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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:47:59 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 01:47:59 -0700 |
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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Legacy of Greece + Essays By: Gilbert Murray, W. R. Inge, J. Burnet, Sir T. + L. Heath, D'arcy W. Thompson, Charles Singer, R. W. + Livingston, A. Toynbee, A. E. Zimmern, Percy Gardner, Sir + Reginald Blomfield + +Author: Various + +Editor: R.W. Livingstone + +Release Date: August 6, 2007 [EBook #22259] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGACY OF GREECE *** + + + + +Produced by L.N. Yaddanapudi and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>The Legacy of GREECE<br /><br /><br /> + +<span class='sf50'><i>Essays by</i> <span class='sc'>Gilbert Murray, W. R. Inge, J. Burnet, Sir T. L. Heath, +D’Arcy W. Thompson, Charles Singer, R. W. Livingston, A. Toynbee, +A. E. Zimmern, Percy Gardner, Sir Reginald Blomfield</span><br /><br /><br /> + +<i>Edited by</i></span><br /> + +<span class='sf75'>R. W. LIVINGSTONE</span></h1> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;"> +<img src="images/illus-decoration.png" width="250" height="70" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class='c noin' style='font-size:150%;'><span class='g'>OXFORD</span><br /> +AT THE CLARENDON PRESS</p> + +<hr /> +<p class='c noin sf75'>PRINTED IN ENGLAND AT THE<br /> +UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD<br /> +BY JOHN JOHNSON<br /> +PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY</p> +<hr /> + +<div class='blurb'> +<h3>Transcriber’s Note</h3> +<p>Short fragments of Greek text have a thin dotted blue underline. +The transliterated version appears in a transient pop-up box when +the mouse hovers over the words.</p> +<p>Longer Greek phrases and poems are followed by the transliterated +version in braces.</p></div> + +<hr /> +<p>In spite of many differences, no age has had closer affinities with +Ancient Greece than our own; none has based its deeper life so largely +on ideals which the Greeks brought into the world. History does not +repeat itself. Yet, if the twentieth century searched through the past +for its nearest spiritual kin, it is in the fifth and following +centuries before Christ that they would be found. Again and again, as we +study Greek thought and literature, behind the veil woven by time and +distance, the face that meets us is our own, younger, with fewer lines +and wrinkles on its features and with more definite and deliberate +purpose in its eyes. For these reasons we are to-day in a position, as +no other age has been, to understand Ancient Greece, to learn the +lessons it teaches, and, in studying the ideals and fortunes of men with +whom we have so much in common, to gain a fuller power of understanding +and estimating our own. This book—the first of its kind in +English—aims at giving some idea of what the world owes to Greece in +various realms of the spirit and the intellect, and of what it can still +learn from her.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>The Editor.</p> + +<p><i>October 1921.</i></p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<ul class='off'><li class='lc sc'><span class='ralign'>PAGE</span><br /></li> + +<li><a href='#VALUE'>THE VALUE OF GREECE TO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD.</a> By <span class='sc'>Gilbert Murray</span>, +F.B.A., Regius Professor of Greek in the University of Oxford <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#RELIGION">RELIGION.</a> By <span class='sc'>W. R. Inge</span>, D.D., Dean of St. Paul’s <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_25">25</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#PHILOSOPHY">PHILOSOPHY.</a> By <span class='sc'>J. Burnett</span>, F.B.A., Professor of Greek in the University +of St. Andrews <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#MATHEMATICS">MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY.</a> By Sir <span class='sc'>T. L. Heath</span>, K.C.B., K.C.V.O., F.R.S. +<span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#SCIENCE">NATURAL SCIENCE.</a> By <span class='sc'>D’Arcy W. Thompson</span>, F.R.S., Professor of +Natural History in the University of St. Andrews <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_137">137</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#BIOLOGY">BIOLOGY.</a> By <span class='sc'>Charles Singer</span>, Lecturer in the History of Medicine in +University College, London <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_163">163</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#MEDICINE">MEDICINE.</a> By <span class='sc'>Charles Singer</span> <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_201">201</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#LITERATURE">LITERATURE.</a> By <span class='sc'>R. W. Livingstone</span>, Fellow of Corpus Christi College, +Oxford <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_249">249</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#HISTORY">HISTORY.</a> By <span class='sc'>Arnold Toynbee</span>, Koraés Professor of Byzantine and +Modern Greek Language, Literature, and History in the University of +London <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_289">289</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#POLITICAL">POLITICAL THOUGHT.</a> By <span class='sc'>A. E. Zimmern</span>, late Wilson Professor of +International Politics, University College of Wales, Aberystwyth <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_321">321</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#ART">THE LAMPS OF GREEK ART.</a> By <span class='sc'>Percy Gardner</span>, F.B.A., Merton Professor of +Classical Archaeology in the University of Oxford <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_353">353</a></span></li> + +<li><a href="#ARCHITECTURE">ARCHITECTURE.</a> By Sir <span class='sc'>Reginald Blomfield</span>, F.S.A., R.A. <span class='ralign'><a href="#Page_397">397</a></span></li> +</ul> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="VALUE" id="VALUE"></a>THE VALUE OF GREECE TO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD</h2> + +<p>If the value of man’s life on earth is to be measured in dollars +and miles and horse-power, ancient Greece must count as a +poverty-stricken and a minute territory; its engines and implements were +nearer to the spear and bow of the savage than to our own telegraph and +aeroplane. Even if we neglect merely material things and take as our +standard the actual achievements of the race in conduct and in +knowledge, the average clerk who goes to town daily, idly glancing at +his morning newspaper, is probably a better behaved and infinitely +better informed person than the average Athenian who sat spellbound at +the tragedies of Aeschylus. It is only by the standard of the spirit, to +which the thing achieved is little and the quality of mind that achieved +it much, which cares less for the sum of knowledge attained than for the +love of knowledge, less for much good policing than for one free act of +heroism, that the great age of Greece can be judged as something +extraordinary and unique in value.</p> + +<p>By this standard, if it is a legitimate and reasonable one to apply, we +shall be able to understand why classical Greek literature was the basis +of education throughout all later antiquity; why its re-discovery, +however fragmentary and however imperfectly understood, was able to +intoxicate the keenest minds of Europe and constitute a kind of +spiritual ‘Re-birth’, and how its further and further +exploration may be still a task worth men’s spending their lives +upon and capable of giving mankind guidance as well as inspiration.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +But is such a standard legitimate and reasonable? We shall gain +nothing by unanalysed phrases. But I think surely it is merely the +natural standard of any philosophical historian. Suppose it is argued +that an average optician at the present day knows more optics than Roger +Bacon, the inventor of spectacles; suppose it is argued that therefore +he is, as far as optics go, a greater man, and that Roger Bacon has +nothing to teach us; what is the answer? It is, I suppose, that Roger +Bacon, receiving a certain amount of knowledge from his teachers, had +that in him which turned it to unsuspected directions and made it +immensely greater and more fruitful. The average optician has probably +added a little to what he was taught, but not much, and has doubtless +forgotten or confused a good deal. So that, if by studying Roger +Bacon’s life or his books we could get into touch with his mind +and acquire some of that special moving and inspiring quality of his, it +would help us far more than would the mere knowledge of the optician.</p> + +<p>This truth is no doubt hard to see in the case of purely technical +science; in books of wider range, such as Darwin’s for instance, +it is easy for any reader to feel the presence of a really great mind, +producing inspiration of a different sort from that of the most +excellent up-to-date examination text-book. In philosophy, religion, +poetry, and the highest kinds of art, the greatness of the +author’s mind seems as a rule to be all that matters; one almost +ignores the date at which he worked. This is because in technical +sciences the element of mere fact, or mere knowledge, is so enormous, +the elements of imagination, character, and the like so very small. +Hence, books on science, in a progressive age, very quickly become +‘out of date’, and each new edition usually supersedes the +last. It is the rarest thing for a work of science to survive as a +text-book more than ten years or so. Newton’s <i>Principia</i> is +almost an isolated instance among modern writings.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +Yet there are some few such books. Up till about the year 1900 the +elements of geometry were regularly taught, throughout Europe, in a +text-book written by a Greek called Eucleides in the fourth or third +century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +That text-book lasted over two thousand years. Now, of +course, people have discovered a number of faults in Euclid, but it has +taken them all that time to do it.</p> + +<p>Again, I knew an old gentleman who told me that, at a good English +school in the early nineteenth century, he had been taught the +principles of grammar out of a writer called Dionysius Thrax, or Denis +of Thrace. Denis was a Greek of the first century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, who made or +carried out the remarkable discovery that there was such a thing as a +science of grammar, i. e. that men in their daily speech were +unconsciously obeying an extraordinarily subtle and intricate body of +laws, which were capable of being studied and reduced to order. Denis +did not make the whole discovery himself; he was led to it by his master +Aristarchus and others. And his book had been re-edited several times in +the nineteen-hundred odd years before this old gentleman was taught it.</p> + +<p>To take a third case: all through later antiquity and the middle ages +the science of medicine was based on the writings of two ancient +doctors, Hippocrates and Galen. Galen was a Greek who lived at Rome in +the early Empire, Hippocrates a Greek who lived at the island of Cos in +the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> A great part of the history of modern medicine +is a story of emancipation from the dead hand of these great ancients. +But one little treatise attributed to Hippocrates was in active use in +the training of medical students in my own day in Scotland and is still +in use in some American Universities. It was the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> Oath taken by +medical students in the classic age of Greece when they solemnly faced +the duties of their profession. The disciple swore to honour and obey +his teacher and care for his children if ever they were in need; always +to help his patients to the best of his power; never to use or profess +to use magic or charms or any supernatural means; never to supply poison +or perform illegal operations; never to abuse the special position of +intimacy which a doctor naturally obtains in a sick house, but always on +entering to remember that he goes as a friend and helper to every +individual in it.</p> + +<p>We have given up that oath now: I suppose we do not believe so much in +the value of oaths. But the man who first drew up that oath did a great +deed. He realized and defined the meaning of his high calling in words +which doctors of unknown tongues and undiscovered countries accepted +from him and felt to express their aims for well over two thousand +years.</p> + +<p>Now what do I want to illustrate by these three instances? The rapidity +with which we are now at last throwing off the last vestiges of the yoke +of Greece? No, not that. I want to point out that even in the realm of +science, where progress is so swift and books so short-lived, the Greeks +of the great age had such genius and vitality that their books lived in +a way that no others have lived. Let us get away from the thought of +Euclid as an inky and imperfect English school-book, to that ancient +Eucleides who, with exceedingly few books but a large table of sand let +into the floor, planned and discovered and put together and re-shaped +the first laws of geometry, till at last he had written one of the great +simple books of the world, a book which should stand a pillar and beacon +to mankind long after all the political world that Eucleides knew had +been swept away and the kings he served were conquered by the Romans, +and the Romans in course of time conquered by the barbarians, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> and the +barbarians themselves, with much labour and reluctance, partly by means +of Eucleides’ book, eventually educated; so that at last, in our +own day, they can manage to learn their geometry without it. The time +has come for Euclid to be superseded; let him go. He has surely held the +torch for mankind long enough; and books of science are born to be +superseded. What I want to suggest is that the same extraordinary +vitality of mind which made Hippocrates and Euclid and even Denis of +Thrace last their two thousand years, was also put by the Greeks of the +great age into those activities which are, for the most part at any +rate, not perishable or progressive but eternal.</p> + +<p>This is a simple point, but it is so important that we must dwell on it +for a moment. If we read an old treatise on medicine or mechanics, we +may admire it and feel it a work of genius, but we also feel that it is +obsolete: its work is over; we have got beyond it. But when we read +Homer or Aeschylus, if once we have the power to admire and understand +their writing, we do not for the most part have any feeling of having +got beyond them. We have done so no doubt in all kinds of minor things, +in general knowledge, in details of technique, in civilization and the +like; but hardly any sensible person ever imagines that he has got +beyond their essential quality, the quality that has made them great.</p> + +<p>Doubtless there is in every art an element of mere knowledge or science, +and that element is progressive. But there is another element, too, +which does not depend on knowledge and which does not progress but has a +kind of stationary and eternal value, like the beauty of the dawn, or +the love of a mother for her child, or the joy of a young animal in +being alive, or the courage of a martyr facing torment. We cannot for +all our progress get beyond these things; there they stand, like light +upon the mountains. The only question is whether we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> can rise to them. +And it is the same with all the greatest births of human imagination. As +far as we can speculate, there is not the faintest probability of any +poet ever setting to work on, let us say, the essential effect aimed at +by Aeschylus in the Cassandra-scene of the <i>Agamemnon</i>, and doing it +better than Aeschylus. The only thing which the human race has to do +with that scene is to understand it and get out of it all the joy and +emotion and wonder that it contains.</p> + +<p>This eternal quality is perhaps clearest in poetry: in poetry the +mixture of knowledge matters less. In art there is a constant +development of tools and media and technical processes. The modern +artist can feel that, though he cannot, perhaps, make as good a statue +as Pheidias, he could here and there have taught Pheidias something: and +at any rate he can try his art on subjects far more varied and more +stimulating to his imagination. In philosophy the mixture is more subtle +and more profound. Philosophy always depends in some sense upon science, +yet the best philosophy seems generally to have in it some eternal +quality of creative imagination. Plato wrote a dialogue about the +constitution of the world, the <i>Timaeus</i>, which was highly influential +in later Greece, but seems to us, with our vastly superior scientific +knowledge, almost nonsensical. Yet when Plato writes about the theory of +knowledge or the ultimate meaning of Justice or of Love, no good +philosopher can afford to leave him aside: the chief question is whether +we can rise to the height and subtlety of his thought.</p> + +<p>And here another point emerges, equally simple and equally important if +we are to understand our relation to the past. Suppose a man says: +‘I quite understand that Plato or Aeschylus may have had fine +ideas, but surely anything of value which they said must long before +this have become common property. There is no need to go back to the +Greeks for it. We do not go back and read Copernicus to learn that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> the +earth goes round the sun.’ What is the answer? It is that such a +view ignores exactly this difference between the progressive and the +eternal, between knowledge and imagination. If Harvey discovers that the +blood is not stationary but circulates, if Copernicus discovers that the +earth goes round the sun and not the sun round the earth, those +discoveries can easily be communicated in the most abbreviated form. If +a mechanic invents an improvement on the telephone, or a social reformer +puts some good usage in the place of a bad one, in a few years we shall +probably all be using the improvement without even knowing what it is or +saying Thank you. We may be as stupid as we like, we have in a sense got +the good of it.</p> + +<p>But can one apply the same process to <i>Macbeth</i> or <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>? +Can any one tell us in a few words what they come to? Or can a person +get the good of them in any way except one—the way of vivid and loving +study, following and feeling the author’s meaning all through? To +suppose, as I believe some people do, that you can get the value of a +great poem by studying an abstract of it in an encyclopaedia or by +reading cursorily an average translation of it, argues really a kind of +mental deficiency, like deafness or colour-blindness. The things that we +have called eternal, the things of the spirit and the imagination, +always seem to lie more in a process than in a result, and can only be +reached and enjoyed by somehow going through the process again. If the +value of a particular walk lies in the scenery, you do not get that +value by taking a short cut or using a fast motor-car.</p> + +<p>In looking back, then, upon any vital and significant age of the past we +shall find objects of two kinds. First, there will be things like the +Venus of Milo or the Book of Job or Plato’s <i>Republic</i>, which are +interesting or precious in themselves, because of their own inherent +qualities; secondly, there will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> be things like the Roman code of the +Twelve Tables or the invention of the printing-press or the record of +certain great battles, which are interesting chiefly because they are +causes of other and greater things or form knots in the great web of +history—the first having artistic interest, the second only historical +interest, though, of course, it is obvious that in any concrete case +there is generally a mixture of both.</p> + +<p>Now Ancient Greece is important in both ways. For the artist or poet it +has in a quite extraordinary degree the quality of beauty. For instance, +to take a contrast with Rome: if you dig about the Roman Wall in +Cumberland you will find quantities of objects, altars, inscriptions, +figurines, weapons, boots and shoes, which are full of historic interest +but are not much more beautiful than the contents of a modern rubbish +heap. And the same is true of most excavations all over the world. But +if you dig at any classical or sub-classical site in the Greek world, +however unimportant historically, practically every object you find will +be beautiful. The wall itself will be beautiful; the inscriptions will +be beautifully cut; the figurines, however cheap and simple, may have +some intentional grotesques among them, but the rest will have a special +truthfulness and grace; the vases will be of good shapes and the +patterns will be beautiful patterns. If you happen to dig in a +burying-place and come across some epitaphs on the dead, they will +practically all—even when the verses do not quite scan and the words +are wrongly spelt—have about them this inexplicable touch of beauty.</p> + +<p>I am anxious not to write nonsense about this. One could prove the point +in detail by taking any collection of Greek epitaphs, and that is the +only way in which it can be proved. The beauty is a fact, and if we try +to analyse the sources of it we shall perhaps in part understand how it +has come to pass.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +In the first place, it is not a beauty of ornament; it is a beauty of +structure, a beauty of rightness and simplicity. Compare an athlete in +flannels playing tennis and a stout dignitary smothered in gold robes. +Or compare a good modern yacht, swift, lithe, and plain, with a +lumbering heavily gilded sixteenth-century galleon, or even with a +Chinese state junk: the yacht is far the more beautiful though she has +not a hundredth part of the ornament. It is she herself that is +beautiful, because her lines and structure are right. The others are +essentially clumsy and, therefore, ugly things, dabbed over with gold +and paint. Now ancient Greek things for the most part have the beauty of +the yacht. The Greeks used paint a good deal, but apart from that a +Greek temple is almost as plain as a shed: people accustomed to +arabesques and stained glass and gargoyles can very often see nothing in +it. A Greek statue has as a rule no ornament at all: a young man racing +or praying, an old man thinking, there it stands expressed in a stately +and simple convention, true or false, the anatomy and the surfaces right +or wrong, aiming at no beauty except the truest. It would probably seem +quite dull to the maker of a mediaeval wooden figure of a king which I +remember seeing in a town in the east of Europe: a crown blazing with +many-coloured glass, a long crimson robe covered with ornaments and +beneath them an idiot face, no bones, no muscles, no attitude. That is +not what a Greek meant by beauty. The same quality holds to a great +extent of Greek poetry. Not, of course, that the artistic convention was +the same, or at all similar, for treating stone and for treating +language. Greek poetry is statuesque in the sense that it depends +greatly on its organic structure; it is not in the least so in the sense +of being cold or colourless or stiff. But Greek poetry on the whole has +a bareness and severity which disappoints a modern reader, accustomed as +he is to lavish ornament and exaggeration at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> every turn. It has the +same simplicity and straightforwardness as Greek sculpture. The poet has +something to say and he says it as well and truly as he can in the +suitable style, and if you are not interested you are not. With some +exceptions which explain themselves he does not play a thousand pretty +tricks and antics on the way, so that you may forget the dullness of +what he says in amusement at the draperies in which he wraps it.</p> + +<p>But here comes an apparent difficulty. Greek poetry, we say, is very +direct, very simple, very free from irrelevant ornament. And yet when we +translate it into English and look at our translation, our main feeling, +I think, is that somehow the glory has gone: a thing that was high and +lordly has become poor and mean. Any decent Greek scholar when he opens +one of his ancient poets feels at once the presence of something lofty +and rare—something like the atmosphere of <i>Paradise Lost</i>. But the +language of <i>Paradise Lost</i> is elaborately twisted and embellished into +loftiness and rarity; the language of the Greek poem is simple and +direct. What does this mean?</p> + +<p>I can only suppose that the normal language of Greek poetry is in itself +in some sense sublime. Most critics accept this as an obvious fact, yet, +if true, it is a very strange fact and worth thinking about. It depends +partly on mere euphony: <i>Khaireis horôn fôs</i> is probably more beautiful +in sound than ‘You rejoice to see the light’, but euphony +cannot be everything. The sound of a great deal of Greek poetry, either +as we pronounce it, or as the ancients pronounced it, is to modern ears +almost ugly. It depends partly, perhaps, on the actual structure of the +Greek language: philologists tell us that, viewed as a specimen, it is +in structure and growth and in power of expressing things, the most +perfect language they know. And certainly one often finds that a thought +can be expressed with ease and grace in Greek which becomes clumsy and +involved in Latin,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +English, French or German. But neither of these +causes goes, I think, to the root of the matter.</p> + +<p>What is it that gives words their character and makes a style high or +low? Obviously, their associations; the company they habitually keep in +the minds of those who use them. A word which belongs to the language of +bars and billiard saloons will become permeated by the normal standard +of mind prevalent in such places; a word which suggests Milton or +Carlyle will have the flavour of those men’s minds about it. I +therefore cannot resist the conclusion that, if the language of Greek +poetry has, to those who know it intimately, this special quality of +keen austere beauty, it is because the minds of the poets who used that +language were habitually toned to a higher level both of intensity and +of nobility than ours. It is a finer language because it expresses the +minds of finer men. By ‘finer men’ I do not necessarily mean +men who behaved better, either by our standards or by their own; I mean +men to whom the fine things of the world, sunrise and sea and stars and +the love of man for man, and strife and the facing of evil for the sake +of good, and even common things like meat and drink, and evil things +like hate and terror, had, as it were, a keener edge than they have for +us and roused a swifter and a nobler reaction.</p> + +<p>Let us resume this argument before going further. We start from the +indisputable fact that the Greeks of about the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> did +for some reason or other produce various works of art, buildings and +statues and books, especially books, which instead of decently dying or +falling out of fashion in the lifetime of the men who made them, lasted +on and can still cause high thoughts and intense emotions. In trying to +explain this strange fact we notice that the Greeks had a great and +pervading instinct for beauty, and for beauty of a particular kind. It +is a beauty which never lies in irrelevant ornament, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> but always in the +very essence and structure of the object made. In literature we found +that the special beauty which we call Greek depends partly on the +directness, truthfulness, and simplicity with which the Greeks say what +they want to say, and partly on a special keenness and nobility in the +language, which seems to be the natural expression of keen and noble +minds. Can we in any way put all these things together so as to explain +them—or at any rate to hold them together more clearly?</p> + +<p>An extremely old and often misleading metaphor will help us. People have +said: ‘The world was young then.’ Of course, strictly +speaking, it was not. In the total age of the world or of man the two +thousand odd years between us and Pericles do not count for much. Nor +can we imagine that a man of sixty felt any more juvenile in the fifth +century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> than he does now. It was just the other way, because at +that time there were no spectacles or false teeth. Yet in a sense the +world <i>was</i> young then, at any rate our western world, the world of +progress and humanity. For the beginnings of nearly all the great things +that progressive minds now care for were then being laid in Greece.</p> + +<p>Youth, perhaps, is not exactly the right word. There are certain +plants—some kinds of aloe, for instance—which continue for an +indefinite number of years in a slow routine of ordinary life close to +the ground, and then suddenly, when they have stored enough vital force, +grow ten feet high and burst into flower, after which, no doubt, they +die or show signs of exhaustion. Apart from the dying, it seems as if +something like that happened from time to time to the human race, or to +such parts of it as really bear flowers at all. For most races and +nations during the most of their life are not progressive but simply +stagnant, sometimes just managing to preserve their standard customs, +sometimes slipping back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +the slough. That is why history has nothing +to say about them. The history of the world consists mostly in the +memory of those ages, quite few in number, in which some part of the +world has risen above itself and burst into flower or fruit.</p> + +<p>We ourselves happen to live in the midst or possibly in the close of one +such period. More change has probably taken place in daily life, in +ideas, and in the general aspect of the earth during the last century +than during any four other centuries since the Christian era: and this +fact has tended to make us look on rapid progress as a normal condition +of the human race, which it never has been. And another such period of +bloom, a bloom comparatively short in time and narrow in area, but +amazingly swift and intense, occurred in the lower parts of the Balkan +peninsula from about the sixth to the fourth centuries before Christ.</p> + +<p>Now it is this kind of bloom which fills the world with hope and +therefore makes it young. Take a man who has just made a discovery or an +invention, a man happily in love, a man who is starting some great and +successful social movement, a man who is writing a book or painting a +picture which he knows to be good; take men who have been fighting in +some great cause which before they fought seemed to be hopeless and now +is triumphant; think of England when the Armada was just defeated, +France at the first dawn of the Revolution, America after Yorktown: such +men and nations will be above themselves. Their powers will be stronger +and keener; there will be exhilaration in the air, a sense of walking in +new paths, of dawning hopes and untried possibilities, a confidence that +all things can be won if only we try hard enough. In that sense the +world will be young. In that sense I think it was young in the time of +Themistocles and Aeschylus. And it is that youth which is half the +secret of the Greek spirit.</p> + +<p>And here I may meet an objection that has perhaps been +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> lurking in the +minds of many readers. ‘All this,’ they may say, +‘professes to be a simple analysis of known facts, but in reality +is sheer idealization. These Greeks whom you call so “noble” +have been long since exposed. Anthropology has turned its searchlights +upon them. It is not only their ploughs, their weapons, their musical +instruments, and their painted idols that resemble those of the savages; +it is everything else about them. Many of them were sunk in the most +degrading superstitions: many practised unnatural vices: in times of +great fear some were apt to think that the best “medicine” +was a human sacrifice. After that, it is hardly worth mentioning that +their social structure was largely based on slavery; that they lived in +petty little towns, like so many wasps’ nests, each at war with +its next-door neighbour, and half of them at war with themselves!’</p> + +<p>If our anti-Greek went further he would probably cease to speak the +truth. We will stop him while we can still agree with him. These charges +are on the whole true, and, if we are to understand what Greece means, +we must realize and digest them. We must keep hold of two facts: first, +that the Greeks of the fifth century produced some of the noblest poetry +and art, the finest political thinking, the most vital philosophy, known +to the world; second, that the people who heard and saw, nay perhaps, +even the people who produced these wonders, were separated by a thin and +precarious interval from the savage. Scratch a civilized Russian, they +say, and you find a wild Tartar. Scratch an ancient Greek, and you hit, +no doubt, on a very primitive and formidable being, somewhere between a +Viking and a Polynesian.</p> + +<p>That is just the magic and the wonder of it. The spiritual effort +implied is so tremendous. We have read stories of savage chiefs +converted by Christian or Buddhist missionaries, who within a year or so +have turned from drunken corroborees and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> bloody witch-smellings to a +life that is not only godly but even philanthropic and statesmanlike. We +have seen the Japanese lately go through some centuries of normal growth +in the space of a generation. But in all such examples men have only +been following the teaching of a superior civilization, and after all, +they have not ended by producing works of extraordinary and original +genius. It seems quite clear that the Greeks owed exceedingly little to +foreign influence. Even in their decay they were a race, as Professor +Bury observes, accustomed ‘to take little and to give much’. +They built up their civilization for themselves. We must listen with due +attention to the critics who have pointed out all the remnants of +savagery and superstition that they find in Greece: the slave-driver, +the fetish-worshipper and the medicine-man, the trampler on women, the +bloodthirsty hater of all outside his own town and party. But it is not +those people that constitute Greece; those people can be found all over +the historical world, commoner than blackberries. It is not anything +fixed and stationary that constitutes Greece: what constitutes Greece is +the movement which leads from all these to the Stoic or fifth-century +‘sophist’ who condemns and denies slavery, who has abolished +all cruel superstitions and preaches some religion based on philosophy +and humanity, who claims for women the same spiritual rights as for man, +who looks on all human creatures as his brethren, and the world as +‘one great City of gods and men’. It is that movement which +you will not find elsewhere, any more than the statues of Pheidias or +the dialogues of Plato or the poems of Aeschylus and Euripides.</p> + +<p>From all this two or three results follow. For one thing, being built up +so swiftly, by such keen effort, and from so low a starting-point, Greek +civilization was, amid all its glory, curiously unstable and full of +flaws. Such flaws made it, of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> course, much worse for those who lived in +it, but they hardly make it less interesting or instructive to those who +study it. Rather the contrary. Again, the near neighbourhood of the +savage gives to the Greek mind certain qualities which we of the safer +and solider civilizations would give a great deal to possess. It springs +swift and straight. It is never jaded. Its wonder and interest about the +world are fresh. And lastly there is one curious and very important +quality which, unless I am mistaken, belongs to Greek civilization more +than to any other. To an extraordinary degree it starts clean from +nature, with almost no entanglements of elaborate creeds and customs and +traditions.</p> + +<p>I am not, of course, forgetting the prehistoric Minoan civilization, nor +yet the peculiar forms—mostly simple enough—into which the traditional +Greek religion fell. It is possible that I may be a little misled by my +own habit of living much among Greek things and so forgetting through +long familiarity how odd some of them once seemed. But when all +allowances are made, I think that this clean start from nature is, on +the whole, a true claim. If a thoughtful European or American wants to +study Chinese or Indian things, he has not only to learn certain data of +history and mythology, he has to work his mind into a particular +attitude; to put on, as it were, spectacles of a particular sort. If he +wants to study mediaeval things, if he takes even so universal a poet as +Dante, it is something the same. Curious views about the Pope and the +emperor, a crabbed scholastic philosophy, a strange and to the modern +mind rather horrible theology, floating upon the flames of Hell: all +these have somehow to be taken into his imagination before he can +understand his Dante. With Greek things this is very much less so. The +historical and imaginative background of the various great poets and +philosophers is, no doubt, highly important. A great part of the work of +modern scholarship<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +is now devoted to getting it clearer. But on the +whole, putting aside for the moment the possible inadequacies of +translation, Greek philosophy speaks straight to any human being who is +willing to think simply, Greek art and poetry to any one who can use his +imagination and enjoy beauty. He has not to put on the fetters or the +blinkers of any new system in order to understand them; he has only to +get rid of his own—a much more profitable and less troublesome task.</p> + +<p>This particular conclusion will scarcely, I think, be disputed, but the +point presents difficulties and must be dwelt upon.</p> + +<p>In the first place, it does not mean that Greek art is what we call +‘naturalist’ or ‘realist’. It is markedly the +reverse. Art to the Greek is always a form of <i>Sophia</i>, or Wisdom, a +<i>Technê</i> with rules that have to be learnt. Its air of utter simplicity +is deceptive. The pillar that looks merely straight is really a thing of +subtle curves. The funeral bas-relief that seems to represent in the +simplest possible manner a woman saying good-bye to her child is +arranged, plane behind plane, with the most delicate skill and sometimes +with deliberate falsification of perspective. There is always some +convention, some idealization, some touch of the light that never was on +sea or land. Yet all the time, I think, Greek art remains in a +remarkable degree close to nature. The artist’s eye is always on +the object, and, though he represents it in his own style, that style is +always normal and temperate, free from affectation, free from +exaggeration or morbidity and, in the earlier periods, free from +conventionality. It is art without doubt; but it is natural and normal +art, such as grew spontaneously when mankind first tried in freedom to +express beauty. For example, the language of Greek poetry is markedly +different from that of prose, and there are even clear differences of +language between different styles of poetry. And further, the poetry is +very seldom about the present. It is about the past, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> and that an ideal +past. What we have to notice there is that this kind of rule, which has +been usual in all great ages of poetry, is apparently not an artificial +or arbitrary thing but a tendency that grew up naturally with the first +great expressions of poetical feeling.</p> + +<p>Furthermore, this closeness to nature, this absence of a unifying or +hide-bound system of thought, acting together with other causes, has led +to the extraordinary variety and many-sidedness which is one of the most +puzzling charms of Ancient Greece as contrasted, say, with Israel or +Assyria or early Rome. Geographically it is a small country with a +highly indented coast-line and an interior cut into a great number of +almost isolated valleys. Politically it was a confused unity made up of +numerous independent states, one walled city of a few thousand +inhabitants being quite enough to form a state. And the citizens of +these states were, each of them, rather excessively capable of forming +opinions of their own and fighting for them. Hence came in practice much +isolation and faction and general weakness, to the detriment of the +Greeks themselves; but the same cause led in thought and literature to +immense variety and vitality, to the great gain of us who study the +Greeks afterwards. There is hardly any type of thought or style of +writing which cannot be paralleled in ancient Greece, only they will +there be seen, as it were, in their earlier and simpler forms. Traces of +all the things that seem most un-Greek can be found somewhere in Greek +literature: voluptuousness, asceticism, the worship of knowledge, the +contempt for knowledge, atheism, pietism, the religion of serving the +world and the religion of turning away from the world: all these and +almost all other points of view one can think of are represented +somewhere in the records of that one small people. And there is hardly +any single generalization in this chapter which the author himself could +not controvert by examples to the contrary. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> You feel in general a great +absence of all fetters: the human mind free, rather inexperienced, +intensely interested in life and full of hope, trying in every direction +for that excellence which the Greeks called <i>aretê</i>, and guided by some +peculiar instinct toward Temperance and Beauty.</p> + +<p>The variety is there and must not be forgotten; yet amid the variety +there are certain general or central characteristics, mostly due to this +same quality of freshness and closeness to nature.</p> + +<p>If you look at a Greek statue or bas-relief, or if you read an average +piece of Aristotle, you will very likely at first feel bored. Why? +Because it is all so normal and truthful; so singularly free from +exaggeration, paradox, violent emphasis; so destitute of those +fascinating by-forms of insanity which appeal to some similar faint +element of insanity in ourselves. ‘We are sick’, we may +exclaim, ‘of the sight of these handsome, perfectly healthy men +with grave faces and normal bones and muscles! We are sick of being told +that Virtue is a mean between two extremes and tends to make men happy! +We shall not be interested unless some one tells us that Virtue is the +utter abnegation of self, or, it may be, the extreme and ruthless +assertion of self; or again, that Virtue is all an infamous mistake! And +for statues, give us a haggard man with starved body and cavernous eyes, +cursing God—or give us something rolling in fat and colour....’</p> + +<p>What is at the back of this sort of feeling? which I admit often takes +more reasonable forms than these I have suggested. It is the same +psychological cause that brings about the changes of fashion in art or +dress: which loves ‘stunts’ and makes the fortunes of yellow +newspapers. It is boredom or <i>ennui</i>. We have had too much of A; we are +sick of it, we know how it is done and despise it; give us some B, or +better still some Z. And after a strong dose of Z we shall crave for the +beginning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +of the alphabet again. But now think of a person who is not +bored at all; who is, on the contrary, immensely interested in the +world, keen to choose good things and reject bad ones; full of the +desire for knowledge and the excitement of discovery. The joy to him is +to see things as they are and to judge them normally. He is not bored by +the sight of normal, healthy muscles in a healthy, well-shaped body; he +is delighted. If you distort the muscles for emotional effect, he would +say with disappointment: ‘But that is ugly!’ or ‘But a +man’s muscles do <i>not</i> go like that!’ He will have noted +that tears are salt and rather warm; but if you say like a modern poet +that your heroine’s tears are ‘more hot than fire, more salt +than the salt sea’, he will probably think your statement <span class='t' title='apithanon'>απιθανον</span> +‘unpersuasive’, and therefore <span class='t' title='psychron'>ψυχρον</span> +‘chilling’.</p> + +<p>It is perhaps especially in the religious and moral sphere that we are +accustomed to the habitual use of ecstatic language: expressions that +are only true of exalted moments are used by us as the commonplaces of +ordinary life. ‘It is a thousand times worse to see another suffer +than to suffer oneself.’ ‘True love only desires the +happiness of the beloved object.’ This kind of ‘high +falutin’’ has become part of our regular mental habit, just +as dead metaphors by the bushel are a part of our daily language. +Consequently we are a little chilled and disappointed by a language in +which people hardly ever use a metaphor except when they vividly realize +it, and never utter heroic sentiments except when they are wrought up to +the pitch of feeling them true. Does this mean that the Greek always +remains, so to speak, at a normal temperature, that he never has intense +or blinding emotions? Not in the least. It shows a lack of faith in the +value of life to imagine such a conclusion. It implies that you can only +reach great emotion by pretence, or by habitually exaggerating small +emotions, whereas probably the exact reverse is the case. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> the +great thing comes, then the Greek will have the great word and the great +thought ready. It is the habitual exaggerator who will perhaps be +bankrupt. And after all—the great things are sure to come!</p> + +<p>The power of seeing things straight and knowing what is beautiful or +noble, quite undisturbed by momentary boredoms or changes of taste, is a +very rare gift and never perhaps possessed in full by any one. But there +is a profound rule of art, bidding a man in the midst of all his study +of various styles or his pursuit of his own peculiar imaginations, from +time to time <i>se retremper dans la nature</i>—‘to steep himself +again in nature’. And in something the same way it seems as if the +world ought from time to time to steep itself again in Hellenism: that +is, it ought, amid all the varying affectations and extravagances and +changes of convention in art and letters, to have some careful regard +for those which arose when man first awoke to the meaning of truth and +beauty and saw the world freely as a new thing.</p> + +<p>Is this exaggeration? I think not. But no full defence of it can be +attempted here. In this essay we have been concerned almost entirely +with the artistic interest of Greece. It would be equally possible to +dwell on the historical interest. Then we should find that, for that +branch of mankind which is responsible for western civilization, the +seeds of almost all that we count best in human progress were sown in +Greece. The conception of beauty as a joy in itself and as a guide in +life was first and most vividly expressed in Greece, and the very laws +by which things are beautiful or ugly were to a great extent discovered +there and laid down. The conception of Freedom and Justice, freedom in +body, in speech and in mind, justice between the strong and the weak, +the rich and the poor, penetrates the whole of Greek political thought, +and was, amid obvious flaws, actually realized to a remarkable degree +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +in the best Greek communities. The conception of Truth as an end to +pursue for its own sake, a thing to discover and puzzle out by +experiment and imagination and especially by Reason, a conception +essentially allied with that of Freedom and opposed both to anarchy and +to blind obedience, has perhaps never in the world been more clearly +grasped than by the early Greek writers on science and philosophy. One +stands amazed sometimes at the perfect freedom of their thought. Another +conception came rather later, when the small City States with exclusive +rights of citizenship had been merged in a larger whole: the conception +of the universal fellowship between man and man. Greece realized soon +after the Persian war that she had a mission to the world, that +Hellenism stood for the higher life of man as against barbarism, for +Aretê, or Excellence, as against the mere effortless average. First came +the crude patriotism which regarded every Greek as superior to every +barbarian; then came reflection, showing that not all Greeks were true +bearers of the light, nor all barbarians its enemies; that Hellenism was +a thing of the spirit and not dependent on the race to which a man +belonged or the place where he was born: then came the new word and +conception <span class='t' title='anthrôpotês'>ανθρωποτης</span>, <i>humanitas</i>, which to the Stoics made +the world as one brotherhood. No people known to history clearly +formulated these ideals before the Greeks, and those who have spoken the +words afterwards seem for the most part to be merely echoing the +thoughts of old Greek men.</p> + +<p>These ideas, the pursuit of Truth, Freedom, Beauty, Excellence are not +everything. They have been a leaven of unrest in the world; they have +held up a light which was not always comforting to the eyes to see. +There is another ideal which is generally stronger and may, for all we +know, in the end stamp them out as evil things. There is Submission +instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +of Freedom, the deadening or brutalizing of the senses instead +of Beauty, the acceptance of tradition instead of the pursuit of Truth, +the belief in hallucination or passion instead of Reason and Temperate +Thought, the obscuring of distinctions between good and bad and the +acceptance of all human beings and all states of mind as equal in value. +If something of this kind should prove in the end to be right for man, +then Greece will have played the part of the great wrecker in human +history. She will have held up false lights which have lured our ship to +dangerous places. But at any rate, through calm and storm, she does hold +her lights; she lit them first of the nations and held them during her +short reign the clearest; and whether we believe in an individual life +founded on Freedom, Reason, Beauty, Excellence and the pursuit of Truth, +and an international life aiming at the fellowship between man and man, +or whether we think these ideals the great snares of human politics, +there is good cause for some of us in each generation at the cost of +some time and trouble to study such important forces where they first +appear consciously in the minds of our spiritual ancestors. In the +thought and art of ancient Greece, more than any other, we shall find +these forces, and also to some extent their great opposites, fresh, +clean and comparatively uncomplicated, with every vast issue wrought out +on a small material scale and every problem stated in its lowest terms.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Gilbert Murray.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RELIGION" id="RELIGION"></a>RELIGION</h2> + +<p>Those who write about the Greeks must beware of a heresy which is very +rife just now—the theory of <i>racialism</i>. Political ethnology, which is +no genuine science, excused the ambition of the Germans to themselves, +and helped them to wage war; it has suggested to the Allies a method of +waging peace. The false and mischievous doctrine of superior and +inferior races is used to justify oppression in Europe, and murder by +torture in America. It will not help us to understand the Greeks. The +Greeks were a nation of splendid mongrels, made up of the same elements, +differently mixed, as ourselves. Their famous beauty, which had almost +disappeared when Cicero visited Athens, was mainly the result of a +healthy outdoor life and physical training, combined with a very +becoming costume. They were probably not handsomer than Oxford rowing +crews or Eton boys. Their flowering time of genius was due to the same +causes which produced similar results in the Italian Renaissance. The +city-state is a forcing-house of brilliant achievement, though it +quickly uses up its human material. We cannot even regard the Greeks as +a homogeneous mixed race. The Spartiates were almost pure Nordics; the +Athenians almost pure Mediterraneans. The early colonists, from whom +sprang so many of the greatest names in the Hellenic roll of honour, are +not likely to have kept their blood pure. Nor was there ever a Greek +culture shared by all the Greeks. The Spartan system, that of a small +fighting tribe encamped in a subject country, recalls that of +Chaka’s Zulus; Arcadia was bucolic, Aetolia barbarous, Boeotia +stolid, Macedonia half outside the pale. The consciousness of race +among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +the Greeks counted practically for about as much as the +consciousness of being white men, or Christians, does in modern +civilization.</p> + +<p>Greece for our purposes means not a race, but a culture, a language and +literature, and still more an attitude towards life, which for us begins +with Homer, and persists, with many changes but no breaks, till the +closing of the Athenian lecture-rooms by Justinian. The changes no doubt +were great, when politically Greece was living Greece no more, and when +the bearers of the tradition were no longer the lineal descendants of +those who established it. But the tradition, enshrined in literature, in +monuments, and in social customs, survived. The civilization of the +Roman Empire was not Italian but Greek. After the sixth century, +Hellenism—the language, the literature, and the attitude towards +life—was practically lost to the West for nearly a thousand years. It +was recovered at the Renaissance, and from that time to this has been a +potent element in western civilization. The Dark Ages, and the early +Middle Ages, are the period during which the West was cut off from +Hellenism. Yet even then the severance was not complete. For these were +the ages of the Catholic theocracy; and if we had to choose one man as +the founder of Catholicism as a theocratic system, we should have to +name neither Augustine nor St. Paul, still less Jesus Christ, but Plato, +who in the <i>Laws</i> sketches out with wonderful prescience the conditions +for such a polity, and the form which it would be compelled to take. +Even in speculative thought we know that Augustine owed much to the +Platonists, the Schoolmen to Aristotle, the mystics to the pupil of +Proclus whom they called Dionysius. Only Greek science, and the +scientific spirit, were almost completely lost, and a beginning <i>de +novo</i> had to be made when the West shook off its fetters.</p> + +<p>Hellenism then is not the mind of a particular ethnic type, nor of a +particular period. It was not destroyed, though it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> was emasculated, by +the loss of political freedom; it was neither killed nor died a natural +death. Its philosophy was continuous from Thales to Proclus, and again +from Ficino and Pico to Lotze and Bradley, after a long sleep which was +not death. Its religion passes into Christian theology and cultus +without any real break. The early Church spoke in Greek and thought in +Greek. In the days of Greek freedom to be a Greek had meant to be a +citizen of a Greek canton; after Alexander it meant to have Greek +culture. None of the great Stoics were natives of Greece proper; Zeno +himself was a Semite. Of the later Greek writers, Marcus Aurelius was a +Romanized Spaniard, Plotinus possibly a Copt, Porphyry and Lucian +Syrians, Philo, St. Paul, and probably the Fourth Evangelist were Jews. +These men all belong to the history of Greek culture. And if these were +Greeks how shall we deny the name to Raphael and Michael Angelo, to +Spenser and Sidney, to Keats and Shelley? When Blake wrote—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sun’s light when he unfolds it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depends on the organ that beholds it,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">he was summing up, not only the philosophy of the Lake Poets but the +fundamental dogma of the maturest Greek thought. Would not Plato have +rejoiced in Michael Angelo’s confession of faith, which Wordsworth +has translated for us?</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course must hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the visible world she soars to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For what delights the sense is false and weak)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ideal Form, the universal mould.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise man, I affirm, can find no rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that which perishes; nor will he lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His heart to aught that doth on time depend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Has the highest aspect of Greek religion ever been better expressed than +by Wordsworth himself, to whom, as to Blake, it came by inspiration and +not from books?</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While yet a child, and long before his time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had he perceived the presence and the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of greatness; and deep feelings had impressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So vividly great objects that <i>they lay</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Upon his mind like substances</i>, whose presence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perplexed the bodily sense.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The spirit of man does not live only on tradition; it can draw direct +from the fountain-head. We are dealing with a permanent type of human +culture, which is rightly named after the Greeks, since it attained its +chief glory in the literature and art of the Hellenic cities, but which +cannot be separated from western civilization as an alien importation. +Without what we call our debt to Greece we should have neither our +religion nor our philosophy nor our science nor our literature nor our +education nor our politics. We should be mere barbarians. We need not +speculate how much we might ultimately have discovered for ourselves. +Our civilization is a tree which has its roots in Greece, or, to borrow +a more appropriate metaphor from Clement of Alexandria, it is a river +which has received affluents from every side; but its head waters are +Greek. The continuity of Greek thought and practice in religion and +religious philosophy is especially important, and it is necessary to +emphasize it because the accident of our educational curriculum leaves +in the minds of most students a broad chasm between the Stoics and the +Christians, ignores the later Greek philosophy of religion altogether, +and traces Christian dogma back to Palestine, with which it has very +little connexion.</p> + +<p>Our sense of continuity is dulled in another way. There is a tendency to +isolate certain aspects of Hellenic life and thought as characteristic, +and to stamp others, which are equally found among the ancient Greeks, +as untypical and exceptional. In the sphere of religion, with which we +are concerned in this essay, we are bidden to regard Plato and Euripides +as rebels<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +against the national tradition, and not as normal products of +their age and country. I do not feel at liberty to pick and choose in +this fashion. A national character may be best exemplified in its +rebels, a religion in its heretics. If Nietzsche was right in calling +Plato a Christian before Christ, I do not therefore regard him as an +unhellenic Greek. Rather, I trace back to him, and so to Greece, the +religion and the political philosophy of the Christian Church, and the +Christian type of mysticism. If Euripides anticipated to an +extraordinary degree the devout agnosticism, the vague pantheism, the +humanitarian sentiment of the nineteenth (rather than of the twentieth) +century, I do not consider that he was a freak in fifth-century Athens, +but that Greece showed us the way even in paths where we have not been +used to look to her for guidance. I am equally reluctant to assume, +without evidence, that the later Platonism, whether we call it religion +or philosophy, is unhellenic. It is quite unnecessary to look for +Asiatic influences in a school which clung close to the Attic tradition. +It is more to the purpose to show how a religious philosophy of mystical +revelation and introspection grew naturally out of the older +nature-philosophies, just as in our own day metaphysics and science have +both been driven back upon the theory of knowledge and psychology. It +should not be necessary to remind Hellenists that ‘Know +thyself’ passed for the supreme word of wisdom in the classical +period, or that Heracleitus revealed his method in the words ‘I +searched myself’.