{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_6200/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_6200","id":"gutenberg_6200","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6200","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Ancient","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Greece -- Civilization"],"text":"Produced by Tonya Allen, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF LIFE\n\nBY\n\nG. LOWES DICKINSON, M.A.\n\nSIXTH EDITION\n\nNEW YORK\n\n1909\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe following pages are intended to serve as a general introduction to\nGreek literature and thought, for those, primarily, who do not know\nGreek. Whatever opinions may be held as to the value of translations, it\nseems clear that it is only by their means that the majority of modern\nreaders can attain to any knowledge of Greek culture; and as I believe\nthat culture to be still, as it has been in the past, the most valuable\nelement of a liberal education, I have hoped that such an attempt as the\npresent to give, with the help of quotations from the original authors,\nsome general idea of the Greek view of life, will not be regarded as\nlabour thrown away.\n\nIt has been essential to my purpose to avoid, as far as may be, all\ncontroversial matter; and if any classical scholar who may come across\nthis volume should be inclined to complain of omissions or evasions, I\nwould beg him to remember the object of the book and to judge it\naccording to its fitness for its own end.\n\n\"The Greek View of Life,\" no doubt, is a question-begging title, but I\nbelieve it to have a quite intelligible meaning; for varied and manifold\nas the phases may be that are presented by the Greek civilization, they\ndo nevertheless group themselves about certain main ideas, to be\ndistinguished with sufficient clearness from those which have dominated\nother nations. It is these ideas that I have endeavoured to bring into\nrelief; and if I have failed, the blame, I submit, must be ascribed\nrather to myself than to the nature of the task I have undertaken.\n\nFrom permission to make the extracts from translations here printed my\nbest thanks are due to the following authors and publishers:--Professor\nButcher, Mr. Andrew Lang, Mr. E. D. A. Morshead, Mr. B. B. Rogers, Dr.\nVerrall, Mr. A. S. Way, Messrs. George Bell and Sons, the Syndics of the\nCambridge University Press, the Delegates of the Clarendon Press,\nOxford, Messrs. Macmillan and Co., Mr. John Murray, and Messrs. Sampson\nLow, Marston and Co.--I have also to thank the Master and Fellows of\nBalliol College, Oxford, for permission to quote at considerable length\nfrom the late Professor Jowett's translations of Plato and Thucydides.\n\nAppended is a list of the translations from which I have quoted.\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF TRANSLATIONS USED\n\n\nAESCHYLUS (B.C. 525--456). \"The House of Atreus\"\n     (I.E. the \"Agamemnon,\" \"Choephorae\" and \"Eumenides\"),\n     translated by E. D. A. MORSHEAD (Warren and Sons).\n     The \"Eumenides,\" translated by DR. VERRALL (Cambridge,\n     1885).\n\nARISTOPHANES (C. B.C. 444--380). \"The Acharnians,\n     the Knights, and the Birds,\" translated by JOHN HOOKHAM\n     FRERE (Morley's Universal Library, Routledge).\n     [Also the \"Frogs\" and the \"Peace\" in his Collected\n     Works, (Pickering)].\n     The \"Clouds,\" the \"Lysistrata\" [\"Women in Revolt,\"]\n     the \"Peace,\" and the \"Wasps,\" translated by B. B. ROGERS\n\nARISTOTLE (B.C. 384--322). The \"Ethics,\" the \"Politics,\"\n     and the \"Rhetoric,\" translated by J. E. C. WELLDON\n     (Macmillan & Co.).\n\nDEMOSTHENES (B.C. 385--322). \"Orations,\" translated by\n     C. R. KENNEDY (Bell).\n\nEURIPIDES (B.C. 480--406). \"Tragedies,\" translated by\n     A. S. WAY (Macmillan & Co.).\n\nHERODOTUS (B.C. 484-- ). \"The History,\" translated\n     by S. R. RAWLINSON (Murray).\n\nHOMER. The \"Iliad,\" translated by LANG, LEAF AND MYERS;\n     the \"Odyssey,\" translated by BUTCHER & LANG (Macmillan).\n\nPINDAR (B.C. 522--442). \"Odes,\" translated by E. MYERS\n     (Macmillan & Co.).\n\nPLATO (B.C. 430--347). The \"Dialogues,\" translated by\n     B. JOWETT (Clarendon Press).\n     \"The Republic,\" translated by DAVIES AND VAUGHAN\n     (Macmillan & Co.).\n\nPLUTARCH. \"Lives,\" DRYDEN'S translation, edited by\n     A. CLOUGH (Sampson Low, Marston & Co.).\n\nSOPHOCLES (B.C. 496--406). Edited and Translated by DR. JEBB\n     (Cambridge University Press).\n\nTHUCYDIDES (B.C. 471-- ), edited and translated by\n     B. JOWETT (Clarendon Press).\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I.--THE GREEK VIEW OF RELIGION\n\n1. Introductory\n\n2. Greek Religion an Interpretation of Nature\n\n3. Greek Religion an Interpretation of the Human Passions\n\n4. Greek Religion the Foundation of Society\n\n5. Religious Festivals\n\n6. The Greek Conception of the Relation of Man to the Gods\n\n7. Divination, Omens, Oracles\n\n8. Sacrifice and Atonement\n\n9. Guilt and Punishment\n\n10. Mysticism\n\n11. The Greek View of Death and a Future Life\n\n12. Critical and Sceptical Opinion in Greece\n\n13. Ethical Criticism\n\n14. Transition to Monotheism\n\n15. Metaphysical Criticism\n\n16. Metaphysical reconstruction--Plato\n\n17. Summary\n\n\nCHAPTER II.--THE GREEK VIEW OF THE STATE\n\n1. The Greek State a \"City\"\n\n2. The Relation of the State to the Citizen\n\n3. The Greek View of Law\n\n4. Artisans and Slaves\n\n5. The Greek State primarily Military, not Industrial\n\n6. Forms of Government in the Greek State\n\n7. Faction and Anarchy\n\n8. Property and the Communistic Ideal\n\n9. Sparta\n\n10. Athens\n\n11. Sceptical Criticism of the Basis of the State\n\n12. Summary\n\n\nCHAPTER III.--THE GREEK VIEW OF THE INDIVIDUAL\n\n1. The Greek View of Manual Labour and Trade\n\n2. Appreciation of External Goods\n\n3. Appreciation of Physical Qualities\n\n4. Greek Athletics\n\n5. Greek Ethics--Identification of the Aesthetic and Ethical Points of View\n\n6. The Greek View of Pleasure\n\n7. Illustrations.--Ischomachus; Socrates\n\n8. The Greek View of Woman\n\n9. Protests against the Common View of Woman\n\n10. Friendship\n\n11. Summary\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.--THE GREEK VIEW OF ART\n\n1. Greek Art an Expression of National Life\n\n2. Identification of the Aesthetic and Ethical points of View\n\n3. Sculpture and Painting\n\n4. Music and the Dance\n\n5. Poetry\n\n6. Tragedy\n\n7. Comedy\n\n8. Summary\n\n\nCHAPTER V.--CONCLUSION\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF LIFE\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF RELIGION\n\n\nSection 1. Introductory.\n\nIn approaching the subject of the religion of the Greeks it is necessary\nto dismiss at the outset many of the associations which we are naturally\ninclined to connect with that word. What we commonly have in our mind\nwhen we speak of religion is a definite set of doctrines, of a more or\nless metaphysical character, formulated in a creed and supported by an\norganisation distinct from the state. And the first thing we have to\nlearn about the religion of the Greeks is that it included nothing of\nthe kind. There was no church, there was no creed, there were no\narticles; there was no doctrine even, unless we are so to call a chaos\nof legends orally handed down and in continual process of transformation\nby the poets. Priests there were, but they were merely public officials,\nappointed to perform certain religious rites. The distinction between\ncleric and layman, as we know it, did not exist; the distinction between\npoetry and dogma did not exist; and whatever the religion of the Greeks\nmay have been, one thing at any rate is clear, that it was something\nvery different from all that we are in the habit of associating with the\nword.\n\nWhat then was it? It is easy to reply that it was the worship of those\ngods--of Zeus, Apollo, Athene, and the rest--with whose names and\nhistories every one is familiar. But the difficulty is to realise what\nwas implied in the worship of these gods; to understand that the\nmythology which we regard merely as a collection of fables was to the\nGreeks actually true; or at least that to nine Greeks out of ten it\nwould never occur that it might be false, might be, as we say, mere\nstories. So that though no doubt the histories of the gods were in part\nthe inventions of the poets, yet the poets would conceive themselves to\nbe merely putting into form what they and every one believed to be\nessentially true.\n\nBut such a belief implies a fundamental distinction between the\nconception, or rather, perhaps, the feeling of the Greeks about the\nworld, and our own. And it is this feeling that we want to understand\nwhen we ask ourselves the question, what did a belief in the gods really\nmean to the ancient Greeks? To answer it fully and satisfactorily is\nperhaps impossible. But some attempt must be made; and it may help us in\nour quest if we endeavour to imagine the kind of questionings and doubts\nwhich the conception of the gods would set at rest.\n\n\nSection 2. Greek Religion an Interpretation of Nature.\n\nWhen we try to conceive the state of mind of primitive man the first\nthing that occurs to us is the bewilderment and terror he must have felt\nin the presence of the powers of nature. Naked, houseless, weaponless,\nhe is at the mercy, every hour, of this immense and incalculable\nSomething so alien and so hostile to himself. As fire it burns, as water\nit drowns, as tempest it harries and destroys; benignant it may be at\ntimes, in warm sunshine and calm, but the kindness is brief and\ntreacherous. Anyhow, whatever its mood, it has to be met and dealt with.\nBy its help, or, if not, in the teeth of its resistance, every step in\nadvance must be won; every hour, every minute, it is there to be\nreckoned with. What is it then, this persistent, obscure, unnameable\nThing? What is it? The question haunts the mind; it will not be put\naside; and the Greek at last, like other men under similar conditions,\nonly with a lucidity and precision peculiar to himself, makes the reply,\n\"it is something like myself.\" Every power of nature he presumes to be a\nspiritual being, impersonating the sky as Zeus, the earth as Demeter,\nthe sea as Poseidon; from generation to generation under his shaping\nhands, the figures multiply and define themselves; character and story\ncrystallise about what at first were little more than names; till at\nlast, from the womb of the dark enigma that haunted him in the\nbeginning, there emerges into the charmed light of a world of ideal\ngrace a pantheon of fair and concrete personalities. Nature has become a\ncompany of spirits; every cave and fountain is haunted by a nymph; in\nthe ocean dwell the Nereids, in the mountain the Oread, the Dryad in the\nwood; and everywhere, in groves and marshes, on the pastures or the\nrocky heights, floating in the current of the streams or traversing\nuntrodden snows, in the day at the chase and as evening closes in\nsolitude fingering his flute, seen and heard by shepherds, alone or with\nhis dancing train, is to be met the horned and goat-footed, the sunny-\nsmiling Pan.\n\nThus conceived, the world has become less terrible because more\nfamiliar. All that was incomprehensible, all that was obscure and dark,\nhas now been seized and bodied forth in form, so that everywhere man is\nconfronted no longer with blind and unintelligible force, but with\nspiritual beings moved by like passions with himself. The gods, it is\ntrue, were capricious and often hostile to his good, but at least they\nhad a nature akin to his; if they were angry, they might be propitiated;\nif they were jealous, they might be appeased; the enmity of one might be\ncompensated by the friendship of another; dealings with them, after all,\nwere not so unlike dealings with men, and at the worst there was always\na chance for courage, patience and wit.\n\nMan, in short, by his religion has been made at home in the world; and\nthat is the first point to seize upon. To drive it home, let us take an\nillustration from the story of Odysseus. Odysseus, it will be\nremembered, after the sack of Troy, for ten years was a wanderer on the\nseas, by tempest, enchantment, and every kind of danger detained, as it\nseemed, beyond hope of return from the wife and home he had left in\nIthaca. The situation is forlorn enough. Yet, somehow or other, beauty\nin the story predominates over terror. And this, in part at least,\nbecause the powers with which Odysseus has to do, are not mere forces of\nnature, blind and indifferent, but spiritual beings who take an\ninterest, for or against, in his fate. The whole story becomes familiar,\nand, if one may say so, comfortable, by the fact that it is conducted\nunder the control and direction of the gods. Listen, for example, to the\nHomeric account of the onset of a storm, and observe how it sets one at\nease with the elements:\n\n\"Now the lord, the shaker of the earth, on his way from the Ethiopians,\nespied Odysseus afar off from the mountains of the Solymi: even thence\nhe saw him as he sailed over the deep; and he was yet more angered in\nspirit, and wagging his head he communed with his own heart. 'Lo now, it\nmust be that the gods at the last have changed their purpose concerning\nOdysseus, while I was away among the Ethiopians. And now he is nigh to\nthe Phaeacian land, where it is so ordained that he escape the great\nissues of the woe which hath come upon him. But me-thinks, that even yet\nI will drive him far enough in the path of suffering.'\n\n\"With that he gathered the clouds and troubled the waters of the deep,\ngrasping his trident in his hands; and he roused all storms of all\nmanner of winds, and shrouded in clouds the land and sea: and down sped\nnight from heaven. The East Wind and the South Wind clashed, and the\nstormy West, and the North, that is born in the bright air, rolling\nonward a great wave.\" [Footnote: Odyss. v. 282.--Translated by Butcher\nand Lang.]\n\nThe position of the hero is terrible, it is true, but not with the\nterror of despair; for as it is a god that wrecked him, it may also be a\ngod that will save. If Poseidon is his enemy, Athene, he knows, is his\nfriend; and all lies, after all, in the hands, or, as the Greeks said,\n\"on the knees,\" not of a blind destiny, but of beings accessible to\nprayer.\n\nLet us take another passage from Homer to illustrate the same point. It\nis the place where Achilles is endeavouring to light the funeral pyre of\nPatroclus, but because there is no wind the fire will not catch. What is\nhe to do? What _can_ he do? Nothing, say we, but wait till the wind\ncomes. But to the Greek the winds are persons, not elements; Achilles\nhas only to call and to promise, and they will listen to his voice. And\nso, we are told, \"fleet-footed noble Achilles had a further thought:\nstanding aside from the pyre he prayed to the two winds of North and\nWest, and promised them fair offerings, and pouring large libations from\na golden cup besought them to come, that the corpses might blaze up\nspeedily in the fire, and the wood make haste to be enkindled. Then\nIris, when she heard his prayer, went swiftly with the message to the\nWinds. They within the house of the gusty West Wind were feasting all\ntogether at meat, when Iris sped thither, and halted on the threshold of\nstone. And when they saw her with their eyes, they sprung up and called\nto her every one to sit by him. But she refused to sit, and spake her\nword: 'No seat for me; I must go back to the streams of Ocean, to the\nEthiopians' land where they sacrifice hecatombs to the immortal gods,\nthat I too may feast at their rites. But Achilles is praying the North\nWind and the loud West to come, and promising them fair offerings, that\nye may make the pyre be kindled whereon lieth Patroclos, for whom all\nthe Achaians are making moan.'\n\n\"She having thus said departed, and they arose with a mighty sound,\nrolling the clouds before them. And swiftly they came blowing over the\nsea, and the wave rose beneath their shrill blast; and they came to\ndeep-soiled Troy, and fell upon the pile, and loudly roared the mighty\nfire. So all night drave they the flame of the pyre together, blowing\nshrill; and all night fleet Achilles, holding a two-handled cup, drew\nwine from a golden bowl, and poured it forth and drenched the earth,\ncalling upon the spirit of hapless Patroclos. As a father waileth when\nhe burneth the bones of his son, new-married, whose death is woe to his\nhapless parents, so wailed Achilles as he burnt the bones of his\ncomrade, going heavily round the burning pile, with many moans.\n\n\"But at the hour when the Morning Star goeth forth to herald light upon\nthe earth, the star that saffron-mantled Dawn cometh after, and\nspreadeth over the salt sea, then grew the burning faint, and the flame\ndied down. And the Winds went back again to betake them home over the\nThracian main, and it roared with a violent swell. Then the son of\nPeleus turned away from the burning and lay down wearied, and sweet\nsleep leapt on him.\" [Footnote: Iliad xxiii. p. 193.--Translated by\nLang, Leaf and Myers.]\n\nThe exquisite beauty of this passage, even in translation, will escape\nno lover of poetry. And it is a beauty which depends on the character of\nthe Greek religion; on the fact that all that is unintelligible in the\nworld, all that is alien to man, has been drawn, as it were, from its\ndark retreat, clothed in radiant form, and presented to the mind as a\nglorified image of itself. Every phenomenon of nature, night and \"rosy-\nfingered\" dawn, earth and sun, winds, rivers, and seas, sleep and\ndeath,--all have been transformed into divine and conscious agents, to\nbe propitiated by prayer, interpreted by divination, and comprehended by\npassions and desires identical with those which stir and control\nmankind.\n\n\nSection 3. Greek Religion an Interpretation of the Human Passions.\n\nAnd as with the external world, so with the world within. The powers of\nnature were not the only ones felt by man to be different from and alien\nto himself; there were others, equally strange, dwelling in his own\nheart, which, though in a sense they were part of him, yet he felt to be\nnot himself, which came upon him and possessed him without his choice\nand against his will. With these too he felt the need to make himself at\nhome, and these too, to satisfy his need, he shaped into creatures like\nhimself. To the whole range of his inner experience he gave definition\nand life, presenting it to himself in a series of spiritual forms. In\nAphrodite, mother of Eros, he incarnated the passion of love, placing in\nher broidered girdle \"love and desire of loving converse that steals the\nwits even of the wise\"; in Ares he embodied the lust of war; in Athene,\nwisdom; in Apollo, music and the arts. The pangs of guilt took shape in\nthe conception of avenging Furies; and the very prayers of the\nworshipper sped from him in human form, wrinkled and blear-eyed, with\nhalting pace, in the rear of punishment. Thus the very self of man he\nset outside himself; the powers, so intimate, and yet so strange, that\nswayed him from within he made familiar by making them distinct;\nconverted their shapeless terror into the beauty of visible form; and by\nmerely presenting them thus to himself in a guise that was immediately\nunderstood, set aside, if he could not answer, the haunting question of\ntheir origin and end.\n\nHere then is at least a partial reply to our question as to the effect\nof a belief in the gods on the feeling of the Greek. To repeat the\nphrase once more, it made him at home in the world. The mysterious\npowers that controlled him it converted into beings like himself; and so\ngave him heart and breathing-space, shut in, as it were, from the abyss\nby this shining host of fair and familiar forms, to turn to the\ninterests and claims of the passing hour an attention undistracted by\ndoubt and fear.\n\n\nSection 4. Greek Religion the Foundation of Society.\n\nBut this relation to the world of nature is only one side of man's life;\nmore prominent and more important, at a later stage of his development,\nis his relation to society; and here too in Greek civilization a great\npart was played by religion. For the Greek gods, we must remember, were\nnot purely spiritual powers, to be known and approached only in the\nheart by prayer. They were beings in human form, like, though superior\nto ourselves, who passed a great part of their history on earth,\nintervened in the affairs of men, furthered or thwarted their\nundertakings, begat among them sons and daughters, and followed, from\ngeneration to generation, the fortunes of their children's children.\nBetween them and mankind there was no impassable gulf; from Heracles the\nson of Zeus was descended the Dorian race; the Ionians from Ion, son of\nApollo; every family, every tribe traced back its origin to a \"hero\",\nand these \"heroes\" were children of the gods, and deities themselves.\nThus were the gods, in the most literal sense, the founders of society;\nfrom them was derived, even physically, the unit of the family and the\nrace; and the whole social structure raised upon that natural basis was\nnecessarily penetrated through and through by the spirit of religion.\n\nWe must not therefore be misled by the fact that there was no church in\nthe Greek state to the idea that the state recognised no religion; on\nthe contrary, religion was so essential to the state, so bound up with\nits whole structure, in general and in detail, that the very conception\nof a separation between the powers was impossible. If there was no\nseparate church, in our sense of the term, as an independent organism\nwithin the state, it was because the state, in one of its aspects, was\nitself a church, and derived its sanction, both as a whole and in its\nparts, from the same gods who controlled the physical world. Not only\nthe community as a whole but all its separate minor organs were under\nthe protection of patron deities. The family centred in the hearth,\nwhere the father, in his capacity of priest, offered sacrifice and\nprayer to the ancestors of the house; the various corporations into\nwhich families were grouped, the local divisions for the purpose of\ntaxation, elections, and the like, derived a spiritual unity from the\nworship of a common god; and finally the all-embracing totality of the\nstate itself was explained and justified to all its members by the cult\nof the special protecting deity to whom its origin and prosperous\ncontinuance were due. The sailor who saw, on turning the point of\nSunium, the tip of the spear of Athene glittering on the Acropolis,\nbeheld in a type the spiritual form of the state; Athene and Athens were\nbut two aspects of the same thing; and the statue of the goddess of\nwisdom dominating the city of the arts may serve to sum up for us the\nideal of that marvellous corporate life where there was no\necclesiastical religion only because there was no secular state.\n\nRegarded from this point of view, we may say that the religion of the\nGreeks was the spiritual side of their political life. And we must add\nthat in one respect their religion pointed the way to a higher political\nachievement than they were ever able to realise in fact. One fatal\ndefect of the Greek civilisation, as is familiar to students of their\nhistory, was the failure of the various independent city states to\ncoalesce into a single harmonious whole. But the tendency of religion\nwas to obviate this defect. We find, for example, that at one time or\nanother federations of states were formed to support in common the cult\nof some god; and one cult in particular there was--that of the Delphian\nApollo--whose influence on political no less than on religious life was\nfelt as far as and even beyond the limits of the Greek race. No colony\ncould be founded, no war hazarded, no peace confirmed, without the\nadvice and approval of the god--whose cult was thus at once a religious\ncentre for the whole of Greece, and a forecast of a political unity that\nshould co-ordinate into a whole her chaos of conflicting states.\n\nThe religion of the Greeks being thus, as we have seen, the\npresupposition and bond of their political life, we find its sanction\nextended at every point to custom and law. The persons of heralds, for\nexample, were held to be under divine protection; treaties between\nstates and contracts between individuals were confirmed by oath; the\nvengeance of the gods was invoked upon infringers of the law; national\nassemblies and military expeditions were inaugurated by public prayers;\nthe whole of corporate life, in short, social and political, was so\nembraced and bathed in an idealising element of ritual that the secular\nand religious aspects of the state must have been as inseparable to a\nGreek in idea as we know them to have been in constitution.\n\n\nSection 5. Religious Festivals.\n\nFor it was in ritual and art, not in propositions, that the Greek\nreligion expressed itself; and in this respect it was closer to the\nRoman Catholic than to the Protestant branch of the Christian faith. The\nplastic genius of the race, that passion to embody ideas in form, which\nwas at the root, as we saw, of their whole religious outlook, drove them\nto enact for their own delight, in the most beautiful and telling forms,\nthe whole conception they had framed of the world and of themselves. The\nchanges of the seasons, with the toil they exact and the gifts they\nbring, the powers of generation and destruction, the bounty or the\nrigours of the earth; and on the other hand, the order and operations of\nsocial phenomena, the divisions of age and sex, of function and of rank\nin the state--all these took shape and came, as it were, to self-\nconsciousness in a magnificent series of publicly ordered _fetes_.\nSo numerous were these and so diverse in their character that it would\nbe impossible, even if it were desirable in this place, to give any\ngeneral account of them. Our purpose will be better served by a\ndescription of two, selected from the calendar of Athens, and typical,\nthe one of the relations of man to nature, the other of his relation to\nthe state. The festivals we have chosen are those known as the\n\"Anthesteria\" [Footnote: This interpretation of the meaning of the\n\"Anthesteria\" is not accepted by modern scholars. It is not, however,\nfor typographical reasons, convenient to remove it from the text, and\nthe error is of no importance for the purpose of this book.] and the\n\"Panathenaea.\"\n\nThe Anthesteria was held at that season of the year when, as Pindar\nsings in an ode composed to be sung upon the occasion, \"the chamber of\nthe Hours is opened and the blossoms hear the voice of the fragrant\nspring; when violet clusters are flung on the lap of earth, and chaplets\nof roses braided in the hair; when the sound of the flute is heard and\nchoirs chanting hymns to Semele.\" On the natural side the festival\nrecords the coming of spring and the fermenting of last year's wine; on\nthe spiritual, its centre is Dionysus, who not only was the god of wine,\nbut, according to another legend, symbolised in his fate the death of\nthe year in winter and its rebirth at spring.\n\nThe ceremonies open with a scene of abandoned jollity; servants and\nslaves are invited to share in the universal revel; the school holidays\nbegin; and all the place is alive with the bustle and fun of a great\nfair. Bargaining, peep-shows, conjuring, and the like fill up the hours\nof the day; and towards evening the holiday-makers assemble garlanded\nand crowned in preparation for the great procession. The procession\ntakes place by torch-light; the statue of Dionysus leads the way, and\nthe revellers follow and swarm about him, in carriages or on foot,\ncostumed as Hours or Nymphs or Bacchae in the train of the god of wine.\nThe destination is the temple of the god and there sacrifice is\nperformed with the usual accompaniment of song and dance; the whole\nclosing with a banquet and a drinking contest, similar to those in vogue\namong the German students. Aristophanes has described the scene for us--\n\n                           \"Couches, tables,\n     Cushions and coverlets for mattresses,\n     Dancing and singing-girls for mistresses,\n     Plum cake and plain, comfits and caraways,\n     Confectionery, fruits preserved and fresh,\n     Relishes of all sorts, hot things and bitter,\n     Savouries and sweets, broiled biscuits and what not;\n     Flowers and perfumes, and garlands, everything.\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Ach. 1090.--Frere's translation.]\n\nand in the midst of this the signal given by the trumpet, the\nsimultaneous draught of wine, and the prize adjudged to the man who is\nthe first to empty his cup.\n\nThus ends the first phase of the festival. So far all has been mirth and\nrevelry; but now comes a sudden change of tone. Dionysus, god of wine\nthough he be, has also his tragic aspect; of him too there is recorded a\n\"descent into hell\"; and to the glad celebration of the renewal of life\nin spring succeeds a feast in honour of the dead. The ghosts, it is\nsupposed, come forth to the upper air; every door-post is smeared with\npitch to keep off the wandering shades; and every family sacrifices to\nits own departed. Nor are the arts forgotten; a musical festival is\nheld, and competing choirs sing and dance in honour of the god.\n\nSuch, so far as our brief and imperfect records enable us to trace it,\nwas the ritual of a typical Greek festival. With the many questions that\nmight be raised as to its origin and development we need not concern\nourselves at present; what we have to note is the broad fact,\ncharacteristic of the genius of the Greeks, that they have taken the\nnatural emotions excited by the birth of spring, and by connecting them\nwith the worship of Dionysus have given them expression and form; so\nthat what in its origin was a mere burst of primitive animal spirits is\ntransmuted into a complex and beautiful work of art, the secret springs\nand fountains of physical life flowing into the forms of a spiritual\nsymbol. It is this that is the real meaning of all ceremonial, and this\nthat the Greeks better than any other people understood. Their religion,\none may almost say, consisted in ritual; and to attempt to divide the\ninner from the outer would be to falsify from the beginning its\ndistinctive character.\n\nLet us pass to our second illustration, the great city-festival of\nAthens. In the Anthesteria it was a moment of nature that was seized and\nidealized; here, in the Panathenaea, it is the forms of social life, its\ndistinctions within its embracing unity, that are set forth in their\ninterdependence as functions of a spiritual life. In this great national\nfete, held every four years, all the higher activities of Athenian life\nwere ideally displayed--contests of song, of lyre and of flute, foot and\nhorse races, wrestling, boxing, and the like, military evolutions of\ninfantry and horse, pyrrhic dances symbolic of attack and defence in\nwar, mystic chants of women and choruses of youths--the whole\nconcentring and discharging itself in that great processional act in\nwhich, as it were, the material forms of society became transparent, and\nthe Whole moved on, illumined and visibly sustained by the spiritual\nsoul of which it was the complete and harmonious embodiment. Of this\nprocession we have still in the frieze of the Parthenon a marble\ntranscript. There we may see the life of ancient Athens moving in stone,\nfrom the first mounting of their horses by isolated youths, like the\nslow and dropping prelude of a symphony, on to the thronged and\ntrampling ranks of cavalry, past the antique chariots reminiscent of\nHomeric war, and the marching band of flutes and zithers, by lines of\nmen and maidens bearing sacrificial urns, by the garlanded sheep and\noxen destined for sacrifice, to where, on turning the corner that leads\nto the eastern front, we find ourselves in the presence of the Olympian\ngods themselves, enthroned to receive the offering of a people's life.\nAnd if to this marble representation we add the colour it lacks, the\ngold and silver of the vessels, the purple and saffron robes; if we set\nthe music playing and bid the oxen low; if we gird our living picture\nwith the blaze of an August noon and crown it with the Acropolis of\nAthens, we may form a conception, better perhaps than could otherwise be\nobtained, of what religion really meant to the citizen of a state whose\nactivities were thus habitually symbolised in the cult of its patron\ndeity. Religion to him, clearly, could hardly be a thing apart, dwelling\nin the internal region of the soul and leaving outside, untouched by the\nlight of the ideal, the whole business and complexity of the material\nside of life; to him it was the vividly present and active soul of his\ncorporate existence, representing in the symbolic forms of ritual the\nactual facts of his experience. What he re-enacted periodically, in\nordered ceremony, was but the drama of his daily life; so that, as we\nsaid before, the state in one of its aspects was a church, and every\nlayman from one point of view a priest.\n\nThe question, \"What did a belief in the gods really mean to the Greek\"\nhas now received at least some sort of answer. It meant, to recur to our\nold phrase, that he was made at home in the world. In place of the\nunintelligible powers of nature, he was surrounded by a company of\nbeings like himself; and these beings who controlled the physical world\nwere also the creators of human society. From them were descended the\nHeroes who founded families and states; and under their guidance and\nprotection cities prospered and throve. Their histories were recounted\nin innumerable myths, and these again were embodied in ritual. The whole\nlife of man, in its relations both to nature and to society, was\nconceived as derived from and dependent upon his gods; and this\ndependence was expressed and brought vividly home to him in a series of\nreligious festivals. Belief in the gods was not to him so much an\nintellectual conviction, as a spiritual atmosphere in which he moved;\nand to think it away would be to think away the whole structure of Greek\ncivilisation.\n\n\nSection 6. The Greek Conception of the Relation of Man to the Gods.\n\nAdmitting, however, that all this is true, admitting the place of\nreligion in Greek life, do we not end, after all, in a greater puzzle\nthan we began with? For this, it may be said, whatever it may be, is not\nwhat we mean by religion. This, after all, is merely a beautiful way of\nexpressing facts; a translation, not an interpretation, of life. What we\nmean by religion is something very different to that, something which\nconcerns the relation of the soul to God; the sense of sin, for example,\nand of repentance and grace. The religion of the Greeks, we may admit,\ndid something for them which our religion does not do for us. It gave\nintelligible and beautiful form to those phenomena of nature which we\ncan only describe as manifestations of energy; it expressed in a ritual\nof exquisite art those corporate relations which we can only enunciate\nin abstract terms; but did it perform what after all, it may be said, is\nthe true function of religion? did it touch the conscience as well as\nthe imagination and intellect?\n\nTo this question we may answer at once, broadly speaking, No! It was, we\nmight say, a distinguishing characteristic of the Greek religion that it\ndid not concern itself with the conscience at all; the conscience, in\nfact, did not yet exist, to enact that drama of the soul with God which\nis the main interest of the Christian, or at least of the Protestant\nfaith. To bring this point home to us let us open the \"Pilgrim's\nProgress\", and present to ourselves, in its most vivid colours, the\nposition of the English Puritan:\n\n\"Now, I saw, upon a time, when he was walking in the fields, that he was\n(as he was wont) reading in his book, and greatly distressed in his\nmind; and, as he read, he burst out, as he had done before, crying,\n'What shall I do to be saved?' I looked then, and saw a man named\nEvangelist coming to him, and asked, 'Wherefore dost thou cry?'\n\n\"He answered, 'Sir, I perceive by the book in my hand, that I am\ncondemned to die, and after that to come to judgment; and I find that I\nam not willing to do the first, nor able to do the second.'\n\n\"Then said Evangelist, 'Why not willing to die, since this life is\nattended with so many evils?' The man answered, 'Because I fear that\nthis burden that is upon my back will sink me lower than the grave, and\nI shall fall into Tophet. And, Sir, if I be not fit to go to prison, I\nam not fit to go to judgment, and from thence to execution; and the\nthoughts of these things makes me cry.'\n\n\"Then said Evangelist, 'If this be thy condition, why standest thou\nstill?' He answered, 'Because I know not whither to go.' Then he gave\nhim a parchment roll, and there was written within, 'Fly from the wrath\nto come.'\"\n\nThe whole spirit of the passage transcribed, and of the book from which\nit is quoted, is as alien as can be to the spirit of the Greeks. To the\nPuritan, the inward relation of the soul to God is everything; to the\naverage Greek, one may say broadly, it was nothing; it would have been\nat variance with his whole conception of the divine power. For the gods\nof Greece were beings essentially like man, superior to him not in\nspiritual nor even in moral attributes, but in outward gifts, such as\nstrength, beauty, and immortality. And as a consequence of this his\nrelations to them were not inward and spiritual, but external and\nmechanical. In the midst of a crowd of deities, capricious and\nconflicting in their wills, he had to find his way as best he could.\nThere was no knowing precisely what a god might want; there was no\nknowing what he might be going to do. If a man fell into trouble, no\ndoubt he had offended somebody, but it was not so easy to say whom or\nhow; if he neglected the proper observances no doubt he would be\npunished, but it was not everyone who knew what the proper observances\nwere. Altogether it was a difficult thing to ascertain or to move the\nwill of the gods, and one must help oneself as best one could. The\nGreek, accordingly, helped himself by an elaborate system of sacrifice\nand prayer and divination, a system which had no connection with an\ninternal spiritual life, but the object of which was simply to discover\nand if possible to affect the divine purposes. This is what we meant by\nsaying that the Greek view of the relation of man to the gods was\nmechanical. The point will become clearer by illustration.\n\n\nSection 7. Divination, Omens, Oracles.\n\nLet us take first a question which much exercised the Greek mind--the\ndifficulty of forecasting the future. Clearly, the notion that the world\nwas controlled by a crowd of capricious deities, swayed by human\npassions and desires, was incompatible with the idea of fixed law; but\non the other hand it made it possible to suppose that some intimation\nmight be had from the gods, either directly or symbolically, of what\ntheir intentions and purposes really were. And on this hypothesis we\nfind developed quite early in Greek history, a complex art of divining\nthe future by signs. The flight of birds and other phenomena of the\nheavens, events encountered on the road, the speech of passers-by, or,\nmost important of all, the appearance of the entrails of the victims\nsacrificed were supposed to indicate the probable course of events. And\nthis art, already mature in the time of the Homeric poems, we find\nflourishing throughout the historic age. Nothing could better indicate\nits prevalence and its scope than the following passage from\nAristophanes, where he ridicules the readiness of his contemporaries to\nsee in everything an omen, or, as he puts it, punning on the Greek word,\na \"bird\": \"On us you depend,\" sings his chorus of Birds,\n\n     \"On us you depend, and to us you repair\n     For counsel and aid, when a marriage is made,\n     A purchase, a bargain, a venture in trade;\n     Unlucky or lucky, whatever has struck ye,\n     An ox or an ass, that may happen to pass,\n     A voice in the street, or a slave that you meet,\n     A name or a word by chance overheard,\n     You deem it an omen, and call it a Bird.\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. \"Birds\" 717.--Frere's translation.]\n\nAristophanes, of course, is jesting; but how serious and important this\nart of divination must have appeared even to the most cultivated\nAthenians may be gathered from a passage of the tragedian Aeschylus,\nwhere he mentions it as one of the benefits conferred by Prometheus on\nmankind, and puts it on a level with the arts of building, metal-making,\nsailing, and the like, and the sciences of arithmetic and astronomy.\n\nAnd if anyone were dissatisfied with this method of interpretation by\nsigns, he had a directer means of approaching the gods. He could visit\none of the oracles and consult the deity at first hand about his most\ntrivial and personal family affairs. Some of the questions put to the\noracle at Dodona have been preserved to us, [Footnote: See Percy\nGardner, \"New Chapters in Greek History.\"] and very curious they are.\n\"Who stole my cushions and pillow?\" asks one bereaved householder.\nAnother wants to know whether it will pay him to buy a certain house and\nfarm; another whether sheep-farming is a good investment. Clearly, the\ngod was not above being consulted on the meanest affairs; and his easy\naccessibility must have been some compensation for his probable caprice.\n\nNor must it be supposed that this phase of the Greek religion was a\nsuperstition confined to individuals; on the contrary, it was fully\nrecognised by the state. No important public act could be undertaken\nwithout a previous consultation of omens. More than once, in the\nclearest and most brilliant period of the Greek civilisation, we hear of\nmilitary expeditions being abandoned because the sacrifices were\nunfavourable; and at the time of the Persian invasion, at the most\ncritical moment of the history of Greece, the Lacedaemonians, we are\ntold, came too late to be present at the battle of Marathon, because\nthey thought it unlucky to start until the moon was full.\n\nIn all this we have a suggestion of the sort of relation in which the\nGreek conceived himself to stand to the gods. It is a relation, as we\nsaid, external and mechanical. The gods were superior beings who knew,\nit might be presumed, what was going to happen; man didn't know, but\nperhaps he could find out. How could he find out? that was the problem;\nand it was answered in the way we have seen. There was no question,\nclearly, of a spiritual relation; all is external; and a similar\nexternality pervades, on the whole, the Greek view of sacrifice and of\nsin. Let us turn now to consider this point.\n\n\nSection 8. Sacrifice and Atonement.\n\nIn Homer, we find that sacrifice is frankly conceived as a sort of\npresent to the gods, for which they were in fairness bound to an\nequivalent return; and the nature of the bargain is fully recognised by\nthe gods themselves.\n\n\"Hector,\" says Zeus to Hera, \"was dearest to the gods of all mortals\nthat are in Ilios. So was he to me at least, for nowise failed he in the\ngifts I loved. Never did my altar lack seemly feast, drink-offering and\nthe steam of sacrifice, even the honour that falleth to our due.\"\n[Footnote: Iliad xxiv. 66.--Translated by Lang, Leaf and Myers.] And he\nconcludes that he must intervene to secure the restoration of the body\nof Hector to his father.\n\nThe performance of sacrifice, then, ensures favour; and on the other\nhand its neglect entails punishment. When Apollo sends a plague upon the\nGreek fleet the most natural hypothesis to account for his conduct is\nthat he has been stinted of his due meed of offerings; \"perhaps,\" says\nAgamemnon, \"the savour of lambs and unblemished goats may appease him.\"\nOr again, when the Greeks omit to sacrifice before building the wall\naround their fleet, they are punished by the capture of their position\nby the Trojans. The whole relation between man and the gods is of the\nnature of a contract. \"If you do your part, I'll do mine; if not, not!\"\nthat is the tone of the language on either side. The conception is\nlegal, not moral nor spiritual; it has nothing to do with what we call\nsin and conscience.\n\nAt a later period, it is true, we find a point of view prevailing which\nappears at first sight to come closer to that of the Christian. Certain\nacts we find, such as murder, for example, were supposed to infect as\nwith a stain not only the original offender but his descendants from\ngeneration to generation. Yet even so, the stain, it appears, was\nconceived to be rather physical than moral, analogous to disease both in\nits character and in the methods of its cure. Aeschylus tells us of the\nearth breeding monsters as a result of the corruption infused by the\nshedding of blood; and similarly a purely physical infection tainted the\nman or the race that had been guilty of crime. And as was the evil, so\nwas the remedy. External acts and observations might cleanse and purge\naway what was regarded as an external affection of the soul; and we know\nthat in historic times there was a class of men, comparable to the\nmediaeval \"pardoners\", whose profession it was to effect such cures.\nPlato has described them for us in striking terms. \"Mendicant prophets,\"\nhe says, \"go to rich men's doors and persuade them that they have a\npower committed to them of making an atonement for their sins or those\nof their fathers by sacrifices or charms with rejoicings and games; and\nthey promise to harm an enemy whether just or unjust, at a small charge;\nwith magic arts and incantations binding the will of heaven, as they\nsay, to do their work.... And they produce a host of books written by\nMusaeus and Orpheus, who were children of the Moon and the Muses--that\nis what they say--according to which they perform their ritual, and\npersuade not only individuals, but whole cities, that expiations and\natonements for sin may be made by sacrifices and amusements which fill a\nvacant hour.\" [Footnote: Plato's Republic, II. 364b.--Jowett's\ntranslation.]\n\nHow far is all this from the Puritan view of sin! How far from the\nChristian of the \"Pilgrim's Progress\" with the burden on his back! To\nmeasure the distance we have only to attend, with this passage in our\nmind, a meeting, say, of the \"Salvation Army\". We shall then perhaps\nunderstand better the distinction between the popular religion of the\nGreeks and our own; between the conception of sin as a physical\ncontagion to be cured by external rites, and the conception of it as an\naffection of the conscience which only \"grace\" can expel. In the one\ncase the fact that a man was under the taint of crime would be borne in\nupon him by actual misfortune from without--by sickness, or failure in\nbusiness, or some other of the troubles of life; and he would ease his\nmind and recover the spring of hope by performing certain ceremonies and\nrites. In the other case, his trouble is all inward; he feels that he is\nguilty in the sight of God, and the only thing that can relieve him is\nthe certainty that he has been forgiven, assured him somehow or other\nfrom within. The difference is fundamental, and important to bear in\nmind, if we would form a clear conception of the Greek view of life.\n\n\nSection 9. Guilt and Punishment.\n\nIt must not be supposed, however, that the popular superstition\ndescribed by Plato, however characteristic it may be of the point of\nview of the Greeks, represents the highest reach of their thought on the\nsubject of guilt. No profounder utterances are to be found on this theme\nthan those of the great poets and thinkers of Greece, who, without\nrejecting the common beliefs of their time, transformed them by the\ninsight of their genius into a new and deeper significance. Specially\nstriking in this connection is the poetry of the tragedian Aeschylus;\nand it will be well worth our while to pause for a moment and endeavour\nto realise his position.\n\nGuilt and its punishment is the constant theme of the dramas of\nAeschylus; and he has exhausted the resources of his genius in the\nattempt to depict the horror of the avenging powers, who under the name\nof the Erinyes, or Furies, persecute and torment the criminal. Their\nbreath is foul with the blood on which they feed; from their rheumy eyes\na horrible humour drops; daughters of night and clad in black they fly\nwithout wings; god and man and the very beasts shun them; their place is\nwith punishment and torture, mutilation, stoning and breaking of necks.\nAnd into their mouth the poet has put words which seem to breathe the\nvery spirit of the Jewish scriptures.\n\n\"Come now let us preach to the sons of men; yea, let us tell them of our\nvengeance; yea, let us all make mention of justice.\n\n\"Whoso showeth hands that are undefiled, lo, he shall suffer nought of\nus for ever, but shall go unharmed to his ending.\n\n\"But if he hath sinned, like unto this man, and covereth hands that are\nblood-stained: then is our witness true to the slain man.\n\n\"And we sue for the blood, sue and pursue for it, so that at\n                                the last there is payment.\n\n        Even so 'tis written:\n       (Oh sentence sure!)\n  \"Upon all that wild in wickedness dip hand\n   In the blood of their birth, in the fount of their flowing:\n   So shall he pine until the grave receive him--to find no\n     grace even in the grave!\n          Sing then the spell,\n          Sisters of hell;\n          Chant him the charm\n          Mighty to harm,\n          Binding the blood,\n          Madding the mood;\n   Such the music that we make:\n          Quail, ye sons of man, and quake,\n          Bow the heart, and bend, and break!\n\n   This is our ministry marked for us from the beginning;\n   This is our gift, and our portion apart, and our godhead,\n            Ours, ours only for ever,\n        Darkness, robes of darkness, a robe of terror for ever!\n            Ruin is ours, ruin and wreck;\n            When to the home\n            Murder hath come,\n            Making to cease\n            Innocent peace;\n            Then at his beck\n            Follow we in,\n            Follow the sin;\n        And ah! we hold to the end when we begin!