand irritable to excess. His power of sarcasm is appalling, and his\nindignation is inexorable. Between two stubborn and unyielding natures\nlike the seer and king sparks of anger could not fail to be struck; the\nexplosion that follows on their meeting serves to display the choleric\ntemper of Oedipus, which formed the main trait of his character, the\npith of his #hamartia#.\n\nOedipus greets Teiresias courteously, telling him that he, the king, is\ndoing all he can to find the murderer of Laius, and that the soothsayer\nmust spare no pains. To this generous patronage and protective welcome\nTeiresias, upon whose sightless soul the truth has suddenly flashed,\nanswers with deep sighs, and requests to be led home again. This\nnaturally nettles Oedipus. The hastiness that drew him into his first\nfault renders him now ungovernable. Teiresias keeps saying it will be\nbetter for the king to remain ignorant, and the king retorts that he\nis only a blind dotard; were he not blind, he, and no other, might be\nsuspected of the murder. This provokes an oracular response:\n\n    Ay! Is it so? I bid thee, then, abide\n    By thy first ordinance, and from this day\n    Join not in converse with these men or me,\n    Being thyself this land's impure defiler.\n\nThus the real state of affairs is suddenly disclosed; and were Oedipus\nof a submissive temper, he would immediately have proceeded to the\ndiscovery of the truth. This would, however, have destroyed the drama,\nand have prevented the unfolding of the character of the king. Instead,\ntherefore, of heeding the seer's words, Oedipus rushes at once to the\nconclusion that Creon and Teiresias are plotting to overthrow him in\nhis tyranny. The quarrel waxes hot. Each word uttered by Teiresias\nis pregnant with terrific revelation. The whole context of events,\npast, present, and future, is painted with intense lucidity in speech\nthat has the trenchant force of oracular conviction; yet Oedipus\nremains so firmly rooted in his own integrity and in the belief which\nhe has suddenly assumed of Creon's treason, that he turns deaf ears\nand a blind soul to the truth. At last the seer leaves him with this\ndenunciation:\n\n    \"I tell thee this: the man whom thou so long\n    Seekest with threats and mandates for the murder\n    Of Laius, that very man is here,\n    By name an alien, but in season due\n    He shall be shown true Theban, and small joy\n    Shall have therein; for, blind, instead of seeing,\n    And poor, who once was rich, he shall go forth,\n    Staff-guided, groping, o'er a foreign land.\n    He shall be shown to be with his own children\n    Brother and sire in one, of her who bore him\n    Husband at once and offspring, of his father\n    Bedmate and murderer. Go; take now these words\n    Within, and weigh them; if thou find me false,\n    Say then that divination taught me nothing.\"\n\nThe next scene is one of altercation between Oedipus and Creon.\nOedipus, full of rage, still haunted by the suspicion of treason,\nyet stung to the quick by some of the dark speeches of the prophet,\nvehemently assails the prince, and condemns him to exile. Creon--who,\nof course, is innocent, but who is not meant to have a generous or\nlofty soul--defends himself in a dry and argumentative manner, until\nJocasta comes forth from the palace and seeks to quell their conflict.\nOedipus tells her haughtily that he is accused of being the murderer\nof Laius. She begins her answer with a frivolous and impious assertion\nthat all oracles are nonsense. The oracle uttered against Laius came\nto nothing, for his son died on Mount Cith\u00e6ron, and robbers slew him\nnear Thebes long afterwards, where three ways meet. These words, #en\ntriplais hamaxitois#, stir suspicion in the mind of Oedipus. He asks\nat once: \"Where was the spot?\" \"In Phokis, where one goes to Delphi\nand to Daulia.\" \"What was Laius like?\" \"Not unlike you in shape,\" says\nJocasta, \"but white-haired.\" \"Who were with him?\" \"Five men, and he\nrode a chariot.\" \"Who told you all this?\" \"One who escaped, and who\nbegged me afterwards to send him from the palace, and who now keeps\na farm of ours in the country.\" Each answer adds to the certainty in\nthe mind of Oedipus that it was Laius whom he slew. The only hope left\nis to send for the servant, and to find out whether he adheres to his\nstory of there having been more robbers than one. If he remains firm\nupon this point, and does not confess that it was one solitary man who\nslew his master and his comrades, then there is a chance that he, the\nking, may not be guilty. Jocasta, with her usual levity, comforts him\nby insisting that he spoke of robbers, in the plural, and that he must\nnot be suffered to retract his words.\n\nWhile they are waiting for the servant, a messenger arrives from\nCorinth with good news. Polybus, the king, is dead, and Oedipus is\nproclaimed his successor. \"Where now,\" shouts impious Jocasta, \"are\nyour oracles--that you should slay your father? See you not how foolish\nit is to trust to Phoebus and to auguries of birds? Chance is the lord\nof all. Let us, therefore, live our lives as best we can.\" Awful is the\nirony of these short-sighted jubilations; and awful, as Aristotle has\npointed out,[140] is the irony which makes this messenger of apparently\ngood tidings add the last link to the chain of evidence that will\noverwhelm Oedipus with ruin. Oedipus exclaims: \"Though my father is\ndead, I may not return to Corinth: Merope still lives.\" \"What,\" says\nthe messenger, \"do you fear her because she is your mother? Set your\nmind at ease. She is no mother of yours, nor was Polybus your father.