</p> + +<p>We shall come presently to certain parts of our modern heritage which +are not Greek either by origin or by affinity. These will not be found +in Euripides or Plato any more than in Herodotus or Sophocles. But some +developments of religion which our Hellenists particularly dislike, and +are therefore anxious to disclaim as alien to Greek thought and +practice, such as asceticism, sacramental magic, religious persecution, +and timid reliance on authority, are maladies of the Greek +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> spirit, and +came into the Church from Hellenistic and not from Jewish sources. It +was Cleanthes who wished to treat Aristarchus as the Church treated +Galileo, for anticipating Galileo’s discovery. It was Plutarch, or +rather his revered father, who said, ‘You seem to me to be +handling a very great and dangerous subject, or rather to be raising +questions which ought not to be raised at all, when you question the +opinion we hold about the gods, and ask reasons and proofs for +everything. The ancient and ancestral faith is enough; and if on one +point its fixed and traditional character be disturbed, it will be +undermined and no one will trust it’. It is true that Celsus +accused the Christians of saying, ‘Do not inquire; only +believe.’ But this was not the attitude of Clement and Origen, +still less of that most courageous pioneer St. Paul; it was rather the +attitude of the average devout pagan. At this time the defence of +popular superstition was no longer a matter of mere policy but of +heartfelt need. Marcus Aurelius was a great immolator of white cows. The +Christians were disliked, not as superstitious, but as impious. +Alexander of Abunoteichos expelled ‘Christians and +Epicureans’ by name from his <i>séances</i>. Lucian is the Voltaire of +a credulous age. As for sacerdotal magic, Ovid explicitly ascribed the +<i>ex opere operato</i> doctrine to the Greeks.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Graecia principium moris fuit; illa nocentes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">impia lustratos ponere facta putat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">a nimium faciles, qui tristia crimina caedis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">fluminea tolli posse putatis aqua.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Christian Church was the last great creative achievement of the +classical culture. It is neither Asiatic nor mediaeval in its essential +character. It is not Asiatic; Christianity is the least Oriental of all +the great religions. The Semites either shook it off and reverted to a +Judaism purged of its Hellenic elements, or enrolled themselves with +fervour under the banner of Islam, which Westcott called ‘a +petrified Judaism’.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +Christian missions have had no success in any +Asiatic country. Nor is there anything specifically mediaeval about +Catholicism. It preserved the idea of Roman imperialism, after the +secular empire of the West had disappeared, and even kept the tradition +of the secular empire alive. It modelled all its machinery on the Roman +Empire, and consecrated the Roman claim to universal dominion, with the +Roman law of <i>maiestas</i> against all who disputed its authority. Even its +favourite penalty of the ‘avenging flames’ is borrowed from +the later Roman codes. It maintained the official language of antiquity, +and the imperial title of the autocrat who reigned on the Seven Hills. +Nor were the early Christians so anxious as is often supposed to +disclaim this continuity. At first, it is true, their apologetic was +directed to proving their continuity with Judaism; but Judaism ceased to +count for much after the destruction of the Holy City in <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 70, and +the second-century apologists appeal for toleration on the ground that +the best Greek philosophers taught very much the same as what Christians +believe. ‘We teach the same as the Greeks’, says Justin +Martyr, ‘though we alone are hated for what we teach.’ +‘Some among us’, says Tertullian, ‘who are versed in +ancient literature, have written books to prove that we have embraced no +tenets for which we have not the support of common and public +literature.’ ‘The teachings of Plato’, says Justin +again, ‘are not alien to those of Christ; and the same is true of +the Stoics.’ ‘Heracleitus and Socrates lived in accordance +with the divine Logos’, and should be reckoned as Christians. +Clement says that Plato wrote ‘by inspiration of God’. +Augustine, much later, finds that ‘only a few words and +phrases’ need be changed to bring Platonism into complete accord +with Christianity. The ethics of contemporary paganism, as Harnack +shows, with special reference to Porphyry, are almost identical with +those of the Christians of his day. They differ in many points from the +standards of 500 years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +earlier and from those of 1,500 years later, but +the divergences are neither racial nor credal. Catholic Christianity is +historically continuous with the old civilization, which indeed +continued to live in this region after its other traditions and customs +had been shattered. There are few other examples in history of so great +a difference between appearance and reality. Outwardly, the continuity +with Judaism seems to be unbroken, that with paganism to be broken. In +reality, the opposite is the fact.</p> + +<p>This most important truth has been obscured from many causes. The gap in +history made by our educational tradition has been already mentioned. +And our histories of the early Church are too often warped by an +unfortunate bias. Christianity has been judged at its best, paganism at +its worst. The rhetorical denunciations of writers like Seneca, Juvenal, +and Tacitus are taken at their face value, and few have remembered the +convention which obliged a satirist to be scathing, or the political +prejudice of the Stoics against the monarchy, or the non-representative +character of fashionable life in the capital. The modern Church +historian, as Mr. Benn says, has gathered his experience in a college +quadrangle or a cathedral close, and knows little enough about his own +country, next to nothing about what morality was in the Middle Ages, and +nothing at all about what it still is in many parts of Europe. In the +most recent books, however, there is a real desire to hold the scales +fairly, and Christianity has nothing to fear from an impartial +judgement.</p> + +<p>There is also an assumption, which we find even in such learned writers +as Harnack and Hatch, that the Hellenic element in Christianity is an +accretion which transformed the new religion from its original purity +and half-paganized Europe again. They would like to prove that +underneath Catholicism was a primitive Protestantism, which owed nothing +to Greece. The truth is that the Church was half Greek from the first, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +though, as I shall say presently, the original Gospel was not. St. Paul +was a Jew of the Dispersion, not of Palestine, and the Christianity to +which he was converted was the Christianity of Stephen, not of James the +Lord’s brother. His later epistles are steeped in the phraseology +of the Greek mysteries. The Epistle to the Hebrews and the Fourth Gospel +are unintelligible without some knowledge of Philo, whose theology is +more Greek than Jewish. In the conflict about the nature of the future +life, it was the Greek eschatology which prevailed over the Jewish. St. +Paul’s famous declaration, ‘We look not at the things which +are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are +seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal’, +is pure Platonism and quite alien to Jewish thought. Judaic Christianity +was a local affair, and had a very short life.</p> + +<p>Further, too much is made of the conflict between the official cults of +paganism and Christian public worship. It is forgotten how completely, +in Hellenistic times, religion and philosophy were fused. Without +under-estimating the simple piety which, especially in country +districts, still attached itself to the temples and their ritual, we may +say confidently that the vital religion of the empire was associated +with the mystery-religions and with the discipline of the +‘philosophic life’. It is in this region that the continuity +of Catholicism with Hellenism is mainly to be found. The philosophers at +this time were preachers, confessors, chaplains, and missionaries. The +clerical profession, in nearly all its activities, is directly descended +from the Hellenistic philosophers.</p> + +<p>This claim of continuity may seem paradoxical when we remember the +savage persecutions of the Christians by the imperial government. Of +these persecutions there were several causes. The empire, like all +empires of the same type, rested partly on religious support. Augustus +encouraged his court poets to advocate a revival of piety and sound +morals. A government<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +cannot inquire into religious conviction, but it +can enforce conformity and outward respect for the forms of worship as +‘by law established’. The Christians and Epicureans were +held guilty of the same political offence—‘atheism’. The +State had no quarrel with the mystery-religions, which were a private +matter, but open disrespect to the national deities was flat disloyalty. +The pagans could not understand why the Church would make no terms with +the fusion of religions (<span class='t' title='theokrasia'>θεοκρασια</span>) which seemed to them the +natural result of the fusion of nationalities. Apuleius makes Isis say, +when she reveals herself to Lucius, ‘cuius numen unicum multiformi +specie, ritu vario, nomine multiiugo totus veneratur orbis’; and +she then recounts her various names. This more than tolerant hospitality +of the spirit seemed to the mixed population of the empire the logical +recognition of the actual political situation, and those who +deliberately stood outside it were at least potentially enemies of +society. This was the real quarrel between the Church and the empire. It +is the old State religion which Augustine attacks, ridiculing the +innumerable Roman godlings whose names he perhaps found in Varro. It is +true that Plato, Euripides, and Xenophanes had attacked the official +mythology with hardly less asperity; but they did not escape censure, +and the Christian alienation from the Olympians was far more +fundamental.</p> + +<p>The pagan revival under the empire was rather like Neo-Catholicism in +France. It was patriotic, nationalistic, and conservative, rather than +strictly religious. Celsus, in his lost book against the Christians, +seems to have appealed to their patriotism, urging them to support their +country and its government in dangerous times. As the Church grew in +numbers and power, and the old traditions crumbled away, largely from +the fall in the birth-rate among the upper and middle classes, the +conservatives became more anxiously attached to their own culture, and +saw in Christianity a ‘shapeless darkness’ +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> which threatened +to extinguish ‘all the beautiful things in the world’. We +can partly sympathize with this alarm, though not with the foolish +policy which it inspired. The early persecutions were like Russian +‘pogroms’, instigated or connived at by the government as a +safety valve for popular discontent. For at this time the common people +hated the Christians, and half believed the monstrous stories about +them. The attacks were not continuous, and were half-hearted, very +unlike the systematic extermination of Jews and Protestants in Spain. At +Alexandria Hadrian found a money-loving population worshipping Christ +and Sarapis almost indifferently. A wrong impression is formed if we +picture to ourselves two sections of society engaged in constant war. +The first real war was the last, under Diocletian; it was to decide +whether paganism or Christianity was to be the state religion. However, +there is no doubt that the persecutions helped to seal the fate of the +old culture.</p> + +<p>Harnack traces three stages in the Hellenization of Christianity. +‘In the earliest Christian writings, apart from Paul, Luke, and +John’, he cannot find any considerable traces of Greek influence. +‘The real influx of Greek thought and life’ began about 130. +The exception is so important as to make this statement of little or no +value. After 130, he says, ‘the philosophy of Greece went straight +to the core of the new religion’. A century or so later, +‘Greek mysteries and Greek civilization in the whole range of its +development exercise their influence on the Church, but as yet not its +mythology and polytheism; these were still to come’. +‘Another century had to elapse before Hellenism as a whole and in +every phase of its development was established in the Church.’ The +process which he describes began, in fact, as soon as Christian +preachers used the Greek language, and was never so complete as he says. +The Logos-Christology, to which he justly attributes the greatest +importance, is already present in St. Paul’s epistles; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> the name +only is wanting; and the sharp contradiction which he finds between the +Christian idea of a revelation made through a person at a certain date, +and the Greek idea of an apprehension of timeless and changeless truth, +always open to individuals after the appropriate discipline, was faced +and in part overcome by the Greek Fathers. Harnack also regards +Gnosticism as an embodiment of the genuinely Greek view of revelation, +forgetting that orthodox Platonism was as hostile to Gnosticism as the +Church itself. In rejecting Gnosticism, the Church in fact decided for +genuine Hellenism against a corrupted and barbarized development of it. +On the other hand, there is no period at which we can speak of a +complete conquest of Christianity by Greek ideas. There was a large part +of the old tradition which perished with its defenders, who, obeying the +melancholy law which directs human survival, died out to make way for +immigrants and for the formerly submerged classes, the people with few +wants, who were indifferent to a culture which they had never been +allowed to share.</p> + +<p>One more cause of misunderstanding may be illustrated from the writings +of Matthew Arnold. He divides the human race into Hebraizers and +Hellenizers, and classifies the modern English and Americans as +Hebraizers. The fundamental maxim of Hebrew ethics, according to him, is +‘Walk by the light you have’; of Greek ethics, ‘Take +heed that the light which is in thee is not darkness’. The +Hebraizer is conscientious but unenlightened; the Hellenizer is +clear-headed but unscrupulous. Professor Santayana has lately noted the +same difference between the type of character developed by the Latin +nations and by the Anglo-Saxons. The Mediterranean civilization, older +and more sophisticated, is careful to get its values right; the northern +man is bent on doing something big, no matter what, and follows +Clough’s advice:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go! say not in thine heart, And what then, were it accomplished,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were the wild impulse allayed, what is the use and the good?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But Santayana does not make the mistake of regarding the Reformation as +a return to Palestinian Christianity. This was, indeed, the opinion of +the Reformers themselves; but all religious innovation seeks to base +itself on some old tradition. Christianity at first sought for its +credentials in Judaism, though the Jews saw very quickly that it +‘destroyed the Law’. The belief of the Reformers was +plausible; for they rejected just those parts of Catholicism which had +nothing to do with Palestine, but were taken over from the old Hellenic +or Hellenistic culture. But the residuum was less Jewish than Teutonic. +On one side, indeed, the Reformation was a return to Hellenism from +Romanism. Early Christian philosophy was mainly Platonic; early +Christian ethics (as exemplified especially in writers like Ambrose) +were mainly Stoical. There had been a considerable fusion of Plato and +the Stoa among the Neoplatonists, so that it was easy for the two to +flourish together. Augustine banished Stoical ethics from the Church, +and they were revived only at the Reformation. Calvinism is simply +baptized Stoicism; it is logically pantheistic, since it acknowledges +only one effective will in the universe. The creed of nineteenth-century +science is very similar. Puritanism was not at all like Judaism, in +spite of its fondness for the Old Testament; it was very like Stoicism. +The Reformation was a revolt against Latin theocracy and the hereditary +paganism of the Mediterranean peoples; it was not really a return to +pre-Hellenic Christianity. It sheltered the humanism of Erasmus and the +late-flowering English Renaissance, and Christian Platonism has nowhere +had a more flourishing record than in Protestant Britain.</p> + +<p>At the present time a more drastic revolt is in progress among the +<i>plebs urbana</i>, which does in truth threaten with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> destruction +‘what we owe to Greece’. The industrial revolution has +generated a new type of barbarism, with no roots in the past. For the +second time in the history of Western Europe, continuity is in danger of +being lost. A generation is growing up, not uneducated, but educated in +a system which has little connexion with European culture in its +historical development. The Classics are not taught; the Bible is not +taught; history is not taught to any effect. What is even more serious, +there are no social traditions. The modern townsman is <i>déraciné</i>: he +has forgotten the habits and sentiments of the village from which his +forefathers came. An unnatural and unhealthy mode of life, cut off from +the sweet and humanizing influences of nature, has produced an unnatural +and unhealthy mentality, to which we shall find no parallels in the +past. Its chief characteristic is profound secularity or materialism. +The typical town artisan has no religion and no superstitions; he has no +ideals beyond the visible and tangible world of the senses. This of +course opens an impassable gulf between him and Greek religion, and a +still wider gulf between him and Christianity. The attempts which are +occasionally made, especially in this country, to dress up the Labour +movement as a return to the Palestinian Gospel, are little short of +grotesque. The contrast is well summed up by Belfort Bax, in a passage +quoted by Professor Gardner. ‘According to Christianity, +regeneration must come from within. The ethics and religion of modern +socialism on the contrary look for regeneration from without, from +material conditions and a higher social life.’ Here the gauntlet +is thrown down to Christ and Plato alike.</p> + +<p>Quite logically the new spirit is in revolt against what it calls +intellectualism, which means the application of the dry light of reason +to the problems of human life. It wishes to substitute for reason what +some of its philosophers call instinct, but which should rather be +called sentiment and emotion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +There is no reconciliation between this +view of life and Hellenism. For science is the eldest and dearest child +of the Greek spirit. One of the great battles of the future will be +between science and its enemies. The misologists have numbers on their +side; but ‘Nature’, whom all the Greeks honoured and +trusted, will be justified in her children.</p> + +<p>The new spirit is especially bitter against the Stoical ethics, which as +we have seen were taken over, with the Platonic metaphysics, by +Christianity. Stoicism teaches men to venerate and obey natural law; to +accept with proud equanimity the misfortunes of life; to be beneficent, +but to inhibit the emotion of pity; to be self-reliant and +self-contained; to practise self-denial for the sake of self-conquest; +and to regard this life as a stern school of moral discipline. All this +is simply detestable to the new spirit, which is sentimental, +undisciplined, and hedonistic. It remembers the hardness of Puritanism, +and has no admiration for its virtues.</p> + +<p>It is often said that the modern man has entirely lost the Greek love of +beauty. This is, I think, untrue, and unjust to our present +civilization, unlovely as it undoubtedly is in many ways. It is curious +that modern critics of the Greeks have not called attention to the +<i>aesthetic</i> obtuseness which showed itself in the defective reaction of +the ancients against cruelty. It was not that they excluded beautiful +actions from the sphere of aesthetics; they never thought of separating +the beautiful from the good in this way. But they were not disgusted at +the torture of slaves, the exposure of new-born children, or the +massacre of the population of a revolted city. The same callousness +appears in the Italian cities at the Renaissance; Ezzelino was a +contemporary of the great architects and painters. I cannot avoid the +conclusion that it is connected in some obscure way with the artistic +creativeness of these two closely similar epochs. The extreme +sensibility to physical suffering which characterizes modern +civilization arose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +together with industrialism, and is most marked in +the most highly industrialized countries. It has synchronized with the +complete eclipse of spontaneous and unconscious artistic production, +which we deplore in our time. Evelyn, in the seventeenth century, was +still able to visit a prison in Paris to gratify his curiosity by seeing +a prisoner tortured, and though he did not stay to the end of the +exhibition he shows that his stomach was not easily turned. It is +certain that our repugnance to such sights is aesthetic rather than +moral, and probable that it is strongest in the lower social strata. +Several years ago I went to the first night of a rather foolish play +about ancient Rome, in which an early Christian is brought in to be very +mildly tortured on the stage. At the first crack of the whip my +neighbours sprang from their seats, crying, ‘Shame! Stop +that!’; and the scene had to be removed in subsequent +performances. The operatives in a certain factory stopped the engines +for an hour because they heard a cat mewing among the machinery. Having +with difficulty rescued the animal from being crushed they strangled it. +The explanation of this extreme susceptibleness must be left to +psychologists; but I am convinced that we have here a case of +transferred aesthetic sensibility. We can walk unmoved down the streets +of Plaistow, but we cannot bear to see a horse beaten. The Athenians set +up no Albert Memorials, but they tortured slave-girls in their +law-courts and sent their prisoners to work in the horrible galleries of +the Laureion silver-mines.</p> + +<p>This emergence of a new spirit, which seems to be almost independent of +all traditions, makes it difficult to estimate our present indebtedness +to Greece in matters of religion. It would be difficult even if the +industrial revolution had not taken place. The northern Europeans have +hardly yet attained to self-expression. Their religion is a mixture of +Greek, Latin, and Hebrew elements which refuse to be harmonized, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +which in this country sometimes clash with the ideal of a gentleman, +that lay religion of the English-speaking peoples, which has no longer +any connexion with heraldry or property in land. The English gentleman +is not a Greek any more than he is a Jew. His code makes Odysseus an +amusing rascal; Achilles a violent and sulky savage; and +Aristotle’s <span class='t' title='megalopsychos'>μεγαλοψυχος</span> (as has been said) is rather +like a nobleman in a novel by Disraeli, but not like any other sort of +gentleman. The Englishman is by nature religious; but Christianity in +its developed form is a Mediterranean religion; in all external features +it might have been very different if it had been first planted north of +the Alps. There is, therefore, a chronic confusion in Protestantism +which makes its conflicts with the Latin Church like the battles of +undisciplined barbarians against well-drilled troops.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, though it is so difficult to separate out the various +threads which make up the tangled skein of our modern religion, it may +be worth while to make the attempt to distinguish, first, those parts of +current Christianity which are not Greek, in the wide sense which I have +chosen for the word, and then those which, in the same sense, are Greek +by origin or affinity.</p> + +<p>Among those elements which are not Greek, the first place must be given +to the original Gospel, of which I have said nothing yet. Our records of +the Galilean ministry, contained in the three synoptic Gospels, were not +compiled till long after the events which they describe, and must not be +used uncritically. But in my opinion, at any rate, the substance of the +teaching of Christ comes out very clearly in these books. No Hellenic +influence can be traced in it; there is not even any sign of the +Hellenized Judaism which for us is represented by his contemporary +Philo. But neither is it possible to call the Gospel Jewish, except with +many qualifications. Christ came before his countrymen as a prophet; he +deliberately placed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +himself in the line of the prophetic tradition. +Like other prophets of his nation, he did not altogether eschew the +framework of apocalyptic which was at that time the natural mould for +prophecy. But he preached neither the popular nationalism, nor the +popular ecclesiasticism, nor the popular ethics. His countrymen rejected +him as soon as they understood him. The Gospel was, as St. Paul said, a +new creation. It is most significant that it at once introduced a new +ethical terminology. The Greek words which we translate love (or +charity), joy, peace, hope, humility, are no part of the stock-in-trade +of Greek moralists before Christ. Men do not coin new words for old +ideas. Taken as a whole the Gospel is profoundly original; and a +Christian can find strong evidence for his belief that in Christ a +revelation was made to humanity at large, in which the religion of the +Spirit, in its purest and most universal form, was for the first time +presented to mankind. This revelation has to a considerable extent +passed into the common consciousness of the civilized world; but its +implications in matters of conduct, individual, social, and +international, are still imperfectly understood and have never been +acted upon, except feebly and sporadically. It is a reproach to us that +the teaching of Christ must be regarded as only one of many elements +which make up what we call Christianity. The Quakers, as a body, seem to +me to come nearest to what a genuinely Christian society would be.</p> + +<p>Secondly, the Greeks escaped the evils of priestly government. The +Oriental type of theocracy, with which they were familiar in the Egypt +of the Pharaohs, was alien to their civilization. Their sacrifices were +for the most part of the genial type, a communion-meal with the god. But +even in Greece we must remember the gloomy chthonian rites, and the +degradations of Orphism mentioned by Plato in the <i>Republic</i>. +‘They persuade not only individuals but whole cities that +expiations and atonements for sin may be made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> by sacrifices and +amusements which fill a vacant hour, and are equally at the service of +the living and of the dead; the latter sort they call mysteries, and +they redeem us from the pains of hell, but if we neglect them no one +knows what awaits us.’ This exploitation of sacramentalism was +common enough in Greece; but the characteristic Caesaro-Papism of +Byzantium and modern imperialism was wholly foreign to Hellenism. It was +introduced by Constantine as part of the Orientalizing of the empire +begun by Diocletian. As Seeley says, ‘Constantine purchased an +indefeasible title by a charter. He gave certain liberties and received +in return passive obedience. He gained a sanction for the Oriental +theory of government; in return he accepted the law of the Church. He +became irresponsible to his subjects on condition of becoming +responsible to Christ.’</p> + +<p>The Greeks never had a book-religion, in the sense in which Judaism +became, and Islam always was, a book-religion. But they were in some +danger of treating Homer and Hesiod as inspired scriptures. To us it is +plain that a long religious history lies behind Homer, and that the +treatment of the gods in Epic poetry proves that they had almost ceased +to be the objects of religious feeling. Some of them are even comic +characters, like the devil in Scottish folklore. To turn these poems +into sacred literature was to court the ridicule of the Christians. But +Homer was never supposed to contain ‘the faith once delivered to +the saints’; no religion of authority could be built upon him, and +Greek speculation remained far more unfettered than the thought of +Christendom has been until our own day.</p> + +<p>Those who have observed the actual state of Christianity in +Mediterranean countries cannot lay much stress on the difference between +Christian monotheism and pagan polytheism. The early Church fought +against the tendency to interpose objects of worship between God and +man; but Mariolatry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +came in through a loophole, and the worship of the +masses in Roman Catholic countries is far more pagan than the +service-books. In the imagination of many simple Catholics, Jesus, Mary, +and Joseph are the chief potentates in their Olympus.</p> + +<p>The doctrine of the creation of the world in time, which was denied by +most pagan thinkers and affirmed by most Christian divines, belongs to +philosophy rather than to religion. The disbelief in the pre-existence +of the soul, a doctrine which for Greek thought stands or falls with the +belief in survival after death, is more important, and may be partly +attributable to Jewish influence. But pre-existence does not seem to +have been believed by the majority of Greeks, and in fact almost +disappears from Greek thought between Plato and the Neoplatonists. It is +possible that the Pythagorean and Platonic doctrine may still have a +future.</p> + +<p>There are some who will insist that these differences are insignificant +by the side of the fact that Christianity was the idealistic side of a +revolt of the proletariat against the whole social order of the time. +This notion, which made Christ ‘le bon sans-culotte’, has +again become popular lately; some have even compared the early +Christians with Bolsheviks. It is a fair question to ask at what period +this was even approximately true. Christ and his apostles belonged to +the prosperous peasantry of Galilee, a well-educated and comfortable +middle class. The domestic slaves of wealthy Romans, who embraced the +new faith in large numbers, were legally defenceless, but by no means +miserable or degraded. After the second century the comparison of the +Christians to modern revolutionists becomes too absurd for discussion. +There is a good deal of rhetorical declamation about riches and poverty +in the Christian Fathers; but unfortunately the Church seems to have +done very little to protest against the crying economic injustices of +the fourth and fifth centuries. From first to last there was nothing of +the ‘Spartacus’ movement about the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> Catholic Church. As soon +as the persecutions ceased, the bishops took their place naturally among +the nobility.</p> + +<p>When we turn to the obligations of modern religion to Greece, it is +difficult to know where to begin.</p> + +<p>The conception of philosophy as an <i>ars vivendi</i> is characteristically +Greek. Nothing can be further from the truth than to call the Greeks +‘intellectualists’ in the disparaging sense in which the +word is now often used. The object of philosophy was to teach a man to +live well, and with that object to think rightly about God, the world, +and himself. This close union between metaphysics, morals, and religion +has remained as a permanent possession of the modern world. Every +philosopher is now expected to show the bearing of his system on +morality and religion, and the criticism is often justified that however +bold the speculations of the thinker, he is careful, when he comes to +conduct, to be conventional enough. The Hellenistic combination of +Platonic metaphysics with Stoic ethics is still the dominant type of +Christian religious philosophy. It is curious to observe how competing +tendencies in these systems—the praise of isolated detachment and of +active social sympathy—have continued to struggle against each other +within the Christian Church.</p> + +<p>The place of asceticism in religion is so important, and so much has +been written rather unintelligently about the contrast between Hellenism +and Christianity in this matter, that I propose to deal with it, briefly +indeed, but with a little more detail than a strict attention to +proportion would justify. It has often been assumed that a nation of +athletes, who made heroes of Heracles and Theseus, Achilles and Hector, +could have had nothing but contempt for the ascetic ideal. But in truth +asceticism has a continuous history within Hellenism. Even Homer knows +of the priests of chilly Dodona, the Selli, whose bare feet are +unwashed, and who sleep on the ground. This is probably not, as +Wilamowitz-Moellendorff thinks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +a description of savage life, but of an +ascetic school of prophets. For the fastdays which introduced the +Thesmophoria were observed by the Athenian matrons in the same way; they +went unshod and sat on the bare earth; and we may compare the +Nudipedalia, ordered by the Romans in time of dearth and mentioned by +Petronius and Tertullian. Prophets and prophetesses fasted at Miletus, +Colophon, and other places. National fasts were ordered in times of +calamity or danger, and Tarentum kept a yearly fast of thankfulness for +deliverance from a siege. The flagellation of boys at Sparta hardly +comes into account, being probably a substitute for human sacrifice; but +the continuance of the cruel rite till nearly the end of antiquity +causes surprise. The worship of Dionysus Zagreus in Thrace was +accompanied by ascetic practices before Pythagoras. Vegetarianism, which +has always played an important part in the ascetic life, was obligatory +on all Pythagoreans; but in this school there was another motive besides +the desire to mortify the flesh. Those who believe in the transmigration +of souls into the bodies of animals must regard flesh-eating as little +better than cannibalism. The Pythagorean and the Orphic rules of life +were well known throughout antiquity, and were probably obeyed by large +numbers. The rule of continence was far less strict than in the Catholic +‘religious’ life; but Empedocles, according to Hippolytus, +advised abstinence from marriage and procreation, and the tendency to +regard celibacy as part of the ‘philosophic life’ increased +steadily. The Cynic Antisthenes is quoted by Clement of Alexandria as +having expressed a wish to ‘shoot Aphrodite, who has ruined so +many virtuous women’. But the asceticism of the early Cynics and +of some Stoics was based not on self-devotion and spirituality but on +the desire for independence, and often took repulsive forms. Of some +among them it may be said that they did not object to sensual pleasure, +they only objected to having to pay for it. Desire for self-sufficiency +is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +always part of asceticism, but in the Christian saints it has been a +small part. The Greeks who practised it were from first to last too +anxious to be invulnerable; this was the main attraction of the +philosophic life from the time of Antisthenes, and it remained the main +attraction to the end. But Cynicism and Stoicism (which tend to run +together) became gentler, more humane, and more spiritual under the +Roman empire. Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius often seem to be +half Christian. Direct influence of Christian ethics at this early +period is perhaps unlikely; it is enough to suppose that the spirit of +the age affected in a similar way all creeds and denominations. +Self-mortification tended to assume more and more violent forms, till it +culminated in the strange aberrations of Egyptian eremitism. It is +impossible to regard these as either Greek or Christian; they indicate a +pathological state of society, which can be partly but not entirely +accounted for by the conditions of the time. After a few centuries a far +more wholesome type of monachism supplanted the hermits; the anchorites +of the Middle Ages retained the solitary life, but were very unlike the +crazy savages of the Thebaid. In modern times, those who have been most +under the Greek spirit have generally lived with austere simplicity, but +without any of the violent self-discipline which is said to be still +practised by some devout Catholics. The assiduous practice of +self-mastery and the most sparing indulgence in the pleasures of sense +are the ‘philosophic life’ which the Greek spirit recommends +as the highest. The best Greeks would blame the life of an English +clergyman, professor, or philosopher as too self-indulgent; we often +forget how frugally and hardily the Greeks lived at all times. But here +we have to consider the differences of climate, and the apparent +necessity of a rather generous diet for the Nordic race.</p> + +<p>The influence of the Greek mysteries upon Christianity is a keenly +debated question, in which passion and prejudice play +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> too large a part. +The information necessary for forming a judgement has been much enlarged +by recent discoveries in Egypt and elsewhere, and, as usually happens, +the importance of the new facts has been sometimes exaggerated. +Protestant theology has on the whole minimized the influence of the +mysteries, and has post-dated it, from an unwillingness to allow that +there was already a strong Catholic element in the Christianity of the +first century. Orthodox Catholicism has ignored it from different but +equally obvious motives. Modernist Catholicism has in my opinion +antedated the irruption of crude sacramentalism into the Church, and has +greatly overstated its importance in the religion of the first-century +Christians. This school practically denies anything more than a +half-accidental continuity between the preaching of the historical +Christ, whom they strangely suppose to have been a mere apocalyptist, +one of the many Messiahs or Mahdis who arose at this period in +Palestine, and the Catholic Church, which according to them belonged to +the same type of religion as the worship of Isis and Mithra. Another +bone of contention is the value of the mystery-religions of Greece. The +very able German scholars who have written on the subject, such as +Reitzenstein and still more Rohde, seem to me much too unsympathetic in +their treatment of the mystery-cults. Lastly, some competent critics +have lately urged that this side of Christianity owed more to +Judaism—Hellenized Judaism, of course—than has been hitherto supposed.</p> + +<p>Plato in the <i>Phaedo</i> says that ‘those who established our +mysteries declare that all who come to Hades uninitiated will lie in the +mud; while he who has been purified and initiated will dwell with the +gods’. For, as they say in the mysteries, ‘Many are the +thyrsus-bearers, but few are the inspired’. This sacramentalism +was not unchallenged, as we have already seen from Plato himself. +Diogenes is said to have asked whether the robber Pataecion was better +off in the other world than the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +hero Epaminondas, because the former +had been initiated, and the latter had not. But Orphism, though liable +to degradation, purified and elevated the old Bacchic rites. As Miss +Harrison says, the Bacchanals hoped to attain unity with God by +intoxication, the Orphics by abstinence. The way to salvation was now +through ‘holiness’ (<span class='t' title='hosiotês'>ὁσιοτης</span>). To the initiated the +assurance was given, ‘Happy and blessed one! Thou shalt be a god +instead of a mortal.’ To be a god meant for a Greek simply to be +immortal; the Orphic saint was delivered from the painful cycle of +recurring births and deaths. And Orphic purity was mainly, though not +entirely, the result of moral discipline. Cumont says that the +mystery-cults brought with them two new things—mysterious means of +purification by which they proposed to cleanse away the defilements of +the soul, and the assurance that an immortality of bliss would be the +reward of piety. The truth, says Mr. H. A. Kennedy, was presented to +them in the guise of divine revelations, esoteric doctrines to be +carefully concealed from the gaze of the profane, doctrines which placed +in their hands a powerful apparatus for gaining deliverance from the +assaults of malicious demonic influences, and above all for overcoming +the relentless tyranny of fate. This demonology was believed everywhere +under the Roman empire, the period of which Mr. Kennedy is thinking in +this sentence, and it has unfortunately left more traces in St. +Paul’s epistles than we like to allow. The formation of +brotherhoods for mystic worship was also an important step in the +development of Greek religion. These brotherhoods were cosmopolitan, and +seem to have flourished especially at great seaports. They were +thoroughly popular, drawing most of their support from the lower +classes, and within them national and social distinctions were ignored. +Their ultimate aim cannot be summed up better than in Mr. +Kennedy’s words—‘to raise the soul above the transiency of +perishable matter through actual union with the Divine’. It has +been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +usual to distinguish between the dignified and officially +recognized mysteries, like those of Eleusis, and the independent +voluntary associations, some of which became important. But there was +probably no essential difference between them. In neither case was there +much definite teaching; the aim, as Aristotle says, was to produce a +certain emotional state (<span class='t' title='ou mathein ti dein alla pathein'>ου μαθειν τι δειν αλλα παθειν</span>). A +passion-play was enacted amid the most impressive surroundings, and we +need not doubt that the moral effect was beneficial and sometimes +profound. When the Egyptian mysteries of Isis and Osiris were fused with +the Hellenic, a type of worship was evolved which was startlingly like +Christianity. A famous Egyptian text contains the promise: ‘As +truly as Osiris lives, shall he [the worshipper] live; as truly as +Osiris is not dead, shall he not die.’ The thanksgiving to Isis at +the end of the <i>Metamorphoses</i> of Apuleius is very beautiful in itself, +though it is an odd termination of a licentious novel. The Hermetic +literature also contains doctrine of a markedly Johannine type, as +notably in a prayer to Isis: ‘Glorify me, as I have glorified the +name of thy son Horus.’ I agree with those critics (Cumont, +Zielinski, and others) who attach the ‘higher’ Hermetic +teaching to genuinely Hellenic sources. But it is not necessary to +ascribe all the higher teaching to Greece and the lower to Egypt.</p> + +<p>Much of St. Paul’s theology belongs to the same circle of ideas as +these mysteries. Especially important is the psychology which divides +human nature into spirit, soul, and body, spirit being the divine +element into which those who are saved are transformed by the +‘knowledge of God’. This knowledge is a supernatural gift, +which (in the <i>Poimandres</i>) confers ‘deification’. St. Paul +usually prefers ‘Pneuma’ as the name of this highest part of +human nature; in the Hermetic literature it is not easy to distinguish +between Pneuma and Nous, which holds exactly the same place in +Neoplatonism. The notion of salvation as consisting in the knowledge of +God<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +is not infrequent in St. Paul; compare, for example, 1 Cor. xiii. +12 and a still more important passage, Phil. ii. 8-10. This knowledge +was partly communicated by visions and revelations, to which St. Paul +attributed some importance; but on the whole he is consistent in +treating knowledge as the crown and consummation of faith. The pneumatic +transformation of the personality is the centre of St. Paul’s +eschatology. ‘Though our outward man perish, our inward man is +renewed day by day.’ The ‘spiritual body’ is the +vehicle of the transformed personality; for ‘flesh and blood +cannot inherit the kingdom of God’. The expression ‘to be +born again’ is common in the mystery literature.</p> + +<p>It would be easy to find many other parallels in St. Paul’s +epistles, in the Johannine books which are the best commentary upon +them, and in the theology of the Greek Fathers, which prove the close +connexion of early Christianity with the mystery-religions of the +empire. Twenty years ago it might have been worth while to draw out +these resemblances in greater detail, even in so summary a survey as +this. But at present the tendency is, if not to over-estimate the debt +of the Christian religion to Hellenistic thought and worship, at any +rate to ignore the great difference between the higher elements in the +mystery-religions, which the new faith could gladly and readily +assimilate, and the lower type, the theosophy, magic, and theurgy, which +was not in the line of Hellenic development, and is not to be found in +the New Testament. Wendland, always a judicious critic, has said very +truly that St. Paul stands to the mystery-religions as Plato to Orphism; +they are not the centre of his religious life, but they gave him +effective forms of expression for his religious experience. Or, as +Weinel says, ‘St. Paul’s doctrine of the Spirit and of +Christ is not an imitation of mystery-doctrine, but inmost personal +experience metaphysically interpreted after the manner of his +time.’ Writers like Loisy, who say that for St. Paul Jesus +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> was +‘a Saviour God, after the manner of Osiris, Attis, or +Mithra’, and who proceed to draw out obvious parallels between the +sufferings, death, and resurrection of these mythological personages and +the gospels of the Christian Church, surely forget that St. Paul was a +Jew, and that there are some transformations of which the religious mind +is incapable. He never speaks of Christ as a ‘Saviour God’. +Even more perverse are the arguments which are used to prove that the +centre of St. Paul’s religion was a gross and materialistic +sacramental magic. The apostle, whose antipathy to ritual in every shape +is stamped upon all his writings, who thanks God that he baptized very +few of the Corinthians, who declares that ‘Christ sent him not to +baptize but to preach the Gospel’, is accused of regarding baptism +as ‘an <i>opus operatum</i> which secures a man’s admission into +the kingdom apart from the character of his future conduct’. And +yet in the Epistle to the Romans, as Weinel says, ‘baptism only +once enters his mind, and the Lord’s Supper not even once’. +Baptism for him is no <i>opus operatum</i>, but a ceremony of social +significance, a symbol conditioning a deeper experience of divine grace, +already embraced by faith. These same critics proceed to illustrate St. +Paul’s doctrine of the Lord’s Supper by references to the +religion of the Aztecs and other barbarians. But it is hardly worth +while to argue with those who suppose that a man with St. Paul’s +upbringing and culture could have dallied with the notion of +‘eating a god’. The ‘table of the Lord’ is the +table at which the Lord is the spiritual host, not the table on which +his flesh is placed. Does any one suppose that ‘the table of +demons’ which is contrasted with the ‘table of the +Lord’ is the table at which demons are eaten? Demons had no +bodies, as we learn from the <span class='t' title='ouk eimi daimonion asômaton'>ουκ ειμι δαιμονιον ασωματον</span> of a +well-known passage in a New Testament manuscript.</p> + +<p>Crude sacramentalism certainly came in later. Its parentage +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> may be +traced, if we will, to those mystery-mongers whom Plato mentions with +disapproval. If Hellenism is the name of a way of thinking, this form of +religion is not healthy Hellenism; that it was held by many Hellenes +cannot be denied.</p> + +<p>The biblical doctrine of the Fall of Man, which the Hebrews would never +have evolved for themselves, remained an otiose dogma in Jewish +religion. It was revivified in Christianity under Greek influence. Man, +as Empedocles and others had taught, was ‘an exile and vagabond +from God’; his body was his tomb; he is clothed in ‘an alien +garment of flesh’. He is in a fallen state and needs redemption. +Hellenism had become a religion of redemption; the empire was quite +ready to accept this part of Christian doctrine. The sin of Adam became +the first scene in the great drama of humanity, which led up to the +Atonement. At the same time the whole process was never mere history; +its deepest meaning was enacted in the life-story of each individual. +Greek thought gave this turn to dogmas which for a Jew would have been a +flat historical recital. In modern times the earlier scenes in the +story, at any rate, are looked upon as little more than the +dramatization of the normal experience of a human soul. But Greek +thought, while it remained true to type, never took sin so tragically as +Christianity has done. The struggle against evil has become sterner than +it ever was for the Greeks. It must, however, be remembered that the +large majority of professing Christians do not trouble themselves much +about their sins, and that the best of the Greeks were thoroughly in +earnest in seeking to amend their lives.</p> + +<p>Redemption was brought to earth by a Redeemer who was both God and Man. +This again was in accordance with Greek ideas. The Mediator between God +and Man must be fully divine, since an intermediate Being would be in +touch with neither side. The victory of Athanasius was in no sense a +defeat for Hellenism. The only difficulty for a Greek thinker was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> that +an Incarnate God ought to be impassible. This was a puzzle only for +philosophers; popular religion saw no difficulty in a <i>Christus +patiens</i>. The doctrine of the Logos brought Christianity into direct +affinity with both Platonism and Stoicism, and the Second Person of the +Trinity was invested with the same attributes as the Nous of the +Neoplatonists. But the attempts to equate the Trinity with the three +divine hypostases of Plotinus was no more successful than the later +attempt of Hegel to set the Trinity in the framework of his philosophy.</p> + +<p>The subject of eschatology is so vast that it is hopeless to deal with +it, even in the most summary fashion, in one paragraph. It is usually +said that the resurrection of the body is a Jewish doctrine, the +immortality of the soul a Greek doctrine. But the Jews were very slow to +bring the idea of a future life into their living faith; to this day it +does not seem to be of much importance in Judaism. Some form of +Millenarianism—a reign of the saints on earth—would seem to be the +natural form for Jewish hopes to take. This belief, which was the +earliest mould into which the treasure of the new revelation was poured, +has never quite disappeared from the Church, and in times of excitement +and upheaval it tends to reassert itself. The maturest Greek philosophy +regards eternity as the divine mode of existence, while mortals are +born, live, and die in time. Man is a microcosm, in touch with every +rung of the ladder of existence; and he is potentially a +‘participator’ in the divine mode of existence, which he can +make his own by living, so far as may be, in detachment from the vain +shadows and perishable goods of earth. That this conception of +immortality has had a great influence upon Christian thought and +practice needs no demonstration. It is and always has been the religion +of the mystic. But the Orphic tradition, with its pictures of purgatory +and of eternal bliss and torment, has on the whole dominated the other +two in popular Christian belief. It has been stripped of its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +accessories—the belief in reincarnation and the transmigration of +souls, doctrines which maintain a somewhat uneasy existence within the +scheme of the Neoplatonists. The picture of future retribution is even +more terrifying without them. Both the philosophical and the popular +beliefs about the other world are far more Greek than Jewish; but the +attempt to hold these very discrepant beliefs together has reduced +Christian eschatology to extreme confusion, and many Christians have +given up the attempt to formulate any theories about what are called the +four last things. On such a mysterious subject, definiteness is neither +to be expected nor desired. The original Gospel does not encourage the +natural curiosity of man to know his future fate; and the three types of +eschatology which we have described have all their value as representing +different aspects of religious faith and hope. We must after all confess +the truth of St. Paul’s words, that ‘eye hath not seen, nor +ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive, +the things that God hath prepared for them that love him’. The +same apostle reminds us that ‘now we see through a mirror, in +riddles, and know only in part’; the face to face vision, and the +knowledge which unites the knower and the known, may be ours when we +have finished our course. In these words, which recall Plato’s +famous myth of the Cave, St. Paul is fundamentally at one with the +Platonists; and it may well be that it is by this path that our +contemporaries may recover that belief in eternal life which is at +present burning very dimly among us.</p> + +<p>In conclusion, what has the religion of the Greeks to teach us that we +are most in danger of forgetting? In a word, it is the faith that Truth +is our friend, and that the knowledge of Truth is not beyond our reach. +Faith in honest seeking (<span class='t' title='zêtêsis'>ζητησις</span>) is at the heart of the Greek +view of life. ‘Those who would rightly judge of truth’, says +Aristotle, ‘must be arbitrators, not litigants’. +‘Happy is he who has learnt the value of research’ +(<span class='t' title='historia'>ἱστορια</span>), says Euripides in a fragment. Curiosity, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> as the Greeks knew +and the Middle Ages knew not, is a virtue, not a vice. Nature, for +Plato, is God’s vicegerent and revealer, the Soul of the universe. +Human nature is the same nature as the divine; no one has proclaimed +this more strongly. Nature is for us; chaos and ‘necessity’ +are the enemy. The divorce between religion and humanism began, it must +be admitted, under Plato’s successors, who unhappily were +indifferent to natural science, and did not even follow the best light +that was to be had in physical knowledge. In the Dark Ages, when the +link with Greece was broken, the separation became absolute. The +luxuriant mythology of the early Greeks was not unscientific. In the +absence of knowledge gaps were filled up by the imagination, and the +‘method of trial and error’. The dramatic fancy which +creates myths is the raw material of both poetry and science. Of course +religious myths may come to be a bar to progress in science; they do so +when, in a rationalizing age, the question comes to be one of fact or +fiction. It is a mistake to suppose that the faith of a +‘post-rational’ age, to use a phrase of Santayana, can be +the same as that of an unscientific age, even when it uses the same +formulas. The Greek spirit itself is now calling us away from some of +the vestments of Greek tradition. The choice before us is between a +‘post-rational’ traditionalism, fundamentally sceptical, +pragmatistic, and intellectually dishonest, and a trust in reason which +rests really on faith in the divine Logos, the self-revealing soul of +the universe. It is the belief of the present writer that the +unflinching eye and the open mind will bring us again to the feet of +Christ, to whom Greece, with her long tradition of free and fearless +inquiry, became a speedy and willing captive, bringing her manifold +treasures to Him, in the well-grounded confidence that He was not come +to destroy but to fulfil.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>W. R. Inge.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PHILOSOPHY" id="PHILOSOPHY"></a>PHILOSOPHY</h2> + +<p>If we consider the philosophical tendencies of the day, we shall +probably observe first of all that the artificial wall of partition +between philosophy and science—and especially mathematical science—is +beginning to wear very thin. On the other hand, we cannot fail to notice +a reaction against what is called intellectualism. This reaction takes +many forms, the most characteristic perhaps of which is a renewed +interest in Mysticism. It leads also to a strong insistence on the +practical aspect of philosophic thought, and to a view of its bearing on +what had been regarded as primarily theoretical issues, which is known +by the rather unfortunate name of Pragmatism. Now it is just on these +points that we have most to learn from the Greeks, and Greek philosophy +is therefore of special importance for us at the present time. At its +best, it was never divorced from science, while it found a way of +reconciling itself both with the interests of the practical life and +with mysticism without in any way abating the claims of the intellect. +It is solely from these points of view that it is proposed to regard +Greek philosophy here. It would be futile to attempt a summary of the +whole subject in the space available, and such a summary would have no +value. Many things will therefore be passed over in silence which are +important in themselves and would have to be fully treated in a complete +account. All that can be done now is to indicate the points at which +Greek philosophy seems to touch our actual problems. It will be seen +that here, as elsewhere, ‘all history is contemporary +history’, and that the present can only be understood in the light +of the past.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +The word ‘philosophy’ is Greek and so is the thing it +denotes. Unless we are to use the term in so wide a sense as to empty it +of all special meaning, there is no evidence that philosophy has ever +come into existence anywhere except under Greek influences. In +particular, mystical speculation based on religious experience is not +itself philosophy, though it has often influenced philosophy profoundly, +and for this reason the pantheism of the <i>Upanishads</i> cannot be called +philosophical. It is true that there is an Indian philosophy, and indeed +the Hindus are the only ancient people besides the Greeks who ever had +one, but Indian science was demonstrably borrowed from Greece after the +conquest of Alexander, and there is every reason to believe that those +Indian systems which can be regarded as genuinely philosophical are a +good deal more recent still. On the other hand, the earliest +authenticated instance of a Greek thinker coming under Indian influence +is that of Pyrrho (326 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), and what he brought back from the East +was rather the ideal of quietism than any definite philosophical +doctrine. The barrier of language was sufficient to prevent any +intercourse on important subjects, for neither the Greeks nor the +Indians cared to learn any language but their own. Of course philosophy +may culminate in theology, and the best Greek philosophy certainly does +so, but it begins with science and not with religion.