\"\n           [Footnote: Aeschyl. Eum. 297.--Translated by Dr. Verrall\n           (Cambridge, 1885).]\n\nThere is no poetry more sublime than this; none more penetrated with the\nsense of moral law. But still it is wholly Greek in character. The theme\nis not really the conscience of the sinner but the objective consequence\nof his crime. \"Blood calls for blood,\" is the poet's text; a man, he\nsays, must pay for what he does. The tragedy is the punishment of the\nguilty, not his inward sense of sin. Orestes, in fact, who is the\nsubject of the drama with which we are concerned, in a sense was not a\nsinner at all. He had killed his mother, it is true, but only to avenge\nhis father whom she had murdered, and at the express bidding of Apollo.\nSo far is he from feeling the pangs of conscience that he constantly\njustifies his act. He suffers, not because he has sinned but because he\nis involved in the curse of his race. For generations back the house of\nAtreus had been tainted with blood; murder had called for murder to\navenge it; and Orestes, the last descendant, caught in the net of guilt,\nfound that his only possibility of right action lay in a crime. He was\nbound to avenge his father, the god Apollo had enjoined it; and the\navenging of his father meant the murder of his mother. What he commits,\nthen, is a crime, but not a sin; and so it is regarded by the poet. The\ntragedy, as we have said, centres round an external objective law--\n\"blood calls for blood.\" But that is all. Of the internal drama of the\nsoul with God, the division of the man against himself, the remorse, the\nrepentance, the new birth, the giving or withholding of grace--of all\nthis, the essential content of Christian Protestantism, not a trace in\nthe clear and concrete vision of the Greek. The profoundest of the poets\nof Hellas, dealing with the darkest problem of guilt, is true to the\nplastic genius of his race. The spirit throws outside itself the law of\nits own being; by objective external evidence it learns that doing\ninvolves suffering; and its moral conviction comes to it only when\nforced upon it from without by a direct experience of physical evil. Of\nAeschylus, the most Hebraic of the Hellenes, it is as true as of the\naverage Greek, that in the Puritan meaning of the phrase he had no sense\nof sin. And even in treating of him, we must still repeat what we said\nat the beginning, that the Greek conception of the relation of man to\nthe gods is external and mechanical, not inward and spiritual.\n\n\nSection 10. Mysticism.\n\nBut there is nothing so misleading as generalisation, specially on the\nsubject of the Greeks. Again and again when we think we have laid hold\nof their characteristic view we are confronted with some new aspect of\ntheir life which we cannot fit into harmony with our scheme. There is no\nformula which will sum up that versatile and many-sided people. And so,\nin the case before us, we have no sooner made what appears to be the\nsafe and comprehensive statement that the Greeks conceived the relation\nof man to the gods mechanically, than we are reminded of quite another\nphase of their religion, different from and even antithetic to that with\nwhich we have hitherto been concerned. Nothing, we might be inclined to\nsay on the basis of what we have at present ascertained, nothing could\nbe more opposed to the clear anthropomorphic vision of the Greek, than\nthat conception of a mystic exaltation, so constantly occurring in the\nhistory of religion, whose aim is to transcend the limits of human\npersonality and pass into direct communion with the divine life. Yet of\nsome such conception, and of the ritual devised under its influence, we\nhave undoubted though fragmentary indications in the civilization of the\nGreeks. It is mainly in connection with the two gods Apollo and Dionysus\nthat the phenomena in question occur; gods whose cult was introduced\ncomparatively late into Greece and who brought with them from the north\nsomething of its formless but pregnant mystery; as though at a point the\nchain of guardian deities was broken, and the terror and forces of the\nabyss pressed in upon the charmed circle of Hellas. For Apollo, who in\none of his aspects is a figure so typically Hellenic, the ever-young and\nbeautiful god of music and the arts, was also the Power of prophetic\ninspiration, of ecstasy or passing out of oneself. The priestess who\ndelivered his oracle at Delphi was possessed and mastered by the god.\nMaddened by mephitic vapours streaming from a cleft in the rock,\nconvulsed in every feature and every limb, she delivered in semi-\narticulate cries the burden of the divine message. Her own personality,\nfor the time being, was annihilated; the wall that parts man from god\nwas swept away; and the Divine rushed in upon the human vessel it\nshattered as it filled. This conception of inspiration as a higher form\nof madness, possessed of a truer insight than that of sanity, was fully\nrecognised among the Greeks. \"There is a madness,\" as Plato puts it,\n\"which is the special gift of heaven, and the source of the chiefest\nblessings among men. For prophecy is a madness, and the prophetess at\nDelphi and the priestesses at Dodona when out of their senses have\nconferred great benefits on Hellas, both in public and private life, but\nwhen in their senses few or none.... And in proportion as prophecy is\nhigher and more perfect than divination both in name and reality, in the\nsame proportion, as the ancients testify, is madness superior to a sane\nmind, for the one is only of human, but the other of divine origin.\"\n[Footnote: Plato, Phaedrus, 244.--Jowett's translation.]\n\nHere then, in the oracle at Delphi, the centre of the religious life\nof the Greeks, we have an explicit affirmation of that element of\nmysticism which we might have supposed to be the most alien to their\ngenius; and the same element re-appears, in a cruder and more barbaric\nform, in connection with the cult of Dionysus. He, the god of wine,\nwas also the god of inspiration; and the ritual with which he was\nworshipped was a kind of apotheosis of intoxication. To suppress for a\ntime the ordinary work-a-day consciousness, with its tedium, its\nchecks, its balancing of pros and cons, to escape into the directness\nand simplicity of mere animal life, and yet to feel in this no\ndegradation but rather a submission to the divine power, an actual\nidentification with the deity-such, it would seem, was the intention\nof those extraordinary revels of which we have in the \"Bacchae\" of\nEuripides so vivid a description. And to this end no stimulus was\nomitted to excite and inspire the imagination and the sense. The\ninfluence of night and torches in solitary woods, intoxicating drinks,\nthe din of flutes and cymbals on a bass of thunderous drums, dances\nconvulsing every limb and dazzling eyes and brain, the harking-back,\nas it were, to the sympathies and forms of animal life in the dress of\nfawnskin, the horns, the snakes twined about the arm, and the\nimpersonation of those strange half-human creatures who were supposed\nto attend upon the god, the satyrs, nymphs, and fauns who formed his\ntrain--all this points to an attempt to escape from the bounds of\nordinary consciousness and pass into some condition conceived, however\nconfusedly, as one of union with the divine power. And though the\nbasis, clearly enough, is physical and even bestial, yet the whole\nritual does undoubtedly express, and that with a plastic grace and\nbeauty that redeems its frank sensuality, that passion to transcend\nthe limitations of human existence which is at the bottom of the\nmystic element in all religions.\n\nBut this orgy of the senses was not the only form which the worship of\nDionysus took in Greece. In connection with one of his legends, the myth\nof Dionysus Zagreus, we find traces of an esoteric doctrine, taught by\nwhat were known as the orphic sects, very curiously opposed, one would\nhave said, to the general trend of Greek conceptions. According to the\nstory, Zagreus was the son of Zeus and Persephone. Hera, in her\njealousy, sent the Titans to destroy him; after a struggle, they managed\nto kill him, cut him up and devoured all but the heart, which was saved\nby Athene and carried to Zeus. Zeus swallowed it, and produced therefrom\na second Dionysus. The Titans he destroyed by lightning, and from their\nashes created Man. Man is thus composed of two elements, one bad, the\nTitanic, the other good, the Dionysiac; the latter being derived from\nthe body of Dionysus, which the Titans had devoured. This fundamental\ndualism, according to the doctrine founded on the myth, is the perpetual\ntragedy of man's existence; and his perpetual struggle is to purify\nhimself of the Titanic element. The process extends over many\nincarnations, but an ultimate deliverance is promised by the aid of the\nredeemer Dionysus Lysius.\n\nThe belief thus briefly described was not part of the popular religion\nof the Greeks, but it was a normal growth of their consciousness, and it\nis mentioned here as a further indication that even in what we call the\nclassical age there were not wanting traces of the more mystic and\nspiritual side of religion. Here, in the tenets of these orphic sects,\nwe have the doctrine of \"original sin,\" the conception of life as a\nstruggle between two opposing principles, and the promise of an ultimate\nredemption by the help of the divine power. And if this be taken in\nconnection with the universal and popular belief in inspiration as\npossession by the god, we shall see that our original statement that the\nrelation of man to the gods was mechanical and external in the Greek\nconception, must at least be so far modified that it must be taken only\nas an expression of the central or dominant point of view, not as\nexcluding other and even contradictory standpoints.\n\nStill, broadly speaking and admitting the limitations, the statement may\nstand. If the Greek popular religion be compared with that of the\nChristian world, the great distinction certainly emerges, that in the\none the relation of God to man is conceived as mechanical and external,\nin the other as inward and spiritual. The point has been sufficiently\nillustrated, and we may turn to another division of our subject.\n\n\nSection 11. The Greek View of Death and a Future Life.\n\nOf all the problems on which we expect light to be thrown by religion\nnone, to us, is more pressing than that of death. A fundamental, and as\nmany believe, the most essential part of Christianity, is its doctrine\nof reward and punishment in the world beyond; and a religion which had\nnothing at all to say about this great enigma we should hardly feel to\nbe a religion at all. And certainly on this head the Greeks, more than\nany people that ever lived, must have required a consolation and a hope.\nJust in proportion as their life was fuller and richer than that which\nhas been lived by any other race, just in proportion as their capacity\nfor enjoyment, in body and soul, was keener, as their senses were finer,\ntheir intellect broader, their passions more intense, must they have\nfelt, with peculiar emphasis, the horror of decay and death. And such,\nin fact, is the characteristic note of their utterances on this theme.\n\"Rather,\" says the ghost of Achilles to Odysseus in the world of shades,\n\"rather would I live upon the soil as the hireling of another, with a\nlandless man who had no great livelihood, than bear sway among all the\ndead that are no more.\" [Footnote: Od. xi 489.--Translated by Butcher\nand Lang.] Better, as Shakespeare has it,\n\n     \"The weariest and most loathed worldly life\n     That age, ache, penury and imprisonment\n     Can lay on nature,\"\n\nbetter that, on earth at least and in the sun, than the phantom kingdoms\nof the dead. The fear of age and death is the shadow of the love of\nlife; and on no people has it fallen with more horror than on the\nGreeks. The tenderest of their songs of love close with a sob; and it is\nan autumn wind that rustles in their bowers of spring. Here, for\nexample, is a poem by Mimnermus characteristic of this mood of the\nGreeks:\n\n     \"O golden Love, what life, what joy but thine?\n       Come death, when thou art gone, and make an end!\n     When gifts and tokens are no longer mine,\n       Nor the sweet intimacies of a friend.\n     These are the flowers of youth. But painful age\n       The bane of beauty, following swiftly on,\n     Wearies the heart of man with sad presage\n       And takes away his pleasure in the sun.\n     Hateful is he to maiden and to boy\n       And fashioned by the gods for our annoy.\"\n          [Footnote: Mimnermus, El. I.]\n\nSuch being the general view of the Greeks on the subject of death, what\nhas their religion to say by way of consolation? It taught, to begin\nwith, that the spirit does survive after death. But this survival, as it\nis described in the Homeric poems, is merely that of a phantom and a\nshade, a bloodless and colourless duplicate of the man as he lived on\nearth. Listen to the account Odysseus gives of his meeting with his\nmother's ghost.\n\n\"So spake she, and I mused in my heart and would fain have embraced the\nspirit of my mother dead. Thrice I sprang towards her, and was minded to\nembrace her; thrice she flitted from my hands as a shadow or even as a\ndream, and sharper ever waxed the grief within me. And uttering my voice\nI spake to her winged words:\n\n\"'Mother mine, wherefore dost thou not tarry for me who am eager to\nseize thee, that even in Hades we twain may cast our arms each about the\nother, and satisfy us with chill lament? Is it but a phantom that the\nhigh goddess Persephone hath sent me, to the end that I may groan for\nmore exceeding sorrow?'\n\n\"So spake I, and my lady mother answered me anon:\n\n\"'Ah me, my child, luckless above all men, nought doth Persephone, the\ndaughter of Zeus, deceive thee, but even in this wise it is with mortals\nwhen they die. For the sinews no more bind together the flesh and the\nbones, but the force of burning fire abolishes them, so soon as the life\nhath left the white bones, and the spirit like a dream flies forth and\nhovers near.'\"\n\nFrom such a conception of the life after death little comfort could be\ndrawn; nor does it appear that any was sought. So far as we can trace\nthe habitual attitude of the Greek he seems to have occupied himself\nlittle with speculation, either for good or evil, as to what might await\nhim on the other side of the tomb. He was told indeed in his legends of\na happy place for the souls of heroes, and of torments reserved for\ngreat criminals; but these ideas do not seem to have haunted his\nimagination. He was never obsessed by that close and imminent vision of\nheaven and hell which overshadowed and dwarfed, for the mediaeval mind,\nthe brief space of pilgrimage on earth. Rather he turned, by preference,\nfrom the thought of death back to life, and in the memory of honourable\ndeeds in the past and the hope of fame for the future sought his\ncompensation for the loss of youth and love. In the great funeral speech\nupon those who have fallen in war which Thucydides puts into the mouth\nof Pericles we have, we must suppose, a reflection, more accurate than\nis to be found elsewhere, of the position naturally adopted by the\naverage Greek. And how simple are the topics, how broad and human, how\nrigorously confined to the limits of experience! There is no suggestion\nanywhere of a  personal existence continued after death; the dead live\nonly in their deeds; and only by memory are the survivors to be\nconsoled.\n\n\"I do not now commiserate the parents of the dead who stand here; I\nwould rather comfort them. You know that your life has been passed amid\nmanifold vicissitudes; and that they may be deemed fortunate who have\ngained most honour, whether an honourable death like theirs, or an\nhonourable sorrow like yours, and whose days have been so ordered that\nthe term of their happiness is likewise the term of their life... Some\nof you are at an age at which they may hope to have other children, and\nthey ought to bear their sorrow better; not only will the children who\nmay hereafter be born make them forget their now lost ones, but the city\nwill be doubly a gainer. She will not be left desolate, and she will be\nsafer. For a man's counsels cannot be of equal weight or worth, when he\nalone has no children to risk in the general danger. To those of you who\nhave passed their prime, I say: 'Congratulate yourselves that you have\nbeen happy during the greater part of your days; remember that your life\nof sorrow will not last long, and be comforted by the glory of those who\nare gone. For the love of honour alone is ever young, and not riches, as\nsome say, but honour is the delight of men when they are old and\nuseless.'\" [Footnote: Thuc. II. 44.--Jowett's translation.]\n\nThe passage perhaps represents what we may call the typical attitude of\nthe Greek. To seek consolation for death, if anywhere, then in life, and\nin life not as it might be imagined beyond the grave, but as it had been\nand would be lived on earth, appears to be consonant with all that we\nknow of the clear and objective temper of the race. It is the spirit\nwhich was noted long ago by Goethe as inspiring the sepulchral monuments\nof Athens.\n\n\"The wind,\" he says, \"which blows from the tombs of the ancients comes\nwith gentle breath as over a mound of roses. The reliefs are touching\nand pathetic, and always represent life. There stand father and mother,\ntheir son between them, gazing at one another with unspeakable truth to\nnature. Here a pair clasp hands. Here a father seems to rest on his\ncouch and wait to be entertained by his family. To me the presence of\nthese scenes was very touching. Their art is of a late period, yet are\nthey simple, natural, and of universal interest. Here there is no knight\nin harness on his knees awaiting a joyful resurrection. The artist has\nwith more or less skill presented to us only the persons themselves, and\nso made their existence lasting and perpetual. They fold not their\nhands, gaze not into heaven; they are on earth, what they were and what\nthey are. They stand side by side, take interest in one another; and\nthat is what is in the stone, even though somewhat unskilfully, yet most\npleasingly depicted.\" [Footnote: From Goethe's \"Italienische Reise.\" I\ntake this translation (by permission) from Percy Gardner's \"New Chapters\nin Greek History\", p. 319.]\n\nAs a further illustration of the same point an epitaph may be quoted\nequally striking for its simple human feeling and for its absence of any\nsuggestion of a continuance of the life of the dead. \"Farewell\" is the\nfirst and last word; no hint of a \"joyful resurrection.\"\n\n\"Farewell, tomb of Melite; the best of women lies here, who loved her\nloving husband, Onesimus; thou wert most excellent, wherefore he longs\nfor thee after thy death, for thou wert the best of wives.--Farewell,\nthou too, dearest husband, only love my children.\"\n\nBut however characteristic this attitude of the Greeks may appear to be,\nespecially by contrast with the Christian view, it would be a mistake to\nsuppose that it was the only one with which they were acquainted, or\nthat they had put aside altogether, as indifferent or insoluble, the\nwhole problem of a future world. As we have seen, they did believe in\nthe survival of the spirit, and in a world of shades ruled by Pluto and\nPersephone. They had legends of a place of bliss for the good and a\nplace of torment for the wicked; and if this conception did not haunt\ntheir mind, as it haunted that of the mediaeval Christian, yet at times\nit was certainly present to them, with terror or with hope. That the\nGreek was not unacquainted with the fear of hell we know from the\npassage of Plato, part of which we have already quoted, where in\nspeaking of the mendicant prophets who professed to make atonement for\nsin he says that their ministrations \"are equally at the service of the\nliving and the dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and they\nredeem us from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one knows\nwhat awaits us.\" And on the other hand we hear, as early as the date of\nthe Odyssey, of the Elysian fields reserved for the souls of the\nfavourites of the gods.\n\nThe Greeks, then, were not without hope and fear concerning the world to\ncome, however little these feelings may have coloured their daily life;\nand there was one phase of their religion, which appears to have been\nspecially occupied with this theme. In almost every Greek city we hear\nof \"mysteries\", the most celebrated being, of course, those of Eleusis\nin Attica. What exactly these \"mysteries\" were we are very imperfectly\ninformed; but so much, at least, is clear that by means of a scenic\nsymbolism, representing the myth of Demeter and Kore or of Dionysus\nZagreus, hopes were held out to the initiated not only of a happy life\non earth, but of a happy immortality beyond. \"Blessed,\" says Pindar,\n\"blessed is he who has seen these things before he goes under the hollow\nearth. He knows the end of life, and he knows its god-given origin.\" And\nit is presumably to the initiated that the same poet promises the joys\nof his thoroughly Greek heaven. \"For them,\" he says, \"shineth below the\nstrength of the sun while in our world it is night, and the space of\ncrimson-flowered meadows before their city is full of the shade of\nfrankincense trees, and of fruits of gold. And some in horses, and in\nbodily feats, and some in dice, and some in harp-playing have delight;\nand among them thriveth all fair-flowering bliss; and fragrance\nstreameth ever through the lovely land, as they mingle incense of every\nkind upon the altars of the gods.\" [Footnote: Pindar, Thren. I.--\nTranslation by E. Myers.]\n\nThe Greeks, then, were not unfamiliar with the conception of heaven and\nhell: only, and that is the point to which we must return and on which\nwe must insist, the conception did not dominate and obsess their mind.\nThey may have had their spasms of terror, but these they could easily\nrelieve by the performance of some atoning ceremony; they may have had\ntheir thrills of hope, but these they would only indulge at the crisis\nof some imposing ritual.\n\nThe general tenor of their life does not seem to have been affected by\nspeculations about the world beyond. Of age indeed and of death they had\na horror proportional to their acute and sensitive enjoyment of life;\nbut their natural impulse was to turn for consolation to the interests\nand achievements of the world they knew, and to endeavour to soothe, by\nmemories and hopes of deeds future and past, the inevitable pains of\nfailure and decay.\n\n\nSection 12. Critical and Sceptical Opinion in Greece.\n\nAnd now let us turn to a point for which perhaps some readers have long\nbeen waiting, and with which they may have expected us to begin rather\nthan to end. So far, in considering the part played by religion in Greek\nLife, we have assumed the position of orthodoxy. We have endeavoured to\nplace ourselves at the standpoint of the man who did not criticise or\nreflect, but accepted simply, as a matter of course, the tradition\nhanded down to him by his fathers. Only so, if at all, was it possible\nfor us to detach ourselves from our habitual preconceptions, and to\nregard the pagan mythology not as a graceful invention of the poets, but\nas a serious and, at the time, a natural and inevitable way of looking\nat the world. Now, however, it is time to turn to the other side, and to\nconsider the Greek religion as it appeared to contemporary critics. For\ncritics there were, and sceptics, or rather, to put it more exactly,\nthere was a critical age succeeding an age of faith. As we trace,\nhowever imperfectly, the development of the Greek mind, we can observe\ntheir intellect and their moral sense expanding beyond the limits of\ntheir creed. Either as sympathetic, though candid, friends, or as avowed\nenemies, they bring to light its contradictions and defects; and as a\nresult of the process one of two things happens. Either the ancient\nconception of the gods is transformed in the direction of monotheism, or\nit is altogether swept away, and a new system of the world built up, on\nthe basis of natural science or of philosophy. These tendencies of\nthought we must now endeavour to trace; for we should have formed but an\nimperfect idea of the scope of the religious consciousness of the Greeks\nif we confined ourselves to what we may call their orthodox faith. It is\nin their most critical thinkers, in Euripides and Plato, that the\nreligious sense is most fully and keenly developed; and it is in the\nphilosophy that supervened upon the popular creed, rather than in the\npopular creed itself, that we shall find the highest and most spiritual\nreaches of their thought.\n\nLet us endeavour, then, in the first place to realise to ourselves how\nthe Greek religion must have appeared to one who approached it not from\nthe side of unthinking acquiescence, but with the idea of discovering\nfor himself how far it really met the needs and claims of the intellect\nand the moral sense. Let us imagine him turning to his Homer, to those\npoems which were the Bible of the Greek, his ultimate appeal both in\nreligion and in ethics; which were taught in the schools, quoted in the\nlaw-courts, recited in the streets; and from which the teacher drew his\nmoral instances, the rhetorician his allusions, the artist his models,\nevery man his conception of the gods. Let us imagine some candid and\ningenuous youth, turning to his Homer and repeating, say, the following\npassage of the Iliad:--\n\n\"Among the other gods fell grievous bitter strife, and their hearts were\ncarried diverse in their breasts. And they clashed together with a great\nnoise, and the wide earth groaned, and the clarion of great Heaven rang\naround. Zeus heard as he sate upon Olympus, and his heart within him\nlaughed pleasantly when he beheld that strife of the gods.\" [Footnote:\nIliad xxi. 385.--Translated by Lang, Leaf and Myers.]\n\nAt this point, let us suppose, the reader pauses to reflect; and is\nstruck, for the first time, with a shock of surprise by the fact that\nthe gods should be not only many but opposed; and opposed on what issue?\na purely human one! a war between Greeks and Trojans for the possession\nof a beautiful woman! Into such a contest the immortal gods descend,\nfight with human weapons, and dispute in human terms! Where is the\nsingle purpose that should mark the divine will? where the repose of the\nwisdom that foreordained and knows the end? Not, it is clear, in this\nmotley array of capricious and passionate wills! Then, perhaps, in Zeus,\nZeus, who is lord of all? He, at least, will impose upon this mob of\nrecalcitrant deities the harmony which the pious soul demands. He, whose\nrod shakes the sky, will arise and assert the law. He, in his majesty,\nwill speak the words--alas! what words! Let us take them straight from\nthe lips of the King of gods and men:--\n\n\"Hearken to me, all gods and all ye goddesses, that I may tell you that\nmy heart within my breast commandeth me. One thing let none essay, be it\ngoddess or be it god, to wit, to thwart my saying; approve ye it all\ntogether, that with all speed I may accomplish these things. Whomsoever\nI shall perceive minded to go, apart from the gods, to succour Trojans\nor Danaans, chastened in no seemly wise shall he return to Olympus, or I\nwill take and cast him into misty Tartaros, right far away, where is the\ndeepest gulf beneath the earth; there are the gate of iron and threshold\nof bronze, as far beneath Hades as heaven is high above the earth: then\nshall ye know how far I am mightiest of all gods. Go to now, ye gods,\nmake trial that ye all may know. Fasten ye a rope of gold from heaven,\nand all ye gods lay hold thereof and all goddesses; yet could ye not\ndrag from heaven to earth Zeus, counsellor supreme, not though ye toiled\nsore. But once I likewise were minded to draw with all my heart, then\nshould I draw ye up with very earth and sea withal. Thereafter would I\nbind the rope about a pinnacle of Olympus, and so should all those\nthings be hung in air. By so much am I beyond gods and beyond men.\"\n[Footnote: Iliad viii. 5.--Translated by Lang, Leaf and Myers.]\n\nAnd is that all? In the divine tug of war Zeus is more than a match for\nall the other gods together! Is it on this that the lordship of heaven\nand earth depends? This that we are to worship as highest, we of the\nbrain and heart and soul? And even so, even admitting the ground of\nsupremacy, with what providence or consistency of purpose is it\nexercised? Why, Zeus himself is as capricious as the rest! Because\nThetis comes whining to him about an insult put upon Achilles, he\ninterferes to change the whole course of the war, and that too by means\nof a lying dream! Even his own direct decrees he can hardly be induced\nto observe. His son Sarpedon, for example, who is \"fated,\" as he says\nhimself, to die, he is yet at the last moment in half a mind to save\nalive! How is such division possible in the will of the supreme god? Or\nis the \"fate\" of which he speaks something outside himself? But if so,\nthen above him! and if above him, what is he? Not, after all, the\nhighest, not the supreme at all! What then _are_ we to worship?\nWhat _is_ this higher \"fate?\"\n\nSuch would be the kind of questions that would vex our candid youth when\nhe approached his Homer from the side of theology. Nor would he fare any\nbetter if he took the ethical point of view. The gods, he would find,\nwho should surely at least attain to the human standard, not only are\ncapable of every phase of passion, anger, fear, jealousy and, above all,\nlove, but indulge them all with a verve and an abandonment that might\nmake the boldest libertine pause. Zeus himself, for example, expends\nupon the mere catalogue of his amours a good twelve lines of hexameter\nverse. No wonder that Hera is jealous, and that her lord is driven to\nput her down in terms better suited to the lips of mortal husbands:\n\n\"Lady, ever art thou imagining, nor can I escape thee; yet shalt thou in\nno wise have power to fulfil, but wilt be the further from my heart;\nthat shall be even the worse for thee. Hide thou in silence and hearken\nto my bidding, lest all the gods that are in Olympus keep not off from\nthee my visitation, when I put forth my hands unapproachable against\nthee.\" [Footnote: Iliad i. 560.--Translated by Leaf, Lang and Myers.]\n\n\nSection 13. Ethical Criticism.\n\nThe incongruity of all this with any adequate conception of deity is\npatent, if once the critical attitude be adopted; and it was adopted by\nsome of the clearest and most religious minds of Greece. Nay, even\northodoxy itself did not refrain from a genial and sympathetic\ncriticism. Aristophanes, for example, who, if there had been an\nestablished church, would certainly have been described as one of its\nmain pillars, does not scruple to represent his Birds as issuing--\n\n     \"A warning and notices, formally given,\n     To Jove, and all others residing in heaven,\n     Forbidding them ever to venture again\n     To trespass on our atmospheric domain,\n     With scandalous journeys, to visit a list\n     Of Alcmenas and Semeles; if they persist,\n     We warn them that means will be taken moreover\n     To stop their gallanting and acting the lover,\"\n          [Footnote: Aristophanes, \"Birds\" 556.--Translation by Frere.]\n\nand Heracles the glutton, and Dionysus, the dandy and the coward, are\nfamiliar figures of his comic stage. The attitude of Aristophanes, it is\ntrue, is not really critical, but sympathetic; it was no more his\nintention to injure the popular creed by his fun than it is the\nintention of the cartoons of Punch to undermine the reputation of our\nleading statesmen. On the contrary, nothing popularises like genial\nridicule; and of this Aristophanes was well aware. But the same\ncharacteristics of the god which suggested the friendly burlesque of the\ncomedian were also those which provoked the indignation and the disgust\nof more serious minds. The poet Pindar, for example, after referring to\nthe story of a battle, in which it was said gods had fought against\ngods, breaks out into protest against a legend so little creditable to\nthe divine nature:--\" O my mouth, fling this tale from thee, for to\nspeak evil of gods is a hateful wisdom, and loud and unmeasured words\nstrike a note that trembleth upon madness. Of such things talk thou not;\nleave war and all strife of immortals aside.\" [Footnote: Pind. Ol. IX\n54.--Translation by E. Myers.] And the same note is taken up with\nemphasis, and reiterated in every quality of tone, by such writers as\nEuripides and Plato.\n\nThe attitude of Euripides towards the popular religion is so clearly and\nfrankly critical that a recent writer has even gone so far as to\nmaintain that his main object in the construction of his dramas was to\ndiscredit the myths he selected for his theme. However that may have\nbeen, it is beyond controversy true that the deep religious sense of\nthis most modern of the Greeks was puzzled and repelled by the tales he\nwas bound by tradition to dramatize; and that he put into the mouth of\nhis characters reflexions upon the conduct of the gods which if they may\nnot be taken as his own deliberate opinions, are at least expressions of\none aspect of his thought. It was, in fact, impossible to reconcile with\na profound and philosophic view of the divine nature the intrigues and\namours, partialities, antipathies, actions and counter-actions of these\nanthropomorphic deities. Consider, for example, the most famous of all\nthe myths, that of Orestes, to which we have already referred. Orestes,\nit will be remembered, was the son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.\nAgamemnon, on his return from Troy, was murdered by Clytemnestra.\nOrestes escapes; but returns later, at the instigation of Apollo, and\nkills his mother to avenge his father. Thereupon, in punishment for his\ncrime, he is persecuted by the Furies. Now the point which Euripides\nseizes here is the conduct of Apollo. Either it was right for Orestes to\nkill his mother, or it was wrong. If wrong, why did Apollo command it?\nIf right, why was Orestes punished? Or are there, as Aeschylus would\nhave it, two \"rights\", one of Apollo, the other of the Furies? If so,\nwhat becomes of that unity of the divine law after which every religious\nnature seeks? \"Phoebus,\" cries the Orestes of Euripides, \"prophet though\nhe be, deceived me. I gave him my all, I killed my mother in obedience\nto his command; and in return I am undone myself.\" [Footnote: Euripides,\nIph. Taur. 711] The dilemma is patent; and Euripides makes no serious\nattempt to meet it.\n\nOr again, to take another example, less familiar, but even more to the\npoint--the tale of Ion and Creusa. Creusa has been seduced by Apollo and\nhas borne him a child, the Ion of the story. This child she exposes, and\nit is conveyed by Hermes to Delphi, where at last it is found, and\nrecognised by the mother, and a conventionally happy ending is patched\nup. But the point on which the poet has insisted throughout is, once\nmore, the conduct of Apollo. What is to be made of a god who seduces and\ndeserts a mortal woman; who suffers her to expose her child, and leaves\nher in ignorance of its fate? Does he not deserve the reproaches heaped\nupon him by his victim?--\n\n     \"Child of Latona, I cry to the sun--I will publish\n                          thy shame!\n      Thou with thy tresses a-shimmer with gold, through the\n                          flowers as I came\n      Plucking the crocuses, heaping my veil with their gold-\n                          litten flame,\n      Cam'st on me, caughtest the poor pallid wrists of mine\n                          hands, and didst hale\n      Unto thy couch in the cave. 'Mother! mother!' I\n                          shrieked out my wail--\n      Wroughtest the pleasure of Kypris; no shame made the\n                          god-lover quail.\n      Wretched I bare thee a child, and I cast him with\n                          shuddering throe\n      Forth on thy couch where thou forcedst thy victim, a\n                           bride-bed of woe.\n      Lost--my poor baby and thine! for the eagles devoured\n                           him: and lo!\n      Victory-songs to thy lyre dost thou chant!--Ho, I\n                           call to thee, son\n      Born to Latona, Dispenser of boding, on gold-gleaming\n                           throne\n      Midmost of earth who art sitting:--thine ears shall be\n                           pierced with my moan!\n      Thy Delos doth hate thee, thy bay-boughs abhor thee,\n      By the palm-tree of feathery frondage that rose\n      Where in sacred travail Latona bore thee\n            In Zeus's garden close.\"\n          [Footnote: Euripid. Ion, 885.--Translated by A. S. Way.]\n\nThis is a typical example of the kind of criticism which Euripides\nconveys through the lips of his characters on the stage. And the points\nwhich he can only dramatically suggest, Plato expounds directly in his\nown person. The quarrel of the philosopher with the myths is not that\nthey are not true, but that they are not edifying. They represent the\nson in rebellion against the father--Zeus against Kronos, Kronos against\nUranos; they describe the gods as intriguing and fighting one against\nthe other; they depict them as changing their form divine into the\nsemblance of mortal men; lastly--culmination of horror!--they represent\nthem as laughing, positively laughing!--Or again, to turn to a more\nmetaphysical point, if God be good, it is argued by Plato, he cannot be\nthe author of evil. What then, are we to make of the passage in Homer\nwhere he says, \"two urns stand upon the floor of Zeus filled with his\nevil gifts, and one with blessings. To whomsoever Zeus whose joy is in\nthe lightning dealeth a mingled lot, that man chanceth now upon ill and\nnow again on good, but to whom he giveth but of the bad kind, him he\nbringeth to scorn, and evil famine chaseth him over the goodly earth,\nand he is a wanderer honoured of neither gods nor men.\" [Footnote: Il.\nxxiv. 527--Translated by Lang, Leaf and Myers.]\n\nAnd again, if God be true, he cannot be the author of lies. How then\ncould he have sent, as we are told he did, lying dreams to men?--\nClearly, concludes the philosopher, our current legends need revision;\nin the interest of religion itself we must destroy the myths of the\npopular creed.\n\n\nSection 14. Transition to Monotheism.\n\nThe myths, but not religion! The criticism certainly of Plato and\nprobably of Euripides was prompted by the desire not to discredit\naltogether the belief in the gods, but to bring it into harmony with the\nrequirements of a more fully developed consciousness. The philosopher\nand the poet came not to destroy, but to fulfil; not to annihilate but\nto transform the popular theology. Such an intention, strange as it may\nappear to us with our rigid creeds, we shall see to be natural enough to\nthe Greek mind, when we remember that the material of their religion was\nnot a set of propositions, but a more or less indeterminate body of\ntraditions capable of being presented in the most various forms as the\ngenius and taste of individual poets might direct. And we find, in fact,\nthat the most religious poets of Greece, those even who were most\ninnocent of any intention to innovate on popular beliefs, did\nnevertheless unconsciously tend to transform, in accordance with their\nown conceptions, the whole structure of the Homeric theology. Taking\nover the legends of gods and heroes, as narrated in poetry and\ntradition, the earlier tragedians, Aeschylus and Sophocles, as they\nshaped and reshaped their material for the stage, were evolving for\nthemselves, not in opposition to but as it were on the top of the\npolytheistic view, the idea of a single supreme and righteous God. The\nZeus of Homer, whose superiority, as we saw, was based on physical\nforce, grows, under the hands of Aeschylus, into something akin to the\nJewish Jehovah. The inner experience of the poet drives him inevitably\nto this transformation. Born into the great age of Greece, coming to\nmaturity at the crisis of her fate, he had witnessed with his own eyes,\nand assisted with his own hands the defeat of the Persian host at\nMarathon. The event struck home to him like a judgment from heaven. The\nNemesis that attends upon human pride, the vengeance that follows crime,\nhenceforth were the thoughts that haunted and possessed his brain; and\nunder their influence he evolved for himself out of the popular idea of\nZeus the conception of a God of justice who marks and avenges crime.\nRead for example the following passage from the \"Agamemnon\" and contrast\nit with the lines of Homer quoted on page 42. Nothing could illustrate\nmore strikingly the transformation that could be effected, under the\nconditions of the Greek religion, in the whole conception of the divine\npower by one whose conscious intention, nevertheless, was not to\ninnovate but to conserve.\n\n     \"Zeus the high God! Whate'er be dim in doubt,\n               This can our thought track out--\n      The blow that fells the sinner is of God,\n               And as he wills, the rod\n      Of vengeance smiteth sore. One said of old\n              'The Gods list not to hold\n      A reckoning with him whose feet oppress\n               The grace of holiness'--\n      An impious word! for whensoe'er the sire\n               Breathed forth rebellious fire--\n      What time his household overflows the measure\n              Of bliss and health and treasure--\n      His children's children read the reckoning plain,\n             At last, in tears and pain.\n            *       *       *       *       *\n      Who spurns the shrine of Right, nor wealth nor power\n             Shall be to him a tower,\n      To guard him from the gulf: there lies his lot,\n             Where all things are forgot.\n      Lust drives him on--lust, desperate and wild\n             Fate's sin-contriving child--\n      And cure is none; beyond concealment clear\n             Kindles sin's baleful glare.\n      As an ill coin beneath the wearing touch\n             Betrays by stain and smutch\n      Its metal false--such is the sinful wight.\n             Before, on pinions light,\n      Fair pleasure flits, and lures him childlike on,\n             While home and kin make moan\n      Beneath the grinding burden of his crime;\n             Till, in the end of time,\n      Cast down of heaven, he pours forth fruitless prayer\n             To powers that will not hear.\"\n          [Footnote: Aesch. Agamem. 367.--Translated by E. D. A.\n          Morshead (\"The House of Atreus\").]\n\nAnd Sophocles follows in the same path. For him too Zeus is no longer\nthe god of physical strength; he is the creator and sustainer of the\nmoral law--of \"those laws of range sublime, called into life throughout\nthe high clear heaven, whose father is Olympus alone; their parent was\nno race of mortal men, no, nor shall oblivion ever lay them to sleep; a\nmighty god is in them, and he grows not old.\" [Footnote: Soph. O.T.\n865.--Translated by Dr. Jebb.] Such words imply a complete\ntransformation of the Homeric conception of Divinity; a transformation\nmade indeed in the interests of religion, but involving nevertheless,\nand contrary, no doubt, to the intention of its authors, a complete\nsubversion of the popular creed. Once grant the idea of God as an\neternal and moral Power and the whole fabric of polytheism falls away.\nThe religion of the Greeks, as interpreted by their best minds,\nannihilates itself. Zeus indeed is saved, but only at the cost of all\nOlympus.\n\n\nSection 15. Metaphysical Criticism.\n\nWhile thus, on the one hand, the Greek religion by its inner evolution,\nwas tending to destroy itself, on the other hand it was threatened from\nwithout by the attack of what we should call the \"scientific spirit.\" A\nsystem so frankly anthropomorphic was bound to be weak on the\nspeculative side. Its appeal, as we have seen, was rather to the\nimagination than to the intellect, by the presentation of a series of\nbeautiful images, whose contemplation might offer to the mind if not\nsatisfaction, at least acquiescence and repose. A Greek who was not too\ninquisitive was thus enabled to move through the calendar of splendid\nfestivals and fasts, charmed by the beauty of the ritual, inspired by\nthe chorus and the dance, and drawing from the familiar legends the\nmoral and aesthetic significance with which he had been accustomed from\nhis boyhood to connect them, but without ever raising the question, Is\nall this true? Does it really account for the existence and nature of\nthe world? Once, however, the spell was broken, once the intellect was\naroused, the inadequacy of the popular faith, on the speculative side,\nbecame apparent; and the mind turned aside altogether from religion to\nwork out its problems on its own lines. We find accordingly, from early\ntimes, physical philosophers in Greece free from all theological\npreconceptions, raising from the very beginning the question of the\norigin of the world, and offering solutions, various indeed but all\nalike in this, that they frankly accept a materialistic basis. One\nderives all things from water, another from air, another from fire; one\ninsists upon unity, another on a plurality of elements; but all alike\nreject the supernatural, and proceed on the lines of physical causation.\n\nThe opposition, to use the modern phrase, between science and religion,\nwas thus developed early in ancient Greece; and by the fifth century it\nis clear that it had become acute. The philosopher Anaxagoras was driven\nfrom Athens as an atheist; the same charge, absurdly enough, was one of\nthe counts in the indictment of Socrates; and the physical speculations\nof the time are a favourite butt of that champion of orthodoxy,\nAristophanes. To follow up these speculations in detail would be to\nwander too far from our present purpose; but it may be worth while to\nquote a passage from the great comedian, to illustrate not indeed the\nvalue of the theories ridiculed, but their generally materialistic\ncharacter, and their antagonism to the popular faith. The passage\nselected is part of a dialogue between Socrates and Strepsiades, one of\nhis pupils; and it is introduced by an address from the chorus of\n\"Clouds\", the new divinities of the physicist:\n\nCHORUS OF CLOUDS.\n\n     Our welcome to thee, old man, who would see the marvels that\n                                            science can show:\n     And thou, the high-priest of this subtlety feast, say what would\n                                            you have us bestow?\n     Since there is not a sage for whom we'd engage our wonders\n                                            more freely to do,\n     Except, it may be, for Prodicus: he for his knowledge may claim\n                                            them, but you,\n     Because as you go, you glance to and fro, and in dignified\n                                            arrogance float;\n     And think shoes a disgrace, and put on a grave face, your\n                              acquaintance with us to denote.\n\n   STREPSIADES. Oh earth! what a sound, how august and profound! It\n                                       fills me with wonder and awe.\n\n   SOCRATES. These, these then alone, for true Deities own, the rest\n                                       are all God-ships of straw.\n\n   STREPS. Let Zeus be left out: He's a God beyond doubt; come, that\n                                       you can scarcely deny.\n\n   SOCR. Zeus indeed! there's no Zeus: don't you be so obtuse.\n\n   STREPS.           No Zeus up above in the sky?\n       Then you first must explain, who it is sends the rain; or I\n                               really must think you are wrong.\n\n   SOCR. Well then, be it known, these send it alone: I can prove it\n                               by argument strong.\n     Was there ever a shower seen to fall in an hour when the sky\n                               was all cloudless and blue?\n     Yet on a fine day, when the clouds are away, he might send\n                               one, according to you.\n\n   STREPS. Well, it must be confessed, that chimes in with the rest:\n                               your words I am forced to believe.\n\n     Yet before I had dreamed that the rain-water streamed from\n                               Zeus and his chamber-pot sieve.\n     But whence then, my friend, does the thunder descend? that\n                               does make us quake with affright!\n\n   SOCR. Why, 'tis they, I declare, as they roll through the air.\n\n   STREPS. What the clouds? did I hear you aright?\n\n   SOCR. Ay: for when to the brim filled with water they swim, by\n                               Necessity carried along,\n     They are hung up on high in the vault of the sky, and so by\n                               Necessity strong\n     In the midst of their course, they clash with great force, and\n                               thunder away without end.\n\n   STREPS. But is it not He who compels this to be? does not Zeus this\n                               Necessity send?\n\n   SOCR. No Zeus have we there, but a vortex of air.\n\n   STREPS. What! Vortex? that's something I own.\n     I knew not before, that Zeus was no more, but Vortex was\n                               placed on his throne!\n     But I have not yet heard to what cause you referred the thunder's\n                               majestical roar.\n\n   SOCR. Yes, 'tis they, when on high full of water they fly, and then,\n                               as I told you before,\n     By compression impelled, as they clash, are compelled a terrible\n                               clatter to make.\n\n   STREPS. Come, how can that be? I really don't see.\n\n   SOCR. Yourself as my proof I will take.\n     Have you never then ate the broth puddings you get when the\n                               Panathenaea come round,\n     And felt with what might your bowels all night in turbulent tumult\n                               resound\n\n   STREPS. By Apollo, 'tis true, there's a mighty to do, and my belly\n                               keeps rumbling about;\n     And the puddings begin to clatter within and to kick up a wonderful\n                               rout:\n     Quite gently at first, papapax, papapax, but soon papappappax away,\n     Till at last, I'll be bound, I can thunder as loud\n                               papapappappappappax as they.