\nI gave you to them as a gift, when you were yet an infant.\" \"Where did\nyou find me?\" cries the king. \"Upon Cith\u00e6ron, a shepherd of the house\nof Laius gave you to me; your feet were pierced, and I believe that you\nwere born in the royal household.\" Terrible word, Cith\u00e6ron! It echoes\nthrough this tragedy with horror--its scaurs and pastures, the scene\nof the first crime. And now those two hinds, who had met there once,\napparently by chance, with the child of doom between them, are being\nagain, as though by chance, brought face to face, with the man of doom\nbetween them, in order to make good the words of Teiresias:\n\n    #bo\u00eas de t\u00eas s\u00eas poios ouk estai lim\u00ean,\n    poios Kithair\u00f4n ouchi symph\u00f4nos tacha?#\n\nJocasta is struck dumb by the answers of the messenger. She, and she\nalone, knows now at last the whole truth; but she does not speak, while\nOedipus continues asking who the shepherd of the house of Laius was.\nThen she utters words of fearful import, praying the king to go no\nfarther, nor to seek what, found, will plunge his soul into despair\nlike hers. After this, finding her suit ineffectual, she retires into\nthe palace. The chorus are struck by the wildness of her gestures,\nand hint their dread that she is going to her doom of suicide. But\nOedipus, not yet fully enlightened, and preoccupied with the problem\nwhich interests himself so deeply, only imagines that she shrinks from\nthe possible proof of his base birth. As yet, he does not suspect that\nhe is the own son of Laius; and here, it may be said in passing, the\nsole weakness of the plot transpires. Neither the oracle first given\nto him at Delphi, nor the plain speech of Teiresias, nor the news of\nthe Corinthian messenger, nor the pleadings of Jocasta, are sufficient\nto suggest the real truth to his mind. Such profundity of blindness\nis dramatically improbable. He is, however, soon destined to receive\nillumination. The servant of Laius, who gave Jocasta intelligence of\nthe manner of her husband's death, is now brought upon the stage; and\nin him the Corinthian messenger recognizes the same shepherd who had\ngiven him the infant on Cith\u00e6ron. Though reluctant to confess the\ntruth so long concealed, the shepherd is at last forced to reveal\nall he knows; and in this supreme moment Oedipus discovers that he\nis not only the murderer of his own father, but also that Jocasta\nis his mother. In the madness of this revelation he rushes to the\npalace. The chorus are left alone to moralize upon these terrible\nevents. Then another messenger arrives. Jocasta has hanged herself\nwithin her bedchamber. Oedipus, breaking bars and bolts in the fire\nof his despair, has followed her. Around him were the servants, drawn\ntogether by the tumult. None, however, dared approach him. Led by an\ninner impulse, he found the place where his wife and mother hung,\nreleased the corpse, and tearing from her dress the golden buckles,\ncut out both his eyes, crying aloud that no longer should they look\nupon the light or be witness to his woe, seeing that when they might\nhave aided him they were as good as blind. Thus one day turned the\nprosperity of Oedipus to \"wailing, woe, death, disgrace, all evils that\nhave name--not one is absent.\" The speech of the messenger narrating\nthese events is a splendid instance of the energy of Sophocles, when he\nchooses to describe a terrible event appallingly. It does not convey\nthe \u00c6schylean mystery of brooding horror; but the scene is realized in\nall its incidents, briefly, vividly, with ghastly clearness. Meanwhile,\nthe voice of Oedipus himself is heard. He bids the palace-doors be\nopened, in order that all Thebes may see the parricide, the monster\nof unhallowed, indescribable abominations. So the gates are rolled\nasunder: and there lies dead Jocasta; and sightless Oedipus, with\nbloody cheeks and beard, stands over her, and the halls are filled with\nwailing women and woe-stricken men.\n\nHere, if this had been a modern tragedy, the play of _Oedipus Tyrannus_\nmight have ended; but so abrupt and scenical a conclusion did not suit\nthe art of Sophocles. He had still further to develop the character\nof Oedipus, and to offer the prospect of that future reconciliation\nbetween the fate and the passions of his hero which he had in store.\nFor this purpose the last two hundred lines of the drama, though they\ndo not continue the plot, but rather suggest a new and secondary\nsubject of interest, are invaluable. Hitherto we have seen Oedipus\nin the pride of monarchy and manhood, hasty, arrogant, yet withal a\njust and able ruler. He is now, through a #peripeteia#, or revolution\nof circumstances, more complete than any other in Greek tragedy,\nrevealed in the very depth of his calamity, still dignified. There is\nno resistance left in the once so strong and stubborn man. The hand\nof God, weighing heavily upon him, has bowed his head, and he is\nhumble as a little child. Yet the vehemence that marked his former\nphase persists. It finds vent in the passionate lucidity wherewith he\nexamines all the details of the pollution he has unwittingly incurred,\nand in the rage with which he demands to have his own curse carried out\nagainst him. Let him be cast from the city, sent forth to wander on\nthe fells of Cith\u00e6ron--#houmos Kithair\u00f4n houtos#. It was the highest\nachievement of tragic art to exhibit so suddenly, and by so sharp a\ntransition, this new development of the king's nature. Saul of Tarsus,\nwhen blinded by the vision, was not more immediately converted from\none mood into another, more contrite in profound sincerity of sorrow.