</p> + +<p>By philosophy the Greeks meant a serious endeavour to understand the +world and man, having for its chief aim the discovery of the right way +of life and the conversion of people to it. It would not, however, be +true to say that the word had always borne this special sense. At any +rate the corresponding verb (<span class='t' title='philosophein'>φιλοσοφειν</span>) had at first a far +wider range. For instance, Herodotus (i. 30) makes Croesus say that +Solon had travelled far and wide ‘as a philosopher’ +(<span class='t' title='philosopheôn'>φιλοσοφεων</span>), +and it is clear from the context that this refers to +that love of travel for the sake of the ‘wonders’ to be seen +in strange lands which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +was so characteristic of the Ionian Greeks in +the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> That is made quite plain by the phrase +‘for the sake of sightseeing’ (<span class='t' title='theôriês heineken'>θεωριης ἑινεκεν</span>) +with which the word is coupled. Again, when Thucydides (ii. 40) makes +Pericles say of his fellow citizens ‘we follow philosophy without +loss of manliness’ (<span class='t' title='philosophoumen aneu malakias'>φιλοσοφουμεν ανευ μαλακιας</span>), it is +certainly not of philosophy in the special sense he is thinking. He is +only contrasting the culture of Athens with the somewhat effeminate +civilization of the Ionians in Asia Minor. Even in the next century, +Isocrates tried to revert to this wider sense of the word, and he +regularly uses it of the art of political journalism which he imparted +to his pupils.</p> + +<p>Tradition ascribes the first use of the term ‘philosophy’ in +the more restricted sense indicated above to Pythagoras of Samos, an +Ionian who founded a society for its cultivation in southern Italy in +the latter half of the sixth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> It is notoriously difficult +to make any positive statements about Pythagoras, seeing that he wrote +nothing; but it is safer on general grounds to ascribe the leading ideas +of the system to the master rather than to his followers. Moreover, this +particular tradition is confirmed by the fact, for which there is +sufficient evidence, that the name ‘philosophers’ originally +designated the Pythagoreans in a special way. For instance, we know that +Zeno of Elea (<i>c.</i> 450 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) wrote a book ‘Against the +Philosophers’, and in his mouth that can only mean ‘Against +the Pythagoreans’. Now the Pythagorean use of the term depends on +a certain way of regarding man, which there is good reason for ascribing +to Pythagoras himself. It has become more or less of a commonplace now, +but we must try to seize it in its original freshness if we wish to +understand the associations the word ‘philosophy’ came to +have for the Greeks. To state it briefly, it is the view that man is +something intermediate between God and ‘the other animals’ +(<span class='t' title='talla zôa'>ταλλα ζωα</span>). As compared with God, he is ‘mere +man’, liable to error and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +death (both of which are spoken of as specially <i>human</i>, +<span class='t' title='anthrôpina'>ανθρωπινα</span>); as compared with ‘the +other animals’, he is kindly and capable of civilization. The +Latin word <i>humanus</i> took over this double meaning, which is somewhat +arbitrarily marked in English by the spellings <i>human</i> and <i>humane</i>. Now +it is clear that, for a being subject to error and death, wisdom +(<span class='t' title='sophia'>σοφια</span>) in the full sense is impossible; that is for God +alone. On the other hand, man cannot be content, like ‘the other +animals’ to remain in ignorance. If he cannot be wise, he can at +least be ‘a lover of wisdom’, and it follows that his chief +end will be ‘assimilation to God so far as possible’ +(<span class='t' title='homoiôsis tô theô kata to dynaton'>ὁμοιωσις τω θεω κατα το δυνατον</span>), as Plato put it in the +<i>Theaetetus</i>. The mathematical studies of the Pythagoreans soon brought +them face to face with the idea of a constant approximation which never +reaches its goal. There is, then, sufficient ground for accepting the +tradition which makes Pythagoras the author of this special sense of the +word ‘philosophy’ and for connecting it with the division of +living creatures into God, men and ‘the other animals’. If +the later Pythagoreans went a step further and classified rational +animals into gods, men and ‘such as Pythagoras’, that was +due to the enthusiasm of discipleship, and is really a further +indication of the genuinely Pythagorean character of this whole range of +ideas. We may take it, then, that the word ‘philosophy’ had +acquired its special sense in southern Italy before the beginning of the +fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></p> + +<p>It is even more certain that this sense was well known at Athens, at +least in certain circles, not long after the middle of the fifth +century. To all appearance, this was the work of Socrates (470-399 +<span class='sc'>B.C</span>.). Whatever view may be taken of the philosophy of Socrates or of +its relation to that expounded in Plato’s earlier dialogues (a +point which need not be discussed here), it is at least not open to +question that he was personally intimate with the leading Pythagoreans +who had taken refuge at Thebes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +and at Phlius in the Peloponnesus when +their society came to be regarded as a danger to the state at Croton and +elsewhere in southern Italy. That happened about the middle of the fifth +century, and Socrates must have made the acquaintance of these men not +long after. At that time it would be quite natural for them to visit +Athens; but, after the beginning of the Peloponnesian War (431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), +all intercourse with them must have ceased. They were resident in enemy +states, and Socrates was fighting for his country. With the exception of +the brief interval of the Peace of Nicias (421 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), he can have seen +nothing of them for years. Nevertheless it is clear that they did not +forget him; for we must accept Plato’s statement in the <i>Phaedo</i> +that many of the most distinguished philosophers of the time came to +Athens to be with Socrates when he was put to death, and that those of +them who could not come were eager to hear a full account of what +happened. It is highly significant that, even before this, two young +disciples of the Pythagorean Philolaus, Simmias and Cebes, had come from +Thebes and attached themselves to Socrates. For that we have the +evidence of Xenophon as well as of Plato, and Xenophon’s statement +is of real value here; for it was just during these few years that he +himself associated with Socrates, though he saw him for the last time a +year or two before his trial and death. Whatever other inferences may be +drawn from these facts, they are sufficient to prove that Socrates had +become acquainted with some of the leading philosophers of the Greek +world before he was forty, and to make it highly probable that it was he +who introduced the word ‘philosophy’ in its Pythagorean +sense to the Athenians.</p> + +<p>So much for the word; we have next to ask how there came to be such a +thing as philosophy at all. It has been mentioned that Pythagoras was an +Ionian, and we should naturally expect to find that he brought at least +the beginnings of what he called philosophy from eastern Hellas. Now it +has been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +pointed out that Greek philosophy was based on science, and +science originated at Miletus on the mainland of Asia Minor nearly +opposite the island of Samos, which was the original home of Pythagoras. +The early Milesians were, in fact, men of science rather than +philosophers in the strict sense. The two things were not differentiated +yet, however, and the traditional account of the matter, according to +which Greek philosophy begins with Thales (<i>c.</i> 585 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), is after all +quite justified. The rudimentary mathematical science of which, as +explained elsewhere in this volume, he was the originator in fact led +him and his successors to ask certain questions about the ultimate +nature of reality, and these questions were the beginning of philosophy +on its theoretical side. It is true that the Milesians were unable to +give any but the crudest answers to these questions, and very likely +they did not realise their full importance. These early inquirers only +wanted to know what the world was made of and how it worked, but the +complete break with mythology and traditional views which they effected +cleared the way for everything that followed. It was no small thing that +they were able to discard the old doctrine of what were afterwards known +as the ‘elements’—Fire, Air, Earth, and Water—and to +regard all these as states of a single substance, which presented +different appearances according as it was more or less rarefied or +condensed. Moreover, Anaximander at least (<i>c.</i> 546 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), the +successor of Thales, shook himself free of the idea that the earth +required support of some kind to keep in its place. He held that it +swung free in space and that it remained where it was because there was +no reason for it to fall in one direction rather than another. In +general these early cosmologists saw that weight was not an inherent +quality of bodies and that it could not be used to explain anything. On +the contrary, weight was itself the thing to be explained. Anaximander +also noted the importance of rotary or vortex motion in the cosmical +scheme, and he inferred that there might be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> an indefinite number of +rotating systems in addition to that with which we are immediately +acquainted. He also made some very important observations of a +biological character, and he announced that man must be descended from +an animal of a different species. The young of most animals, he said, +can find their food at once, while that of the human species requires a +prolonged period of nursing. If, then, man had been originally such as +he is now, he could never have survived. All this, no doubt, is +rudimentary science rather than philosophy, but it was the beginning of +philosophy in this sense, that it completely transformed the traditional +view of the world, and made the raising of more ultimate problems +inevitable.</p> + +<p>This transformation was effected in complete independence of religion. +What we may call secularism was, in fact, characteristic of all eastern +Ionian science to the end. We must not be misled by the fact that +Anaximander called his innumerable worlds ‘gods’ and that +his successor Anaximenes spoke of Air as a ‘god’. These were +never the gods of any city and were never worshipped by any one, and +they did not therefore answer at all to what the ordinary Greek meant by +a god. The use of the term by the Milesians means rather that the place +once occupied by the gods of religion was now being taken by the great +fundamental phenomena of nature, and the later Greeks were quite right, +from their own point of view, in calling that atheism. Aristophanes +characterizes this way of speaking very accurately indeed in the +<i>Clouds</i> when he makes Strepsiades sum up the teaching he has received +in the words ‘Vortex has driven out Zeus and reigns in his +stead’, and when he makes Socrates swear by ‘Chaos, +Respiration and Air’. So too the Milesians spoke of the primary +substance as ‘ageless and deathless’, which is a Homeric +phrase used to mark the difference between gods and men, but this only +means that the emotion formerly attached to the divine was now being +transferred to the natural.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +The Milesians, then, had formed the conception of an eternal matter out +of which all things are produced and into which all things return, and +the conception of Matter belongs to philosophy rather than to science. +But besides this they had laid the foundations of geometry, and that led +in other hands to the formulation of the correlative conception of Limit +or Form. It is needless to enumerate here the Milesian and Pythagorean +contributions to plane geometry; it will be sufficient to remind the +reader that they covered most of the ground of <i>Euclid</i>, Books I, II, +IV, and VI, and probably also of Book III. In addition, Pythagoras +founded Arithmetic, that is, the scientific theory of numbers (<span class='t' title='arithmêtikê'>αριθμητικη</span>), +as opposed to the practical art of calculation (<span class='t' title='logistikê'>λογιστικη</span>). +We also know that he discovered the sphericity of the +earth, and the numerical ratios of the intervals between the concordant +notes of the octave. It is obvious that he was a scientific genius of +the first order, and it is also clear that his methods included those of +observation and experiment. The discovery of the earth’s spherical +shape was due to observation of eclipses, and that of the intervals of +the octave can only have been based on experiments with a stretched +string, though the actual experiments attributed by tradition to +Pythagoras are absurd. It was no doubt this last discovery that led him +to formulate his doctrine in the striking saying ‘Things are +numbers’, thus definitely giving the priority to the element of +form or limit instead of to the indeterminate matter of his +predecessors.</p> + +<p>Pythagoras further differed from his predecessors in one respect which +proved of vital moment. So far was he from ignoring religion, that he +founded a society in southern Italy which was primarily a religious +community. It is quite possible that he was influenced by the growth of +the Orphic societies which had begun to spread everywhere in the course +of the sixth century, but his religion differed from the Orphic +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> in many +ways. In particular, Apollo and not Dionysus was the chief god of the +Pythagoreans, and all our evidence points to the conclusion that +Pythagoras brought his religion, as he had brought his science, from +eastern Hellas, though rather from the islands of the Aegean than from +mainland Ionia. He was much influenced, we can still see, by certain +traditions of the temple of Delos, which had become the religious centre +of the Ionic world. There had, of course, been plenty of religious +speculation among the Greeks before Pythagoras, and it was of a type not +unlike that we find in India, though there are insuperable difficulties +in the way of assuming any Aegean influence on India or any Indian +influence on the Aegean at this date. It may be that the beginnings of +such ideas go back to the time when the Greeks and the Hindus were +living together, though it is still more likely that both the Greeks and +the Indians were affected by a movement originating in the north, which +brought to both of them a new view of the soul. The Delian legend of the +Hyperboreans may be thought to point in this direction. However that may +be, the main purpose of the religious observances practised by the +Orphics and Pythagoreans alike was to secure by means of +‘purifications’ (<span class='t' title='katharmoi'>καθαρμοι</span>) +the ransom (<span class='t' title='lysis'>λυσις</span>) +of the soul, which was regarded as a fallen god, from the +punishment of imprisonment in successive bodies. There is no reason to +suppose that Pythagoras displayed any particular originality in this +part of his teaching. It all depends on the doctrine of transmigration +or rebirth (<span class='t' title='palingenesia'>παλιγγενεσια</span>), which is often incorrectly +designated by the late and inaccurate term ‘metempsychosis’. +There is no doubt that Pythagoras taught this, and also the rule of +abstinence from animal flesh which is its natural corollary, but such +ideas had been well known in many parts of Greece before his time. The +real difficulty is to see the connexion between all this and his +scientific work. Here we are of course confined to inferences from what +we are told by later writers;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> but, if the doctrine which Plato makes +Socrates expound in the early part of the <i>Phaedo</i> is Pythagorean, as it +is generally supposed to be, we may say that what Pythagoras did was to +teach that, while the ordinary methods of purification were well enough +in their way, the best and truest purification for the soul was just +scientific study. It is only in some such way as this that we can +explain the religious note which is characteristic of all the best Greek +science. It involves the doctrine that the Theoretic Life is the highest +way of life for man, a belief still held by Plato and Aristotle, and to +which we shall have to return. We may note at once, however, that it is +not an ‘intellectualist’ ideal. There is no question of idle +contemplation; it is a strenuous way of life, the aim of which is the +soul’s salvation, and it gives rise to an eager desire to convert +other men. Just for that reason, the Pythagorean philosopher will take +part in practical life when the opportunity offers, and he will even +rule the state if called upon to do so. The Pythagorean society was a +proselytizing body from the first, and it tried to bring in all it could +reach, without distinction of nationality, social position, or sex (for +women played a great part in it from the first). It was precisely its +zeal for the reform of human life, and its attempt to set up a Rule of +the Saints in the cities of southern Italy that led to its unpopularity. +If the Pythagoreans had contented themselves with idle speculation, they +would not have been massacred or forced to take refuge in flight, a fate +which overtook them before the middle of the fifth century.</p> + +<p>It soon proved, however, that the Pythagorean doctrine in its entirety +was too high a one for its adherents, and a rift between Pythagorean +religion and Pythagorean science was inevitable. Those who were capable +of appreciating the scientific side of the movement would tend more and +more to neglect the religious rule which it prescribed, and we find +accordingly that before the end of the fifth century the leading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +Pythagoreans, the men whose names we know, are first of all men of +science, and more and more inclined to drop what they doubtless regarded +as the superstitious side of the doctrine. In the end they were absorbed +in the new philosophical schools which arose at Athens. The mass of the +faithful, on the other hand, took no interest in arithmetic, geometry, +music, and astronomy, and with them to follow Pythagoras meant to go +barefoot and to abstain from animal flesh and beans. These continued the +tradition even after scientific Pythagoreanism had become extinct as +such, and they were a favourite subject of ridicule with the comic poets +of the fourth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></p> + +<p>It is easy for us to see now that all this indicates a real weakness in +Pythagoreanism. Science and religion are not to be brought into union by +a simple process of juxtaposition. We do not know how far Pythagoras +himself was conscious of the ambiguity of his position; it would not be +surprising if he came to feel it towards the end of his life, and we +know for certain that he lived long enough to witness the beginnings of +the revolt against his society in Croton and elsewhere. It is for this +reason that he removed to Metapontum where he died, and where Cicero was +able to visit his tomb long afterwards. We shall see later what the weak +point in his system was, and we shall have to consider how the discord +he had left unresolved was ultimately overcome. For the present, it is +more important to note that he was the real founder both of science, and +of philosophy as we understand them now. It is specially true of science +that it is the first steps which are the most difficult, and Pythagoras +left a sufficient achievement in mathematics behind him for others to +elaborate. The Greeks took less than three centuries to complete the +edifice, and that was chiefly due to Pythagoras, who had laid the +foundations truly and well.</p> + +<p>We have now seen how the two great conceptions of Matter +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> and Form were +reached; the next problem Greek philosophy had to face was that of +Motion. At first the fact of movement had simply been taken for granted. +The Ionian tendency was to see motion everywhere; it was rest that had +to be explained, or rather the appearance of it. However, when the new +conception of an eternal matter began to be taken seriously, +difficulties made themselves felt at once. If reality was regarded as +continuous, it appeared that there was no room for anything else, not +even for empty space, which could only be identified with the unreal, +and it was easy to show that the unreal could not exist. But, if there +is no empty space, it seems impossible that there should be any motion, +and the world of which we suppose ourselves to be aware must be an +illusion. Such, briefly stated, was the position taken up by another +Ionian of southern Italy, Parmenides of Elea (<i>c.</i> 475 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), who had +begun as a Pythagorean, but had been led to apply the rigorous method of +reasoning introduced into geometry with such success by the Pythagoreans +to the old question of the nature of the world which had occupied the +Milesians. The remarkable thing about the earliest geometers is, in +fact, that they did not formulate the conception of Space, which seems +to us at the present day fundamental. They were able to avoid it because +they possessed the conception of Matter, and regarded Air as the normal +state of the material substratum. The confusion of air with empty space +is, of course, a natural one, though it may be considered surprising +that it should not have been detected by the founders of geometrical +science. Such failures to draw all the consequences from a new discovery +are common enough, however, in the history of scientific thought.</p> + +<p>Parmenides cleared up this ambiguity, not by affirming the existence of +empty space, but by denying the possibility of such a thing, even before +it had been asserted by any one. He saw that the Pythagoreans really +implied it, though they were quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> unconscious of the fact. He is +interesting to us as the first philosopher who thought of expounding his +system in verse. It was not a very happy thought, as the arguments in +which he deals do not readily lend themselves to this mode of +expression, and we may be thankful that none of his successors except +Empedocles followed his example. It has the very great inconvenience of +making it necessary to use different words for the same thing to suit +the exigencies of metre. And if there ever was an argument that demanded +precise statement, it was that of Parmenides. As it is, his poem has the +faults we should look for in a metrical version of Euclid. On the other +hand, Parmenides is the first philosopher of whom we have sufficient +remains to enable us to follow a continuous argument; for we have +nothing of Pythagoras at all, and only detached fragments of the rest. +We can see that he was ready to follow the argument wherever it might +lead. He took the conception of matter which had been elaborated by his +predecessors and he showed that, if it is to be taken seriously, it must +lead to the conclusion that reality is continuous, finite, and +spherical, with nothing outside it and no empty space within it. For +such a reality motion is impossible, and the world of the senses is +therefore an illusion. Of course that was not a result in which it was +possible for men to acquiesce for long, and historically speaking, the +Eleatic doctrine must be regarded as a <i>reductio ad absurdum</i> of earlier +speculation. There is no reason to believe, however, that Parmenides +himself meant it to be understood in this way. He believed firmly that +he had found the truth.</p> + +<p>Several attempts were made to escape the conclusions of Parmenides, and +they all start by abandoning the assumption of the homogeneity and +continuity of matter which had been implicit in the earlier systems, +though it was first brought to the light of day by Parmenides. Here +again the influence of contemporary science on philosophic thought is +clearly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +marked. Empedocles of Agrigentum (<i>c.</i> 460 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), the only +citizen of a Dorian state who finds a place in the early history of +science and philosophy, was the founder of the Sicilian school of +medicine, and it was probably his pre-occupation with that science that +led him to revive the old doctrine of Fire, Air, Earth, and Water, which +the Milesians had cast aside, but which lent itself readily to the +physiological theories of the day. He did not use the word afterwards +translated ‘elements’ (<span class='t' title='stoicheia'>στοιχεια</span>) for these. It +means literally ‘letters of the alphabet’, and appears to +have been first employed in this connexion by the Pythagoreans at a +later date, when they found it necessary to take account of the new +theory. Empedocles spoke of the ‘four roots’ of things, and +by this he meant to imply that these four forms of matter were equally +original and altogether disparate. That furnished at least a partial +answer to the arguments of Parmenides, which depended on the assumption +that matter was homogeneous. He also found it necessary to assume two +sources of motion or forces, as we might call them, though Empedocles +thought of them as substances, one of which tended to separate the +‘four roots’ and the other to combine them. These he called +Love and Strife, and he supposed the life of the world to take the form +of alternate cycles, in which one or the other prevailed in turn. In all +this he was plainly influenced by his physiological studies. He thinks +of the world as an animal organism subject to what are now called +anabolism and catabolism. The details of the theory make this quite +clear. A similar doctrine was taught by Anaxagoras (<i>c.</i> 460 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), who +came from Clazomenae in Asia Minor to Athens after the Persian Wars, and +was one of the teachers of Pericles. His doctrine of +‘seeds’, in which the traditional +‘opposites’—wet and dry, cold and hot—were combined in +different proportions, is rather more subtle than that of Empedocles, +and it is possible to see in it a curious anticipation of certain +features in modern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +chemistry. Anaxagoras too felt it necessary to +assume a force or source of motion, but he thought that one would +suffice to account for the rotation (<span class='t' title='perichôrêsis'>περιχωρησις</span>) to which he +attributed the formation of the world. He called that force Mind +(<span class='t' title='nous'>νους</span>), but his own description of it shows that he regarded it +as corporeal, though he thought it was something more tenuous and +unmixed than other bodies. There is little doubt that he selected the +term in order to mark the identity of the source of motion in the world +with that in the animal organism. That again is in accordance with the +scientific interests of the time. In his astronomical theories, however, +Anaxagoras showed himself a true eastern Ionian, and lagged far behind +the Pythagoreans. For him, as for the Ionians of the Aegean down to and +including Democritus, the earth was flat, and the eddy or vortex which +gave rise to the world was still rotation in a plane. A more satisfying +answer to Parmenides was the doctrine of Atomism, which frankly accepted +the existence of space, and asserted that it was just as real as body. +The first hint of such a solution was given by Melissus (<i>c.</i> 444 <span class="lc sc">B. +C.</span>), who was a Samian but a member of the Eleatic school. He said, +‘If things are a many, then each of them must be such as I have +shown the One to be.’ That was meant as a <i>reductio ad absurdum</i>; +but, when Leucippus of Miletus (<i>c.</i> 440 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), who had also studied in +the school of Elea, ventured to assert the existence of the Void, there +was no longer any reason for shirking the conclusion which Melissus had +stated only to show its impossibility. The atoms are, in fact, just the +continuous indivisible One of Parmenides multiplied <i>ad infinitum</i> in an +infinite empty space. On that side at least, the theory of body was now +complete, and the question asked by Thales was answered, and it is of +great interest to observe that this was brought about by the renewal of +intercourse between the Ionians of Italy and those of the Aegean, a +renewal which was made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> possible by the establishment of the Athenian +Empire. Nothing makes us feel the historical connexion more vividly than +the re-emergence of the names of Miletus and Samos after all these +years. There were, however, certain more fundamental problems which +Atomism could not solve, and which were first attacked at Athens itself. +So far, it will be noted, Athens has played no part at all in our story, +and in fact no more than two Athenians ever became philosophers of the +first rank. It is true that they were called Socrates and Plato, so the +exception is a considerable one. It was the foundation of the Athenian +Empire that made Athens the natural meeting-place of the most diverse +philosophical and scientific views. It was here that the east and west +of Hellas came together, and that the two streams of tradition became +one, with the result that a new tradition was started which, though +often interrupted for a time, continues to the present day.</p> + +<p>If we wish to understand the development of Greek philosophy, it is of +the first importance that we should realize the intellectual ferment +which existed at Athens in the great days of the Periclean age. It has +been mentioned already that Anaxagoras of Clazomenae had settled there, +and it was not long before his example was followed by others. In +particular, Zeno of Elea (<i>c.</i> 450 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), the favourite disciple of +Parmenides, had a considerable following at Athens. He made it his +business to champion the doctrine of his master by showing that those +who refused to accept it were obliged to give their assent to views +which were at least as repugnant to common sense, and in this way he +incidentally did much for mathematics and philosophy by raising the +difficulties of infinite divisibility and continuity in an acute form. +All that is something quite apart from the influence of the +‘sophists’ at a rather later date, though they too came both +from the east and from the west, and though they had been influenced by +the more strictly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +philosophical schools of these regions. It was into +this Athens that Socrates was born (470 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) about ten years after the +battle of Salamis, and he was naturally exposed to all these conflicting +influences, of which Plato has given us a vivid description in the +<i>Phaedo</i>, from his earliest youth. He cannot, in fact, be understood at +all unless this historical background is kept constantly in view. There +can be no reasonable doubt that at a very early age he attached himself +to Archelaus, an Athenian who had succeeded Anaxagoras, when that +philosopher had to leave Athens for Lampsacus. Ion of Chios, a +contemporary witness, said that Socrates had visited Asia Minor with +Archelaus, and that appears to refer to the siege of Samos, when +Socrates was under thirty. There is no reason whatever to doubt the +statement, which Plato makes more than once, that he had met Parmenides +and Zeno at a still earlier date. At any rate, the influence of Zeno on +the dialectic of Socrates is unmistakable. We may also take it that he +was familiar with all sorts of Orphic and Pythagorean sectaries. +Aeschines of Sphettos wrote a dialogue entitled <i>Telauges</i>, in which he +represented Socrates as rallying the extreme asceticism of the strict +followers of Pythagoras. So far, however, as we can form a picture of +him for ourselves, he was not the sort of man to become the disciple of +any one. He was a genuine Athenian in respect of what is called his +‘irony’, which implies a certain humorous reserve which kept +him from all extravagances, however interested he might be in the +extravagances of others. Nevertheless, while still quite a young man, he +had somehow acquired a reputation for ‘wisdom’, though he +himself disclaimed anything of the sort. He had also, it appears, +gathered round him a circle of ‘associates’ +(<span class='t' title='hetairoi'>ἑταιροι</span>). +The only direct evidence we have for these early days is the +<i>Clouds</i> of Aristophanes (423 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), which is of course a comedy and +must not be taken too literally. On the other hand, a comic poet who +knew his business (and surely Aristophanes did) could hardly +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> present a +well-known man to the Athenian public in a manner which had no relation +to fact at all. It is fortunate that there is a passage in +Xenophon’s <i>Memorabilia</i> (i. 6) which seems to supply us with the +very background we need to make the <i>Clouds</i> intelligible. It represents +Socrates in an entirely different light from that in which he appears in +the rest of the work, and it can hardly be Xenophon’s own +invention. It seems to refer to a time when Plato and Xenophon were +babies, if not to a time before they were born, and it is probable that +it comes from some literary source which we can no longer trace. We are +told, then, that Antiphon the sophist was trying to detach his +companions (<span class='t' title='synousiastai'>συνουσιασται</span>) from Socrates, and a conversation +followed in which he charged him with teaching his followers to be +miserable rather than happy, and added that he was right not to charge a +fee for his teaching, since in fact it was of no value. It will be seen +that this implies a regular relation between Socrates and his followers +which was sufficiently well known to arouse professional jealousy. +Socrates does not attempt to deny the fact. He says that what he and his +companions do is to spend their time together in studying the wisdom of +the men of old which they have left behind them in books, and that, if +they come upon anything which they think is good, they extract it for +their own use, and count it great gain if, in doing this, they become +friends to one another. It is obvious that this suggests something quite +different from the current view of Socrates as a talker at street +corners, something much more like a regular school, and that, so far as +it goes, it explains the burlesque of Aristophanes.</p> + +<p>The Socrates of whom we know most is, however, quite differently +engaged. He has devoted his life to a mission to his fellow men, and +especially to his fellow citizens. If we may so far trust Plato’s +<i>Apology</i>, the occasion of that was the answer received from the Delphic +oracle by Chaerephon, whom we know from Aristophanes as one of the +leading disciples of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> Socrates in the earlier part of his life. +Chaerephon asked the god of Delphi whether there was any one wiser than +Socrates, and this of course implies that Socrates had a reputation for +‘wisdom’ before his mission began. The oracle declared that +there was no one wiser, and Plato makes Socrates say in the <i>Apology</i> +that this was the real beginning of that mission. He set out at first to +prove that the oracle was wrong, and for that purpose he tried to +discover some one wiser than himself, a search in which he was +disappointed, since he could only find people who thought they were +wise, and no one who really was so. He therefore concluded that what the +oracle really meant was that Socrates was wiser than other people in one +respect only. Neither he nor any one else was really ‘wise’, +but Socrates was wiser than the rest because he knew he was not wise and +they thought they were. It ought to be clear that this is mostly +‘irony’, and it is not to be supposed that Socrates attached +undue importance to the oracle, which he speaks of quite lightly, but he +could hardly have told the story at all unless it was generally known +that his mission did in fact date roughly from that period of his life. +Historically it would probably be truer to say that the outbreak of the +Peloponnesian War, in which Socrates served with great distinction as a +hoplite, marked the decisive turning-point. It was in the camp at +Potidaea that he once stood in a trance for twenty-four hours (431 <span class='lc sc'>B. +C.</span>), and that seems to point to some great psychological change, which +may very well have been occasioned or accelerated by his experiences in +the war. At any rate we now find him entirely devoted to the conversion +of his fellow citizens, and we must try to understand what the message +he had for them was.</p> + +<p>In the <i>Apology</i> Socrates declares that his mission was divinely imposed +upon him, so that he dare not neglect it, even if it should lead to his +death, as in fact it did. The tone here is quite different from the +half-humorous style in which he deals with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> the Delphic oracle, and even +the ‘divine sign’. That only warned him not to do things, +mostly quite trivial things, which he was about to do, and never told +him to do anything; this, on the contrary, was a positive command, laid +upon him by God, and there can be no doubt that Plato means us to +understand this to have been the innermost conviction of Socrates. It is +hard to believe that Plato could have misrepresented his master’s +attitude on such a point. He was present at the trial, and the <i>Apology</i> +must have been written not very long afterwards, when the memory of it +was still fresh in people’s minds. Now Plato tells us quite +clearly that what Socrates tried to get the Athenians to understand was +the duty of ‘caring for their souls’ (<span class='t' title='psychês epimeleio'>ψυχης επιμελειο</span>). +That is confirmed from other sources, and indeed it is +generally admitted. The phrase has, however, become so familiar that it +does not at once strike us as anything very new or important. To an +Athenian of the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, on the other hand, it must have +seemed very strange indeed. The word translated ‘soul’ +(<span class='t' title='psychê'>ψυχη</span>) occurs often enough, no doubt, in the literature of +the period, but it is never used of anything for which we could be +called upon to ‘care’ in the sense evidently intended by +Socrates. Its normal use is to denote the breath of life, the +‘ghost’ a man ‘gives up’ at the moment of death. +It can therefore be rendered by ‘life’ in all cases where +there is a question of risking or losing life or of clinging to it when +we ought to be prepared to sacrifice it, but it is not used for the seat +of conscious life at all. It is sometimes employed to signify the seat +of the dream-consciousness or of what is now called the subconscious or +subliminal self, but never of the ordinary waking consciousness which is +the seat of knowledge and ignorance, goodness and badness.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> On the +other hand, that use of the word is quite common in the fourth century, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +and it may be inferred that this change was due to Socrates. More than +once Aristophanes ridicules him for holding some strange view of the +‘soul’, and these jests were made at a time when Plato was +only a child. We cannot, of course, expect to get any very definite idea +from them as to the real teaching of Socrates on this subject, but it is +not impossible to see what it was, if we take into account the views of +the soul which had been held by the philosophical schools of eastern and +western Ionia.</p> + +<p>The Ionians of Asia Minor had certainly identified the soul with that in +us which is conscious, and which is the seat of goodness and badness, +wisdom and folly; but they did not regard it as what we call the self or +treat it as an individual. Anaximenes and his school held that the soul +was what they called Air, but that was just because they regarded Air as +the primary substance of which all things are made. The soul was +something, in fact, that comes to us from outside (<span class='t' title='thyrathen'>θυραθεν</span>) +by means of respiration. As Diogenes of Apollonia expresses it, it is +‘a small portion of the god’, that is, of the primary +substance, enclosed in a human body for a time, and returning at death +to the larger mass of the same substance outside. The formula +‘Earth to earth and air to air’ was accepted as an adequate +description of what takes place at death. The western Ionians, and +especially the Pythagoreans, held a very different view. For them, the +soul was something divine. It was, in fact, a fallen god, imprisoned in +the body as a punishment for antenatal sin, and it deserved our care in +this sense, that it was our chief business in life to purify it so as to +secure its release from the necessity of reincarnation in another body. +But, during this present life, they held that this divine element +slumbers, except in prophetic dreams. As Pindar puts it, ‘It +sleeps when the limbs are active.’ Neither of these views was +familiar to the ordinary Athenian, but Socrates of course knew both +well, and felt satisfied with neither. When he spoke of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> the soul he did +not mean any mysterious fallen god which was the temporary tenant of the +body, but the conscious self which it lies with us to try to make wise +and good. On the other hand, his insistence on our duty to ‘care +for’ it is quite inconsistent with the view that it is merely +something extrinsic, as all the eastern Ionians down to Anaxagoras had +taught. It is, on the contrary, our very self, the thing in us which is +of more importance to us than anything else whatever. It was to this +doctrine of the soul and our duty to it that Socrates felt he must +convert mankind and especially his fellow-citizens. It was a strange and +novel doctrine then; and, if it has become a commonplace since, that +only shows that he was successful, if not in persuading his fellowmen to +act on this knowledge, at least in making them aware of it. It was in +this way that Socrates healed the rift between science and religion +which had proved fatal to the Pythagorean society, and it may be +suggested that the significance of his teaching is not exhausted yet. As +has been indicated above it is to be found clearly stated in +Plato’s <i>Apology of Socrates</i>, and it furnishes the only clue to a +right understanding of the great series of Platonic dialogues down to +and including the <i>Republic</i> in which Socrates is represented as the +chief speaker. Whether Plato added much or little of his own to the +doctrine of his master in these dialogues is an interesting historical +problem, but it need not concern the ordinary reader, at least in the +first instance. We know from the allusions of Aristophanes that Socrates +himself taught a new doctrine of the soul when Plato was a child, and no +sympathetic reader can fail to see that the passage of the <i>Apology</i> to +which we have referred is intended to be a faithful account of that +doctrine. All the rest is simply its legitimate development, and it is +not of very great importance for us to determine whether that +development is due to Socrates or to Plato. The inspiration which has +been derived from these writings by many generations will not be +lessened by any decision we may come to on this point, so long +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> as we +keep clearly in mind that the new doctrine of soul is their principal +theme, and that this must be understood in the light of the doctrines +which had prepared the way for it. What Socrates did was really this. He +deepened the meaning of the Eastern Ionian doctrine by informing it with +some of the feeling and emotion which had characterized the Pythagorean +teaching on the subject, while on the other hand he rationalized the +Pythagorean theory by identifying the soul with our conscious +personality.</p> + +<p>Now if this is a correct account of what Socrates taught, he must be +regarded as inaugurating an entirely new period in the history of +philosophy. That is implied in the common term +‘Presocratics’ generally applied to his predecessors, though +the ordinary textbooks are by no means clear as to the grounds for +assigning this pre-eminent position to Socrates. We can also see how +natural it was for him to lay such emphasis on the conversion of souls +as he certainly did. That purpose continued to dominate Greek philosophy +to the very end. No doubt successive schools varied in their conception +of what conversion meant, but that is the link which binds them all +together. In fact, it gave rise to a new literary form, the +‘hortatory discourse’ (<span class='t' title='protreptikos logos'>προτρεπτικος λογος</span>), which +was more and more cultivated as time went on, and was at last taken over +by the fathers of the Christian church along with much else of a more +fundamental character.</p> + +<p>It has been noted already that Socrates had followers among all the +leading philosophical schools of the time, and the possibility is not to +be excluded that we may still learn more of him from the discovery of +new sources. For the present, the recovery of some new and fairly +extensive fragments of the <i>Alcibiades</i> of Aeschines of Sphettos is the +chief addition to our sources of information. We know that Aeschines was +a disciple of Socrates, and the tradition of antiquity was that his +dialogues gave the most faithful picture of the man as he really was. If +so,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +that was probably because Aeschines had no philosophy of his own. +For us the chief importance of the new fragments is that, if we read +them along with those already known (and it is unfortunate that the old +and the new have not yet been printed together), they strongly confirm +the impression we get from Plato of the manner of Socrates and his +method of argument, and that helps to reassure us as to the essentially +historical character of the Platonic Socrates. The fragments of +Aeschines also corroborate Plato by showing that the conversion of +Alcibiades (whose life he had saved when a young man) was one of the +things that lay nearest his heart.</p> + +<p>But the real successor of Socrates was, of course, Plato himself +(427-347 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). It is not possible to give even an outline of +Plato’s philosophy here. Indeed the time has hardly come for that +yet, though much admirable work is now being done, especially by a +French professor, M. Robin, which promises more certain conclusions than +have yet been possible. All that can be attempted here is to indicate +the attitude of Plato to some of the problems we have been discussing. +His very great contributions to the theory of knowledge will be passed +over, as they are beginning to be well understood, and the <i>Theaetetus</i> +in particular, with its sequel the <i>Sophist</i>, is more and more coming to +occupy its rightful place as the best introduction to philosophy in +general. It is necessary, however, just to notice in passing a +fundamental question of method which the Platonic dialogues themselves +suggest. It is this. While Socrates is present in every one of them +except the <i>Laws</i>, he takes practically no part in some of them, and the +dialogues in which this is the case are known on other grounds to belong +to the later years of Plato’s life. There must be some reason for +this, and it is obviously prudent to treat these later dialogues in the +first instance as our primary evidence for Plato’s own views. +Indeed, it is only after his philosophy has been reconstructed from +these sources and from the sometimes obscure references to it in +Aristotle, that it will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +be safe to attempt an answer to the question of +how much there may be in the dialogues of his early life which is +properly to be assigned to Plato himself rather than to Socrates. That +is a historical question of great interest; but, as has been said, the +solution of it, if that should ever prove possible, would not greatly +affect the impression that Athenian philosophy leaves upon us as a +whole.</p> + +<p>Now, if we consider Plato’s later, and presumably therefore most +independent writings, we find, just as we should expect from a disciple +of Socrates, that the doctrine of soul holds the first place, but that +it has certain features of its own which there is no sufficient ground +for attributing to Socrates. We are too apt to think of Plato as mainly +occupied with what is called the ‘theory of Ideas’, a theory +which is discussed once or twice in his earlier dialogues, and which is +there ascribed to Socrates, but which plays no part at all in his mature +works. There the chief place is undoubtedly taken by the doctrine of the +soul, and we can see that it is of the first importance for Plato. Soul +is regarded as the source of all motion in the world, because it is the +only thing in the world that moves without being itself moved by +anything else. It is this and this alone that enables Plato to account +for the existence of the world and of mankind, and to avoid the theory +of ‘two worlds’ into which, as he points out in the +<i>Sophist</i>, ‘the friends of the Ideas’, whoever they may have +been, were only too apt to fall. In Plato this view of the soul +culminates in theology of a kind which he nowhere attributes to +Socrates. He represents him, indeed, as a man of a deeply religious +nature, but we do not gather that he had felt the need of a formal +doctrine of God. Plato, on the other hand, has left us the first +systematic defence of Theism we know of, and it is based entirely on his +doctrine of soul as the self-moved mover. But the highest soul, or God, +is not only the ultimate source of motion, but also supremely good. Now, +since there are many things in the world which are not good, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> and since +it would be blasphemy to attribute these to God, there must be other +souls in the world which are relatively at least independent. God is +not, directly at least, the cause of all things, but it is not easy to +discover the relation in which these other souls are thought of as +standing to God. In the <i>Timaeus</i>, the matter is put in this way. The +soul of the world, and all other souls human and divine, are the work of +the Creator, who is identified with God, and they are not inherently +indestructible, since anything that has been made can be unmade. They +are, however, practically indestructible, since God made all things +because He was good and wished them also to be as good as possible. His +goodness, therefore, will not suffer Him to destroy what He has once +made. That of course is mythically expressed, and Plato is not committed +to it as a statement of his own belief, since it is only the account +which <i>Timaeus</i> puts into the mouth of the Creator. We can see, however, +what was the problem with which he was occupied, and it is not perhaps +illegitimate to infer that he approached the question which still +baffles speculation from the point of view that God’s omnipotence, +as we should call it, is limited by his goodness. This is a much more +important limitation than that imposed by the existence of matter, to +which Timaeus also refers. In that, he is simply following the tradition +of the Pythagorean society to which he belonged, as is shown by his +identification of matter with space, or rather with ‘room’. +So far as can be seen at present, we are not entitled to ascribe this +view to Plato without more ado, but that is a point on which the last +word has not yet been said.</p> + +<p>The description of the creation given by Timaeus is of course to be +regarded as mythical in its details, but it has features from which we +may learn a good deal as to the direction taken by Plato’s +thoughts about the world. In particular, while the important part played +by geometry is quite intelligible in the mouth of a Pythagorean, he +makes use of certain theories which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> we know to belong to the most +recent mathematics of the day, in particular the complete doctrine of +the five regular solids, which was due to Theaetetus, who was one of the +earliest members of the Academy, and whom Plato represents as having +made the acquaintance of Socrates just before the master’s death. +Theaetetus died young, but we know enough of him to feel sure that he +was one of the few great original mathematicians who have appeared in +history. In the <i>Timaeus</i> the theory of the regular solids is used to +get rid once more of the doctrine of four ultimate +‘elements’. These, Timaeus says, are so far from being +elements or letters of the alphabet, that they are not even syllables. +The way in which the so-called elements are built up out of molecules +corresponding in their configuration to the regular solids, and the +explanations of their transmutation into one another based on the +geometrical construction of these figures, is apt to strike the average +reader as fantastic, but one of the most distinguished living +mathematicians and physicists has stated that he is struck most of all +by their resemblance to the scientific theories of the twentieth +century. It will be well, therefore, to avoid hasty judgements on this +point. It is at any rate easy to understand how the study of mathematics +came to hold the preponderating place it did in the Platonic Academy.</p> + +<p>In accordance with the plan of this paper, something must now be said of +Plato’s attitude to the practical life, a point on which it is +very easy to make mistakes. No one has insisted more strongly than he +has on the primacy of the Theoretic Life. The philosopher is the man who +is in love with the spectacle of all time and all existence and that is +what delivers him from petty ambitions and low desires. He has made the +toilsome ascent out of the Cave in which the mass of men dwell, and in +which they only behold the shadows of reality. But, even in this +enthusiastic description of the philosophic life, an equal stress is +laid on the duty of philosopher to descend into the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> Cave in turn and to +rescue as many of their former fellow-prisoners as may be, even against +their will, by turning them to the light and dragging them up into the +world of truth and reality. It is quite easy to understand, in view of +this, that Plato devoted some of the best years of his life to practical +affairs and that he relinquished the studies of the Academy for a time +in order to direct the education of Dionysius II. The thing appeared +well worth doing; for Greek civilization in Sicily, and consequently, as +we can now see, the civilization of western Europe, was seriously +threatened by the Carthaginians. They had been held at bay by Dionysius +I, but after his death everything depended on his successor. Now the +education of Dionysius II had been completely neglected, but he had good +natural abilities, and his uncle Dion, who was Plato’s friend, was +ready to answer for his good intentions. Plato could not turn a deaf ear +to such a call. Unfortunately Dionysius was vain and obstinate, and he +soon became impatient of the serious studies which Plato rightly +regarded as necessary to prepare him for his task. The result was a +growing estrangement between Plato and his pupil, which made it +impossible to hope for a successful issue to the plans of Dion. It is +unnecessary to tell the whole story here, but it is right to say that +there was nothing at all impracticable in what Plato undertook, and that +he was certainly justified in holding that the education of Dionysius +must be completed before it would be safe to entrust him with the +championship of the cause of Hellenism in the west.</p> + +<p>His failure to make anything of Dionysius did not lead Plato to abandon +his efforts to heal the wounds of Hellenism. One of the studies most +ardently pursued in the Academy was Jurisprudence, of which he is the +real founder. It was not uncommon for Greek states to apply to the +Academy for legislators to codify existing law or to frame a new code +for colonies which had just been founded. That is the real explanation +of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the remarkable work entitled the <i>Laws</i>, which must have occupied +Plato for many years, and which was probably begun while he was still +directing the studies of Dionysius. It appears to have been left +unfinished; for, while some parts of it are highly elaborated, there are +others which make upon us the impression of being a first draft. Even +so, it is a great work if we regard it from the proper point of view. It +is, in the first place, a codification of Greek, and especially Athenian +law, of course with those reforms and improvements which suggest +themselves when the subject is systematically treated, and it formed the +basis of Hellenistic, and through that of Roman law, to which the world +owes so much. There is no more useful corrective of the popular notion +of Plato as an unpractical visionary than the careful study of the +dullest and most technical parts of the <i>Laws</i> in the light of the +<i>Institutes</i>.</p> + +<p>No attempt has been made here to describe the system of Plato as a +whole, and indeed the time has not yet come when such an attempt can +profitably be made. We have no direct knowledge of his teaching in the +Academy; for we only possess the works which he wrote with a wider +public in view. In the case of Aristotle (384-322 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), a similar +reservation must be made, though for just the opposite reason. We have +only fragments of his published works and what we possess is mainly the +groundwork of his lectures in the Lyceum. It will be seen that there is +still very much to be done here too. From the nature of the case, notes +for lectures take a great deal for granted that would be more fully +explained when the lectures were delivered, and some of the most +important points are hardly developed at all. Nevertheless there are +certain things which come out clearly enough, and it so happens that +they are points of great importance from which we can learn something +with regard to the philosophical problems of the present day.</p> + +<p>In the first place, it is desirable to point out that Aristotle was not +an Athenian, but an Ionian from the northern Aegean, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> and that he was +strongly influenced by eastern Ionian science, especially by the system +of Democritus (which Plato does not appear to have known) and by the +medical theories of the time. That is why he is so unsympathetic to the +western schools of philosophy, and especially to the Pythagoreans and +the Eleatics. Empedocles alone, who was a biologist like himself, and +the founder of a medical school, finds favour in his eyes. He is not, +therefore, at home in mathematical matters and his system of Physics can +only be regarded as retrograde when we compare it with that of the +Academy. He did indeed accept the doctrine of the earth’s +sphericity, but with that exception his cosmological views must be +called reactionary. Where he is really great is in biology, a field of +research which was not entirely neglected by the Academy, but which had +been treated as secondary in comparison with mathematics and astronomy. +The contrast between Plato and Aristotle in this respect seems to repeat +on a higher plane that between Pythagoras and Empedocles, and this +suggests something like a law of philosophical development which may +perhaps throw light on the present situation. It seems as if this +alternation of the mathematical and the biological interest was +fundamental in the development of scientific thought and that the +philosophy of different periods takes its colour from it. The philosophy +of the nineteenth century was dominated in the main by biological +conceptions, while it seems as if that of the twentieth was to be +chiefly mathematical in its outlook on the world. We must not, of +course, make too much of such formulas, but it is instructive to study +such alternations in the philosophy of the Greeks, where everything is +simpler and more easily apprehended.