\n\n   SOCR. Shalt thou then a sound so loud and profound from thy belly\n                               diminutive send,\n     And shall not the high and the infinite sky go thundering on\n                               without end?\n     For both, you will find, on an impulse of wind and similar causes\n                               depend.\n\n   STREPS. Well, but tell me from whom comes the bolt through the gloom,\n                               with its awful and terrible flashes;\n     And wherever it turns, some it singes and burns, and some it\n                               reduces to ashes:\n     For this 'tis quite plain, let who will send the rain, that Zeus\n                               against perjurers dashes\n\n   SOCR. And how, you old fool, of a dark-ages school, and an\n                               antidiluvian wit,\n     If the perjured they strike, and not all men alike, have they\n                               never Cleonymus hit?\n     Then of Simon again, and Theorus explain: known perjurers, yet\n                               they escape.\n     But he smites his own shrine with these arrows divine, and\n                               \"Sunium, Attica's cape,\"\n     And the ancient gnarled oaks: now what prompted those strokes?\n                               They never forswore I should say.\n\n   STREPS. Can't say that they do: your words appear true. Whence comes\n                               then the thunderbolt, pray?\n\n   SOCR. When a wind that is dry, being lifted on high, is suddenly pent\n                               into these,\n     It swells up their skin, like a bladder, within, by Necessity's\n                               changeless decrees:\n     Till compressed very tight, it bursts them outright, and away\n                               with an impulse so strong,\n     That at last by the force and the swing of the course, it takes\n                               fire as it whizzes along.\n\n   STREPS. That's exactly the thing, that I suffered one spring, at the\n                               great feast of Zeus, I admit:\n     I'd a paunch in the pot, but I wholly forgot about making the\n                               safety-valve slit.\n     So it spluttered and swelled, while the saucepan I held, till at\n                               last with a vengeance it flew:\n     Took me quite by surprise, dung-bespattered my eyes, and scalded\n                               my face black and blue!\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. \"Clouds\" 358.--Translation by B. B.\n          Rogers.]\n\nNothing could be more amusing than this passage as a burlesque of the\nphysical theories of the time; and nothing could better illustrate the\nquarrel between science and religion, as it presents itself on the\nsurface to the plain man. But there is more in the quarrel than appears\nat first sight. The real sting of the comedy from which we have quoted\nlies in the assumption, adopted throughout the play, that the atheist is\nalso necessarily anti-social and immoral. The physicist, in the person\nof Socrates, is identified with the sophist; on the one hand he is\nrepresented as teaching the theory of material causation, on the other\nthe art of lying and deceit. The object of Strepsiades in attending the\nschool is to learn how not to pay his debts; the achievement of his son\nis to learn how to dishonour his father. The cult of reason is\nidentified by the poet with the cult of self-interest; the man who does\nnot believe in the gods cannot, he implies, believe in the family or the\nstate.\n\n\nSection 16. Metaphysical Reconstruction--Plato.\n\nThe argument is an old one into whose merits this is not the place to\nenter. But one thing is certain, that the sceptical spirit which was\ninvading religion, was invading also politics and ethics; and that\ntowards the close of the fifth century before Christ, Greece and in\nparticular Athens was overrun by philosophers, who not only did not\nscruple to question the foundations of social and moral obligation, but\nin some cases explicitly taught that there were no foundations at all;\nthat all law was a convention based on no objective truth; and that the\nonly valid right was the natural right of the strong to rule. It was\ninto this chaos of sceptical opinion that Plato was born; and it was the\ndesire to meet and subdue it that was the motive of his philosophy. Like\nAristophanes, he traced the root of the evil to the decay of religious\nbelief; and though no one, as we have seen, was more trenchant than he\nin his criticism of the popular faith, no one, on the other hand, was\nmore convinced of the necessity of some form of religion as a basis for\nany stable polity. The doctrine of the physicists, he asserts, that the\nworld is the result of \"nature and chance\" has immediate and disastrous\neffects on the whole structure of social beliefs. The conclusion\ninevitably follows that human laws and institutions, like everything\nelse, are accidental products; that they have no objective validity, no\nbinding force on the will; and that the only right that has any\nintelligible meaning is the right which is identical with might.\n[Footnote: See e.g. Plato's \"Laws\". X. 887.] Against these conclusions\nthe whole soul of Plato rose in revolt. To reconstruct religion, he was\ndriven back upon metaphysics; and elaborated at last the system which\nfrom his day to our own has not ceased to perplex and fascinate the\nworld, and whose rare and radiant combination of gifts, speculative,\nartistic, and religious, marks the highest reach of the genius of the\nGreeks, and perhaps of mankind. To attempt an analysis of that system\nwould lead us far from our present task. All that concerns us here, is\nits religious significance; and of that, all we can note is that Plato,\nthe deepest thinker of the Greeks, was also among the farthest removed\nfrom the popular faith. The principle from which he derives the World is\nthe absolute Good, or God, of whose ideas the phenomena of sense are\nimperfect copies. To the divine intelligence man by virtue of his reason\nis akin. But the reason in him has fallen into bondage of the flesh; and\nit is the task of his life on earth, or rather of a series of lives (for\nPlato believed in successive re-incarnations), to deliver this diviner\nelement of his soul, and set it free to re-unite with God.\n\nTo the description of the divine life thus prepared for the soul, from\nwhich she fell but to which she may return, Plato has devoted some of\nhis finest passages; and if we are to indicate, as we are bound to do,\nthe highest point to which the religious consciousness of the Greeks\nattained, we must not be deterred, by dread of the obscurity necessarily\nattaching to an extract, from a citation from the most impassioned of\nhis dialogues. Speaking of that \"divine madness,\" to which we have\nalready had occasion to refer, he says that this is the madness which\n\"is imputed to him who, when he sees the beauty of earth, is transported\nwith the recollection of the true beauty; he would like to fly away, but\nhe cannot; he is like a bird fluttering and looking upward and careless\nof the world below; and he is therefore thought to be mad. And I have\nshown this of all inspirations to be the noblest and highest and the\noff-spring of the highest to him who has or shares in it, and that he\nwho loves the beautiful is called a lover because he partakes of it. For\nevery soul of man has in the way of nature beheld true being; this was\nthe condition of her passing into the form of man. But all souls do not\neasily recall the things of the other world; they may have seen them for\na short time only, or they may have been unfortunate in their earthly\nlot, and having had their hearts turned to unrighteousness through some\ncorrupting influence, they may have lost the memory of the holy things\nwhich once they saw. Few only retain an adequate remembrance of them;\nand they, when they behold here any image of that other world, are rapt\nin amazement; but they are ignorant of what that rapture means, because\nthey do not clearly perceive. For there is no clear light of justice or\ntemperance, or any of the higher ideas which are precious to souls, in\nthe earthly copies of them: they are seen through a glass dimly; and\nthere are few who, going to the images, behold in them the realities,\nand these only with difficulty. There was a time when, with the rest of\nthe happy band, they saw beauty shining in brightness--we philosophers\nfollowing in the train of Zeus, others in company with other gods; and\nthen we beheld the beatific vision and were initiated into a mystery\nwhich may be truly called most blessed, celebrated by us in our state of\ninnocence, before we had any experience of evils to come, when we were\nadmitted to the sight of apparitions innocent and simple and calm and\nhappy, which we beheld shining in pure light, pure ourselves and not yet\nenshrined in that living tomb which we carry about, now that we are\nimprisoned in the body, like an oyster in his shell. Let me linger over\nthe memory of scenes which have passed away.\" [Footnote: Plato,\nPhaedrus. 249d.--Jowett's translation.]\n\n\nSection 17. Summary.\n\nAt this point, where religion passes into philosophy, the discussion\nwhich has occupied the present chapter must close. So far it was\nnecessary to proceed, in order to show how wide was the range of the\nreligious consciousness of the Greeks, and through how many points of\nview it passed in the course of its evolution. But its development was\naway from the Greek and towards the Christian; and it will therefore be\ndesirable, in conclusion, to fix once more in our minds that central and\nprimary phase of the Greek religion under the influence of which their\ncivilisation was formed into a character definite and distinct in the\nhistory of the world. This phase will be the one which underlay and was\nreflected in the actual cult and institutions of Greece and must\ntherefore be regarded not as a product of critical and self-conscious\nthought, but as an imaginative way of conceiving the world stamped as it\nwere passively on the mind by the whole course of concrete experience.\nOf its character we have attempted to give some kind of account in the\nearlier part of this chapter, and we have now only to summarise what was\nthere said.\n\nThe Greek religion, then, as we saw, in this its characteristic phase,\ninvolved a belief in a number of deities who on the one hand were\npersonifications of the powers of nature and of the human soul, on the\nother the founders and sustainers of civil society. To the operations of\nthese beings the whole of experience was referred, and that, not merely\nin an abstract and unintelligible way, as when we say that the world was\ncreated by God, but in a quite precise and definite sense, the action of\nthe gods being conceived to be the same in kind as that of man,\nproceeding from similar motives, directed to similar ends, and\naccomplished very largely by similar, though much superior means. By\nvirtue of this uncritical and unreflective mode of apprehension the\nGreeks, we said, were made at home in the world. Their religion suffused\nand transformed the facts both of nature and of society, interpreting\nwhat would otherwise have been unintelligible by the idea of an activity\nwhich they could understand because it was one which they were\nconstantly exercising themselves. Being thus supplied with a general\nexplanation of the world, they could put aside the question of its\norigin and end, and devote themselves freely and fully to the art of\nliving, unhampered by scruples and doubts as to the nature of life.\nConsciousness similar to their own was the ultimate fact; and there was\nnothing therefore with which they might not form intelligible and\nharmonious relations.\n\nAnd as on the side of metaphysics they were delivered from the\nperplexities of speculation, so on the side of ethics they were\nundisturbed by the perplexities of conscience. Their religion, it is\ntrue, had a bearing on their conduct, but a bearing, as we saw, external\nand mechanical. If they sinned they might be punished directly by\nphysical evil; and from this evil religion might redeem them by the\nappropriate ceremonies of purgation. But on the other hand they were not\nconscious of a spiritual relation to God, of sin as an alienation from\nthe divine power and repentance as the means of restoration to grace.\nThe pangs of conscience, the fears and hopes, the triumph and despair of\nthe soul which were the preoccupations of the Puritan, were phenomena\nunknown to the ancient Greek. He lived and acted undisturbed by\nscrupulous introspection; and the function of his religion was rather to\nquiet the conscience by ritual than to excite it by admonition and\nreproof.\n\nFrom both these points of view, the metaphysical and the ethical, the\nGreeks were brought by their religion into harmony with the world.\nNeither the perplexities of the intellect nor the scruples of the\nconscience intervened to hamper their free activity. Their life was\nsimple, straightforward and clear; and their consciousness directed\noutwards upon the world, not perplexedly absorbed in the contemplation\nof itself.\n\nOn the other hand, this harmony which was the essence of the Greek\ncivilisation, was a temporary compromise, not a final solution. It\ndepended on presumptions of the imagination, not on convictions of the\nintellect; and as we have seen, it destroyed itself by the process of\nits own development. The beauty, the singleness, and the freedom which\nattracts us in the consciousness of the Greek was the result of a\npoetical view of the world, which did but anticipate in imagination an\nideal that was not realised in fact or in thought. It depended on the\nassumption of anthropomorphic gods, an assumption which could not stand\nbefore the criticism of reason, and either broke down into scepticism,\nor was developed into the conception of a single supreme and spiritual\npower.\n\nAnd even apart from this internal evolution, from this subversion of its\nideal basis, the harmony established by the Greek religion was at the\nbest but partial and incomplete. It was a harmony for life, but not for\ndeath. The more completely the Greek felt himself to be at home in the\nworld, the more happily and freely he abandoned himself to the exercise\nof his powers, the more intensely and vividly he lived in action and in\npassion, the more alien, bitter, and incomprehensible did he find the\nphenomena of age and death. On this problem, so far as we can judge, he\nreceived from his religion but little light, and still less consolation.\nThe music of his brief life closed with a discord unresolved; and even\nbefore reason had brought her criticism to bear upon his creed, its\ndeficiency was forced upon him by his feeling.\n\nThus the harmony which we have indicated as the characteristic result of\nthe Greek religion contained none of the conditions of completeness or\nfinality. For on the one hand there were elements which it was never\nable to include; and on the other, its hold even over those which it\nembraced was temporary and precarious. The eating of the tree of\nknowledge drove the Greeks from their paradise; but the vision of that\nEden continues to haunt the mind of man, not in vain, if it prophesies\nin a type the end to which his history moves.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF THE STATE\n\n\nSection 1. The Greek State a \"City.\"\n\nThe present kingdom of Greece is among the smallest of European states;\nbut to the Greeks it would have appeared too large to be a state at all.\nWithin that little peninsular whose whole population and wealth are so\ninsignificant according to modern ideas, were comprised in classical\ntimes not one but many flourishing polities. And the conception of an\namalgamation of these under a single government was so foreign to the\nGreek idea, that even to Aristotle, the clearest and most comprehensive\nthinker of his age, it did not present itself even as a dream. To him,\nas to every ancient Greek, the state meant the City--meant, that is to\nsay, an area about the size of an English county, with a population,\nperhaps, of some hundred thousand, self-governing and independent of any\nlarger political whole.\n\nIf we can imagine the various County Councils of England emancipated\nfrom the control of Parliament and set free to make their own laws,\nmanage their own finance and justice, raise troops and form with one\nanother alliances, offensive and defensive, we may form thus some\ngeneral idea of the political institutions of the Greeks and some\nmeasure of their difference from our own.\n\nNor must it be supposed that the size of the Greek state was a mere\naccident in its constitution, that it might have been indefinitely\nenlarged and yet regained its essential character. On the contrary, the\nlimitation of size belonged to its very notion. The greatest state, says\nAristotle, is not the one whose population is most numerous; on the\ncontrary, after a certain limit of increase has been passed, the state\nceases to be a state at all. \"Ten men are too few for a city; a hundred\nthousand are too many.\" Not only London, it seems, but every one of our\nlarger towns, would have been too big for the Greek idea of a state; and\nas for the British empire, the very conception of it would have been\nimpossible to the Greeks.\n\nClearly, their view on this point is fundamentally different from our\nown. Their civilisation was one of \"city-states\", not of kingdoms and\nempires; and their whole political outlook was necessarily determined by\nthis condition. Generalising from their own experience, they had formed\nfor themselves a conception of the state not the less interesting to us\nthat it is unfamiliar; and this conception it will be the business of\nthe present chapter to illustrate and explain.\n\n\nSection 2. The Relation of the State to the Citizen.\n\nFirst, let us consider the relation of the state to the citizens--that\nis to say, to that portion of the community, usually a minority, which\nwas possessed of full political rights. It is here that we have the key\nto that limitation of size which we have seen to be essential to the\nidea of the city-state. For, in the Greek view, to be a citizen of a\nstate did not merely imply the payment of taxes, and the possession of a\nvote; it implied a direct and active co-operation in all the functions\nof civil and military life. A citizen was normally a soldier, a judge,\nand a member of the governing assembly; and all his public duties he\nperformed not by deputy, but in person. He must be able frequently to\nattend the centre of government; hence the limitation of territory. He\nmust be able to speak and vote in person in the assembly; hence the\nlimitation of numbers. The idea of representative government never\noccurred to the Greeks; but if it had occurred to them, and if they had\nadopted it, it would have involved a revolution in their whole\nconception of the citizen. Of that conception, direct personal service\nwas the cardinal point--service in the field as well as in the council;\nand to substitute for personal service the mere right to a vote would\nhave been to destroy the form of the Greek state. Such being the idea\nthe Greeks had formed, based on their own experience, of the relation of\nthe citizen to the state, it follows that to them a society so complex\nas our own would hardly have answered to the definition of a state at\nall. Rather they would have regarded it as a mere congeries of\nunsatisfactory human beings, held together, partly by political, partly\nby economic compulsion, but lacking that conscious identity of interest\nwith the community to which they belong which alone constitutes the\ncitizen. A man whose main pre-occupation should be with his trade or his\nprofession, and who should only become aware of his corporate relations\nwhen called upon for his rates and taxes--a man, that is to say, in the\nposition of an ordinary Englishman--would not have seemed to the Greeks\nto be a full and proper member of a state. For the state, to them, was\nmore than a machinery, it was a spiritual bond; and \"public life\", as we\ncall it, was not a thing to be taken up and laid aside at pleasure, but\na necessary and essential phase of the existence of a complete man.\n\nThis relation of the citizen to the state, as it was conceived by the\nGreeks, is sometimes described as though it involved the sacrifice of\nthe individual to the whole. And in a certain sense, perhaps, this is\ntrue. Aristotle, for instance, declares that no one must suppose he\nbelongs to himself, but rather that all alike belong to the state; and\nPlato, in the construction of his ideal republic, is thinking much less\nof the happiness of the individual citizens, than of the symmetry and\nbeauty of the whole as it might appear to a disinterested observer from\nwithout. Certainly it would have been tedious and irksome to any but his\nown ideal philosopher to live under the rule of that perfect polity.\nIndividual enterprise, bent, and choice is rigorously excluded. Nothing\nescapes the net of legislation, from the production of children to the\nfashion of houses, clothes, and food. It is absurd, says the ruthless\nlogic of this mathematician among the poets, for one who would regulate\npublic life to leave private relations uncontrolled; if there is to be\norder at all, it must extend through and through; no moment, no detail\nmust be withdrawn from the grasp of law. And though in this, Plato, no\ndoubt, goes far beyond the common sense of the Greeks, yet he is not\nbuilding altogether in the air. The republic which he desiderates was\nrealised, as we shall see, partially at least, in Sparta. So that his\ninsistence on the all-pervading domination of the state, exaggerated\nthough it be, is exaggerated on the actual lines of Greek practice, and\nmay be taken as indicative of a real distinction and even antithesis\nbetween their point of view and that which prevails at present in most\nmodern states.\n\nBut on the other hand such a phrase as the \"sacrifice of the individual\nto the whole\", to this extent at least is misleading, that it\npresupposes an opposition between the end of the individual and that of\nthe State, such as was entirely foreign to the Greek conception. The\nbest individual, in their view, was also the best citizen; the two\nideals not only were not incompatible, they were almost\nindistinguishable. When Aristotle defines a state as \"an association of\nsimilar persons for the attainment of the best life possible\", he\nimplies not only that society is the means whereby the individual\nattains his ideal, but also that that ideal includes the functions of\npublic life. The state in his view is not merely the convenient\nmachinery that raises a man above his animal wants and sets him free to\nfollow his own devices; it is itself his end, or at least a part of it.\nAnd from this it follows that the regulations of the state were not\nregarded by the Greeks--as they are apt to be by modern men--as so many\nvexatious, if necessary, restraints on individual liberty; but rather as\nthe expression of the best and highest nature of the citizen, as the\nformula of the conduct which the good man would naturally prescribe to\nhimself. So that, to get a clear conception of what was at least the\nGreek ideal, however imperfectly it may have been attained in practice,\nwe ought to regard the individual not as sacrificed to, but rather as\nrealising himself in the whole. We shall thus come nearer to what seems\nto have been the point of view not only of Aristotle and of Plato, but\nalso of the average Greek man.\n\n\nSection 3. The Greek View of Law.\n\nFor nothing is more remarkable in the political theory of the Greeks\nthan the respect they habitually express for law. Early legislators were\nbelieved to have been specially inspired by the divine power--Lycurgus,\nfor instance, by Apollo, and Minos by Zeus; and Plato regards it as a\nfundamental condition of the well-being of any state that this view\nshould prevail among its citizens. Nor was this conception of the divine\norigin of law confined to legend and to philosophy; we find it expressed\nin the following passage of Demosthenes, addressed to a jury of average\nAthenians, and representing at any rate the conventional and orthodox,\nif not the critical view of the Greek public:\n\n\"The whole life of men, O Athenians, whether they inhabit a great city\nor a small one, is governed by nature and by laws. Of these, nature is a\nthing irregular, unequal, and peculiar to the individual possessor; laws\nare regular, common, and the same for all. Nature, if it be depraved,\nhas often vicious desires; therefore you will find people of that sort\nfalling into error. Laws desire what is just and honourable and useful;\nthey seek for this, and, when it is found, it is set forth as a general\nordinance, the same and alike for all; and that is law, which all men\nought to obey for many reasons, and especially because every law is an\ninvention and gift of the Gods, a resolution of wise men, a corrective\nof errors intentional and unintentional, a compact of the whole state,\naccording to which all who belong to the state ought to live.\"\n[Footnote: Demosth. in Aristogeit. Section 17.--Translation by C. R.\nKennedy.]\n\nIn this opposition of Law, as the universal principle, to Nature, as\nindividual caprice, is implied a tacit identification of Law and\nJustice. The identification, of course, is never complete in any state,\nand frequently enough is not even approximate. No people were more\nconscious of this than the Greeks, none, as we shall see later, pushed\nit more vigorously home. But still, the positive conception which lay at\nthe root of their society was that which finds expression in the passage\nwe have quoted, and which is stated still more explicitly in the\n\"Memorabilia\" of Xenophon, where that admirable example of the good and\nefficient citizen represents his hero Socrates as maintaining, without\nhesitation or reserve, that \"that which is in accordance with law is\njust.\" The implication, of course, is not that laws cannot be improved,\nthat they do at any point adequately correspond to justice; but that\njustice has an objective and binding validity, and that Law is a serious\nand on the whole a successful attempt to embody it in practice. This was\nthe conviction predominant in the best period of Greece; the conviction\nunder which her institutions were formed and flourished, and whose\noverthrow by the philosophy of a critical age was coincident with, if it\nwas not the cause of, her decline.\n\n\nSection 4. Artisans and Slaves.\n\nWe have now arrived at a general idea of the nature of the Greek state,\nand of its relations to the individual citizen. But there were also\nmembers of the state who were not citizens at all; there was the class\nof labourers and traders, who, in some states at least, had no political\nrights; and the class of slaves who had nowhere any rights at all. For\nin the Greek conception the citizen was an aristocrat. His excellence\nwas thought to consist in public activity; and to the performance of\npublic duties he ought therefore to be able to devote the greater part\nof his time and energy. But the existence of such a privileged class\ninvolved the existence of a class of producers to support them; and the\nproducers, by the nature of their calling, be they slave or free, were\nexcluded from the life of the perfect citizen. They had not the\nnecessary leisure to devote to public business; neither had they the\nopportunity to acquire the mental and physical qualities which would\nenable them to transact it worthily. They were therefore regarded by the\nGreeks as an inferior class; in some states, in Sparta, for example, and\nin Thebes, they were excluded from political rights; and even in Athens,\nthe most democratic of all the Greek communities, though they were\nadmitted to the citizenship and enjoyed considerable political\ninfluence, they never appear to have lost the stigma of social\ninferiority. And the distinction which was thus more or less definitely\ndrawn in practice between the citizens proper and the productive class,\nwas even more emphatically affirmed in theory. Aristotle, the most\nbalanced of all the Greek thinkers and the best exponent of the normal\ntrend of their ideas, excludes the class of artisans from the\ncitizenship of his ideal state on the ground that they are debarred by\ntheir occupation from the characteristic excellence of man. And Plato,\nthough here as elsewhere he pushes the normal view to excess, yet, in\nhis insistence on the gulf that separates the citizen from the mechanic\nand the trader, is in sympathy with the general current of Greek ideas.\nHis ideal state is one which depends mainly on agriculture; in which\ncommerce and exchange are reduced to the smallest possible dimensions;\nin which every citizen is a landowner, forbidden to engage in trade; and\nin which the productive class is excluded from all political rights. The\nobverse then, of the Greek citizen, who realised in the state his\nhighest life, was an inferior class of producers who realised only the\nmeans of subsistence. But within this class again was a distinction yet\nmore fundamental--the distinction between free men and slaves. In the\nmajority of the Greek states the slaves were the greater part of the\npopulation; in Athens, to take an extreme case, at the close of the\nfourth century, they are estimated at 400,000, to 100,000 citizens. They\nwere employed not only in domestic service, but on the fields, in\nfactories and in mines, and performed, in short, a considerable part of\nthe productive labour in the state. A whole large section, then, of the\nproducers in ancient Greece had no social or political rights at all.\nThey existed simply to maintain the aristocracy of citizens, for whom\nand in whom the state had its being. Nor was this state of things in the\nleast repugnant to the average Greek mind. Nothing is more curious to\nthe modern man than the temper in which Aristotle approaches this theme.\nWithout surprise or indignation, but in the tone of an impartial,\nscientific inquirer, he asks himself the question whether slavery is\nnatural, and answers it in the affirmative. For, he argues, though in\nany particular case, owing to the uncertain chances of fortune and war,\nthe wrong person may happen to be enslaved, yet, broadly speaking, the\ngeneral truth remains, that there are some men so inferior  to others\nthat they ought to be despotically governed, by the same right and for\nthe same good end that the body ought to be governed by the soul. Such\nmen, he maintains, are slaves by nature; and it is as much to their\ninterest to be ruled as it is to their masters' interest to rule them.\nTo this class belong, for example, all who are naturally incapable of\nany but physical activity. These should be regarded as detachable limbs,\nso to speak, of the man who owns them, instruments of his will, like\nhands and feet; or, to use Aristotle's own phrase, \"the slave is a tool\nwith life in it, and the tool a lifeless slave.\"\n\nThe relation between master and slave thus frankly conceived by the\nGreeks, did not necessarily imply, though it was quite compatible with,\nbrutality of treatment. The slave might be badly treated, no doubt, and\nvery frequently was, for his master had almost absolute control over\nhim, life and limb; but, as we should expect, it was clearly recognised\nby the best Greeks that the treatment should be genial and humane.\n\"There is a certain mutual profit and kindness,\" says Aristotle,\n\"between master and slave, in all cases where the relation is natural,\nnot merely imposed from without by convention or force.\" [Footnote:\nArist. Pol. I. 7. 1255 b 12] And Plato insists on the duty of neither\ninsulting nor outraging a slave, but treating him rather with even\ngreater fairness than if he were in a position of equality.\n\nStill, there can be no doubt that the Greek conception of slavery is one\nof the points in which their view of life runs most counter to our own.\nCenturies of Christianity have engendered in us the conviction, or\nrather, the instinct, that men are equal at least to this extent, that\nno one has a right explicitly to make of another a mere passive\ninstrument of his will--that every man, in short, must be regarded as an\nend in himself. Yet even here the divergence between the Greek and the\nmodern view is less extreme than it appears at first sight. For the\nmodern man, in spite of his perfectly genuine belief in equality (in the\nsense in which we have just defined the word), does nevertheless, when\nhe is confronted with racial differences, recognise degrees of\ninferiority so extreme, that he is practically driven into the\nAristotelian position that some men are naturally slaves. The American,\nfor example, will hardly deny that such is his attitude towards the\nnegro. The negro, in theory, is the equal, politically and socially, of\nthe white man; in practice, he is excluded from the vote, from the\nprofessions, from the amenities of social intercourse, and even, as we\nhave recently learnt, from the most elementary forms of justice. The\ngeneral and a priori doctrine of equality is shattering itself against\nthe actual facts; and the old Greek conception, \"the slave by nature\",\nmay be detected behind the mask of the Christian ideal. And while thus,\neven in spite of itself, the modern view is approximating to that of the\nGreeks, on the other hand the Greek view by its own evolution was\nalready beginning to anticipate our own. Even Aristotle, in formulating\nhis own conception of slavery, finds it necessary to observe that though\nit be true that some men are naturally slaves, yet in practice, under\nconditions which give the victory to force, it may happen that the\n\"natural\" slave becomes the master, and the \"natural\" master is degraded\nto a slave. This is already a serious modification of his doctrine. And\nother writers, pushing the contention further, deny altogether the\ntheory of natural slavery. \"No man,\" says the poet Philemon, \"was ever\nborn a slave by nature. Fortune only has put men in that position.\" And\nEuripides, the most modern of the Greeks, writes in the same strain:\n\"One thing only disgraces a slave, and that is the name. In all other\nrespects a slave, if he be good, is no worse than a freeman.\" [Footnote:\nEuripides, Ion. 854]\n\nIt seems then that the distinction between the Greek and the modern\npoint of view is not so profound or so final as it appears at first\nsight. Still, the distinction, broadly speaking, is there. The Greeks,\non the whole, were quite content to sacrifice the majority to the\nminority. Their position, as we said at the outset, was fundamentally\naristocratic; they exaggerated rather than minimised the distinctions\nbetween men--between the Greek and the barbarian, the freeman and the\nslave, the gentleman and the artisan--regarding them as natural and\nfundamental, not as the casual product of circumstances. The \"equality\"\nwhich they sought in a well-ordered state was proportional not\narithmetical--the attribution to each of his peculiar right, not of\nequal rights to all. Some were born to rule, others to serve; some to be\nends, others to be means; and the problem to be solved was not how to\nobliterate these varieties of tone, but how to compose them into an\nordered harmony.\n\nIn a modern state, on the other hand, though class distinctions are\nclearly enough marked, yet the point of view from which they are\nregarded is fundamentally different. They are attributed rather to\naccidents of fortune than to varieties of nature. The artisan, for\nexample, ranks no doubt lower than the professional man; but no one\nmaintains that he is a different kind of being, incapable by nature, as\nAristotle asserts, of the characteristic excellence of man. The\ndistinction admitted is rather one of wealth than of natural calling,\nand may be obliterated by ability and good luck. Neither in theory nor\nin practice does the modern state recognise any such gulf as that which,\nin ancient Greece, separated the freeman from the slave, or the citizen\nfrom the non-citizen.\n\n\nSection 5. The Greek State Primarily Military, not Industrial.\n\nThe source of this divergence of view must be sought in the whole\ncircumstances and character of the Greek states. Founded in the\nbeginning by conquest, many of them still retained, in their internal\nstructure, the marks of their violent origin. The citizens, for example,\nof Sparta and of Crete, were practically military garrisons, settled in\nthe midst of a hostile population. These were extreme cases; and\nelsewhere, no doubt, the distinction between the conquerors and the\nconquered had disappeared. Still, it had sufficed to mould the\nconception and ideal of the citizen as a member of a privileged and\nsuperior class, whose whole energies were devoted to maintaining, by\ncouncil and war, not only the prosperity, but the very existence of the\nstate. The original citizen, moreover, would be an owner of land, which\nwould be tilled for him by a subject class. Productive labour would be\nstamped, from the outset, with the stigma of inferiority; commerce would\ngrow up, if at all, outside the limits of the landed aristocracy, and\nwould have a struggle to win for itself any degree of social and\npolitical recognition. Such were the conditions that produced the Greek\nconception of the citizen. In some states, such as Sparta, they\ncontinued practically unchanged throughout the best period of Greek\nhistory; in others, such as Athens, they were modified by the growth of\na commercial population, and where that was the case the conception of\nthe citizen was modified too, and the whole polity assumed a democratic\ncharacter. Yet never, as we have seen, even in the most democratic\nstates, was the modern conception of equality admitted. For, in the\nfirst place, the institution of slavery persisted, to stamp the mass of\nproducers as an inferior caste; and in the second place, trade, even in\nthe states where it was most developed, hardly attained a preponderating\ninfluence. The ancient state was and remained primarily military. The\ngreat industrial questions which agitate modern states either did not\nexist at all in Greece, or assumed so simple a form that they did not\nrise to the surface of political life. [Footnote: There was, of course,\nthe general opposition between rich and poor (see below). But not those\ninfinitely complex relations which are the problems of modern\nstatesmanship.] How curious it is, for example, from the modern point of\nview, to find Plato, a citizen of the most important trading centre of\nGreece, dismissing in the following brief sentence the whole commercial\nlegislation of his ideal state:\n\n\"As to those common business transactions between private individuals in\nthe market, including, if you please, the contracts of artisans, libels,\nassaults, law-proceedings, and the impanelling of juries, or again\nquestions relating to tariffs, and the collection of such customs as may\nbe necessary in the market or in the harbours, and generally all\nregulations of the market, the police, the custom-house, and the like;\nshall we condescend to legislate at all on such matters?\n\n\"No, it is not worth while to give directions on these points to good\nand cultivated men: for in most cases they will have little difficulty\nin discovering all the legislation required.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep. IV.\n425.--Translated by Davies and Vaughan.]\n\nIn fact, throughout his treatise it is the non-commercial or military\nclass with which Plato is almost exclusively concerned; and in taking\nthat line he is so far at least in touch with reality that that class\nwas the one which did in fact predominate in the Greek state; and that\neven where, as in Athens, the productive class became an important\nfactor in political life, it was never able altogether to overthrow the\naristocratic conception of the citizen.\n\nAnd with that conception, we must add, was bound up the whole Greek view\nof individual excellence. The inferiority of the artisan and the trader,\nhistorically established in the manner we have indicated, was further\nemphasised by the fact that they were excluded by their calling from the\ncultivation of the higher personal qualities--from the training of the\nbody by gymnastics and of the mind by philosophy; from habitual\nconversance with public affairs; from that perfect balance, in a word,\nof the physical, intellectual, and moral powers, which was only to be\nattained by a process of self-culture, incompatible with the pursuance\nof a trade for bread. Such, at any rate, was the opinion of the Greeks.\nWe shall have occasion to return to it later. Meantime, let us sum up\nthe course of our investigation up to the present point.\n\nWe have seen that the state, in the Greek view, must be so limited, both\nin territory and population, that all its citizens might be able to\nparticipate in person in its government and defence; that it was based\non fundamental class distinctions separating sharply the citizen from\nthe non-citizen, and the slave from the free; that its end and purpose\nwas that all-absorbing corporate activity in which the citizen found the\nhighest expression of himself; and that to that end the inferior classes\nwere regarded as mere means--a point of view which finds its completest\nexpression in the institution of slavery.\n\n\nSection 6. Forms of Government in the Greek State.\n\nWhile, however, this was the general idea of the Greek state, it would\nbe a mistake to suppose that it was everywhere embodied in a single\npermanent form of polity. On the contrary, the majority of the states in\nGreece were in a constant state of flux; revolution succeeded revolution\nwith startling rapidity; and in place of a single fixed type what we\nreally get is a constant transition from one variety to another. The\ngeneral account we have given ought therefore to be regarded only as a\nkind of limiting formula, embracing within its range a number of\npolities distinct and even opposed in character. Of these polities\nAristotle, whose work is based on an examination of all the existing\nstates of Greece, recognises three main varieties: government by the\none, government by the few, and government by the many; and each of\nthese is subdivided into two forms, one good, where the government has\nregard to the well-being of the whole, the other bad, where it has\nregard only to the well-being of those who govern. The result is six\nforms, of which three are good, monarchy, aristocracy, and what he calls\na \"polity\" par excellence; three bad, tyranny, oligarchy, and democracy.\nOf all these forms we have examples in Greek history, and indeed can\nroughly trace a tendency of the state to evolve through the series of\nthem. But by far the most important, in the historical period, are the\ntwo forms known as Oligarchy and Democracy; and the reason of their\nimportance is that they corresponded roughly to government by the rich\nand government by the poor. \"Rich and poor,\" says Aristotle, \"are the\nreally antagonistic members of a state. The result is that the character\nof all existing polities is determined by the predominance of one or\nother of these classes, and it is the common opinion that there are two\npolities and two only, viz., Democracy and Oligarchy.\" [Footnote: Arist.\nPol. VI. (IV) 1291 b8.--Translation by Welldon.] In other words, the\nsocial distinction between rich and poor was exaggerated in Greece into\npolitical antagonism. In every state there was an oligarchic and a\ndemocratic faction; and so fierce was the opposition between them, that\nwe may almost say that every Greek city was in a chronic state of civil\nwar, having become, as Plato puts it, not one city but two, \"one\ncomprising the rich and the other the poor, who reside together on the\nsame ground, and are always plotting against one another.\" [Footnote:\nPlat. Rep. viii. 551--Translation by Davies and Vaughan]\n\n\nSection 7. Faction and Anarchy.\n\nThis internal schism which ran through almost every state, came to a\nhead in the great Peloponnesian war which divided Greece at the close of\nthe fifth century, and in which Athens and Sparta, the two chief\ncombatants, represented respectively the democratic and the oligarchic\nprinciples. Each appealed to the kindred faction in the states that were\nopposed to them; and every city was divided against itself, the party\nthat was \"out\" for the moment plotting with the foreign foe to overthrow\nthe party that was \"in.\" Thus the general Greek conception of the\nordered state was so far from being realised in practice that probably\nat no time in the history of the civilised world has anarchy more\ncomplete and cynical prevailed.\n\nTo appreciate the gulf that existed between the ideal and the fact, we\nhave only to contrast such a scheme as that set forth in the \"Republic\"\nof Plato with the following description by Thucydides of the state of\nGreece during the Peloponnesian war:\n\n\"Not long afterwards the whole Hellenic world was in commotion; in every\ncity the chiefs of the democracy and of the oligarchy were struggling,\nthe one to bring in the Athenians, the other the Lacedaemonians. Now in\ntime of peace, men would have had no excuse for introducing either, and\nno desire to do so; but when they were at war and both sides could\neasily obtain allies to the hurt of their enemies and the advantage of\nthemselves, the dissatisfied party were only too ready to invoke foreign\naid. And revolution brought upon the cities of Hellas many terrible\ncalamities, such as have been and always will be while human nature\nremains the same, but which are more or less aggravated and differ in\ncharacter with every new combination of circumstances. In peace and\nprosperity both states and individuals are actuated by higher motives,\nbecause they do not fall under the dominion of imperious necessities;\nbut war which takes away the comfortable provision of daily life is a\nhard master, and tends to assimilate men's characters to their\nconditions.\n\n\"When troubles had once begun in the cities, those who followed carried\nthe revolutionary spirit further and further, and determined to outdo\nthe report of all who had preceded them by the ingenuity of their\nenterprises and the atrocity of their revenges. The meaning of words had\nno longer the same relation to things, but was changed by them as they\nthought proper. Reckless daring was held to be loyal courage; prudent\ndelay was the excuse of a coward; moderation was the disguise of unmanly\nweakness; to know everything was to do nothing. Frantic energy was the\ntrue quality of a man. A conspirator who wanted to be safe was a\nrecreant in disguise. The lover of violence was always trusted, and his\nopponent suspected. He who succeeded in a plot was deemed knowing, but a\nstill greater master in craft was he who detected one. On the other\nhand, he who plotted from the first to have nothing to do with plots was\na breaker-up of parties and a poltroon who was afraid of the enemy. In a\nword, he who could outstrip another in a bad action was applauded, and\nso was he who encouraged to evil one who had no idea of it. The tie of\nparty was stronger than the tie of blood, because a partisan was more\nready to dare without asking why (for party associations are not based\nupon any established law, nor do they seek the public good; they are\nformed in defiance of the laws and from self-interest). The seal of good\nfaith was not divine law, but fellowship in crime. If an enemy when he\nwas in the ascendant offered fair words, the opposite party received\nthem, not in a generous spirit, but by a jealous watchfulness of his\nactions. Revenge was dearer than self-preservation. Any agreements sworn\nto by either party, when they could do nothing else, were binding as\nlong as both were powerless. But he who on a favourable opportunity\nfirst took courage and struck at his enemy when he saw him off his\nguard, had greater pleasure in a perfidious than he would have had in an\nopen act of revenge; he congratulated himself that he had taken the\nsafer course, and also that he had overreached his enemy and gained the\nprize of superior ability. In general the dishonest more easily gain\ncredit for cleverness than the simple for goodness; men take a pride in\nthe one, but are ashamed of the other.\n\n\"The cause of all these evils was the love of power originating in\navarice and ambition, and the party-spirit which is engendered by them\nwhen men are fairly embarked in a contest. For the leaders on either\nside used specious names, the one party professing to uphold the\nconstitutional equality of the many, the other the wisdom of an\naristocracy, while they made the public interests, to which in name they\nwere devoted, in reality their prize. Striving in every way to overcome\neach other, they committed the most monstrous crimes; yet even these\nwere surpassed by the magnitude of their revenges which they pursued to\nthe very utmost, neither party observing any definite limits either of\njustice or public expediency, but both alike making the caprice of the\nmoment their law. Either by the help of an unrighteous sentence, or\ngrasping power with the strong hand, they were eager to satiate the\nimpatience of party spirit. Neither faction cared for religion; but any\nfair pretence which succeeded in effecting some odious purpose was\ngreatly lauded. And the citizens who were of neither party fell a prey\nto both; either they were disliked because they held aloof, or men were\njealous of their surviving.\n\n\"Thus revolution gave birth to every form of wickedness in Hellas. The\nsimplicity which is so large an element in a noble nature was laughed to\nscorn and disappeared. An attitude of perfidious antagonism everywhere\nprevailed; for there was no word binding enough, nor oath terrible\nenough to reconcile enemies. Each man was strong only in the conviction\nthat nothing was secure; he must look to his own safety, and could not\nafford to trust others. Inferior intellects generally succeeded best.