\nStill in the altered Oedipus we see the same man, the same temperament;\nthough all internal and external circumstances have been changed, so\nthat henceforward he will never tread the paths of life as once he\ndid. The completeness of his self-abandonment appears most vividly in\nthe dialogue with Creon, upon whose will his immediate fate depends.\nWhen Creon, whom he had lately misjudged and treated with violent\nharshness, comes and greets him kindly, the wretched king tastes the\nvery bitterness of degradation, yet he is not abject. He only prays\nonce more, with intensest urgency of pleading, to have the uttermost\nof the excommunication he had vowed, executed upon his head. Thinking\nless of himself than of the miserable beings associated with him in\ndisaster, he beseeches Creon to inter the queen, and, for his boys, to\ngive them only a fair chance in life--they will be men, and may carve\nout their own fortunes in the world; but for his two poor girls, left\ndesolate, a scorn and mockery to all men, he can only pray that they\nmay come to him, be near him, bear the burden of their misery by their\nfather's side. The tenderness of Oedipus for Ismene and Antigone, his\nyearning to clasp them, is terribly--almost painfully--touching, when\nwe remember who they were, how born, the children of what curses. The\nwords with which the king addresses them are even hazardous in their\ndirectness. Yet it was needful that humanity should by some such strain\nof passion be made to emerge from this tempest of soul-shattering woes;\nand thus, too, a glimpse of that future is provided which remained for\nOedipus, if sorrowful, assuaged at least by filial love. In reply to\nall his eloquent supplications Creon answers that he will not take upon\nhimself the responsibility of dealing with his case. Nothing can be\ndone without consulting the oracle at Delphi. Oedipus has, therefore,\nto be patient and endure. The strong hero, who saved Thebes from the\nSphinx and swayed the city, is now in the hands of tutors and governors\nawaiting his doom. He submits quietly, and the tragedy is ended.\n\nThe effect of such a tragedy as _Oedipus the King_ is to make men feel\nthat the earth is shaken underneath them, and that the heavens above\nare big with thunder. Compassion and fear are agitated in the highest\ndegree; old landmarks seem to vanish; the mightiest have fallen, and\nthe most impious, convinced of God, have been goaded to self-murder.\nGreat, indeed, is the tragic poet's genius who can make the one sure\npoint amid this confusion the firmness of its principal fore-destined\nvictim. That is the triumph of Sophocles. Out of the chaos of the\n_Oedipus Tyrannus_ springs the new order of the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_; and\nhere it may be said that perhaps the most valid argument in favor of\nthe \u00c6schylean trilogy as a supreme work of dramatic art is this--that\nsuch a tragedy as the first Oedipus demanded such another as the\nsecond. The new motives suggested in the last act were not sufficiently\nworked out to their conclusion; much that happened in the climax of the\n_Tyrannus_ seemed to necessitate the _Colone\u00fcs_.\n\nThe interest of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_ centres in its plot, and that\nis my only excuse for having dwelt so long on the structure of a\nplay familiar to every student. That of the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ is\ndifferent. It has, roughly speaking, no plot. It owes its perfect,\nalmost superhuman, beauty to the atmosphere which bathes it, as with\npeace after tempest, with the lucid splendors of sunset succeeding\nto a storm-vexed and tumultuous day. The scene is laid, as the name\nindicates, in the village birthplace of the poet. Years are supposed\nto have elapsed since the conclusion of the former tragedy; Oedipus,\nafter being detained in Thebes against his will at first, has now\nbeen driven forth by Creon, and has wandered many miles in blindness,\nled by his daughter's hand. The ethical interest of the play, so\nfar as it is not absorbed by Oedipus himself, centres principally\nin Antigone, whereby we are prepared for her emergence into fullest\nprominence in the tragedy which bears her name. Always keeping in mind\nthat these three plays are not a trilogy, I cannot but insist again\nthat much is lost, especially in all that concerns the unfolding of\nAntigone's character, by not reading them in the order suggested by the\nfable. At the same time, though Antigone engrosses our sympathy and\nattention, Sophocles has varied the drama by a more than usual number\nof persons. The generous energy of Theseus forms a fine contrast to\nthe inactivity forced upon Oedipus by the conditions of the subject,\nand also to the meanness of Creon; while the episodes of Ismene's\narrival, of Antigone's abduction, and of the visit of Polyneices, add\nmovement to what might else have been too stationary. It should also\nbe said that all these subsidiary sources of interest are used with\nsubtle art by Sophocles for enhancing the dignity of Oedipus, for\narousing our sympathy with him, and for bringing into prominence the\nchief features of his character. None can, therefore, be regarded as\nsuperfluous, though, strictly speaking, they might have been detached\nwithout absolute destruction of the drama, which is more than can be\nsaid about the slightest incidents of _Oedipus Tyrannus_. As regards\nOedipus himself, that modification of his fiery temperament which\nSophocles revealed at the end of the first tragedy has now become\npermanent. He is schooled into submission; yet he has not lost the old\nimpetuosity that formed the