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Aristotle had been a member of the Academy for twenty +years, and that could not fail to leave its mark upon him. This no doubt +explains the fact, which has often been noted, that there are two +opposite and inconsistent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +strains in all Aristotle’s thinking. On +the one hand, he is determined to avoid everything +‘transcendental’, and his dislike of Pythagorean and +Platonist mathematics is mainly due to that. On the other hand, despite +his captious and sometimes unfair criticisms of Plato, he evidently +admired him greatly and had been much influenced by him. It may be +suggested that the tone of his criticisms is partly due to his annoyance +at finding that he could not shake off his Platonism, do what he would. +This is borne out by the fact that, when he has come to the furthest +point to which his own system will take him, he is apt to take refuge in +metaphors of a mythical or ‘transcendental’ character, for +which we are not prepared in any way and of which no explanation is +vouchsafed us. That is particularly the case when he is dealing with the +soul and the first mover. On the whole his account of the soul is simply +a development of eastern Ionian theories, and we feel that we are far +removed indeed from the Platonist conception of the soul’s +priority to everything else. But, when he has told us that the highest +and most developed form of soul is Mind, we are suddenly surprised by +the statement that Mind in this sense is merely passive, while there is +another form of it which is separable from matter, and that alone is +immortal and everlasting. This has given rise to endless controversy +which does not concern us here, but it seems best to interpret it as an +involuntary outburst of the Platonism Aristotle could not wholly +renounce. Very similar is the passage where he tries to explain how the +first mover, though itself unmoved, communicates motion to the world. +‘It moves it like a thing beloved,’ he tells us, and leaves +us to make what we can of that. And yet we cannot help feeling that, in +passages like this, we come far nearer to the beliefs Aristotle really +cared about than we do anywhere else. At heart he is a Platonist in +spite of himself.</p> + +<p>Aristotle’s attitude to the practical life is also dependent on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +Plato’s. In the Tenth Book of the <i>Ethics</i> he puts the claims of +the Contemplative Life even higher than Plato ever did, so that the +practical life appears to be only ancillary to it. He does not feel in +the same degree as Plato the call for the philosopher to descend once +more into the Cave for the sake of the prisoners there, and altogether +he seems far more indifferent to the practical interests of life. +Nevertheless he followed Plato’s lead in giving much of his time +to the study of Politics and that too with the distinctly practical aim +of training legislators. He has often been criticized for his failure to +see that the days of the city-state were numbered, and for the way in +which he ignores the rise of an imperial monarchy in the person of his +own pupil Alexander the Great. That, however, is not quite fair. +Aristotle had a healthy dislike of princes and courts, and the +city-state still appealed to him as the normal form of political +organization. He could not believe that it would ever be superseded, and +he wished to contribute to its better administration. He had, in fact, a +much more conservative outlook than Plato, who was inclined to think +with Isocrates, that the revival of monarchy was the only thing that +could preserve Hellenism as things were then. We must remember that +Aristotle was not himself a citizen of any free state, and that he could +hardly be expected to have the same political instincts as Plato, who +belonged by birth to the governing classes of Athens and had inherited +the liberal traditions of the Periclean Age. This comes out best of all +perhaps, in the attitude of the two philosophers to the question of +slavery. In the <i>Laws</i>, which deals with existing conditions, Plato of +course recognizes the <i>de facto</i> existence of slavery, though he is very +sensible of its dangers and makes many legislative proposals with a view +to their mitigation. In the <i>Republic</i>, on the other hand, where there +is no need to trouble about existing conditions, he makes Socrates +picture for us a community in which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> there are apparently no slaves at +all. Aristotle is also anxious to mitigate the worst abuses of slavery, +but he justifies the institution as a permanent one by the consideration +that barbarians are ‘slaves by nature’ and that it is for +their own interest to be ‘living tools’. This insistence +upon the fundamental distinction between Greeks and barbarians must have +seemed an anachronism to many of Aristotle’s contemporaries and it +had been expressly denounced by Plato as unscientific.</p> + +<p>The immediate effect of Aristotle’s rejection of Platonist +mathematics was one he certainly neither foresaw nor intended. It was to +make a breach between philosophy and science. Mathematical science, +whether Aristotle realized it or not, was still in the vigour of its +first youth, and mathematicians were stirred by the achievements of the +last generation to attempt the solution of still higher problems. If the +Lyceum turned away from them, they were quite prepared to carry on the +Academic tradition by themselves, and they succeeded for a time beyond +all expectation. The third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> was, in fact, the Golden Age of +Greek mathematics, and it has been suggested that this was due to the +emancipation of mathematics from philosophy. If that were true, it would +be very important for us to know it; but it can, I think, be shown that +it is not true. The great mathematicians of the third century were +certainly carrying on the tradition of their predecessors who had been +philosophers as well as mathematicians, and it is not to be wondered at +that they were able to do so for a time. But the really striking fact is +surely that Greek mathematics became sterile in a comparatively short +time, and that no further advance was made till the days of Descartes +and Leibniz, with whom philosophy and mathematics once more went hand in +hand.</p> + +<p>Nor was the effect of this divorce on philosophy itself less +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +disastrous. Theophrastus continued Aristotle’s work on +Aristotle’s lines, and founded the science of Botany as his +predecessor had founded that of Zoology, but the Peripatetic School +practically died out with him and had very little influence till the +study of Aristotle was revived long afterwards by the Neoplatonists.</p> + +<p>For the present, the divorce of science and philosophy was complete. The +Stoics and the Epicureans had both, indeed, a scientific system, but +their philosophy was in no sense based upon it. The attitude of Epicurus +to science is particularly well marked. He took no interest in it +whatever as such, but he used it as an instrument to free men from the +religious fear to which he attributed human unhappiness. For that +purpose, the science of the Academy, which had led up to a theology, was +obviously unsuitable, and, like a true eastern Ionian as he was, +Epicurus harked back to the atomic theory of Democritus, adding to it, +however, certain things which really made nonsense of it, such, for +instance, as the theory of absolute weight and lightness, which +Aristotle had unfortunately taught. The Stoics too were corporealists, +and found such science as they required in the system of Heraclitus, +though they also adopted for polemical purposes much of +Aristotle’s Logic, taking pains, however, to alter his +terminology. Both these schools, in fact, while remaining faithful to +the idea of philosophy as conversion, forgot that it had always been +based on science in its best days. It was this, no doubt, which chiefly +commended Stoicism and Epicureanism to the Romans, who were never really +interested in science. Both Stoicism and Epicureanism made a practical +appeal, though of a different kind, and that served to gain credit for +them at Rome.</p> + +<p>The Academy which Plato had founded still continued to exist, though it +was diverted from its original purpose not more than a generation after +Plato’s death. Mathematics, we have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> seen, had made itself +independent, and the most pressing necessity of the time was certainly +the criticism of the new dogmatism which the Stoics had introduced. That +was really carrying on one side of Platonism and not the least +important. It is true indeed that the Academy appears to us at this +distance of time mainly as a school of scepticism, but we must remember +that its scepticism was directed entirely to the sensible world, as to +which the attitude of Plato himself was not fundamentally different. The +real sceptics always refused to admit that the Academics were sceptics +in the proper sense of the word, and it is possible that the tradition +of Platonism proper was never wholly broken. At any rate, by the first +century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, we begin to notice that Stoicism tends to become more and +more Platonic. The study of Plato’s <i>Timaeus</i> came into favour +again, and the commentary which Posidonius (<i>c.</i> 100 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) wrote upon +it had great influence on the development of philosophy down to the end +of the Middle Ages. It is this period of eclecticism which is reflected +for us in the philosophical writings of Cicero. It had great importance +for the history of civilization, but it is far removed from the spirit +of genuine Greek philosophy. That was dead for the present, and it did +not come to life again till the third century of our era, when Platonism +was revived at Rome by Plotinus.</p> + +<p>It is only quite recently that historians of Greek philosophy have begun +to do justice to ‘Neoplatonism’. That is partly due to the +contemporary philosophical tendencies noted at the beginning of this +paper, and partly to historical investigations into the philosophy of +the Middle Ages, which is more and more seen to be dependent mainly on +Neoplatonism down to and including the system of St. Thomas Aquinas. It +was in fact the most decisive fact in the history of Western European +civilization that Plotinus founded his school at Rome rather than at +Athens or Alexandria; for that is how Western Europe +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> became the real +heir to the philosophy of Greece. Every one knows, of course, that +Plotinus was a ‘mystic’, but the term is apt to suggest +quite wrong ideas about him. He is often spoken of still as a man who +introduced oriental ideas into Greek philosophy, and he is popularly +supposed to have been an Egyptian. That is most improbable; and, if it +were true, it would only make it the more remarkable that, though he +certainly studied at Alexandria for eleven years, he never even mentions +the religion of Isis, which was so fashionable at Rome in his day, and +which had fascinated so genuine a Greek as Plutarch some generations +before. There is no doubt that what Plotinus believed himself to be +teaching was genuine Platonism, and that he had prepared himself for the +task by a careful study of Aristotle and even of Stoicism, so far as +that served his purpose. No doubt he was too great a man to make himself +the mere mouthpiece of another’s thought; but, for all that, he +was the legitimate successor of Plato, and it may be added that M. +Robin, who has taken upon himself the arduous task of extracting +Plato’s real philosophy from the writings of Aristotle, has come +to the conclusion that there is a great deal more +‘Neoplatonism’ in Plato than is sometimes supposed.</p> + +<p>Plotinus is a mystic, then, though not at all in the sense in which the +term is often misused. He sets before his disciples a ‘way of +life’ which leads by stages to the highest life of all, but that +is just what Pythagoras and Plato had done, and it is only the +continuation of a tradition which goes back among the Greeks to the +sixth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, nearly a thousand years before the time of +Plotinus. His aim, like that of his predecessors, is the conversion of +souls to this way of life, and he differs from such thinkers as the +Stoics and the Epicureans in holding that the ‘way of life’ +to which he calls them must be based once more on a systematic doctrine +of God, the World and Man. The result was that the divorce which had +existed for centuries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +between science and philosophy was once more +annulled. We cannot say, indeed, that Plotinus himself made any special +study of Mathematics, but there is no doubt at all that his followers +did, and it is due to them, and especially to Proclus, that we know as +much of Greek Mathematics as we do. Proclus was indeed the systematizer +of the doctrine of Plotinus, though he differs from him on certain +points, and his influence on later philosophy cannot be overestimated. +It can be distinctly traced even in Descartes, whom it reached through a +number of channels, the study of which has recently been undertaken by a +French scholar, Professor Gilson, of the University of Strasbourg. When +his researches are complete, the continuity of Greek and modern +philosophy will be plainly seen, and the part played by Platonism in the +making of the modern European mind will be made manifest. We shall then +understand better than ever why Greek philosophy is a subject of +perennial interest.</p> + +<p>The history of Greek philosophy is, in fact, the history of our own +spiritual past, and it is impossible to understand the present without +taking it into account. In particular, the Platonist tradition underlies +the whole of western civilization. It was at Rome, as has been pointed +out, that Plotinus taught, and it was in certain Latin translations of +the writings of his school that St. Augustine found the basis for a +Christian philosophy he was seeking. It was Augustine’s great +authority in the Latin Church that made Platonism its official +philosophy for centuries. It is a complete mistake to suppose that the +thinking of the Middle Ages was dominated by the authority of Aristotle. +It was not till the thirteenth century that Aristotle was known at all, +and even then he was studied in the light of Platonism, just as he had +been by Plotinus and his followers. It was only at the very close of the +Middle Ages that he acquired the predominance which has made so strong +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +an impression on the centuries that followed. It was from the Platonist +tradition, too, that the science of the earlier Middle Ages came. A +considerable portion of Plato’s <i>Timaeus</i> had been translated into +Latin in the fourth century by Chalcidius with a very elaborate +commentary based on ancient sources, while the <i>Consolation of +Philosophy</i>, written in prison by the Roman Platonist Boethius in <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> +525, was easily the most popular book of the Middle Ages. It was +translated into English by Alfred the Great and by Chaucer, and into +many other European languages. It was on these foundations that the +French Platonism of the twelfth century, and especially that of the +School of Chartres, was built up, and the influence of that school in +England was very great indeed. The names of Grosseteste and Roger Bacon +may just be mentioned in this connexion, and it would not be hard to +show that the special character of the contribution which English +writers have been able to make to science and philosophy is in large +measure attributable to this influence.</p> + +<p>But the interest of Greek philosophy is not only historical; it is full +of instruction for the future too. Since the time of Locke, philosophy +has been apt to limit itself to discussions about the nature of +knowledge, and to leave questions about the nature of the world to +specialists. The history of Greek philosophy shows the danger of this +unnatural division of the province of thought, and the more we study it, +the more we shall feel the need of a more comprehensive view. The +‘philosophy of things human’, as the Greeks called it, is +only one department among others, and the theory of knowledge is only +one department of that. If studied in isolation from the whole, it must +inevitably become one-sided. From Greek philosophy we can also learn +that it is fatal to divorce speculation from the service of mankind. The +notion that philosophy could be so isolated would have been wholly +unintelligible to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> any of the great Greek thinkers, and most of all +perhaps to the Platonists who are often charged with this very heresy. +Above all, we can learn from Greek philosophy the paramount importance +of what we call the personality and they called the soul. It was just +because the Greeks realized this that the genuinely Hellenic idea of +conversion played so great a part in their thinking and in their lives. +That, above all, is the lesson they have to teach, and that is why the +writings of their great philosophers have still the power to convert the +souls of all that will receive their teaching with humility.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>J. Burnet.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MATHEMATICS" id="MATHEMATICS"></a>MATHEMATICS AND ASTRONOMY</h2> + +<p>It has been well said that, if we would study any subject properly, we +must study it as something that is alive and growing and consider it +with reference to its growth in the past. As most of the vital forces +and movements in modern civilization had their origin in Greece, this +means that, to study them properly, we must get back to Greece. So it is +with the literature of modern countries, or their philosophy, or their +art; we cannot study them with the determination to get to the bottom +and understand them without the way pointing eventually back to Greece.</p> + +<p>When we think of the debt which mankind owes to the Greeks, we are apt +to think too exclusively of the masterpieces in literature and art which +they have left us. But the Greek genius was many-sided; the Greek, with +his insatiable love of knowledge, his determination to see things as +they are and to see them whole, his burning desire to be able to give a +rational explanation of everything in heaven and earth, was just as +irresistibly driven to natural science, mathematics, and exact reasoning +in general, or logic.</p> + +<p>To quote from a brilliant review of a well-known work: ‘To be a +Greek was to seek to know, to know the primordial substance of matter, +to know the meaning of number, to know the world as a rational whole. In +no spirit of paradox one may say that Euclid is the most typical Greek: +he would know to the bottom, and know as a rational system, the laws of +the measurement of the earth. Plato, too, loved geometry and the wonders +of numbers; he was essentially Greek because he was essentially +mathematical.... And if one thus finds the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> Greek genius in Euclid and +the <i>Posterior Analytics</i>, one will understand the motto written over +the Academy, <span class='t' title='mêdeis ageômetrêtos eisitô'>μηδεις αγεωμετρητος εισιτω</span>. To know what the Greek +genius meant you must (if one may speak <span class='t' title='en ainigmati'>εν αινιγματι</span>) begin +with geometry.’</p> + +<p>Mathematics, indeed, plays an important part in Greek philosophy: there +are, for example, many passages in Plato and Aristotle for the +interpretation of which some knowledge of the technique of Greek +mathematics is the first essential. Hence it should be part of the +equipment of every classical student that he should have read +substantial portions of the works of the Greek mathematicians in the +original, say, some of the early books of Euclid in full and the +definitions (at least) of the other books, as well as selections from +other writers. Von Wilamowitz-Moellendorff has included in his +<i>Griechisches Lesebuch</i> extracts from Euclid, Archimedes and Heron of +Alexandria; and the example should be followed in this country.</p> + +<p>Acquaintance with the original works of the Greek mathematicians is no +less necessary for any mathematician worthy of the name. Mathematics is +a Greek science. So far as pure geometry is concerned, the +mathematician’s technical equipment is almost wholly Greek. The +Greeks laid down the principles, fixed the terminology and invented the +methods <i>ab initio</i>; moreover, they did this with such certainty that in +the centuries which have since elapsed there has been no need to +reconstruct, still less to reject as unsound, any essential part of +their doctrine.</p> + +<p>Consider first the terminology of mathematics. Almost all the standard +terms are Greek or Latin translations from the Greek, and, although the +mathematician may be taught their meaning without knowing Greek, he will +certainly grasp their significance better if he knows them as they arise +and as part of the living language of the men who invented them. Take +the word <i>isosceles</i>; a schoolboy can be shown what an isosceles +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +triangle is, but, if he knows nothing of the derivation, he will wonder +why such an apparently outlandish term should be necessary to express so +simple an idea. But if the mere appearance of the word shows him that it +means a thing <i>with equal legs</i>, being compounded of <span class='t' title='isos'>ισος</span>, +equal, and <span class='t' title='skelos'>σκελος</span>, a leg, he will understand its +appropriateness and will have no difficulty in remembering it. +<i>Equilateral</i>, on the other hand, is borrowed from the Latin, but it is +merely the Latin translation of the Greek <span class='t' title='isopleuros'>ισοπλευρος</span>, +<i>equal-sided</i>. <i>Parallelogram</i> again can be explained to a Greekless +person, but it will be far better understood by one who sees in it the +two words <span class='t' title='parallêlos'>παραλληλος</span> and +<span class='t' title='grammê'>γραμμη</span> and realizes that it +is a short way of expressing that the figure in question is contained by +parallel lines; and we shall best understand the word <i>parallel</i> itself +if we see in it the statement of the fact that the two straight lines so +described go <i>alongside one another</i>, <span class='t' title='par’ allêlas'>παρ’ αλληλας</span>, all the +way. Similarly a mathematician should know that a <i>rhombus</i> is so called +from its resemblance to a form of spinning-top (<span class='t' title='rhombos'>ῥομβος</span> from +<span class='t' title='rhembô'>ῥεμβω</span>, to spin) and that, just as a parallelogram is a figure +formed by two pairs of parallel straight lines, so a <i>parallelepiped</i> is +a solid figure bounded by three pairs of parallel planes (<span class='t' title='parallêlos'>παραλληλος</span>, +parallel, and <span class='t' title='epipedos'>επιπεδος</span>, plane); incidentally, in +the latter case, he will be saved from writing +‘parallel<i>o</i>piped’, a monstrosity which has disfigured not a +few textbooks of geometry. Another good example is the word +<i>hypotenuse</i>; it comes from the verb <span class='t' title='hypoteinein'>ὑποτεινειν</span> +(c. <span class='t' title='hypo'>ὑπο</span> +and acc. or simple acc.), to <i>stretch under</i>, or, in its Latin +form, to <i>subtend</i>, which term is used quite generally for ‘to be +opposite to’; in our phraseology the word <i>hypotenuse</i> is +restricted to that side of a right-angled triangle which is opposite to +the right angle, being short for the expression used in Eucl. i. 47, +<span class='t' title='hê tên orthên gônian hypoteinousa pleura'>ἡ την ορθην γωνιαν ὑποτεινουσα πλευρα</span>, ‘the side +subtending the right angle’, which accounts for the feminine +participial form <span class='t' title='hypoteinousa'>ὑποτεινουσα</span>, <i>hypotenuse</i>. If mathematicians +had had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> more Greek, perhaps the misspelt form +‘hypot<i>h</i>enuse’ would not have survived so long.</p> + +<p>To take an example outside the Elements, how can a mathematician +properly understand the term <i>latus rectum</i> used in conic sections +unless he has seen it in Apollonius as the <i>erect side</i> +(<span class='t' title='orthia pleura'>ορθια πλευρα</span>) +of a certain rectangle in the case of each of the three +conics?<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> The word <i>ordinate</i> can hardly convey anything to one who +does not know that it is what Apollonius describes as ‘the +straight line drawn down (from a point on the curve) in the <i>prescribed</i> +or <i>ordained</i> manner (<span class='t' title='tetagmenôs katêgmenê'>τεταγμενως κατηγμενη</span>)’. <i>Asymptote</i> +again comes from <span class='t' title='asymptôtos'>ασυμπτωτος</span>, <i>non-meeting</i>, <i>non-secant</i>, and +had with the Greeks a more general signification as well as the narrower +one which it has for us: it was sometimes used of parallel lines, which +also ‘do not meet’.</p> + +<p>Again, if we take up a textbook of geometry written in accordance with +the most modern Education Board circular or University syllabus, we +shall find that the phraseology used (except where made more colloquial +and less scientific) is almost all pure Greek. The Greek tongue was +extraordinarily well adapted as a vehicle of scientific thought. One of +the characteristics of Euclid’s language which his commentator +Proclus is most fond of emphasizing is its marvellous <i>exactness</i> +(<span class='t' title='akribeia'>ακριβεια</span>). The language of the Greek geometers is also +wonderfully concise, notwithstanding all appearances to the contrary. +One of the complaints often made against Euclid is that he is +‘diffuse’. Yet (apart from abbreviations in writing) it will +be found that the exposition of corresponding +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> matters in modern +elementary textbooks generally takes up, not less, but more space. And, +to say nothing of the perfect finish of Archimedes’s treatises, we +shall find in Heron, Ptolemy and Pappus veritable models of concise +statement. The purely geometrical proof by Heron of the formula for the +area of a triangle, <span class='t' title='D'>Δ</span>=√<i>{s(s-a) (s-b) (s-c)}</i>, and the +geometrical propositions in Book I of Ptolemy’s <i>Syntaxis</i> +(including ‘Ptolemy’s Theorem’) are cases in point.</p> + +<p>The principles of geometry and arithmetic (in the sense of the theory of +numbers) are stated in the preliminary matter of Books I and VII of +Euclid. But Euclid was not their discoverer; they were gradually evolved +from the time of Pythagoras onwards. Aristotle is clear about the nature +of the principles and their classification. Every demonstrative science, +he says, has to do with three things, the subject-matter, the things +proved, and the things from which the proof starts (<span class='t' title='ex hôn'>εξ ὡν</span>). It +is not everything that can be proved, otherwise the chain of proof would +be endless; you must begin somewhere, and you must start with things +admitted but indemonstrable. These are, first, principles common to all +sciences which are called <i>axioms</i> or <i>common opinions</i>, as that +‘of two contradictories one must be true’, or ‘if +equals be subtracted from equals, the remainders are equal’; +secondly, principles peculiar to the subject-matter of the particular +science, say geometry. First among the latter principles are +definitions; there must be agreement as to what we mean by certain +terms. But a definition asserts nothing about the existence or +non-existence of the thing defined. The existence of the various things +defined has to be <i>proved</i> except in the case of a few primary things in +each science the existence of which is indemonstrable and must be +<i>assumed</i> among the first principles of the science; thus in geometry we +must assume the existence of points and lines, and in arithmetic of the +unit. Lastly, we must assume certain other things which are +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> less +obvious and cannot be proved but yet have to be accepted; these are +called <i>postulates</i>, because they make a demand on the faith of the +learner. Euclid’s Postulates are of this kind, especially that +known as the parallel-postulate.</p> + +<p>The methods of solution of problems were no doubt first applied in +particular cases and then gradually systematized; the technical terms +for them were probably invented later, after the methods themselves had +become established.</p> + +<p>One method of solution was the <i>reduction</i> of one problem to another. +This was called <span class='t' title='apagôgê'>απαγωγη</span>, a term which seems to occur first in +Aristotle. But instances of such reduction occurred long before. +Hippocrates of Chios reduced the problem of duplicating the cube to that +of finding two mean proportionals in continued proportion between two +straight lines, that is, he showed that, if the latter problem could be +solved, the former was thereby solved also; and it is probable that +there were still earlier cases in the Pythagorean geometry.</p> + +<p>Next there is the method of mathematical <i>analysis</i>. This method is said +to have been ‘communicated’ or ‘explained’ by +Plato to Leodamas of Thasos; but, like reduction (to which it is closely +akin), analysis in the mathematical sense must have been in use much +earlier. <i>Analysis</i> and its correlative <i>synthesis</i> are defined by +Pappus: ‘in analysis we assume that which is sought as if it were +already done, and we inquire what it is from which this results, and +again what is the antecedent cause of the latter, and so on, until by so +retracing our steps we come upon something already known or belonging to +the class of principles. But in synthesis, reversing the process, we +take as already done that which was last arrived at in the analysis, +and, by arranging in their natural order as consequences what were +before antecedents and successively connecting them one with another, we +arrive finally at the construction of that which was sought.’</p> + +<p>The method of <i>reductio ad absurdum</i> is a variety of analysis. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> Starting +from a hypothesis, namely the contradictory of what we desire to prove, +we use the same process of analysis, carrying it back until we arrive at +something admittedly false or absurd. Aristotle describes this method in +various ways as <i>reductio ad absurdum</i>, proof <i>per impossibile</i>, or +proof leading to the impossible. But here again, though the term was +new, the method was not. The paradoxes of Zeno are classical instances.</p> + +<p>Lastly, the Greeks established the form of exposition which still +governs geometrical work, simply because it is dictated by strict logic. +It is seen in Euclid’s propositions, with their separate formal +divisions, to which specific names were afterwards assigned, (1) the +<i>enunciation</i> (<span class='t' title='protasis'>προτασις</span>), (2) the <i>setting-out</i> +(<span class='t' title='ekthesis'>εκθεσις</span>), (3) the +<span class='t' title='diorismos'>διορισμος</span>, being a re-statement of what we +are required to do or prove, not in general terms (as in the +<i>enunciation</i>), but with reference to the particular data contained in +the <i>setting-out</i>, (4) the <i>construction</i> +(<span class='t' title='kataskeuê'>κατασκευη</span>), (5) the +<i>proof</i> (<span class='t' title='apodeixis'>αποδειξις</span>), (6) the <i>conclusion</i> +(<span class='t' title='symperasma'>συμπερασμα</span>). +In the case of a problem it often happens that a solution +is not possible unless the particular data are such as to satisfy +certain conditions; in this case there is yet another constituent part +in the proposition, namely the statement of the conditions or limits of +possibility, which was called by the same name <span class='t' title='diorismos'>διορισμος</span>, +definition or delimitation, as that applied to the third constituent +part of a theorem.</p> + +<p>We have so far endeavoured to indicate generally the finality and the +abiding value of the work done by the creators of mathematical science. +It remains to summarize, as briefly as possible, the history of Greek +mathematics according to periods and subjects.</p> + +<p>The Greeks of course took what they could in the shape of elementary +facts in geometry and astronomy from the Egyptians and Babylonians. But +some of the essential characteristics of the Greek genius assert +themselves even in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +their borrowings from these or other sources. Here, +as everywhere else, we see their directness and concentration; they +always knew what they wanted, and they had an unerring instinct for +taking only what was worth having and rejecting the rest. This is +illustrated by the story of Pythagoras’s travels. He consorted +with priests and prophets and was initiated into the religious rites +practised in different places, not out of religious enthusiasm ‘as +you might think’ (says our informant), but in order that he might +not overlook any fragment of knowledge worth acquiring that might lie +hidden in the mysteries of divine worship.</p> + +<p>This story also illustrates an important advantage which the Greeks had +over the Egyptians and Babylonians. In those countries science, such as +it was, was the monopoly of the priests; and, where this is the case, +the first steps in science are apt to prove the last also, because the +scientific results attained tend to become involved in religious +prescriptions and routine observances, and so to end in a collection of +lifeless formulae. Fortunately for the Greeks, they had no organized +priesthood; untrammelled by prescription, traditional dogmas or +superstition, they could give their reasoning faculties free play. Thus +they were able to create science as a living thing susceptible of +development without limit.</p> + +<p>Greek geometry, as also Greek astronomy, begins with Thales (about +624-547 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), who travelled in Egypt and is said to have brought +geometry from thence. Such geometry as there was in Egypt arose out of +practical needs. Revenue was raised by the taxation of landed property, +and its assessment depended on the accurate fixing of the boundaries of +the various holdings. When these were removed by the periodical flooding +due to the rising of the Nile, it was necessary to replace them, or to +determine the taxable area independently of them, by an art of +land-surveying. We conclude from the Papyrus Rhind (say 1700 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) and +other documents that Egyptian geometry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> consisted mainly of practical +rules for measuring, with more or less accuracy, (1) such areas as +squares, triangles, trapezia, and circles, (2) the solid content of +measures of corn, &c., of different shapes. The Egyptians also +constructed pyramids of a certain slope by means of arithmetical +calculations based on a certain ratio, <i>se-qeṭ</i>, namely the ratio of +half the side of the base to the height, which is in fact equivalent to +the co-tangent of the angle of slope. The use of this ratio implies the +notion of similarity of figures, especially triangles. The Egyptians +knew, too, that a triangle with its sides in the ratio of the numbers 3, +4, 5 is right-angled, and used the fact as a means of drawing right +angles. But there is no sign that they knew the general property of a +right-angled triangle (= Eucl. I. 47), of which this is a particular +case, or that they proved any general theorem in geometry.</p> + +<p>No doubt Thales, when he was in Egypt, would see diagrams drawn to +illustrate the rules for the measurement of circles and other plane +figures, and these diagrams would suggest to him certain similarities +and congruences which would set him thinking whether there were not some +elementary general principles underlying the construction and relations +of different figures and parts of figures. This would be in accord with +the Greek instinct for generalization and their wish to be able to +account for everything on rational principles.</p> + +<p>The following theorems are attributed to Thales: (1) that a circle is +bisected by any diameter (Eucl. I, Def. 17), (2) that the angles at the +base of an isosceles triangle are equal (Eucl. I. 5), (3) that, if two +straight lines cut one another, the vertically opposite angles are equal +(Eucl. I. 15), (4) that, if two triangles have two angles and one side +respectively equal, the triangles are equal in all respects (Eucl. I. +26). He is said (5) to have been the first to inscribe a right-angled +triangle in a circle, which must mean that he was the first to discover +that the angle in a semicircle is a right angle (cf. Eucl. III. 31).</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +Elementary as these things are, they represent a new departure of a +momentous kind, being the first steps towards a <i>theory</i> of geometry. On +this point we cannot do better than quote some remarks from Kant’s +preface to the second edition of his <i>Kritik der reinen Vernunft</i>.</p> + +<p>‘Mathematics has, from the earliest times to which the history of +human reason goes back, (that is to say) with that wonderful people the +Greeks, travelled the safe road of a <i>science</i>. But it must not be +supposed that it was as easy for mathematics as it was for logic, where +reason is concerned with itself alone, to find, or rather to build for +itself, that royal road. I believe on the contrary that with mathematics +it remained for long a case of groping about—the Egyptians in +particular were still at that stage—and that this transformation must +be ascribed to a <i>revolution</i> brought about by the happy inspiration of +one man in trying an experiment, from which point onward the road that +must be taken could no longer be missed, and the safe way of a science +was struck and traced out for all time and to distances illimitable.... +A light broke on the first man who demonstrated the property of the +isosceles triangle (whether his name was Thales or what you +will)....’</p> + +<p>Thales also solved two problems of a practical kind: (1) he showed how +to measure the distance of a ship at sea, and (2) he found the heights +of pyramids by means of the shadows thrown on the ground by the pyramid +and by a stick of known length at the same moment; one account says that +he chose the time when the lengths of the stick and of its shadow were +equal, but in either case he argued by similarity of triangles.</p> + +<p>In astronomy Thales predicted a solar eclipse which was probably that of +the 28th May 585 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> Now the Babylonians, as the result of +observations continued through centuries, had discovered the period of +223 lunations after which eclipses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +recur. It is most likely therefore that Thales had heard of this +period, and that his prediction was based upon it. He is further said to +have used the Little Bear for finding the pole, to have discovered the +inequality of the four astronomical seasons, and to have written works +<i>On the Equinox</i> and <i>On the Solstice</i>.</p> + +<p>After Thales come the Pythagoreans. Of the Pythagoreans Aristotle says +that they applied themselves to the study of mathematics and were the +first to advance that science, going so far as to find in the principles +of mathematics the principles of all existing things. Of Pythagoras +himself we are told that he attached supreme importance to the study of +arithmetic, advancing it and taking it out of the region of practical +utility, and again that he transformed the study of geometry into a +liberal education, examining the principles of the science from the +beginning.</p> + +<p>The very word <span class='t' title='mathêmata'>μαθηματα</span>, which originally meant ‘subjects +of instruction’ generally, is said to have been first appropriated +to mathematics by the Pythagoreans.</p> + +<p>In saying that arithmetic began with Pythagoras we have to distinguish +between the uses of that word then and now. <span class='t' title='Arithmêtikê'>Αριθμητικη</span> with +the Greeks was distinguished from <span class='t' title='logistikê'>λογιστικη</span>, the science of +calculation. It is the latter word which would cover arithmetic in our +sense, or practical calculation; the term <span class='t' title='arithmêtikê'>αριθμητικη</span> was +restricted to the science of numbers considered in themselves, or, as we +should say, the Theory of Numbers. Another way of putting the +distinction was to say that <span class='t' title='arithmêtikê'>αριθμητικη</span> dealt with absolute +numbers or numbers in the abstract, and <span class='t' title='logistikê'>λογιστικη</span> with numbered +<i>things</i> or concrete numbers; thus <span class='t' title='logistikê'>λογιστικη</span> included simple +problems about numbers of apples, bowls, or objects generally, such as +are found in the Greek Anthology and sometimes involve simple +algebraical equations.</p> + +<p>The Theory of Numbers then began with Pythagoras (about +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> 572-497 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). +It included definitions of the unit and of number, and the +classification and definitions of the various classes of numbers, odd, +even, prime, composite, and sub-divisions of these such as odd-even, +even-times-even, &c. Again there were figured numbers, namely, +triangular numbers, squares, oblong numbers, polygonal numbers +(pentagons, hexagons, &c.) corresponding respectively to plane figures, +and pyramidal numbers, cubes, parallelepipeds, &c., corresponding to +solid figures in geometry. The treatment was mostly geometrical, the +numbers being represented by dots filling up geometrical figures of the +various kinds. The laws of formation of the various figured numbers were +established. In this investigation the <i>gnomon</i> played an important +part. Originally meaning the upright needle of a sun-dial, the term was +next used for a figure like a carpenter’s square, and then was +applied to a figure of that shape put round two sides of a square and +making up a larger square. The arithmetical application of the term was +similar. If we represent a unit by one dot and put round it three dots +in such a way that the four form the corners of a square, <i>three</i> is the +first gnomon. <i>Five</i> dots put at equal distances round two sides of the +square containing four dots make up the next square (3²), and <i>five</i> is +the second gnomon. Generally, if we have <i>n²</i> dots so arranged as to +fill up a square with <i>n</i> for its side, the gnomon to be put round it to +make up the next square, <i>(n+1)²</i>, has <i>2n+1</i> dots. In the formation of +squares, therefore, the successive gnomons are the series of odd numbers +following 1 (the first square), namely 3, 5, 7, ... In the formation of +<i>oblong</i> numbers (numbers of the form <i>n(n+1))</i>, the first of which is +1. 2, the successive gnomons are the terms after 2 in the series of +<i>even</i> numbers 2, 4, 6.... Triangular numbers are formed by adding to 1 +(the first triangle) the terms after 1 in the series of natural numbers +1, 2, 3 ...; these are therefore the gnomons (by analogy) for triangles. +The gnomons for pentagonal numbers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> are the terms after 1 in the +arithmetical progression 1, 4, 7, 10 ... (with 3, or 5-2, as the common +difference) and so on; the common difference of the successive gnomons +for an <i>a</i>-gonal number is <i>a-2</i>.</p> + +<p>From the series of gnomons for squares we easily deduce a formula for +finding square numbers which are the sum of two squares. For, the gnomon +<i>2n+1</i> being the difference between the successive squares <i>n²</i> and +<i>(n+1)²</i>, we have only to make <i>2n+1</i> a square. Suppose that <i>2n+1=m²</i>; +therefore <i>n=½(m²-1)</i>, and <i>{½(m²-1)}²+m²={½(m²+1)}²</i>, where <i>m</i> is any +odd number. This is the formula actually attributed to Pythagoras.</p> + +<p>Pythagoras is said to have discovered the theory of proportionals or +proportion. This was a numerical theory and therefore was applicable to +commensurable magnitudes only; it was no doubt somewhat on the lines of +Euclid, Book VII. Connected with the theory of proportion was that of +<i>means</i>, and Pythagoras was acquainted with three of these, the +arithmetic, geometric, and sub-contrary (afterwards called harmonic). In +particular Pythagoras is said to have introduced from Babylon into +Greece the ‘most perfect’ proportion, namely:</p> + +<p class='c i'>a:(a+b)/2=2ab/(a+b):b,</p> + +<p class="noin">where the second and third terms are respectively the arithmetic and +harmonic mean between <i>a</i> and <i>b</i>. A particular case is 12:9=8:6.</p> + +<p>This bears upon what was probably Pythagoras’s greatest discovery, +namely that the musical intervals correspond to certain arithmetical +ratios between lengths of string at the same tension, the octave +corresponding to the ratio 2:1, the fifth to 3:2 and the fourth to 4:3. +These ratios being the same as those of 12 to 6, 8, 9 respectively, we +can understand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +how the third term, 8, in the above proportion came to +be called the ‘harmonic’ mean between 12 and 6.</p> + +<p>The Pythagorean arithmetic as a whole, with the developments made after +the time of Pythagoras himself, is mainly known to us through +Nicomachus’s <i>Introductio arithmetica</i>, Iamblichus’s +commentary on the same, and Theon of Smyrna’s work <i>Expositio +rerum mathematicarum ad legendum Platonem utilium</i>. The things in these +books most deserving of notice are the following.</p> + +<p>First, there is the description of a ‘perfect’ number (a +number which is equal to the sum of all its parts, i.e. all its integral +divisors including 1 but excluding the number itself), with a statement +of the property that all such numbers end in 6 or 8. Four such numbers, +namely 6, 28, 496, 8128, were known to Nicomachus. The law of formation +for such numbers is first found in Eucl. IX. 36 proving that, if the sum +<i>(S<sub>n</sub>)</i> of <i>n</i> terms of the series 1, 2, 2², 2³ ... is prime, then +<i>S<sub>n</sub>.2<sup>n-1</sup></i> is a perfect number.</p> + +<p>Secondly, Theon of Smyrna gives the law of formation of the series of +‘side-’ and ‘diameter-’ numbers which satisfy +the equations <i>2x²-y²=±1</i>. The law depends on the proposition proved in +Eucl. II. 10 to the effect that <i>(2x+y)²-2(x+y)²=2x²-y²</i>, whence it +follows that, if <i>x</i>, <i>y</i> satisfy either of the above equations, then +<i>2x+y</i>, <i>x+y</i> is a solution in higher numbers of the other equation. The +successive solutions give values for <i>y/x</i>, namely 1/1, 3/2, 7/5, 17/12, +41/29, ..., which are successive approximations to the value of √2 (the +ratio of the diagonal of a square to its side). The occasion for this +method of approximation to √2 (which can be carried as far as we please) +was the discovery by the Pythagoreans of the incommensurable or +irrational in this particular case.</p> + +<p>Thirdly, Iamblichus mentions a discovery by Thymaridas, a Pythagorean +not later than Plato’s time, called the <span class='t' title='epanthêma'>επανθημα</span> +(‘bloom’) of Thymaridas, and amounting to the solution<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> of +any number of simultaneous equations of the following form:</p> + +<p class='c i noin'>x+x<sub>1</sub> + x<sub>2</sub> + ... + x<sub>n-1</sub> = s,<br /> +x + x<sub>1</sub> = a<sub>1</sub>,<br /> +x + x<sub>2</sub> = a<sub>2</sub>,<br /> +....<br /> +x+x<sub>n-1</sub> = a<sub>n-1</sub>,<br /></p> + +<p class="noin">the solution being <i>x=((a<sub>1</sub>+a<sub>2</sub>+...+a<sub>n-1</sub>)-s)/(n-2)</i>.</p> + +<p>The rule is stated in general terms, but the above representation of its +effect shows that it is a piece of pure algebra.</p> + +<p>The Pythagorean contributions to geometry were even more remarkable. The +most famous proposition attributed to Pythagoras himself is of course +the theorem of Eucl. I. 47 that the square on the hypotenuse of any +right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the other +two sides. But Proclus also attributes to him, besides the theory of +proportionals, the construction of the ‘cosmic figures’, the +five regular solids.</p> + +<p>One of the said solids, the dodecahedron, has twelve regular pentagons +for faces, and the construction of a regular pentagon involves the +cutting of a straight line ‘in extreme and mean ratio’ +(Eucl. II. 11 and VI. 30), which is a particular case of the method +known as the <i>application of areas</i>. This method was fully worked out by +the Pythagoreans and proved one of the most powerful in all Greek +geometry. The most elementary case appears in Eucl. I. 44, 45, where it +is shown how to apply to a given straight line as base a parallelogram +with one angle equal to a given angle and equal in area to any given +rectilineal figure; this construction is the geometrical equivalent of +arithmetical <i>division</i>. The general case is that in which the +parallelogram, though applied to the straight line, overlaps it or falls +short of it in such a way that the part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> of the parallelogram which +extends beyond or falls short of the parallelogram of the same angle and +breadth on the given straight line itself (exactly) as base is similar +to any given parallelogram (Eucl. VI. 28, 29). This is the geometrical +equivalent of the solution of the most general form of quadratic +equation <i>ax±mx²=C</i>, so far as it has real roots; the condition that the +roots may be real was also worked out (=Eucl. VI. 27). It is in the form +of ‘application of areas’ that Apollonius obtains the +fundamental property of each of the conic sections, and, as we shall +see, it is from the terminology of application of areas that Apollonius +took the three names <i>parabola</i>, <i>hyperbola</i>, and <i>ellipse</i> which he was +the first to give to the three curves.</p> + +<p>Another problem solved by the Pythagoreans was that of drawing a +rectilineal figure which shall be equal in area to one given rectilineal +figure and similar to another. Plutarch mentions a doubt whether it was +this problem or the theorem of Eucl. I. 47 on the strength of which +Pythagoras was said to have sacrificed an ox.</p> + +<p>The main particular applications of the theorem of the square on the +hypotenuse, e. g. those in Euclid, Book II, were also Pythagorean; the +construction of a square equal to a given rectangle (Eucl. II. 14) is +one of them, and corresponds to the solution of the pure quadratic +equation <i>x²=ab</i>.</p> + +<p>The Pythagoreans knew the properties of parallels and proved the theorem +that the sum of the three angles of any triangle is equal to two right +angles.</p> + +<p>As we have seen, the Pythagorean theory of proportion, being numerical, +was inadequate in that it did not apply to incommensurable magnitudes; +but, with this qualification, we may say that the Pythagorean geometry +covered the bulk of the subject-matter of Books I, II, IV and VI of +Euclid’s <i>Elements</i>. The case is less clear with regard to Book +III of the <i>Elements</i>; but, as the main propositions of that Book were +known to Hippocrates of Chios in the second half of the fifth +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> century +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, we conclude that they, too, were part of the Pythagorean +geometry.</p> + +<p>Lastly, the Pythagoreans discovered the existence of the incommensurable +or irrational in the particular case of the diagonal of a square in +relation to its side. Aristotle mentions an ancient proof of the +incommensurability of the diagonal with the side by a <i>reductio ad +absurdum</i> showing that, if the diagonal were commensurable with the +side, it would follow that one and the same number is both odd and even. +This proof was doubtless Pythagorean.</p> + +<p>A word should be added about the Pythagorean astronomy. Pythagoras was +the first to hold that the earth (and no doubt each of the other +heavenly bodies also) is spherical in shape, and he was aware that the +sun, moon and planets have independent movements of their own in a sense +opposite to that of the daily rotation; but he seems to have kept the +earth in the centre. His successors in the school (one Hicetas of +Syracuse and Philolaus are alternatively credited with this innovation) +actually abandoned the geocentric idea and made the earth, like the sun, +the moon, and the other planets, revolve in a circle round the +‘central fire’, in which resided the governing principle +ordering and directing the movement of the universe.</p> + +<p>The geometry of which we have so far spoken belongs to the Elements. +But, before the body of the Elements was complete, the Greeks had +advanced beyond the Elements. By the second half of the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. +C.</span> they had investigated three famous problems in higher geometry, (1) +the squaring of the circle, (2) the trisection of any angle, (3) the +duplication of the cube. The great names belonging to this period are +Hippias of Elis, Hippocrates of Chios, and Democritus.</p> + +<p>Hippias of Elis invented a certain curve described by combining two +uniform movements (one angular and the other rectilinear) taking the +same time to complete. Hippias himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> used his curve for the +trisection of any angle or the division of it in any ratio; but it was +afterwards employed by Dinostratus, a brother of Eudoxus’s pupil +Menaechmus, and by Nicomedes for squaring the circle, whence it got the +name <span class='t' title='tetragônizousa'>τετραγωνιζουσα</span>, <i>quadratrix</i>.</p> + +<p>Hippocrates of Chios is mentioned by Aristotle as an instance to prove +that a man may be a distinguished geometer and, at the same time, a fool +in the ordinary affairs of life. He occupies an important place both in +elementary geometry and in relation to two of the higher problems above +mentioned. He was, so far as is known, the first compiler of a book of +Elements; and he was the first to prove the important theorem of Eucl. +XII. 2 that circles are to one another as the squares on their +diameters, from which he further deduced that similar segments of +circles are to one another as the squares on their bases. These +propositions were used by him in his tract on the squaring of <i>lunes</i>, +which was intended to lead up to the squaring of the circle. The +essential portions of the tract are preserved in a passage of +Simplicius’s commentary on Aristotle’s <i>Physics</i>, which +contains substantial extracts from Eudemus’s lost <i>History of +Geometry</i>. Hippocrates showed how to square three particular lunes of +different kinds and then, lastly, he squared the sum of a circle and a +certain lune. Unfortunately the last-mentioned lune was not one of those +which can be squared, so that the attempt to square the circle in this +way failed after all.</p> + +<p>Hippocrates also attacked the problem of doubling the cube. There are +two versions of the origin of this famous problem. According to one +story an old tragic poet had represented Minos as having been +dissatisfied with the size of a cubical tomb erected for his son Glaucus +and having told the architect to make it double the size while retaining +the cubical form. The other story says that the Delians, suffering from +a pestilence, consulted the oracle and were told to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> double a certain +altar as a means of staying the plague. Hippocrates did not indeed solve +the problem of duplication, but reduced it to another, namely that of +finding two mean proportionals in continued proportion between two given +straight lines; and the problem was ever afterwards attacked in this +form. If <i>x</i>, <i>y</i> be the two required mean proportionals between two +straight lines <i>a</i>, <i>b</i>, then <i>a:x=x:y=y:b</i>, whence <i>b/a=(x/a)³</i>, and, +as a particular case, if <i>b=2a</i>, <i>x³=2a³</i>, so that, when <i>x</i> is found, +the cube is doubled.</p> + +<p>Democritus wrote a large number of mathematical treatises, the titles +only of which are preserved. We gather from one of these titles, +‘On irrational lines and solids’, that he wrote on +irrationals. Democritus realized as fully as Zeno, and expressed with no +less piquancy, the difficulty connected with the continuous and the +infinitesimal. This appears from his dilemma about the circular base of +a cone and a parallel section; the section which he means is a section +‘indefinitely near’ (as the phrase is) to the base, i. e. +the <i>very next</i> section, as we might say (if there were one). Is it, +said Democritus, equal or not equal to the base? If it is equal, so will +the very next section to it be, and so on, so that the cone will really +be, not a cone, but a cylinder. If it is unequal to the base and in fact +less, the surface of the cone will be jagged, like steps, which is very +absurd. We may be sure that Democritus’s work on ‘The +contact of a circle or a sphere’ discussed a like difficulty.</p> + +<p>Lastly, Archimedes tells us that Democritus was the first to state, +though he could not give a rigorous proof, that the volume of a cone or +a pyramid is one-third of that of the cylinder or prism respectively on +the same base and having equal height, theorems first proved by Eudoxus.</p> + +<p>We come now to the time of Plato, and here the great names are Archytas, +Theodoras of Cyrene, Theaetetus, and Eudoxus.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +Archytas (about 430-360 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) wrote on music and the numerical ratios +corresponding to the intervals of the tetrachord. He is said to have +been the first to write a treatise on mechanics based on mathematical +principles; on the practical side he invented a mechanical dove which +would fly. In geometry he gave the first solution of the problem of the +two mean proportionals, using a wonderful construction in three +dimensions which determined a certain point as the intersection of three +surfaces, (1) a certain cone, (2) a half-cylinder, (3) an anchor-ring or +<i>tore</i> with inner diameter <i>nil</i>.</p> + +<p>Theodorus, Plato’s teacher in mathematics, extended the theory of +the irrational by proving incommensurability in certain particular cases +other than that of the diagonal of a square in relation to its side, +which was already known. He proved that the side of a square containing +3 square feet, or 5 square feet, or any non-square number of square feet +up to 17 is incommensurable with one foot, in other words that √3, √5 +... √17 are all incommensurable with 1. Theodorus’s proof was +evidently not general; and it was reserved for Theaetetus to comprehend +all these irrationals in one definition, and to prove the property +generally as it is proved in Eucl. X. 9. Much of the content of the rest +of Euclid’s Book X (dealing with compound irrationals), as also of +Book XIII on the five regular solids, was due to Theaetetus, who is even +said to have discovered two of those solids (the octahedron and +icosahedron).</p> + +<p>Plato (427-347 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) was probably not an original mathematician, but he +‘caused mathematics in general and geometry in particular to make +a great advance by reason of his enthusiasm for them’. He +encouraged the members of his school to specialize in mathematics and +astronomy; e. g. we are told that in astronomy he set it as a problem to +all earnest students to find ‘what are the uniform and ordered +movements by the assumption of which the apparent motions of the +planets<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +may be accounted for’. In Plato’s own writings are +found certain definitions, e. g. that of a straight line as ‘that +of which the middle covers the ends’, and some interesting +mathematical illustrations, especially that in the second geometrical +passage in the <i>Meno</i> (86E-87C). To Plato himself are attributed (1) a +formula <i>(n²-1)²+(2n)²=(n²+1)²</i> for finding two square numbers the sum +of which is a square number, (2) the invention of the method of +analysis, which he is said to have explained to Leodamas of Thasos +(<i>mathematical</i> analysis was, however, certainly, in practice, employed +long before). The solution, attributed to Plato, of the problem of the +two mean proportionals by means of a frame resembling that which a +shoemaker uses to measure a foot, can hardly be his.