\nFor aware of their own deficiencies, and fearing the capacities of their\nopponents, for whom they were no match in powers of speech, and whose\nsubtle wits were likely to anticipate them in contriving evil, they\nstruck boldly and at once. But the cleverer sort, presuming in their\narrogance that they would be aware in time, and disdaining to act when\nthey could think, were taken off their guard and easily destroyed.\"\n[Footnote: Thuc. iii. 82.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nThe general indictment thus drawn up by Thucydides is amply illustrated\nby the events of war which he describes. On one occasion, for example,\nthe Athenians were blockading Mitylene; the government, an oligarchy,\nwas driven to arm the people for the defence; the people, having\nobtained arms, immediately demanded political rights, under threat of\nsurrendering the city to the foreign foe; and the government, rather\nthan concede their claims, surrendered it themselves. Again, Megara, we\nlearn, was twice betrayed, once by the democrats to the Athenians, and\nagain by the oligarchs to the Lacedaemonians. At Leontini the Syracusans\nwere called in to drive out the popular party. And at Corcyra the\npeople, having got the better of their aristocratic opponents, proceeded\nto a general massacre which extended over seven days, with every variety\nof moral and physical atrocity.\n\nSuch is the view of the political condition of Greece given to us by a\ncontemporary observer towards the close of the fifth century, and it is\na curious comment on the Greek idea of the state. That idea, as we saw,\nwas an ordered inequality, political as well as social; and in certain\nstates, and notably in Sparta, it was successfully embodied in a stable\nform. But in the majority of the Greek states it never attained to more\nthan a fluctuating and temporary realisation. The inherent contradiction\nwas too extreme for the attempted reconciliation; the inequalities\nrefused to blend in a harmony of divergent tones but asserted themselves\nin the dissonance of civil war.\n\n\nSection 8. Property and the Communistic Ideal.\n\nAnd, as we have seen, this internal schism of the Greek state was as\nmuch social as political. The \"many\" and the \"few\" were identified\nrespectively with the poor and the rich; and the struggle was thus at\nbottom as much economic as political. Government by an oligarchy was\nunderstood to mean the exploitation of the masses by the classes. \"An\noligarchy,\" says a democrat, as reported by Thucydides, \"while giving\nthe people the full share of danger, not merely takes too much of the\ngood things, but absolutely monopolises them.\" [Footnote: Thuc. vi. 39.--\nTranslated by Jowett.] And, similarly, the advent of democracy was held\nto imply the spoliation of the classes in the interest of the masses,\neither by excessive taxation, by an abuse of the judicial power to fine,\nor by any other of the semi-legal devices of oppression which the\nmajority in power have always at their command. This substantial\nidentity of rich and poor, respectively, with oligarch and democrat may\nbe further illustrated by the following passage from Aristotle:\n\n\"In consequence of the political disturbances and contentions between\nthe commons on the one hand and the rich on the other, whichever party\nhappens to get the better of its opponents, instead of establishing a\npolity of a broad and equal kind, assumes political supremacy as a prize\nof the victory, and sets up either a Democracy or an Oligarchy.\"\n[Footnote: Arist. Pol. VI. (IV) 1296 a 27.--Translation by Welldon.]\n\nWe see then that it was the underlying question of property that infused\nso strong a rancour into the party struggles of Greece. From the very\nearliest period, in fact, we find it to have been the case that\npolitical revolution was prompted by economic causes. Debt was the main\nfactor of the crisis which led to the legislation of Solon; and a re-\ndivision of the land was one of the measures attributed to Lycurgus.\n[Footnote: I have not thought it necessary for my purpose, here or\nelsewhere, to discuss the authenticity of the statements made by Greek\nauthors about Lycurgus.] As population increased, and, in the maritime\nstates, commerce and trade developed, the problem of poverty became\nincreasingly acute; and though it was partially met by the emigration of\nthe surplus population to colonies, yet in the fifth and fourth\ncenturies we find it prominent and pressing both in practical politics\nand in speculation. Nothing can illustrate better how familiar the topic\nwas, and to what free theorising it had led, than the passages in which\nit is treated in the comedies of Aristophanes. Here for example, is an\nextract from the \"Ecclesiazusae\" which it may be worth while to insert\nas a contribution to an argument that belongs to every age.\n\nPRAXAGORA. I tell you that we are all to share alike and have everything\nin common, instead of one being rich and another poor, and one having\nhundreds of acres and another not enough to make him a grave, and one a\nhouseful of servants and another not even a paltry foot-boy. I am going\nto introduce communism and universal equality.\n\nBLEPSYRUS. How communism?\n\nPRAX. That's just what I was going to tell you. First of all,\neverybody's money and land and anything else he may possess will be made\ncommon property. Then we shall maintain you all out of the common stock,\nwith due regard to economy and thrift.\n\nBLEPS. But how about those who have no land, but only money that they\ncan hide?\n\nPRAX. It will all go to the public purse. To keep anything back will be\nperjury.\n\nBLEPS. Perjury! Well, if you come to that, it was by perjury it was all\nacquired.\n\nPRAX. And then, money won't be the least use to any one.\n\nBLEPS. Why not?\n\nPRAX. Because nobody will be poor. Everybody will have everything he\nwants, bread, salt-fish, barley-cake, clothes, wine, garlands,\nchickpeas. So what will be the good of keeping anything back? Answer\nthat if you can!\n\nBLEPS. Isn't it just the people who have all these things that are the\ngreatest thieves?\n\nPRAX. No doubt, under the old laws. But now, when everything will be in\ncommon what will be the good of keeping anything back?\n\nBLEPS. Who will do the field work?\n\nPRAX. The slaves; all you will have to do is to dress and go out to\ndinner in the evening.\n\nBLEPS. But what about the clothes? How are they to be provided?\n\nPRAX. What you have now will do to begin with, and afterwards we shall\nmake them for you ourselves.\n\nBLEPS. Just one thing more! Supposing a man were to lose his suit in the\ncourts, where are the damages to come from? It would not be fair to take\nthe public funds.\n\nPRAX. But there won't be any lawsuits at all!\n\nBLEPS. That will mean ruin to a good many people!\n\nBYSTANDER. Just my idea!\n\nPRAX. Why should there be any?\n\nBLEPS. Why! for reasons enough, heaven knows! For instance, a man might\nrepudiate his debts.\n\nPRAX. In that case, where did the man who lent the money get it from?\nClearly, since everything is in common, he must have stolen it!\n\nBLEPS. So he must! An excellent idea! But now tell me this. When fellows\ncome to blows over their cups, where are the damages to come from?\n\nPRAX. From the rations! A man won't be in such a hurry to make a row\nwhen his belly has to pay for it.\n\nBLEPS. One thing more! Will there be no more thieves?\n\nPRAX. Why should any one steal what is his own?\n\nBLEPS. And won't one be robbed of one's cloak at night?\n\nPRAX. Not if you sleep at home!\n\nBLEPS. Nor yet, if one sleeps out, as one used to do?\n\nPRAX. No, for there will be enough and to spare for all. And even if a\nthief does try to strip a man, he will give up his cloak of his own\naccord. What would be the good of fighting? He has only to go and get\nanother, and a better, from the public stores.\n\nBLEPS. And will there be no more gambling?\n\nPRAX. What will there be to play for?\n\nBLEPS. And how about house accommodation?\n\nPRAX. That will be the same for all. I tell you I am going to turn the\nwhole city into one huge house, and break down all the partitions, so\nthat every one may have free access to every one else. [Footnote:\nAristoph. Eccles. 590.]\n\nThe \"social problem,\" then, had clearly arisen in ancient Greece, though\nno doubt in an infinitely simpler form than that in which it is\npresented to ourselves; and it might perhaps have been expected that the\nGreeks, with their notion of the supremacy of the state, would have\nadopted some drastic public measure to meet it. And, in fact, in the\nearlier period of their history, as has been indicated above, we do find\nsweeping revolutions effected in the distribution of property. In\nAthens, Solon abolished debt, either in whole or part, by reducing the\nrate of interest and depreciating the currency; and in Sparta Lycurgus\nis said to have resumed the whole of the land for the state, and\nredivided it equally among the citizens. We have also traces of laws\nexisting in other states to regulate in the interests of equality the\npossession and transfer of land. But it does not appear that any attempt\nwas made in any state permanently to control by public authority the\nproduction and distribution of wealth. Meantime, however, the problem of\nsocial inequality was exercising the minds of political theorists; and\nwe have notice of various schemes for an ideal polity framed upon\ncommunistic principles. Of these the most important, and the only one\npreserved to us, is the celebrated \"Republic\" of Plato; and never, it\nmay be safely asserted, was a plan of society framed so consistent,\nharmonious and beautiful in itself, or so indifferent to the actual\ncapacities of mankind. Following out what we have already indicated as\nthe natural drift of Greek ideas, the philosopher separates off on the\none hand the productive class, who are to have no political rights; and\non the other the class of soldiers and governors. It is the latter alone\nwith whom he seriously concerns himself; and the scheme he draws up for\nthem is uncompromisingly communistic. After being purged, by an\nelaborate education, of all the egoistic passions, they are to live\ntogether, having all things in common, devoted heart and soul to the\npublic good, and guiltless even of a desire for any private possession\nor advantage of their own. \"In the first place, no one,\" says Plato,\n\"should possess any private property, if it can possibly be avoided;\nsecondly, no one should have a dwelling or store house into which all\nwho please may not enter; whatever necessaries are required by temperate\nand courageous men, who are trained to war, they should receive by\nregular appointment from their fellow-citizens, as wages for their\nservices, and the amount should be such as to leave neither a surplus on\nthe year's consumption nor a deficit; and they should attend common\nmesses and live together as men do in a camp: as for gold and silver, we\nmust tell them that they are in perpetual possession of a divine species\nof the precious metals placed in their souls by the gods themselves, and\ntherefore have no need of the earthly one; that in fact it would be\nprofanation to pollute their spiritual riches by mixing them with the\npossession of mortal gold, because the world's coinage has been the\ncause of countless impieties, whereas theirs is undefiled: therefore to\nthem, as distinguished from the rest of the people, it is forbidden to\nhandle or touch gold and silver, or enter under the same roof with them,\nor to wear them in their dresses, or to drink out of the precious\nmetals. If they follow these rules, they will be safe themselves and the\nsaviours of the city: but whenever they come to possess lands, and\nhouses, and money of their own, they will be householders and\ncultivators instead of guardians, and will become hostile masters of\ntheir fellow-citizens rather than their allies; and so they will spend\ntheir whole lives, hating and hated, plotting and plotted against,\nstanding in more frequent and intense alarm of their enemies at home\nthan of their enemies abroad; by which time they and the rest of the\ncity will be running on the very brink of ruin.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep.\nIII. 416.--Translation by Davies and Vaughan.]\n\nThe passage is interesting, if only as an illustration of the way in\nwhich Plato had been impressed by the evil results of the institution of\nprivate property. But as a contribution to political theory it was open\nto severe attack from the representatives of experience and common\nsense. Of these, the chief was Aristotle, whose criticism has been\npreserved to us, and who, while admitting that Plato's scheme has a\nplausible appearance of philanthropy, maintains that it is inapplicable\nto the facts of human nature. To this conclusion, indeed, even Plato\nhimself was driven in the end; for in his later work, the \"Laws,\"\nalthough he still asserts that community of goods would be the ideal\ninstitution, he reluctantly abandons it as a basis for a possible state.\nOn the other hand, he endeavours by the most stringent regulations, to\nprevent the growth of inequalities of wealth. He distributes the land in\nequal lots among his citizens, prohibiting either purchase or sub-\ndivision; limits the possession of money to the amount required for\ndaily exchange; and forbids lending on interest. The object of a\nlegislator, he declares, is to make not a great but a happy city. But\nonly the good are happy, and goodness and wealth are incompatible. The\nlegislator, therefore, will not allow his citizens to be wealthy, any\nmore than he will allow them to be poor. He will seek to establish by\nlaw the happy mean; and to this end, if he despair of the possibility of\na thorough-going communism, will legislate at least as indicated above.\nThe uncompromising idealism of Plato's scheme, with its assumption of\nthe indefinite plasticity of human nature, is of course peculiar to\nhimself, not typical of Greek ideas. But it is noticeable that\nAristotle, who is a far better representative of the average Greek mind,\nexhibits the same mistrust of the accumulation of private property. In\nthe beginning of his \"Politics\" he distinguishes two kinds of money-\nmaking, one natural, that which is pursued for the sake of a livelihood,\nthe other unnatural, that which is pursued for the sake of accumulation.\n\"The motive of this latter,\" he says, \"is a desire for life instead of\nfor good life\"; and its most hateful method is that of usury, the\nunnatural breeding of money out of money. And though he rejects as\nimpracticable the compulsory communism of Plato's \"Republic\", yet he\nurges as the ideal solution that property, while owned by individuals,\nshould be held as in trust for the common good; and puts before the\nlegislator the problem: \"so to dispose the higher natures that they are\nunwilling, and the lower that they are unable to aggrandise themselves.\"\n[Footnote: Aristotle, Pol. ii. 7. 1267 b 6.--Translation by Welldon.]\n\nSuch views as these, it may be noted, interesting though they be, as\nillustrating how keenly the thinkers of ancient Greece had realised the\ndrawbacks of private property, have but the slightest bearing on the\nconditions of our own time. The complexity and extent of modern industry\nhave given rise to quite new problems, and quite new schemes for their\nsolution; and especially have forced into prominence the point of view\nof the producers themselves. To Greek thinkers it was natural to\napproach the question of property from the side of the governing class\nor of the state as a whole. The communism of Plato, for example, applied\nonly to the \"guardians\" and soldiers, and not to the productive class on\nwhom they depended; and so completely was he pre-occupied with the\nformer to the exclusion of the latter, that he dismisses in a single\nsentence, as unworthy the legislator's detailed attention, the whole\napparatus of labour and exchange. To regard the \"working-class\" as the\nmost important section of the community, to substitute for the moral or\npolitical the economic standpoint, and to conceive society merely as a\nmachine for the production and distribution of wealth, would have been\nimpossible to an ancient Greek. Partly by the simplicity of the economic\nside of the society with which he was acquainted, partly by the habit of\nregarding the labouring class as a mere means to the maintenance of the\nrest, he was led, even when he had to deal with the problem of poverty\nand wealth, to regard it rather from the point of view of the stability\nand efficiency of the state, than from that of the welfare of the\nproducers themselves. The modern attitude is radically different; a\nrevolution has been effected both in the conditions of industry and in\nthe way in which they are regarded; and the practice and the speculation\nof the Greek city-states have for us an interest which, great as it is,\nis philosophic rather than practical.\n\n\nSection 9. Sparta.\n\nThe preceding attempt at a general sketch of the nature of the Greek\nstate is inevitably loose and misleading to this extent, that it\nendeavours to comprehend in a single view polities of the most varied\nand discrepant character. To remedy, so far as may be, this defect, to\ngive an impression, more definite and more complete, of the variety and\nscope of the political experience of the Greeks, let us examine a little\nmore in detail the character of the two states which were at once the\nmost prominent and the most opposed in their achievement and their aim--\nthe state of Sparta on the one hand, and that of Athens on the other. It\nwas these two cities that divided the hegemony of Greece; they represent\nthe extremes of the two forms--oligarchy and democracy--under which, as\nwe saw, the Greek polities fall; and from a sufficient acquaintance with\nthem we may gather a fairly complete idea of the whole range of Greek\npolitical life.\n\nIn Sparta we see one extreme of the political development of Greece, and\nthe one which approaches nearest, perhaps, to the characteristic Greek\ntype. Of that type, it is true, it was an exaggeration, and was\nrecognised as such by the best thinkers of Greece; but just for that\nreason it is the more interesting and instructive as an exhibition of a\ndistinctive aspect of Greek civilisation.\n\nThe Spartan state was composed of a small body of citizens--the\nSpartiatae or Spartans proper-encamped in the midst of a hostile\npopulation to whom they allowed no political rights and by whose labour\nthey were supplied with the necessaries of life. The distinction between\nthe citizen class on the one hand and the productive class on the other\nwas thus as clearly and sharply drawn as possible. It was even\nexaggerated; for the citizens were a band of conquerors, the productive\nclass a subject race, perpetually on the verge of insurrection and only\nkept in restraint by such measures as secret assassination. The result\nwas to draw together the small band of Spartiatae into a discipline so\nrigorous and close that under it everything was sacrificed to the\nnecessity of self-preservation; and the bare maintenance of the state\nbecame the end for which every individual was born, and lived, and died.\nThis discipline, according to tradition, had been devised by a single\nlegislator, Lycurgus, and it was maintained intact for several\ncenturies. Its main features may be summarised as follows.\n\nThe production and rearing of children, to begin at the beginning,\ninstead of being left to the caprice of individuals, was controlled and\nregulated by the state. The women, in the first place, were trained by\nphysical exercise for the healthy performance of the duties of\nmotherhood; they were taught to run and wrestle naked, like the youths,\nto dance and sing in public, and to associate freely with men. Marriage\nwas permitted only in the prime of life; and a free intercourse, outside\nits limits, between healthy men and women, was encouraged and approved\nby public opinion. Men who did not marry were subject to social and\ncivic disabilities. The children, as soon as they were born, were\nsubmitted to the inspection of the elders of their tribe; if strong and\nwell-formed, they were reared; if not, they were allowed to die.\n\nA healthy stock having been thus provided as a basis, every attention\nwas devoted to its appropriate training. The infants were encouraged\nfrom the beginning in the free use of their limbs, unhampered by\nswaddling-clothes, and were accustomed to endure without fear darkness\nand solitude, and to cure themselves of peevishness and crying. At the\nage of seven the boys were taken away from the charge of their parents,\nand put under the superintendence of a public official. Their education,\non the intellectual side, was slight enough, comprising only such\nrudiments as reading and writing; but on the moral side it was stringent\nand severe. Gathered into groups under the direction of elder youths--\n\"monitors\" we might call them--they were trained to a discipline of iron\nendurance. One garment served them for the whole year; they went without\nshoes, and slept on beds of rushes plucked with their own hands. Their\nfood was simple, and often enough they had to go without it. Every\nmoment of the day they were under inspection and supervision, for it was\nthe privilege and the duty of every citizen to admonish and punish not\nonly his own but other people's children. At supper they waited at table\non their elders, answered their questions and endured their jests. In\nthe streets they were taught to walk in silence, their hands folded in\ntheir cloaks, their eyes cast down, their heads never turning to right\nor left. Their gymnastic and military training was incessant; wherever\nthey met, we are told, they began to box; under the condition, however,\nthat they were bound to separate at the command of any bystander. To\naccustom them early to the hardships of a campaign, they were taught to\nsteal their food from the mess-tables of their elders; if they were\ndetected they were beaten for their clumsiness, and went without their\ndinner. Nothing was omitted, on the moral or physical side, to make them\nefficient members of a military state. Nor was the discipline relaxed\nwhen they reached years of maturity. For, in fact, the whole city was a\ncamp. Family life was obliterated by public activity. The men dined\ntogether in messes, rich and poor alike, sharing the same coarse and\nsimple food. Servants, dogs, and horses, were regarded as common\nproperty. Luxury was strictly forbidden. The only currency in\ncirculation was of iron, so cumbrous that it was impossible to\naccumulate or conceal it. The houses were as simple as possible, the\nroofs shaped only with the axe, and the doors with the saw; the\nfurniture and fittings corresponded, plain but perfectly made. The\nnature of the currency practically prohibited commerce, and no citizen\nwas allowed to be engaged in any mechanical trade. Agriculture was the\nmain industry, and every Spartan had, or was supposed to have, a landed\nestate, cultivated by serfs who paid him a yearly rent. In complete\naccordance with the Greek ideal, it was a society of soldier-citizens,\nsupported by an inferior productive class. In illustration of this point\nthe following curious anecdote may be quoted from Plutarch. During one\nof the wars in which Sparta and her allies were engaged, the allies\ncomplained that they, who were the majority of the army, had been forced\ninto a quarrel which concerned nobody but the Spartans. Whereupon\nAgesilaus, the Spartan king, \"devised this expedient to show the allies\nwere not the greater number. He gave orders that all the allies, of\nwhatever country, should sit down promiscuously on one side, and all the\nLacedaemonians on the other: which being done, he commanded a herald to\nproclaim, that all the potters of both divisions should stand out; then\nall the blacksmiths; then all the masons; next the carpenters; and so he\nwent through all the handicrafts. By this time almost all the allies\nwere risen, but of the Lacedaemonians not a man, they being by law\nforbidden to learn any mechanical business; and now Agesilaus laughed\nand said, \"You see, my friends, how many more soldiers we send out than\nyou do.\" [Footnote: Plut. Agesilaus.--Translation by Clough.]\n\nAnd certainly, so far as its immediate ends were concerned, this society\nof soldier-citizens was singularly successful. The courage and\nefficiency of Spartan troops were notorious, and were maintained indeed\nnot only by the training we have described, but by social penalties\nattached to cowardice. A man who had disgraced himself in battle was a\npariah in his native land. No one would eat with him, no one would\nwrestle with him; in the dance he must take the lowest place; he must\ngive the wall at meetings in the street, and resign his seat even to\nyounger men; he must dress and bear himself humbly, under penalty of\nblows, and suffer the reproaches of women and of boys. Death plainly\nwould be preferable to such a life; and we are not surprised to hear\nthat the discipline and valour of Spartan troops was celebrated far and\nwide. Here is a description of them, given by one of themselves to the\nPersian king when he was projecting the invasion of Greece:\n\n\"Brave are all the Greeks who dwell in any Dorian land; but what I am\nabout to say does not concern all, but only the Lacedaemonians. First,\nthen, come what may, they will never accept thy terms, which would\nreduce Greece to slavery; and further, they are sure to join battle with\nthee, though all the rest of Greece should submit to thy will. As for\ntheir numbers, do not ask how many they are, that their resistance\nshould be a possible thing; for if a thousand of them should take the\nfield, they will meet thee in battle, and so will any number, be it less\nthan this, or be it more.\n\n\"When they fight singly, they are as good men as any in the world, and\nwhen they fight in a body, they are the bravest of all. For though they\nbe freemen, they are not in all respects free; Law is the master whom\nthey own; and this master they fear more than thy subjects fear thee.\nWhatever he commands they do; and his commandment is always the same: it\nforbids them to flee in battle, whatever the number of their foes, and\nrequires them to stand firm, and either to conquer or die.\" [Footnote:\nHerodotus vii. 102, 4.--Translation by Rawlinson.]\n\nThe practical illustration of this speech is the battle of Thermopylae,\nwhere 300 Spartans kept at bay the whole Persian host, till they were\nbetrayed from the rear and killed fighting to a man.\n\nThe Spartan state, then, justified itself according to its own ideal;\nbut how limited that ideal was will be clear from our sketch. The\nindividual, if it cannot be said that he was sacrificed to the state--\nfor he recognised the life of the state as his own--was at any rate\nstarved upon one side of his nature as much as he was hypertrophied upon\nthe other. Courage, obedience, and endurance were developed in excess;\nbut the free play of passion and thought, the graces and arts of life,\nall that springs from the spontaneity of nature, were crushed out of\nexistence under this stern and rigid rule. \"None of them,\" says\nPlutarch, an enthusiastic admirer of the Spartan polity \"none of them\nwas left alone to live as he chose; but passing their time in the city\nas though it were a camp, their manner of life and their avocations\nordered with a view to the public good, they regarded themselves as\nbelonging, not to themselves, but to their country.\" [Footnote: Plut.\nLycurgus, ch. 24.] And Plato, whose ideal republic was based so largely\nupon the Spartan model, has marked nevertheless as the essential defect\nof their polity its insistence on military virtue to the exclusion of\neverything else, and its excessive accentuation of the corporate aspect\nof life. \"Your military way of life,\" he says, \"is modelled after the\ncamp, and is not like that of dwellers in cities; and you have your\nyoung men herding and feeding together like young colts. No one takes\nhis own individual colt and drags him away from his fellows against his\nwill, raging and foaming, and gives him a groom for him alone, and\ntrains and rubs him down privately, and gives him the qualities in\neducation which will make him not only a good soldier, but also a\ngovernor of a state and of cities. Such a one would be a greater warrior\nthan he of whom Tyrtaeus sings; and he would honour courage everywhere,\nbut always as the fourth, and not as the first part of virtue, either in\nindividuals or states.\" [Footnote: Plato Laws, II. 666 e.--Translation\nby Jowett].\n\nThe Spartan state, in fact, by virtue of that excellence which was also\nits defect--the specialising of the individual on the side of discipline\nand rule--carried within it the seeds of its own destruction. The\ntendencies which Lycurgus had endeavoured to repress by external\nregulation reasserted themselves in his despite. He had intended once\nfor all both to limit and to equalise private property; but already as\nearly as the fifth century Spartans had accumulated gold which they\ndeposited in temples in foreign states; the land fell, by inheritance\nand gift, into the hands of a small minority; the number of the citizens\nwas reduced, not only by war, but by the disfranchisement attending\ninability to contribute to the common mess-tables; till at last we find\nno more than 700 Spartan families, and of these no more than 100\npossessing estates in land.\n\nAnd this decline from within was hastened by external events. The\nconstitution devised for a small state encamped amidst a hostile\npopulation, broke down under the weight of imperial power. The conquest\nof Athens by Sparta was the signal of her own collapse. The power and\nwealth she had won at a stroke alienated her sons from her discipline.\nGenerals and statesmen who had governed like kings the wealthy cities of\nthe east were unable to adapt themselves again to the stern and narrow\nrules of Lycurgus. They rushed into freedom and enjoyment, into the\nunfettered use of their powers, with an energy proportional to the\nprevious restraint. The features of the human face broke through the\nfair but lifeless mask of ancient law; and the Spartan, ceasing to be a\nSpartan, both rose and fell to the level of a man.\n\n\nSection 10. Athens.\n\nIn the institutions of Sparta we see, carried to its furthest point, one\nside of the complex Greek nature--their capacity for discipline and law.\nAthens, the home of a different stock, gives us the other extreme--their\ncapacity for rich and spontaneous individual development. To pass from\nSparta to Athens, is to pass from a barracks to a playing-field. All the\nbeauty, all the grace, all the joy of Greece; all that chains the desire\nof mankind, with a yearning that is never stilled, to that one golden\nmoment in the past, whose fair and balanced interplay of perfect flesh\nand soul no later gains of thought can compensate, centres about that\nbright and stately city of romance, the home of Pericles and all the\narts, whence from generation to generation has streamed upon ages less\nillustrious an influence at once the sanest and the most inspired of all\nthat have shaped the secular history of the world. Girt by mountain and\nsea, by haunted fountain and sacred grove, shaped and adorned by the\nmaster hands of Pheidias and Polygnotus and filled with the breath of\npassion and song by Euripides and Plato, Athens, famed alike for the\nlegended deeds of heroes and gods and for the feats of her human sons in\ncouncil, art, and war, is a name, to those who have felt her spell, more\nfamiliar and more dear than any of the few that mark with gold the\nsombre scroll of history. And still across the years we feel the throb\nof the glorious verse that broke in praise of his native land from the\nlips of Euripides:\n\n\n     \"Happy of yore were the children of race divine\n     Happy the sons of old Erechtheus' line\n           Who in their holy state\n           With hands inviolate\n     Gather the flower of wisdom far-renowned,\n     Lightly lifting their feet in the lucid air\n     Where the sacred nine, the Pierid Muses, bare\n           Harmonia golden-crowned.\n\n     There in the wave from fair Kephisus flowing\n     Kupris sweetens the winds and sets them blowing\n           Over the delicate land;\n           And ever with joyous hand\n     Braiding her fragrant hair with the blossom of roses,\n     She sendeth the Love that dwelleth in Wisdom's place\n     That every virtue may quicken and every grace\n           In the hearts where she reposes.\"\n          [Footnote: Eurip. Medea, 825.]\n\nAnd this, the Athens of poetry and art, is but another aspect of the\nAthens of political history. The same individuality, the same free and\npassionate energy that worked in the hearts of her sculptors and her\npoets, moulded also and inspired her city life. In contradistinction to\nthe stern and rigid discipline of Sparta, the Athenian citizen displayed\nthe resource, the versatility and the zeal that only freedom and self-\nreliance can teach. The contrast is patent at every stage of the history\nof the two states, and has been acutely set forth by Thucydides in the\nspeech which he puts into the mouths of the Corinthian allies of Sparta:\n\n\"You have never considered,\" they say to the Lacedaemonians, \"what\nmanner of men are these Athenians with whom you will have to fight, and\nhow utterly unlike yourselves. They are revolutionary, equally quick in\nthe conception and in the execution of every new plan; while you are\nconservative--careful only to keep what you have, originating nothing,\nand not acting even when action is most necessary. They are bold beyond\ntheir strength; they run risks which prudence would condemn; and in the\nmidst of misfortunes they are full of hope. Whereas it is your nature,\nthough strong, to act feebly; when your plans are most prudent, to\ndistrust them; and when calamities come upon you, to think that you will\nnever be delivered from them. They are impetuous, and you are dilatory;\nthey are always abroad, and you are always at home. For they hope to\ngain something by leaving their homes; but you are afraid that any new\nenterprise may imperil what you have already. When conquerors, they\npursue their victory to the utmost; when defeated, they fall back the\nleast. Their bodies they devote to their country as though they belonged\nto other men; their true self is their mind, which is most truly their\nown when employed in her service. When they do not carry out an\nintention which they have formed, they seem to have sustained a personal\nbereavement; when an enterprise succeeds, they have gained a mere\ninstalment of what is to come; but if they fail, they at once conceive\nnew hopes and so fill up the void.\n\n\"With them alone to hope is to have, for they lose not a moment in the\nexecution of an idea. This is the lifelong task, full of danger and\ntoil, which they are always imposing upon themselves. None enjoy their\ngood things less, because they are always seeking for more. To do their\nduty is their only holiday, and they deem the quiet of inaction to be as\ndisagreeable as the most tiresome business. If a man should say of them,\nin a word, that they were born neither to have peace themselves nor to\nallow peace to other men, he would simply speak the truth.\" [Footnote:\nThuc. i. 70.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nThe qualities here set forth by Thucydides as characteristic of the\nAthenians, were partly the cause and partly the effect of their\npolitical constitution. The history of Athens, indeed, is the very\nantithesis to that of Sparta. In place of a type fixed at a stroke and\nenduring for centuries, she presents a series of transitions through the\nwhole range of polities, to end at last in a democracy so extreme that\nit refuses to be included within the limits of the general formula of\nthe Greek state.\n\nSeldom, indeed, has \"equality\" been pushed to so extreme a point as it\nwas, politically at least, in ancient Athens. The class of slaves, it is\ntrue, existed there as in every other state; but among the free\ncitizens, who included persons of every rank, no political distinction\nat all was drawn. All of them, from the lowest to the highest, had the\nright to speak and vote in the great assembly of the people which was\nthe ultimate authority; all were eligible to every administrative post;\nall sat in turn as jurors in the law-courts. The disabilities of poverty\nwere minimised by payment for attendance in the assembly and the courts.\nAnd, what is more extraordinary, even distinctions of ability were\nlevelled by the practice of filling all offices, except the highest, by\nlot.\n\nHad the citizens been a class apart, as was the case in Sparta, had they\nbeen subjected from the cradle to a similar discipline and training,\nforbidden to engage in any trade or business, and consecrated to the\nservice of the state, there would have been nothing surprising in this\nuncompromising assertion of equality. But in Athens the citizenship was\nextended to every rank and calling; the poor man jostled the rich, the\nshopman the aristocrat, in the Assembly; cobblers, carpenters, smiths,\nfarmers, merchants, and retail traders met together with the ancient\nlanded gentry, to debate and conclude on national affairs; and it was\nfrom such varied elements as these that the lot impartially chose the\nofficials of the law, the revenue, the police, the highways, the\nmarkets, and the ports, as well as the jurors at whose mercy stood\nreputation, fortune, and life. The consequence was that in Athens, at\nleast in the later period of her history, the middle and lower classes\ntended to monopolise political power. Of the popular leaders, Cleon, the\nmost notorious, was a tanner; another was a baker, another a cattle-\ndealer. Influence belonged to those who had the gift of leading the\nmass; and in that competition the man of tongue, of energy, and of\nresource, was more than a match for the aristocrat of birth and\nintellect.\n\nThe constitution of Athens, then, was one of political equality imposed\nupon social inequality. To illustrate the point we may quote a passage\nfrom Aristophanes which shows at once the influence exercised by the\ntrading class and the disgust with which that influence was regarded by\nthe aristocracy whom the poet represents. The passage is taken from the\n\"Knights,\" a comedy written to discredit Cleon, and turning upon the\nexpulsion of the notorious tanner from the good graces of Demos, by the\nsuperior impudence and address of a sausage-seller. Demosthenes, a\ngeneral of the aristocratic party, is communicating to the latter the\ndestiny that awaits him.\n\n     DEMOSTHENES (_to the_ SAUSAGE-SELLER _gravely_).\n   Set these poor wares aside; and now--bow down\n   To the ground; and adore the powers of earth and heaven.\n\n     S.-S. Heigh-day! Why, what do you mean?\n\n     DEM. O happy man!\n   Unconscious of your glorious destiny,\n   Now mean and unregarded; but to-morrow,\n   The mightiest of the mighty, Lord of Athens.\n\n     S.-S. Come, master, what's the use of making game?\n   Why can't ye let me wash my guts and tripe,\n   And sell my sausages in peace and quiet?\n\n     DEM. O simple mortal, cast those thoughts aside!\n   Bid guts and tripe farewell! Look here! Behold!\n         (_pointing to the audience_)\n   The mighty assembled multitude before ye!\n\n     S.-S. (_with a grumble of indifference_).\n   I see 'em.\n\n     DEM. You shall be their lord and master,\n   The sovereign and the ruler of them all,\n   Of the assemblies and tribunals, fleets and armies;\n   You shall trample down the Senate under foot,\n   Confound and crush the generals and commanders,\n   Arrest, imprison, and confine in irons,\n   And feast and fornicate in the Council House.\n\n     S.-S. Are there any means of making a great man\n   Of a sausage-selling fellow such as I?\n\n     DEM. The very means you have, must make ye so,\n   Low breeding, vulgar birth, and impudence,\n   These, these must make ye, what you're meant to be.\n\n     S.-S. I can't imagine that I'm good for much.\n\n     DEM. Alas! But why do ye say so? What's the meaning\n   Of these misgivings? I discern within ye\n   A promise and an inward consciousness\n   Of greatness. Tell me truly: are ye allied\n   To the families of gentry?\n\n     S.-S. Naugh, not I;\n   I'm come from a common ordinary kindred,\n   Of the lower order.\n\n     DEM. What a happiness!\n   What a footing will it give ye! What a groundwork\n   For confidence and favour at your outset!\n\n     S.-S. But bless ye! only consider my education!\n   I can but barely read.... in a kind of way.\n\n     DEM. That makes against ye!--the only thing against ye--\n   The being able to read, in any way:\n   For now no lead nor influence is allowed\n   To liberal arts or learned education,\n   But to the brutal, base, and underbred.\n   Embrace then and hold fast the promises\n   Which the oracles of the gods announce to you.\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Knights. 155.--Translation by Frere.]\n\nWe have here an illustration, one among many that might be given, of the\npolitical equality that prevailed in Athens. It shows us how completely\nthat distinction between the military or governing, and the productive\nclass, which belonged to the normal Greek conception of the state, had\nbeen broken down, on the side at least of privilege and right, though\nnot on that of social estimation, in this most democratic of the ancient\nstates. Politically, the Athenian trader and the Athenian artisan was\nthe equal of the aristocrat of purest blood; and so far the government\nof Athens was a genuine democracy.\n\nBut so far only. For in Athens, as in every Greek state, the greater\npart of the population was unfree; and the government which was a\ndemocracy from the point of view of the freeman, was an oligarchy from\nthe point of view of the slave. For the slaves, by the nature of their\nposition, had no political rights; and they were more than half of the\npopulation. It is noticeable, however, that the freedom and\nindividuality which was characteristic of the Athenian citizen, appears\nto have reacted favourably on the position of the slaves. Not only had\nthey, to a certain extent, the protection of the law against the worst\nexcesses of their masters, but they were allowed a license of bearing\nand costume which would not have been tolerated in any other state. A\ncontemporary writer notes that in dress and general appearance Athenian\nslaves were not to be distinguished from citizens; that they were\npermitted perfect freedom of speech; and that it was open to them to\nacquire a fortune and to live in ease and luxury. In Sparta, he says,\nthe slave stands in fear of the freeman, but in Athens this is not the\ncase; and certainly the bearing of the slaves introduced into the\nAthenian comedy does not indicate any undue subservience. Slavery at the\nbest is an undemocratic institution; but in Athens it appears to have\nbeen made as democratic as its nature would admit.\n\nWe find then, in the Athenian state, the conception of equality pushed\nto the farthest extreme at all compatible with Greek ideas; pushed, we\nmay fairly say, at last to an undue excess; for the great days of Athens\nwere those when she was still under the influence of her aristocracy,\nand when the popular zeal evoked by her free institutions was directed\nby members of the leisured and cultivated class. The most glorious age\nof Athenian history closes with the death of Pericles; and Pericles was\na man of noble family, freely chosen, year after year, by virtue of his\npersonal qualities, to exercise over this democratic nation a\ndictatorship of character and brain. It is into his mouth that\nThucydides has put that great panegyric of Athens, which sets forth to\nall time the type of an ideal state and the record of what was at least\npartially achieved in the greatest of the Greek cities:\n\n\"Our form of government does not enter into rivalry with the\ninstitutions of others. We do not copy our neighbours, but are an\nexample to them. It is true that we are called a democracy, for the\nadministration is in the hands of the many and not of the few. But while\nthe law secures equal justice to all alike in their private disputes,\nthe claim of excellence is also recognised; and when a citizen is in any\nway distinguished, he is preferred to the public service, not as a\nmatter of privilege, but as the reward of merit. Neither is poverty a\nbar, but a man may benefit his country whatever be the obscurity of his\ncondition. There is no exclusiveness in our public life, and in our\nprivate intercourse we are not suspicious of one another, nor angry with\nour neighbour if he does what he likes; we do not put on sour looks at\nhim, which, though harmless, are not pleasant. While we are thus\nunconstrained in our private intercourse, a spirit of reverence pervades\nour public acts; we are prevented from doing wrong by respect for\nauthority and for the laws, having an especial regard for those which\nare ordained for the protection of the injured, as well as for those\nunwritten laws which bring upon the transgressor of them the reprobation\nof the general sentiment.\n\n\"And we have not forgotten to provide for our weary spirits many\nrelaxations from toil; we have regular games and sacrifices throughout\nthe year; at home the style of our life is refined; and the delight\nwhich we daily feel in all these things helps to banish melancholy.\nBecause of the greatness of our city the fruits of the whole earth flow\nin upon us, so that we enjoy the goods of other countries as freely as\nof our own.\n\n\"Then again, our military training is in many respects superior to that\nof our adversaries. Our city is thrown open to the world, and we never\nexpel a foreigner or prevent him from seeing or learning anything of\nwhich the secret if revealed to an enemy might profit him. We rely not\nupon management and trickery, but upon our own hearts and hands. And in\nthe matter of education, whereas they from early youth are always\nundergoing laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we live at\nease, and yet are ready to face the perils which they face.\n\n\"If then we prefer to meet danger with a light heart but without\nlaborious training, and with a courage which is gained by habit and not\nenforced by law, are we not greatly the gainers? Since we do not\nanticipate the pain, although when the hour comes, we can be as brave as\nthose who never allow themselves to rest; and thus too our city is\nequally admirable in peace and in war. For we are lovers of the\nbeautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without\nloss of manliness.\n\n\"Wealth we employ, not for talk and ostentation, but when there is a real\nuse for it. To avow poverty with us is no disgrace; the true disgrace is\nin doing nothing to avoid it. An Athenian citizen does not neglect the\nstate because he takes care of his own household; and even those of us\nwho are engaged in business have a very fair idea of politics. We alone\nregard a man who takes no interest in public affairs, not as a harmless,\nbut as a useless character; and if few of us are originators, we are all\nsound judges of a policy. The great impediment to action is, in our\nopinion, not discussion but the want of that knowledge which is gained\nby discussion preparatory to action. For we have a peculiar power of\nthinking before we act, and of acting too, whereas other men are\ncourageous from ignorance but hesitate upon reflection. And they are\nsurely to be esteemed the bravest spirits who have the clearest sense\nboth of the pains and pleasures of life, but do not on that account\nshrink from danger.\n\n\"To sum up, I say that Athens is the school of Hellas, and that the\nindividual Athenian in his own person seems to have the power of\nadapting himself to the most varied forms of action with the utmost\nversatility and grace. This is no passing and idle word, but truth and\nfact; and the assertion is verified by the position to which these\nqualities have raised the state. For in the hour of trial Athens alone\namong her contemporaries is superior to the report of her. No enemy who\ncomes against her is indignant at the reverses which he sustains at the\nhands of such a city; no subject complains that his masters are unworthy\nof him. And we shall assuredly not be without witnesses; there are\nmighty monuments of our power which will make us the wonder of this and\nof succeeding ages: we shall not need the praises of Homer or of any\nother panegyrist, whose poetry may please for the moment, although his\nrepresentation of the facts will not bear the light of day. For we have\ncompelled every land, every sea, to open a path for our valour, and have\neverywhere planted eternal memorials of our friendship and of our\nenmity.\" [Footnote: Thuc. ii. 37.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nAn impression so superb as this it is almost a pity to mar with the\ninevitable complement of disaster and decay. But our account of the\nAthenian polity would be misleading and incomplete if we did not\nindicate how the idea of equality, on which it turned, defeated itself,\nas did, in Sparta, the complementary idea of order, by the excesses of\nits own development. Already before the close of the fifth century, and\nwith reiterated emphasis in the earlier decades of the fourth, we hear\nfrom poets and orators praise of a glorious past that is dead, and\ndenunciations of a decadent present. The ancient training in gymnastics,\nwe are told, the ancient and generous culture of mind and soul, is\nneglected and despised by a generation of traders; reverence for age and\nauthority, even for law, has disappeared; and in the train of these have\ngone the virtues they engendered and nurtured. Cowardice has succeeded\nto courage, disorder to discipline; the place of the statesman is\nusurped by the demagogue; and instead of a nation of heroes, marshalled\nunder the supremacy of the wise and good, modern Athens presents to view\na disordered and competitive mob, bent only on turning each to his own\npersonal advantage the now corrupt machinery of administration and law.