groundwork of his nature. He is still quick\nto anger and vehement in speech, but both his anger and his vehemence\nare justified by the occasion. Something, moreover, of fateful and\nmysterious, severing him from the common race of men and shrouding him\nwithin the seclusion of his dread calamity, has been added. The terror\nof his dreadful past, and the prospect of his august future, environ\nhim with more than kingly dignity. The skill of Sophocles as a dramatic\npoet is displayed in all its splendor by the new light thrown upon the\ncentral figure of Oedipus. The effect of unity is not destroyed: those\npainful shocks to our sense of probability so frequent when inferior\ndramatists--poets of the rank of Fletcher or of Jonson--attempt\nto depict a nature altered by internal reformation or by force of\ncircumstance do not occur. The Oedipus of both the tragedies remains\none man; we understand the change that has been wrought in him; and\nwhile we feel that it is adequate and natural, we marvel at the wisdom\nof the poet who could vary his design with so much firmness.\n\nThe oracle, which continues to play an important part in this tale\nof Thebes, has warned Oedipus that he will end his days within the\nprecincts of the Semnai Theai, or august goddesses of retribution.\nIn his new phase the man of haste and wrath is no longer heedless of\noracles; nor does he let their words lie idle in his mind. It is,\ntherefore, with a strong presentiment of approaching death that he\ndiscovers early in this play that his feet, led by Antigone, have\nrested in the grove of the Furies at Colonus. The place itself is\nfair. There are here no harpy-gorgons with bloodshot eyes, and vipers\ntwining in their matted hair. The meadows are dewy, with crocus-flowers\nand narcissus; in the thickets of olive and laurel nightingales keep\nsinging; and rivulets spread coolness in the midst of summer's heat.\nThe whole wood is hushed, and very fresh and wild. A solemn stillness\nbroods there; for the feet of the profane keep far away, and none may\ntread the valley-lawns but those who have been purified. The ransomed\nof the Lord walk there. This solemnity of peace pervades the whole\nplay, forming, to borrow a phrase from painting, the silver-gray\nharmony of the picture. In thus bringing Oedipus to die among the\nunshowered meadows of those Dread Ladies, whom in his troubled life he\nfound so terrible, but whom in his sublime passage from the world he\nis about to greet resignedly, we may trace peculiar depth of meaning.\nThe thought of death, calm but austere, tempers every scene in the\ndrama. We are in the presence of one whose life is ended, who is about\nto merge the fever of existence in the tranquillity beyond. This\nimpression of solemnity is heightened when we remember that the poet\nwrote the _Colone\u00fcs_ in extreme old age. Over him, too, the genius\nof everlasting repose already spread wings in the twilight, and the\nmysteries of the grave were nearer to him and more daily present than\nto other men.\n\nA country fellow, who perceives Oedipus seated by his daughter on a\nmarble bench within the sacred precinct, bids them quit the spot,\nfor it is hallowed. Oedipus, however, knowing that his doom shall be\nfulfilled, asks that he may be confronted with the elders of the place.\nThey come and gaze with mingled feelings of distrust and awe on the\nblind hero, august in desolation. Before they can converse with him,\nOedipus has to quit the recesses of the grove, and gain a spot where\nspeech and traffic are permitted. Then, in answer to their questions,\nhe informs them who he is--Oedipus. At that name they start back in\nhorror, demanding that he shall carry the abomination of his presence\nfrom their land. This affords the occasion for a splendid speech\nfrom the old man, one of the most telling passages of eloquence in\nSophocles, in which he appeals to the time-long hospitality and fame\nfor generosity of Athens. Athens was never known to spurn the suppliant\nor expel the stranger, and the deeds of Oedipus they so much dread are\nsufferings rather:\n\n          #epei ta g' erga mou\n    peponthot' esti mallon \u00ea dedrakota.#\n\nThe Chorus, moved by the mingled impetuosity and sound reasoning of\ntheir suitor, perceive that the case is too grave for them to decide.\nAccordingly, they send a messenger for Theseus; but, before he can be\nsummoned, Ismene arrives on horseback with the news that her brothers\nare quarrelling about the throne of Thebes. Eteocles, the younger, has\nusurped the sovereignty, while Polyneices has fled to Argos to engage\nthe chiefs of the Achaians in his cause. Both parties, meantime, are\neager to secure the person of Oedipus, since an oracle has proclaimed\nthat with him will victory abide. Oedipus, hearing these tidings,\nbursts into a strain of passionate denunciation, which proves that\nthe old fire of his temper is smouldering still unquenched. When he\nwas forlorn and in misery, his unnatural sons took no thought of him.\nThey sent him forth to roam a pariah upon the earth, leaving to his\ndaughters the care and burden of supporting him. Now, basely anxious\nfor their selfish profit, they come to claim possession of his old,\nworld-wearied flesh. Instead of blessings, they shall meet with curses.\nInstead of the fair land of Thebes to lord it over, they shall barely\nget enough ground to die and be buried in. He, meanwhile, will abide at\nAthens, and bequeath a heritage of help and honor to her soil.