</p> + +<p>Eudoxus (408-355 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), an original genius second to none (unless it be +Archimedes) in the history of our subject, made two discoveries of +supreme importance for the further development of Greek geometry.</p> + +<p>(1) As we have seen, the discovery of the incommensurable rendered +inadequate the Pythagorean theory of proportion, which applied to +commensurable magnitudes only. It would no doubt be possible, in most +cases, to replace proofs depending on proportions by others; but this +involved great inconvenience, and a slur was cast on geometry generally. +The trouble was remedied once for all by Eudoxus’s discovery of +the great theory of proportion, applicable to commensurable and +incommensurable magnitudes alike, which is expounded in Euclid’s +Book V. Well might Barrow say of this theory that ‘there is +nothing in the whole body of the elements of a more subtile invention, +nothing more solidly established’. The keystone of the structure +is the definition of equal ratios (Eucl. V, Def. 5); and twenty-three +centuries have not abated a jot from its value, as is plain from the +facts that Weierstrass repeats it word for word as his definition of +equal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +numbers, and it corresponds almost to the point of coincidence +with the modern treatment of irrationals due to Dedekind.</p> + +<p>(2) Eudoxus discovered the method of exhaustion for measuring +curvilinear areas and solids, to which, with the extensions given to it +by Archimedes, Greek geometry owes its greatest triumphs. Antiphon the +Sophist, in connexion with attempts to square the circle, had asserted +that, if we inscribe successive regular polygons in a circle, +continually doubling the number of sides, we shall sometime arrive at a +polygon the sides of which will coincide with the circumference of the +circle. Warned by the unanswerable arguments of Zeno against +infinitesimals, mathematicians substituted for this the statement that, +by continuing the construction, we can inscribe a polygon approaching +equality with the circle <i>as nearly as we please</i>. The method of +exhaustion used, for the purpose of proof by <i>reductio ad absurdum</i>, the +lemma proved in Eucl. X. 1 (to the effect that, if from any magnitude we +subtract not less than half, and then from the remainder not less than +half, and so on continually, there will sometime be left a magnitude +less than any assigned magnitude of the same kind, however small): and +this again depends on an assumption which is practically contained in +Eucl. V, Def. 4, but is generally known as the Axiom of Archimedes, +stating that, if we have two unequal magnitudes, their difference +(however small) can, if continually added to itself, be made to exceed +any magnitude of the same kind (however great).</p> + +<p>The method of exhaustion is seen in operation in Eucl. XII. 1-2, 3-7 +Cor., 10, 16-18. Props. 3-7 Cor. and Prop. 10 prove that the volumes of +a pyramid and a cone are one-third of the prism and cylinder +respectively on the same base and of equal height; and Archimedes +expressly says that these facts were first proved by Eudoxus.</p> + +<p>In astronomy Eudoxus is famous for the beautiful theory of concentric +spheres which he invented to explain the apparent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> motions of the +planets and, particularly, their apparent stationary points and +retrogradations. The theory applied also to the sun and moon, for each +of which Eudoxus employed three spheres. He represented the motion of +each planet as produced by the rotations of four spheres concentric with +the earth, one within the other, and connected in the following way. +Each of the inner spheres revolves about a diameter the ends of which +(poles) are fixed on the next sphere enclosing it. The outermost sphere +represents the daily rotation, the second a motion along the zodiac +circle; the poles of the third sphere are fixed on the latter circle; +the poles of the fourth sphere (carrying the planet fixed on its +equator) are so fixed on the third sphere, and the speeds and directions +of rotation so arranged, that the planet describes on the second sphere +a curve called the <i>hippopede</i> (horse-fetter), or a figure of eight, +lying along and longitudinally bisected by the zodiac circle. The whole +arrangement is a marvel of geometrical ingenuity.</p> + +<p>Heraclides of Pontus (about 388-315 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), a pupil of Plato, made a +great step forward in astronomy by his declaration that the earth +rotates on its own axis once in 24 hours, and by his discovery that +Mercury and Venus revolve about the sun like satellites.</p> + +<p>Menaechmus, a pupil of Eudoxus, was the discoverer of the conic +sections, two of which, the parabola and the hyperbola, he used for +solving the problem of the two mean proportionals. If <i>a:x=x:y=y:b</i>, +then <i>x²=ay</i>, <i>y²=bx</i> and <i>xy=ab</i>. These equations represent, in +Cartesian co-ordinates, and with rectangular axes, the conics by the +intersection of which two and two Menaechmus solved the problem; in the +case of the rectangular hyperbola it was the asymptote-property which he +used.</p> + +<p>We pass to Euclid’s times. A little older than Euclid, Autolycus +of Pitane wrote two books, <i>On the Moving Sphere</i>, a work on Sphaeric +for use in astronomy, and <i>On Risings and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> Settings</i>. The former work is +the earliest Greek textbook which has reached us intact. It was before +Euclid when he wrote his <i>Phaenomena</i>, and there are many points of +contact between the two books.</p> + +<p>Euclid flourished about 300 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> or a little earlier. His great work, +the <i>Elements</i> in thirteen Books, is too well known to need description. +No work presumably, except the Bible, has had such a reign; and future +generations will come back to it again and again as they tire of the +variegated substitutes for it and the confusion resulting from their +bewildering multiplicity. After what has been said above of the growth +of the Elements, we can appreciate the remark of Proclus about Euclid, +‘who put together the Elements, collecting many of Eudoxus’s +theorems, perfecting many of Theaetetus’s and also bringing to +irrefragable demonstration the things which were only somewhat loosely +proved by his predecessors’. Though a large portion of the +subject-matter had been investigated by those predecessors, everything +goes to show that the whole arrangement was Euclid’s own; it is +certain that he made great changes in the order of propositions and in +the proofs, and that his innovations began at the very beginning of Book +I.</p> + +<p>Euclid wrote other books on both elementary and higher geometry, and on +the other mathematical subjects known in his day. The elementary +geometrical works include the <i>Data</i> and <i>On Divisions</i> (<i>of figures</i>), +the first of which survives in Greek and the second in Arabic only; also +the <i>Pseudaria</i>, now lost, which was a sort of guide to fallacies in +geometrical reasoning. The treatises on higher geometry are all lost; +they include (1) the <i>Conics</i> in four Books, which covered almost the +same ground as the first three Books of Apollonius’s <i>Conics</i>, +although no doubt, for Euclid, the conics were still, as with his +predecessors, sections of a right-angled, an obtuse-angled, and an +acute-angled cone respectively made by a plane perpendiular +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> to a +generator in each case; (2) the <i>Porisms</i> in three Books, the importance +and difficulty of which can be inferred from Pappus’s account of +it and the lemmas which he gives for use with it; (3) the +<i>Surface-Loci</i>, to which again Pappus furnishes lemmas; one of these +implies that Euclid assumed as known the focus-directrix property of the +three conics, which is absent from Apollonius’s <i>Conics</i>.</p> + +<p>In applied mathematics Euclid wrote (1) the <i>Phaenomena</i>, a work on +spherical astronomy in which <span class='t' title='ho horizôn'>ὁ ὁριζων</span> (without +<span class='t' title='kyklos'>κυκλος</span> or any qualifying words) appears for the first time in the sense +of <i>horizon</i>; (2) the <i>Optics</i>, a kind of elementary treatise on +perspective: these two treatises are extant in Greek; (3) a work on the +Elements of Music. The <i>Sectio Canonis</i>, which has come down under the +name of Euclid, can, however, hardly be his in its present form.</p> + +<p>In the period between Euclid and Archimedes comes Aristarchus of Samos +(about 310-230 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), famous for having anticipated Copernicus. +Accepting Heraclides’s view that the earth rotates about its own +axis, Aristarchus went further and put forward the hypothesis that the +sun itself is at rest, and that the earth, as well as Mercury, Venus, +and the other planets, revolve in circles about the sun. We have this on +the unquestionable authority of Archimedes, who was only some +twenty-five years later, and who must have seen the book containing the +hypothesis in question. We are told too that Cleanthes the Stoic thought +that Aristarchus ought to be indicted on the charge of impiety for +setting the Hearth of the Universe in motion.</p> + +<p>One work of Aristarchus, <i>On the sizes and distances of the Sun and +Moon</i>, which is extant in Greek, is highly interesting in itself, though +it contains no word of the heliocentric hypothesis. Thoroughly classical +in form and style, it lays down certain hypotheses and then deduces +therefrom, by rigorous geometry, the sizes and distances of the sun and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +moon. If the hypotheses had been exact, the results would have been +correct too; but Aristarchus in fact assumed a certain angle to be 87° +which is really 89° 50', and the angle subtended at the centre of the +earth by the diameter of either the sun or the moon to be 2°, whereas we +know from Archimedes that Aristarchus himself discovered that the latter +angle is only ½°. The effect of Aristarchus’s geometry is to find +arithmetical limits to the values of what are really trigonometrical +ratios of certain small angles, namely</p> + +<p class="c noin">1/18 > sin 3° > 1/20, 1/45 > sin 1° > 1/60, 1 > cos 1° > 89/90.</p> + +<p class="noin">The main results obtained are (1) that the diameter of the sun is +between 18 and 20 times the diameter of the moon, (2) that the diameter +of the moon is between 2/45ths and 1/30th of the distance of the centre +of the moon from our eye, and (3) that the diameter of the sun is +between 19/3rds and 43/6ths of the diameter of the earth. The book +contains a good deal of arithmetical calculation.</p> + +<p>Archimedes was born about 287 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> and was killed at the sack of +Syracuse by Marcellus’s army in 212 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> The stories about him +are well known, how he said ‘Give me a place to stand on, and I +will move the earth’ (<span class='t' title='pa bô kai kinô tan gan'>πα βω και κινω ταν γαν</span>; how, +having thought of the solution of the problem of the crown when in the +bath, he ran home naked shouting <span class='t' title='heurêka, heurêka'>ἑυρηκα, ἑυρηκα</span>; and how, the +capture of Syracuse having found him intent on a figure drawn on the +ground, he said to a Roman soldier who came up, ‘Stand away, +fellow, from my diagram.’ Of his work few people know more than +that he invented a tubular screw which is still used for pumping water, +and that for a long time he foiled the attacks of the Romans on Syracuse +by the mechanical devices and engines which he used against them. But he +thought meanly of these things, and his real interest was in pure +mathematical speculation; he caused to be engraved on his tomb a +representation of a cylinder circumscribing +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> a sphere, with the ratio +3/2 which the cylinder bears to the sphere: from which we infer that he +regarded this as his greatest discovery.</p> + +<p>Archimedes’s works are all original, and are perfect models of +mathematical exposition; their wide range will be seen from the list of +those which survive: <i>On the Sphere and Cylinder</i> I, II, <i>Measurement of +a Circle</i>, <i>On Conoids and Spheroids</i>, <i>On Spirals</i>, <i>On Plane +Equilibriums</i> I, II, the <i>Sandreckoner</i>, <i>Quadrature of the Parabola</i>, +<i>On Floating Bodies</i> I, II, and lastly the <i>Method</i> (only discovered in +1906). The difficult Cattle-Problem is also attributed to him, and a +<i>Liber Assumptorum</i> which has reached us through the Arabic, but which +cannot be his in its present form, although some of the propositions in +it (notably that about the ‘Salinon’, salt-cellar, and +others about circles inscribed in the <span class='t' title='arbêlos'>αρβηλος</span>, +shoemaker’s knife) are quite likely to be of Archimedean origin. +Among lost works were the <i>Catoptrica</i>, <i>On Sphere-making</i>, and +investigations into polyhedra, including thirteen semi-regular solids, +the discovery of which is attributed by Pappus to Archimedes.</p> + +<p>Speaking generally, the geometrical works are directed to the +measurement of curvilinear areas and volumes; and Archimedes employs a +method which is a development of Eudoxus’s method of exhaustion. +Eudoxus apparently approached the figure to be measured from below only, +i. e. by means of figures successively inscribed to it. Archimedes +approaches it from both sides by successively inscribing figures and +circumscribing others also, thereby compressing them, as it were, until +they coincide as nearly as we please with the figure to be measured. In +many cases his procedure is, when the analytical equivalents are set +down, seen to amount to real <i>integration</i>; this is so with his +investigation of the areas of a parabolic segment and a spiral, the +surface and volume of a sphere, and the volume of any segments of the +conoids and spheroids.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +The newly-discovered <i>Method</i> is especially interesting as showing how +Archimedes originally obtained his results; this was by a clever +mechanical method of (theoretically) <i>weighing</i> infinitesimal elements +of the figure to be measured against elements of another figure the area +or content of which (as the case may be) is known; it amounts to an +<i>avoidance</i> of integration. Archimedes, however, would only admit that +the mechanical method is useful for finding results; he did not consider +them proved until they were established geometrically.</p> + +<p>In the <i>Measurement of a Circle</i>, after proving by exhaustion that the +area of a circle is equal to a right-angled triangle with the +perpendicular sides equal respectively to the radius and the +circumference of the circle, Archimedes finds, by sheer calculation, +upper and lower limits to the ratio of the circumference of a circle to +its diameter (what we call <span class='t' title='p'>π</span>). This he does by inscribing and +circumscribing regular polygons of 96 sides and calculating +approximately their respective perimeters. He begins by assuming as +known certain approximate values for √3, namely 1351/780 > √3 > 265/153, +and his calculations involve approximating to the square roots of +several large numbers (up to seven digits). The text only gives the +results, but it is evident that the extraction of square roots presented +no difficulty, notwithstanding the comparative inconvenience of the +alphabetic system of numerals. The result obtained is well known, namely +3-1/7 > <span class='t' title='p'>π</span> > 3-10/71.</p> + +<p>The <i>Plane Equilibriums</i> is the first scientific treatise on the first +principles of mechanics, which are established by pure geometry. The +most important result established in Book I is the principle of the +lever. This was known to Plato and Aristotle, but they had no real +proof. The Aristotelian <i>Mechanics</i> merely ‘refers’ the +lever ‘to the circle’, asserting that the force which acts +at the greater distance from the fulcrum moves the system more easily +because it describes a greater circle. Archimedes also finds the centre +of gravity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +of a parallelogram, a triangle, a trapezium and finally (in +Book II) of a parabolic segment and of a portion of it cut off by a +straight line parallel to the base.</p> + +<p>The <i>Sandreckoner</i> is remarkable for the development in it of a system +for expressing very large numbers by <i>orders</i> and <i>periods</i> based on +powers of myriad-myriads (10,000²). It also contains the important +reference to the heliocentric theory of the universe put forward by +Aristarchus of Samos in a book of ‘hypotheses’, as well as +historical details of previous attempts to measure the size of the earth +and to give the sizes and distances of the sun and moon.</p> + +<p>Lastly, Archimedes invented the whole science of hydrostatics. Beginning +the treatise <i>On Floating Bodies</i> with an assumption about uniform +pressure in a fluid, he first proves that the surface of a fluid at rest +is a sphere with its centre at the centre of the earth. Other +propositions show that, if a solid floats in a fluid, the weight of the +solid is equal to that of the fluid displaced, and, if a solid heavier +than a fluid is weighed in it, it will be lighter than its true weight +by the weight of the fluid displaced. Then, after a second assumption +that bodies which are forced upwards in a fluid are forced upwards along +the perpendiculars to the surface which pass through their centres of +gravity, Archimedes deals with the position of rest and stability of a +segment of a sphere floating in a fluid with its base entirely above or +entirely below the surface. Book II is an extraordinary <i>tour de force</i>, +investigating fully all the positions of rest and stability of a right +segment of a paraboloid floating in a fluid according (1) to the +relation between the axis of the solid and the parameter of the +generating parabola, and (2) to the specific gravity of the solid in +relation to the fluid; the term ‘specific gravity’ is not +used, but the idea is fully expressed in other words.</p> + +<p>Almost contemporary with Archimedes was Eratosthenes of Cyrene, to whom +Archimedes dedicated the <i>Method</i>; the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> preface to this work shows that +Archimedes thought highly of his mathematical ability. He was indeed +recognized by his contemporaries as a man of great distinction in all +branches, though the names Beta and Pentathlos<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> applied to him +indicate that he just fell below the first rank in each subject. Ptolemy +Euergetes appointed him to be tutor to his son (Philopator), and he +became librarian at Alexandria; he recognized his obligation to Ptolemy +by erecting a column with a graceful epigram. In this epigram he +referred to the earlier solutions of the problem of duplicating the cube +or finding the two mean proportionals, and advocated his own in +preference, because it would give any number of means; on the column was +fixed a bronze representation of his appliance, a frame with +right-angled triangles (or rectangles) movable along two parallel +grooves and over one another, together with a condensed proof. The +<i>Platonicus</i> of Eratosthenes evidently dealt with the fundamental +notions of mathematics in connexion with Plato’s philosophy, and +seems to have begun with the story of the origin of the duplication +problem.</p> + +<p>The most famous achievement of Eratosthenes was his measurement of the +earth. Archimedes quotes an earlier measurement which made the +circumference of the earth 300,000 stades. Eratosthenes improved upon +this. He observed that at the summer solstice at Syene, at noon, the sun +cast no shadow, while at the same moment the upright gnomon at +Alexandria cast a shadow corresponding to an angle between the gnomon +and the sun’s rays of 1/50th of four right angles. The distance +between Syene and Alexandria being known to be 5,000 stades, this gave +for the circumference of the earth 250,000 stades, which Eratosthenes +seems later, for some reason, to have changed to 252,000 stades. On the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +most probable assumption as to the length of the stade used, the 252,000 +stades give about 7,850 miles, only 50 miles less than the true polar +diameter.</p> + +<p>In the work <i>On the Measurement of the Earth</i> Eratosthenes is said to +have discussed other astronomical matters, the distance of the tropic +and polar circles, the sizes and distances of the sun and moon, total +and partial eclipses, &c. Besides other works on astronomy and +chronology, Eratosthenes wrote a <i>Geographica</i> in three books, in which +he first gave a history of geography up to date and then passed on to +mathematical geography, the spherical shape of the earth, &c., &c.</p> + +<p>Apollonius of Perga was with justice called by his contemporaries the +‘Great Geometer’, on the strength of his great treatise, the +<i>Conics</i>. He is mentioned as a famous astronomer of the reign of Ptolemy +Euergetes (247-222 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>); and he dedicated the fourth and later Books +of the <i>Conics</i> to King Attalus I of Pergamum (241-197 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>).</p> + +<p>The <i>Conics</i>, a colossal work, originally in eight Books, survives as to +the first four Books in Greek and as to three more in Arabic, the eighth +being lost. From Apollonius’s prefaces we can judge of the +relation of his work to Euclid’s <i>Conics</i>, the content of which +answered to the first three Books of Apollonius. Although Euclid knew +that an ellipse could be otherwise produced, e. g. as an oblique section +of a right cylinder, there is no doubt that he produced all three conics +from right cones like his predecessors. Apollonius, however, obtains +them in the most general way by cutting any oblique cone, and his +original axes of reference, a diameter and the tangent at its extremity, +are in general oblique; the fundamental properties are found with +reference to these axes by ‘application of areas’, the three +varieties of which, <i>application</i> (<span class='t' title='parabolê'>παραβολη</span>), application with +an <i>excess</i> (<span class='t' title='hyperbolê'>ὑπερβολη</span>) and application with a <i>deficiency</i> +(<span class='t' title='elleipsis'>ελλειψις</span>), give the properties of the three curves +respectively and account for the names<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +<i>parabola</i>, <i>hyperbola</i>, and <i>ellipse</i>, by which Apollonius called them +for the first time. The principal axes only appear, as a particular +case, after it has been shown that the curves have a like property when +referred to any other diameter and the tangent at its extremity, instead +of those arising out of the original construction. The first four Books +constitute what Apollonius calls an elementary introduction; the +remaining Books are specialized investigations, the most important being +Book V (on normals) and Book VII (mainly on conjugate diameters). +Normals are treated, not in connexion with tangents, but as <i>minimum</i> or +<i>maximum</i> straight lines drawn to the curves from different points or +classes of points. Apollonius discusses such questions as the number of +normals that can be drawn from one point (according to its position) and +the construction of all such normals. Certain propositions of great +difficulty enable us to deduce quite easily the Cartesian equations to +the <i>evolutes</i> of the three conics.</p> + +<p>Several other works of Apollonius are described by Pappus as forming +part of the ‘Treasury of Analysis’. All are lost except the +<i>Sectio Rationis</i> in two Books, which survives in Arabic and was +published in a Latin translation by Halley in 1706. It deals with all +possible cases of the general problem ‘given two straight lines +either parallel or intersecting, and a fixed point on each, to draw +through any given point a straight line which shall cut off intercepts +from the two lines (measured from the fixed points) bearing a given +ratio to one another’. The lost treatise <i>Sectio Spatii</i> dealt +similarly with the like problem in which the intercepts cut off have to +contain a given rectangle.</p> + +<p>The other treatises included in Pappus’s account are (1) On +<i>Determinate Section</i>; (2) <i>Contacts</i> or <i>Tangencies</i>, Book II of which +is entirely devoted to the problem of drawing a circle to touch three +given circles (Apollonius’s solution can, with the aid of +Pappus’s auxiliary propositions, be satisfactorily +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> restored); (3) +<i>Plane Loci</i>, i. e. loci which are straight lines or circles; (4) +<span class='t' title='Neuseis'>Νευσεις</span>, <i>Inclinationes</i> (the general problem called a +<span class='t' title='neusis'>νευσις</span> being to insert between two lines, straight or curved, a +straight line of given length <i>verging</i> to a given point, i. e. so that, +if produced, it passes through the point, Apollonius restricted himself +to cases which could be solved by ‘plane’ methods, i. e. by +the straight line and circle only).</p> + +<p>Apollonius is also said to have written (5) a <i>Comparison of the +dodecahedron with the icosahedron</i> (inscribed in the same sphere), in +which he proved that their surfaces are in the same ratio as their +volumes; (6) <i>On the cochlias</i> or cylindrical helix; (7) a +‘General Treatise’, which apparently dealt with the +fundamental assumptions, &c., of elementary geometry; (8) a work on +<i>unordered irrationals</i>, i. e. irrationals of more complicated form than +those of Eucl. Book X; (9) <i>On the burning-mirror</i>, dealing with +spherical mirrors and probably with mirrors of parabolic section also; +(10) <span class='t' title='ôkytokion'>ωκυτοκιον</span> (‘quick delivery’). In the +last-named work Apollonius found an approximation to <span class='t' title='p'>π</span> closer +than that in Archimedes’s <i>Measurement of a Circle</i>; and possibly +the book also contained Apollonius’s exposition of his notation +for large numbers according to ‘tetrads’ (successive powers +of the myriad).</p> + +<p>In astronomy Apollonius is said to have made special researches +regarding the moon, and to have been called <span class='t' title='e'>ε</span> (Epsilon) because +the form of that letter is associated with the moon. He was also a +master of the theory of epicycles and eccentrics.</p> + +<p>With Archimedes and Apollonius Greek geometry reached its culminating +point; indeed, without some more elastic notation and machinery such as +algebra provides, geometry was practically at the end of its resources. +For some time, however, there were capable geometers who kept up the +tradition, filling in details, devising alternative solutions of +problems, or discovering new curves for use or investigation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +Nicomedes, probably intermediate in date between Eratosthenes and +Apollonius, was the inventor of the <i>conchoid</i> or <i>cochloid</i>, of which, +according to Pappus, there were three varieties. Diocles (about the end +of the second century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) is known as the discoverer of the <i>cissoid</i> +which was used for duplicating the cube. He also wrote a book <span class='t' title='peri pyreiôn'>περι πυρειων</span>, +<i>On burning-mirrors</i>, which probably discussed, among +other forms of mirror, surfaces of parabolic or elliptic section, and +used the focal properties of the two conics; it was in this work that +Diocles gave an independent and clever solution (by means of an ellipse +and a rectangular hyperbola) of Archimedes’s problem of cutting a +sphere into two segments in a given ratio. Dionysodorus gave a solution +by means of conics of the auxiliary cubic equation to which Archimedes +reduced this problem; he also found the solid content of a <i>tore</i> or +anchor-ring.</p> + +<p>Perseus is known as the discoverer and investigator of the <i>spiric +sections</i>, i. e. certain sections of the <span class='t' title='speira'>σπειρα</span>, one variety of +which is the <i>tore</i>. The <i>spire</i> is generated by the revolution of a +circle about a straight line in its plane, which straight line may +either be external to the circle (in which case the figure produced is +the tore), or may cut or touch the circle.</p> + +<p>Zenodorus was the author of a treatise on <i>Isometric figures</i>, the +problem in which was to compare the content of different figures, plane +or solid, having equal contours or surfaces respectively.</p> + +<p>Hypsicles (second half of second century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) wrote what became known +as ‘Book XIV’ of the <i>Elements</i> containing supplementary +propositions on the regular solids (partly drawn from Aristaeus and +Apollonius); he seems also to have written on polygonal numbers. A +mediocre astronomical work (<span class='t' title='Anaphorikos'>Αναφορικος</span>) attributed to him is +the first Greek book in which we find the division of the zodiac circle +into 360 parts or degrees.</p> + +<p>Posidonius the Stoic (about 135-51 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) wrote on geography +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> and +astronomy under the titles <i>On the Ocean</i> and <span class='t' title='peri meteôrôn'>περι μετεωρων</span>. He +made a new but faulty calculation of the circumference of the earth +(240,000 stades). <i>Per contra</i>, in a separate tract on the size of the +sun (in refutation of the Epicurean view that it is as big as it +<i>looks</i>), he made assumptions (partly guesswork) which give for the +diameter of the sun a figure of 3,000,000 stades (39-1/4 times the +diameter of the earth), a result much nearer the truth than those +obtained by Aristarchus, Hipparchus, and Ptolemy. In elementary geometry +Posidonius gave certain definitions (notably of parallels, based on the +idea of equidistance).</p> + +<p>Geminus of Rhodes, a pupil of Posidonius, wrote (about 70 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) an +encyclopaedic work on the classification and content of mathematics, +including the history of each subject, from which Proclus and others +have preserved notable extracts. An-Nairīzī (an Arabian commentator on +Euclid) reproduces an attempt by one ‘Aganis’, who appears +to be Geminus, to prove the parallel-postulate.</p> + +<p>But from this time onwards the study of higher geometry (except +sphaeric) seems to have languished, until that admirable mathematician, +Pappus, arose (towards the end of the third century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>) to revive +interest in the subject. From the way in which, in his great +<i>Collection</i>, Pappus thinks it necessary to describe in detail the +contents of the classical works belonging to the ‘Treasury of +Analysis’ we gather that by his time many of them had been lost or +forgotten, and that he aimed at nothing less than re-establishing +geometry at its former level. No one could have been better qualified +for the task. Presumably such interest as Pappus was able to arouse soon +flickered out; but his <i>Collection</i> remains, after the original works of +the great mathematicians, the most comprehensive and valuable of all our +sources, being a handbook or guide to Greek geometry and covering +practically the whole field. Among the original things in Pappus’s +<i>Collection</i> is an enunciation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +which amounts to an anticipation of what is known as Guldin’s +Theorem.</p> + +<p>It remains to speak of three subjects, trigonometry (represented by +Hipparchus, Menelaus, and Ptolemy), mensuration (in Heron of +Alexandria), and algebra (Diophantus).</p> + +<p>Although, in a sense, the beginnings of trigonometry go back to +Archimedes (<i>Measurement of a Circle</i>), Hipparchus was the first person +who can be proved to have used trigonometry systematically. Hipparchus, +the greatest astronomer of antiquity, whose observations were made +between 161 and 126 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, discovered the precession of the equinoxes, +calculated the mean lunar month at 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 2½ +seconds (which differs by less than a second from the present accepted +figure!), made more correct estimates of the sizes and distances of the +sun and moon, introduced great improvements in the instruments used for +observations, and compiled a catalogue of some 850 stars; he seems to +have been the first to state the position of these stars in terms of +latitude and longitude (in relation to the ecliptic). He wrote a +treatise in twelve Books on Chords in a Circle, equivalent to a table of +trigonometrical sines. For calculating arcs in astronomy from other arcs +given by means of tables he used propositions in spherical trigonometry.</p> + +<p>The <i>Sphaerica</i> of Theodosius of Bithynia (written, say, 20 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) +contains no trigonometry. It is otherwise with the <i>Sphaerica</i> of +Menelaus (fl. <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 100) extant in Arabic; Book I of this work contains +propositions about spherical triangles corresponding to the main +propositions of Euclid about plane triangles (e.g. congruence theorems +and the proposition that in a spherical triangle the three angles are +together greater than two right angles), while Book III contains genuine +spherical trigonometry, consisting of ‘Menelaus’s +Theorem’ with reference to the sphere and deductions therefrom.</p> + +<p>Ptolemy’s great work, the <i>Syntaxis</i>, written about +<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 150<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> and +originally called <span class='t' title='Mathêmatikê syntaxis'>Μαθηματικη συνταξις</span>, came to be known as +<span class='t' title='Megalê syntaxis'>Μεγαλη συνταξις</span>; the Arabs made up from the superlative +<span class='t' title='megistos'>μεγιστος</span> the word al-Majisti which became <i>Almagest</i>.</p> + +<p>Book I, containing the necessary preliminaries to the study of the +Ptolemaic system, gives a Table of Chords in a circle subtended by +angles at the centre of ½° increasing by half-degrees to 180°. The +circle is divided into 360 <span class='t' title='moirai'>μοιραι</span>, parts or degrees, and the +diameter into 120 parts (<span class='t' title='tmêmata'>τμηματα</span>); the chords are given in +terms of the latter with sexagesimal fractions (e. g. the chord +subtended by an angle of 120° is 103<sup>p</sup> 53′ 23″). The Table of Chords +is equivalent to a table of the <i>sines</i> of the halves of the angles in +the table, for, if (crd. 2 <span class='t' title='a'>α</span>) represents the chord subtended by +an angle of 2 <span class='t' title='a'>α</span> (crd. 2 <span class='t' title='a'>α</span>)/120 = sin <span class='t' title='a'>α</span>. +Ptolemy first gives the minimum number of geometrical propositions +required for the calculation of the chords. The first of these finds +(crd. 36°) and (crd. 72°) from the geometry of the inscribed pentagon +and decagon; the second (‘Ptolemy’s Theorem’ about a +quadrilateral in a circle) is equivalent to the formula for +sin (<span class='t' title='th-ph'>θ-φ</span>), the third to that for sin ½ <span class='t' title='th'>θ</span>. From (crd. +72°) and (crd. 60°) Ptolemy, by using these propositions successively, +deduces (crd. 1½°) and (crd. ¾°), from which he obtains (crd. 1°) by a +clever interpolation. To complete the table he only needs his fourth +proposition, which is equivalent to the formula for cos (<span class='t' title='th+ph'>θ+φ</span>).</p> + +<p>Ptolemy wrote other minor astronomical works, most of which survive in +Greek or Arabic, an <i>Optics</i> in five Books (four Books almost complete +were translated into Latin in the twelfth century), and an attempted +proof of the parallel-postulate which is reproduced by Proclus.</p> + +<p>Heron of Alexandria (date uncertain; he may have lived as late as the +third century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>) was an almost encyclopaedic writer on mathematical +and physical subjects. He aimed at practical utility rather than +theoretical completeness; hence, apart from the interesting collection +of <i>Definitions</i> which has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +come down under his name, and his commentary on Euclid which is +represented only by extracts in Proclus and an-Nairīzī, his geometry is +mostly mensuration in the shape of numerical examples worked out. As +these could be indefinitely multiplied, there was a temptation to add to +them and to use Heron’s name. However much of the separate works +edited by Hultsch (the <i>Geometrica</i>, <i>Geodaesia</i>, <i>Stereometrica</i>, +<i>Mensurae</i>, <i>Liber geëponicus</i>) is genuine, we must now regard as +more authoritative the genuine <i>Metrica</i> discovered at Constantinople in +1896 and edited by H. Schöne in 1903 (Teubner). Book I on the +measurement of areas is specially interesting for (1) its statement of +the formula used by Heron for finding approximations to surds, (2) the +elegant geometrical proof of the formula for the area of a triangle +<span class='t' title='D'>Δ</span> = √{<i>s</i> (<i>s</i>-<i>a</i>) (<i>s</i>-<i>b</i>) (<i>s</i>-<i>c</i>)}, +a formula now known to be due to Archimedes, (3) an allusion to limits +to the value of <span class='t' title='p'>π</span> found by Archimedes and more exact than the 3-1/7 and +3-10/71 obtained in the <i>Measurement of a Circle</i>.</p> + +<p>Book I of the <i>Metrica</i> calculates the areas of triangles, +quadrilaterals, the regular polygons up to the dodecagon (the areas even +of the heptagon, enneagon, and hendecagon are approximately evaluated), +the circle and a segment of it, the ellipse, a parabolic segment, and +the surfaces of a cylinder, a right cone, a sphere and a segment +thereof. Book II deals with the measurement of solids, the cylinder, +prisms, pyramids and cones and frusta thereof, the sphere and a segment +of it, the anchor-ring or tore, the five regular solids, and finally the +two special solids of Archimedes’s <i>Method</i>; full use is made of +all Archimedes’s results. Book III is on the division of figures. +The plane portion is much on the lines of Euclid’s <i>Divisions</i> (of +figures). The solids divided in given ratios are the sphere, the +pyramid, the cone and a frustum thereof. Incidentally Heron shows how he +obtained an approximation to the cube root of a non-cube number (100). +Quadratic equations are solved by Heron by a regular rule not unlike +our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +method, and the <i>Geometrica</i> contains two interesting indeterminate +problems.</p> + +<p>Heron also wrote <i>Pneumatica</i> (where the reader will find such things as +siphons, Heron’s Fountain, penny-in-the-slot machines, a +fire-engine, a water-organ, and many arrangements employing the force of +steam), <i>Automaton-making</i>, <i>Belopoeïca</i> (on engines of war), +<i>Catoptrica</i>, and <i>Mechanics</i>. The <i>Mechanics</i> has been edited from the +Arabic; it is (except for considerable fragments) lost in Greek. It +deals with the puzzle of ‘Aristotle’s Wheel’, the +parallelogram of velocities, definitions of, and problems on, the centre +of gravity, the distribution of weights between several supports, the +five mechanical powers, mechanics in daily life (queries and answers). +Pappus covers much the same ground in Book VIII of his <i>Collection</i>.</p> + +<p>We come, lastly, to Algebra. Problems involving simple equations are +found in the Papyrus Rhind, in the <i>Epanthema</i> of Thymaridas already +referred to, and in the arithmetical epigrams in the Greek Anthology +(Plato alludes to this class of problem in the <i>Laws</i>, 819 B, C); the +Anthology even includes two cases of indeterminate equations of the +first degree. The Pythagoreans gave general solutions in rational +numbers of the equations <i>x²+y²=z²</i> and <i>2x²-y²=±1</i>, which are +indeterminate equations of the second degree.</p> + +<p>The first to make systematic use of symbols in algebraical work was +Diophantus of Alexandria (fl. about <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 250). He used (1) a sign for +the unknown quantity, which he calls <span class='t' title='arithmos'>αριθμος</span>, and compendia +for its powers up to the sixth; (2) a sign (<img src="images/symbol-minus.png" width="2%" alt="symbol-minus.png" title="" />) +with the effect of our <i>minus</i>. The latter sign +probably represents <span class='t' title='LI'>ΛΙ</span>, an abbreviation for the root of the +word <span class='t' title='leipein'>λειπειν</span> (to be wanting); the sign for +<span class='t' title='arithmos'>αριθμος</span> +(<img src="images/symbol-arithmos.png" width="2%" alt="symbol-arithmos.png" title="" />) is most likely an abbreviation for +the letters <span class='t' title='ar'>αρ</span>; the compendia for the powers of the unknown are +<span class='t' title='D'>Δ</span><sup><span class='t' title='Y'>Υ</span></sup> for +<span class='t' title='dynamis'>δυναμις</span>, the square, +<span class='t' title='K'>Κ</span><sup><span class='t' title='Y'>Υ</span></sup> +for <span class='t' title='kybos'>κυβος</span>, the cube, and so on. Diophantus +shows that he solved quadratic equations by rule, like Heron. His +<i>Arithmetica</i>, of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> which six books only (out of thirteen) survive, +contains a certain number of problems leading to simple equations, but +is mostly devoted to indeterminate or semi-determinate analysis, mainly +of the second degree. The collection is extraordinarily varied, and the +devices resorted to are highly ingenious. The problems solved are such +as the following (fractional as well as integral solutions being +admitted): ‘Given a number, to find three others such that the sum +of the three, or of any pair of them, together with the given number is +a square’, ‘To find four numbers such that the square of the +sum <i>plus</i> or <i>minus</i> any one of the numbers is a square’, +‘To find three numbers such that the product of any two <i>plus</i> or +<i>minus</i> the sum of the three is a square’. Diophantus assumes as +known certain theorems about numbers which are the sums of two and three +squares respectively, and other propositions in the Theory of Numbers. +He also wrote a book <i>On Polygonal Numbers</i> of which only a fragment +survives.</p> + +<p>With Pappus and Diophantus the list of original writers on mathematics +comes to an end. After them came the commentators whose names only can +be mentioned here. Theon of Alexandria, the editor of Euclid, lived +towards the end of the fourth century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> To the fifth and sixth +centuries belong Proclus, Simplicius, and Eutocius, to whom we can never +be grateful enough for the precious fragments which they have preserved +from works now lost, and particularly the <i>History of Geometry</i> and the +<i>History of Astronomy</i> by Aristotle’s pupil Eudemus.</p> + +<p>Such is the story of Greek mathematical science. If anything could +enhance the marvel of it, it would be the consideration of the shortness +of the time (about 350 years) within which the Greeks, starting from the +very beginning, brought geometry to the point of performing operations +equivalent to the integral calculus and, in the realm of astronomy, +actually anticipated Copernicus.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>T. L. Heath.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SCIENCE" id="SCIENCE"></a>NATURAL SCIENCE</h2> + +<h3><i>Aristotle</i></h3> + +<p>There is a little essay of Goethe’s called, simply, <i>Die Natur</i>. +It comes among those tracts on Natural Science in which the poet and +philosopher turned his restless mind to problems of light and colour, of +leaf and flower, of bony skull and kindred vertebra; and it sounds like +a prose-poem, a noble paean, eulogizing the love and glorifying the +study of Nature. Some twenty-five hundred years before, Anaximander had +written a book with the same title, <i>Concerning Nature</i>, +<span class='t' title='peri physeôs'>περι φυσεως</span>: +but its subject was not the same. It was a variant of the old +traditional cosmogonies. It told of how in the beginning the earth was +without form and void. It sought to trace all things back to the +Infinite, <span class='t' title='to apeiron'>το απειρον</span>—to +That which knows no bounds of space or time but is before all worlds, +and to whose bosom again all things, all worlds, return. For Goethe +Nature meant the beauty, the all but sensuous beauty of the world; for +the older philosopher it was the mystery of the Creative Spirit.</p> + +<p>Than Nature, in Goethe’s sense, no theme is more familiar to us, +for whom many a poet tells the story and many a lesser poet echoes the +conceit; but if there be anywhere in Greek such overt praise and worship +of Nature’s beauty, I cannot call it to mind. Yet in Latin the +<i>divini gloria ruris</i> is praised and <i>Natura daedala rerum</i> worshipped, +as we are wont to praise and worship them, for their own sweet sakes. It +is one of the ways, one of the simpler ways, in which the Roman world +seems nearer to us than the Greek: and not only seems, but is so. For +compared with the great early civilizations, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +Rome is modern and of the West; while, draw her close as we may +to our hearts, Greece brings along with her a breath of the East and a +whisper of remote antiquity. A Tuscan gentleman of to-day, like a Roman +gentleman of yesterday, is at heart a husbandman, like Cato; he is +<i>ruris amator</i>, like Horace; he gets him to his little farm or vineyard +(<i>O rus, quando te aspiciam!</i>), like Atticus or the younger Pliny. As +Bacon praised his garden, so does Pliny praise his farm, with its +cornfields and meadowland, vineyard and woodland, orchard and pasture, +bee-hives and flowers. That God made the country and man made the town +was (long before Cowper) a saying of Varro’s; but in Greek I can +think of no such apophthegm.</p> + +<p>As Schiller puts it, the Greeks looked on Nature with their minds more +than with their hearts, nor ever clung to her with outspoken admiration +and affection. And Humboldt, asserting (as I would do) that the +portrayal of nature, for her own sake and in all her manifold diversity, +was foreign to the Greek idea, declares that the landscape is always the +mere background of their picture, while their foreground is filled with +the affairs and actions and thoughts of men. But all the while, as in +some old Italian picture—of Domenichino or Albani or Leonardo +himself—the subordinated background is delicately traced and +exquisitely beautiful; and sometimes we come to value it in the end more +than all the rest of the composition.</p> + +<p>Deep down in the love of Nature, whether it be of the sensual or +intellectual kind, and in the art of observation which is its outcome +and first expression, lie the roots of all our Natural Science. All the +world over these are the heritage of all men, though the inheritance be +richer or poorer here and there: they are shown forth in the lore and +wisdom of hunter and fisherman, of shepherd and husbandman, of artist +and poet. The natural history of the ancients is not enshrined in +Aristotle and Pliny. It pervades the vast literature of classical +antiquity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +For all we may say of the reticence with which, the Greeks +proclaim it, it greets us nobly in Homer, it sings to us in Anacreon, +Sicilian shepherds tune their pipes to it in Theocritus: and anon in +Virgil we dream of it to the coo of doves and the sound of bees’ +industrious murmur.</p> + +<p>Not only from such great names as these do we reach the letter and the +spirit of ancient Natural History. We must go a-wandering into the +by-ways of literature. We must eke out the scientific treatises of +Aristotle and Pliny by help of the fragments which remain of the works +of such naturalists as Speusippus or Alexander the Myndian; add to the +familiar stories of Herodotus the Indian tales of Ctesias and +Megasthenes; sit with Athenaeus and his friends at the supper table, +gleaning from cook and epicure, listening to the merry idle troop of +convivial gentlemen capping verses and spinning yarns; read +Xenophon’s treatise on Hunting, study the didactic poems, the +Cynegetica and Halieutica, of Oppian and of Ovid. And then again we may +hark back to the greater world of letters, wherein poet and scholar, +from petty fabulist to the great dramatists, from Homer’s majesty +to Lucian’s wit, share in the love of Nature and enliven the +delicate background of their story with allusions to beast and bird.</p> + +<p>Such allusions, refined at first by art and hallowed at last by familiar +memory, lie treasured in men’s hearts and enshrine themselves in +our noblest literature. Take, of a thousand crowding instances, that +great passage in the <i>Iliad</i> where the Greek host, disembarking on the +plains of the Scamander, is likened to a migrating flock of cranes or +geese or long-necked swans, as they fly proudly over the Asian meadows +and alight screaming by Cayster’s stream—and Virgil echoes more +than once the familiar lines. The crane was a well-known bird. Its lofty +flight brings it, again in Homer, to the very gates of heaven. Hesiod +and Pindar speak of its far-off cry, heard from above the clouds: and +that it ‘observed the time of its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> coming’, +‘intelligent of seasons’, was a proverb old in +Hesiod’s day—when the crane signalled the approach of winter, and +when it bade the husbandman make ready to plough. It follows the plough, +in Theocritus, as persistently as the wolf the kid and the peasant-lad +his sweetheart. The discipline of the migrating cranes, the serried +wedge of their ranks in flight, the good order of the resting flock, are +often, and often fancifully, described. Aristotle records how they have +an appointed leader, who keeps watch by night and in flight keeps +calling to the laggards; and all this old story Euripides, the most +naturalistic of the great tragedians, puts into verse:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ordered host of Libyan birds avoids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wintry storm, obedient to the call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their old leader, piping to his flock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">Lastly, Milton gathers up the spirit and the letter of these and many +another ancient allusion to the migrating cranes:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Part loosely wing the region; part more wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In common ranged in figure, wedge their way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intelligent of seasons, and set forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their aery caravan, high over seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flying, and over lands; with mutual wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Easing their flight; so steers the prudent crane.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But the natural history of the poets is a story without an end, and in +our estimation, however brief it be, of ancient knowledge, there are +other matters to be considered, and other points of view where we must +take our stand.</p> + +<p>When we consider the science of the Greeks, and come quickly to love it +and slowly to see how great it was, we likewise see that it was +restricted as compared with our own, curiously partial or particular in +its limitations. The practical and ‘useful’ sciences of +chemistry, mechanics, and engineering, which in our modern world crowd +the others to the wall, are absent altogether, or so concealed that we +forget and pass them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> +by. Mathematics is enthroned high over all, as it is meet she should +be; and of uncontested right she occupies her throne century after +century, from Pythagoras to Proclus, from the scattered schools of early +Hellenic civilization to the rise and fall of the great Alexandrine +University. Near beside her sits, from of old, the daughter-science of +Astronomy; and these twain were worshipped by the greatest scientific +intellects of the Greeks. But though we do not hear of them nor read of +them, we must not suppose for a moment that the practical or technical +sciences were lacking in so rich and complex a civilization. China, that +most glorious of all living monuments of Antiquity, tells us nothing of +her own chemistry, but we know that it is there. Peep into a Chinese +town, walk through its narrow streets, thronged but quiet, wherein there +is neither rumbling of coaches nor rattling of wheels, and you shall see +the nearest thing on earth to what we hear of Sybaris. To the production +of those glowing silks and delicate porcelains and fine metal-work has +gone a vast store of chemical knowledge, traditional and empirical. So +was it, precisely, in ancient Greece; and Plato knew that it was +so—that the dyer, the perfumer, and the apothecary had subtle +arts, a subtle science of their own, a science not to be belittled nor +despised. We may pass here and there by diligent search from conjecture +to assurance; analyse a pigment, an alloy or a slag; discover from an +older record than the Greeks’, the chemical prescription wherewith +an Egyptian princess darkened her eyes, or study the pictured hearth, +bellows, oven, crucibles with which the followers of Tubal-Cain smelted +their ore. Once in a way, but seldom, do we meet with ancient chemistry +even in Greek literature. There is a curious passage (its text is faulty +and the translation hard) in the story of the Argonauts, where Medea +concocts a magic brew. She put divers herbs in it, herbs yielding +coloured juices such as safflower and alkanet, and soapwort and fleawort +to give consistency or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +‘body’ to the lye; she put in alum and blue vitriol (or +sulphate of copper), and she put in blood. The magic brew was no more +and no less than a dye, a red or purple dye, and a prodigious deal of +chemistry had gone to the making of it. For the copper was there to +produce a ‘lake’ or copper-salt of the vegetable alkaloids, +which copper-lakes are among the most brilliant and most permanent of +colouring matters; the alum was there as a ‘mordant’; and +even the blood was doubtless there incorporated for better reasons than +superstitious ones, in all probability for the purpose of clarifying (by +means of its coagulating albumen) the seething and turbid brew.</p> + +<p>The ‘Orphic’ version of the story, in which this passage +occurs, is probably an Alexandrine compilation, and whether the +ingredients of the brew had been part of the ancient legend or were +merely suggested to the poet by the knowledge of his own day we cannot +tell; in either case the prescription is old enough, and is at least +pre-Byzantine by a few centuries. Such as it is, it does not stand +alone. Other fragments of ancient chemistry, more or less akin to it, +have been gathered together; in Galen’s book on <i>The making of +Simples</i>, in Pliny, in Paulus Aegineta, and for that matter in certain +Egyptian papyri (especially a certain very famous one, still extant, of +which Clement of Alexandria speaks as a secret or ‘hermetic’ +book), we can trace the broken and scattered stones of a great edifice +of ancient chemistry.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, all this weight of chemical learning figures scantily in +literature, and is conspicuously absent from our conception of the +natural genius of the Greeks. We have no reason to suppose that ancient +chemistry, or any part of it, was ever peculiarly Greek, or that this +science was the especial property of any nation whatsoever; moreover it +was a trade, or a bundle of trades, whose trade-secrets were too +precious to be revealed, and so constituted not a science but a +mystery.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +So has it always been with chemistry, the most cosmopolitan of +sciences, the most secret of arts. Quietly and stealthily it crept +through the world; the tinker brought it with his solder and his flux; +the African tribes who were the first workers in iron passed it on to +the great metallurgists who forged Damascan and Toledan steel.</p> + +<p>This ‘trade’ of Chemistry was never a science for a +Gentleman, as philosophy and mathematics were; and Plato, greatest of +philosophers, was one of the greatest of gentlemen. Long, long +afterwards, Oxford said the same thing to Robert Boyle—that Chemistry +was no proper avocation for a gentleman; but he thought otherwise, and +the ‘brother of the Earl of Cork’ became the Father of +scientific Chemistry.</p> + +<p>Now I take it that in regard to biology Aristotle did much the same +thing as Boyle, breaking through a similar tradition; and herein one of +the greatest of his great services is to be found. There was a wealth of +natural history before his time; but it belonged to the farmer, the +huntsman, and the fisherman—with something over (doubtless) for the +schoolboy, the idler, and the poet. But Aristotle made it a science, and +won a place for it in Philosophy. He did for it just what Pythagoras had +done (as Proclus tells us) for mathematics in an earlier age, when he +discerned the philosophy underlying the old empirical art of +‘geometry’, and made it the basis of ‘a liberal +education’.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p>The Mediterranean fisherman, like the Chinese fisherman or the Japanese, +has still, and always has had, a wide knowledge of all that pertains to +and accompanies his craft. Our Scottish fishermen have a limited +vocabulary, which scarce extends beyond the names of the few common +fishes with which the market is supplied. But at Marseilles or Genoa or +in the Levant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +they have names for many hundreds of species, of fish and +shell-fish and cuttle-fish and worms and corallines, and all manner of +swimming and creeping things; they know a vast deal about the habits of +their lives, far more, sometimes, than do we ‘scientific +men’; they are naturalists by tradition and by trade. Neither, by +the way, must we forget the ancient medical and anatomical learning of +the great Aesculapian guild, nor the still more recondite knowledge +possessed by various priesthoods (again like their brethren of to-day in +China and Japan) of the several creatures, sacred fish, pigeons, +guinea-fowl, snakes, cuttlefish, and what not, which time out of mind +they had reared, tended, and venerated.</p> + +<p>Of what new facts Aristotle actually discovered it is impossible to be +sure. Could it ever be proved that he discovered many, or could it even +be shown that of his own hand he discovered nothing at all, it would +affect but little our estimate of his greatness and our admiration of +his learning. He was the first of Greek philosophers and gentlemen to +see that all these things were good to know and worthy to be told. This +was his great discovery.</p> + +<p>I have sought elsewhere to show that Aristotle spent two years, the +happiest years perhaps of all his life—a long honeymoon—by the +sea-side in the island of Mytilene, after he had married the little +Princess, and before he began the hard work of his life: before he +taught Alexander in Macedon, and long before he spoke <i>urbi et orbi</i> in +the Lyceum. Here it was that he learned the great bulk of his natural +history, in which, wide and general as it is, the things of the sea have +from first to last a notable predominance.</p> + +<p>I have tried to illustrate elsewhere (as many another writer has done) +something of the variety and the depth of Aristotle’s knowledge of +animals—choosing an example here and there, but only drawing a little +water from an inexhaustible well.</p> + +<p>A famous case is that of the ‘molluscs’, where either +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +Aristotle’s knowledge was exceptionally minute, or where it has +come down to us with unusual completeness.