\n\nAnd however much exaggeration there may be in these denunciations and\nregrets, we know enough of the interior working of the institutions of\nAthens to see that she had to pay in licence and in fraud the bitter\nprice of equality and freedom. That to the influence of disinterested\nstatesmen succeeded, as the democracy accentuated itself, the tyranny of\nunscrupulous demagogues, is evidenced by the testimony, not only of the\nenemies of popular government, but by that of a democrat so convinced as\nDemosthenes. \"Since these orators have appeared,\" he says, \"who ask,\nWhat is your pleasure? what shall I move? how can I oblige you? the\npublic welfare is complimented away for a moment's popularity, and these\nare the results; the orators thrive, you are disgraced.... Anciently the\npeople, having the courage to be soldiers, controlled the statesmen, and\ndisposed of all emoluments; any of the rest were happy to receive from\nthe people his share of honour, office, or advantage. Now, contrariwise,\nthe statesmen dispose of emoluments; through them everything is done;\nyou, the people, enervated, stripped of treasure and allies, are become\nas underlings and hangers-on, happy if these persons dole you out show-\nmoney or send you paltry beeves; and, the unmanliest part of all, you\nare grateful for receiving your own.\" [Footnote: Dem. 01. iii.--\nTranslation by Kennedy.]\n\nAnd this indictment is amply confirmed from other sources. We know that\nthe populace was demoralised by payments from the public purse; that the\nfee for attendance in the Assembly attracted thither, as ready\ninstruments in the hands of ambitious men, the poorest and most degraded\nof the citizens; that the fees of jurors were the chief means of\nsubsistence for an indigent class, who had thus a direct interest in the\nmultiplication of suits; and that the city was infested by a race of\n\"sycophants\", whose profession was to manufacture frivolous and\nvexatious indictments. Of one of these men Demosthenes speaks as\nfollows:\n\n\"He cannot show any respectable or honest employment in which his life\nis engaged. His mind is not occupied in promoting any political good; he\nattends not to any trade, or husbandry, or other business; he is\nconnected with no one by ties of humanity or social union: but he walks\nthrough the market-place like a viper or a scorpion, with his sting up-\nlifted, hastening here and there, and looking out for someone whom he\nmay bring into a scrape, or fasten some calumny or mischief upon, and\nput in alarm in order to extort money.\" [Footnote: Demosth. in\nAristogeit. A. 62.--Translated by C. R. Kennedy.]\n\nFrom all this we may gather an idea of the way in which the Athenian\ndemocracy by its own development destroyed itself. Beginning, on its\nfirst emergence from an earlier aristocratic phase, with an energy that\ninspired without shattering the forms of discipline and law, it\ndissolved by degrees this coherent whole into an anarchy of individual\nwills, drawn deeper and deeper, in pursuit of mean and egoistic ends,\ninto political fraud and commercial chicanery, till the tradition of the\ngentleman and the soldier was choked by the dust of adventurers and\nswindlers, and the people, whose fathers had fought and prevailed at\nMarathon and Salamis, fell as they deserved, by treachery from within as\nmuch as by force from without, into the grasp of the Macedonian\nconqueror.\n\n\nSection 11. Sceptical Criticism of the Basis of the State.\n\nHaving thus supplemented our general account of the Greek conception of\nthe state by a description of their two most prominent polities, it\nremains for us in conclusion briefly to trace the negative criticism\nunder whose attack that conception threatened to dissolve.\n\nWe have quoted, in an earlier part of this chapter, a striking passage\nfrom Demosthenes, embodying that view of the objective validity of law\nunder which alone political institutions can be secure. \"That is law,\"\nsaid the orator, \"which all men ought to obey for many reasons, and\nespecially because every law is an invention and gift of the gods, a\nresolution of wise men, a correction of errors intentional and\nunintentional, a compact of the whole state, according to which all who\nbelong to the state ought to live.\" That is the conception of law which\nthe citizens of any stable state must be prepared substantially to\naccept, for it is the condition of that fundamental belief in\nestablished institutions which alone can make it worth while to adapt\nand to improve them. It was, accordingly, the conception tacitly, at\nleast, accepted in Greece, during the period of her constructive vigour.\nBut it is a conception constantly open to attack. For law, at any given\nmoment, even under the most favourable conditions, cannot do more than\napproximate to its own ideal. It is, at best, but a rough attempt at\nthat reconciliation of conflicting interests towards which the reason of\nmankind is always seeking; and even in well-ordered states there must\nalways be individuals and classes who resent, and rightly resent it, as\nunjust. But the Greek states, as we have seen, were not well-ordered; on\nthe contrary, they  were always on the verge, or in the act, of civil\nwar; and the conception of law, as \"a compact of the whole state,\naccording to which all who belong to the state ought to live,\" must have\nbeen, at the least, severely tried, in cities permanently divided into\ntwo factions, each intent not merely on defeating the other, but on\nexcluding it altogether from political rights. Such conditions, in fact,\nmust have irresistibly suggested the criticism, which always dogs the\nidea of the state, and against which its only defence is in a perpetual\nperfection of itself--the criticism that law, after all, is only the\nrule of the strong, and justice the name under which they gloze their\nusurpation. That is a point of view which, even apart from their\npolitical dissensions, would hardly have escaped the subtle intellect of\nthe Greeks; and in fact, from the close of the fifth century onwards, we\nfind it constantly canvassed and discussed.\n\nThe mind of Plato, in particular, was exercised by this contention; and\nit was, one may say, a main object of his teaching to rescue the idea of\njustice from identification with the special interest of the strong, and\nre-affirm it as the general interest of all. For this end, he takes\noccasion to state, with the utmost frankness and lucidity, the view\nwhich it is his intention to refute; and consequently it is in his works\nthat we find the fullest exposition of the destructive argument he seeks\nto answer.\n\nBriefly, that argument runs as follows:--It is the law of nature that\nthe strong shall rule; a law which every one recognises in fact, though\nevery one repudiates it in theory. Government therefore simply means the\nrule of the strong, and exists, no matter what its form, whether\ntyranny, oligarchy, or democracy, in the interests not of its subjects\nbut of itself. \"Justice\" and \"Law\" are the specious names it employs to\ncloak its own arbitrary will; they have no objective validity, no\nreference to the well-being of all; and it is only the weak and the\nfoolish on whom they impose. Strong and original natures sweep away this\ntangle of words, assert themselves in defiance of false shame, and claim\nthe right divine that is theirs by nature, to rule at their will by\nvirtue of their strength. \"Each government,\" says Thrasymachus in the\nRepublic, \"has its laws framed to suit its own interests; a democracy\nmaking democratic laws; an autocrat despotic laws, and so on. Now by\nthis procedure these governments have pronounced that what is for the\ninterest of themselves is just for their subjects; and whoever deviates\nfrom this, is chastised by them as guilty of illegality and injustice.\nTherefore, my good sir, my meaning is, that in all cities the same\nthing, namely, the interest of the established government is just. And\nsuperior strength, I presume, is to be found on the side of government.\nSo that the conclusion of right reasoning is, that the same thing,\nnamely, the interest of the stronger, is everywhere just.\" [Footnote:\nPlato, Rep. 338.--Translated by Davies and Vaughan.]\n\nHere is an argument which strikes at the root of all subordination to\nthe state, setting the subject against the ruler, the minority against\nthe majority, with an emphasis of opposition that admits of no\nconceivable reconciliation. And, as we have noticed, it was an argument\nto which the actual political conditions of Greece gave a strong show of\nplausibility.\n\nHow then did the constructive thinkers of Greece attempt to meet it?\n\nThe procedure adopted by Plato is curiously opposed to that which might\nseem natural to a modern thinker on politics. The scepticism which was\nto be met, having sprung from the extremity of class-antagonism, it\nmight be supposed that the cure would be sought in some sort of system\nof equality. Plato's idea is precisely the contrary. The distinction\nbetween classes he exaggerates to its highest point; only he would have\nit depend on degrees, not of wealth, but of excellence. In the ideal\nrepublic which he constructs as a type of a state where justice should\nreally rule, he sets an impassable gulf between the governing class and\nthe governed; each is specially trained and specially bred for its\nappropriate function; and the harmony between them is ensured by the\nrecognition, on either part, that each is in occupation of the place for\nwhich it is naturally fitted in that whole to which both alike are\nsubordinate. Such a state, no doubt, if ever it had been realised in\npractice, would have been a complete reply to the sceptical argument;\nfor it would have established a \"justice\" which was the expression not\nof the caprice of the governing class, but of the objective will of the\nwhole community. But in practice such a state was not realised in\nGreece; and the experience of the Greek world does not lead us to\nsuppose that it was capable of realisation. The system of stereotyping\nclasses--in a word, of caste--which has played so great a part in the\nhistory of the world, does no doubt embody a great truth, that of\nnatural inequality; and this truth, as we saw, was at the bottom of that\nGreek conception of the state, of which the \"Republic\" of Plato is an\nidealising caricature. But the problem is to make the inequality of\nnature really correspond to the inequality imposed by institutions. This\nproblem Plato hoped to solve by a strict public control of the marriage\nrelation, so that none should be born into any class who were not\nnaturally fitted to be members of it; but as a matter of fact the\ndifficulty has never been met; and the system of caste remains open to\nthe reproach that its \"justice\" is conventional and arbitrary, not the\nexpression of the objective nature and will of all classes and members\nof the community.\n\nThe attempt of Aristotle to construct a state that should be the\nembodiment of justice is similar to Plato's so far as the relation of\nclasses is concerned. He, too, postulates a governing class of soldiers\nand councillors, and a subject class of productive labourers. When,\nhowever, he turns from the ideal to practical politics, and considers\nmerely how to avoid the worst extremes of party antagonism, his solution\nis the simple and familiar one of the preponderance of the middle class.\nThe same view was dominant both in French and English politics from the\nyear 1830 onwards, and is only now being thrust aside by the democratic\nideal. In Greece it was never realised except as a passing phase in the\nperpetual flux of polities. And in fine it may be said that the problem\nof establishing a state which should be a concrete refutation of the\nsceptical criticism that \"justice\" is merely another name for force, was\none that was never solved in ancient Greece. The dissolution of the idea\nof the state was more a symptom than a cause of its failure in practice\nto harmonise its warring elements. And Greece, divided into conflicting\npolities, each of which again was divided within itself, passed on to\nMacedon and thence to Rome that task of reconciling the individual and\nthe class with the whole, about which the political history of the world\nturns.\n\n\nSection 12. Summary.\n\nWe have now given some account of the general character of the Greek\nstate, the ideas that underlay it, and the criticism of those ideas\nsuggested by the course of history and formulated by speculative\nthought. It remains to offer certain reflections on the political\nachievement of the Greeks, and its relation to our own ideas.\n\nThe fruitful and positive aspect of the Greek state, that which fastens\nupon it the eyes of later generations as upon a model, if not to be\ncopied, as least to be praised and admired, is that identification of\nthe individual citizen with the corporate life, which delivered him from\nthe narrow circle of personal interests into a sphere of wider views and\nhigher aims. The Greek citizen, as we have seen, in the best days of the\nbest states, in Athens for example in the age of Pericles, was at once a\nsoldier and a politician; body and mind alike were at his country's\nservice; and his whole ideal of conduct was inextricably bound up with\nhis intimate and personal participation in public affairs. If now with\nthis ideal we contrast the life of an average citizen in a modern state,\nthe absorption in private business and family concerns, the \"greasy\ndomesticity\" (to use a phrase of Byron's), that limits and clouds his\nvision of the world, we may well feel that the Greeks had achieved\nsomething which we have lost, and may even desire to return, so far as\nwe may, upon our steps, and to re-establish that interpenetration of\nprivate and public life by which the individual citizen was at once\ndepressed and glorified.\n\nIt may be doubted, however, whether such a procedure would be in any way\npossible or desirable. For in the first place, the existence of the\nGreek citizen depended upon that of an inferior class who were regarded\nnot as ends in themselves, but as means to his perfection. And that is\nan arrangement which runs directly counter to the modern ideal. All\nmodern societies aim, to this extent at least, at equality, that their\ntendency, so far as it is conscious and avowed, is not to separate off a\nprivileged class of citizens, set free by the labour of others to live\nthe perfect life, but rather to distribute impartially to all the\nburdens and advantages of the state, so that every one shall be at once\na labourer for himself and a citizen of the state. But this ideal is\nclearly incompatible with the Greek conception of the citizen. It\nimplies that the greater portion of every man's life must be devoted to\nsome kind of mechanical labour, whose immediate connection with the\npublic good, though certain, is remote and obscure; and that in\nconsequence a deliberate and unceasing preoccupation with the end of the\nstate becomes as a general rule impossible.\n\nAnd, in the second place, the mere complexity and size of a modern state\nis against the identification of the man with the citizen. For, on the\none hand, public issues are so large and so involved that it is only a\nfew who can hope to have any adequate comprehension of them; and on the\nother, the subdivision of functions is so minute that even when a man is\ndirectly employed in the service of the state his activity is confined\nto some highly specialised department. He must choose, for example,\nwhether he will be a clerk in the treasury or a soldier; but he cannot\ncertainly be both. In the Greek state any citizen could undertake,\nsimultaneously or in succession, and with complete comprehension and\nmastery, every one of the comparatively few and simple public offices;\nin a modern state such an arrangement has become impossible. The mere\nmechanical and physical conditions of our life preclude the ideal of the\nancient citizen.\n\nBut, it may be said, the activity of the citizen of a modern state\nshould be and increasingly will be concerned not with the whole but with\nthe part. By the development of local institutions he will come, more\nand more, to identify himself with the public life of his district and\nhis town; and will bear to that much the same relation as was borne by\nthe ancient Greek to his city state. Certainly so far as the limitation\nof area, and the simplicity and intelligibility of issues is concerned,\nsuch an analogy might be fairly pressed; and it is probably in\nconnection with such local areas that the average citizen does and\nincreasingly will become aware of his corporate relations. But, on the\nother hand, it can hardly be maintained that public business in this\nrestricted sense either could or should play the part in the life of the\nmodern man that it played in that of the ancient Greek. For local\nbusiness after all is a matter of sewers and parks; and however great\nthe importance of such matters may be, and however great their claim\nupon the attention of competent men, yet the kind of interest they\nawaken and the kind of faculties they employ can hardly be such as to\nlead to the identification of the individual ideal with that of public\nactivity. The life of the Greek citizen involved an exercise, the finest\nand most complete, of all his powers of body, soul, and mind; the same\ncan hardly be said of the life of a county councillor, even of the best\nand most conscientious of them. And the conclusion appears to be, that\nthat fusion of public and private life which was involved in the ideal\nof the Greek citizen, was a passing phase in the history of the world;\nthat the state can never occupy again the place in relation to the\nindividual which it held in the cities of the ancient world; and that an\nattempt to identify in a modern state the ideal of the man with that of\nthe citizen, would be an historical anachronism.\n\nNor is this a conclusion which need be regretted. For as the sphere of\nthe state shrinks, it is possible that that of the individual may be\nenlarged. The public side of human life, it may be supposed, will become\nmore and more mechanical, as our understanding and control of social\nforces grow. But every reduction to habit and rule of what were once\nspiritual functions, implies the liberation of the higher powers for a\npossible activity in other regions. And if advantage were taken of this\nopportunity, the inestimable compensation for the contraction to routine\nof the life of the citizen would be the expansion into new spheres of\nspeculation and passion of the freer and more individual life of the\nman.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF THE INDIVIDUAL\n\n\nSection 1. The Greek View of Manual Labour and Trade.\n\nIn our discussion of the Greek view of the State we noticed the tendency\nboth of the theory and the practice of the Greeks to separate the\ncitizens proper from the rest of the community as a distinct and\naristocratic class. And this tendency, we had occasion to observe, was\npartly to be attributed to the high conception which the Greeks had\nformed of the proper excellence of man, an excellence which it was the\nfunction of the citizen to realise in his own person, at the cost, if\nneed be, of the other members of the State. This Greek conception of the\nproper excellence of man it is now our purpose to examine more closely.\nThe chief point that strikes us about the Greek ideal is its\ncomprehensiveness. Our own word \"virtue\" is applied only to moral\nqualities; but the Greek word which we so translate should properly be\nrendered \"excellence,\" and includes a reference to the body as well as\nto the soul. A beautiful soul, housed in a beautiful body, and supplied\nwith all the external advantages necessary to produce and perpetuate\nsuch a combination--that is the Greek conception of well-being; and it\nis because labour with the hands or at the desk distorts or impairs the\nbody, and the petty cares of a calling pursued for bread pervert the\nsoul, that so strong a contempt was felt by the Greeks for manual labour\nand trade. \"The arts that are called mechanical,\" says Xenophon, \"are\nalso, and naturally enough, held in bad repute in our cities. For they\nspoil the bodies of workers and superintendents alike, compelling them\nto live sedentary indoor lives, and in some cases even to pass their\ndays by the fire. And as their bodies become effeminate, so do their\nsouls also grow less robust. Besides this, in such trades one has no\nleisure to devote to the care of one's friends or of one's city. So that\nthose who engage in them are thought to be bad backers of their friends\nand bad defenders of their country.\" [Footnote: Xen. Oec. iv. 3.]\n\nIn a similar spirit Plato asserts that a life of drudgery disfigures the\nbody and mars and enervates the soul; [Footnote: Plato, Rep. 495.] while\nAristotle defines a mechanical trade as one which \"renders the body and\nsoul or intellect of free persons unfit for the exercise and practice of\nvirtue;\" [Footnote: Arist. Pol. V. 1337 b 8.--Translated by Welldon.]\nand denies to the artisan not merely the proper excellence of man, but\nany excellence of any kind, on the plea that his occupation and status\nis unnatural, and that he misses even that reflex of human virtue which\na slave derives from his intimate connection with his master. [Footnote:\nIbid. i. 1260 a 34.]\n\nIf then the artisan was excluded from the citizenship in some of the\nGreek states, and even in the most democratic of them never altogether\nthrew off the stigma of inferiority attaching to his trade, the reason\nwas that the life he was compelled to lead was incompatible with the\nGreek conception of excellence. That conception we will now proceed to\nexamine a little more in detail.\n\n\nSection 2. Appreciation of External Goods.\n\nIn the first place, the Greek ideal required for its realisation a solid\nbasis of external Goods. It recognised frankly the dependence of man\nupon the world of sense, and the contribution to his happiness of\nelements over which he had at best but a partial control. Not that it\nplaced his Good outside himself, in riches, power, and other such\nappendages; but that it postulated certain gifts of fortune as necessary\nmeans to his self-development. Of these the chief were, a competence, to\nsecure him against sordid cares, health, to ensure his physical\nexcellence, and children, to support and protect him in old age.\nAristotle's definition of the happy man is \"one whose activity accords\nwith perfect virtue and who is adequately furnished with external goods,\nnot for a casual period of time but for a complete or perfect life-\ntime;\" [Footnote: Arist. Ethics. I. ii. 1101 a 14.--Translated by\nWelldon.] and he remarks, somewhat caustically, that those who say that\na man on the rack would be happy if only he were good, intentionally or\nunintentionally are talking nonsense. That here, as elsewhere, Aristotle\nrepresents the common Greek view we have abundant testimony from other\nsources. Even Plato, in whom there runs so clear a vein of asceticism,\nfollows the popular judgment in reckoning high among goods, first,\nhealth, then beauty, then skill and strength in physical exercises, and\nlastly wealth, if it be not blind but illumined by the eye of reason. To\nthese Goods must be added, to complete the scale, success and\nreputation, topics which are the constant theme of the poets' eulogy.\n\"Two things alone there are,\" says Pindar, \"that cherish life's bloom to\nits utmost sweetness amidst the fair flowers of wealth--to have good\nsuccess and to win therefore fair fame;\" [Footnote: Pind. Isth. iv. 14.--\nTranslated by E. Myers.] and the passage represents his habitual\nattitude. That the gifts of fortune, both personal and external, are an\nessential condition of excellence, is an axiom of the point of view of\nthe Greeks. But on the other hand we never find them misled into the\nconception that such gifts are an end in themselves, apart from the\npersonal qualities they are meant to support or adorn. The oriental\nideal of unlimited wealth and power, enjoyed merely for its own sake,\nnever appealed to their fine and lucid judgment. Nothing could better\nillustrate this point than the anecdote related by Herodotus of the\ninterview between Solon and Croesus, King of Lydia. Croesus, proud of\nhis boundless wealth, asks the Greek stranger who is the happiest man on\nearth? expecting to hear in reply his own name. Solon, however, answers\nwith the name of Tellus, the Athenian, giving his reasons in the\nfollowing speech:\n\n\"First, because his country was flourishing in his days, and he himself\nhad sons both beautiful and good, and he lived to see children born to\neach of them, and these children all grew up; and further because, after\na life spent in what our people look upon as comfort, his end was\nsurpassingly glorious. In a battle between the Athenians and their\nneighbours near Eleusis, he came to the assistance of his countrymen,\nrouted the foe, and died upon the field most gallantly. The Athenians\ngave him a public funeral on the spot where he fell, and paid him the\nhighest honours.\"\n\nLater on in the discussion Solon defines the happy man as he who \"Is\nwhole of limb, a stranger to disease, free from misfortune, happy in his\nchildren, and comely to look upon,\" and who also ends his life well.\n[Footnote: Herodotus, i. 30. 32.--Translated by Rawlinson]\n\n\nSection 3. Appreciation of Physical Qualities.\n\nWhile, however, the gifts of a happy fortune are an essential condition\nof the Greek ideal, they are not to be mistaken for the ideal itself. \"A\nbeautiful soul in a beautiful body,\" to recur to our former phrase, is\nthe real end and aim of their endeavour. \"Beautiful and good\" is their\nhabitual way of describing what we should call a gentleman; and no\nexpression could better represent what they admired. With ourselves, in\nspite of our addiction to athletics, the body takes a secondary place;\nafter a certain age, at least, there are few men who make its systematic\ncultivation an important factor of their life; and in our estimate of\nmerit physical qualities are accorded either none or the very smallest\nweight. It was otherwise with the Greeks; to them a good body was the\nnecessary correlative of a good soul. Balance was what they aimed at,\nbalance and harmony; and they could scarcely believe in the beauty of\nthe spirit, unless it were reflected in the beauty of the flesh. The\npoint is well put by Plato, the most spiritually minded of the Greeks,\nand the least apt to underprize the qualities of the soul.\n\n\"Surely then,\" he says, \"to him who has an eye to see, there can be no\nfairer spectacle than that of a man who combines the possession of moral\nbeauty in his soul with outward beauty of form, corresponding and\nharmonizing with the former, because the same great pattern enters into\nboth.\n\n\"There can be none so fair.\n\n\"And you will grant that what is fairest is loveliest?\n\n\"Undoubtedly it is.\n\n\"Then the truly musical person will love those who combine most\nperfectly moral and physical beauty, but will not love any one in whom\nthere is dissonance.\n\n\"No, not if there be any defect in the soul, but if it is only a bodily\nblemish, he may so bear with it as to be willing to regard it with\ncomplacency.\n\n\"I understand that you have now, or have had, a favourite of this kind;\nso I give way.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep. 402.--Translated by Davies and\nVaughan.]\n\nThe reluctance of the admission that a physical defect may possibly be\noverlooked is as significant as the rest of the passage. Body and soul,\nit is clear, are regarded as aspects of a single whole, so that a\nblemish in the one indicates and involves a blemish in the other. The\ntraining of the body is thus, in a sense, the training of the soul, and\ngymnastic and music, as Plato puts it, serve the same end, the\nproduction of a harmonious temperament.\n\n\nSection 4. Greek Athletics.\n\nIt is this conception which gives, or appears at least in the retrospect\nto give, a character so gracious and fine to Greek athletics. In fact,\nif we look more closely into the character of the public games in Greece\nwe see that they were so surrounded and transfused by an atmosphere of\nimagination that their appeal must have been as much to the aesthetic as\nto the physical sense. For in the first place those great gymnastic\ncontests in which all Hellas took part, and which gave the tone to their\nwhole athletic life, were primarily religious festivals. The Olympic and\nNemean Games were held in honour of Zeus, the Pythian, of Apollo, the\nIsthmean, of Poseidon. In the enclosures in which they took place stood\ntemples of the gods; and sacrifice, prayer, and choral hymn were the\nback-ground against which they were set. And since in Greece religion\nimplied art, in the wake of the athlete followed the sculptor and the\npoet. The colossal Zeus of Pheidias, the wonder of the ancient world,\nflashed from the precincts of Olympia its glory of ivory and gold;\ntemples and statues broke the brilliant light into colour and form; and\nunder that vibrating heaven of beauty, the loveliest nature crowned with\nthe finest art, shifted and shone what was in itself a perfect type of\nboth, the grace of harmonious motion in naked youths and men. For in\nGreek athletics, by virtue of the practice of contending nude, the\ncontest itself became a work of art; and not only did sculptors draw\nfrom it an inspiration such as has been felt by no later age, but to the\ncombatants themselves, and the spectators, the plastic beauty of the\nhuman form grew to be more than its prowess or its strength, and\ngymnastic became a training in aesthetics as much as, or more than, in\nphysical excellence.\n\nAnd as with the contest, so with the reward, everything was designed to\nappeal to the sensuous imagination. The prize formally adjudged was\nsymbolical only, a crown of olive; but the real triumph of the victor\nwas the ode in which his praise was sung, the procession of happy\ncomrades, and the evening festival, when, as Pindar has it, \"the lovely\nshining of the fair-faced moon beamed forth, and all the precinct\nsounded with songs of festal glee,\" [Footnote: Pindar, Ol. xi. 90.--\nTranslated by Myers] or \"beside Kastaly in the evening his name burnt\nbright, when the glad sounds of the Graces rose.\" [Footnote: Pindar,\nNem. 6. 65.]\n\nOf the Graces! for these were the powers who presided over the world of\nGreek athletics. Here, for example, is the opening of one of Pindar's\nodes, typical of the spirit in which he at least conceived the functions\nof the chronicler of sport:\n\n\"O ye who haunt the land of goodly steeds that drinketh of Kephisos'\nwaters, lusty Orchomenos' Queens renowned in song, O Graces, guardians\nof the Minyai's ancient race, hearken, for unto you I pray. For by your\ngift come unto men all pleasant things and sweet, and the wisdom of a\nman and his beauty, and the splendour of his fame. Yea, even gods\nwithout the Graces' aid rule never at feast or dance; but these have\ncharge of all things done in heaven, and beside Pythian Apollo of the\ngolden bow they have set their thrones, and worship the eternal majesty\nof the Olympian Father. O lady Aglaia, and thou Euphrosyne, lover of\nsong, children of the mightiest of the gods, listen and hear, and thou\nThalia delighting in sweet sounds, and look down upon this triumphal\ncompany, moving with light step under happy fate. In Lydian mood of\nmelody concerning Asopichos am I come hither to sing, for that through\nthee, Aglaia, in the Olympic games the Minyai's home is winner.\"\n[Footnote: Pindar, Ol. xiv.--Translated by Myers.]\n\nThis is but a single passage among many that might be quoted to\nillustrate the point we are endeavouring to bring into relief--the\nconscious predominance in the Greek games of that element of poetry and\nart which is either not present at all in modern sport or at best is a\nhappy accessory of chance. The modern man, and especially the\nEnglishman, addicts himself to athletics, as to other avocations, with a\ncertain stolidity of gaze on the immediate end which tends to confine\nhim to the purely physical view of his pursuit. The Greek, an artist by\nnature, lifted his not less strenuous sports into an air of finer\nsentiment, touched them with the poetry of legend and the grace of art\nand song, and even to his most brutal contests--for brutal some of them\nwere--imparted so rich an atmosphere of beauty, that they could be\nadmitted as fit themes for dedication to the Graces by the choice and\nspiritual genius of Pindar.\n\n\nSection 5. Greek Ethics--Identification of the Aesthetic and Ethical\nPoints of View.\n\nAnd as with the excellence of the body, so with that of the soul, the\nconception that dominated the mind of the Greeks was primarily\naesthetic. In speaking of their religion we have already remarked that\nthey had no sense of sin; and we may now add that they had no sense of\nduty. Moral virtue they conceived not as obedience to an external law, a\nsacrifice of the natural man to a power that in a sense is alien to\nhimself, but rather as the tempering into due proportion of the elements\nof which human nature is composed. The good man was the man who was\nbeautiful--beautiful in soul. \"Virtue,\" says Plato, \"will be a kind of\nhealth and beauty and good habit of the soul; and vice will be a disease\nand deformity and sickness of it.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep. 444,--\nTranslated by Davies and Vaughan.] It follows that it is as natural to\nseek virtue and to avoid vice as to seek health and to avoid disease.\nThere is no question of a struggle between opposite principles; the\ndistinction of good and evil is one of order or confusion, among\nelements which in themselves are neither good nor bad.\n\nThis conception of virtue we find expressed in many forms, but always\nwith the same underlying idea. A favourite watch-word with the Greeks is\nthe \"middle\" or \"mean\", the exact point of rightness between two\nextremes. \"Nothing in excess,\" was a motto inscribed over the temple of\nDelphi; and none could be more characteristic of the ideal of these\nlovers of proportion. Aristotle, indeed, has made it the basis of his\nwhole theory of ethics. In his conception, virtue is the mean, vice the\nexcess lying on either side--courage, for example, the mean between\nfoolhardiness and cowardice, temperance, between incontinence and\ninsensibility, generosity, between extravagance and meanness. The\nvarious phases of feeling and the various kinds of action he analyses\nminutely on this principle, understanding always by \"the mean\" that\nwhich adapts itself in the due proportion to the circumstances and\nrequirements of every case.\n\nThe interest of this view for us lies in its assumption that it is not\npassions or desires in themselves that must be regarded as bad, but only\ntheir disproportional or misdirected indulgence. Let us take, for\nexample, the case of the pleasures of sense. The puritan's rule is to\nabjure them altogether; to him they are absolutely wrong in themselves,\napart from all considerations of time and place. Aristotle, on the\ncontrary, enjoins not renunciation but temperance; and defines the\ntemperate man as one who \"holds a mean position in respect of pleasures.\nHe takes no pleasure in the things in which the licentious man takes\nmost pleasure; he rather dislikes them; nor does he take pleasure at all\nin wrong things, nor an excessive pleasure in anything that is pleasant,\nnor is he pained at the absence of such things, nor does he desire them,\nexcept perhaps in moderation, nor does he desire them more than is\nright, or at the wrong time, and so on. But he will be eager in a\nmoderate and right spirit for all such things as are pleasant and at the\nsame time conducive to health or to a sound bodily condition, and for\nall other pleasures, so long as they are not prejudicial to these or\ninconsistent with noble conduct or extravagant beyond his means. For\nunless a person limits himself in this way, he affects such pleasures\nmore than is right, whereas the temperate man follows the guidance of\nright reason.\" [Footnote: Arist. Ethics. III. 14.--1119 a 11.--Translated\nby Welldon.]\n\nAs another illustration of this point of view, we may take the case of\nanger. The Christian rule is never to resent an injury, but rather, in\nthe New Testament phrase, to \"turn the other cheek.\" Aristotle, while\nblaming the man who is unduly passionate, blames equally the man who is\ninsensitive; the thing to aim at is to be angry \"on the proper occasions\nand with the proper people in the proper manner and for the proper\nlength of time.\" And in this and all other cases the definition of what\nis proper must be left to the determination of \"the sensible man.\"\n\nThus, in place of a series of hard and fast rules, a rigid and\nuncompromising distinction of acts and affections into good and bad, the\nformer to be absolutely chosen and the latter absolutely eschewed,\nAristotle presents us with the general type of a subtle and shifting\nproblem, the solution of which must be worked out afresh by each\nindividual in each particular case. Conduct to him is a free and living\ncreature, and not a machine controlled by fixed laws. Every life is a\nwork of art shaped by the man who lives it; according to the faculty of\nthe artist will be the quality of his work, and no general rules can\nsupply the place of his own direct perception at every turn. The Good is\nthe right proportion, the right manner and occasion; the Bad is all that\nvaries from this \"right.\" But the elements of human nature in themselves\nare neither good nor bad; they are merely the raw material out of which\nthe one or the other may be shaped.\n\nThe idea thus formulated by Aristotle is typically Greek. In another\nform it is the basis of the ethical philosophy of Plato, who habitually\nregards virtue as a kind of \"order.\" \"The virtue of each thing,\" he\nsays, \"whether body or soul, instrument or creature, when given to them\nin the best way comes to them not by chance but as the result of the\norder and truth and art which are imparted to them.\" [Footnote: Plato,\nGorgias, 506 d.--Translated by Jowett] And the conception here\nindicated, is worked out in detail in his Republic. There, after\ndistinguishing in the soul three principles or powers, reason, passion,\nand desire, he defines justice as the maintenance among them of their\nproper mutual relation, each moving in its own place and doing its\nappropriate work as is, or should be, the case with the different\nclasses in a state.\n\n\"The just man will not permit the several principles within him to do\nany work but their own, nor allow the distinct classes in his soul to\ninterfere with each other, but will really set his house in order; and\nhaving gained the mastery over himself, will so regulate his own\ncharacter as to be on good terms with himself, and to set those three\nprinciples in tune together, as if they were verily three chords of a\nharmony, a higher and a lower and a middle, and whatever may lie between\nthese; and after he has bound all these together, and reduced the many\nelements of his nature to a real unity, as a temperate and duly\nharmonized man, he will then at length proceed to do whatever he may\nhave to do.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep. IV. 443.--Translation by Davies and\nVaughan.]\n\nPlato, it is true, in other parts of his work, approaches more closely\nto the dualistic conception of an absolute opposition between good and\nbad principles in man. Yet even so, he never altogether abandons that\naesthetic point of view which looks to the establishment of order among\nthe conflicting principles rather than to the annihilation of one by the\nother in an internecine conflict. The point may be illustrated by the\nfollowing passage, where the two horses represent respectively the\nelements of fleshly desire and spiritual passion, while the charioteer\nstands for the controlling reason; and where, it will be noticed, the\nultimate harmony is achieved, not by the complete eradication of desire,\nbut by its due subordination to the higher principle. Even Plato, the\nmost ascetic of the Greeks, is a Greek first and an ascetic afterwards.\n\n\"Of the nature of the soul, though her true form be ever a theme of\nlarge and more than mortal discourse, let me speak briefly, and in a\nfigure, and let the figure be composite--a pair of winged horses and a\ncharioteer. Now the winged horses and the charioteers of the gods are\nall of them noble and of noble descent, but those of other races are\nmixed; the human charioteer drives his in a pair; and one of them is\nnoble and of noble breed, and the other is ignoble and of ignoble breed;\nand the driving of them of necessity gives a great deal of trouble to\nhim.... The right hand horse is upright and cleanly made; he has a lofty\nneck and an aquiline nose; his colour is white, and his eyes dark; he is\na lover of honour and modesty and temperance, and the follower of true\nglory; he needs no touch of the whip, but is guided by word and\nadmonition only. The other is a crooked lumbering animal, put together\nanyhow; he has a short thick neck; he is flat-faced and of a dark\ncolour, with grey eyes and blood-red complexion; the mate of insolence\nand pride, shag-eared and deaf, hardly yielding to whip and spur. Now\nwhen the charioteer beholds the vision of love, and has his whole soul\nwarmed through sense, and is full of, the prickings and ticklings of\ndesire, the obedient steed, then as always under the government of\nshame, refrains from leaping on the beloved; but the other, heedless of\nthe blows of the whip, plunges and runs away, giving all manner of\ntrouble to his companion and the charioteer, whom he forces to approach\nthe beloved and to remember the joys of love. They at first indignantly\noppose him and will not be urged on to do terrible and unlawful deeds;\nbut at last, when he persists in plaguing them, they yield and agree to\ndo as he bids them. And now they are at the spot and behold the flashing\nbeauty of the beloved; which when the charioteer sees, his memory is\ncarried to the true beauty whom he beholds in company with Modesty like\nan image placed upon a holy pedestal He sees her, but he is afraid and\nfalls backwards in adoration, and by his fall is compelled to pull back\nthe reins with such violence as to bring both the steeds on their\nhaunches, the one willing and unresisting, the unruly one very\nunwilling; and when they have gone back a little, the one is overcome\nwith shame and wonder, and his whole soul is bathed in perspiration; the\nother, when the pain is over which the bridle and the fall had given\nhim, having with difficulty taken breath, is full of wrath and\nreproaches, which he heaps upon the charioteer and his fellow-steed, for\nwant of courage and manhood, declaring that they have been false to\ntheir agreement and guilty of desertion. Again they refuse, and again he\nurges them on, and will scarce yield to their prayer that he would wait\nuntil another time. When the appointed hour comes, they make as if they\nhad forgotten, and he reminds them, fighting and neighing and dragging\nthem on, until at length he on the same thoughts intent, forces them to\ndraw near again. And when they are near he stoops his head and puts up\nhis tail, and takes the bit in his teeth and pulls shamelessly. Then the\ncharioteer is worse off than ever; he falls back like a racer at the\nbarrier, and with a still more violent wrench drags the bit out of the\nteeth of the wild steed and covers his abusive jaws and tongue with\nblood, and forces his legs and haunches to the ground and punishes him\nsorely.\n\n\"And when this has happened several times and the villain has ceased\nfrom his wanton way, he is tamed and humbled and follows the will of the\ncharioteer, and when he sees the beautiful one he is ready to die of\nfear. And from that time forward the soul of the lover follows the\nbeloved in modesty and holy fear.\" [Footnote: Plato, Phaedrus. 246.--\nTranslated by Jowett.]\n\nEven from this passage, in spite of its dualistic hypothesis, but far\nmore clearly from the whole tenor of his work, we may perceive that\nPlato's description of virtue as an \"order\" of the soul is prompted by\nthe same conception, characteristically Greek, as Aristotle's account of\nvirtue as a \"mean.\" The view, as we said at the beginning, is properly\naesthetic rather than moral. It regards life less as a battle between\ntwo contending principles, in which victory means the annihilation of\nthe one, the altogether bad, by the other, the altogether good, than as\nthe maintenance of a balance between elements neutral in themselves but\ncapable, according as their relations are rightly ordered or the\nreverse, of producing either that harmony which is called virtue, or\nthat discord which is called vice.\n\nSuch being the conception of virtue characteristic of the Greeks, it\nfollows that the motive to pursue it can hardly have presented itself to\nthem in the form of what we call the \"sense of duty.\" For duty\nemphasises self-repression. Against the desires of man it sets a law of\nprohibition, a law which is not conceived as that of his own complete\nnature, asserting against a partial or disproportioned development the\nbalance and totality of the ideal, but rather as a rule imposed from\nwithout by a power distinct from himself, for the mortification, not the\nperfecting, of his natural impulses and aims. Duty emphasises self-\nrepression; the Greek view emphasised self-development. That \"health and\nbeauty and good habit of the soul,\" which is Plato's ideal, is as much\nits own recommendation tion to the natural man as is the health and\nbeauty of the body. Vice, on this view, is condemned because it is a\nfrustration of nature, virtue praised because it is her fulfilment; and\nthe motive throughout is simply that passion to realise oneself which is\ncommonly acknowledged as sufficient in the case of physical development,\nand which appeared sufficient to the Greeks in the case of the\ndevelopment of the soul.\n\n\nSection 6. The Greek View of Pleasure.\n\nFrom all this it follows clearly enough that the Greek ideal was far\nremoved from asceticism; but it might perhaps be supposed, on the other\nhand, that it came dangerously near to license. Nothing, however, could\nbe further from the case. That there were libertines among the Greeks,\nas everywhere else, goes without saying; but the conception that the\nGreek rule of life was to follow impulse and abandon restraint is a\nfigment of would-be \"Hellenists\" of our own time. The word which best\nsums up the ideal of the Greeks is \"temperance\"; \"the mean,\" \"order,\"\n\"harmony,\" as we saw, are its characteristic expressions; and the self-\nrealisation to which they aspired was not an anarchy of passion, but an\nordered evolution of the natural faculties under the strict control of a\nbalanced mind. The point may be illustrated by a reference to the\ntreatment of pleasure in the philosophy of Plato and of Aristotle.\n\nThe practice of the libertine is to identify pleasure and good in such a\nmanner that he pursues at any moment any pleasure that presents itself,\neschewing comparison and reflection, with all that might tend to check\nthat continuous flow of vivid and fresh sensations which he postulates\nas the end of life. The ideal of the Greeks, on the contrary, as\ninterpreted by their two greatest thinkers, while on the one hand it is\nso far opposed to asceticism that it requires pleasure as an essential\ncomplement of Good, on the other, is so far from identifying the two,\nthat it recognises an ordered scale of pleasures, and while rejecting\naltogether those at the lower end, admits the rest, not as in themselves\nconstituting the Good, but rather as harmless additions or at most as\nnecessary accompaniments of its operation. Plato, in the Republic,\ndistinguishes between the necessary and unnecessary pleasures, defining\nthe former as those derived from the gratification of appetites \"which\nwe cannot get rid of and whose satisfaction does us good\"--such, for\nexample, as the appetite for wholesome food; and the latter as those\nwhich belong to appetites \"which we can put away from us by early\ntraining; and the presence of which, besides, never does us any good,\nand in some cases does positive harm,\"--such, for example, as the\nappetite for delicate and luxurious dishes. [Footnote: Plato, Rep. VIII.\n558.--Translated by Davies and Vaughan.] The former he would admit, the\nlatter he excludes from his ideal of happiness. And though in a later\ndialogue, the Philebus, he goes further than this, and would exclude\nfrom the perfect life all pleasures except those which he describes as\n\"pure,\" that is those which attend upon the contemplation of form and\ncolour and sound, or which accompany intellectual activity; yet here, no\ndoubt, he is passing beyond the sphere of the practicable ideal, and his\ndistinct personal bias towards asceticism must be discounted if we are\nto take him as representative of the Greek view. His general contention,\nhowever, that pleasures must be ranked as higher and as lower, and that\nat the best they are not to be identified with the Good, is fully\naccepted by so typical a Greek as Aristotle. Aristotle, however, is\ncareful not to condemn any pleasure that is not definitely harmful. Even\n\"unnecessary\" pleasures, he admits, may be desirable in themselves; even\nthe deliberate creation of desire with a view to the enjoyment of\nsatisfying it may be admissible if it is not injurious. Still, there are\nkinds of pleasures which ought not to be pursued, and occasions and\nmethods of seeking it which are improper and perverse. Therefore the\nReason must be always at hand to check and to control; and the ultimate\ntest of true worth in pleasure, as in everything else, is the trained\njudgment of the good and sensible man.\n\n\nSection 7. Illustrations--Ischomachus; Socrates.\n\nSuch, then, was the character of the Greek conception of excellence. The\naccount we have given may seem somewhat abstract and ideal; but it gives\nthe general formula of the life which every cultivated Greek would at\nany rate have wished to live. And in confirmation of this point we may\nadduce the testimony of Xenophon, who has left us a description,\nevidently drawn from life, of what he conceives to be the perfect type\nof a \"gentleman.