\n\nThe Chorus now call upon Oedipus to perform the rites of purification\nrequired by the Eumenides--rites which Sophocles has described with\nthe loving minuteness of one to whom the customs of Colonus were from\nboyhood sacred. Ismene goes to carry out their instructions, and in her\nabsence Theseus arrives upon the scene. Theseus, throughout the drama,\nplays towards Oedipus the part of a good-hearted hospitable friend. His\ngenerosity is ethically contrasted with the meanness of Creon and the\nselfishness of Polyneices, while, artistically, the practical energy\nof his character serves for a foil to the stationary dignity of the\nchief actor. Sophocles has thus contrived to give weight and importance\nto a personage who might, in weaker hands, have been degraded into a\nmere instrument. Oedipus assures the Attic king that he will prove no\nuseless and unserviceable denizen. The children of Erechtheus, whose\ninterests rank first in the mind of Theseus, will find him in the\nfuture a powerful and god-protected sojourner within their borders.\nHis natural sympathy for the persecuted and oppressed having been thus\nstrengthened by the prospect of reciprocal advantage, Theseus formally\naccepts Oedipus as a suppliant, and promises him full protection. At\nthis point, forming, as it were, a halting-place in the action of the\nplay, Sophocles introduced that famous song about Colonus, which no\none has yet succeeded in translating, but which, for modern ears, has\nreceived new value from the music of Mendelssohn.\n\nWhat follows, before the final climax of the drama, consists of the\nefforts made by Creon, on the part of Eteocles, and by Polyneices, to\nenlist Oedipus respectively upon their sides in the war of succession\nto the Theban throne. Creon displays his heartless, cunning, impudent,\nsophistical, and forceful character, while Oedipus opposes indignation\nand contempt, unmasking his hypocrisy, and stripping his specious\narguments of all that hides their naked selfishness. In this scene we\nfeel that Sophocles is verging upon the Euripidean manner. A little\nmore would make the altercation between Creon and Oedipus pass over\ninto a forensic wrangling-match. As it is, the chief dramatic value\nof the episode is to exhibit the grandeur of the wrath of Oedipus in\nits righteous heat when contrasted with the wretched shifts of a mere\nrhetorical sophist.\n\nAfter Creon, by the help of Theseus, has been thwarted in his\nattempt to carry off Antigone, Polyneices approaches with crocodile\ntears, fawning intercessions, and fictitious sorrow for his father's\ndesolation. Oedipus flashes upon his covert egotism the same light of\nclear unclouded insight which had unmasked Creon. \"What,\" he asks,\n\"is the value of tears now, of prayers now? Dry were your eyes, hard\nas stone your heart, dumb your lips, when I went forth from Thebes\nunfriended. Here is your guerdon: Before Thebes's walls you shall\ndie, pierced by your brother's hand, and your brother by yours.\" The\nimprecation of the father upon the son would be unnatural, were it\nnot for the son's falseness, who behaved like a Regan to Oedipus in\nhis calamity, and who now, when the old man has become a mysteriously\nimportant personage, seeks to make the most of him for his own uses.\n\nThe protracted dialogues with Creon and Polyneices serve to enhance\nthe sublimity of Oedipus. He, all the while, is seated, a blind,\ntravel-stained, neglected mendicant, upon the marble bench of the\nEumenides. There is horror in his very aspect. Hellas rings with the\nabominations connected with his name. Yet, to this poor pariah, to this\napparent object of pity and loathing, come princes and warriors capable\nof stirring all the States of Greece in conflict. He rejects them,\nfirm in his consciousness of heaven-appointed destiny. Sophocles seems\nbent on showing how the wrath of God may be turned aside from its most\nsignal and notorious victims by real purity of heart and nobleness of\nsoul; how, from the depths of degradation and affliction, the spirit\nof man may rise; and how the lot of demigods may be reserved for those\nwhom the world ignorantly judges worthy of its scorn. Oedipus of\nlate stood like the lightning-blasted tree that travellers dread--the\n_evitandum bidental_ of Roman superstition. His withered limbs have now\nmore health and healing in them than the leaf-embowered forest oak.\n\nThe treatment of Polyneices in the _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ supplies a good\nexample of the Sophoclean tendency to humanize the ancient myths of\nHellas. The curse pronounced by Oedipus formed an integral element\nof that portion of the legend which suggested to \u00c6schylus the _Seven\nagainst Thebes_. By its force, the whole weight of the doom that\noverhangs the house of Laius is brought to bear upon the suicidal\nbrethren, both of whom rush helplessly, with eyes open, to meet\ninevitable fate.\n\n    #\u00f4 Zeu te kai G\u00ea kai polissouchoi theoi,\n    Ara t' Erinys patros h\u00ea megasthen\u00eas#\n\nare the opening words of the prayer of Eteocles in that tragedy; while\nphrases like these, #\u00f4 ponoi dom\u00f4n neoi palaioisi symmigeis kakois# and\n#\u00f4 melaina kai teleia geneos Oidipou t' ara#, form the burden of the\nchoric songs. Sophocles does not seek to make the wrath of Oedipus less\nterrible; he adheres to the old outline of the story, and heightens the\ntragic horror of the curse by framing for it words intense by reason of\ntheir very calculated calmness (1383-1396). At the same time he shows\nhow the obstinate temper of Polyneices, and his sense of honor, are\nnecessary to its operation. After the dreadful sentence, dooming him\nto self-murder by his brother's spear, has been pronounced, Polyneices\nstands before his father and his sister like one stunned. Antigone,\nwith a woman's instinct, entreats him to choose the only way still\nleft of safety. He may disband the army, and retire from the adventure\nagainst Thebes. To this her brother answers:\n\n    #all' ouch hoion te. p\u00f4s gar authis an palin\n    strateum' agoimi tauton eisapax tresas?