</p> + +<p>These are the cuttle fish, which have now surrendered their Aristotelian +name of ‘molluscs’ to that greater group which is seen to +include them, together with the shell-fish or ‘ostracoderma’ +of Aristotle. These cuttle-fishes are creatures that we seldom see, but +in the Mediterranean they are an article of food and many kinds are +known to the fishermen. All or wellnigh all of these many kinds were +known to Aristotle. He described their form and their anatomy, their +habits, their development, all with such faithful accuracy that what we +can add to-day seems of secondary importance. He begins with a +methodical description of the general form, tells us of the body and +fins, of the eight arms with their rows of suckers, of the abnormal +position of the head. He points out the two long arms of Sepia and of +the calamaries, and their absence in the octopus; and he tells us, what +was only confirmed of late, that with these two long arms the creature +clings to the rock and sways about like a ship at anchor. He describes +the great eyes, the two big teeth forming the beak; and he dissects the +whole structure of the gut, with its long gullet, its round crop, its +stomach and the little coiled coecal diverticulum: dissecting not only +one but several species, and noting differences that were not observed +again till Cuvier re-dissected them. He describes the funnel and its +relation to the mantle-sac, and the ink-bag, which he shows to be +largest in Sepia of all others. And here, by the way, he seems to make +one of those apparent errors that, as it happens, turn out to be +justified: for he tells us that in Octopus, unlike the rest, the funnel +is on the upper side; the fact being that when the creature lies prone +upon the ground, with all its arms outspread, the funnel-tube (instead +of being flattened out beneath the creature’s prostrate body) is +long enough to protrude upwards between arms and head, and to appear on +one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +side or other thereof, in a position apparently the reverse of its +natural one. He describes the character of the cuttle-bone in Sepia, and +of the horny pen which takes its place in the various calamaries, and +notes the lack of any similar structure in Octopus. He dissects in both +sexes the reproductive organs, noting without exception all their +essential and complicated parts; and he had figured these in his lost +volume of anatomical diagrams. He describes the various kinds of eggs, +and, with still more surprising knowledge, shows us the little embryo +cuttle-fish, with its great yolk-sac attached, in apparent contrast to +the chick’s, to the little creature’s developing head.</p> + +<p>But there is one other remarkable feature that he knew ages before it +was rediscovered, almost in our own time. In certain male cuttle-fishes, +in the breeding season, one of the arms develops in a curious fashion +into a long coiled whip-lash, and in the act of breeding may then be +transferred to the mantle-cavity of the female. Cuvier himself knew +nothing of the nature or the function of this separated arm, and indeed, +if I am not mistaken, it was he who mistook it for a parasitic worm. But +Aristotle tells us of its use and its temporary development, and of its +structure in detail, and his description tallies closely with the +accounts of the most recent writers.</p> + +<p>A scarcely less minute account follows of the ‘Malacostraca’ +or crustaceans, the lobsters and the crabs, the shrimps and the prawns, +and others of their kind, a chapter to which Cuvier devoted a celebrated +essay. There be many kinds of crabs—the common kind, the big +‘granny’ crabs, the little horsemen-crabs, that scamper over +the sand and which are for the most part empty, that is to say, whose +respiratory cavities are exceptionally large; and there are the +freshwater crabs. There are the little shrimps and the big hump-backed +fellows, or prawns; there are the ‘crangons’ or squillae; +and the big lobsters and the crawfish or ‘langoustes’, their +spiny cousins. We read about their beady eyes, which turn every way; +about their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +big rough antennae and the smaller, smoother pair between; +the great teeth, or mandibles; the carapace with its projecting rostrum, +the jointed abdomen with the tail-fins at the end, and the little flaps +below on which the female drops her spawn. In more or less detail these +things are severally described, and the many limbs severally enumerated, +in one kind after another. The descriptions of the lobster and the +langouste are particularly minute, and the comparison or contrast +between the two is drawn with elaborate precision. In the former, +besides other differences between male and female, the female is said to +have the ‘first foot’ (or leg) bifurcate, while in the male +it is undivided. It seems a trifling matter, but it is true; it is so +small a point that I searched long before at last I found mention made +of it in a German monograph. The puzzling thing is that it is (as we +should say) the last and not the first leg which is so distinguished; +but after all, it is only a convention of our own to count the limbs +from before backwards. To inspect a lobster’s limbs, we lay it on +its back (as Aristotle did), and see the legs overlapping, each hinder +one above the one before; the hindmost is the first we see, and the one +we must first lift up to inspect the others.</p> + +<p>Aristotle’s account of fishes is a prodigious history of habits, +food, migrations, modes of capture, times and ways of spawning, and +anatomical details; but it is not here that we can elucidate or even +illustrate this astonishing Ichthyology. It is not always easy to +understand—but the obstacle lies often, I take it, in our own +ignorance. The identification of species is not always plain, for here +as elsewhere Aristotle did not reckon with a time or place where the +familiar words of Greek should be unknown or their homely significance +forgotten. Among the great host of fish-names there are several +referring, somehow or other, to the Grey Mullet, which puzzle both +naturalist and lexicographer. A young officer told me the other day how +he had watched an Arab fisherman emptying out his creel of Grey +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> Mullet +on some Syrian beach, and the Arab gave four if not five names to as +many different kinds, betwixt which my friend could see no difference +whatsoever. Had my friend been an ichthyologist he would doubtless have +noticed that one had eyelids and the others none; that one had little +brushes on its lips, another a small but wide-open slit under the jaw, +another a yellow spot on its gill-covers, and so on. The Mullets are a +difficult group, but Aristotle, like the Arab fisherman, evidently +recognized their fine distinctions and employed the appropriate names. +Again, Aristotle speaks of a certain nest-building fish, the +‘phycis’, and regarding this Cuvier fell into error (where +once upon a time I followed him). In Cuvier’s time there was but +one nest-building fish known such as to suit, apparently, the passage, +namely the little black goby; but after Cuvier’s day the +nest-building habits of the ‘wrasses’ became known to +naturalists, as they had doubtless been known ages before to the +fishermen—and to Aristotle.</p> + +<p>Like almost every other little point on which we happen to touch, we +might make this one the starting-point (here comes in the delight and +fascination of the interpreter’s task!) for other stories.</p> + +<p>Speusippus, Plato’s successor in the Academy, was both philosopher +and naturalist, and we may take it, if we please, that his leaning +towards biology, and the biological trend which at this time became more +and more marked in Athenian philosophy, were not unconnected with the +great impulse which Aristotle had given. However this may be, Speusippus +wrote a book <span class='t' title='peri Homoiôn'>περι Ὁμοιων</span> ‘Concerning +Resemblances’; and this, of which we only possess a few +fragmentary sentences, must have been a very curious and an interesting +book. He mentions, among other similar cases, that our little fish +<i>phycis</i> has a close outward semblance to the sea-perch; and this is +enough to clinch the proof that Aristotle’s nest-building fish was +not a goby but a wrasse. The whole purport of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +Speusippus’s book seems to have been to discuss how, or +why, with all Nature’s apparently infinite variety, certain +animals have a singularly close resemblance to certain others, though +they be quite distinct in kind. It is a problem which perplexes us +still, when we are astonished and even deluded by the likeness between a +wasp and a hover-fly, a merlin and a cuckoo. In certain extreme cases we +call it ‘mimicry’, and invoke hypotheses to account for this +‘mimetic’ resemblance; and those of us who reject these +hypotheses must fain take refuge in others, as far-reaching in their +way. This at least we know, that Speusippus seized upon a real problem +of biology, of lasting interest and even of fundamental importance.</p> + +<p>To come back to Aristotle and his fishes, let us glance at one little +point more. The reproduction of the eel is an ancient puzzle, which has +found its full solution only in our own day. While the salmon, for +instance, comes up the river to breed and goes down again to the sea, +the eel goes down to the ocean to spawn, and the old eels come back no +more but perish in the great waters. The eel’s egg develops into a +little flattened, transparent fish, altogether different in outward +appearance from an eel, which turns afterwards into a young eel or +‘elver’; and Professor Grassi, who had a big share in +elucidating the whole matter, tells us the curious fact that he found +the Sicilian fishermen well acquainted with the little transparent larva +(the <i>Leptocephalus</i> of modern naturalists), that they knew well what it +was, and that they had a name for it—<i>Casentula</i>. Now Aristotle, in a +passage which I think has been much misunderstood (and which we must +admit to be in part erroneous), tells us that the eel develops from what +he calls <span class='t' title='gês entera'>γης εντερα</span>, a word which we translate, literally, the +‘guts of the earth’, and which commentators interpret as +‘earthworms’! But in Sicilian Doric, <span class='t' title='gês entera'>γης εντερα</span> +would at once become <span class='t' title='gas entera'>γας εντερα</span>; and between +‘Gasentera’ and the modern Sicilian ‘Casentula’ +there is scarce a hairbreadth’s<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +difference. So we may be permitted to suppose that here again Aristotle +was singularly and accurately informed; and that he knew by sight and +name the little larva of the eel, whose discovery and identification is +one of the modest triumphs of recent investigation.</p> + +<p>Aristotle’s many pages on fishes are delightful reading. The +anatomist may read of such recondite matters as the <i>placenta vitellina</i> +of the smooth dog-fish, whereby the viviparous embryo is nourished +within the womb, after a fashion analogous to that of mammalian +embryology—a phenomenon brought to light anew by Johannes Müller, and +which excited him to enthusiastic admiration of Aristotle’s minute +and faithful anatomy. Again we may read of the periodic migration of the +tunnies, of the great net or ‘madrague’ in which they are +captured, and of the watchmen, the <span class='t' title='thynnoskopoi'>θυννοσκοποι</span>, the +‘hooers’ of our ancient Cornish fishery, who give warning +from tower or headland of the approaching shoal. The student may learn +what manner of fish it was (the great Eagle-ray) with whose barbed +fin-spine—most primitive of spear-heads—Ulysses was slain; and again, +he may learn not a little about that <span class='t' title='narkê'>ναρκη</span>, or torpedo, to +which Meno compared his master Socrates, in a somewhat ambiguous +compliment.</p> + +<p>In rambling fashion Aristotle has a deal to tell us about insects, and +he has left us a sort of treatise on the whole natural history of the +bee. He knew the several inmates of the hive, though like others of his +day (save, perhaps, only Xenophon), and like Shakespeare too, he took +the queen-bee for a king. He describes the building of the comb, the +laying of the eggs, the provision of the larvae with food. He discusses +the various qualities of honey and the flowers from which these are +drawn. He is learned in the diseases and the enemies of bees. He tells +us many curious things about the economy of the hive and the arts of the +bee-keeper, some of which things have a very modern and familiar look +about them: for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +instance, the use of a net or screen to keep out the drones, a net so +nicely contrived that these sturdy fellows are just kept out, while the +leaner, slenderer workers are just let in. But it would be a long, long +story to tell of Aristotle’s knowledge of the bee, and to compare +it with what is, haply, the still deeper skill and learning of that +master of bee-craft, Virgil.</p> + +<p>Then, having perfect freedom to go whithersoever we chose and to follow +the bees across the boundless fields of ancient literature, we might +read of the wild bees and of their honey out of a rock, and of the +hive-bees too, in Homer; follow them to their first legendary home in +Crete, where the infant Jupiter was fed on honey—as a baby’s lips +are touched with it even unto this day; trace their association with +Proserpine and her mother, or their subtler connexion with Ephesian +Diana; find in the poets, from Hesiod to the later Anthology, a hundred +sweet references—to the bee-tree in the oak-wood, to the flowery hill +Hymettus. Perhaps, at last, we might even happen on the place where +Origen seems so strangely to foreshadow Shakespeare—speaking of the +king of the bees with his retinue of courtiers (his officers of sorts), +the relays of workmen (the poor mechanic porters crowding in), the +punishment of the idle (where some, like magistrates, correct at home), +the wars, the vanquished, and the plunder (which pillage they with merry +march bring home To the tent-royal of their Emperor).</p> + +<p>Go back to Aristotle, and we may listen to him again while he talks of +many other kindred insects: of the humble-bee and its kind, of the +mason-bee with its hard round nest of clay, of the robber-bees, and of +the various wasps and hornets; or (still more curiously and +unexpectedly) of the hunter-wasp or ‘ichneumon’, and how it +kills the spider, carries it home to its nest, and lays its eggs in its +poor body, that the little wasp-grubs may afterwards be fed. Or again of +the great wasps which he calls Anthrenae, and how they chase the big +flies, and cut off their heads, and fly away with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +the rest of the carcass—all agreeing to the very letter with what +Henri Fabre tells us of a certain large wasp of Southern Europe, and how +it captures the big ‘taons’ or horse-flies: ‘Pour +donner le coup de grâce à leurs Taons mal sacrifiés, +et se débattants encore entre les pattes du ravisseur, j’ai +vu des Bembex mâchonner la tête et le thorax des +victimes.’ Verily, there is nothing new under the sun.</p> + +<p>With the metamorphoses of various insects Aristotle was well acquainted. +He knew how the house-fly passes its early stages in a dung-hill, and +how the grubs of the big horse-flies and Tabanids live in decayed wood; +how certain little flies or gnats are engendered (as he calls it) in the +slime of vinegar. He relates with great care and accuracy the +life-history of the common gnat, from its aquatic larva, the little red +‘blood-worm’ of our pools; he describes them wriggling about +like tiny bits of red weed, in the water of some half-empty well; and he +explains, finally, the change by which they become stiff and motionless +and hard, until a husk breaks away and the little gnat is seen sitting +upon it; and by and by the sun’s heat or a puff of wind starts it +off, and away it flies.</p> + +<p>Some of these stories are indeed remarkable, for the events related are +more or less hidden and obscure; and so, with all this knowledge at +hand, it is not a little strange that Aristotle has very little indeed +to tell us about the far more obvious phenomena of the life-history of +the butterfly, and of the several kinds of butterflies and moths. He +does tell us briefly that the butterfly comes from a caterpillar, which +lives on cabbage-leaves and feeds voraciously, then turns into a +chrysalis and eats no more, nor has it a mouth to eat withal; it is hard +and, as it were, dead, but yet it moves and wriggles when you touch it, +and after a while the husk bursts and out comes the butterfly. The +account is good enough, so far as it goes, but nevertheless Aristotle +shows no affection for the butterfly, does not linger and dally over it, +tells no stories about it. This is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +all of a piece with the rest of Greek literature, and poetry in +particular, where allusions to the butterfly are scanty and rare. I +think the Greeks found something ominous or uncanny, something not to be +lightly spoken of, in that all but disembodied spirit which we call a +butterfly, and they called by the name of <span class='t' title='psychê'>ψυχη</span>, the Soul. They had a +curious name (<span class='t' title='nekydallos'>νεκυδαλλος</span>) for the pupa. It sounds like a ‘little +corpse’ (<span class='t' title='nekys'>νεκυς</span>); and like a little corpse within its shroud or +coffin the pupa sleeps in its cocoon. A late poet describes the +butterfly ‘coming back from the grave to the light of day’; +and certain of the Fathers of the Church, St. Basil in particular, point +the moral accordingly, and draw a doubtless time-honoured allegory of +the Resurrection and the Life from the grub which is not dead but +sleepeth, and the butterfly which (as it were) is raised in glory.</p> + +<p>Of one large moth, Aristotle gives us an account which has been a puzzle +to many. This begins as a great grub or caterpillar, with (as it were) +horns; and, growing by easy stages, it spins at length a cocoon. There +is a class of women who unwind and reel off the cocoons, and afterwards +weave a fabric with the thread; and a certain woman of Cos is credited +with the invention of this fabric. This is, at first sight, a plain and +straightforward description of the silkworm; but we know that it was not +till long afterwards, nearly a thousand years after, in +Justinian’s reign, that the silkworm and the mulberry-tree which +is its food were brought out of the East into Byzantine Greece. We learn +something of this Coan silkworm from Pliny, who tells us that it lived +on the ash and oak and cypress tree; and from Clement of Alexandria and +other of the Fathers we glean a little more—for instance, that the +larva was covered with thick-set hairs, and that the cocoon was of a +loose material something like a spider’s web. All this agrees in +every particular with a certain large moth (<i>Lasiocampa otus</i>), which +spins a rough cocoon not unlike that of our Emperor moth, and lives in +south-eastern Europe, feeding on the cypress and the oak. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> Many other +silkworms besides the true or common one are still employed, worms which +yield the Tussore silks of India and other kindred silks in Japan; and +so likewise was this rough silky fabric spun and woven in Hellas, until +in course of time it was surpassed and superseded by the finer produce +of the ‘Seric worm’, and the older industry died out and was +utterly forgotten.</p> + +<p>Ere we leave the subject of insects let us linger a moment over one +which the Greeks loved, and loved most of all. When as schoolboys we +first began to read our Thucydides, we met in the very beginning with +the story of how rich Athenians wore Golden Grasshoppers (as the +schoolmaster calls them) in their hair. These golden ornaments were, of +course, no common grasshoppers, but the little Cicadas, whose sharp +chirrup seemed delightful music to the Greeks. It is unpleasant to our +ears, as Browning found it; but in a multitude of Greek poets, in +Alcaeus and Anacreon and all through the whole Anthology, we hear its +praise. We have it, for instance, in the <i>Birds</i>:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though the hot sun be shining in the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the deep flowery meadow-grass I lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To listen to the shrill melodious tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of crickets, thrilled to ecstasy at noon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Of this familiar and beloved insect Aristotle gives a copious account. +He describes two separate species, which we still recognize easily; a +larger one and the better singer, the other smaller and the first to +come and last to go with the summer season. He recognized the curious +vocal organ, or vibratory drum, at the cicada’s waist, and saw +that some cicadas possessed it and others not; and he knew, as the poets +also knew, that it was the males who sang, while their wives listened +and were silent. He tells how the cicada is absent from treeless +countries, as, for instance, from Cyrene (and why, I wonder, does he go +all the way to Cyrene for his illustration?), neither is it heard in +deep and sunless woods; but in the olive-groves you hear it at its best, +for an olive-grove is sparse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +and the sun comes through. Then he tells us briefly, but with +remarkable accuracy, the story of the creature’s life: how the +female, with her long ovipositor, lays her eggs deep down in dead, +hollow twigs, such as the canes on which the vines are propped; how the +brood, when they escape from the egg, burrow underground; how later on +they emerge, especially in rainy weather, when the rains have softened +the soil; how then the larva changes into another form, the so-called +‘nymph’; and how at last, when summer comes, the skin of the +nymph breaks and the perfect insect issues forth, changes colour, and +begins to sing. In Aristophanes, in Theocritus, in Lucretius, Virgil, +Martial, and in the Anthology, we may gather up a host of poetical +allusions to the natural history thus simply epitomized.</p> + +<p>The Book about Animals, the <i>Historia Animalium</i> as we say, from which I +have quoted these few examples of Aristotle’s store of +information, may be taken to represent the first necessary stage of +scientific inquiry. There is a kind of <i>manual</i> philosophy (as old Lord +Monboddo called it) which investigates facts which escape the vulgar, +and may be called the <i>anecdotes</i> or <i>secret history</i> of nature. In this +fascinating pursuit Gilbert White excelled, and John Ray and many +another—the whole brotherhood of simple naturalists. But such +accumulated knowledge of facts is but the foundation of a philosophy; +and ‘nothing deserves the name of philosophy, except what explains +the causes and principles of things’. Aristotle would have done +much had he merely shown (as Gilbert White showed to the country +gentlemen of his day) that the minute observation of nature was +something worth the scholar and the gentleman’s while; but, far +more than this, he made a Science of natural knowledge, and set it once +for all within the realm of Philosophy. He set it side by side with the +more ancient science of Astronomy, which for many hundred years in Egypt +and the East, and for some few centuries in Hellas, had occupied the +mind of philosophers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> +and the attention of educated men. I have quoted before a great +sentence in which he explains his purpose, and makes excuse for his +temerity. ‘The glory, doubtless, of the heavenly bodies fills us +with more delight than the contemplation of these lowly things; for the +sun and stars are born not, neither do they decay, but are eternal and +divine. But the heavens are high and afar off, and of celestial things +the knowledge that our senses give us is scanty and dim. The living +creatures, on the other hand, are at our door, and if we so desire it we +may gain ample and certain knowledge of each and all. We take pleasure +in the beauty of a statue, shall not then the living fill us with +delight; and all the more if in the spirit of philosophy we search for +causes and recognize the evidences of design. Then will nature’s +purpose and her deep-seated laws be everywhere revealed, all tending in +her multitudinous work to one form or another of the Beautiful.’</p> + +<p>Aristotle’s voluminous writings have come down to us through many +grave vicissitudes. The greatest of them all are happily intact, or very +nearly so; but some are lost and others have suffered disorder and +corruption. The work known as the ‘Parts of Animals’ opens +(as our text has it) with a chapter which seems meant for a general +exordium to the whole series of biological treatises; and I know no +chapter in all Aristotle’s books which better shows (in plainer +English or easier Greek) the master-hand of the great Teacher and +Philosopher. He begins by telling us (it has ever since been a common +saying) that every science, every branch of knowledge, admits of two +sorts of proficiency—that which may properly be termed scientific +knowledge, and that which is within the reach of ordinary educated men. +He proceeds to discuss the ‘method’ of scientific inquiry, +whether we should begin with the specific and proceed to the general, or +whether we are to deal first with common or generical characters and +thereafterward with special peculiarities. Are we entitled to treat of +animals, as is done in mathematical astronomy, by +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +dealing first with facts or phenomena and then proceeding to +discover and relate their several causes? At once this leads to a brief +discussion (elaborated elsewhere) of the two great Causes, or aspects of +cause—the final cause and the ‘moving’ or efficient +cause—the <i>reason why</i> or the purpose for which, and the +antecedent cause which, <i>of necessity</i>, brings a thing to be such as it +is. Here is one of the great crucial questions of philosophy, and +Aristotle’s leaning to the side of the Final Cause has been a +dominant influence upon the minds of men throughout the whole history of +learning. Empedocles had taken another view: he held that the rain comes +when it listeth, or ‘of necessity’; that we have no right to +suppose it comes to make the corn grow in spring, any more than to spoil +the autumn sheaves: that the teeth grow by the operation of some natural +(or physical) law, and that their apparent and undoubted fitness for +cutting and grinding is not purposeful but coincident; that the backbone +is divided into vertebrae because of the antecedent forces, or flexions, +which act upon it in the womb. And Empedocles proceeds to the great +evolutionary deduction, the clear prevision of Darwin’s +philosophy, that fit and unfit arise alike, but that what is fit to +survive does survive and what is unfit perishes.</p> + +<p>The story is far too long and the theme involved too grave and difficult +for treatment here. But I would venture to suggest that Aristotle +inclined to slur over the physical and lean the more to the final cause, +for this simple reason (whatever other reasons there may be), that he +was a better biologist than a physicist: that he lacked somewhat the +mathematical turn of mind which was intrinsic to the older schools of +philosophy. For better for worse the course he took, the choice he made, +was of incalculable import, and had power for centuries to guide (dare +we say, to bias) the teaching of the schools, the progress of learning, +and the innermost beliefs of men.</p> + +<p>In this one short but pregnant chapter of Aristotle’s there is far +more than we can hope even to epitomize. He has much +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +to say in it of ‘classification’, an important matter +indeed, and he discusses it as a great logician should, in all its +rigour. Many commentators have sought for Aristotle’s +‘classification of animals’; for my part I have never found +it, and, in our sense of the word, I am certain it is not there. An +unbending, unchanging classification of animals would have been +something foreign to all his logic; it is all very well, it becomes +practically necessary, when we have to arrange our animals on the +shelves of a museum or in the arid pages of a ‘systematic’ +catalogue; and it takes a new complexion when, or if, we can attain to a +real or historical classification, following lines of actual descent and +based on proven facts of historical evolution. But Aristotle (as it +seems to me) neither was bound to a museum catalogue nor indulged in +visions either of a complete <i>scala naturae</i> or of an hypothetical +phylogeny. He classified animals as he found them; and, as a logician, +he had a dichotomy for every difference which presented itself to his +mind. At one time he divided animals into those with blood and those +without, at another into the air-breathers and the water-breathers; into +the wild and the tame, the social and the solitary, and so on in endless +ways besides. At the same time he had a quick eye for the great natural +groups, such ‘genera’ (as he called them) as Fish or Bird, +Insect or Mollusc. So it comes to pass that, while he fashioned no hard +and fast scheme of classification, and would undoubtedly (I hold) have +thought it vain to do so, the threads of his several partial or +temporary classifications come together after all, though in a somewhat +hazy pattern, yet in a very beautiful and coherent parti-coloured web. +And though his order is not always our order, yet a certain exquisite +orderliness is of the very essence of his thought and style. It is the +characteristic which Molière hits upon in <i>Les Femmes +savantes</i>,—‘Je m’attache <i>pour l’ordre</i> au +péripatétisme’.</p> + +<p>Before he finishes the great chapter of which we have begun to speak he +indicates that there are more ways than one of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +relating, or classifying, our facts; that, for instance, it may be +equally proper and necessary to deal now with the animals and their +several parts or properties, and at another time with the parts or +properties as such, explaining and illustrating them in turn by the +several animals which display or possess them. The ‘Parts of +Animals’ is, then, a corollary, a necessary corollary, to the more +anecdotal <i>Historia Animalium</i>. And yet again, there is a third +alternative—to discuss the great functions or actions or +potentialities of the organism, as it were first of all in the abstract, +and then to correlate them with the parts which in this or that creature +are provided and are ‘designed’ to effect them. This +involves the conception and the writing of separate physiological +treatises on such themes as Respiration, Locomotion, on Sleeping and +Waking, and lastly (and in some respects the most ambitious, most +erudite, and most astonishing of them all) the great account of the +Generation of Animals.</p> + +<p>So the whole range, we might say the whole conceivable range, of +biological science is sketched out, and the greater part of the great +canvas is painted in. But to bring it into touch with human life, and to +make good its claim to the high places of philosophy, we must go yet +farther and study Life itself, and what men call the Soul. So grows the +great conception. We begin with trivial anecdote, with the things that +fisherman, huntsman, peasant know; the sciences of zoology, anatomy, +physiology take shape before our very eyes; and by evening we sit humbly +at the feet of the great teacher of Life itself, the historian of the +Soul. It is not for us to attempt to show that even here the story does +not end, but the highest chapters of philosophy begin. Then, when we +remember that this short narrative of ours is but the faintest +adumbration of one side only of the philosopher’s many-sided task +and enterprise, we begin to rise towards a comprehension of Roger +Bacon‘s saying, that ‘although Aristotle did not arrive at +the end of knowledge, he set in order all parts of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +philosophy’. In the same spirit a modern critic declares: +‘Il n’a seulement défini et constitué chacune +des parties de la science; il en a de plus montré le lien et +l’unité’.</p> + +<p>Aristotle, like Shakespeare, is full of old saws, tags of wisdom, jewels +five words long. Here is such a one, good for teacher and pupil +alike—<span class='t' title='Dei pisteuein ton manthanonta'>Δει πιστευειν τον μανθανοντα</span>. +It tells us that the road to Learning lies through Faith; and it means +that to be a scholar one should have a heart as well as brains.</p> + +<p>By reason partly of extraneous interpolation, but doubtless also through +a lingering credulity from which even philosophers are not immune, we +find in Aristotle many a strange story. The goats that breathe through +their ears, the vulture impregnated by the wind, the eagle that dies of +hunger, the stag caught by music, the salamander which walks through +fire, the unicorn, the mantichore, are but a few of the ‘Vulgar +Errors’ or ‘Received Tenents’ (as Sir Thomas Browne +has it) which are perpetuated, not originated, in the <i>Historia +Animalium</i>. Some of them come, through Persia, from the farther East: +and others (we meet with them once more in Horapollo the Egyptian +priest) are but the exoteric or allegorical expression of the arcana of +ancient Egyptian religion.</p> + +<p>So it comes to pass that for two thousand years and throughout all lands +men have come to Aristotle, and found in him information and +instruction—that which they desired. Arab and Moor and Syrian and Jew +treasured his books while the western world sat in darkness; the great +centuries of Scholasticism hung upon his words; the oldest of our +Universities, Bologna, Paris, Oxford, were based upon his teaching, yea, +all but established for his study. Where he has been, there, seen or +unseen, his influence remains; even the Moor and the Arab find in him, +to this day, a teacher after their own hearts: a teacher of eternal +verities, telling of sleep and dreams, of youth and age, of life and +death, of generation and corruption, of growth and of decay: a guide to +the book of Nature, a revealer of the Spirit, a prophet of the works of +God.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +The purpose of these little essays, I have been told (though I had half +forgotten it), is to help though ever so little to defend and justify +the study of the language and the vast literature of Greece. It is a +task for which I am unfitted and unprepared. When Oliver Goldsmith +proposed to teach Greek at Leyden, where he ‘had been told it was +a desideratum’, the Principal of that celebrated University met +him (as we all know) with weighty objections. ‘I never learned +Greek’, said the Principal, ‘and I don’t find that I +have ever missed it. I have had a Doctor’s cap and gown without +Greek. I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek; and, in +short’, continued he, ‘as I don’t know Greek, I do not +believe there is any good in it.’—I have heard or read the story +again and again, for is it not written in the <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>? But +I never heard that any man, not Goldsmith himself, attempted to confute +the argument. I agree for the most part with the Principal, and can see +clearly that all the Greek that Goldsmith knew, and all the Greek in all +the world, would have meant nothing and done nothing for him. But there +is and will be many another who finds in Greek wisdom and sweet Hellenic +speech something which he needs must have, and lacking which he would be +poor indeed: something which is as a staff in his hand, a light upon his +path, a lantern to his feet.</p> + +<p>In this workaday world we may still easily possess ourselves, as Gibbon +says the subjects of the Byzantine Throne, even in their lowest +servitude and depression, were still possessed, ‘of a golden key +that could unlock the treasures of antiquity, of a musical and prolific +language that gives a soul to the objects of sense, and a body to the +abstractions of philosophy’.</p> + +<p>Our very lives seem prolonged by the recollection of antiquity; for, as +Cicero says, not to know what has been transacted in former times is to +continue always a child. I borrow the citation from Dr. Johnson, who +reminds us also of a saying of Aristotle himself, that as students we +ought first to examine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +and understand what has been written by the ancients, and then cast our +eyes round upon the world. And Johnson prefaces both quotations by +another:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Tibi res antiquae laudis et artis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But now I, who have dared to draw my tiny draft from Aristotle’s +great well, seem after all to be seeking an excuse, seeking it in +example and precept. Precept, at least, I know to be of no avail. My +father spent all the many days of his life in the study of Greek; you +might suppose it was for Wisdom’s sake,—but my father was a +modest man. The fact is, he did it for a simpler reason still, a very +curious reason, to be whispered rather than told: he did it <i>for love</i>.</p> + +<p>Nigh forty years ago, I first stepped out on the east-windy streets of a +certain lean and hungry town (lean, I mean, as regards scholarship) +where it was to be my lot to spend thereafter many and many a year. And +the very first thing I saw there was an inscription over a very humble +doorway, ‘<i>Hic mecum habitant Dante, Cervantes, Molière</i>’. +It was the home of a poor schoolmaster, who as a teacher of languages +eked out the scanty profits of his school. I was not a little comforted +by the announcement. So the poor scholar, looking on the ragged regiment +of his few books, is helped, consoled, exalted by the reflection: <i>Hic +mecum habitant ... Homerus, Plato, Aristoteles</i>. And were one in a +moment of inadvertence to inquire of him why he occupied himself with +Greek, he might perchance stammer (like Dominie Sampson) an almost +inarticulate reply; but more probably he would be stricken speechless by +the enormous outrage of the request, and the reason of his devotion +would be hidden from the questioner for ever.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>D’Arcy Wentworth Thompson.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BIOLOGY" id="BIOLOGY"></a>BIOLOGY</h2> + +<h3><i>Before Aristotle</i></h3> + +<p>What is science? It is a question that cannot be answered easily, nor +perhaps answered at all. None of the definitions seem to cover the field +exactly; they are either too wide or too narrow. But we can see science +in its growth and we can say that being a process it can exist only as +growth. Where does the science of biology begin? Again we cannot say, +but we can watch its evolution and its progress. Among the Greeks the +accurate observation of living forms, which is at least one of the +essentials of biological science, goes back very far. The word +<i>Biology</i>, used in our sense, would, it is true, have been an +impossibility among them, for <i>bios</i> refers to the life of man and could +not be applied, except in a strained or metaphorical sense, to that of +other living things.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> +But the <i>ideas</i> we associate with the word are clearly developed in +Greek philosophy and the foundations of biology are of great antiquity.</p> + +<p>The Greek people had many roots, racial, cultural, and spiritual, and +from them all they inherited various powers and qualities and derived +various ideas and traditions. The most suggestive source for our purpose +is that of the Minoan race whom they dispossessed and whose lands they +occupied. That highly gifted people exhibited in all stages of its +development a marvellous power of graphically representing animal forms, +of which the famous Cretan friezes, Vaphio cups (Fig. 5), and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +Mycenean lions provide well-known examples. It is difficult not to +believe that the Minoan element, entering into the mosaic of peoples +that we call the Greeks, was in part at least responsible for the like +graphic power developed in the Hellenic world, though little contact has +yet been demonstrated between Minoan and archaic Greek Art.</p> + +<p>For the earliest biological achievements of Greek peoples we have to +rely largely on information gleaned from artistic remains. It is true +that we have a few fragments of the works of both Ionian and +Italo-Sicilian philosophers, and in them we read of theoretical +speculation as to the nature of life and of the soul, and we can thus +form some idea of the first attempts of such workers as Alcmaeon of +Croton (<i>c.</i> 500 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) to lay bare the structure of animals by +dissection.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> +The pharmacopœia also of some of the earliest works of the Hippocratic +collection betrays considerable knowledge of both native and foreign +plants.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> +Moreover, scattered through the pages of Herodotus and other early +writers is a good deal of casual information concerning animals and +plants, though such material is second-hand and gives us little +information concerning the habit of exact observation that is the +necessary basis of science.</p> + +<p>Something more is, however, revealed by early Greek Art. We are in +possession of a series of vases of the seventh and sixth centuries +before the Christian era showing a closeness of observation of animal +forms that tells of a people awake to the study of nature. We have thus +portrayed for us a number of animals—plants seldom or never appear—and +among the best rendered are wild creatures: we see antelopes quietly +feeding or startled at a sound, birds flying or picking worms from the +ground, fallow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +deer forcing their way through thickets, browsing peacefully, or +galloping away, boars facing the hounds and dogs chasing hares, wild +cattle forming their defensive circle, hawks seizing their prey. Many of +these exhibit minutely accurate observation. The very direction of the +hairs on the animals’ coats has sometimes been closely studied, +and often the muscles are well rendered. In some cases even the +dentition has been found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +accurately portrayed, as in a sixth-century representation on an Ionian +vase of a lioness—an animal then very rare on the Eastern +Mediterranean littoral, but still known in Babylonia, Syria, and Asia +Minor. The details of the work show that the artist must have examined +the animal in captivity (Figs. 1 and 2).</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> <img src="images/illus-165a.png" width="400" height="288" +alt="Fig. 1. Lioness and young from an Ionian vase of the sixth century +B. C. found at Caere in Southern Etruria (Louvre, Salle E, No. 298), +from Le Dessin des Animaux en Grèce d’après les +vases peints, by J. Morin, Paris (Renouard), 1911. The animal is drawing +itself up to attack its hunters. The scanty mane, the form of the paws, +the udders, and the dentition are all heavily though accurately +represented." title="" /> <span class="caption"><span class='sc'>Fig. 1.</span> +Lioness and young from an Ionian vase of the sixth century B. C. found +at Caere in Southern Etruria (Louvre, Salle E, No. 298), from Le Dessin +des Animaux en Grèce d’après les vases peints, by J. +Morin, Paris (Renouard), 1911. The animal is drawing itself up to attack +its hunters. The scanty mane, the form of the paws, the udders, and the +dentition are all heavily though accurately represented.</span></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> <img src="images/illus-165b.png" width="400" height="208" +alt="Fig. 2. A, Jaw bones of lion; B, head of lioness from Caere vase +(Fig. 1), after Morin. Note the careful way in which the artist has +distinguished the molar from the cutting teeth." title="" /> <span class="caption"> +<span class="sc">Fig. 2.</span> A, Jaw bones of lion; B, head of lioness from Caere vase +(Fig. 1), after Morin. Note the careful way in which the artist has +distinguished the molar from the cutting teeth.</span></div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> <img src="images/illus-166.png" width="300" height="413" +alt="Fig. 3. Paintings of fish on plates." title="" /><p class="caption" style='text-align:left;'> +<span class="sc">Fig. 3.</span> Paintings of fish on plates. Italo-Greek work of the fourth +century B. C. From Morin.</p> +<ol class='sf75' style='list-style-type:upper-roman; list-style-position:outside;'> +<li style='text-align:left;'>Sargus vulgaris.</li> +<li style='text-align:left;'>Crenilabrus mediterraneus.</li> +<li style='text-align:left;'>Uranoscopus scaber?</li></ol></div> + +<p>Animal paintings of this order are found scattered over the Greek world +with special centres or schools in such places as Cyprus, Boeotia, or +Chalcis. The very name for a painter in Greek, <i>zoographos</i>, recalls the +attention paid to living forms. By the fifth century, in painting them +as in other departments of Art, the supremacy of Attica had asserted +itself, and there are many beautiful Attic vase-paintings of animals to +place by the side of the magnificent horses’ heads of the +Parthenon (Fig. 6). In Attica, too, was early developed a characteristic +and closely accurate type of representation of marine forms, and this +attained a wider vogue in Southern Italy in the fourth century. From the +latter period a number of dishes and vases have come down to us bearing +a large variety of fish forms, portrayed with an exactness that is +interesting in view of the attention to marine creatures in the +surviving literature of Aristotelian origin (Fig. 3).</p> + +<p>These artistic products are more than a mere reflex of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +daily life of the people. The habits and positions of animals are +observed by the hunter, as are the forms and colours of fish by the +fisherman; but the methods of huntsman and fisher do not account for the +accurate portrayal of a lion’s dentition, the correct numbering of +a fish’s scales or the close study of the lie of the feathers on +the head, and the pads on the feet, of a bird of prey (Fig. 4). With +observations such as these we are in the presence of something worthy of +the name <i>Biology</i>. Though but little literature on that topic earlier +than the writings of Aristotle has come down to us, yet both the +character of his writings and such paintings and pictures as these, +suggest the existence of a strong interest and a wide literature, +biological in the modern sense, antecedent to the fourth century.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><img src="images/illus-167.png" width="400" height="269" +alt="Fig. 4. Head and talons of the Sea-eagle, Haliaëtus albicilla" title="" /> +<p class='c caption'><span class="sc">Fig. 4.</span> Head and talons of the Sea-eagle, +<i>Haliaëtus albicilla:</i></p> +<ol class='caption' style='list-style-type:upper-alpha; list-style-position:inside;'> +<li style='text-align:left; text-indent:3em;'>From an Ionic vase of the sixth century B. C.</li> +<li style='text-align:left; text-indent:3em;'>Drawn from the object.</li></ol> +<p class='c caption'>From Morin.</p></div> + +<p>Greek science, however, exhibits throughout its history a peculiar +characteristic differentiating it from the modern scientific standpoint. +Most of the work of the Greek scientist was done in relation to man. +Nature interested him mainly in relation to himself. The Greek +scientific and philosophic world was an anthropocentric world, and this +comes out in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> the overwhelming mass of medical as distinct from +biological writings that have come down to us. Such, too, is the +sentiment expressed by the poets in their descriptions of the animal +creation:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man:<br /></span> +<span class="i8"><b>…………………</b><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Sophocles, <i>Antigone</i>, verses 342 ff.<br /></span> +<span class="i12">(Translation of F. Storr.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is thus not surprising that our first systematic treatment of animals +is in a practical medical work, the <span class='t' title='peri diaitês'>περι διαιτης</span>, <i>On diet</i>, of +the Hippocratic Collection. This very peculiar treatise dates from the +later part of the fifth century. It is strongly under the influence of +Heracleitus (<i>c.</i> 540-475) and contains many points of view which +reappear in later philosophy. All animals, according to it, are formed +of fire and water, nothing is born and nothing dies, but there is a +perpetual and eternal revolution of things, so that change itself is the +only reality. Man’s nature is but a parallel to that of the +universal nature, and the arts of man are but an imitation or reflex of +the natural arts or, again, of the bodily functions. The soul, a mixture +of water and fire, consumes itself in infancy and old age, and increases +during adult life. Here, too, we meet with that singular doctrine, not +without bearing on the course of later biological thought, that in the +foetus all parts are formed simultaneously. On the proportion of fire +and water in the body all depends, sex, temper, temperament, intellect. +Such speculative ideas separate this book from the sober method of the +more typical Hippocratic medical works with which indeed it has little +in common.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +After having discussed these theoretical matters the work turns to its +own practical concerns, and in the course of setting out the natures of +foods gives in effect a rough classification of animals. These are set +forth in groups, and from among the larger groups only the reptiles and +insects are missing. The list has been described, perhaps hardly with +justification, as the <i>Coan classificatory system</i>. We have here, +indeed, no <i>system</i> in the sense in which that word is now applied to +the animal kingdom, but we have yet some sort of definite arrangement of +animals according to their supposed natures. The passage opens with +mammals, which are divided into domesticated and wild, the latter being +mentioned in order according to size, next follow the land-birds, then +the water-fowl, and then the fishes. These fish are divided into (1) the +haunters of the shore, (2) the free-swimming forms, (3) the +cartilaginous fishes or Selachii, which are not so named but are placed +together, (4) the mud-loving forms, and (5) the fresh-water fish. +Finally come invertebrates arranged in some sort of order according to +their structure. The characteristic feature of the +‘classification’ is the separation of the fish from the +remaining vertebrates and of the invertebrates from both. Of the fifty +animals named no less than twenty are fish, about a fifth of the number +studied by Aristotle, but we must remember that here only edible species +are mentioned. The existence of the work shows at least that in the +fifth century there was already a close and accurate study of animal +forms, a study that may justly be called scientific. The predominance of +fish and their classification in greater detail than the other groups is +not an unexpected feature. The Mediterranean is especially rich in these +forms, the Greeks were a maritime people, and Greek literature is full +of imagery drawn from the fisher’s craft. From Minoan to Byzantine +times the variety, beauty, and colour of fish made a deep impression on +Greek minds as reflected in their art.</p> + +<p>Much more important, however, for subsequent biological +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +development than such observations on the nature and habits of animals, +is the service that the Hippocratic physicians rendered to Anatomy and +to Physiology, departments in which the structure of man and of the +domesticated animals stands apart from that of the rest of the animal +kingdom. It is with the nature and constitution of man that most of the +surviving early biological writings are concerned, and in these +departments are unmistakable tendencies towards systematic arrangement +of the material. Thus we have division and description of the body in +sevens from the periphery to the centre and from the vertex to the sole +of the foot,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> +or a division into four regions or zones.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> +The teaching concerning the four elements and four humours too became of +great importance and some of it was later adopted by Aristotle. We also +meet numerous mechanical explanations of bodily structures, comparisons +between anatomical conditions encountered in related animals, +experiments on living creatures,<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> +systematic incubation of hen’s eggs for the study of their +development, parallels drawn between the development of plants and of +human and animal embryos, theories of generation, among which is that +which was afterwards called ‘pangenesis’—discussion of +the survival of the stronger over the weaker—almost our survival +of the fittest—and a theory of inheritance of acquired +characters.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> +All these things show not only extensive knowledge but also an attempt +to apply such knowledge to human needs. When we consider how even in +later centuries biology was linked with medicine, and how powerful and +fundamental was the influence of the Hippocratic writings, not only on +their immediate successors in antiquity, but also on the Middle Ages and +right into the nineteenth century, we shall recognize the significance +of these developments.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><img src="images/illus-170-1-a.jpg" width="400" height="320" alt="Fig. +5. MINOAN GOLD CUP. SIXTEENTH CENTURY B. C." title="" /><span class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 5.</span> MINOAN +GOLD CUP. SIXTEENTH CENTURY B. C.</span></div> +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><img src="images/illus-170-1-b.jpg" width="400" height="328" alt="Fig. +6. HORSE’S HEAD. FROM PARTHENON. 440 B. C." title="" /><span class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 6.</span> +HORSE’S HEAD. FROM PARTHENON. 440 B. C.</span></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +Such was the character of biological thought within the fifth century, +and a generation inspired by this movement produced some noteworthy +works in the period which immediately followed. In the treatise <span class='t' title='peri trophês'>περι τροφης</span>, +<i>On nourishment</i>, which may perhaps be dated about 400 <span class='lc sc'>B. +C.</span>, we learn of the pulse for the first time in Greek medical +literature, and read of a physiological system which lasted until the +time of Harvey, with the arteries arising from the heart and the veins +from the liver. Of about the same date is a work <span class='t' title='peri kardiês'>περι καρδιης</span>, +<i>On the heart</i>, which describes the ventricles as well as the great +vessels and their valves, and compares the heart of animals with that of +man.</p> + +<p>A little later, perhaps 390 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, is the treatise +<span class='t' title='peri sarkôn'>περι σαρκων</span>, +<i>On muscles</i>, which contains much more than its title suggests. It has +the old system of sevens and, inspired perhaps by the philosophy of +Heracleitus (<i>c.</i> 540-475), describes the heart as sending air, fire, +and movement to the different parts of the body through the vessels +which are themselves constantly in movement. The infant in its +mother’s womb is believed to draw in air and fire through its +mouth and to eat <i>in utero</i>. The action of the air on the blood is +compared to its action on fire. In contrast to some of the other +Hippocratic treatises the central nervous system is in the background; +much attention, however, is given to the special senses. The brain +resounds during audition. The olfactory nerves are hollow, lead to the +brain, and, convey volatile substances to it which cause it to secrete +mucus. The eyes also have been examined, and their coats and humours +roughly described; an allusion, the first in literature, is perhaps made +to the crystalline lens, and the eyes of animals are compared with those +of man. There is evidence not only of dissection but of experiment, and +in efforts to compare the resistance of various tissues to such +processes as boiling, we may see the small beginning of chemical +physiology.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +An abler work than any of these, but exhibiting less power of +observation is a treatise, <span class='t' title='peri gonês'>περι γονης</span>, +<i>On generation</i>, that may perhaps be dated about 380 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span><a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> +It exhibits a writer of much philosophic power, very anxious for +physiological explanations, but hampered by ignorance of physics. He +has, in fact, the weaknesses and in a minor degree the strength of his +successor Aristotle, of whose great work on generation he gives us a +fore-taste. He sets forth in considerable detail a doctrine of +pangenesis, not wholly unlike that of Darwin. In order to explain the +phenomena of inheritance he supposes that vessels reach the seed, +carrying with them samples from all parts of the body. He believes that +channels pass from all the organs to the brain and then to the spinal +marrow (or to the marrow direct), thence to the kidneys and on to the +genital organs; he believes, too, that he knows the actual location of +one such channel, for he observes, wrongly, that incision behind the +ears, by interrupting the passage, leads to impotence. As an outcome of +this theory he is prepared to accept inheritance of acquired characters. +The embryo develops and breathes by material transmitted from the mother +through the umbilical cord. We encounter here also a very detailed +description of a specimen of exfoliated <i>membrana mucosa uteri</i> which +our author mistakes for an embryo, but his remarks at least exhibit the +most eager curiosity.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> + +<p>The author of this work on generation is thus a ‘biologist’ +in the modern sense, and among the passages exhibiting him in this light +is his comparison of the human embryo with the chick. ‘The embryo +is in a membrane in the centre of which is the navel through which it +draws and gives its breath, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +membranes arise from the umbilical cord.... The structure of the child +you will find from first to last as I have already described.... If you +wish, try this experiment: take twenty or more eggs and let them be +incubated by two or more hens. Then each day from the second to that of +hatching remove an egg, break it, and examine it. You will find exactly +as I say, for the nature of the bird can be likened to that of man. The +membranes [you will see] proceed from the umbilical cord, and all that I +have said on the subject of the infant you will find in a bird’s +egg, and one who has made these observations will be surprised to find +an umbilical cord in a bird’s egg.’<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> + +<p>The same interest that he exhibits for the development of man and +animals he shows also for plants.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘A seed laid in the ground fills itself with the juices there +contained, for the soil contains in itself juices of every nature +for the nourishment of plants. Thus filled with juice the seed is +distended and swells, and thereby the power (= faculty <span class='t' title='hê dynamis'>ἡ δυναμις</span>) +diffused in the seed is compressed by pneuma and juice, +and bursting the seed becomes the first leaves. But a time comes +when these leaves can no longer get nourished from the juices in +the seed. Then the seed and the leaves erupt below, for urged by +the leaves the seed sends down that part of its power which is yet +concentrated within it and so the roots are produced as an +extension of the leaves. When at last the plant is well rooted +below and is drawing its nutriment from the earth, then the whole +grain disappears, being absorbed, save for the husk, which is the +most solid part; and even that, decomposing in the earth, +ultimately becomes invisible. In time some of the leaves put forth +branches. The plant being thus produced by humidity from the seed +is still soft and moist. Growing actively both above and below, it +cannot as yet bear fruit, for it has not the quality of force and +reserve (<span class='t' title='dynamis ischyrê kai piara'>δυναμις ισχυρη και πιαρα</span>) +from which a seed can be precipitated. But when, with time, the plant +becomes firmer and better rooted, it develops veins as passages +both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +upwards and downwards, and it draws from the soil not only water but +more abundantly also substances that are denser and fatter. Warmed, too, +by the sun, these act as a ferment to the extremities and give rise to +fruit after its kind. The fruit thus develops much from little, for +every plant draws from the earth a power more abundant than that with +which it started, and the fermentation takes place not at one place but +at many.’