\"\n\nThe interest of the account lies in the fact, that Xenophon himself was\nclearly an \"average\" Greek, one, that is to say, of good natural parts,\nof perfectly normal faculties and tastes, undisturbed by any originality\nof character or mind, and representing therefore, as we may fairly\nassert, the ordinary views and aims of an upright and competent man of\nthe world. His description of the \"gentleman,\" therefore, may be taken\nas a representative account of the recognised ideal of all that class of\nAthenian citizens. And this is how the gentleman in question,\nIschomachus, describes his course of life.\n\n\"In the first place,\" he says, \"I worship the gods. Next, I endeavour to\nthe best of my ability, assisted by prayer, to get health and strength\nof body, reputation in the city, good will among my friends, honourable\nsecurity in battle and an honourable increase of fortune.\"\n\nAt this point Socrates, who is supposed to be the interlocutor,\ninterrupts. \"Do you really covet wealth,\" he asks, \"with all the trouble\nit involves?\" \"Certainly I do,\" is the reply, \"for it enables me to\nhonour the gods magnificently, to help my friends if they are in want,\nand to contribute to the resources of my country.\"\n\nHere definitely and precisely expressed is the ideal of the Athenian\ngentleman--the beautiful body housing the beautiful soul, the external\naids of fortune, friends, and the like, and the realisation of the\nindividual self in public activity. Upon it follows an account of the\nway in which Ischomachus was accustomed to pass his days. He rises\nearly, he tells us, to catch his friends before they go out, or walks to\nthe city to transact his necessary business. If he is not called into\ntown, he pays a visit to his farm, walking for the sake of exercise and\nsending on his horse. On his arrival he gives directions about the\nsowing, ploughing, or whatever it may be, and then mounting his horse\npractices his military exercises. Finally he returns home on foot,\nrunning part of the way, takes his bath, and sits down to a moderate\nmidday meal.\n\nThis combination of physical exercise, military training and business,\narouses the enthusiasm of Socrates. \"How right you are!\" he cries, \"and\nthe consequence is that you are as healthy and strong as we see you, and\none of the best riders and the wealthiest men in the country!\"\n\nThis little prosaic account of the daily life of an Athenian gentleman\nis completely in harmony with all we have said about the character of\nthe Greek ideal; but it comprehends only a part, and that the least\nspiritual, of that rich and many-sided excellence. It may be as well,\ntherefore, to append by way of complement the description of another\npersonality, exceptional indeed even among the Greeks, yet one which\nonly Greece could have produced--the personality of Socrates. No more\nstriking figure is presented to us in history, none has been more\nvividly portrayed, and none, in spite of the originality of mind which\nprovoked the hostility of the crowd, is more thoroughly Hellenic in\nevery aspect, physical, intellectual, and moral.\n\nThat Socrates was ugly in countenance was a defect which a Greek could\nnot fail to note, and his snub nose and big belly are matters of\nfrequent and jocose allusion. But apart from these defects his physique,\nit appears, was exceptionally good; he was sedulous in his attendance at\nthe gymnasia, and was noted for his powers of endurance and his courage\nand skill in war. Plato records it of him that in a hard winter on\ncampaign, when the common soldiers were muffling themselves in\nsheepskins and felt against the cold, he alone went about in his\nordinary cloak, and barefoot over the ice and snow; and he further\ndescribes his bearing in a retreat from a lost battle, how \"there you\nmight see him, just as he is in the streets of Athens, stalking like a\npelican and rolling his eyes, calmly contemplating enemies as well as\nfriends, and making very intelligible to anybody, even from a distance,\nthat whoever attacked him would be likely to meet with a stout\nresistance.\" [Footnote: Plato, Symp. 221 b.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nTo this efficiency of body corresponded, in accordance with the Greek\nideal, a perfect balance and harmony of soul. Plato, in a fine figure,\ncompares him to the wooden statues of Silenus, which concealed behind a\ngrotesque exterior beautiful golden images of the gods. Of these divine\nforms none was fairer in Socrates than that typical Greek virtue,\ntemperance. Without a touch of asceticism, he knew how to be contented\nwith a little. His diet he measured strictly with a view to health.\nNaturally abstemious, he could drink, when he chose, more than another\nman; but no one had ever seen him drunk. His affections were strong and\ndeep, but never led him away to seek his own gratification at the cost\nof those he loved. Without cutting himself off from any of the pleasures\nof life, a social man and a frequent guest at feasts, he preserved\nwithout an effort the supremacy of character and mind over the flesh he\nneither starved nor pampered. Here is a description by Plato of his\nbearing at the close of an all-night carouse, which may stand as a\nconcrete illustration not only of the character of Socrates, but of the\nmeaning of \"temperance\" as it was understood by the Greeks:\n\n\"Aristodemus said that Eryximachus, Phaedrus, and others went away--he\nhimself fell asleep, and as the nights were long took a good rest: he\nwas awakened towards day-break by a crowing of cocks, and when he awoke\nthe others were either asleep, or had gone away; there remained awake\nonly Socrates, Aristophanes, and Agathon, who were drinking out of a\nlarge goblet which they passed round, and Socrates was discoursing to\nthem. Aristodemus did not hear the beginning of the discourse, and he\nwas only half awake, but the chief thing which he remembered was\nSocrates compelling the other two to acknowledge that the genius of\ncomedy was the same as that of tragedy, and that the true artist in\ntragedy was an artist in comedy also. To this they assented, being\ndrowsy, and not quite following the argument. And first of all\nAristophanes dropped off, then, when the day was already dawning,\nAgathon. Socrates, when he had laid them to sleep, rose to depart:\nAristodemus, as his manner was, following him. At the Lyceum he took a\nbath, and passed the day as usual. In the evening he retired to rest at\nhis own house.\" [Footnote: Plato, Symposion, 223.--Translated by\nJowett.]\n\nWith this quality of temperance was combined in Socrates a rare measure\nof independence and moral courage. He was never an active politician;\nbut as every Athenian citizen was called, at some time or another, to\npublic office, he found himself, on a critical occasion, responsible for\nputting a certain proposition to the vote in the Assembly. It was a\nmoment of intense excitement. A great victory had just been won; but the\ngenerals who had achieved the success had neglected to recover the\ncorpses of the dead or to save the ship-wrecked. It was proposed to take\na vote of life or death on all the generals collectively. Socrates, as\nit happened, was one of the committee whose duty it was to put the\nquestion to the Assembly. But the proposition was in itself illegal, and\nSocrates with some other members of the committee, refused to submit it\nto the vote. Every kind of pressure was brought to bear upon the\nrecalcitrant officers; orators threatened, friends besought, the mob\nclamoured and denounced. Finally all but Socrates gave way. He alone, an\nold man, in office for the first time, had the courage to obey his\nconscience and the law in face of an angry populace crying for blood.\n\nAnd as he could stand against a mob, so he could stand against a despot.\nAt the time when Athens was ruled by the thirty tyrants he was ordered,\nwith four others, to arrest a man whom the authorities wished to put out\nof the way. The man was guilty of no crime, and Socrates refused. \"I\nwent quietly home,\" he says, \"and no doubt I should have been put to\ndeath for it, if the government had not shortly after come to an end.\"\n\nThese, however, were exceptional episodes in the career of a man who was\nnever a prominent politician. The main interest of Socrates was\nintellectual and moral; an interest, however, rather practical than\nspeculative. For though he was charged in his indictment with preaching\natheism, he appears in fact to have concerned himself little or nothing\nwith either theological or physical inquiries. He was careful in his\nobservance of all prescribed religious rites, and probably accepted the\ngods as powers of the natural world and authors of human institutions\nand laws. His originality lay not in any purely speculative views, but\nin the pertinacious curiosity, practical in its origin and aim, with\nwhich he attacked and sifted the ethical conceptions of his time: \"What\nis justice?\" \"What is piety?\" \"What is temperance?\"--these were the\nkinds of questions he never tired of raising, pointing out\ncontradictions and inconsistencies in current ideas, and awakening\ndoubts which if negative in form were positive and fruitful in effect.\n\nHis method in pursuing these inquiries was that of cross-examination. In\nthe streets, in the market, in the gymnasia, at meetings grave and gay,\nin season or out of season, he raised his points of definition. The city\nwas in a ferment around him. Young men and boys followed and hung on his\nlips wherever he went. By the charm of his personality, his gracious\ncourtesy and wit, and the large and generous atmosphere of a sympathy\nalways at hand to temper to particular persons the rigours of a\ngeneralising logic, he drew to himself, with a fascination not more of\nthe intellect than of the heart, all that was best and brightest in the\nyouth of Athens. His relation to his young disciples was that of a lover\nand a friend; and the stimulus given by his dialectics to their keen and\neager minds was supplemented and reinforced by the appeal to their\nadmiration and love of his sweet and virile personality.\n\nOnly in Ancient Athens, perhaps, could such a character and such\nconditions have met. The sociable out-door city life; the meeting places\nin the open air, and especially the gymnasia, frequented by young and\nold not more for exercise of the body than for recreation of the mind;\nthe nimble and versatile Athenian wits trained to preternatural\nacuteness by the debates of the law courts and the Assembly; all this\nwas exactly the environment fitted to develop and sustain a genius at\nonce so subtle and so humane as that of Socrates. It is the concrete\npresentation of this city-life that lends so peculiar a charm to the\ndialogues of Plato. The spirit of metaphysics puts on the human form;\nand Dialectic walks the streets and contends in the palaestra. It would\nbe impossible to convey by citation the cumulative effect of this\nconstant reference in Plato to a human background; but a single excerpt\nmay perhaps help us to realise the conditions under which Socrates lived\nand worked. Here, then, is a description of the scene in one of those\ngymnasia in which he was wont to hold his conversations:\n\n\"Upon entering we found that the boys had just been sacrificing; and\nthis part of the festival was nearly at an end. They were all in white\narray, and games at dice were going on among them. Most of them were in\nthe outer court amusing themselves; but some were in a corner of the\nApodyterium playing at odd and even with a number of dice, which they\ntook out of little wicker baskets. There was also a circle of lookers-\non, one of whom was Lysis. He was standing among the other boys and\nyouths, having a crown upon his head, like a fair vision, and not less\nworthy of praise for his goodness than for his beauty. We left them, and\nwent over to the opposite side of the room, where, finding a quiet\nplace, we sat down; and then we began to talk. This attracted Lysis, who\nwas constantly turning round to look at us--he was evidently wanting to\ncome to us. For a time he hesitated and had not the courage to come\nalone; but first of all, his friend Menexenus came in out of the court\nin the interval of his play, and when he saw Ctesippus and myself, came\nand sat by us; and then Lysis, seeing him, followed, and sat down with\nhim, and the other boys joined.\n\n\"I turned to Menexenus, and said: 'Son of Demophon, which of you two\nyouths is the elder?'\n\n\"'That is a matter of dispute between us,' he said.\n\n\"'And which is the nobler? Is that a matter of dispute too?'\n\n\"'Yes, certainly.'\n\n\"'And another disputed point is, which is the fairer?'\n\n\"The two boys laughed.\n\n\"'I shall not ask which is the richer,' I said; 'for you two are\nfriends, are you not?'\n\n\"'Certainly,' they replied.\n\n\"'And friends have all things in common, so that one of you can be no\nricher than the other, if you say truly that you are friends.'\n\n\"They assented. I was about to ask which was the greater of the two, and\nwhich was the wiser of the two; but at this moment Menexenus was called\naway by some one who came and said that the gymnastic-master wanted him.\nI supposed that he had to offer sacrifice. So he went away and I asked\nLysis some more questions.\" [Footnote: Plato, Lysis 206 e.--Translated\nby Jowett]\n\nSuch were the scenes in which Socrates passed his life. Of his influence\nit is hardly necessary here to speak at length. In the well-known\nmetaphor put into his mouth by Plato, he was the \"gad-fly\" of the\nAthenian people. To prick intellectual lethargy, to force people to\nthink, and especially to think about the conceptions with which they\nsupposed themselves to be most familiar, those which guided their\nconduct in private and public affairs--justice expediency, honesty, and\nthe like--such was the constant object of his life. That he should have\nmade enemies, that he should have been misunderstood, that he should\nhave been accused of undermining the foundations of morality and\nreligion, is natural and intelligible enough; and it was on these\ngrounds that he was condemned to death. His conduct at his trial was of\na piece with the rest of his life. The customary arts of the pleader,\nthe appeal to the sympathies of the public, the introduction into court\nof weeping wife and children, he rejected as unworthy of himself and of\nhis cause. His defence was a simple exposition of the character and the\naims of his life; so far from being a criminal he asserted that he was a\nbenefactor of the Athenian people; and having, after his condemnation,\nto suggest the sentence he thought appropriate, he proposed that he\nshould be supported at the public expense as one who had deserved well\nof his country. After his sentence to death, having to wait thirty days\nfor its execution, he showed no change from his customary cheerfulness,\npassing his time in conversation with his friends. So far from\nregretting his fate he rather congratulated himself that he would escape\nthe decadence that attends upon old age; and he had, if we may trust\nPlato, a fair and confident assurance that a happy life awaited him\nbeyond. He died, according to the merciful law of Athens, by drinking\nhemlock; \"the wisest and justest and best,\" in Plato's judgment, \"of all\nthe men that I have ever known.\"\n\nWe have dwelt thus long on the personality of Socrates, familiar though\nit be, not only on account of its intrinsic interest, but also because\nit is peculiarly Hellenic. That sunny and frank intelligence, bathed, as\nit were, in the open air, a gracious blossom springing from the root of\nphysical health, that unique and perfect balance of body and soul,\npassion and intellect, represent, against the brilliant setting of\nAthenian life, the highest achievement of the civilisation of Greece.\nThe figure of Socrates, no doubt, has been idealised by Plato, but it is\nnone the less significant of the trend of Hellenic life. No other people\ncould have conceived such an ideal; no other could have gone so far\ntowards its realisation.\n\n\nSection 8. The Greek View of Woman.\n\nIn the preceding account we have attempted to give some conception of\nthe Greek ideal for the individual man. It is now time to remind\nourselves that that ideal was only supposed to be proper to a small\nclass--the class of soldier-citizens. Artisans and slaves, as we have\nseen, had no participation in it; neither, and that is our next point,\nhad women.\n\nNothing more profoundly distinguishes the Hellenic from the modern view\nof life than the estimate in which women were held by the Greeks. Their\nopinion on this point was partly the cause and partly the effect of that\npreponderance of the idea of the State on which we have already dwelt,\nand from which it followed naturally enough that marriage should be\nregarded primarily as a means of producing healthy and efficient\ncitizens. This view is best illustrated by the institutions of such a\nState as Sparta, where, as we saw, the woman was specially trained for\nmaternity, and connections outside the marriage tie were sanctioned by\ncustom and opinion, if they were such as were likely to lead to healthy\noffspring. Further it may be noted that in almost every State the\nexposure of deformed or sickly infants was encouraged by law, the child\nbeing thus regarded, from the beginning, as a member of the State,\nrather than as a member of the family.\n\nThe same view is reflected in the speculations of political\nphilosophers. Plato, indeed, in his Republic, goes so far as to\neliminate the family relation altogether. Not only is the whole\nconnection between men and women to be regulated by the State, in\nrespect both of the persons and of the limit of age within which they\nmay associate, but the children as soon as they are born are to be\ncarried off to a common nursery, there to be reared together,\nundistinguished by the mothers, who will suckle indifferently any infant\nthat might happen to be assigned to them for the purpose. Here, as in\nother instances, Plato goes far beyond the limits set by the current\nsentiment of the Greeks, and in his later work is reluctantly\nconstrained to abandon his scheme of community of wives and children.\nYet even there he makes it compulsory on every man to marry between the\nages of thirty and thirty-five, under penalty of fine and civil\ndisabilities. Plato, no doubt, as we have said, exaggerates the opinions\nof his time; but the view, which he pushes to its extreme, of the\nsubordination of the family to the State, was one, as we have already\npointed out, which did predominate in Greece. It reappears in a soberer\nform in the treatise of Aristotle. He too would regulate by law both the\nage at which marriages should take place and the number of children that\nshould be produced, and would have all deformed infants exposed. And\nhere, no doubt, he is speaking in conformity if not with the practice,\nat least with the feeling of Greece. The modern conception that the\nmarriage relation is a matter of private concern, and that any\nindividual has a right to wed whom and when he will, and to produce\nchildren at his own discretion, regardless of all considerations of\nhealth and decency, was one altogether alien to the Greeks. In theory at\nleast, and to some extent in practice (as for example in the case of\nSparta), they recognised that the production of children was a business\nof supreme import to the State, and that it was right and proper that it\nshould be regulated by law with a view to the advantage of the whole\ncommunity.\n\n     *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd if now we turn from considering the family in its relation to the\nState to regard it in its relation to the individual, we are struck once\nmore by a divergence from the modern point of view, or rather from the\nview which is supposed to prevail, particularly by writers of fiction,\nat any rate in modern English life. In ancient Greece, so far as our\nknowledge goes, there was little or no romance connected with the\nmarriage tie. Marriage was a means of producing legitimate children;\nthat is how it is defined by Demosthenes; and we have no evidence that\nit was ever regarded as anything more. In Athens we know that marriages\nwere commonly arranged by the father, much as they are in modern France,\non grounds of age, property, connection and the like, and without any\nregard for the inclination of the parties concerned. And an interesting\npassage in Xenophon indicates a point of view quite consonant with this\naccepted practice. God, he says, ordained the institution of marriage;\nbut on what grounds? Not in the least for the sake of the personal\nrelation that might be established between the husband and wife, but for\nends quite external and indifferent to any affection that might exist\nbetween them. First, for the perpetuation of the human race; secondly,\nto raise up protectors for the father in his old age; thirdly, to secure\nan appropriate division of labour, the man performing the outdoor work,\nthe woman guarding and superintending at home, and each thus fulfilling\nduly the function for which they were designed by nature. This eminently\nprosaic way of conceiving the marriage relation, is also, it would seem,\neminently Greek; and it leads us to consider more particularly the\nopinion prevalent in Greece of the nature and duty of woman in general.\n\nHere the first point to be noticed is the wide difference of the view\nrepresented in the Homeric poems from that which meets us in the\nhistoric period. Readers of the Iliad and the Odyssey will find depicted\nthere, amid all the barbarity of an age of rapine and war, relations\nbetween men and women so tender, faithful and beautiful, that they may\nalmost stand as universal types of the ultimate human ideal. Such for\nexample is the relation between Odysseus and Penelope, the wife waiting\nyear by year for the husband whose fate is unknown, wooed in vain by\nsuitors who waste her substance and wear her life, nightly \"watering her\nbed with her tears\" for twenty weary years, till at last the wanderer\nreturns, and \"at once her knees were loosened and her heart melted\nwithin her... and she fell a weeping and ran straight towards him, and\ncast her hands about his neck, and kissed his head;\" for \"even as the\nsight of the land is welcome to mariners, so welcome to her was the\nsight of her lord, and her white arms would never quite leave hold of\nhis neck.\" [Footnote: Odyss. xxiii. 205, 231.--Translated by Butcher and\nLang.]\n\nSuch, again, is the relation between Hector and Andromache as described\nin the well-known scene of the Iliad, where the wife comes out with her\nbabe to take leave of the husband on his way to battle. \"It were better\nfor me,\" she cries, \"to go down to the grave if I lose thee; for never\nwill any comfort be mine, when once thou, even thou, hast met thy fate,\nbut only sorrow..... Thou art to me father and lady mother, yea, and\nbrother, even as thou art my goodly husband. Come now, have pity and\nabide here upon the tower, lest thou make thy child an orphan and thy\nwife a widow.\" Hector answers with the plea of honour. He cannot draw\nback, but he foresees defeat; and in his anticipation of the future\nnothing is so bitter as the fate he fears for his wife. \"Yet doth the\nconquest of the Trojans hereafter not so much trouble me, neither\nHekabe's own, neither King Priam's, neither my brethren's, the many and\nbrave that shall fall in the dust before their foemen, as doth thine\nanguish in the day when some mail-clad Achaian shall lead thee weeping\nand rob thee of the light of freedom.... But me in death may the heaped-\nup earth be covering, ere I hear thy crying and thy carrying into\ncaptivity.\" [Footnote: Iliad vi. 450.--Translated by Lang, Leaf and\nMyers.]\n\nBut most striking of all the portraits of women to be found in Homer,\nand most typical of a frank and healthy relation between the sexes, is\nthe account of Nausicaa given in the Odyssey. Ulysses, shipwrecked and\nnaked, battered and covered with brine, surprises Nausicaa and her\nmaidens as they are playing at ball on the shore. The attendants run\naway, but Nausicaa remains to hear what the stranger has to say. He asks\nher for shelter and clothing; and she grants the request with an\nexquisite courtesy and a freedom from all embarrassment which becomes\nonly the more marked and the more delightful when, as she sees him\nemerge from the bath, clothed and beautiful, she cannot restrain the\nexclamation \"would that such a one might be called my husband, dwelling\nhere, and that it might please him here to abide.\" [Footnote: Od. vi.\n244.--Translated by Butcher and Lang.] About the whole scene there is a\nfreshness and a fragrance as of early morning, and a tone so natural,\nfree and frank, that in the face of this rustic idyl the later centuries\nsicken and faint, like candle-light in the splendour of the dawn.\n\nIf we had only Homer to give us our ideas of the Greeks, we might\nconclude, from such passages as these, that they had a conception of\nwoman and of her relation to man, finer and nobler, in some respects,\nthan that of modern times. But in fact the Homeric poems represent a\ncivilisation which had passed away before the opening of the period with\nwhich at present we are chiefly concerned. And in the interval, for\nreasons which we need not here attempt to state, a change had taken\nplace in the whole way of regarding the female sex. So far, at any rate,\nas our authorities enable us to judge, woman, in the historic age, was\nconceived to be so inferior to man that he recognised in her no other\nend than to minister to his pleasure or to become the mother of his\nchildren. Romance and the higher companionship of intellect and spirit\ndo not appear (with certain notable exceptions) to have been commonly\nsought or found in this relation.\n\nWoman, in fact, was regarded as a means, not as an end; and was treated\nin a manner consonant with this view. Of this estimate many\nillustrations might be adduced from the writers of the fifth and fourth\ncenturies. Plato, for example, classes together \"children, women, and\nservants,\" [Footnote: Plato, Republic 431 c.] and states generally that\nthere is no branch of human industry in which the female sex is not\ninferior to the male. [Footnote: Ibid. 455 c.] Similarly, Aristotle\ninsists again and again on the natural inferiority of woman, and\nillustrates it by such quaint observations as the following: \"a man\nwould be considered a coward who was only as brave as a brave woman, and\na woman as a chatterbox who was only as modest as a good man.\"\n[Footnote: Arist. Pol. III. 1277 b 21.--Translated by Welldon.] But the\nmost striking example, perhaps, because the most unconscious, of this\nhabitual way of regarding women is to be found in the funeral oration\nput by Thucydides into the mouth of Pericles, where the speaker, after\nsuggesting what consolation he can to the fathers of the slain, turns to\nthe women with the brief but significant exhortation: \"If I am to speak\nof womanly virtues to those of you who will henceforth be widows, let me\nsum them up in one short admonition: To a woman not to show more\nweakness than is natural to her sex is a great glory, and not to be\ntalked about for good or for evil among men.\" [Footnote: Thucydides ii.\n45.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nThe sentiments of the poets are less admissible as evidence. But some of\nthem are so extreme that they may be adduced as a further indication of\na point of view whose prevalence alone could render them even\ndramatically plausible. Such for example is the remark which Euripides\nputs into the mouth of his Medea--\"women are impotent for good, but\nclever contrivers of all evil\" [Footnote: Euripides, Medea. 406.]; or\nthat of one of the characters of Menander, \"a woman is necessarily an\nevil, and he is a lucky man who catches her in the mildest form.\" While\nthe general Greek view of the dependence of woman on man is well\nexpressed in the words of Aethra, in the \"Suppliants\" of Euripides--\"it\nis proper for women who are wise to let men act for them in everything.\"\n[Footnote: Euripides, Hik. 40.]\n\nIn accordance with this conception of the inferiority of the female sex,\nand partly as a cause, partly as an effect of it, we find that the\nposition of the wife in ancient Greece was simply that of the domestic\ndrudge. To stay at home and mind the house was her recognised ideal. \"A\nfree woman should be bounded by the street door,\" says one of the\ncharacters in Menander; and another writer discriminates as follows the\nfunctions of the two sexes:--\"War, politics, and public speaking are the\nsphere of man; that of woman is to keep house, to stay at home and to\nreceive and tend her husband.\" We are not surprised, therefore, to find\nthat the symbol of woman is the tortoise; and in the following burlesque\npassage from Aristophanes we shall recognise, in spite of the touch of\ncaricature, the genuine features of the Greek wife. Praxagora is\nrecounting the merits and services of women:\n\n\"They dip their wool in hot water according to the ancient plan, all of\nthem without exception, and never make the slightest innovation. They\nsit and cook, as of old. They carry upon their heads, as of old. They\nconduct the Themophoriae, as of old. They wear out their husbands, as of\nold. They buy sweets, as of old. They take their wine neat, as of old.\"\n[Footnote: Aristophanes, Eccles. 215.]\n\nAnd that this was also the kind of ideal approved by their lords and\nmasters, and that any attempt to pass beyond it was resented, is\namusingly illustrated in the following extract from the same poet, where\nLysistrata explains the growing indignation of the women at the bad\nconduct of affairs by the men, and the way in which their attempts to\ninterfere were resented. The comments of the \"magistrate\" typify, of\ncourse, the man's point of view.\n\n     \"Think of our old moderation and gentleness, think how we\n                 bore with your pranks, and were still,\n     All through the days of your former prognacity, all through\n                 the war that is over and spent:\n     Not that (be sure) we approved of your policy; never our\n                 griefs you allowed us to vent.\n     Well we perceived your mistakes and mismanagement. Often\n                 at home on our housekeeping cares,\n     Often we heard of some foolish proposal you made for conducting\n                 the public affairs.\n     Then would we question you mildly and pleasantly, inwardly\n                 grieving, but outwardly gay;\n     'Husband, how goes it abroad?' we would ask of him; 'what\n                 have ye done in Assembly to-day?'\n     'What would ye write on the side of the Treaty-stone?' Husband\n                 says angrily, 'What's that to you?\n     You hold your tongue!' And I held it accordingly.\n\n                          STRATYLLIS.\n\n             That is a thing which I never would do!\n\n                          MAGISTRATE.\n\n         Ma'am, if you hadn't you'd soon have repented it.\n\n                          LYSISTRATA.\n\n             Therefore I held it, and spake not a word.\n     Soon of another tremendous absurdity, wilder and worse\n                 than the former we heard.\n     'Husband,' I say, with a tender solicitude, 'Why have you\n                 passed such a foolish decree?'\n     Viciously, moodily, glaring askance at me, 'Stick to your\n                 spinning, my mistress,' says he,\n     'Else you will speedily find it the worse for you! war is\n                 the care and the business of men!'\n\n                          MAGISTRATE.\n\n           Zeus! 'twas a worthy reply, and an excellent!\n\n                          LYSISTRATA.\n\n           What! you unfortunate, shall we not then,\n     Then, when we see you perplexed and incompetent, shall\n                 we not tender advice to the state!\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Lysistrata. 507.--Translated by B. B.\n          Rogers.]\n\nThe conception thus indicated in burlesque of the proper place of woman\nis expressed more seriously, from the point of view of the average man\nin the \"Oeconomicus\" of Xenophon. Ischomachus, the hero of that work,\nwith whom we have already made acquaintance, gives an account of his own\nwife, and of the way in which he had trained her. When he married her,\nhe explains, she was not yet fifteen, and had been brought up with the\nutmost care \"that she might see, hear, and ask as little as possible.\"\nHer accomplishments were weaving and a sufficient acquaintance with all\nthat concerns the stomach; and her attitude towards her husband she\nexpressed in the single phrase: \"Everything rests with you; my duty, my\nmother said, is simply to be modest.\" Ischomachus proceeds to explain to\nher the place he expects her to fill; she is to suckle his children, to\ncook, and to superintend the house; and for this purpose God has given\nher special gifts, different from but not necessarily inferior to those\nof man. Husband and wife naturally supply one another's deficiencies;\nand if the wife perform her function worthily she may even make herself\nthe ruling partner, and be sure that as she grows older she will be held\nnot less but more in honour, as the guardian of her children and the\nstewardess of her husband's goods.--In Xenophon's view, in fact, the\ninferiority of the woman almost disappears; and the sentiment\napproximates closely to that of Tennyson--\n\n                     \"either sex alone\n     Is half itself, and in true marriage lies\n     Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils\n     Defect in each.\"\n\nSuch a conception, however, of the \"complementary\" relation of woman to\nman, does not exclude a conviction of her essential inferiority. And\nthis conviction, it can hardly be disputed, was a cardinal point in the\nGreek view of life.\n\n\nSection 9. Protests against the Common View of Woman.\n\nNevertheless, there are not wanting indications, both in theory and\npractice, of a protest against it. In Sparta as we have already noticed,\ngirls, instead of being confined to the house, were brought up in the\nopen air among the boys, trained in gymnastics and accustomed to run and\nwrestle naked. And Plato, modelling his view upon this experience, makes\nno distinction of the sexes in his ideal republic. Women, he admits, are\ngenerally inferior to men, but they have similar, if lower, capacities\nand powers. There is no occupation or art for which they may not be\nfitted by nature and education; and he would therefore have them take\ntheir share in government and war, as well as in the various mechanical\ntrades.\" None of the occupations,\" he says, \"which comprehend the\nordering of a state, belong to woman as woman, nor yet to man as man;\nbut natural gifts are to be found here and there, in both sexes alike;\nand, so far as her nature is concerned, the woman is admissible to all\npursuits as well as the man; though in all of them the woman is weaker\nthan the man.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep, 455 d.--Translated by Davies and\nVaughan.]\n\nIn adopting this attitude Plato stands alone not only among Greeks, but\none might almost say, among mankind, till we come to the latest views of\nthe nineteenth century. But there is another Greek, the poet Euripides,\nwho, without advancing any theory about the proper position of women,\nyet displays so intimate an understanding of their difficulties, and so\nwarm and close a sympathy with their griefs, that some of his utterances\nmay stand to all time as documents of the dumb and age-long protest of\nthe weaker against the stronger sex. In illustration we may cite the\nfollowing lines from the \"Medea,\" applicable, _mutatis mutandis_,\nto how many generations of suffering wives?\n\n\"Of all things that have life and sense we women are most wretched. For\nwe are compelled to buy with gold a husband who is also--worst of all!--\nthe master of our person. And on his character, good or bad, our whole\nfate depends. For divorce is regarded as a disgrace to a woman and she\ncannot repudiate her husband. Then coming as she does into the midst of\nmanners and customs strange to her, she would need the gift of\ndivination--unless she has been taught at home--to know how best to\ntreat her bed-fellow. And if we manage so well that our husband remains\nfaithful to us, and does not break away, we may think ourselves\nfortunate; if not, there is nothing for it but death. A man when he is\nvexed at home can go out and find relief among his friends or\nacquaintances; but we women have none to look to but him. They tell us\nwe live a sheltered life at home while they go to the wars; but that is\nnonsense. For I would rather go into battle thrice than bear a child\nonce.\" [Footnote: Euripides, Med. 230.]\n\nHitherto we have been speaking mainly of the position of the wife in\nGreece. It is necessary now to say a few words about that class of women\nwho were called in the Greek tongue Hetaerae; and who are by some\nsupposed to have represented, intellectually at least, a higher level of\nculture than the other members of their sex. In exceptional cases, this,\nno doubt, was the fact. Aspasia, for example, the mistress of Pericles,\nwas famous for her powers of mind. According to Plato she was an\naccomplished rhetorician, and the real composer of the celebrated\nfuneral oration of Pericles; and Plutarch asserts that she was courted\nand admired by the statesmen and philosophers of Greece. But Aspasia\ncannot be taken as a type of the Hetaerae of Greece. That these women,\nby the variety and freedom of their life, may and must have acquired\ncertain qualities of character and mind that could  hardly be developed\nin the seclusion of the Greek home, may readily be admitted; we know,\nfor example, that they cultivated music and the power of conversation;\nand were welcome guests at supper-parties. But we have no evidence that\nthe relations which they formed rested as a rule on any but the simplest\nphysical basis. The real distinction, under this head, between the Greek\npoint of view and our own, appears to lie rather in the frankness with\nwhich this whole class of relations was recognised by the Greeks. There\nwere temples in honour of Aphrodite Pandemos, the goddess of illicit\nlove, and festivals celebrated in her honour; statues were erected of\nfamous courtesans, of Phryne for example, at Delphi, between two kings;\nand philosophers and statesmen lived with their mistresses openly,\nwithout any loss of public reputation. Every man, said the orator\nDemosthenes, requires besides his wife at least two mistresses; and this\nstatement, made as a matter of course in open court, is perhaps the most\ncurious illustration we possess of the distinction between the Greek\ncivilisation and our own, as regards not the fact itself but the light\nin which it was viewed.\n\n\nSection 10. Friendship.\n\nFrom what has been said about the Greek view of women, it might\nnaturally have been supposed that there can have been little place in\ntheir life for all that we designate under the term \"romance.\" Personal\naffection, as we have seen, was not the basis of married life; and\nrelations with Hetaerae appear to have been, in this respect, no finer\nor higher than similar relations in our own times. Nevertheless, it\nwould be a mistake to conclude, from these conditions, that the element\nof romance was absent from Greek life. The fact is simply that with them\nit took a different form, that of passionate friendship between men.\nSuch friendships, of course, occur in all nations and at all times, but\namong the Greeks they were, we might say, an institution. Their ideal\nwas the development and education of the younger by the older man, and\nin this view they were recognised and approved by custom and law as an\nimportant factor in the state. In Sparta, for example, it was the rule\nthat every boy had attached to him some elder youth by whom he was\nconstantly attended, admonished, and trained, and who shared in public\nestimation the praise and blame of his acts; so that it is even reported\nthat on one occasion a Spartan boy having cried out in a fight, not he\nhimself but his friend was fined for the lapse of self-control. The\ncustom of Sparta existed also in Crete. But the most remarkable instance\nof the deliberate dedication of this passion to political and military\nends is that of the celebrated \"Theban band,\" a troop consisting\nexclusively of pairs of lovers, who marched and fought in battle side by\nside, and by their presence and example inspired one another to a\ncourage so constant and high that \"it is stated that they were never\nbeaten till the battle at Chaeronea: and when Philip, after the fight,\ntook a view of the slain, and came to the place where the three hundred\nthat fought his phalanx lay dead together, he wondered, and\nunderstanding that it was the band of lovers, he shed tears, and said,\n\"Perish any man who suspects that these men either did or suffered\nanything that was base.\" [Footnote: Plutarch, Pelopidas. ch. 18.--Ed. by\nClough.]\n\nGreek legend and history, in fact, resounds with the praises of friends.\nAchilles and Patroclus, Pylades and Orestes, Harmodius and Aristogeiton,\nSolon and Peisistratus, Socrates and Alcibiades, Epaminondas and\nPelopidas,--these are names that recall at once all that is highest in\nthe achievement and all that is most romantic in the passion of Greece.\nFor it was the prerogative of this form of love, in its finer\nmanifestations, that it passed beyond persons to objective ends, linking\nemotion to action in a life of common danger and toil. Not only, nor\nprimarily, the physical sense was touched, but mainly and in chief the\nimagination and intellect. The affection of Achilles for Patroclus is as\nintense as that of a lover for his mistress, but it has in addition a\nbody and depth such as only years of common labour could impart.\n\"Achilles wept, remembering his dear comrade, nor did sleep that\nconquereth all take hold of him, but he kept turning himself to this\nside and to that, yearning for Patroclus' manhood and excellent valour,\nand all the toils he achieved with him and the woes he bare, cleaving\nthe battles of men and the grievous waves. As he thought thereon he shed\nbig tears, now lying on his side, now on his back, now on his face; and\nthen anon he would arise upon his feet and roam wildly beside the beach\nof the salt sea.\" [Footnote: Iliad XXIV. 3.--Translated by Lang, Leaf\nand Myers.] That is the ideal spirit of Greek comradeship--each\nsupporting the other in his best efforts and aims, mind assisting mind\nand hand hand, and the end of the love residing not in an easy\nsatisfaction of itself but in the development and perfecting of the\nsouls in which it dwelt.\n\nOf such a love we have a record in the elegies of Theognis, in which the\npoet has embodied, for the benefit of Kurnus his friend, the ripe\nexperience of an eventful life. The poems for the most part are didactic\nin character, consciously and deliberately aimed at the instruction and\nguidance of the man to whom they are addressed; but every now and again\nthe passion breaks through which informs and inspires this virile\nintercourse, and in such a passage as the following gives us the key to\nthis and to all the finer friendships of the Greeks:--\n\n     \"Lo, I have given thee wings wherewith to fly\n          Over the boundless ocean and the earth;\n     Yea, on the lips of many shalt thou lie,\n          The comrade of their banquet and their mirth.\n     Youths in their loveliness shall bid thee sound\n          Upon the silver flute's melodious breath;\n     And when thou goest darkling underground\n          Down to the lamentable house of death,\n     Oh yet not then from honour shalt thou cease\n          But wander, an imperishable name,\n     Kurnus, about the seas and shores of Greece,\n          Crossing from isle to isle the barren main.\n     Horses thou shalt not need, but lightly ride\n          Sped by the Muses of the violet crown,\n     And men to come, while earth and sun abide,\n          Who cherish song shall cherish thy renown.\n     Yea, I have given thee wings, and in return\n          Thou givest me the scorn with which I burn.\"\n          [Footnote: Theognis 237.]\n\nIt was his insistence on friendship as an incentive to a noble life that\nwas the secret of the power of Socrates. Listen, for example, to the\naccount which Plutarch gives of his influence upon the young Alcibiades:\n\n\"Alcibiades, listening now to language entirely free from every thought\nof unmanly fondness and silly displays of affection, finding himself\nwith one who sought to lay open to him the deficiencies of his mind, and\nrepress his vain and foolish arrogance,\n\n'Dropped like the craven cock his conquered wing.'\n\nHe esteemed these endeavours of Socrates as most truly a means which the\ngods made use of for the care and preservation of youth, and began to\nthink meanly of himself, and to admire him; to be pleased with his\nkindness, and to stand in awe of his virtue; and, unawares to himself,\nthere became formed in his mind that reflex image and reciprocation of\nlove, or Anteros, that Plato talks of..... Though Socrates had many and\npowerful rivals, yet the natural good qualities of Alcibiades gave his\naffection the mastery. His words overcame him so much, as to draw tears\nfrom his eyes, and to disturb his very soul. Yet sometimes he would\nabandon himself to flatterers, when they proposed to him varieties of\npleasure, and would desert Socrates; who then would pursue him, as if he\nhad been a fugitive slave. He despised every one else, and had no\nreverence or awe for any but him.\" [Footnote: Plut. Alc. ch. 4.--Ed. by\nClough.] The relation thus established may be further illustrated by the\nfollowing graceful little anecdote. Socrates and Alcibiades were fellow-\nsoldiers at Potidaea and shared the same tent. In a stiff engagement\nboth behaved with gallantry. At last Alcibiades fell wounded, and\nSocrates, standing over him, defended and finally saved him. For this he\nmight fairly have claimed the customary prize of valour; but he insisted\non resigning it to his friend, as an incentive to his \"ambition for\nnoble deeds.\"\n\nAnother illustration of the power of this passion to evoke and stimulate\ncourage is given in the story of Cleomachus, narrated by Plutarch. In a\nbattle between the Chalcidians and the Eretrians, the cavalry of the\nformer being hard pressed, Cleomachus was called upon to make a\ndiversion. He turned to his friend and asked him if he intended to be a\nspectator of the struggle; the youth replied in the affirmative, and\nembracing his friend, with his own hands buckled on his helmet;\nwhereupon Cleomachus charged with impetuosity, routed the foe and died\ngloriously fighting. And thenceforth, says Plutarch, the Chalcidians,\nwho had previously mistrusted such friendships, cultivated and honoured\nthem more than any other people.\n\nSo much indeed were the Greeks impressed with the manliness of this\npassion, with its power to prompt to high thought and heroic action,\nthat some of the best of them set the love of man for man far above that\nof man for woman. The one, they maintained, was primarily of the spirit,\nthe other primarily of the flesh; the one bent upon shaping to the type\nof all manly excellence both the body and the soul of the beloved, the\nother upon a passing pleasure of the senses. And they noted that among\nthe barbarians, who were subject to tyrants, this passion was\ndiscouraged, along with gymnastics and philosophy, because it was felt\nby their masters that it would be fatal to their power; so essentially\nwas it the prerogative of freedom, so incompatible with the nature and\nthe status of a slave.\n\nIt is in the works of Plato that this view is most completely and\nexquisitely set forth. To him, love is the beginning of all wisdom; and\namong all the forms of love, that one in chief, which is conceived by\none man for another, of which the main operation and end is in the\nspirit, and which leads on and out from the passion for a particular\nbody and soul to an enthusiasm for that highest beauty, wisdom, and\nexcellence, of which the most perfect mortal forms are but a faint and\ninadequate reflection. Such a love is the initiation into the higher\nlife, the spring at once of virtue, of philosophy, and of religion.\nAlways operative in practice in Greek life it was not invented but\ninterpreted by Plato. The philosopher merely gave an ideal expression to\nwhat was stirring in the heart of every generous youth; and the passage\nwhich we have selected for quotation may be taken as representative not\nonly of the personality of Plato, but of the higher aspect of a\ncharacteristic phase of Greek civilisation.\n\n\"And now, taking my leave of you, I will rehearse a tale of love which I\nheard from Diotima of Mantineia, a woman wise in this and in many other\nkinds of knowledge. She was my instructress in the art of love, and I\nshall repeat to you what she said to me: 'On the birthday of Aphrodite\nthere was a feast of the gods, at which the god Poros or Plenty, who is\nthe son of Metis or Discretion, was one of the guests. When the feast\nwas over, Penia or Poverty, as the manner is on such occasions, came\nabout the doors to beg. Now Plenty, who was the worse for nectar (there\nwas no wine in those days), went into the garden of Zeus and fell into a\nheavy sleep; and Poverty considering her own straitened circumstances,\nplotted to have a child by him, and accordingly she lay down at his side\nand conceived Love, who partly because he is naturally a lover of the\nbeautiful, and because Aphrodite is herself beautiful, and also because\nhe was born on her birthday, is her follower and attendant. And as his\nparentage is, so also are his fortunes. In the first place he is always\npoor, and anything but tender and fair, as the many imagine him; and he\nis rough and squalid, and has no shoes, nor a house to dwell in; on the\nbare earth exposed he lies under the open heaven, in the streets, or at\nthe doors of houses, taking his rest; and like his mother he is always\nin distress. Like his father too, whom he also partly resembles, he is\nalways plotting against the fair and good; he is bold, enterprising,\nstrong, a mighty hunter, always weaving some intrigue or other, keen in\nthe pursuit of wisdom, fertile in resources; a philosopher at all times,\nterrible as an enchanter, sorcerer, sophist. He is by nature neither\nmortal nor immortal, but alive and flourishing at one moment when he is\nin plenty, and dead at another moment, and again alive by reason of his\nfather's nature. But that which is always flowing in is always flowing\nout, and so he is never in want and never in wealth; and, further, he is\nin a mean between ignorance and knowledge. The truth of the matter is\nthis: No god is a philosopher or seeker after wisdom, neither do the\nignorant seek after wisdom. For herein is the evil of ignorance, that he\nwho is neither good nor wise is nevertheless satisfied with himself: he\nhas no desire for that of which he feels no want.' 