#\n\nwhen she persists, he repeats #m\u00ea peith' ha m\u00ea dei#. Thus, instead of\nbringing into strong relief the operation of blind fate, Sophocles\nplaces in the foreground the human agencies which contribute to the\nundoing of Polyneices. His crime of unfilial egotism, his dread of\nbeing thought a coward, and his honor rooted in dishonor, drive him\nthrough the tempest of his father's curse upon the rock of doom. The\npart played by Antigone in this awful scene of altercation between her\nfather and her brother, first interceding for mercy, and then striving\nto break the stubborn will of the rebellious youth,[141] prepares our\nminds for the tragedy in which she will appear as protagonist. Hitherto\nshe has been remarkable for filial love. She now shows herself a gentle\nand tender sister to one who had deeply wronged her. The absolute\nunselfishness which gives to her the beauty as of some clear, flawless\njewel shines forth by anticipation in the _Colone\u00fcs_, enlisting our\nwarmest sympathies upon her side, and tempering the impression of\nhardness that might be produced by a simple study of the _Antigone_.\n\nWhen Polyneices, with the curse still ringing in his ears, has fled\nforth, Cain-like, from the presence of his father, thunder is heard,\nand the end approaches. The chief actors, led by the blind hero, move\nfrom the stage in order suited to the processional gravity of the Greek\ntheatre, while the speech of the Messenger, conveying to the Chorus\nthe news of the last minutes in the life of Oedipus, prepares the\nspectators for the reappearance of his daughters on the scene. As in\nthe _Oedipus Tyrannus_, so now a new motive of interest is introduced\nin the last act of the drama. The _Antigone_ is imperatively demanded\nas a sequel. Our attention is riveted upon Antigone, who in losing\nher father has lost all. Her first thought is that he died nobly,\npeacefully, at one with God. Her next thought is that she shall never\nsee him again, never more bear the sweet burden of anxiety and pain\nfor him, never even have access to his hidden tomb. Her third thought\nis a longing to be dead with him, enfolded in oblivion of the fate\nwhich persecutes her kith and kin. Life stretches before her boundless,\nhomeless, comfortless, nor has she now a single memory for him whose\nlove might have consoled a woman of less stubborn soul--for H\u00e6mon. It\nis characteristic of his whole conception of Antigone that Sophocles\nintroduced no allusion to that underplot of love at this point. When\nTheseus reproves her for despair, she awakes to fresh unselfishness:\n\"Send me to Thebes,\" she cries, \"that I may stay, if possible, my\nbrothers' strife.\" Throughout this final scene the single-hearted heat\nand firm will of Antigone, her desire for action, and her readiness to\naccept responsibility are contrasted with Ismene's yielding temper and\npassivity. We are thus prepared for the opening of the third drama,\nwhich, though written first by Sophocles, is the artistic close and\nclimax of the tale of Thebes.\n\nThe most perfect female character in Greek poetry is Antigone. She is\npurely Greek, unlike any woman of modern fiction, except perhaps the\nFedalma of George Eliot. In her filial piety, in her intercession for\nPolyneices at the knees of Oedipus, in her grief when her father is\ntaken from her, she does, indeed, resemble the women whom most men\namong us have learned to honor in their sisters or their daughters or\ntheir mother. Of such women the Greek maiden, with her pure calm face\nand virginal straight lines of classic drapery, is still the saint and\npatroness. But what shall we say of the Antigone of this last drama, of\nthe sister who is willing, lest her brother lie unburied on the Theban\nplain, to lay her own life down, disobeying the law of her sovereign,\ndefying Creon to the face, appealing against unjust tribunals to the\njudgment-seat of powers more ancient than the throne of Zeus himself,\nand marching to her living tomb with dauntless strength in order that\nthe curse-attainted ghost of Polyneices shall have rest in Hades? To\nthe modern mind she appears a being from another sphere. A strain of\nunearthly music seems to announce her entrance and her exit on the\nstage. That the sacrifice of the sister's very life, the breaking\nof her plighted troth to H\u00e6mon, should follow upon the sprinkling\nof those few handfuls of dust--that she should give that life up\nsmilingly, nor ever in her last hours breathe her lover's name--is a\ntragic circumstance for which our sympathies are not prepared: we can\nneither divest our minds of the fixed modern prejudice that the first\nduty of a woman is to her husband, nor can we fully enter into the\nantique superstition of defrauded sepulture. Yet it is necessary to do\nboth of these things, to sequester Antigone from the sphere of modern\nobligations, and to enter hand in hand with her the inner sanctuary of\nantique piety, in order to do justice to the conception of Sophocles.\nThis effort of the imagination may be facilitated by remembering,\nfirst, that Antigone inherited her father's proud self-will--\n\n    #d\u00ealoi to genn\u00eam' \u00f4mon ex \u00f4mou patros\n    t\u00eas paidos; eikein d' ouk epistatai kakois#--\n\nand, secondly, that disaster after disaster, the loss of Oedipus,\nthe death of her two brothers, has come huddling upon her in a storm\nof fate, so that life is, in a manner, over for her, and she feels\nisolated in a cold and cruel world. This combination of her character\nand her circumstances renders her action in the _Antigone_ conceivable.