<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p></blockquote> + +<p>Nor does our author hesitate to draw an analogy between the plant and +the mammalian embryo. ‘In the same way the infant lives within its +mother’s womb and in a state corresponding to the health of the +mother ... and you will find a complete similitude between the products +of the soil and the products of the womb.’</p> + +<p>The early Greek literature is so scantily provided with illustrations +drawn from botanical study, that it is worth considering the remarkable +comparison of generation of plants from cuttings and from seeds in the +same work.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘As regards plants generated from cuttings ... +that part of a branch where it was cut from a tree is placed in the +earth and there rootlets are sent out. This is how it happens: The part +of the plant within the soil draws up juices, swells, and develops a +pneuma (<span class='t' title='pneuma ischei'>πνευμα ισχει</span>), but +not so the part without. The pneuma and the juice concentrate the power +of the plant below so that it becomes denser. Then the lower end erupts +and gives forth tender roots. Then the plant, taking from below, draws +juices from the roots and transmits them to the part above the soil +which thus also swells and develops pneuma; thus the power from being +diffused in the plant becomes concentrated and budding, gives forth +leaves.... Cuttings, then, differ from seeds. With a seed the leaves are +borne first, then the roots are sent down; with a cutting the roots form +first and then the leaves.’<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> +</blockquote> + +<p>But with these works of the early part of the fourth century the first +stage of Greek biology reaches its finest development. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +Later Hippocratic treatises which deal with physiological topics are on +a lower plane, and we must seek some external cause for the failure. Nor +have we far to seek. This period saw the rise of a movement that had the +most profound influence on every department of thought. We see the +advent into the Greek world of a great intellectual movement as a result +of which the department of philosophy that dealt with nature receded +before Ethics. Of that intellectual revolution—perhaps the +greatest the world has seen—Athens was the site and Socrates +(470-399) the protagonist. With the movement itself and its +characteristic fruit we are not concerned. But the great successor and +pupil of its founder gives us in the <i>Timaeus</i> a picture of the depth to +which natural science can be degraded in the effort to give a specific +teleological meaning to all parts of the visible Universe. The book and +the picture which it draws, dark and repulsive to the mind trained in +modern scientific method, enthralled the imagination of a large part of +mankind for wellnigh two thousand years. Organic nature appears in this +work of Plato (427-347) as the degeneration of man whom the Creator has +made most perfect. The school that held this view ultimately decayed as +a result of its failure to advance positive knowledge. As the centuries +went by its views became further and further divorced from phenomena, +and the bizarre developments of later Neoplatonism stand to this day as +a warning against any system which shall neglect the investigation of +nature. But in its decay Platonism dragged science down and destroyed by +neglect nearly all earlier biological material. Mathematics, not being a +phenomenal study, suited better the Neoplatonic mood and continued to +advance, carrying astronomy with it for a while—astronomy that +affected the life of man and that soon became the handmaid of astrology; +medicine, too, that determined the conditions of man’s life was +also cherished, though often mistakenly, but pure science was +doomed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +But though the ethical view of nature overwhelmed science in the end, +the advent of the mighty figure of Aristotle (384-322) stayed the tide +for a time. Yet the writer on Greek Biology remains at a disadvantage in +contrast with the Historian of Greek Mathematics, of Greek Astronomy, or +of Greek Medicine, in the scantiness of the materials for presenting an +account of the development of his studies before Aristotle. The huge +form of that magnificent naturalist completely overshadows Greek as it +does much of later Biology.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Charles Singer.</p> + +<h3><i>After Aristotle</i></h3> + +<p>All Aristotle’s surviving biological works refer primarily to the +animal creation. His work on plants is lost or rather has survived as +the merest corrupted fragment. We are fortunate, however, in the +possession of a couple of complete works by his pupil and successor +Theophrastus (372-287), which may not only be taken to represent the +Aristotelian attitude towards the plant world, but also give us an +inkling of the general state of biological science in the generation +which succeeded the master.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> <img src="images/illus-176-7.jpg" width="400" height="507" +alt="Fig. 7. ARISTOTLE From HERCULANEUM Probably work of fourth century +B. C." title="" /><span class="caption">Fig. 7. ARISTOTLE<br /> +From HERCULANEUM<br /> +Probably work of fourth century B. C.</span></div> + +<p>These treatises of Theophrastus are in many respects the most complete +and orderly of all ancient biological works that have reached our time. +They give an idea of the kind of interest that the working scientist of +that day could develop when inspired rather by the genius of a great +teacher than by the power of his own thoughts. Theophrastus is a +pedestrian where Aristotle is a creature of wings, he is in a relation +to the master of the same order that the morphologists of the second +half of the nineteenth century were to Darwin. For a couple of +generations after the appearance of the <i>Origin of Species</i> in 1859 the +industry and ability of naturalists all over the world were occupied in +working out in detail the structure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +and mode of life of living things on the basis of the Evolutionary +philosophy. Nearly all the work on morphology and much of that on +physiology since his time might be treated as a commentary on the works +of Darwin. These volumes of Theophrastus give the same impression. They +represent the remains—alas, almost the only biological +remains—of a school working under the impulse of a great idea and +spurred by the memory of a great teacher. As such they afford a parallel +to much scientific work of our own day, produced by men without genius +save that provided by a vision and a hope and an ideal. Of such men it +is impossible to write as of Aristotle. Their lives are summed up by +their actual achievement, and since Theophrastus is an orderly writer +whose works have descended to us in good state, he is a very suitable +instance of the actual standard of achievement of ancient biology. +‘Without vision the people perish’ and the very breath of +life of science is drawn, and can only be drawn, from that very small +band of prophets who from time to time, during the ages, have provided +the great generalizations and the great ideals. In this light let us +examine the work of Theophrastus.</p> + +<p>In the absence of any adequate system of classification, almost all +botany until the seventeenth century consisted mainly of descriptions of +species. To describe accurately a leaf or a root in the language in +ordinary use would often take pages. Modern botanists have invented an +elaborate terminology which, however hideous to eye and ear, has the +crowning merit of helping to abbreviate scientific literature. Botanical +writers previous to the seventeenth century were substantially without +this special mode of expression. It is partly to this lack that we owe +the persistent attempts throughout the centuries to represent plants +pictorially in herbals, manuscript and printed, and thus the possibility +of an adequate history of plant illustration.</p> + +<p>Theophrastus seems to have felt acutely the need of botanical +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +terms, and there are cases in which he seeks to give a special +technical meaning to words in more or less current use. Among such words +are <i>carpos</i> = fruit, <i>pericarpion</i> = seed vessel = pericarp, and +<i>metra</i>, the word used by him for the central core of any stem whether +formed of wood, pith, or other substance. It is from the usage of +Theophrastus that the exact definition of fruit and pericarp has come +down to us.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> +We may easily discern also the purpose for which he introduces into +botany the term <i>metra</i>, a word meaning primarily the <i>womb</i>, and the +vacancy in the Greek language which it was made to fill. +‘<i>Metra</i>,’ he says, ‘is that which is in the middle of +the wood, being third in order from the bark and [thus] like to the +marrow in bones. Some call it the <i>heart</i> (<span class='t' title='kardian'>καρδιαν</span>), +others the <i>inside</i> (<span class='t' title='enteriônên'>εντεριωνην</span>), +yet others call only the innermost part of the metra itself the heart, +while others again call this <i>marrow</i>.’<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> +He is thus inventing a word to cover all the different kinds of core and +importing it from another study. This is the method of modern scientific +nomenclature which hardly existed for botanists even as late as the +sixteenth century of our era. The real foundations of our modern +nomenclature were laid in the later sixteenth and in the seventeenth +century by Cesalpino and Joachim Jung.</p> + +<p>Theophrastus understood the value of developmental study, a conception +derived from his master. ‘A plant’, he says, ‘has +power of germination in all its parts, for it has life in them all, +wherefore we should regard them not for what they are but for what they +are becoming.’<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> +The various modes of plant reproduction are correctly distinguished in a +way that passes beyond the only surviving earlier treatise that deals +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +detail with the subject, the Hippocratic work <i>On generation</i>. +‘The manner of generation of trees and plants are these: +spontaneous, from a seed, from a root, from a piece torn off, from a +branch or twig, from the trunk itself, or from pieces of the wood cut up +small.’<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> +The marvel of germination must have awakened admiration from a very +early date. We have already seen it occupying a more ancient author, and +it had also been one of the chief preoccupations of Aristotle. It is +thus not remarkable that the process should impress Theophrastus, who +has left on record his views on the formation of the plant from the +seed.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘Some germinate, root and leaves, from the same point, some +separately from either end of the seed. Thus wheat, barley, spelt, +and all such cereals [germinate] from either end, corresponding to +the position [of the seed] in the ear, the root from the stout +lower part, the shoot from the upper; but the two, root and stem, +form a single continuous whole. The bean and other leguminous +plants are not so, but in them root and stem are from the same +point, namely, their place of attachment to the pod, where, it is +plain, they have their origin. In some cases there is a process, as +in beans, chick peas, and especially lupines, from which the root +grows downward, the leaf and stem upward.... In certain trees the +bud first germinates within the seed, and, as it increases in size, +the seeds split—all such seeds are, as it were, in two halves; +again, all those of leguminous plants have plainly two lobes and +are double—and then the root is immediately thrust out. But in +cereals, the seeds being in one piece, this does not happen, but +the root grows a little before [the shoot].</p> + +<p>‘Barley and wheat come up monophyllous, but peas, beans, and +chick peas polyphyllous. All leguminous plants have a single woody +root, from which grow slender side roots ... but wheat, barley, and +the other cereals have numerous slender roots by which they are +matted together.... There is a contrast between these two kinds; +the leguminous plants have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +a single root and have many side-growths above from the [single] stem +... while the cereals have many roots and send up many shoots, but these +have no side-shoots.’<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> +</blockquote> + +<p>There can be no doubt that here is a piece of minute observation on the +behaviour of germinating seeds. The distinction between dicotyledons and +monocotyledons is accurately set forth, though the stress is laid not so +much on the cotyledonous character of the seed as on the relation of +root and shoot. In the dicotyledons root and shoot are represented as +springing from the same point, and in monocotyledons from opposite poles +in the seed.</p> + +<p>No further effective work was done on the germinating seed until the +invention of the microscope, and the appearance of the work of Highmore +(1613-85),<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> +and the much more searching investigations of Malpighi +(1628-94<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> +and Grew (1641-1712)<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> +after the middle of the seventeenth century. The observations of +Theophrastus are, however, so accurate, so lucid, and so complete that +they might well be used as legends for the plates of these writers two +thousand years after him.</p> + +<p>Much has been written as to the knowledge of the sex of plants among the +ancients. It may be stated that of the sexual elements of the flower no +ancient writer had any clear idea. Nevertheless, sex is often attributed +to plants, and the simile of the <i>Loves of Plants</i> enters into works of +the poets. Plants are frequently described as male and female in ancient +biological writings also, and Pliny goes so far as to say that some +students considered that all herbs and trees were +sexual.<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> +Yet when such passages can be tested it will be found that these +so-called males and females are usually different species. +In<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +a few cases a sterile variety is described as the male and a fertile as +the female. In a small residuum of cases diœcious plants or flowers are +regarded as male and female, but with no real comprehension of the +sexual nature of the flowers. There remain the palms, in which the +knowledge of plant sex had advanced a trifle farther. ‘With +dates’, says Theophrastus, ‘the males should be brought to +the females; for the males make the fruit persist and ripen, and this +some call by analogy <i>to use the wild fig</i> +(<span class='t' title='olynthazein'>ολυνθαζειν</span>).<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> +The process is thus: when the male is in the flower they at once cut off +the spathe with the flower and shake the bloom, with its flower and +dust, over the fruit of the female, and, if it is thus treated, it +retains the fruit and does not shed it.’<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> +The fertilizing character of the spathe of the male date palm was +familiar in Babylon from a very early date. It is recorded by +Herodotus<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> +and is represented by a frequent symbol on the Assyrian monuments.</p> + +<p>The comparison of the fertilization of the date palm to the use of the +wild fig refers to the practice of Caprification. Theophrastus tells us +that there are certain trees, the fig among them, which are apt to shed +their fruit prematurely. To remedy this ‘the device adopted is +caprification. Gall insects come out of the wild figs which are hanging +there, eat the tops of the cultivated figs, and so make them +swell’.<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> +These gall-insects ‘are engendered from the seeds’.<a +name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> +Theophrastus distinguished between the process as applied to the fig and +the date, observing that ‘in both [fig and date] the<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> male aids the female—for they +call the fruit-bearing [palm] <i>female</i>—but whilst in the one there +is a union of the two sexes, in the other things are different’.<a +name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></p> + +<p>Theophrastus was not very successful in distinguishing the nature of the +primary elements of plants, though he was able to separate root, stem, +leaf, stipule, and flower on morphological as well as to a limited +extent on physiological grounds. For the root he adopts the familiar +definition, the only one possible before the rise of chemistry, that it +‘is that by which the plant draws up +nourishment’,<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> +a description that applies to the account given by the pre-Aristotelian +author of the work <span class='t' title='peri gonês'>περι γονης</span>, +<i>On generation</i>. But Theophrastus shows by many examples that he is +capable of following out morphological homologies. Thus he knows that +the ivy regularly puts forth roots from the shoots between the leaves, +by means of which it gets hold of trees and +walls,<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> +that the mistletoe will not sprout except on the bark of living trees +into which it strikes its roots, and that the very peculiar formation of +the mangrove tree is to be explained by the fact that ‘this plant +sends out roots from the shoots till it has hold on the ground and roots +again: and so there comes to be a continuous circle of roots round the +tree, not connected with the main stem, but at a distance from +it’.<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> +He does not succeed, however, in distinguishing the real nature of such +structures as bulbs, rhizomes, and tubers, but regards them all as +roots. Nor is he more successful in his discussion of the nature of +stems. As to leaves, he is more definite and satisfactory, though wholly +in the dark as to their function; he is quite clear that the pinnate +leaf of the rowan tree, for instance, is a leaf and not a branch.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding his lack of insight as to the nature of sex in flowers, +he attains to an approximately correct idea of +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +relation of flower and fruit. Some plants, he says, ‘have [the +flower] around the fruit itself as vine and olive; [the flowers] of the +latter, when they drop, look as though they had a hole through them, and +this is taken for a sign that it has blossomed well; for if [the flower] +is burnt up or sodden, the fruit falls with it, and so it does not +become pierced. Most flowers have the fruit case in the middle, or it +may be the flower is on the top of the pericarp as in pomegranate, +apple, pear, plum, and myrtle ... for these have their seeds below the +flower.... In some cases again the flower is on top of the seeds +themselves as in ... all thistle-like +plants’.<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> +Thus Theophrastus has succeeded in distinguishing between the +hypogynous, perigynous, and epigynous types of flower, and has almost +come to regard its relation to the fruit as the essential floral +element.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> <img src="images/illus-182-3.jpg" width="400" height="571" +alt="Fig. 8. THEOPHRASTUS From VILLA ALBANI Copy (second century A. D.?) +of earlier work" title="" /> <span class="caption">Fig. 8. THEOPHRASTUS<br /> +From VILLA ALBANI<br /> +Copy (second century A. D.?) of earlier work</span></div> + +<p>Theophrastus has a perfectly clear idea of plant distribution as +dependent on soil and climate, and at times seems to be on the point of +passing from a statement of climatic distribution into one of real +geographical regions. The general question of plant distribution long +remained at, if it did not recede from, the position where he left it. +The usefulness of the manuscript and early printed herbals in the West +was for centuries marred by the retention of plant descriptions prepared +for the Greek East and Latin South, and these works were saved from +complete ineffectiveness only by an occasional appeal to nature.</p> + +<p>With the death of Theophrastus about 287 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +pure biological science substantially disappears from the Greek world, +and we get the same type of deterioration that is later encountered in +other scientific departments. Science ceases to have the motive of the +desire to know, and becomes an applied study, subservient to the +practical arts. It is an attitude from which in the end applied science +itself must suffer also. Yet the centuries that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +follow were not without biological writers of very great ability. In +the medical school of Alexandria anatomy and physiology became placed on +a firm basis from about 300 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, but always in the position +subordinate to medicine that they have since occupied. Two great names +of that school, Herophilus and Erasistratus, we must consider +elsewhere.<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> +Their works have disappeared and we have the merest fragments of them. +In the last pre-Christian and the first two post-Christian centuries, +however, there were several writers, portions of whose works have +survived and are of great biological importance. Among them we include +Crateuas, a botanical writer and illustrator, who greatly developed, if +he did not actually introduce, the method of representing plants +systematically by illustration rather than by description. This method, +important still, was even more important when there was no proper system +of botanical nomenclature. Crateuas by his paintings of plants, copies +of which have not improbably descended to our time, began a tradition +which, fixed about the fifth century, remained almost rigid until the +re-discovery of nature in the sixteenth. He was physician to Mithridates +VI Eupator (120-63 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), but his work was well +known and appreciated at Rome, which became the place of resort for +Greek talent.<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></p> + +<p>Celsus, who flourished about 20 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, wrote +an excellent work on medicine, but gives all too little glimpse of +anatomy and physiology. Rufus of Ephesus, however, in the next century +practised dissection of apes and other animals. He described the +decussation of the optic nerves and the capsule of the crystalline lens, +and gave the first clear description that has survived of the structure +of the eye. He regarded the nerves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +as originating from the brain, and distinguished between nerves of +motion and of sensation. He described the oviduct of the sheep and +rightly held that life was possible without the spleen.</p> + +<p>The second Christian century brings us two writers who, while +scientifically inconsiderable, acted as the main carriers of such +tradition of Greek biology as reached the Middle Ages, Pliny and +Dioscorides. Pliny (<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 23-79), though a Latin, owes almost everything +of value in his encyclopaedia to Greek writings. In his <i>Natural +History</i> we have a collection of current views on the nature, origin, +and uses of plants and animals such as we might expect from an +intelligent, industrious, and honest member of the landed class who was +devoid of critical or special scientific skill. Scientifically the work +is contemptible, but it demands mention in any study of the legacy of +Greece, since it was, for centuries, a main conduit of the ancient +teaching and observations on natural history. Read throughout the ages, +alike in the darkest as in the more enlightened periods, copied and +recopied, translated, commented on, extracted and abridged, a large part +of Pliny’s work has gradually passed into folk-keeping, so that +through its agency the gipsy fortune-teller of to-day is still reciting +garbled versions of the formulae of Aristotle and Hippocrates of two and +a half millennia ago.</p> + +<p>The fate of Dioscorides (flourished <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 60) has been not dissimilar. +His work <i>On Materia Medica</i> consists of a series of short accounts of +plants, arranged almost without reference to the nature of the plants +themselves, but quite invaluable for its terse and striking descriptions +which often include habits and habitats. Its history has shown it to be +one of the most influential botanical treatises ever penned. It provided +most of the little botanical knowledge that reached the Middle Ages. It +furnished the chief stimulus to botanical research at the time of the +Renaissance. It has decided the general form of every modern +pharmacopœia. It has practically determined modern plant nomenclature +both popular and scientific.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +Translated into nearly every language from Anglo-Saxon and Bohemian to +Arabic and Hebrew, appearing both abstracted and in full in innumerable +beautifully illuminated manuscripts, some of which are still among the +fairest treasures of the great national libraries, Dioscorides, the +drug-monger, appealed to scholasticized minds for centuries. The +frequency with which fragments of him are encountered in papyri shows +how popular his work was in Egypt in the third and fourth centuries. One +of the earliest datable Greek codices in existence is a glorious volume +of Dioscorides written in capitals,<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> +thought worthy to form a wedding gift for a lady who was the daughter of +one Roman emperor and the betrothed of a second.<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a +href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> The illustrations of this +fifth-century manuscript are a very valuable monument for the history of +art and the chief adornment of what was once the Royal Library at +Vienna<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> +(figs. 9-10). Illustrated Latin translations of Dioscorides were in use +in the time of Cassiodorus (490-585). A work based on it, similarly +illustrated, but bearing the name of Apuleius, is among the most +frequent of mediaeval botanical documents and the earliest surviving +specimen is contemporary with Cassiodorus himself.<a +name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> +After the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +revival of learning Dioscorides continued to attract an immense +amount of philological and botanical ability, and scores of editions of +his works, many of them nobly illustrated, poured out of the presses of +the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><th colspan='2'>Fifth-century drawings from JULIANA ANICIA M.S., copied from originals +of first century B. C. (?)</th></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus-186-7-a.jpg" width="350" height="448" alt="Fig. 9 +ΣΟΓΚΟΣ ΤΡΥΦΕΡΟΣ = Crepis paludosa, Mœn." title="" /><span class="caption">Fig. 9<br /> +<span class='t' title='SOGKOS TRYPHEROS'>ΣΟΓΚΟΣ ΤΡΥΦΕΡΟΣ</span> = Crepis paludosa, Mœn.</span> +</div></td><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/illus-186-7-b.jpg" width="350" height="432" alt="Fig. 10 +ΓΕΡΑΝΙΟΝ = Geranium pyrenaicum, L." title="" /><span class="caption">Fig. 10<br /> +<span class='t' title='GERANION'>ΓΕΡΑΝΙΟΝ</span> = Geranium pyrenaicum, L.</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>But the greatest biologist of the late Greek period, and indeed one of +the greatest biologists of all time, was Claudius Galen of Pergamon (<span class='lc sc'>A. +D.</span> 131-201). Galen devoted himself to medicine from an early age, and in +his twenty-first year we hear of him studying anatomy at Smyrna under +Pelops. With the object of extending his knowledge of drugs he early +made long journeys to Asia Minor. Later he proceeded to Alexandria, +where he improved his anatomical equipment, and here, he tells us, he +examined a human skeleton. It is indeed probable that his direct +practical acquaintance with human anatomy was limited to the skeleton +and that dissection of the human body was no longer carried on at +Alexandria in his time. Thus his physiology and anatomy had to be +derived mainly from animal sources. He is the most voluminous of all +ancient scientific writers and one of the most voluminous writers of +antiquity in any department. We are not here concerned with the medical +material which mainly fills these huge volumes, but only with the +physiological views which not only prevailed in medicine until Harvey +and after, but also governed for fifteen hundred years alike the +scientific and the popular ideas on the nature and workings of the +animal body, and have for centuries been embedded in our speech. A +knowledge of these physiological views of Galen is necessary for any +understanding of the history of biology and illuminates many literary +allusions of the Middle Ages and Renaissance.</p> + +<p>Between the foundation of the Alexandrian school and the time of Galen, +medicine was divided among a great number of sects. Galen was an +eclectic and took portions of his teaching from many of these schools, +but he was also a naturalist of great ability and industry, and knew +well the value of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +experimental way. Yet he was a somewhat windy +philosopher and, priding himself on his philosophic powers, did not +hesitate to draw conclusions from evidence which was by no means always +adequate. The physiological system that he thus succeeded in building up +we may now briefly consider (fig. 11).</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 286px;"> +<img src="images/illus-189.png" width="286" height="600" alt="Fig. 11. Illustrating Galen’s +physiological teaching." title="" /> +<span class="caption"><span class="sc">Fig. 11.</span> Illustrating Galen’s +physiological teaching.</span></div> + +<p>The basic principle of life, in the Galenic physiology, is a <i>spirit</i>, +<i>anima</i> or <i>pneuma</i>, drawn from the general world-soul in the act of +respiration. It enters the body through the <i>rough artery</i> +(<span class='t' title='tracheia artêria'>τραχεια αρτηρια</span>, <i>arteria aspera</i> of mediaeval notation), the organ +known to our nomenclature as the trachea. From this trachea the pneuma +passes to the lung and then, through the <i>vein-like artery</i> +(<span class='t' title='artêria phlebôdês'>αρτηρια φλεβωδης</span>, <i>arteria venalis</i> of mediaeval writers, the +pulmonary vein of our nomenclature), to the left ventricle. Here it will +be best to leave it for a moment and trace the vascular system along a +different route.</p> + +<p>Ingested food, passing down the alimentary tract, was absorbed as chyle +from the intestine, collected by the portal vessel, and conveyed by it +to the liver. That organ, the site of the innate heat in Galen’s +view, had the power of elaborating the chyle into venous blood and of +imbuing it with a spirit or pneuma which is innate in all living +substance, so long as it remains alive, the <i>natural spirits</i> +(<span class='t' title='pneuma physikon'>πνευμα φυσικον</span>, +<i>spiritus naturalis</i> of the mediaevals). Charged with +this, and also with the nutritive material derived from the food, the +venous blood is distributed by the liver through the veins which arise +from it in the same way as the arteries from the heart. These veins +carry nourishment and <i>natural spirits</i> to all parts of the body. <i>Iecur +fons venarum</i>, the liver as the source of the veins, remained through +the centuries the watchword of the Galenic physiology. The blood was +held to ebb and flow continuously in the veins during life.</p> + +<p>Now from the liver arose one great vessel, the hepatic vein, from +division of which the others were held to come off as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +branches. Of these branches, one, our <i>common vena cava</i>, entered the +right side of the heart. For the blood that it conveyed to the heart +there were two fates possible. The greater part remained awhile in the +ventricle, parting with its impurities and vapours, exhalations of the +organs, which were carried off by the <i>artery-like vein</i> (<span +class='t' title='phleps artêriôdês'>φλεπς αρτηριωδης</span>, the mediaeval +<i>vena arterialis</i>, our pulmonary artery) to the lung and then exhaled to +the outer air. These impurities and vapours gave its poisonous and +suffocating character to the breath. Having parted thus with its +impurities, the venous blood ebbed back again from the right ventricle +into the venous system. But for a small fraction of the venous blood +that entered the right ventricle another fate was reserved. This small +fraction of venous blood, charged still with the <i>natural spirits</i> +derived from the liver, passed through minute channels in the septum +between the ventricles and entered the left chamber. Arrived there, it +encountered the external pneuma and became thereby elaborated into a +higher form of spirit, the <i>vital spirits</i> (<span class='t' +title='pneuma zôtikon'>πνευμα ζωτικον</span>, <i>spiritus vitalis</i>), which is +distributed together with blood by the arterial system to various parts +of the body. In the arterial system it also ebbed and flowed, and might +be seen and felt to pulsate there.</p> + +<p>But among the great arterial vessels that sent forth arterial blood thus +charged with vital spirits were certain vessels which ascended to the +brain. Before reaching that organ they divided up into minute channels, +the <i>rete mirabile</i> (<span class='t' title='plegma megiston thauma'>πλεγμα μεγιστον θαυμα</span>), +and passing into the brain became converted by the action of that organ +into a yet higher type of spirits, the <i>animal spirits</i> (<span class='t' +title='pneuma psychikon'>πνευμα ψυχικον</span>, <i>spiritus animalis</i>), an +ethereal substance distributed to the various parts of the body by the +structures known to-day as nerves, but believed then to be hollow +channels. The three fundamental faculties <span class='t' title='dynameis'>δυναμεις</span>), +the <i>natural</i>, the <i>vital</i>, and the <i>animal</i>, which brought into action +the corresponding functions of the body, thus originated as an +expression of the primal force or pneuma.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +This physiology, we may emphasize, is not derived from an investigation +of human anatomy. In the human brain there is no <i>rete mirabile</i>, though +such an organ is found in the calf. In the human liver there is no +<i>hepatic vein</i>, though such an organ is found in the dog. Dogs, calves, +pigs, bears, and, above all, Barbary apes were freely dissected by Galen +and were the creatures from which he derived his physiological ideas. +Many of Galen’s anatomical and physiological errors are due to his +attributing to one creature the structures found in another, a fact that +only very gradually dawned on the Renaissance anatomists.</p> + +<p>The whole knowledge possessed by the world in the department of +physiology from the third to the seventeenth century, nearly all the +biological conceptions till the thirteenth, and most of the anatomy and +much of the botany until the sixteenth century, all the ideas of the +physical structure of living things throughout the Middle Ages, were +contained in a small number of these works of Galen. The biological +works of Aristotle and Theophrastus lingered precariously in a few rare +manuscripts in the monasteries of the East; the total output of hundreds +of years of Alexandrian and Pergamenian activities was utterly +destroyed; the Ionian biological works, of which a sample has by a +miracle survived, were forgotten; but these vast, windy, ill-arranged +treatises of Galen lingered on. Translated into Latin, Syriac, Arabic, +and Hebrew, they saturated the intellectual world of the Middle Ages. +Commented on by later Greek writers, who were themselves in turn +translated into the same list of languages, they were yet again served +up under the names of such Greek writers as Oribasius, Paul of Aegina, +or Alexander of Tralles.</p> + +<p>What is the secret of the vitality of these Galenic biological +conceptions? The answer can be given in four words. <i>Galen is a +teleologist</i>; and a teleologist of a kind whose views happened to fit in +with the prevailing theological attitude of the Middle Ages, whether +Christian, Moslem, or Jewish. According<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +to him everything which exists and displays activity in the human body +originates in and is formed by an intelligent being and on an +intelligent plan, so that the organ in structure and function is the +result of that plan. ‘It was the Creator’s infinite wisdom +which selected the best means to attain his beneficent ends, and it is a +proof of His omnipotence that he created every good thing according to +His design, and thereby fulfilled His will.’<a +name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></p> + +<p>After Galen there is a thousand years of darkness, and biology ceases to +have a history. The mind of the Dark Ages turned towards theology, and +such remains of Neoplatonic philosophy as were absorbed into the +religious system were little likely to be of aid to the scientific +attitude. One department of positive knowledge must of course persist. +Men still suffered from the infirmities of the flesh and still sought +relief from them. But the books from which that advice was sought had +nothing to do with general principles nor with knowledge as such. They +were the most wretched of the treatises that still masqueraded under the +names of Hippocrates and Galen, mostly mere formularies, antidotaries, +or perhaps at best symptom lists. And, when the depression of the +western intellect had passed its worst, there was still no biological +material on which it could be nourished.</p> + +<p>The prevailing interest of the barbarian world, at last beginning to +settle into its heritage of antiquity, was with Logic. Of Aristotle +there survived in Latin dress only the <i>Categories</i> and the <i>De +interpretatione</i>, the merciful legacy of Boethius, the last of the +philosophers. Had a translation of Aristotle’s <i>Historia +animalium</i> or <i>De generatione animalium</i> survived, had a Latin version +of the Hippocratic work <i>On generation</i> or of the treatises of +Theophrastus <i>On plants</i> reached the earlier Middle Ages, the whole +mental history<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +of Europe might have been different and the rediscovery +of nature might have been antedated by centuries. But this was a change +of heart for which the world had long to wait; something much less was +the earliest biological gift of Greece. The gift, when it came, came in +two forms, one of which has not been adequately recognized, but both are +equally her legacy. These two forms are, firstly, the well-known work of +the early translators and, secondly, the tardily recognized work of +certain schools of minor art.</p> + +<p>The earliest biological treatises to become accessible in the west were +rendered not from Greek but from Arabic.<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a> +The first of them was perhaps the treatise <span class='t' title='peri +myôn kinêseôs'>περι μυων κινησεως</span>, <i>On movement of muscles</i> of Galen, a +work which contains more than its title suggests and indeed sets forth +much of the Galenic physiological system. It was rendered into Latin +from the Arabic of Joannitius (Hunain ibn Ishaq, 809-73), probably about +the year 1200, by one Mark of Toledo. It attracted little attention, but +very soon after biological works of Aristotle began to become +accessible. The first was probably the fragment <i>On plants</i>. The Greek +original of this is lost, and besides the Latin, only an Arabic version +of a former Arabic translation of a Syriac rendering of a Greek +commentary is now known! Such a work appeared from the hand of a +translator known as Alfred the Englishman about 1220 or a little later. +Neither it nor another work from the same translator, <i>On the motion of +the heart</i>, which sought to establish the primacy of that organ on +Aristotelian grounds, can be said to contain any of the spirit of the +master.<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +A little better than these is the work of the wizard Michael the Scot +(1175?-1234?). Roger Bacon tells us that Michael in 1230 ‘appeared +[at Oxford], bringing with him the works of Aristotle in natural history +and mathematics, with wise expositors, so that the philosophy of +Aristotle was magnified among the Latins’.<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> +Scott produced his work <i>De animalibus</i> about this date and he included +in it the three great biological works of Aristotle, all rendered from +an inferior Arabic version.<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> +Albertus Magnus (1206-80) had not as yet a translation direct from the +Greek to go upon for his great commentary on the <i>History of animals</i>, +but he depended on Scott. The biological works of Aristotle were +rendered into Latin direct from the Greek in the year 1260 probably by +William of Moerbeke.<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> +Such translations, appearing in the full scholastic age when everything +was against direct observation, cannot be said to have fallen on a +fertile ground. They presented an ordered account of nature and a good +method of investigation, but those were gifts to a society that knew +little of their real value.<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></p> + +<p>Yet the advent of these texts was coincident with a returning desire to +observe nature. Albert, with all his scholasticism, was no contemptible +naturalist. He may be said to have begun first-hand plant study in +modern times so far as literary records are concerned. His book <i>De +vegetabilibus</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +contains excellent observations, and he is worthy of inclusion among +the fathers of botany. In his vast treatise <i>De animalibus</i>, hampered as +he is by his learning and verbosity, he shows himself a true observer +and one who has absorbed something of the spirit of the great naturalist +to whose works he had devoted a lifetime of study and on which he +professes to be commenting. We see clearly the leaven of the +Aristotelian spirit working, though Albert is still a schoolman. We may +select for quotation a passage on the generation of fish, a subject on +which some of Aristotle’s most remarkable descriptions remained +unconfirmed till modern times. These descriptions impressed Albert in +the same way as they do the modern naturalist. To those who know nothing +of the stimulating power of the Aristotelian biological works, +Albert’s description of the embryos of fish and his accurate +distinction of their mode of development from that of birds, by the +absence of an allantoic membrane in the one and its presence in the +other, must surely be startling. Albert depends on Aristotle—a +third-hand version of Aristotle—but does not slavishly follow him.</p> + +<p>‘Between the mode of development (<i>anathomiam generationis</i>) of +birds’ and fishes’ eggs there is this difference: during the +development of the fish the second of the two veins which extend from +the heart [as described by Aristotle in birds] does not exist. For we do +not find the vein which extends to the outer covering in the eggs of +birds which some wrongly call the navel because it carries the blood to +the exterior parts; but we do find the vein that corresponds to the yolk +vein of birds, for this vein imbibes the nourishment by which the limbs +increase.... In fishes as in birds, channels extend from the heart first +to the head and the eyes, and first in them appear the great upper +parts. As the growth of the young fish increases the albumen decreases, +being incorporated into the members of the young fish, and it disappears +entirely when development and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +formation are complete. The beating of the heart ... is conveyed to the +lower part of the belly, carrying pulse and life to the inferior +members.</p> + +<p>‘While the young [fish] are small and not yet fully developed they +have veins of great length which take the place of the navel-string, but +as they grow and develop, these shorten and contract into the body +towards the heart, as we have said about birds. The young fish and the +eggs are enclosed and in a covering, as are the eggs and young of birds. +This covering resembles the dura mater [of the brain], and beneath it is +another [corresponding therefore to the pia mater of the brain] which +contains the young animal and nothing else.’<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></p> + +<p>In the next century Conrad von Megenberg (1309-98) produced his <i>Book of +Nature</i>, a complete work on natural history, the first of the kind in +the vernacular, founded on Latin versions, now rendered direct from the +Greek, of the Aristotelian and Galenic biological works. It is well +ordered and opens with a systematic account of the structure and +physiology of man as a type of the animal creation, which is then +systematically described and followed by an account of plants. Conrad, +though guided by Aristotle, uses his own eyes and ears, and with him and +Albert the era of direct observation has begun.<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></p> + +<p>But there was another department in which the legacy of Greece found an +even earlier appreciation. For centuries the illustrations to herbals +and bestiaries had been copied from hand to hand, continuing a tradition +that had its rise with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +Greek artists of the first century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> But +their work, copied at each stage without reference to the object, moved +constantly farther from resemblance to the original. At last the +illustrations became little but formal patterns, a state in which they +remained in some late copies prepared as recently as the sixteenth +century. But at a certain period a change set in, and the artist, no +longer content to rely on tradition, appeals at last to nature. This new +stirring in art corresponds with the new stirring in letters, the +Arabian revival—itself a legacy of Greece, though sadly deteriorated in +transit—that gave rise to scholasticism. In much of the beautiful +carved and sculptured work of the French cathedrals the new movement +appears in the earlier part of the thirteenth century. At such a place +as Chartres we see the attempt to render plants and animals faithfully +in stone as early as 1240 or before. In the easier medium of parchment +the same tendency appears even earlier. When once it begins the process +progresses slowly until the great recovery of the Greek texts in the +fifteenth century, when it is again accelerated.</p> + +<p>During the sixteenth century the energy of botanists and zoologists was +largely absorbed in producing most carefully annotated and illustrated +editions of Dioscorides and Theophrastus and accounts of animals, +habits, and structure that were intended to illustrate the writings of +Aristotle, while the anatomists explored the bodies of man and beast to +confirm or refute Galen. The great monographs on birds, fishes, and +plants of this period, ostensibly little but commentaries on Pliny, +Aristotle, and Dioscorides, represent really the first important efforts +of modern times at a natural history. They pass naturally into the +encyclopaedias of the later sixteenth century, and these into the +physiological works of the seventeenth. Aristotle was never a dead hand +in Biology as he was in Physics, and this for the reason that he was a +great biologist but was not a great physicist.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> + +<p>With the advance of the sixteenth century the works of Aristotle, and to +a less extent those of Dioscorides and Galen, became the great stimulus +to the foundation of a new biological science. Matthioli (1520-77), in +his commentary on Dioscorides (first edition 1544), which was one of the +first works of its type to appear in the vernacular, made a number of +first-hand observations on the habits and structure of plants that is +startling even to a modern botanist. About the same time Galenic +physiology, expressed also in numerous works in the vulgar tongue and +rousing the curiosity of the physicians, became the clear parent of +modern physiology and comparative anatomy. But, above all, the +Aristotelian biological works were fertilizers of the mind. It is very +interesting to watch a fine observer such as Fabricius ab Acquapendente +(1537-1619) laying the foundations of modern embryology in a splendid +series of first-hand observations, treating his own great researches +almost as a commentary on Aristotle. What an impressive contrast to the +arid physics of the time based also on Aristotle! ‘My +purpose’, says Fabricius, ‘is to treat of the formation of +the foetus in every animal, setting out from that which proceeds from +the egg: for this ought to take precedence of all other discussion of +the subject, both because it is not difficult to make out +Aristotle’s view of the matter, and because his treatise on the +Formation of the Foetus from the egg is by far the fullest, and the +subject is by much the most extensive and difficult.’<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></p> + +<p>The industrious and careful Fabricius, with a wonderful talent for +observation lit not by his own lamp but by that of Aristotle, bears a +relation to the master much like that held by Aristotle’s pupil in +the flesh, Theophrastus. The works of the two men, Fabricius and +Theophrastus, bear indeed a resemblance to each other. Both rely on the +same group of general ideas, both progress in much the same ordered calm +from observation to observation, both have an inspiration +which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +is efficient and stimulating but below the greatest, both are +enthusiastic and effective as investigators of fact, but timid and +ineffective in drawing conclusions.</p> + +<p>But Fabricius was more happy in his pupils than Theophrastus, for we may +watch the same Aristotelian ideas fermenting in the mind of +Fabricius’s successor, the greatest biologist since Aristotle +himself, William Harvey (1578-1657).<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> +This writer’s work <i>On generation</i> is a careful commentary on +Aristotle’s work on the same topic, but it is a commentary not in +the old sense but in the spirit of Aristotle himself. Each statement is +weighed and tested in the light of experience, and the younger +naturalist, with all his reverence for Aristotle, does not hesitate to +criticize his conclusions. He exhibits an independence of thought, an +ingenuity in experiment, and a power of deduction that places his +treatise as the middle term of the three great works on embryology of +which the other members are those of Aristotle and Karl Ernst von Baer +(1796-1876).<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></p> + +<p>With the second half of the seventeenth century and during a large part +of the eighteenth the biological works of Aristotle attracted less +attention. The battle against the Aristotelian physics had been fought +and won, but with them the biological works of Aristotle unjustly passed +into the shadow that overhung all the idols of the Middle Ages.</p> + +<p>The rediscovery of the Aristotelian biology is a modern thing. The +collection of the vast wealth of living forms absorbed the energies of +the generations of naturalists from Ray (1627-1705) and Willoughby +(1635-72) to Réaumur (1683-1757) and Linnaeus (1707-1778) and beyond to +the nineteenth century. The magnitude and fascination of the work seems +almost to have excluded general ideas. With the end of this period and +the advent of a more philosophical type of naturalist,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +such as Cuvier (1769-1832) and members of the Saint-Hilaire family, +Aristotle came again to his own. Since the dawn of the nineteenth +century, and since naturalists have been in a position to verify the +work of Aristotle, his reputation as a naturalist has continuously +risen. Johannes Müller (1801-58), Richard Owen (1804-92), George +Henry Lewes (1817-78), William Ogle (1827-1912) are a few of the long +line of those who have derived direct inspiration from his biological +work. With improved modern methods of investigation the problems of +generation have absorbed a large amount of biological attention, and +interest has become specially concentrated on Aristotle’s work on +that topic which is perhaps, at the moment, more widely read than any +biological treatise, ancient or modern, except the works of Darwin. That +great naturalist wrote to Ogle in 1882: ‘From quotations I had +seen I had a high notion of Aristotle’s merits, but I had not the +most remote notion what a wonderful man he was. Linnaeus and Cuvier have +been my two gods, though in very different ways, but they were mere +schoolboys to old Aristotle.’</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Charles Singer.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MEDICINE" id="MEDICINE"></a>MEDICINE</h2> + +<blockquote><p>Ἡροφιλος δε εν τω Διαιτητικω και σοφιαν φησιν ανεπιδεικτον και τεχνην +αδηλον και ισχυν αναγωνιστον και πλουτον αχρειον και λογον αδυνατον, +ὑγιειας απουσης.</p> + +<p>{Hêrophilos de en tô Diaitêtikô kai sophian phêsin anepideikton kai +technên adêlon kai ischyn anagôniston kai plouton achreion kai logon +adynaton, hygieias apousês.}</p></blockquote> + +<p>Herophilos, a Greek philosopher and physician (<i>c.</i> 300 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), +has truly written ‘that Science and Art have equally nothing to +show, that Strength is incapable of effort, Wealth useless, and +Eloquence powerless if Health be wanting’.<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> +All peoples therefore have had their methods of treating those +departures from health that we call disease, and among peoples of higher +culture such methods have been reduced in most cases to something +resembling a system. In antiquity, as now, a variety of such systems +were in vogue, and those nations who practised the art of writing from +an early date have left considerable records of their medical methods +and doctrines. We may thus form a fairly good idea of the medical +principles of the Mesopotamian, the Egyptian, the Iranian, the Indian, +and the Chinese civilizations. Much in these systems, as in the medical +procedure of more primitive tribes, was based upon some theory of +disease which fitted in with a larger theory of the nature of evil. Of +these theories the commonest was and is the demonic, the view that +regards deviation from the normal state of health as due either to the +attacks of supernatural beings or to their actual entry into the body of +the sufferer. A medical system based on such a view is susceptible of +great elaboration in a higher civilization, but not being founded +on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +observation is hardly capable of indefinite development, for a point +must ultimately be reached at which the mind recoils from complex +conclusions far remote from observed phenomena. The medicine of the +ancient and settled civilization of such a people as the +Assyro-Babylonians, for instance, of which substantial traces have been +recovered, is hardly, if at all, more effective, though far more +systematized, than that of many a wild and unlettered tribe that may be +observed to-day. Of such medicine as this we may give an account, but we +can hardly write a <i>history</i>. We cannot establish those elements of +continuity and of development from which alone history can be +constructed.</p> + +<p>It is the distinction of the Greeks alone among the nations of antiquity +that they practised a system of medicine based not on theory but on +observation accumulated systematically as time went on. The claim can be +made for the Greeks that some at least among them were deflected by no +theory, were deceived by no theurgy, were hampered by no tradition in +their search for the facts of disease and in their attempts at +interpreting its phenomena. Only the Greeks among the ancients could +look on their healers as <i>physicians</i> (= naturalists, <span class='t' title='physis'>φυσις</span> = +nature), and that word itself stands as a lasting reminder of their +achievement.<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></p> + +<p>At a certain stage in the history of the Western world—the exact point +in time may be disputed but the event is admitted by all—men turned to +explore the treasures of the ancient wisdom and the whole mass of Greek +medical learning was gradually laid before the student. That mass +contained much dross, material that survived from early as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +from late Greek times which was hardly, if at all, superior to the +debased compositions that circulated in the name of medicine in the +middle centuries. But the recovered Greek medical writings also +contained some material of the purest and most scientific type, and that +material and the spirit in which it was written, form the debt of modern +medicine to antiquity.</p> + +<p>It is a debt the value of which cannot be exaggerated. The physicians of +the revival of learning, and for long after, doubtless pinned their +faith too much to the written word of their Greek forbears and sought to +imprison the free spirit of Hippocrates and Galen in the rigid wall of +their own rediscovered texts. The great medical pioneers of a somewhat +later age, enraged by this attempt, the real nature of which was largely +hidden from them, not infrequently revolted and rightly revolted against +the bondage to the Greeks in which they had been brought up. Yet it is +sure that these modern discoverers were the true inheritors of the +Greeks. Without Herophilus we should have had no Harvey and the rise of +physiology might have been delayed for centuries; had Galen’s +works not survived, Vesalius would never have reconstructed Anatomy, and +Surgery too might have stayed behind with her laggard sister, Medicine; +the Hippocratic collection was the necessary and acknowledged basis for +the work of the greatest of modern clinical observers, Thomas Sydenham, +and the teaching of Hippocrates and of his school is the substantial +basis of instruction in the wards of a modern hospital. In the pages +which follow we propose therefore to review the general character of +medical knowledge in the best Greek period and to consider briefly how +much of that great heritage remained accessible to the earlier modern +physicians. The reader will thus be able to form some estimate of the +degree to which the legacy has been passed on to our own times.</p> + +<p>It is evident that among such a group of peoples as the Greeks, varying +in state of civilization, in mental power, in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +geographical and economic position and in general outlook, the practice +of medicine can have been by no means uniform. Without any method of +centralizing medical education and standardizing teaching there was a +great variety of doctrines and of practice in vogue among them, and much +of this was on a low level of folk custom. Such lower grade material of +Greek origin has come down to us in abundance, though much of it, +curiously enough, from a later time. But the overwhelming mass of +earlier Greek medical literature sets forth for us a pure scientific +effort to observe and to classify disease, to make generalizations from +carefully collected data, to explain the origin of disease on rational +grounds, and to apply remedies, when possible, on a reasoned basis. We +may thus rest fairly well assured that, despite serious and irreparable +losses, we are still in possession of some of the very finest products +of the Greek medical intellect.