'But who then,\nDiotima,' I said, 'are the lovers of wisdom, if they are neither the\nwise nor the foolish?' 'A child may answer that question,' she replied;\n'they are those who are in a mean between the two; Love is one of them.\nFor wisdom is a most beautiful thing, and Love is of the beautiful; and\ntherefore Love is also a philosopher or lover of wisdom, and being a\nlover of wisdom is in a mean between the wise and the ignorant. And of\nthis too his birth is the cause; for his father is wealthy and wise, and\nhis mother poor and foolish. Such, my dear Socrates, is the nature of\nthe spirit Love.'\n\n\"I said: 'O thou stranger woman, thou sayest well; but, assuming Love to\nbe such as you say, what is the use of him to man?'\n\n\"'That, Socrates,' she replied, 'I will attempt to unfold: of his nature\nand birth I have already spoken; and you acknowledge that Love is of the\nbeautiful. But some one will say: Of the beautiful in what, Socrates and\nDiotima? or rather let me put the question more clearly, and ask: When a\nman loves the beautiful, what does he desire?'\n\n\"I answered her, 'That the beautiful may be his.'\n\n\"'Still,' she said, 'the answer suggests a further question: What is\ngiven by the possession of beauty?'\n\n\"'To what you have asked,' I said, 'I have no answer ready.'\n\n\"'Then,' she said, 'let me put the word \"good\" in the place of\n\"beautiful,\" and repeat the question once more: If he who loves, loves\nthe good, what is it then that he loves?'\n\n\"'The possession of the good,' I said.\n\n\"'And what does he gain who possesses the good?'\n\n\"'Happiness,' I replied; 'there is less difficulty in answering that\nquestion.'\n\n\"'Yes,' she said, 'the happy are made happy by the acquisition of good\nthings. Nor is there any need to ask why a man desires happiness; the\nanswer is already final.'\n\n\"'You are right,' I said.\n\n\"'And is this wish and this desire common to all? and do all men always\ndesire their own good, or only some men?--what say you?'\n\n\"'All men,' I replied; 'the desire is common to all.'\n\n\"'Then,' she said, 'the simple truth is that men love the good.'\n\n\"'Yes,' I said.\n\n\"'To which must be added that they love the possession of the good?'\n\n\"'That must be added too.'\n\n\"'Then love,' she said, may be described generally as the love of the\neverlasting possession of the good?'\n\n\"'That is most true.'\n\n\"'Then if this be the nature of love, can you tell me further,' she\nsaid, 'what is the manner of the pursuit? what are they doing who show\nall this eagerness and heat which is called love? and what is the object\nwhich they have in view? Answer me.'\n\n\"'Nay, Diotima,' I replied, 'if I had known, I should not have wondered\nat your wisdom, neither should I have come to learn from you about this\nvery matter.'\n\n\"'Well,' she said, 'I will teach you:--The object which they have in\nview is birth in beauty, whether of body or soul.'\n\n\"'I do not understand you,' I said; 'the oracle requires an\nexplanation.'\n\n\"'I will make my meaning clearer,' she replied. 'I mean to say, that all\nmen are bringing to the birth in their bodies and in their souls. There\nis a certain age at which human nature is desirous of procreation--\nprocreation which must be in beauty and not in deformity; and this\nprocreation is the union of man and woman, and is a divine thing: for\nconception and generation are an immortal principle in the mortal\ncreature, and in the inharmonious they can never be. But the deformed is\nalways inharmonious with the divine, and the beautiful harmonious.\nBeauty, then, is the destiny or goddess of parturition who presides at\nbirth, and therefore, when approaching beauty, the conceiving power is\npropitious, and diffusive, and benign, and begets and bears fruit: at\nthe sight of ugliness she frowns and contracts and has a sense of pain,\nand turns away, and shrivels up, and not without a pang refrains from\nconception. And this is the reason why, when the hour of conception\narrives, and the teeming nature is full, there is such a flutter and\necstasy about beauty whose approach is the alleviation of the pain of\ntravail. For love, Socrates, is not as you imagine, the love of the\nbeautiful only.'\n\n\"'What then?'\n\n\"'The love of generation and of birth in beauty.'\n\n\"'Yes,' I said.\n\n\"'Yes indeed,' she replied.\n\n\"'But why of generation?'\n\n\"'Because to the mortal creature, generation is a sort of eternity and\nimmortality,' she replied; 'and if, as has been already admitted, love\nis of the everlasting possession of the good, all men will necessarily\ndesire immortality together with good: wherefore love is of\nimmortality.'\n\n\"I was astonished at her words and said: 'Is this really true, O thou\nwise Diotima?'\n\n\"And she answered with all the authority of an accomplished sophist: 'Of\nthat, Socrates, you may be assured;--think only of the ambition of men,\nand you will wonder at the senselessness of their ways, unless you\nconsider how they are stirred by the love of an immortality of fame.\nThey are ready to run all risks greater far than they would have run for\ntheir children, and to spend money and undergo any sort of toil, and\neven to die, for the sake of leaving behind them a name which shall be\neternal. Do you imagine that Alcestis would have died to save Admetus,\nor Achilles to avenge Patroclus, or your own Codrus in order to preserve\nthe kingdom for his sons, if they had not imagined that the memory of\ntheir virtues, which still survives among us, would be immortal? Nay,'\nshe said, 'I am persuaded that all men do all things, and the better\nthey are the more they do them, in hope of the glorious fame of immortal\nvirtue; for they desire the immortal.\n\n\"'Those who are pregnant in the body only, betake themselves to women\nand beget children--this is the character of their love; their\noffspring, as they hope, will preserve their memory and give them the\nblessedness and immortality which they desire in the future. But souls\nwhich are pregnant--for there certainly are men who are more creative in\ntheir souls than in their bodies--conceive that which is proper for the\nsoul to conceive or contain. And what are these conceptions? wisdom and\nvirtue in general. And such creators are poets and all artists who are\ndeserving of the name inventor. But the greatest and fairest sort of\nwisdom by far is that which is concerned with the ordering of states and\nfamilies, and which is called temperance and justice. And he who in\nyouth has the seed of these implanted in him and is himself inspired,\nwhen he comes to maturity desires to beget and generate. He wanders\nabout, seeking beauty that he may beget offspring--for in deformity he\nwill beget nothing--and naturally embraces the beautiful rather than the\ndeformed body; above all when he finds a fair and noble and well-\nnurtured soul, he embraces the two in one person, and to such a one he\nis full of speech about virtue and the nature and pursuits of a good\nman; and he tries to educate him; and at the touch of the beautiful\nwhich is ever present to his memory, even when absent, he brings forth\nthat which he had conceived long before, and in company with him tends\nthat which he brings forth; and they are married by a far nearer tie and\nhave a closer friendship than those who beget mortal children, for the\nchildren who are their common offspring are fairer and more immortal.\nWho, when he thinks of Homer and Hesiod and other great poets, would not\nrather have their children than ordinary ones? Who would not emulate\nthem in the creation of children such as theirs, which have preserved\ntheir memory and given them everlasting glory? Or who would not have\nsuch children as Lycurgus left behind him to be the saviours not only of\nLacedaemon, but of Hellas, as one may say? There is Solon, too, who is\nthe revered father of Athenian laws; and many others there are in many\nother places, both among Hellenes and barbarians, who have given to the\nworld many noble works, and have been the parents of virtue of every\nkind; and many temples have been raised in their honour for the sake of\nchildren such as theirs; which were never raised in honour of any one,\nfor the sake of his mortal children.\n\n\"'These are the lesser mysteries of love, into which even you, Socrates,\nmay enter; to the greater and more hidden ones which are the crown of\nthese, and to which, if you pursue them in a right spirit, they will\nlead, I know not whether you will be able to attain. But I will do my\nutmost to inform you, and do you follow if you can. For he who would\nproceed aright in this matter should begin in youth to visit beautiful\nforms; and first, if he be guided by his instructor aright, to love one\nsuch form only--out of that he should create fair thoughts; and soon he\nwill of himself perceive that the beauty of one form is akin to the\nbeauty of another; and then if beauty of form in general is his pursuit,\nhow foolish would he be not to recognise that the beauty in every form\nis one and the same! And when he perceives this he will abate his\nviolent love of the one, which he will despise and deem a small thing,\nand will become a lover of all beautiful forms. In the next stage he\nwill consider that the beauty of the mind is more honourable than the\noutward form. So that, if a virtuous soul have but a little comeliness,\nhe will be content to love and tend him, and will search out and bring\nto the birth thoughts which may improve the young, until he is compelled\nto contemplate and see the beauty of institutions and laws, and to\nunderstand that the beauty of them all is of one family, and that\npersonal beauty is a trifle; and after laws and institutions he will go\non to the sciences, that he may see their beauty, being not like a\nservant in love with the beauty of one youth or man or institution,\nhimself a slave mean and narrow-minded, but drawing towards and\ncontemplating the vast sea of beauty, he will create many fair and noble\nthoughts and notions in boundless love of wisdom; until on that store he\ngrows and waxes strong, and at last the vision is revealed to him of a\nsingle science which is the science of beauty everywhere. To this I will\nproceed; please to give me your very best attention:\n\n\"'He who has been instructed thus far in the things of love, and who has\nlearned to see the beautiful in due order and succession, when he comes\ntoward the end will suddenly perceive a nature of wondrous beauty (and\nthis, Socrates, is the final cause of all our former toils)--a nature\nwhich in the first place is everlasting, not growing and decaying, or\nwaxing and waning; secondly, not fair in one point of view and foul in\nanother, or at one time or in one relation or in one place fair, at\nanother time or in another relation or at another place foul, as if fair\nto some and foul to others, or in the likeness of a face or hands or any\nother part of the bodily frame, or in any form of speech or knowledge,\nor existing in any other being, as for example, in an animal, or in\nheaven, or in earth, or in any other place; but beauty absolute,\nseparate, simple, and everlasting, which without diminution and without\nincrease, or any change, is imparted to the evergrowing and perishing\nbeauties of all other things. He who, from these ascending under the\ninfluence of true love, begins to perceive that beauty, is not far from\nthe end. And the true order of going, or being led by another, to the\nthings of love, is to begin from the beauties of earth and mount upwards\nfor the sake of that other beauty, using these as steps only, and from\none going on to two, and from two to all fair forms, and from fair forms\nto fair practices, and from fair practices to fair notions, until from\nfair notions he arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last\nknows what the essence of beauty is. This, my dear Socrates,' said the\nstranger of Mantineia, 'is that life above all others which man should\nlive, in the contemplation of beauty absolute: a beauty which if you\nonce beheld, you would see not to be after the measure of gold, and\ngarments, and fair boys and youths, whose presence now entrances you;\nand you and many a one would be content to live seeing them only and\nconversing with them without meat or drink, if that were possible,--you\nonly want to look at them and to be with them. But what if man had eyes\nto see the true beauty--the divine beauty, I mean, pure and clear and\nunalloyed, not clogged with the pollutions of mortality and all the\ncolours and vanities of human life--thither looking, and holding\nconverse with the true beauty simple and divine? Remember how in that\ncommunion only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be\nenabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has\nhold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and\nnourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if\nmortal man may. Would that be an ignoble life?'\n\n\"Such, Phaedrus--and I speak not only to you, but to all of you--were\nthe words of Diotima; and I am persuaded of their truth. And being\npersuaded of them, I try to persuade others, that in the attainment of\nthis end human nature will not easily find a helper better than Love.\nAnd therefore, also, I say that every man ought to honour him as I\nmyself honour him, and walk in his ways, and exhort others to do the\nsame, and praise the power and spirit of Love according to the measure\nof my ability now and ever.\" [Footnote: Plato, Symp. 201.--Translated by\nJowett.]\n\nI have thought it worth while to quote this passage, in spite of its\nlength, partly for the sake of its own intrinsic beauty, partly because\nno account of the Greek view of life could be complete which did not\ninsist upon the prominence in their civilisation of the passion of\nfriendship, and its capacity of being turned to the noblest uses. That\nthere was another side to the matter goes without saying. This passion,\nlike any other, has its depths, as well as its heights; and the ideal of\nfriendship conceived by Plato was as remote, perhaps, from the\nexperience of the average man, as Dante's presentation of the love\nbetween man and woman. Still, the fact remains that it was friendship of\nthis kind that supplied to the Greek that element of romance which plays\nso large a part in modern life; and it is to this, and not to the\nrelations between men and women, that we must look for the highest\nreaches of their emotional experience.\n\n\nSection 11. Summary.\n\nIf now we turn back to take a general view of the points that have been\ntreated in the present chapter, we shall notice, in the first place,\nthat the ideal of the Greeks was the direct and natural outcome of the\nconditions of their life. It was not something beyond and above the\nexperience of the class to which it applied, but rather, was the formula\nof that experience itself: in philosophical phrase, it was immanent not\ntranscendent. Because there really was a class of soldier-citizens free\nfrom the necessity of mechanical toil, possessed of competence and\nleisure, and devoting these advantages willingly to the service of the\nState, therefore their ideal of conduct took the form we have described.\nIt was the ideal of a privileged class, and postulated for its\nrealisation, not only a strenuous endeavour on the part of the\nindividual, but also certain adventitious gifts of fortune, such as\nhealth, wealth, and family connections. These were conditions that\nactually obtained among members of the class concerned; so that the\nideal in question was not a mere abstract \"ought\", but an expression of\nwhat, approximately at least, was realised in fact.\n\nBut this, which was the strength of the ideal of the Greeks, was also\nits limitation. Their ethical system rested not only on universal facts\nof human nature, but also on a particular and transitory social\narrangement. When therefore the city State, with its sharp antithesis of\nclasses, began to decline, the ideal of the soldier-citizen declined\nalso. The conditions of its realisation no longer existed, and ethical\nconceptions passed into a new phase. In the first place the ideal of\nconduct was extended so as to apply to man as man, instead of to a\nparticular class in a particular form of State; and in the second place,\nas a corollary of this, those external goods of fortune which were the\nprivilege of the few, could no longer be assumed as conditions of an\nideal which was supposed to apply to all. Consequently the new ideal was\nconceived as wholly internal. To be virtuous was to act under the\ncontrol of the universal reason which was supposed to dwell in man as\nman; and such action was independent of all the gifts of chance. It was\nas open to a slave as to a freeman, to an artisan as to a soldier or a\nstatesman. The changes and chances of this mortal life were indifferent\nto the virtuous man; on the rack as on the throne he was lord of himself\nand free.\n\nThis conception of the Stoics broke down the limitation of the Greek\nideal by extending the possibility of virtue to all mankind. But at the\nsame time it destroyed its sanity and balance. For it was precisely\nbecause of its limitation that the ideal of the Greeks was,\napproximately at least, an account of what was, and not merely of what\nought to be. A man possessed of wealth and friends, of leisure, health,\nand culture, really could and did achieve the end at which he was\naiming; but the conception of one who without any such advantages, on\nthe contrary with positive disadvantages, poor, sickly, and a slave\nperhaps, or even in prison or on the rack, should nevertheless retain\nunimpaired the dignity of manhood and the freedom of his own soul--,\nsuch a conception if it is not chimerical, is at any rate so remote from\ncommon experience, that it is not capable of serving as a really\npractical ideal for ordinary life. But an ideal so remote that its\nrealisation is despaired of, is as good as none. And the conception of\nthe Stoics, if it was more comprehensive than that of Aristotle, was\nalso less practical and real.\n\nBy virtue, nevertheless, of this comprehensiveness, the Stoic ideal is\nmore akin to modern tendencies than that of the soldier-citizen in the\ncity-state. To provide for the excellence of a privileged class at the\nexpense of the rest of the community is becoming to us increasingly\nimpossible in fact and intolerable in idea. But while admitting this, we\ncannot but note that the Greeks, at whatever cost, did actually achieve\na development of the individual more high and more complete than has\nbeen even approached by any other age. Whether it will ever be possible,\nunder totally different conditions, to realise once more that balance of\nbody and soul, that sanity of ethical intuition, that frank recognition\nof the whole range of our complex human nature with a view to its\nharmonious organisation under the control of a lucid reason--whether it\nwill ever be possible again to realise this ideal, and that not only in\nthe members of a privileged class, but in the whole body of the State,\nis a question too problematical to be raised with advantage in this\nplace. But it is impossible not to perceive that with the decline of the\nGreek city-state something passed from the world which it can never\ncease to regret, and the recovery of which, if it might be, in some more\nperfect form, must be the goal of its highest practical endeavours.\nImmense, no doubt, is the significance of the centuries that have\nintervened, but it is a significance of preparation; and when we look\nbeyond the means to the wished-for end, limiting our conceptions to the\nactual possibilities of life on earth, it is among the Greeks that we\nseek the record of the highest achievement of the past, and the hope of\nthe highest possibilities of the future.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE GREEK VIEW OF ART\n\n\nSection 1. Greek Art an Expression of National Life.\n\nIn approaching the subject of the Art of the Greeks we come to what,\nmore plausibly than any other, may be regarded as the central point of\ntheir scheme of life. We have already noticed, in dealing with other\ntopics, how constantly the aesthetic point of view emerges and\npredominates in matters with which, in the modern way of looking at\nthings, it appears to have no direct and natural connection. We saw, for\nexample, how inseparable in their religion was the element of ritual and\nceremony from that of idea; how in their ethical conceptions the primary\nnotion was that of beauty; how they aimed throughout at a perfect\nbalance of body and soul, and more generally, in every department, at an\nexpression of the inner by the outer so complete and perfect that the\nconception of a separation of the two became almost as impossible to\ntheir thought as it would have been unpleasing and discordant to their\nfeeling. Now such a point of view is, in fact, that of art; and\nphilosophers of history have been amply justified in characterising the\nwhole Greek epoch as pre-eminently that of Beauty.\n\nBut if this be a true way of regarding the matter, we should expect to\nfind that art and beauty had, for the Greeks, a very wide and complex\nsignificance. There is a view of art, and it is one that appears to be\nprevalent in our own time, which sets it altogether outside the general\ntrend of national life and ideas; which asserts that it has no\nconnection with ethics, religion, politics, or any of the general\nconceptions which regulate action and thought; that its end is in\nitself, and is simply beauty; and that in beauty there is no distinction\nof high or low, no preference of one kind above another. Art thus\nconceived is, in the first place, purely subjective in character; the\nartist alone is the standard, and any phase or mood of his, however\nexceptional, personal and transitory, is competent to produce a work of\nart as satisfying and as great as one whose inspiration was drawn from a\nnation's life, reflecting its highest moments, and its most universal\naspirations and ideals; so that, for example, a butterfly drawn by Mr.\nWhistler would rank as high, say, as the Parthenon. And in the second\nplace, in this view of art, the subject is a matter of absolute\nindifference. The standards of ordinary life, ethical or other, do not\napply; there is no better or worse, but only a more or less beautiful;\nand the representation of a music-hall stage or a public house bar may\nbe as great and perfect a work of art as the Venus of Milo or the\nMadonna of Raphael.\n\nThis theory, which arises naturally and perhaps inevitably in an age\nwhere national life has degenerated into materialism and squalor, and\nthe artist feels himself a stranger in a world of Philistines, we need\nnot here pause to examine and criticise. It has been mentioned merely to\nillustrate by contrast the Greek view, which was diametrically opposed\nto this, and valued art in proportion as it represented in perfect form\nthe highest and most comprehensive aspects of the national ideal.\n\nTo say this, is not, of course, to say that the Greek conception of art\nwas didactic; for the word didactic, when applied to art, has usually\nthe implication that the excellence of the moral is the only point to be\nconsidered, and that if that is good the work itself must be good. This\nidea does indeed occur in Greek thought--we find it, for example,\nparadoxically enough, in so great an artist as Plato--but if it had been\nthe one which really determined their production, there would have been\nno occasion to write this chapter, for there would have been no Greek\nart to write about. The truer account of the impulse that urged them to\ncreate is that given also by Plato in an earlier and more impassioned\nwork, in which he describes it as a \"madness of those who are possessed\nby the Muses; which enters into a delicate and virgin soul, and there\ninspiring frenzy, awakens lyrical and all other numbers; with these\nadorning the myriad actions of ancient heroes for the instruction of\nposterity. But he who having no touch of the Muses' madness in his soul,\ncomes to the door and thinks that he will get into the temple by the\nhelp of art--he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man is\nnowhere at all when he enters into rivalry with the madman.\" [Footnote:\nPlato, Phaedrus, 245a.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nThe presupposition, in fact, of all that can be said about the Greek\nview of art, is that primarily and to begin with they were, by nature,\nartists. Judged simply by the aesthetic standard, without any\nconsideration of subject matter  at all, or any reference to\nintellectual or ethical ideals, they created works of art more purely\nbeautiful than those of any other age or people. Their mere household\ncrockery, their common pots and pans, are cast in shapes so exquisitely\ngraceful, and painted in designs so admirably drawn and composed, that\nany one of them has a higher artistic value than the whole contents of\nthe Royal Academy; and the little clay figures they used as we do china\nornaments put to shame the most ambitious efforts of modern sculpture.\nWho, for example, would not rather look at a Tanagra statuette than at\nthe equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington?\n\nThe Greeks, in fact, quite apart from any theories they may have held,\nwere artists through and through; and that is a fact we must carry with\nus through the whole of our discussion.\n\n\nSection 2. Identification of the Aesthetic and Ethical Points of View.\n\nBut on the other hand, it seems to be clear from all that we can learn,\nthat their habitual way of regarding works of art was not to judge them\nsimply and exclusively by their aesthetic value. On the contrary, in\ncriticising two works otherwise equally beautiful, they would give a\nhigher place to the one or the other for its ethical or quasi-ethical\nqualities. This indeed is what we should expect from the comprehensive\nsense which, as we have seen, attached in their tongue to the word which\nwe render \"beautiful.\" The aesthetic and ethical spheres, in fact, were\nnever sharply distinguished by the Greeks; and it follows that as, on\nthe one hand, their conception of the good was identified with that of\nthe beautiful, so, on the other hand, their conception of the beautiful\nwas identified with that of the good. Thus the most beautiful work of\nart, in the Greek sense of the term, was that which made the finest and\nmost harmonious appeal not only to the physical but to the moral sense,\nand while communicating the highest and most perfect pleasure to the eye\nor the ear, had also the power to touch and inform the soul with the\ngrace which was her moral excellence. Of this really characteristic\nGreek conception, this fusion, so instinctive as to be almost\nunconscious, of the aesthetic and ethical points of view, no better\nillustration could be given than the following passage from the Republic\nof Plato, where the philosopher is describing the effect of beautiful\nworks of art, and especially of music, on the moral and intellectual\ncharacter of his imaginary citizens:\n\n\"'We would not have our guardians grow up amid images of moral\ndeformity, as in some noxious pasture, and there browse and feed upon\nmany a baneful herb and flower day by day, little by little, until they\nsilently gather a festering mass of corruption in their own soul. Let\nour artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true nature of\nthe beautiful and graceful: then will our youth dwell in a land of\nhealth, amid fair sights and sounds, and receive the good in everything;\nand beauty, the effluence of fair works, shall flow into the eye and\near, like a healthgiving breeze from a purer region, and insensibly draw\nthe soul from earliest years into likeness and sympathy with the beauty\nof reason.'\n\n\"'There can be no nobler training than that,' he replied.\n\n\"'And therefore,' I said, \"'Glaucon, musical training is a more potent\ninstrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way\ninto the inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten,\nimparting grace, and making the soul of him who is rightly educated\ngraceful, or of him who is ill-educated ungraceful; and also because he\nwho has received this true education of the inner being will most\nshrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and nature, and with a true\ntaste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into his soul the\ngood, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate the bad,\nnow in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason\nwhy: and when reason comes he will recognise and salute the friend with\nwhom his education has made him long familiar.\"[Footnote: Plato,\nRepublic III. 401.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nThis fusion of the ideas of the beautiful and the good is the central\npoint in the Greek Theory of Art; and it enables us to understand how it\nwas that they conceived art to be educational. Its end, in their view,\nwas not only pleasure, though pleasure was essential to it; but also,\nand just as much, edification. Plato, indeed, here again exaggerating\nthe current view, puts the edification above the pleasure. He criticises\nHomer as he might criticise a moral philosopher, pointing out the\ninadequacy, from an ethical point of view, of his conception of heaven\nand of the gods, and dismissing as injurious and of bad example to\nyouthful citizens the whole tissue of passionate human feeling, the\nirrepressible outbursts of anger and grief and fear, by virtue of which\nalone the Iliad and the Odyssey are immortal poems instead of ethical\ntracts. And finally, with a half reluctant assent to the course of his\nown argument, he excludes the poets altogether from his ideal republic,\non the ground that they encourage their hearers in that indulgence of\nemotion which it is the object of every virtuous man to repress. The\nconclusion of Plato, by his own admission, was half paradoxical, and it\ncertainly never recommended itself to such a nation of artists as the\nGreeks. But it illustrates, nevertheless, the general bent of their\nviews of art, that tendency to the identification of the beautiful and\nthe good, which, while it was never pushed so far as to choke art with\ndidactics--for Plato himself, even against his own will, is a poet--yet\nserved to create a standard of taste which was ethical as much as\naesthetic, and made the judgment of beauty also a judgment of moral\nworth.\n\nQuite in accordance with this view we find that the central aim of all\nGreek art is the representation of human character and human ideals. The\ninterpretation of \"nature\" for its own sake (in the narrower sense in\nwhich \"nature\" is opposed to man) is a modern and romantic development\nthat would have been unintelligible to a Greek. Not that the Greeks were\nwithout a sense of what we call the beauties of nature, but that they\ntreat them habitually, not as the centre of interest, but as the\nbackground to human activity. The most beautiful descriptions of nature\nto be found in Greek poetry occur, incidentally only, in the choral odes\nintroduced into their dramas; and among all their pictures of which we\nhave any record there is not one that answers to the description of a\nlandscape; the subject is always mythological or historical, and the\nrepresentation of nature merely a setting for the main theme. And on the\nother hand, the art for which the Greeks are most famous, and in which\nthey have admittedly excelled all other peoples, is that art of\nsculpture whose special function it is not only to represent but to\nidealise the human form, and which is peculiarly adapted to embody for\nthe sense not only physical but ethical types. And, more remarkable\nstill, as we shall have occasion to observe later, the very art which\nmodern men regard as the most devoid of all intellectual content, the\nmost incommensurable with any standard except that of pure beauty--I\nrefer of course to the art of music--was invested by the Greeks with a\ndefinite moral content and worked into their general theory of art as a\ndirect interpretation of human life. The excellence of man, in short,\ndirectly or indirectly, was the point about which Greek art turned; that\nexcellence was at once aesthetic and ethical; and the representation of\nwhat was beautiful involved also the representation of what was good.\nThis point we will now proceed to illustrate more in detail in\nconnection with the various special branches of art.\n\n\nSection 3. Sculpture and Painting.\n\nLet us take, first, the plastic arts, sculpture and painting; and to\nbring into clear relief the Greek point of view let us contrast with it\nthat of the modern \"impressionist.\" To the impressionist a picture is\nsimply an arrangement of colour and line; the subject represented is\nnothing, the treatment everything. It would be better, on the whole, not\neven to know what objects are depicted; and, to judge the picture by a\ncomparison with the objects, or to consider what is the worth of the\nobjects in themselves, or what we might think of them if we came across\nthem in the connections of ordinary life, is simply to misconceive the\nwhole meaning of a picture. For the artist and for the man who\nunderstands art, all scales and standards disappear except that of the\npurely aesthetic beauty which consists in harmony of line and tone; the\nmost perfect human form has no more value than a splash of mud; or\nrather both mud and human form disappear as irrelevant, and all that is\nleft for judgment is the arrangement of colour and form originally\nsuggested by those accidental and indifferent phenomena.\n\nIn the Greek view, on the other hand, though we certainly cannot say\nthat the subject was everything and the treatment nothing (for that\nwould be merely the annihilation of art) yet we may assert that, granted\nthe treatment, granted that the work was beautiful (the first and\nindispensable requirement) its worth was determined by the character of\nthe subject. Sculpture and painting, in fact, to the Greeks, were not\nmerely a medium of aesthetic pleasure; they were ways of expressing and\ninterpreting national life. As such they were subordinated to religion.\nThe primary end of sculpture was to make statues of the gods and heroes;\nthe primary end of painting was to represent mythological scenes; and in\neither case the purely aesthetic pleasure was also a means to a\nreligious experience.\n\nLet us take, for example, the statue of Zeus at Olympia, the most famous\nof the works of Pheidias. This colossal figure of ivory and gold was\ndoubtless, according to all the testimony we possess, from a merely\naesthetic point of view, among the most consummate creations of human\ngenius. But what was the main aim of the artist who made it? what the\nmain effect on the spectator? The artist had designed and the spectator\nseemed to behold a concrete image of that Homeric Zeus who was the\ncentre of his religious consciousness--the Zeus who \"nodded his dark\nbrow, and the ambrosial locks waved from the King's immortal head, and\nhe made great Olympus quake.\" [Footnote: Iliad i. 528.--Translated by\nLang, Leaf and Myers.] \"Those who approach the temple,\" says Lucian, \"do\nnot conceive that they see ivory from the Indies or gold from the mines\nof Thrace; no, but the very son of Kronos and Rhea, transported by\nPheidias to earth and set to watch over the lonely plain of Pisa.\" \"He\nwas,\" says Dion Chrysostom, \"the type of that unattained ideal, Hellas\ncome to unity with herself; in expression at once mild and awful, as\nbefits the giver of life and all good gifts, the common father, saviour\nand guardian of men; dignified as a king, tender as a father, awful as\ngiver of laws, kind as protector of suppliants and friends, simple and\ngreat as giver of increase and wealth; revealing, in a word, in form and\ncountenance, the whole array of gifts and qualities proper to his\nsupreme divinity.\"\n\nThe description is characteristic of the whole aim of Greek sculpture,--\nthe representation not only of beauty, but of character, not only of\ncharacter but of character idealised. The statues of the various gods\nderive their distinguishing individuality not merely from their\nassociation with conventional symbols, but from a concrete reproduction,\nin features, expression, drapery, pose, of the ethical and intellectual\nqualities for which they stand. An Apollo differs in type from a Zeus,\nan Athene from a Demeter; and in every case the artist works from an\nintellectual conception, bent not simply on a graceful harmony of lines,\nbut on the representation of a character at once definite and ideal.\n\nPrimarily, then, Greek sculpture was an expression of the national\nreligion; and therefore, also, of the national life. For, as we saw, the\ncult of the gods was the centre, not only of the religious but of the\npolitical consciousness of Greece; and an art which was born and\nflourished in the temple and the sacred grove, naturally became the\nexponent of the ideal aspect of the state. It was thus, for example,\nthat the Parthenon at Athens was at once the centre of the worship of\nAthene, and a symbol of the corporate life over which she presided; the\nstatue of the goddess having as its appropriate complement the frieze\nover which the spirit of the city moved in stone. And thus, too, the\nstatues of the victors at the Olympian games were dedicated in the\nsacred precinct, as a memorial of what was not only an athletic meeting,\nbut also at once a centre of Hellenic unity and the most consummate\nexpression of that aspect of their culture which contributed at least as\nmuch to their aesthetic as to their physical perfection.\n\nSculpture, in fact, throughout, was subordinated to religion, and\nthrough religion to national life; and it was from this that it derived\nits ideal and intellectual character. And, so far as our authorities\nenable us to judge, the same is true of painting. The great pictures of\nwhich we have descriptions were painted to adorn temples and public\nbuildings, and represented either mythological or national themes. Such,\nfor example, was the great work of Polygnotus at Delphi, in which was\ndepicted on the one hand the sack of Troy, on the other the descent of\nOdysseus into Hades; and such his representation of the battle of\nMarathon, in the painted porch that led to the Acropolis of Athens. And\neven the vase paintings of which we have innumerable examples, and which\nare mere decorations of common domestic utensils, have often enough some\nstory of gods and heroes for their theme, whereby over and above their\npurely aesthetic value they made their appeal to the general religious\nconsciousness of Greece. Painting, like sculpture, had its end, in a\nsense, outside itself; and from this very fact derived its peculiar\ndignity, simplicity, and power.\n\nFrom this account of the plastic art of the Greeks it follows as a\nsimple corollary, that their aim was not merely to reproduce but to\ntranscend nature. For their subject was gods and heroes, and heroes and\ngods were superior to men. Of this idealising tendency we have in\nsculpture evidence enough in the many examples which have been preserved\nto us; and with regard to painting there is curious literary testimony\nto the same effect. Aristotle, for example, remarks that \"even if it is\nimpossible that men should be such as Zeuxis painted them, yet it is\nbetter that he should paint them so; for the example ought to excel that\nfor which it is an example.\" [Footnote: Artist, Poet, xxv.--1461. 6.\n12.]\n\nAnd in an imaginary conversation recorded between Socrates and\nParrhasius the artist admits without any hesitation that more pleasure\nis to be derived from pictures of men who are morally good than from\nthose of men who are morally bad. In the Greek view, in fact, as we saw,\nphysical and moral excellence went together, and it was excellence they\nsought to depict in their art; not merely aesthetic beauty, though that\nwas a necessary presupposition, but on the top of that, ideal types of\ncharacter representative of their conception of the hero and the god.\nArt, in a word, was subordinate to the ethical ideal; or rather the\nethical and aesthetic ideals were not yet dissociated; and the greatest\nartists the world has ever known worked deliberately under the direction\nand inspiration of the ideas that controlled and determined the life of\ntheir time.\n\n\nSection 4. Music and the Dance.\n\nTurning now from the plastic arts to that other group which the Greeks\nclassed together under the name of \"Music\"--namely music, in the\nnarrower sense, dancing and poetry--we find still more clearly\nemphasised and more elaborately worked out the subordination of\naesthetic to ethical and religious ends. \"Music,\" in fact, as they used\nthe term, was the centre of Greek education, and its moral character\nthus became a matter of primary importance. By it were formed, it was\nsupposed, the mind and temper of the citizens, and so the whole\nconstitution of the state. \"The introduction of a new kind of music,\"\nsays Plato, \"must be shunned as imperilling the whole state; since\nstyles of music are never disturbed without affecting the most important\npolitical institutions.\" \"The new style,\" he goes on, \"gradually gaining\na lodgment, quietly insinuates itself into manners and customs; and from\nthese it issues in greater force, and makes its way into mutual\ncompacts: and from compacts it goes on to attack laws and constitutions,\ndisplaying the utmost impudence, until it ends by overturning\neverything, both in public and in private.\" [Footnote: Plato, Rep. IV.\n4240.--Translated by Davies and Vaughan.] And as in his Republic he had\ndefined the character of the poetry that should be admitted into his\nideal state, so in the \"Laws\" he specially defines the character of the\nmelodies and dances, regarding them as the most important factor in\ndetermining and preserving the manners and institutions of the citizens.\n\nNothing, at first sight, to a modern mind, could, be stranger than this\npoint of view. That poetry has a bearing on conduct we can indeed\nunderstand, though we do not make poetry the centre of our system of\neducation; but that moral effects should be attributed to music and to\ndancing and that these should be regarded as of such importance as to\ninfluence profoundly the whole constitution of a state, will appear to\nthe majority of modern men an unintelligible paradox.\n\nYet no opinion of the Greeks is more profoundly characteristic than this\nof their whole way of regarding life, and none would better repay a\ncareful study. That moral character should be attributed to the\ninfluence of music is only one and perhaps the most striking\nillustration of that general identification by the Greeks of the ethical\nand the aesthetic standards on which we have so frequently had occasion\nto insist. Virtue, in their conception, was not a hard conformity to a\nlaw felt as alien to the natural character; it was the free expression\nof a beautiful and harmonious soul. And this very metaphor \"harmonious,\"\nwhich they so constantly employ, involves the idea of a close connection\nbetween music and morals. Character, in the Greek view, is a certain\nproportion of the various elements of the soul, and the right character\nis the right proportion. But the relation in which these elements stand\nto one another could be directly affected, it was found, by means of\nmusic; not only could the different emotions be excited or assuaged in\nvarious degrees, but the whole relation of the emotional to the rational\nelement could be regulated and controlled by the appropriate melody and\nmeasure. That this connection between music and morals really does exist\nis recognised, in a rough and general way, by most people who have any\nmusical sense. There are rhythms and tunes, for example, that are felt\nto be vulgar and base, and others that are felt to be ennobling; some\nmusic, Wagner's, for instance, is frequently called immoral; Gounod is\ndescribed as enervating, Beethoven as bracing, and the like; and however\nabsurd such comments may often appear to be in detail, underlying them\nis the undoubtedly well-grounded sense that various kinds of music have\nvarious ethical qualities. But it is just this side of music, which has\nbeen neglected in modern times, that was the one on which the Greeks\nlaid most stress. Infinitely inferior to the moderns in the mechanical\nresources of the art, they had made, it appears, a far finer and closer\nanalysis of its relation to emotional states; with the result that even\nin music, which we describe as the purest of the arts, congratulating\nourselves on its absolute dissociation from all definite intellectual\nconceptions,--even here the standard of the Greeks was as much ethical\nas aesthetic, and the style of music was distinguished and its value\nappraised, not only by the pleasure to be derived from it, but also by\nthe effect it tended to produce on character.\n\nOf this position we have a clear and definite statement in Aristotle.\nVirtue, he says, consists in loving and hating in the proper way, and\nimplies, therefore, a delight in the proper emotions; but emotions of\nany kind are produced by melody and rhythm; therefore by music a man\nbecomes accustomed to feeling the right emotions. Music has thus the\npower to form character; and the various kinds of music, based on the\nvarious modes, may be distinguished by their effects on character--one,\nfor example, working in the direction of melancholy, another of\neffeminacy; one encouraging abandonment, another self-control, another\nenthusiasm, and so on through the series. It follows that music may be\njudged not merely by the pleasure it gives, but by the character of its\nmoral influence; pleasure, indeed, is essential or there would be no\nart; but the different kinds of pleasure given by different kinds of\nmusic are to be distinguished not merely by quantity, but by quality.\nOne will produce a right pleasure of which the good man will approve,\nand which will have a good effect on character; another will be in\nexactly the opposite case. Or, as Plato puts it, \"the excellence of\nmusic is to be measured by pleasure. But the pleasure must not be that\nof chance persons; the fairest music is that which delights the best and\nbest-educated, and especially that which delights the one man who is\npre-eminent in virtue and education.\" [Footnote: Plato Laws. II. 6586.--\nTranslated by Jowett.]\n\nWe see then that even pure music, to the Greeks, had a distinct and\ndefinite ethical bearing. But this ethical influence was further\nemphasised by the fact that it was not their custom to enjoy their music\npure. What they called \"music,\" as has been already pointed out, was an\nintimate union of melody, verse and dance, so that the particular\nemotional meaning of the rhythm and tune employed was brought out into\nperfect lucidity by the accompanying words and gestures. Thus we find,\nfor example, that Plato characterises a tendency in his own time to the\nseparation of melody and verse as a sign of a want of true artistic\ntaste; for, he says, it is very hard, in the absence of words, to\ndistinguish the exact character of the mood which the rhythm and tune is\nsupposed to represent. In this connection it may be interesting to refer\nto the use of the \"_leit-motiv_\" in modern music. Here too a\nparticular idea, if not a particular set of words, is associated with a\nparticular musical phrase; the intention of the practice being clearly\nthe same as that which is indicated in the passage just quoted, namely\nto add precision and definiteness to the vague emotional content of pure\nmusic.\n\nAnd this determining effect of words was further enhanced, in the music\nof the Greeks, by the additional accompaniment of the dance. The\nemotional character conveyed to the mind by the words and to the ear by\nthe tune, was further explained to the eye by gesture, pose, and beat of\nfoot; the combination of the three modes of expression forming thus in\nthe Greek sense a single \"imitative\" art. The dance as well as the\nmelody came thus to have a definite ethical significance; \"it\nimitates,\" says Aristotle, \"character, emotion, and action.\" And Plato\nin his ideal republic would regulate by law the dances no less than the\nmelodies to be employed, distinguishing them too as morally good or\nmorally bad, and encouraging the one while he forbids the other.\n\nThe general Greek view of music which has thus been briefly expounded,\nthe union of melody and rhythm with poetry and the dance in view of a\ndefinite and consciously intended ethical character, may be illustrated\nby the following passage of Plutarch, in which he describes the music in\nvogue at Sparta. The whole system, it will be observed, is designed with\na view to that military courage which was the virtue most prized in the\nSpartan state, and the one about which all their institutions centred.\nMusic at Sparta actually was, what Plato would have had it in his ideal\nrepublic, a public and state-regulated function; and even that vigorous\nrace which of all the Greeks came nearest to being Philistines of\nvirtue, thought fit to lay a foundation purely aesthetic for their\nsevere and soldierly ideal.