\nWithout the hardness she inherited from Oedipus, she could not have\ngone through her tragic part. Without the vow she registered above her\nfather's grave, to bring help to her brethren, seeing that they alone\nwere left, the sentiment of her last speech would sound rhetorical.\nMoreover, the poet who breathed into her form a breath of life so\nfiery has himself justified us in regarding her act as one removed\nfrom the plain path of virtue. Antigone was no Hindoo widow to die\nupon a husband's pyre. Her heroism, her resistance offered to the will\nof Creon, had in it a splendid criminality. It was just the casuistry\nof the conflict between public and private obligations, between the\ndictates of her conscience and the commands of her sovereign, that\nenabled Sophocles to render the peculiar stoicism of her character\npathetic. In spite of all these considerations, it is probable that she\nwill strike a modern reader at the first as frigid. Especially, if he\nhave failed to observe the _nuances_ of her portrait in the _Oedipus\nColone\u00fcs_, he will be inclined to wish that Sophocles had softened\nhere and there the outlines of her adamantine statue. Yet, after long\ncontemplation of those perfect lineaments, we come to recognize in\nher a purity of passion, a fixity of purpose, a loyalty of kinship, a\nsublime enthusiasm for duty, simply conceived and self-justified in\nspite of all conventions to the contrary, which soar above the strain\nof modern tragic sentiment. Even Alfieri, in the noble drawing he has\nsketched from the Sophoclean picture, could not abstain from violating\nits perfection by this sentimental touch of common feeling:\n\n                  Emone, ah! tutto io sento,\n    Tutto l' amor, che a te portava: io sento\n    Il dolor tutto, a cui ti lascio.\n\nNo such words are to be found in Sophocles upon the lips of the dying\nAntigone. She is all for her father and her brothers. The tragedy of\nH\u00e6mon belongs to Creon, not to her. Her furthest concessions to the\nsympathies which might have swayed a weaker woman are found in this\nline,\n\n    #\u00f4 philtath' Haimon, h\u00f4s s' atimazei pat\u00ear#,\n\nand in the passage of the Kommos where she bewails her luckless lot of\nmaidenhood. For the rest, Sophocles has sustained her character as that\nof one \"whom, like sparkling steel, the strokes of chance made hard and\nfirm.\" This steely durability, this crystalline sparkle, divide her not\nonly from the ideal raised by romance for womanhood, but distinguish\nher, as the daughter of Oedipus, from the general sisterhood even of\nGreek heroines.\n\nThe peculiar qualities of Antigone are brought into sharp relief by the\nmilder virtues of Ismene, who thinks it right to obey Creon, and who\nhas no spirit for the deed of daring, but who is afterwards eager to\nshare the punishment of her sister. Antigone repels her very sternly,\nherein displaying the force of her nature under its less amiable\naspect: \"Have courage! Thou livest, but my soul long since hath died.\"\nThe glory of the act is hers alone. Ismene has no right to share it\nwhen the risks are past, the penalty is paid. Antigone's repulsion of\nher sister seems to supply the key to her own heroism. \"Oedipus,\" she\nsays, \"is dead; my brethren are dead: for them I lived, and in their\ndeath I died to life; but you--your heart is not shut up within your\nfather's and your brother's grave; it is still warm, still eager for\nlove and the joys of this world. Live, then. For me it would be no more\npossible to live such life as yours than for the clay-cold corpse upon\nthe bier.\"\n\nThe character of Creon, darkened in its tone and shadow to the utmost\nwith a view to affording a foil of another species for Antigone, was\nthought worthy of minute and careful treatment by Sophocles. In the\n_Oedipus Tyrannus_ he is wronged rather than wronging. While suffering\nfrom the unjust suspicion and hasty language of the king, he pleads\nhis cause with decent gravity and shows no sign of either arrogance\nor cowardice. At the end, when Oedipus has fallen, his own behavior\nis such as would not disgrace a generous as well as prudent prince.\nThe neutrality for good or evil which distinguishes Creon in this\nplay, marking him out in contrast with the fiery heat of Oedipus,\nthe impious irony of Jocasta, is, to say the least, respectable. In\nthe _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ he plays a consistently mean and odious part;\nhis pragmatical display of rhetoric before the burghers of Colonus,\nwhen tested by his violent and cruel conduct towards Antigone, proves\nhim to be a hollow-hearted and specious hypocrite. The light here\nreflected back upon his respectability in the _Tyrannus_ is decidedly\nunfavorable. In the _Antigone_ Creon becomes, if possible, still\nmore odious; only our animosity against him is tempered by contempt.\nTo the faults of egotism, hardness, and hypocritical prating, are\nnow added the infatuation of self-will and the godless hatred of a\ndead foe. There is, indeed, a show of right in the decree published\nconcerning the two brothers, one of whom had brought a foreign army\nagainst Thebes; but it would be sophistry to maintain that Creon was\nactuated by patriotic motives. The defeat and death of Polyneices were\npunishment enough. By pursuing his personal spite beyond the grave\nCreon insults the common instincts of humanity, the sympathies of the\npeople, and the supposed feelings of the gods, who cannot bear to gaze\nupon abominations. The pathetic self-devotion of Antigone, the voice\nof the city, the remonstrances of H\u00e6mon, and the warnings of Teiresias\nare all thrown away upon his stubborn and conceited obstinacy. He shows\nhimself, in short, to be a tyrant of the orthodox sort. Like a tyrant,\nhe is, moreover, absurdly suspicious: the guardian has, he thinks, been\nbought; Ismene must be hatching treason; H\u00e6mon prefers a woman to his\nduty; Teiresias is plotting for the sake of gain against him. When it\nis just too late, he gives way helplessly and feebly, moved to terror\nby the dark words of the seer. Creon is, therefore, a mixed character,\ngreat neither for good nor for evil, weak through wilfulness, plausible\nin words and wavering in his determinations, a man who might have\npassed for excellent if he had never had to wield a kingdom's power.\nHis own description of himself--#mataion andra#--suits him not only in\nthe utter collapse of his character and rain of his fortunes, but also\nin the height of his prosperity and fulness of his seeming strength.\n\nSophocles might fairly be censured for having made the misery of Creon\nthe climax of a drama which ought to have had its whole interest\ncentred in Antigone. Our sympathies have not been sufficiently enlisted\non the side of H\u00e6mon to make us care much about his death. For\nEurydice it is impossible to rouse more than a languid pity. Creon,\nwe feel, gets no more than he deserves; instead of being sorry for\nhim, we are only angry that he was not swept away into the dustheap\nof oblivion sooner. It was surely a mistake to divert the attention\nof the audience, at the very end of the tragedy, from its heroine to\na character which, like that of Creon, rouses impatient scorn as well\nas antipathy. That Sophocles had artistic reasons for not concluding\nthis play with the death of Antigone may be readily granted by those\nwho have made the crises of the _Ajax_, the _Oedipus Tyrannus_, and\nthe _Oedipus Colone\u00fcs_ the subject of special study. He preferred,\nit seems, to relax the strained sympathies of his audience by a\nprolongation of the drama on an altered theme. Yet this scarcely\njustifies the shifting of the centre of interest attempted in the\n_Antigone_. We have to imagine that the inculcation of a moral lesson\nupon the crime of #asebeia# was the poet's paramount object.[142] If\nso, he sacrificed dramatic effect to ethics.\n\nIt should be noticed that Antigone, in whom the fate of the family of\nLaius is finally accomplished, falls an innocent victim. Her tragedy is\nno immediate consequence of the Oedipodean curse. While her brethren\nwere wilfully involved in the doom of their house, she perished in the\ncause of divine charity. Finding that the immutable ordinances of\nHeaven clashed with the arbitrary volition of a ruler, she preferred to\nobey the law of conscience and to die at the behest of a pride-maddened\ntyrant. She is technically disobedient, morally most duteous. Thus the\n_Antigone_ carries us beyond the region of hereditary disaster into the\nmore universal sphere of ethical casuistry. Its tragic interest depends\nless upon the evolution of the law of ancestral guilt than on the\nconflict of two duties. By suggesting the casuistical question to his\naudience, while he freed his heroine from all doubt upon the subject,\nSophocles maintained the sublime simplicity which distinguishes\nAntigone above all women of romance. The retribution that falls on\nCreon furnishes a powerful example of the Greek doctrine of Nemesis;\nbut over Antigone herself Nemesis exerts no sway. In her action there\nwas nothing unconsidered; in her doom there was nothing unforeseen.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[129] \"Fain would I be a fair lyre of ivory, and fair boys carrying me\nto Dionysus's choir.\"\n\n[130] \"Soul of mine, in due season it is meet to gather love, when life\nis young.\"\n\n[131] _De Aud. Poet._, p. 16 C.\n\n[132] _De Subl._, xxxiii. 5.\n\n[133] See above, p. 378.\n\n[134] Notice the phrases #beltiones# in _Poet._, cap. ii., as\ncompared with #kath' h\u00eamas#, and again #homoious poiountes, kallious\ngraphousin#, in cap. xv., together with the whole analogy of painting\nin both of these places.\n\n[135] Cap. xxvi.\n\n[136] _Oed. Tyr._, 863; _Ant._, 450. The first translation is borrowed\nfrom Mr. M. Arnold.\n\n[137] See what Goethe says about the importance of Creon and Ismene in\nthe _Antigone_. (Eckermann, vol. i.)\n\n[138] Our imperfect knowledge of the Attic drama prevents our forming\nany opinion as to the employment of the _deus ex machin\u00e2_ by the\nearlier tragedians.\n\n[139] English Translation, vol. i. p. 371.\n\n[140] _Poetics_, xi.\n\n[141] See especially 1181-1203, 1414-1443.\n\n[142] The last six lines spoken by the Chorus seem to justify this\nview. A couplet from the _Pher\u00e6i_ of Moschion might be inscribed as a\nmotto upon the _Antigone_:\n\n    #kenon thanontos andros aikizein skian;\n    z\u00f4ntas kolazein ou thanontas eusebes.#\n\n\n\nEND OF VOL. I.\n\n\n\n\n    Transcriber's Notes:\n\n\n    Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were\n    corrected.\n\n    Punctuation normalized.\n\n    Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.\n\n    Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.\n\n    Gesperrt markup is enclosed in +plus signs+.\n\n    Fancy or unusual font markup is enclosed in ~tilde symbols~.\n\n    Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in #number signs#.","title":"Studies of the Greek Poets (Vol 1 of 2)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":156709}