\n\n\"Their instruction in music and verse,\" says Plutarch, \"was not less\ncarefully attended to than their habits of grace and good-breeding in\nconversation. And their very songs had a life and spirit in them that\ninflamed and possessed men's minds with an enthusiasm and ardour for\naction; the style of them was plain and without affectation; the subject\nalways serious and moral; most usually, it was in praise of such men as\nhad died in defence of their country, or in derision of those that had\nbeen cowards; the former they declared happy and glorified; the life of\nthe latter they described as most miserable and abject. There were also\nvaunts of what they would do and boasts of what they had done, varying\nwith the various ages; as, for example, they had three choirs in their\nsolemn festivals, the first of the old men, the second of the young men,\nand the last of the children; the old men began thus:\n\n     We once were young and brave and strong;\n\nThe young men answered them, singing;\n\n     And we're so now, come on and try:\n\nThe children came last and said:\n\n     But we'll be strongest by and bye.\n\nIndeed if we will take the pains to consider their compositions, and the\nairs on the flute to which they marched when going to battle, we shall\nfind that Terpander and Pindar had reason to say that music and valour\nwere allied.\" [Footnote: Plutarch, Lycurgus, ch. 21.--Clough's ed.]\n\nThe way of regarding music which is illustrated in this passage, and in\nall that is said on the subject by Greek writers, is so typical of the\nwhole point of view of the Greeks, that we may be pardoned for insisting\nonce again on the attitude of mind which it implies. Music, as we saw,\nhad an ethical value to the Greeks; but that is not to say that they put\nthe ethics first, and the music second, using the one as a mere tool of\nthe other. Rather an ethical state of mind was also, in their view, a\nmusical one. In a sense something more than metaphorical, virtue was a\nharmony of the soul. The musical end was thus identical with the ethical\none. The most beautiful music was also the morally best, and _vice\nversa_; virtue was not prior to beauty, nor beauty to virtue; they\nwere two aspects of the same reality, two ways of regarding a single\nfact; and if aesthetic effects were supposed to be amenable to ethical\njudgment, it was only because ethical judgments at bottom were\naesthetic. The \"good\" and the \"beautiful\" were one and the same thing;\nthat is the first and last word of the Greek ideal.\n\nAnd while thus, on the one hand, virtue was invested with the\nspontaneity and delight of art, on the other, art derived from its\nassociation with ethics emotional precision. In modern times the end of\nmusic is commonly conceived to be simply and without more ado the\nexcitement of feeling. Its value is measured by the intensity rather\nthan the quality of the emotion which it is capable of arousing; and the\nauditor abandons himself to a casual succession of highly wrought moods\nas bewildering in the actual experience as it is exhausting in the\nafter-effects. In Greek music, on the other hand, if we may trust our\naccounts, while the intensity of the feeling excited must have been far\nless than that which it is in the power of modern instrumentation to\nevoke, its character was perfectly simple and definite. Melody, rhythm,\ngesture and words, were all consciously adapted to the production of a\nsingle precisely conceived emotional effect; the listener was in a\nposition clearly to understand and appraise the value of the mood\nexcited in him; instead of being exhausted and confused by a chaos of\nvague and conflicting emotion he had the sense of relief which\naccompanies the deliverance of a definite passion, and returned to his\nordinary business \"purged\", as they said, and tranquillised, by a\nprocess which he understood, directed to an end of which he approved.\n\n\nSection 5. Poetry.\n\nIf now, as we have seen, in the plastic arts, and in an art which\nappears to us so pure as music, the Greeks perceived and valued, along\nwith the immediate pleasure of beauty, a definite ethical character and\nbent, much more was this the case with poetry, whose material is\nconceptions and ideas. The works of the poets, and especially of Homer,\nwere in fact to the Greeks all that moral treatises are to us; or\nrather, instead of learning their lessons in abstract terms, they learnt\nthem out of the concrete representation of life. Poetry was the basis of\ntheir education, the guide and commentary of their practice, the\ninspiration of their speculative thought. If they have a proposition to\nadvance, they must back it by a citation: if they have a counsel to\noffer, they must prop it with a verse. Not only for delight, but for\ninspiration, warning and example, they were steeped from childhood\nonwards in an ocean of melodious discourse; their national epics were to\nthem what the Bible was to the Puritans; and for every conjunction of\nfortune, for every issue of home or state, they found therein a text to\nprompt or reinforce their decision. Of this importance of poetry in the\nlife of ancient Greece, and generally of the importance of music and\nart, the following passage from Plato is a striking illustration: \"When\nthe boy has learned his letters and is beginning to understand what is\nwritten, as before he understood only what was spoken, they put into his\nhands the works of great poets, which he reads at school; in these are\ncontained many admonitions, and many tales, and praises, and encomia of\nancient famous men, which he is required to learn by heart, in order\nthat he may imitate or emulate them and desire to become like them. Then\nagain the teachers of the lyre take similar care that their young\ndisciple is temperate and gets into no mischief; and when they have\ntaught him the use of the lyre, they introduce him to the poems of other\nexcellent poets, who are the lyric poets; and these they set to music\nand make their harmonies and rhythms quite familiar to the children's\nsouls, in order that they may learn to be more gentle and harmonious and\nrhythmical, and so more fitted for speech and action; for the life of\nman in every part has need of harmony and rhythm,\" [Footnote: Plato\nProt. 325c.--Translated by Jowett.]\n\nFrom this conception of poetry as a storehouse of practical wisdom the\ntransition is easy to a purely ethical judgment of its value; and that\ntransition, as has been already noted, was actually made by Plato, who\neven goes so far as to prescribe to poets the direct inculcation of such\nmorals as are proper to a tract, as that the good and just man is happy\neven though he be poor, and the bad and unjust man miserable even though\nhe be rich. This didacticism, no doubt, is a parody; but it is a parody\nof the normal Greek view, that the excellence of a poem is closely bound\nup with the compass and depth of its whole ethical content, and is not\nto be measured, as many moderns maintain, merely by the aesthetic beauty\nof its form. When Strabo says, \"it is impossible to be a good poet\nunless you are first a good man,\" he is expressing the common opinion of\nthe Greeks that the poet is to be judged not merely as an artist but as\nan interpreter of life; and the same presupposition underlies the remark\nof Aristotle that poets may be classified according as the characters\nthey represent are as good as, better, or worse than the average man.\n\nBut perhaps the most remarkable illustration of this way of regarding\npoetry is the passage in the \"Frogs\" of Aristophanes, where the comedian\nhas introduced a controversy between Aeschylus and Euripides as to the\nrelative merit of their works, and has made the decision turn almost\nentirely on moral considerations, the question being really whether or\nno Euripides is to be regarded as a corrupter of his countrymen. In the\ncourse of the discussion Aeschylus is made to give expression to a view\nof poetry which clearly enough Aristophanes endorses himself, and which\nno doubt would be accepted by the majority of his audience. He appeals\nto all antiquity to shew that poets have always been the instructors of\nmankind, and that it is for this that they are held in honour.\n\n     \"Look to traditional history, look\n     To antiquity, primitive, early, remote;\n     See there, what a blessing illustrious poets\n     Conferr'd on mankind, in the centuries past.\n     Orpheus instructed mankind in religion,\n     Reclaim'd them from bloodshed and barbarous rites;\n     Musaeus deliver'd the doctrine of med'cine,\n     And warnings prophetic for ages to come;\n     Next came old Hesiod, teaching us husbandry,\n     Ploughing, and sowing, and rural affairs,\n     Rural economy, rural astronomy,\n     Homely morality, labour, and thrift;\n     Homer himself, our adorable Homer,\n     What was his title to praise and renown?\n     What, but the worth of the lessons he taught us\n     Discipline, arms, and equipment of war?\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Frogs, 1030.--Translated by Frere.]\n\nWhile then there is, as we should naturally expect, plenty of Greek\npoetry which is simply the spontaneous expression of passionate feeling,\nunrestrained by the consideration of ethical or other ends; yet if we\ntake for our type (as we are fairly entitled to do, from the prominent\nplace it held in Greek life), not the lyrics but the drama of Greece, we\nshall find that in poetry even (as was to be expected) to a higher\ndegree than in music and the plastic arts, the beauty sought and\nachieved is one that lies within the limits of certain definite moral\npre-suppositions. Let us consider this point in some detail; and first\nlet us examine the character of Greek tragedy.\n\n\nSection 6. Tragedy.\n\nThe character of Greek tragedy was determined from the very beginning by\nthe fact of its connection with religion. The season at which it was\nperformed was the festival of Dionysus; about his altar the chorus\ndanced; and the object of the performance was the representation of\nscenes out of the lives of ancient heroes. The subject of the drama was\nthus strictly prescribed; it must be selected out of a cycle of legends\nfamiliar to the audience; and whatever freedom might be allowed to the\npoet in his treatment of the theme, whatever the reflections he might\nembroider upon it, the speculative or ethical views, the criticism of\ncontemporary life, all must be subservient to the main object originally\nproposed, the setting forth, for edification as well as for delight, of\nsome episodes in the lives of those heroes of the past who were\nconsidered not only to be greater than their descendants, but to be the\nsons of gods and worthy themselves of worship as divine.\n\nBy this fundamental condition the tragedy of the Greeks is distinguished\nsharply, on the one hand from the Shakespearian drama, on the other from\nthe classical drama of the French. The tragedies of Shakespeare are\ndevoid, one might say, or at least comparatively devoid, of all\npreconceptions. He was free to choose what subject he liked and to treat\nit as he would; and no sense of obligation to religious or other points\nof view, no feeling for traditions descended from a sacred past and not\nlightly to be handled by those who were their trustees for the future,\nsobered or restrained for evil or for good his half-barbaric genius. He\nflung himself upon life with the irresponsible ardour of the discoverer\nof a new continent; shaped and re-shaped it as he chose; carved from it\nnow the cynicism of Measure for Measure, now the despair of Hamlet and\nof Lear, now the radiant magnanimity of the Tempest, and departed\nleaving behind him not a map or chart, but a series of mutually\nincompatible landscapes.\n\nWhat Shakespeare gave, in short, was a many-sided representation of\nlife; what the Greek dramatist gave was an interpretation. But an\ninterpretation not simply personal to himself, but representative of the\nnational tradition and belief. The men whose deeds and passions he\nnarrated were the patterns and examples on the one hand, on the other\nthe warnings of his race; the gods who determined the fortunes they\nsang, were working still among men; the moral laws that ruled the past\nruled the present too; and the history of the Hellenic race moved, under\na visible providence, from its divine origin onward to an end that would\nbe prosperous or the reverse according as later generations should\ncontinue to observe the worship and traditions of their fathers\ndescended from heroes and gods.\n\nAnd it is the fact that in this sense it was representative of the\nnational consciousness, that distinguishes the Greek tragedy from the\nclassical drama of the French. For the latter, though it imitated the\nancients in outward form, was inspired with a totally different spirit.\nThe kings and heroes whose fortunes it narrated were not the ancestors\nof the French race; they had no root in its affections, no connection\nwith its religious beliefs, no relation to its ethical conceptions. The\nwhole ideal set forth was not that which really inspired the nation, but\nat best that which was supposed to inspire the court; and the whole\ndrama, like a tree transplanted to an alien soil, withers and dies for\nlack of the nourishment which the tragedy of the Greeks unconsciously\nimbibed from its encompassing air of national tradition.\n\nSuch then was the general character of the Greek tragedy--an\ninterpretation of the national ideal. Let us now proceed to follow out\nsome of the consequences involved in this conception.\n\nIn the first place, the theme represented is the life and fate of\nancient heroes--of personages, that is to say, greater than ordinary\nmen, both for good and for evil, in their qualities and in their\nachievements, pregnant with fateful issues, makers or marrers of the\nfortunes of the world. Tragic and terrible their destiny may be, but\nnever contemptible or squalid. Behind all suffering, behind sin and\ncrime, must lie a redeeming magnanimity. A complete villain, says\nAristotle, is not a tragic character, for he has no hold upon the\nsympathies; if he prosper, it is an outrage on common human feeling; if\nhe fall into disaster, it is merely what he deserves. Neither is it\nadmissible to represent the misfortunes of a thoroughly good man, for\nthat is merely painful and distressing; and least of all is it tolerable\ngratuitously to introduce mere baseness, or madness, or other\naberrations from human nature. The true tragic hero is a man of high\nplace and birth who having a nature not ignoble has fallen into sin and\npays in suffering the penalty of his act. Nothing could throw more light\non the distinguishing characteristics of the Greek drama than these few\nremarks of Aristotle, and nothing could better indicate how close, in\nthe Greek mind, was the connection between aesthetic and ethical\njudgments. The canon of Aristotle would exclude as proper themes for\ntragedy the character and fate, say, of Richard III.--the absolutely bad\nman suffering his appropriate desert; or of Kent and Cordelia--the\nabsolutely good, brought into unmerited affliction; and that not merely\nbecause such themes offend the moral sense, but because by so offending\nthey destroy the proper pleasure of the tragic art. The whole aesthetic\neffect is limited by ethical presuppositions; and to outrage these is to\ndefeat the very purpose of tragedy.\n\nSpecially interesting in this connection are the strictures passed on\nEuripides in the passage of the \"Frogs\" of Aristophanes to which\nallusion has already been made. Euripides is there accused of lowering\nthe tragic art by introducing--what? Women in love! The central theme of\nmodern tragedy! It is the boast of Aeschylus that there is not one of\nhis plays which touches on this subject:--\n\n     \"I never allow'd of your lewd Sthenoboeas\n     Or filthy detestable Phaedras--not I!\n     Indeed I should doubt if my drama throughout\n     Exhibit an instance of woman in love!\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Frogs, 1043.--Translated by Frere.]\n\nAnd there can be little doubt that with a Greek audience this would\ncount to him as a merit, and that the shifting of the centre of interest\nby Euripides from the sterner passions of heroes and of kings to this\ntenderer phase of human feeling would be felt even by those whom it\ncharmed to be a declension from the height of the older tragedy.\n\nAnd to this limitation of subject corresponds a limitation of treatment.\nThe Greek tragedy is composed from a definite point of view, with the\naim not merely to represent but also to interpret the theme. Underlying\nthe whole construction of the plot, the dialogue, the reflections, the\nlyric interludes, is the intention to illustrate some general moral law,\nsome common and typical problem, some fundamental truth. Of the elder\ndramatists at any rate, Aeschylus and Sophocles, one may even say that\nit was their purpose--however imperfectly achieved--to \"justify the ways\nof God to man.\" To represent suffering as the punishment of sin is the\nconstant bent of Aeschylus; to justify the law of God against the\npresumption of man is the central idea of Sophocles. In either case the\nwhole tone is essentially religious. To choose such a theme as Lear, to\ntreat it as Shakespeare has treated it, to leave it, as it were,\nbleeding from a thousand wounds, in mute and helpless entreaty for the\nhealing that is never to be vouchsafed--this would have been repulsive,\nif not impossible, to a Greek tragedian. Without ever descending from\nconcrete art to the abstractions of mere moralising, without ever\nattempting to substitute a verbal formula for the full and complex\nperception that grows out of a representation of life, the ancient\ndramatists were nevertheless, in the whole apprehension of their theme,\ndetermined by a more or less conscious speculative bias; the world to\nthem was not merely a splendid chaos, it was a divine plan; and even in\nits darkest hollows, its passes most perilous and bleak, they have their\nhand, though doubtful perhaps and faltering, upon the clue that is to\nlead them up to the open sky.\n\nIt is consonant with this account of the nature of Greek tragedy that it\nshould have laid more stress upon action than upon character. The\ninterest was centred on the universal bearing of certain acts and\nsituations, on the light which the experience represented threw on the\nwhole tendency and course of human life, not on the sentiments and\nmotives of the particular personages introduced. The characters are\nbroad and simple, not developing for the most part, but fixed, and\nfitted therefore to be the mediums of direct action, of simple issues,\nand typical situations. In the Greek tragedy the general point of view\npredominates over the idiosyncrasies of particular persons. It is human\nnature that is represented in the broad, not this or that highly\nspecialised variation; and what we have indicated as the general aim,\nthe interpretation of life, is never obscured by the predominance of\nexceptional and so to speak, accidental characteristics. Man is the\nsubject of the Greek drama; the subject of the modern novel is Tom and\nDick.\n\nFinally, to the realisation of this general aim, the whole form of the\nGreek drama was admirably adapted. It consisted very largely of\nconversations between two persons, representing two opposed points of\nview, and giving occasion for an almost scientific discussion of every\nproblem of action raised in the play; and between these conversations\nwere inserted lyric odes in which the chorus commented on the situation,\nbestowed advice or warning, praise or blame, and finally summed up the\nmoral of the whole. Through the chorus, in fact, the poet could speak in\nhis own person, and impose upon the whole tragedy any tone which he\ndesired. Periodically he could drop the dramatist and assume the\npreacher; and thus ensure that his play should be, what we have seen was\nits recognised ideal, not merely a representation but an interpretation\nof life.\n\nBut this without ceasing to be a work of art. In attempting to analyse\nin abstract terms the general character of the Greek tragedy we have\nnecessarily thrown into the shade what after all was its primary and\nmost essential aspect; an aspect, however, of which a full appreciation\ncould only be attained not by a mere perusal of the text, but by what is\nunfortunately for ever beyond our power, the witnessing of an actual\nrepresentation as it was given on the Greek stage. For from a purely\naesthetic point of view the Greek drama must be reckoned among the most\nperfect of art forms.\n\nTaking place in the open air, on the sunny slope of a hill, valley and\nplain or islanded sea stretching away below to meet the blazing blue of\na cloudless sky, the moving pageant, thus from the first set in tune\nwith nature, brought to a focus of splendour the rays of every separate\nart. More akin to an opera than to a play it had, as its basis, music.\nFor the drama had developed out of the lyric ode, and retained\nthroughout what was at first its only element, the dance and song of a\nmimetic chorus. By this centre of rhythmic motion and pregnant melody\nthe burden of the tale was caught up and echoed and echoed again, as the\nliving globe divided into spheres of answering song, the clear and\nprecise significance of the plot, never obscure to the head, being thus\nbrought home in music to the passion of the heart, the idea embodied in\nlyric verse, the verse transfigured by song, and song and verse\nreflected as in a mirror to the eye by the swing and beat of the limbs\nthey stirred to consonance of motion. And while such was the character\nof the odes that broke the action of the play, the action itself was an\nappeal not less to the ear and to the eye than to the passion and the\nintellect. The circumstances of the representation, the huge auditorium\nin the open air, lent themselves less to \"acting\" in our sense of the\nterm, than to attitude and declamation. The actors raised on high boots\nabove their natural height, their faces hidden in masks and their tones\nmechanically magnified, must have relied for their effects not upon\nfacial play, or rapid and subtle variations of voice and gesture, but\nupon a certain statuesque beauty of pose, and a chanting intonation of\nthat majestic iambic verse whose measure would have been obscured by a\nrapid and conversational delivery. The representation would thus become\nmoving sculpture to the eye, and to the ear, as it were, a sleep of\nmusic between the intenser interludes of the chorus; and the spectator\nwithout being drawn away by an imitative realism from the calm of\nimpassioned contemplation into the fever and fret of a veritable actor\non the scene, received an impression based throughout on that clear\nintellectual foundation, that almost prosaic lucidity of sentiment and\nplot, which is preserved to us in the written text, but raised by the\naccompanying appeal to the sense, made as it must have been made by such\nartists as the Greeks, by the grouping of forms and colours, the\nrecitative, the dance and the song, to such a greatness and height of\naesthetic significance as can hardly have been realized by any other\nform of art production.\n\nThe nearest modern analogy to what the ancient drama must have been is\nto be found probably in the operas of Wagner, who indeed was strongly\ninfluenced by the tragedy of the Greeks. It was his ideal like theirs,\nto combine the various branches of art, employing not only music but\npoetry, sculpture, painting and the dance, for the representation of his\ndramatic theme; and his conception also to make art the interpreter of\nlife, reflecting in a national drama the national consciousness, the\nhighest action and the deepest passion and thought of the German race.\nTo consider how far in this attempt he falls short of or goes beyond the\nachievement of the Greeks, and to examine the wide dissimilarities that\nunderlie the general identity of aim, would be to wander too far afield\nfrom our present theme. But the comparison may be recommended to those\nwho are anxious to form a concrete idea of what the effect of a Greek\ntragedy may have been, and to clothe in imagination the dead bones of\nthe literary text with the flesh and blood of a representation to the\nsense.\n\nMeantime, to assist the reader to realise with somewhat greater\nprecision the bearing of the foregoing remarks, it may be worth while to\ngive an outline sketch of one of the most celebrated of the Greek\ntragedies, the \"Agamemnon\" of Aeschylus.\n\nThe hero of the drama belongs to that heroic house whose tragic history\nwas among the most terrible and the most familiar to a Greek audience.\nTantalus, the founder of the family, for some offence against the gods,\nwas suffering in Hades the punishment which is christened by his name.\nHis son Pelops was stained with the blood of Myrtilus. Of the two sons\nof the next generation, Thyestes seduced the wife of his brother Atreus;\nand Atreus in return killed the sons of Thyestes, and made the father\nunwittingly eat the flesh of the murdered boys. Agamemnon, son of\nAtreus, to propitiate Artemis, sacrificed his daughter Iphigenia, and in\nrevenge was murdered by Clytemnestra his wife. And Clytemnestra was\nkilled by Orestes, her son, in atonement for the death of Agamemnon. For\ngenerations the race had been dogged by crime and punishment; and in\nchoosing for his theme the murder of Agamemnon the dramatist could\nassume in his audience so close a familiarity with the past history of\nthe House that he could call into existence by an allusive word that\nsombre background of woe to enhance the terrors of his actual\npresentation. The figures he brought into vivid relief joined hands with\nmenacing forms that faded away into the night of the future and the\npast; while above them hung, intoning doom, the phantom host of Furies.\n\nYet at the outset of the drama all promises well. The watchman on the\nroof of the palace, in the tenth year of his watch, catches sight at\nlast of the signal fire that announces the capture of Troy and the\nspeedy return of Agamemnon. With joy he proclaims to the House the long-\ndelayed and welcome news; yet even in the moment of exultation lets slip\na doubtful phrase hinting at something behind, which he dares not name,\nsomething which may turn to despair the triumph of victory. Hereupon\nenter the chorus of Argive elders, chanting as they move to the measure\nof a stately march. They sing how ten years before Agamemnon and\nMenelaus had led forth the host of Greece, at the bidding of the Zeus\nwho protects hospitality, to recover for Menelaus Helen his wife,\ntreacherously stolen by Paris. Then, as they take their places and begin\ntheir rhythmic dance, in a strain of impassioned verse that is at once a\nnarrative and a lyric hymn, they tell, or rather, present in a series of\nvivid images, flashing as by illumination of lightning out of a night of\nveiled and sombre boding, the tale of the deed that darkened the\nstarting of the host--the sacrifice of Iphigenia to the goddess whose\nwrath was delaying the fleet at Aulis. In verse, in music, in pantomime,\nthe scene lives again--the struggle in the father's heart, the\ninsistence of his brother chiefs, the piteous glance of the girl, and at\nlast the unutterable end; while above and through it all rings like a\nknell of fate the refrain that is the motive of the whole drama:\n\n\"Sing woe, sing woe, but may the Good prevail.\"\n\nAt the conclusion of the ode enters Clytemnestra. She makes a formal\nannouncement to the chorus of the fall of Troy; describes the course of\nthe signal-fire from beacon to beacon as it sped, and pictures in\nimagination the scenes even then taking place in the doomed city. On her\nwithdrawal the chorus break once more into song and dance. To the music\nof a solemn hymn they point the moral of the fall of Troy, the certain\ndoom of violence and fraud descended upon Paris and his House. Once more\nthe vivid pictures flash from the night of woe--Helen in her fatal\nbeauty stepping lightly to her doom, the widower's nights of mourning\nhaunted by the ghost of love, the horrors of the war that followed, the\nslain abroad and the mourners at home, the change of living flesh and\nblood for the dust and ashes of the tomb. At last with a return to their\noriginal theme, the doom of insolence, the chorus close their ode and\nannounce the arrival of a messenger from Troy. Talthybius, the herald,\nenters as spokesman of the army and king, describing the hardships they\nhave suffered and the joy of the triumphant issue. To him Clytemnestra\nannounces, in words of which the irony is patent to the audience, her\nsufferings in the absence of her husband and her delight at the prospect\nof his return. He will find her, she says, as he left her, a faithful\nwatcher of the home, her loyalty sure, her honour undefiled. Then\nfollows another choral ode, similar in theme to the last, dwelling on\nthe woe brought by the act of Paris upon Troy, the change of the bridal\nsong to the trump of war and the dirge of death; contrasting, in a\nprofusion of splendid tropes, the beauty of Helen with the curse to\nwhich it is bound; and insisting once more on the doom that attends\ninsolence and pride. At the conclusion of this song the measure changes\nto a march, and the chorus turn to welcome the triumphant king.\nAgamemnon enters, and behind him the veiled and silent figure of a\nwoman. After greeting the gods of his House, the King, in brief and\nstilted phrase, acknowledges the loyalty of the chorus, but hints at\nmuch that is amiss which it must be his first charge to set right.\nHereupon enters Clytemnestra, and in a speech of rhetorical exaggeration\ntells of her anxious waiting for her lord and her inexpressible joy at\nhis return. In conclusion she directs that purple cloth be spread upon\nhis path that he may enter the house as befits a conqueror. After a show\nof resistance, Agamemnon yields the point, and the contrast at which the\ndramatist aims is achieved. With the pomp of an eastern monarch, always\nrepellent to the Greek mind, the King steps across the threshold, steps,\nas the audience knows, to his death. The higher the reach of his power\nand pride the more terrible and swift is the nemesis; and Clytemnestra\nfollows in triumph with the enigmatic cry upon her lips: \"Zeus who art\ngod of fulfilment, fulfil my prayers.\" As she withdraws the chorus begin\na song of boding fear, the more terrible that it is still indefinite.\nSomething is going to happen--the presentiment is sure. But what, but\nwhat? They search the night in vain. Meantime, motionless and silent\nwaits the figure of the veiled woman. It is Cassandra, the prophetess,\ndaughter of Priam of Troy, whom Agamemnon has carried home as his prize.\nClytemnestra returns to urge her to enter the house; she makes no sign\nand utters no word. The queen changes her tone from courtesy to anger\nand rebuke; the figure neither stirs nor speaks; and Clytemnestra at\nlast with an angry threat leaves her and returns to the palace. Then,\nand not till then, a cry breaks from the stranger's lips, a passionate\ncry to Apollo who gave her her fatal gift. All the sombre history of the\nHouse to which she has been brought, the woe that has been and the woe\nthat is to come, passes in pictures across her inner sense. In a series\nof broken ejaculations, not sentences but lyric cries, she evokes the\nscenes of the past and of the future. Blood drips from the palace; in\nits chambers the Furies crouch; the murdered sons of Thyestes wail in\nits haunted courts; and ever among the visions of the past that one of\nthe future floats and fades, clearly discerned, impossible to avert, the\nmurder of a husband by a wife; and in the rear of that, most pitiful of\nall, the violent death of the seer who sees in vain and may not help.\nBetween Cassandra and the Chorus it is a duet of anguish and fear; in\nthe broken lyric phrases a phantom music wails; till at last, at what\nseems the breaking-point, the tension is relaxed, and dropping into the\ncalmer iambic recitative, Cassandra tells her message in plainer speech\nand clearly proclaims the murder of the King. Then, with a last appeal\nto the avenger that is to come, she enters the palace alone to meet her\ndeath.--The stage is empty. Suddenly a cry is heard from within; again,\nand then again; while the chorus hesitate the deed is done; the doors\nare thrown open, and Clytemnestra is seen standing over the corpses of\nher victims. All disguise is now thrown off; the murderess avows and\ntriumphs in her deed; she justifies it as vengeance for the sacrifice of\nIphigenia, and sees in herself not a free human agent but the incarnate\ncurse of the House of Tantalus. And now for the first time appears the\nadulterer Aegisthus, who has planned the whole behind the scenes. He too\nis an avenger, for he is the son of that Thyestes who was made to feed\non his own children's flesh. The murder of Agamemnon is but one more\nlink in the long chain of hereditary guilt; and with that exposition of\nthe pitiless law of punishment and crime this chapter of the great drama\ncomes to a close. But the \"Agamemnon\" is only the first of a series of\nthree plays closely connected and meant to be performed in succession;\nand the problem raised in the first of them, the crime that cries for\npunishment and the punishment that is itself a new crime, is solved in\nthe last by a reconciliation of the powers of heaven and hell, and the\npardon of the last offender in the person of Orestes. To sketch,\nhowever, the plan of the other dramas of the trilogy would be to\ntrespass too far upon our space and time. It is enough to have\nillustrated, by the example of the \"Agamemnon,\" the general character of\na Greek tragedy; and those who care to pursue the subject further must\nbe referred to the text of the plays themselves.\n\n\nSection 7. Comedy.\n\nEven more remarkable than the tragedy of the Greeks, in its rendering of\na didactic intention under the forms of a free and spontaneous art, is\nthe older comedy known to us through the works of Aristophanes. As the\nformer dealt with the general conceptions, religious and ethical, that\nunderlay the Greek view of life, using as its medium of exposition the\nancient national myths, so the latter dealt with the particular phases\nof contemporary life, employing the machinery of a free burlesque. The\nachievement of Aristophanes, in fact, is more astonishing, in a sense,\nthan that of Aeschylus. Starting with what is always, _prima\nfacie_, the prose of everyday life, its acrid controversies, its\nvulgar and tedious types, and even its particular individuals--for\nAristophanes does not hesitate to introduce his contemporaries in person\non the stage--he fits to this gross and heavy stuff the wings of\nimagination, scatters from it the clinging mists of banality and spite\nand speeds it forth through the lucid heaven of art amid peals of\nmusical laughter and snatches of lyric song. For Aristophanes was a poet\nas well as a comedian, and his genius is displayed not only in the\nconstruction of his fantastic plots, not only in the inexhaustible\nprofusion of his humane and genial wit, but in bursts of pure poetry as\nmelodious and inspired as ever sprang from the lips of the lyrists of\nGreece or of the world. The basis of the comic as of the tragic art of\nthe Greeks was song and dance; and the chorus, the original element of\nthe play, still retains in the works of Aristophanes a place important\nenough to make it clear that in comedy, too, a prominent aspect of the\nart must have been the aesthetic appeal to the ear and the eye. In\ngeneral structure, in fact, comedy and tragedy were alike; aesthetically\nthe motives were similar, only they were set in a different key.\n\nBut while primarily Aristophanes, like the tragedians, was a great\nartist, he was also, like them, a great interpreter of life. His dramas\nare satires as well as poems, and he was and expressed himself supremely\nconscious of having a \"mission\" to fulfil. \"He has scorned from the\nfirst,\" he makes the chorus sing of himself in the \"Peace\":\n\n     \"He has scorned from the first to descend and to dip\n     Peddling and meddling in private affairs:\n     To detect and collect every petty defect\n     Of husband and wife and domestical life;\n     But intrepid and bold, like Alcides of old,\n     When the rest stood aloof, put himself to the proof\n     In his country's behoof.\"\n          [Footnote: Aristoph. Peace, 751 seq.--Translated by Frere.]\n\nHis aim, in fact, was deliberately to instruct his countrymen in\npolitical and social issues; to attack the abuses of the Assembly, of\nthe Law-courts and the home; to punish demagogues, charlatans,\nprofessional politicians; to laugh back into their senses \"revolting\"\nsons and wives; to defend the orthodox faith against philosophers and\nmen of science. These are the themes that he embodies in his plots, and\nthese the morals that he enforces when he speaks through the chorus in\nhis own person. And the result is an art-product more strange to the\nmodern mind in its union of poetry with prose, of aesthetic with\ndidactic significance, than even that marvellous creation, the Greek\ntragedy. Of the character of this comedy the reader may form an idea\nthrough the admirable and easily accessible translations of Frere;\n[Footnote: In Morley's Universal Library.] and we are therefore\ndispensed from the obligation to attempt, as in the case of tragedy, an\naccount of some particular specimen of the art.\n\n\nSection 8. Summary.\n\nAnd here must conclude our survey of the character of Greek art. The\nmain point which we have endeavoured to make clear has been so often\ninsisted upon, that it is hardly necessary to dwell upon it further. The\nkey to the art of the Greeks, as well as to their ethics, is the\nidentification of the beautiful and the good; and it therefore is as\nnatural in treating of their art to insist on its ethical value as it\nwas to insist on the aesthetic significance of their moral ideal. But,\nin fact, any insistance on either side of the judgment is misleading.\nThe two points of view had never been dissociated; and art and conduct\nalike proceeded from the same imperative impulse, to create a harmony or\norder which was conceived indifferently as beautiful or good. Through\nand through, the Greek ideal is Unity. To make the individual at one\nwith the State, the real with the ideal, the inner with the outer, art\nwith morals, finally to bring all phases of life under the empire of a\nsingle idea, which, with Goethe, we may call, as we will, the good, the\nbeautiful, or the whole--this was the aim, and, to a great extent, the\nachievement of their genius. And of all the points of view from which we\nmay envisage their brilliant activity none perhaps is more central and\nmore characteristic than this of art, whose essence is the comprehension\nof the many in the one, and the perfect reflection of the inner in the\nouter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nCONCLUSION\n\n\nNow that we have examined in some detail the most important phases of\nthe Greek view of life, it may be as well to endeavour briefly to\nrecapitulate and bring to a point the various considerations that have\nbeen advanced.\n\nBut, first, one preliminary remark must be made. Throughout the\npreceding pages we have made no attempt to distinguish the Greek \"view\"\nfrom the Greek \"ideal\"; we have interpreted their customs and\ninstitutions, political, social, or religious, by the conceptions and\nideals of philosophers and poets, and have thus, it may be objected,\nmade the mistake of identifying the blind work of popular instinct with\nthe theories and aspirations of conscious thought.\n\nSuch a procedure, no doubt, would be illegitimate if it were supposed to\nimply that Greek institutions were the result of a deliberate intention\nconsciously adopted and approved by the average man. Like other social\nproducts they grew and were not made; and it was only the few who\nrealised fully all that they implied. But on the other hand it is a\ndistinguishing characteristic of the Greek age that the ideal formulated\nby thought was the direct outcome of the facts. That absolute separation\nof what ought to be from what is which continues to haunt and vitiate\nmodern life had not yet been made in ancient Greece. Plato, idealist\nthough he be, is yet rooted in the facts of his age; his perfect\nrepublic he bases on the institutions of Sparta and Crete; his perfect\nman he shapes on the lines of the Greek citizen. That dislocation of the\nspirit which opposed the body to the soul, heaven to earth, the church\nto the state, the man of the world to the priest, was altogether alien\nto the consciousness of the Greeks. To them the world of fact was also\nthe world of the ideal; the conceptions which inspired their highest\naims were already embodied in their institutions and reflected in their\nlife; and the realisation of what ought to be involved not the\ndestruction of what was, but merely its perfecting on its own lines.\n\nWhile then, on the one hand, it would be ridiculous so to idealise the\ncivilisation of the Greeks as to imply that they had eliminated discord\nand confusion, yet, on the other, it is legitimate to say that they had\nbuilt on the plan of the ideal, and that their life both in public and\nprivate was, by the very law of its existence, an effort to realise\nexplicitly that type of Good which was already implicitly embodied in\nits structure.\n\nThe ideal, in a word, in ancient Greece, was organically related to the\nreal; and that is why it is possible to identify the Greek view with the\nGreek ideal.\n\nBearing this in mind we may now proceed to recapitulate our conclusions\nas to what that view was. And, first, let us take the side of\nspeculation. Here we are concerned not with the formal systems of Greek\nthought, but with that half-unconscious working of imagination as much\nas of mind whose expression was their popular religion. Of this\nreligion, as we saw, the essential feature was that belief in\nanthropomorphic gods, by virtue of which a reconciliation was effected\nbetween man and the powers whether of nature or of his own soul. Behind\nphenomena, physical or psychic, beings were conceived of like nature\nwith man, beings, therefore, whose actions he could interpret and whose\nmotives he could comprehend. For his imagination, if not for his\nintellect, a harmony was thus induced between himself and the world that\nwas not he. A harmony! and in this word we have the key to the dominant\nidea of the Greek civilisation.\n\nFor, turning now to the practical side, we find the same impulse to\nreconcile divergent elements. That antithesis of soul and body which was\nemphasised in the mediaeval view of life and dominates still our current\nethical conceptions, does not appear in the normal consciousness of the\nGreeks. Their ideal for the individual life included the perfection of\nthe body; beauty no less than goodness was the object of their quest,\nand they believed that the one implied the other. But since the\nperfection of the body required the co-operation of external aids, they\nmade these also essential to their ideal. Not merely virtue of the soul,\nnot merely health and beauty of the body, but noble birth, sufficient\nwealth and a good name among men, were included in their conception of\nthe desirable life. Harmony, in a word, was the end they pursued,\nharmony of the soul with the body and of the body with its environment;\nand it is this that distinguishes their ethical ideal from that which in\nlater times has insisted on the fundamental antagonism of the inner to\nthe outer life, and made the perfection of the spirit depend on the\nmortification of the flesh.\n\nThe same ideal of harmony dominates the Greek view of the relation of\nthe individual to the state. This relation, it is true, is often\ndescribed as one in which the parts were subordinated to the whole; but\nmore accurately it may be said that they were conceived as finding in\nthe whole their realisation. The perfect individual was the individual\nin the state; the faculties essential to his excellence had there only\ntheir opportunity of development; the qualities defined as virtues had\nthere only their significance; and it was only in so far as he was a\ncitizen that a man was properly a man at all. Thus that opposition\nbetween the individual and the state which perplexes our own society had\nhardly begun to define itself in Greece. If on the one hand the state\nmade larger claims on the liberty of the individual, on the other, the\nliberty of the individual consisted in a response to the claims. So that\nin this department also harmony was maintained by the Greeks between\nelements which have developed in modern times their latent antagonism.\n\nThus, both in speculation and in practice, in his relation to nature and\nin his relation to the state, both internally, between the divergent\nelements of which his own being was composed, and externally between\nhimself and the world that was not he, it was the aim, conscious or\nunconscious, and, in part at least, the achievement of the Greeks, to\ncreate and maintain an essential harmony. The antitheses of which we in\nour own time are so painfully and increasingly aware, between Man as a\nmoral being and Nature as an indifferent law, between the flesh and the\nspirit, between the individual and the state, do not appear as factors\nin that dominant consciousness of the Greeks under whose influence their\nreligion, their institutions and their customary ideals had been formed.\nAnd so regarded, in general, under what may fairly be called its most\nessential aspect, the Greek civilisation is rightly described as that of\nharmony.\n\nBut, on the other hand, and this is the point to which we must now turn\nour attention, this harmony which was the dominant feature in the\nconsciousness of the Greeks and the distinguishing characteristic of\ntheir epoch in the history of the world, was nevertheless, after all,\nbut a transitory and imperfect attempt to reconcile elements whose\nantagonism was too strong for the solution thus proposed. The factors of\ndisruption were present from the beginning in the Greek ideal; and it\nwas as much by the development of its own internal contradictions as by\nthe invasion of forces from without that that fabric of magical beauty\nwas destined to fall. These contradictions have already been indicated\nat various points in the text, and it only remains to bring them\ntogether in a concluding summary.\n\nOn the side of speculation, the religion of the Greeks was open, as we\nsaw, to a double criticism. On the one hand, the ethical conceptions\nembodied in those legends of the gods which were the product of an\nearlier and more barbarous age, had become to the contemporaries of\nPlato revolting or ridiculous. On the other hand, to metaphysical\nspeculation, not only was the existence of the gods unproved, but their\nmutually conflicting activities, their passions and their caprice, were\nincompatible with that conception of universal law which the developing\nreason evolved as the form of truth. The reconciliation of man with\nnature which had been effected by the medium of anthropomorphic gods was\na harmony only to the imagination, not to the mind. Under the action of\nthe intellect the unstable combination was dissolved and the elements\nthat had been thus imperfectly joined fell back into their original\nopposition. The religion of the Greeks was destroyed by the internal\nevolution of their own consciousness.\n\nAnd in the sphere of practice we are met with a similar dissolution. The\nGreek conception of excellence included, as we saw, not only bodily\nhealth and strength, but such a share at least of external goods as\nwould give a man scope for his own self-perfection. And since these\nconditions were not attainable by all, the sacrifice of the majority to\nthe minority was frankly accepted and the pursuit of the ideal confined\nto a privileged class.\n\nSuch a conception, however, was involved in internal contradictions. For\nin the first place, even for the privileged few, an excellence which\ndepended on external aids was, at the best, uncertain and problematical.\nMisfortune and disease were possibilities that could not be ignored; old\nage and death were imperative certainties; and no care, no art, no\norganisation of society, could obviate the inherent incompatibility of\nindividual perfection with the course of nature. Harmony between the\nindividual and his environment was perhaps more nearly achieved by and\nfor the aristocracy of ancient Greece than by any society of any other\nage. But such a harmony, even at the best, is fleeting and precarious;\nand no perfection of life delivers from death.\n\nAnd, in the second place, to secure even this imperfect realisation, it\nwas necessary to restrict the universal application of the ideal.\nExcellence, in Greece, was made the end for some, not for all. But this\nlimitation was felt, in the development of consciousness, to be self-\ncontradictory; and the next great system of ethics that succeeded to\nthat of Aristotle, postulated an end of action that should be at once\nindependent of the aids of fortune and open alike to all classes of\nmankind. The ethics of a privileged class were thus expanded into the\nethics of humanity; but this expansion was fatal to its essence, which\nhad depended on the very limitations by which it was destroyed.\n\nWith the Greek civilisation beauty perished from the world. Never again\nhas it been possible for man to believe that harmony is in fact the\ntruth of all existence. The intellect and the moral sense have developed\nimperative claims which can be satisfied by no experience known to man.\nAnd as a consequence of this the goal of desire which the Greeks could\nplace in the present, has been transferred, for us, to a future\ninfinitely remote, which nevertheless is conceived as attainable.\nDissatisfaction with the world in which we live and determination to\nrealise one that shall be better, are the prevailing characteristics of\nthe modern spirit. The development is one into whose meaning and end\nthis is not the place to enter. It is enough that we feel it to be\ninevitable; that the harmony of the Greeks contained in itself the\nfactors of its own destruction; and that in spite of the fascination\nwhich constantly fixes our gaze on that fairest and happiest halting-\nplace in the secular march of man, it was not there, any more than here,\nthat he was destined to find the repose of that ultimate reconciliation\nwhich was but imperfectly anticipated by the Greeks.","title":"The Greek View of Life","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":69243}