</p> + +<p>There is ample evidence that the Greeks inherited, in common with many +other peoples of Mediterranean and Asiatic origin, a whole system of +magical or at least non-rational pharmacy and medicine from a remoter +ancestry. Striking parallels can be drawn between these folk elements +among the Greeks and the medical systems of the early Romans, as well as +with the medicine of the Indian Vedas, of the ancient Egyptians, and of +the earliest European barbarian writings. It is thus reasonable to +suppose that these elements, when they appear in later Greek writings, +represent more primitive folk elements working up, under the influence +of social disintegration and consequent mental deterioration, through +the upper strata of the literate Greek world. But with these elements, +intensely interesting to the anthropologist, the psychologist, the +ethnologist, and to the historian of religion, we are not here greatly +concerned. Important as they are, they constitute no part of the special +claim of the Greek people to distinction, but rather aid us in uniting +the Greek mentality with that of other kindred peoples. Here we shall +rather discuss the course of Greek scientific medicine proper, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +type of medical doctrine and practice, capable of development in the +proper sense of the word, that forms the basis of our modern system. We +are concerned, in fact, with the earliest evolutionary medicine.</p> + +<p>We need hardly discuss the first origins of Greek Medicine. The material +is scanty and the conclusions somewhat doubtful and perhaps premature, +for the discovery of a considerable fragment of the historical work of +Menon, a pupil of Aristotle, containing a description of the views of +some of the precursors of the Hippocratic school, renews a hope that +more extended investigation may yield further information as to the +sources and nature of the earliest Greek medical +writings.<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> +The study of Mesopotamian star-lore has linked it up with early Greek +astronomical science. The efforts of cuneiform scholars have not, +however, been equally successful for medicine, and on the whole the +general tendency of modern research is to give less weight to +Mesopotamian and more to Egyptian sources than had previously been +admitted; thus very recently an Egyptian medical papyrus of about 1700 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> has been described which bears a distinct resemblance to some of +the Hippocratic treatises.<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> +A number of drugs, too, habitually used by the Greeks, such as +<i>Andropogon</i>, <i>Cardamoms</i>, and <i>Sesame orientalis</i>, are of Indian +origin. There are also the Minoan cultures to be considered, and though +our knowledge is not yet sufficient to speak of the heritage that Greek +medicine may or may not have derived from that source, it seems not +improbable that Greek hygiene may here owe a debt.<a +name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a> +Omitting, therefore, this early epoch, we pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +direct to the later period, between the sixth and fourth centuries, +from which documents have actually come down to us.</p> + +<p>The earliest medical school of which we have definite information is +that of Cnidus, a Lacedaemonian colony in Asiatic Doris. Its origin may +perhaps reach back to the seventh century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +We have actual records that the teachers of Cnidus were accustomed to +collect systematically the phenomena of disease, of which they had +produced a very complex classification, and we probably possess also +several of their actual works. The physicians of Cos, their only +contemporary critics whose writings have survived, considered that the +Cnidian physicians paid too much attention to the actual sensations of +the patient and to the physical signs of the disease. The most important +of the Cnidian doctrines were drawn up in a series of <i>Sentences</i> or +Aphorisms, and these, it appears, inculcated a treatment along Egyptian +lines of the symptom or at most the disease, rather than the patient, a +statement borne out by the contents of the gynaecological works of +probable Cnidian origin included in the so-called ‘Hippocratic +Collection’. A few names of Cnidian physicians have, moreover, +come down to us with titles of their works, and a later statement that +they practised anatomy. There can be little doubt too that the Cnidian +school drew also on Persian and Indian Medicine.</p> + +<p>The origin of the school of the neighbouring island of Cos was a little +later than that of Cnidus and probably dates from the sixth century +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> Of the Coan school, or at least of the general tendencies that it +represented, we have a magnificent and copious literary monument in the +Corpus Hippocraticum, a collection which was probably put together in +the early part of the third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> by a commission of Alexandrian +scholars at the order of the book-loving Ptolemy Soter (reigned 323-285 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). The elements of which this collection is composed are of varying +dates from the sixth to the fourth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, and of varying value +and origin, but they mainly represent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +the point of view of physicians of the eastern part of the Greek world +in the fifth and fourth centuries.</p> + +<p>The most obvious feature, the outstanding element that at once strikes +the modern observer in these ‘Coan’ writings, is the +enormous emphasis laid on the actual course of disease. ‘It +appears to me a most excellent thing’, so opens one of the +greatest of the Hippocratic works, ‘for a physician to cultivate +<i>pronoia</i>.<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a> +Foreknowing and foretelling in the presence of the sick +the past, present, and future (of their symptoms) and explaining all +that the patients are neglecting, he would be believed to understand +their condition, so that men would have confidence to entrust themselves +to his care.... Thus he would win just respect and be a good physician. +By an earlier forecast in each case he would be more able to tend those +aright who have a chance of surviving, and by foreseeing and stating who +will die, and who will survive, he will escape blame....’<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></p> + +<p>Just as the Cnidians by dividing up diseases according to symptoms +over-emphasized diagnosis and over-elaborated treatment, so the Coans +laid very great force on prognosis and adopted therefore a largely +expectant attitude towards diseases. Both Cnidian and Coan physicians +were held together by a common bond which was, historically if not +actually, related to temple worship. Physicians leagued together in the +name of a god, as were the Asclepiadae, might escape, and did escape, +the baser theurgic elements of temple medicine. Of these they were as +devoid as a modern Catholic physician might be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +expected to be free from the absurdities of Lourdes. But the extreme +cult of prognosis among the Coans may not improbably be traced back to +the medical lore of the temple soothsayers whose divine omens were +replaced by indications of a physical nature in the patient himself.<a +name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> +We are tempted too to link it with that process of astronomical and +astrological prognosis practised in the Mesopotamian civilizations from +which Ionia imitated and derived so much. Religion had thus the same +relation to medicine that it would have with a modern +‘religious’ medical man as suggesting the motive and +determining the general direction of his practice though without +influence on the details and method.</p> + +<p>During the development of the Coan medical school along these lines in +the sixth and fifth centuries, there was going on a most remarkable +movement at the very other extreme of the Greek world. Into the course +and general importance of Sicilian philosophy it is not our place to +enter, but that extraordinary movement was not without its repercussion +on medical theory and practice. Very important in this direction was +Empedocles of Agrigentum (<i>c.</i> 500-<i>c.</i> 430 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). +His view that the blood is the seat of the ‘innate heat’, +<span class='t' title='emphyton thermon'>εμφυτον θερμον</span>, he took from folk belief—‘the blood is the +life’—and this innate heat he closely identified with soul. +More profitable was his doctrine that breathing takes place not only +through what are now known as the respiratory passages but also through +the pores of the skin. His teaching led to a belief in the heart as the +centre of the vascular system and the chief organ of the +‘pneuma’ which was distributed by the blood vessels. This +pneuma was equivalent to both soul and life, but it was something more. +It was identified with air and breath, and the pneuma could be seen to +rise as shimmering steam from the shed blood of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +sacrificial victim—for was not the blood its natural home? There +was a pneuma, too, that interpenetrated the universe around us and gave +it those qualities of life that it was felt to possess. Anaximenes (<i>c.</i> +610-<i>c.</i> 545 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), an Ionian predecessor of Empedocles, may be said to +have defined for us these functions of the pneuma; ὁιον ἡ ψυχη ἡ ἡμετερα +αηρ ουσα συγκρατει ἡμας, ὁλον τον κοσμον πνευμα και αηρ περιεχει {hoion +hê psychê hê hêmetera aêr ousa synkratei hêmas, holon ton kosmon pneuma +kai aêr periechei}, ‘As our soul, being air, sustains us, so +pneuma and air pervade the whole universe’;<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a> +but it is the speculation of Empedocles himself that came to be regarded +as the basis of the Pneumatic School in Medicine which had later very +important developments.</p> + +<p>Another early member of the Western school who made important +contributions to medical doctrine—in which relation alone we need +consider him—was Pythagoras of Samos (<i>c.</i> 580-<i>c.</i>490 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). +For him number, as the purest conception, formed the basis of +philosophy. Unity was the symbol of perfection and corresponded to God +Himself. The material universe was represented by 2, and was divided by +the number 12, whence we have 3 worlds and 4 spheres. These in turn, +according at least to the later Pythagoreans, give rise to the four +elements, earth, air, fire, and water—a primary doctrine of +medicine and of science derived perhaps from ancient Egypt and surviving +for more than two millennia. The Pythagoreans taught, too, of the +existence of an animal soul, an emanation of the soul of the universe. +In all this we may distinguish the germ of that doctrine of the relation +of man and universe, microcosm and macrocosm, which, suppressed as +irrelevant in the Hippocratic works, reappears in the Platonic and +especially in the Neoplatonic writings, and forms a very important dogma +in later medicine.</p> + +<p>A pupil of Pythagoras and an older contemporary of Empedocles was +Alcmaeon of Croton (<i>c.</i> 500 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), +who began to construct a positive basis for medical science by the +practice<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +of dissection of animals, and discovered the optic nerves and the +Eustachian tubes. He even extended his researches to Embryology, +describing the head of the foetus as the first part to be +developed—a justifiable deduction from appearances. Alcmaeon +introduced also the doctrine that health depends on harmony, disease on +discord of the elements within the body. Curiosity as to the +distribution of the vessels was excited by Empedocles and Alcmaeon and +led to further dissection, and Alcmaeon’s pupils Acron (<i>c.</i> 480 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) and Pausanias (<i>c.</i> 480 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), +and the later Philistion of Lokri,<a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a> +the contemporary of Plato, all made anatomical investigations.</p> + +<p>The views of Empedocles, and especially his doctrine that regarded the +heart as the main site of the pneuma, though rejected by the Coan school +as a whole, were not without influence on Ionia. Diogenes of Apollonia, +the philosopher of pneumatism, a late fifth-century writer who must have +been contemporary with Hippocrates the Great, himself made an +investigation of the blood vessels; and the influence of the same school +may be traced in a little work <span class='t' title='peri kardiês'>περι καρδιης</span>, +<i>On the heart</i>, which is the best anatomical treatise of the Hippocratic +Collection. This work describes the aorta and the pulmonary artery as +well as the three valves at the root of each of the great vessels, and +it speaks of experiments to test their validity. It treats of the +pericardium and of the pericardial fluid and perhaps of the musculi +papillares, and contrasts the thickness of the walls of right and left +ventricles. The author considers that the left ventricle is empty of +blood—as indeed it is after death—and is the source of the +innate heat and of the absolute intelligence. These views fit in with +the doctrines of Empedocles, so that we may perhaps even venture to +regard this work as a surviving document of the Sicilian school. It is +interesting to observe that we have here the first hint of human +dissection, for the author tells us that the hearts of animals may +be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> +compared to that of man. The distinction of having been the +first to write on human anatomy, as such, belongs however, probably to a +later writer, Diocles, son of Archidamus of Carystus, who lived in the +fourth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span><a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></p> + +<p>We may now turn to the Hippocratic Corpus as a whole. This collection +consists of about 60 or 70 separate works, written at various periods +and in various states of preservation. At best only a very small +proportion of them can be attributed to Hippocrates, but the discussion +of the general question of the ‘genuineness’ of the works is +now admitted to be futile, for it is certain that we have no criteria +whatever to determine whether or no a particular work be from the pen of +the Father of Medicine, and the most we can ever say of such a treatise +is that it appears to be of his school and in his spirit. Yet among the +great gifts of this collection to our time and to all time are two which +stand out above all others, the picture of a man, and the picture of a +method.</p> + +<p>The man is Hippocrates himself. Of the actual details of his life we +know next to nothing. His period of greatest activity falls about 400 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> He seems to have led a wandering life. +Born of a long line of physicians in the island of Cos, he exerted his +activities in Thrace, Abdera, Delos, the Propontis (Cyzicus), Thasos, +Thessaly (notably at Larissa and Meliboea), Athens, and elsewhere, dying +at Larissa in extreme old age about the year 377 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +He had many pupils, among whom were his two sons Thessalus and Dracon, +who also undertook journeys, his son-in-law Polybus, of whose works a +fragment has been preserved for us by Aristotle,<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a> +together with three other Coans bearing the names Apollonius, Dexippus, +and Praxagoras. This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +is practically all we know of him with certainty. But though this +glimpse is very dim and distant, yet we cannot exaggerate the influence +on the course of medicine and the value for physicians of all time of +the traditional picture that was early formed of him and that may indeed +well be drawn again from the works bearing his name. In beauty and +dignity that figure is beyond praise. Perhaps gaining in stateliness +what he loses in clearness, Hippocrates will ever remain the type of the +perfect physician. Learned, observant, humane, with a profound reverence +for the claims of his patients, but an overmastering desire that his +experience shall benefit others, orderly and calm, disturbed only by +anxiety to record his knowledge for the use of his brother physicians +and for the relief of suffering, grave, thoughtful and reticent, pure of +mind and master of his passions, this is no overdrawn picture of the +Father of Medicine as he appeared to his contemporaries and successors. +It is a figure of character and virtue which has had an ethical value to +medical men of all ages comparable only to the influence exerted on +their followers by the founders of the great religions. If one needed a +maxim to place upon the statue of Hippocrates, none could be found +better than that from the book <span class='t' title='Parangeliai'>Παραγγελιαι</span>, +<i>Precepts</i>:</p> + +<p class='c'><span class='t' title='ên gar parê philanthrôpiê paresti kai philotechniê'>ην γαρ παρη φιλανθρωπιη παρεστι και φιλοτεχνιη</span></p> +<p class='c'>‘Where the love of man is, there also is love of the Art.’<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></p> + +<p>The numerous busts of him which have reached our time are no portraits. +But the best of them are something much better and more helpful to us +than any portrait. They are idealized representations of the kind of man +a physician should be and was in the eyes of the best and wisest of the +Greeks.<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus-212-3-a.jpg" width="400" height="437" alt="Fig. 1. HIPPOCRATES +British Museum, second or third century B. C." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 1. HIPPOCRATES<br /> +British Museum, second or third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></span></div></td> +<td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/illus-212-3-b.jpg" width="300" height="437" alt="Fig. 2. ASCLEPIUS +British Museum, fourth century B. C." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 2. ASCLEPIUS<br /> +British Museum, fourth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></span></div></td></tr></table></div> + +<p>The method of the Hippocratic writers is that known to-day as the +‘inductive’. Without the vast scientific heritage that is in +our own hands, with only a comparatively small number of observations +drawn from the Coan and neighbouring schools, surrounded by all manner +of bizarre oriental religions in which no adequate relation of cause and +effect was recognized, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +above all constantly urged by the exuberant genius for speculation of +that Greek people in the midst of whom they lived and whose intellectual +temptations they shared, they remain nevertheless, for the most part, +patient observers of fact, sceptical of the marvellous and the +unverifiable, hesitating to theorize beyond the data, yet eager always +to generalize from actual experience; calm, faithful, effective servants +of the sick. There is almost no type of mental activity known to us that +was not exhibited by the Greeks and cannot be paralleled from their +writings; but careful and constant return to verification from +experience, expressed in a record of actual observations—the +habitual method adopted in modern scientific departments—is rare +among them except in these early medical authors.</p> + +<p>The spirit of their practice cannot be better illustrated than by the +words of the so-called ‘Hippocratic oath’. That document, +though of late date in its present form, throws a flood of light on the +ethics of Greek medicine.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘I swear by Apollo the physician and Asclepius and Hygieia +and Panacea, invoking all the gods and goddesses to be my +witnesses, that I will fulfil this Oath and this written covenant +to the best of my power and of my judgment.</p> + +<p>‘I will look upon him who shall have taught me this art even +as on mine own parents; I will share with him my substance, and +supply his necessities if he be in need; I will regard his +offspring even as my own brethren, and will teach them this art, if +they desire to learn it, without fee or covenant. I will impart it +by precept, by lecture and by all other manner of teaching, not +only to my own sons but also to the sons of him who has taught me, +and to disciples bound by covenant and oath according to the law of +the physicians, but to none other.</p> + +<p>‘The regimen I adopt shall be for the benefit of the patients +to the best of my power and judgment, not for their injury or for +any wrongful purpose. I will not give a deadly drug to any one, +though it be asked of me, nor will I lead the way in such counsel; +and likewise I will not give a woman a pessary to procure abortion. +But I will keep my life and my art in purity and holiness. +Whatsoever house I enter, I will enter for the benefit of the sick, +refraining from all voluntary wrongdoing and corruption, especially +seduction of male or female, bond<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +or free. Whatsoever things I see or hear concerning the life of men, in +my attendance on the sick or even apart from my attendance, which ought +not to be blabbed abroad, I will keep silence on them, counting such +things to be as religious secrets.</p> + +<p>‘If I fulfil this oath and confound it not, be it mine to +enjoy life and art alike, with good repute among all men for all +time to come; but may the contrary befall me if I transgress and +violate my oath.’<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Respected equally throughout the ages by Arab, Jew, and Christian, the +oath remains the watchword of the profession of +medicine.<a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> +The ethical value of such a declaration could not escape the attention +even of a Byzantine formalist, and it is interesting to observe that in +our oldest Greek manuscript of the Hippocratic text, dating from the +tenth century, this magnificent passage is headed by the words +‘from the oath of Hippocrates according as it may be sworn by a +Christian.’<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a></p> + +<p>When we examine the Hippocratic corpus more closely, we discern that not +only are the treatises by many hands, but there is not even a uniform +opinion and doctrine running through them. This is well brought out by +some of the more famous of the phrases of this remarkable collection. +Thus a well-known passage from the <i>Airs, Waters, and Places</i> tells us +that the Scythians attribute a certain physical disability to a god, +‘but it appears to me’, says the author, ‘that these +affections are just as much divine as are all others and that no disease +is either more divine or more human than another, but that all are +equally divine, for each of them has its own nature, and none of them +arise without a natural cause.’ But, on the other hand, the author +of the great work on <i>Prognostics</i> advises us that when the physician is +called in he must seek to ascertain the nature of the affections that he +is treating, and especially ‘if there be anything divine in the +disease, and to learn a foreknowledge of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> +this also.’<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a> +We may note too that this sentence almost immediately precedes what is +perhaps the most famous of all the Hippocratic sentences, the +description of what has since been termed the <i>Hippocratic facies</i>. This +wonderful description of the signs of death may be given as an +illustration of the habitual attitude of the Hippocratic school towards +prognosis and of the very careful way in which they noted details:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘He [the physician] should observe thus in acute diseases: +first, the countenance of the patient, if it be like to those who +are in health, <i>and especially if it be like itself, for this would +be the best</i>; but the more unlike to this, the worse it is; such +would be these: <i>sharp nose, hollow eyes, collapsed temples; ears +cold, contracted, and their lobes turned out; skin about the +forehead rough, distended, and parched; the colour of the whole +face greenish or dusky</i>. If the countenance be so at the beginning +of the disease, and if this cannot be accounted for from the other +symptoms, inquiry must be made whether he has passed a sleepless +night; whether his bowels have been very loose; or whether he is +suffering from hunger; and if any of these be admitted the danger +may be reckoned as less; and it may be judged in the course of a +day and night if the appearance of the countenance proceed from +these. But if none of these be said to exist, and the symptoms do +not subside in that time, be it known for certain that death is at +hand.’<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Again, in the work <i>On the Art</i> [<i>of Medicine</i>] we read: ‘I hold +it to be physicianly to abstain from treating those who are overwhelmed +by disease’,<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> +a prudent if inhumane procedure among a people who might regard the +doctor’s powers as partaking of the nature of magic, and perhaps a +wise course to follow at this day in some places not very far from Cos. +Yet in the book <i>On Diseases</i> we are advised even in the presence of an +incurable disease ‘to give relief with such treatment as is +possible’.<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a></p> + +<p>Furthermore, works by authors of the Hippocratic school +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +stand sometimes in a position of direct controversy with each other. +Thus in the treatise <i>On the Heart</i> an experiment is set forth which is +held to prove that a part at least of imbibed fluid passes into the +cavity of the lung and thence to the parts of the body, a popular error +in antiquity which recurs in Plato’s <i>Timaeus</i>. This view, +however, is specifically held to be fallacious by the author of the work +<i>On Diseases</i>, who is supported by a polemical section in the surviving +Menon fragment.</p> + +<p>Passages like these have convinced all students that we have to deal in +this collection with a variety of works written at different dates by +different authors and under different conditions, a state that may be +well understood when we reflect that among the Greeks medicine was a +progressive study for a far longer period of time than has yet been the +case in the Western world. An account of such a collection can therefore +only be given in the most general fashion. The system or systems of +medicine that we shall thus attempt to describe was in vogue up to the +Alexandrian period, that is, to the beginning of the third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></p> + +<p>Anatomy and physiology, the basis of our modern system, was still a very +weak point in the knowledge of the pre-Alexandrians. The surface form of +the body was intimately studied in connexion especially with fractures, +but there is no evidence in the literature of the period of any closer +acquaintance with human anatomical structure.<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> +The same fact is well borne out by Greek Art, for in its noblest period +the artist betrays no evidence of assistance derived from anatomization. +Such evidence is not found until we come to sculpture of Alexandrian +date, when the somewhat strained attitudes and exaggerated musculature +of certain works of the school of Pergamon suggest that the artist +derived hints, if not direct information, from anatomists who, we know, +were active at that time. It is not improbable, however, that separate +bones, if not complete skeletons, were commonly studied earlier, for +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +surgical works of the Hippocratic collection, and especially those on +fractures and dislocations, give evidence of a knowledge of the +relations of bones to each other and of their natural position in the +body which could not be obtained, or only obtained with greatest +difficulty, without this aid.</p> + +<p>There are in the Hippocratic works a certain number of comparisons +between human and animal structures that would have been made possible +by surgical operations and occasional accidents. The view has been put +forward that some anatomical knowledge was derived through the practice +of augury from the entrails of sacrificial animals. It appears, however, +improbable that a system so scientific and so little related to temple +practice would have had much to learn from these sources, and, moreover, +since we know that animals were actually dissected as early as the time +of Alcmaeon it would be unnecessary to invoke the aid of the priests. +The unknown author of the <span class='t' title='peri topôn tôn kata anthrôpon'>περι τοπων των κατα ανθρωπον</span>, +<i>On the sites of</i> [<i>diseases</i>] <i>in man</i>, a work written about 400 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, declares indeed that ‘physical +structure is the basis of medicine’, but the formal treatises on +anatomy that we possess from Hippocratic times give the general +anatomical standard of the corpus, and it is a very disappointing one. +The tract <i>On Anatomy</i>, though probably of much later date +(perhaps <i>c.</i> 330 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), is inferior +even to the treatise <i>On the Heart</i> (perhaps of about 400 <span +class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>).</p> + +<p>Physiology and Pathology are almost as much in the background as anatomy +in the Hippocratic collection. As a formal discipline and part of +medical education we find no trace of these studies among the +pre-Alexandrian physicians. But the meagreness of the number of +ascertained facts did not prevent much speculation among a people eager +to seek the causes of things. Of that speculation we learn much from the +fragments of contemporary medical writers and philosophers, from the +medical works of the Alexandrian period, and to some extent from the +Hippocratic writings themselves. But the wiser and more sober among the +writers of the Hippocratic corpus were bent on something other than the +causes of things. Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +pre-occupation was primarily with the suffering patient, and the best +of them therefore excluded—and we may assume consciously—all +but the rarest references to such speculation.</p> + +<p>The general state of health of the body was considered by the +Hippocratists to depend on the distribution of the four elements, earth, +air, fire, and water, whose mixture (<i>crasis</i>) and cardinal properties, +dryness, warmth, coldness, and moistness, form the body and its +constituents. To these correspond the cardinal fluids, blood, phlegm, +yellow bile and <ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note: The original showed 'back'.">black</ins> +bile. The fundamental condition of life is the <i>innate heat</i>, the +abdication of which is death. This innate heat is greatest in youth when +most fuel is therefore required, but gradually declines with age. +Another necessity for the support of life is the <i>pneuma</i> which +circulates in the vessels. All this may seem fanciful enough, but we may +remember that the first half of the nineteenth century had waned before +the doctrine of the humours which had then lasted for at least +twenty-two centuries became obsolete, and perhaps it still survives in +certain modern scientific developments. Moreover, the finest and most +characteristic of the Hippocratic works either do not mention or but +casually refer to these theories which are not essential to their main +pre-occupation. Their task of observation of symptoms, of the separation +of the essentials from the accidents of disease, and of generalization +from experience could go on unaffected by any view of the nature of man +and of the world. Even treatment, which must almost of necessity be +based on <i>some</i> theory of causation, was little deflected by a view of +elements and humours on which it was impossible to act directly, while +therapeutics was further safeguarded from such influence by the doctrine +of <i>Nature as the healer of diseases</i>, <span class='t' title='nousôn +physeis iêtroi'>νουσων φυσεις ιητροι</span>, the <i>vis medicatrix naturae</i> of +the later Latin writers and of the present day.</p> + +<p>Diseases are to be cured, in the Hippocratic view, by restoring the +disturbed harmony in the relation of the elements and humours. These, in +fact, tend naturally to an equilibrium and in most cases if left to +themselves will be brought to this state<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +by the natural tendency to recovery. The process is known as <i>pepsis</i> +or, to give it the Latin form, <i>coctio</i>, and the turning-point at which +the effects of this process exhibit themselves is the <i>crisis</i>, a term +which, together with some of its original content, has still a place in +medicine. Such a turning-point does in fact occur in many diseases, +especially those of a zymotic character, on certain special days, though +undue emphasis was laid by the Greek physicians upon the exact numerical +character of the event. It was no unimportant duty of the physician to +assist nature by bringing his remedies to bear at the critical times. If +the crisis is wanting, or if the remedies are applied at the wrong +moment, the disease may become incurable. But diseases were only +immediately or proximately caused by disturbances in the balance or +harmony of the humours. This was a mere hypothesis, as the Hippocratists +themselves well knew. There were other more remote causes which came +into the actual purview of the physician, conditions which he could and +did study. Such conditions were, for instance, injudicious modes of +life, exposure to climatic changes, advancing age, and the like. Many of +these could be directly corrected. But for those that could not there +were various therapeutic measures at hand.</p> + +<p>That human bodies are and normally remain in a state of health, and that +on the whole they tend to recover from disease, is an attitude so +familiar to us to-day that we scarcely need to be reminded of it. We +live some twenty-three centuries later than Hippocrates; for some +sixteen of those centuries the civilized world thought that to retain +health periodical bleedings and potions were necessary; for the last +century or two we have been gradually returning on the Hippocratic +position!</p> + +<p>The chief glory of the Hippocratic collection regarded from the clinical +point of view is perhaps the actual description of cases. A number of +these—forty-two in all—have +survived.<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a> +They are not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +only unique as a collection for nearly 2,000 years, but they are still +to this day models of what succinct clinical records should be, clear +and short, without a superfluous word, yet with all that is most +essential, and exhibiting merely a desire to record the most important +facts without the least attempt to prejudge the case. They illustrate to +the full the Greek genius for seizing on the essential. The writer shows +not the least wish to exalt his own skill. He seeks merely to put the +data before the reader for his guidance under like circumstances. It is +a reflex of the spirit of full honesty in which these men lived and +worked that the great majority of the cases are recorded to have died. +Two of this remarkable little collection may be given:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘The woman with quinsy, who lodged with Aristion: her +complaint began in the tongue; voice inarticulate; tongue red and +parched. <i>First day</i>, shivered, then became heated. <i>Third day</i>, +rigor, acute fever; reddish and hard swelling on both sides of neck +and chest; extremities cold and livid; respiration elevated; drink +returned by the nose; she could not swallow; alvine and urinary +discharges suppressed. <i>Fourth day</i>, all symptoms exacerbated. +<i>Fifth day</i>, she died.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>We probably have here to do with a case of diphtheria. The quinsy, the +paralysis of the palate leading to return of the food through the nose, +and the difficulty with speech and swallowing are typical results of +this affection which was here complicated by a spread of the septic +processes into the neck and chest, a not uncommon sequela of the +disease. The rapid onset of the conditions is rather unusual, but may be +explained if we regard the case as a mild and unnoticed diphtheria, +subsequently complicated by paralysis and by secondary septic infection, +for which reasons she came under observation.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘In Thasos, the wife of Delearces who lodged on the plain, +through sorrow was seized with an acute and shivering fever. From +first to last she always wrapped herself up in her bedclothes; kept +silent, fumbled, picked, bored and gathered hairs [from the +clothes]; tears, and again laughter; no sleep; bowels +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +irritable, but passed nothing; when urged drank a little; urine thin +and scanty; to the touch the fever was slight; coldness of the +extremities. <i>Ninth day</i>, talked much incoherently, and again sank into +silence. <i>Fourteenth day</i>, breathing rare, large, and spaced, and again +hurried. <i>Seventeenth day</i>, after stimulation of the bowels she passed +even drinks, nor could retain anything; totally insensible; skin parched +and tense. <i>Twentieth day</i>, much talk, and again became composed, then +voiceless; respiration hurried. <i>Twenty-first day</i>, died. Her +respiration throughout was rare and large; she was totally insensible; +always wrapped up in her bedclothes; throughout either much talk, or +complete silence.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>This second case is in part a description of low muttering delirium, a +common end of continued fevers such as, for instance, typhoid. The +description closely resembles the condition known now in medicine as the +‘typhoid state’. Incidentally the case contains a reference +to a type of breathing common among the dying. The respiration becomes +deep and slow, as it sinks gradually into quietude and becomes rarer and +rarer until it seems to cease altogether, and then it gradually becomes +more rapid and so on alternately. This type of breathing is known to +physicians as ‘Cheyne-Stokes’ respiration in commemoration +of two distinguished Irish physicians of the last century who brought it +to the attention of medical men.<a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a> +Recently it has been partially explained on a physiological basis. We +may note that there is another and even better pen-picture of +Cheyne-Stokes respiration in the Hippocratic collection. It is in the +famous case of ‘Philescos who lived by the wall and who took to +his bed on the first day of acute fever’. About the middle of the +sixth day he died and the physician notes that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +‘the respiration throughout was <i>like that of a person +recollecting himself</i> and was large and rare’. Cheyne-Stokes +breathing is admirably described as ‘that of a person recollecting +himself’.</p> + +<p>Such records as these may be contrasted with certain others that have +come down from Greek antiquity. We may instance two steles discovered at +Epidaurus in 1885, bearing accounts of forty-four temple cures. The +following two are fair samples of the cures there described:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘<i>Aristagora of Troizen.</i> She had tape-worm, and while she +slept in the Temple of Asclepius at Troizen, she saw a vision. She +thought that, as the god was not present, but was away in +Epidaurus, his sons cut off her head, but were unable to put it +back again. Then they sent a messenger to Asclepius asking him to +come to Troizen. Meanwhile day came, and the priest actually saw +her head cut off from the body. The next night Aristagora had a +dream. She thought the god came from Epidaurus and fastened her +head on to her neck. Then he cut open her belly, and stitched it up +again. So she was cured.’</p> + +<p>‘A man had an abdominal abscess. He saw a vision, and thought +that the god ordered the slaves who accompanied him to lift him up +and hold him, so that his abdomen could be cut open. The man tried +to get away, but his slaves caught him and bound him. So Asclepius +cut him open, rid him of the abscess, and then stitched him up +again, releasing him from his bonds. Straightway he departed cured, +and the floor of the Abaton was covered with blood.’<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a></p></blockquote> + +<p>In the records of almost all temple cures, a great number of which have +survived in a wide variety of documents, an essential element is the +process of <span class='t' title='enkoimêsis'>εγκοιμησις</span>, <i>incubation</i> +or temple sleep, usually in a special sleeping-place or Abaton. The +process has a close parallel in certain modern Greek churches and in +places of worship much further West; there are even traces of it in +these islands, and it is more than probable that the Christian +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +practice is descended by direct continuity from the pagan.<a +name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a> +The whole character of the temple treatment was—and is—of a +kind to suggest to the patient that he should dream of the god, an event +which therefore usually takes place. Such treatment by suggestion is +applicable only to certain classes of disease and is always liable to +fall into the hands of fanatics and impostors. The difficulty that the +honest practitioner encounters is that the sufferer, in the nature of +the case, can hardly be brought to believe that his ailment is what in +fact it is, a lesion of the mind. It is this which gives the +miracle-monger his chance.</p> + +<p>Examine for a moment the two cases from Epidaurus, which are quite +typical of the series. We observe that the first is described simply as +a case of ‘tape-worm’ without any justification for the +diagnosis. It is not unfrequent nowadays for thin and anxious patients +to state, similarly without justification, that they suffer from this +condition. They attribute certain common gastric experiences to this +cause of which perhaps they have learned from sensational +advertisements, and then they ask cure for a condition which they +themselves have diagnosed, but which has no existence in fact. Such a +case is often appropriately treated by suggestion. Though the +elaborateness of the suggestion in the temple cure is a little +startling, yet it can easily be paralleled from the legends of the +Christian saints. Moreover, we must remember that we are not here +dealing with an account set down by the patient herself, but with an +edificatory inscription put up by the temple officials.</p> + +<p>In the second inscription, the man with an abdominal abscess, we have a +much simpler state of affairs. It is evident that an operation was +actually performed by the priest masquerading as Asclepius, while the +patient was held down by the slaves. He is assured that all is a dream +and departs cured with the tell-tale comment ‘and the floor of the +Abaton was covered with blood’.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +These cases might be multiplied indefinitely without great profit for +our particular theme, for in such matters there is no development, no +evolution, no history. There can be no doubt that a very large part of +Greek practice was on this level, as is a small part of modern medicine, +but it is not a level with which we are here dealing and we shall +therefore pass it by. But a word of caution must be added. Such temple +worship has been compared with modern psycho-analysis. That method, like +all methods, has doubtless been abused at times; but it is in essence, +unlike the temple system, a purely scientific process by which the +ultimate basis of the patient’s delusions are laid bare and +demonstrated to him.</p> + +<p>There is indeed another side to these Asclepian temples. They gradually +developed along the lines of our health resorts and developed many of +the qualities—lovely and unlovely—that we associate with certain +continental watering places. On the bad side they became gossiping +centres or even something little better than brothels, as we may gather +from the <i>Mimes</i> of Herondas. On the good side they formed a quiet +refuge among beautiful and interesting surroundings where the sick, +exhausted, and convalescent might gain the benefits that accrue from +pure air, fine scenery, and a regular and regulated mode of life. It is +more than probable too that the open air and manner of living benefited +many cases of incipient phthisis.</p> + +<p>Returning to the Hippocratic collection, the purely surgical treatises +will be found no less remarkable than those of clinical observation. A +very able surgeon, Francis Adams (1796-1861), who was eminent as a Greek +scholar, gave it as his opinion in the middle of the nineteenth century +that no systematic writer on surgery up to his time had given so good +and so complete an account of certain dislocations, notably of the +hip-joint, as that to be found in the Hippocratic collection. Some types +of injury to the hip, as described in the Hippocratic writings, were +certainly otherwise quite inadequately known until described by Sir +Astley Cooper (1768-1841),<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +himself a peculiarly Hippocratic character.<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a> +The verdict of Adams was probably just, though since his time the +surgery of dislocations, aided especially by X-rays, has been enabled to +pass very definitely beyond the Hippocratic position. Admirable, too, is +the Hippocratic description of dislocation of the shoulder and of the +jaw. In dislocation of hip, shoulder, or jaw, as in most similar +lesions, there is considerable deformity produced. The nature and +meaning of this deformity is described with remarkable exactness by the +Hippocratic writer, who also sets forth the resulting disability. The +principles and indeed the very details of treatment in these cases are, +save for the use of an anaesthetic, practically identical with those of +the present day. The processes are unfortunately not suitable for +detailed quotation and description here, but they are of special +interest since a graphic record of them has come down to us. There +exists in the Laurentian Library at Florence a ninth-century Greek +surgical manuscript which contains figures of surgeons reducing the +dislocations in question. There is good reason to suppose that these +miniatures are copied from figures first prepared in pre-Christian times +many centuries earlier, and we may here see the actual processes of +reduction of such fractures, as conducted by a surgeon of the direct +Hippocratic tradition<a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a> +(see Figs. 3, 4).</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><th colspan='2'>From MS. of APOLLONIUS OF KITIUM, of Ninth Century +Copied from pre-christian original</th></tr> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 380px;"> +<img src="images/illus-224-5-a.jpg" width="380" height="600" alt="Fig. 3 REDUCING DISLOCATED SHOULDER" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 3<br /> REDUCING DISLOCATED SHOULDER</span></div></td> +<td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;"> +<img src="images/illus-224-5-b.jpg" width="387" height="600" alt="Fig. 4 REDUCING DISLOCATED JAW" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 4<br /> REDUCING DISLOCATED JAW</span></div></td></tr></table></div> + +<p>In keeping with all this is most of the surgical work of the collection. +We are almost startled by the modern sound of the whole procedure as we +run through the rough note-book <span class='t' title='kat’ iêtreion'>κατ’ ιητρειον</span>, <i>Concerning the +Surgery</i>, or the more elaborate treatise <span class='t' title='peri iêtrou'>περι ιητρου</span>, <i>On the +Physician</i>, where we may read minute directions for the preparation of +the operating-room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> and on such points as the management of light both +artificial and natural, scrupulous cleanliness of the hands, the care +and use of the instruments, with the special precautions needed when +they are of iron, the decencies to be observed during the operation, the +general method of bandaging, the placing of the patient, the use and +abuse of splints, and the need for tidiness, order, and cleanliness. +Many of these directions are enlarged upon in other surgical works of +the collection, among<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> which we find especially full instructions for +bandaging and for the diagnosis and treatment of fractures and +dislocations. A very fair representation of such a surgery as these +works describe is to be found on a vase-painting of Attic origin of the +earlier part of the fifth century, and, therefore, a generation before +Hippocrates (see fig. 5). There are also several beautiful +representations on vases of the actual processes of bandaging (fig. 6).</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/illus-226.png" width="500" height="190" alt="Fig. 5. +A GREEK CLINIC OF ABOUT 480-470 B. C. From a vase-painting." title="" /> +<div class="caption"><p class='c noin'><span class="sc">Fig. 5.</span><br /> +A GREEK CLINIC OF ABOUT 480-470 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> From a vase-painting.</p> +<p>In the centre sits a physician holding a lancet and bleeding a patient +from the median vein at the bend of the right elbow into a large open +basin. Above and behind the physician are suspended three cupping +vessels. To the right sits another patient awaiting his turn; his left +arm is bandaged in the region of the biceps. The figure beyond him +smells a flower, perhaps as a preservative against infection. Behind the +physician stands a man leaning on a staff; he is wounded in the left +leg, which is bandaged. By his side stands a dwarfish figure with +disproportionately large head, whose body exhibits deformities typical +of the developmental disease now known as <i>Achondroplasia</i>; in addition +to these deformities we note that his body is hairy and the bridge of +his nose sunken; on his back he carries a hare which is almost as tall +as himself. Talking to the dwarf is a man leaning on a long staff, who +has the remains of a bandage round his chest.</p> + +<p>See E. Pottier, ‘Une Clinique grecque au Ve siècle (vase +antique du collection Peztel)’, <i>Fondation Eugène Piot, Monuments +et Mémoires</i>, xiii. 149, Paris, 1906. (Some of our interpretations +differ from those of M. Pottier.)</p></div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-227.jpg" width="550" height="549" +alt="Fig. 6. A kylix from the Berlin Museum of about 490 B. C." title="" /> +<div class="caption"><p>Fig. 6. A kylix from the Berlin Museum of +about 490 <span class="lc sc">B. C.</span> It bears the inscription +<span class='t' title='SOSIAS EPOIÊSEN'>ΣΟΣΙΑΣ ΕΠΟΙΗΣΕΝ</span>, +Sosias made (me), and represents Achilles bandaging Patroclus, the +names of the two heroes being written round the margin. The painter is +Euphronios, and the work is regarded as the masterpiece of that great +artist. The left upper arm of Patroclus is injured, and Achilles is +bandaging it with a two-rolled bandage, which he is trying to bring down +to extend over the elbow. The treatment of the hands, a department in +which Euphronios excelled, is particularly fine. Achilles was not a +trained surgeon, and it will be observed, from the position of the two +tails of the bandage, that he will have some difficulty when it comes to +its final fastening!</p></div></div> + +<p>Among the surgical procedures of which descriptions are to be found in +the Hippocratic writings are the opening of the chest for the condition +known as <i>empyema</i> (accumulation of pus within the pleura frequently +following pneumonia), and trephining the skull in cases of fracture of +that part—two fundamental operations of modern surgery. Surgical art +has advanced enormously in our own times, yet a text-book containing +much that is useful to this day might be prepared from these surgical +contents of the collection alone.</p> + +<p>When we pass to the works on Medicine, in the restricted sense, we enter +into a region more difficult and perhaps even more fascinating. We are +no longer dealing with simple lesions of known origin, but with the +effects of disease and degeneration, of the essential character of which +the Hippocratic writers could in the nature of the case know very +little. Rigidly guarding themselves from any attempt to explain disease +by more immediate and hypothetical causes and thus diverting the +reader’s energies in the medically useless direction of vague +speculation—the prevalent mental vice of the Greeks—the best of these +physicians are content if they can put forward generalized conclusions +from actually observed cases. Many of their thoughts have now become +household words, and they have become so, largely as a direct heritage +from these ancient physicians. But it must be remembered that ideas so +familiar to us were with them the result of long and carefully recorded +experience and are like nothing that we encounter in the medicine of +other ancient nations. Such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +conclusions are best set forth perhaps in the wonderful book of the +<i>Aphorisms</i> from which we may permit ourselves a few quotations:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘Life is short, and the Art long; the opportunity fleeting; +experiment dangerous, and judgement difficult. Yet we must be +prepared not only to do our duty ourselves, but also patient, +attendants, and external circumstances must co-operate.’<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a> +</p></blockquote> + +<p>In this one memorable paragraph, so condensed in the original as to be +almost untranslatable, he who ‘first separated medicine from +philosophy’ puts aside at once all speculative interest while in +the actual presence of the sick. His whole energy is concentrated on the +case in hand with that peculiar attitude, at once impersonal and +intensely personal, that has since been the mark of the physician, and +that has made of Medicine both a science and an art.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘For extreme diseases, extreme methods of cure.’<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a></p> + +<p>‘The aged endure fasting most easily; next adults; next young +persons, and least of all children, and especially such as are the +most lively.’</p> + +<p>‘Growing bodies have the most innate heat; they therefore +require the most nourishment, and if they have it not they waste. +In the aged there is little heat, and therefore they require little +fuel, for it would be extinguished by much. Similarly fevers in the +aged are not so acute, because their bodies are cold.’</p> + +<p>‘In disease sleep that is laborious is a deadly symptom; but +if sleep relieves it is not deadly.’</p> + +<p>‘Sleep that puts an end to delirium is a good +symptom.’</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +‘If a convalescent eats well, but does not put on flesh, it +is a bad symptom.’</p> + +<p>‘Food or drink which is a little less good but more palatable +is to be preferred to such that is better but less +palatable.’</p> + +<p>‘The old have generally fewer complaints than young; but +those chronic diseases which do befall them generally never leave +them.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>Here we have a group of observations, some of which have become +literally household words, nor is it difficult to understand how such +sayings have passed from professional into lay keeping. This magnificent +book of <i>Aphorisms</i> was very early translated into Latin, probably +before and certainly not later than the sixth century of the Christian +era, and thus became accessible throughout the West. Manuscripts of this +Latin version, dating from the ninth and tenth centuries of our era, +have survived in the actual places in which they were written, at Monte +Cassino in Southern Italy and at Einsiedeln in Switzerland, and in 991 +the book of <i>Aphorisms</i> was well known and closely studied at the +Cathedral school of Chartres. From France the <i>Aphorisms</i> reached +England, and they are mentioned in documents of the tenth or eleventh +century. By now, too, the book had been translated into Syriac and later +into Arabic and Hebrew, so that in the true mediaeval period it was +known both East and West, and in the vernacular as well as the classical +tongues. From the oriental dialects several further translations were +again made into Latin. An enormous number of manuscripts of the work +have survived in almost every Western dialect, and these show on the +whole that the text has been surprisingly little tampered with. In the +middle of the thirteenth century some of the better-known Aphorisms were +absorbed into a very popular Latin poem that went forth in the name of +the medical school of Salerno, though with a false ascription to a yet +earlier date. The Salernitan poem, being itself translated into every +European vernacular, further helped to bring Hippocrates into every +home.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +But by no means all the Aphorisms are of a kind that could well become +absorbed into folk medicine. It is only those concerning frequently +recurring states to which this fate could befall. The book contains also +a number of notes on rare conditions seldom seen or noted save by +medical men. Such are the following very acute observations:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘Spasm supervening on a wound is fatal.’</p> + +<p>‘Those seized with tetanus die within four days, or if they +survive so long they recover.’</p> + +<p>‘A convulsion, or hiccup, supervening on a copious discharge +of blood is bad.’</p> + +<p>‘If after severe and grave wounds no swelling appears, it is +very serious.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>These four sentences all concern wounds. The first two refer to the +disease <i>tetanus</i>, which is very liable to supervene on wounds fouled +with earth, especially in hot and moist localities. The disease is +characterized by a series of painful muscular contractions which in the +more severe and fatal form may become a continuous spasm, a type that is +referred to in the first sentence. It is true of tetanus that the later +the onset after the wound is sustained the better the chance of +recovery. This is brought out by the second sentence. The third and +fourth sentences record untoward symptoms following a severe wound, now +well recognized and watched for by every surgeon. There were, of course, +innumerable illustrations of the truth of these Aphorisms in extensive +wounds, especially those involving crushed limbs, in the late war.</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘Phthisis occurs most commonly between the ages of eighteen +and thirty-five.’</p> + +<p>‘Diarrhœa supervening on phthisis is mortal.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>The period given by the <i>Aphorisms</i> for the maximum frequency of onset +of the disease is closely borne out by modern observations. The second +Aphorism is equally valid; continued diarrhœa is a very frequent +antecedent of the fatal event in chronic phthisis, and post-mortem +examination has shown that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +secondary involvement of the bowel is an exceedingly common condition +in this disease.</p> + +<p>No less remarkable is the following saying: ‘In jaundice it is a +grave matter if the liver becomes indurated.’ Jaundice is a common +and comparatively trivial symptom following or accompanying a large +variety of diseases. In and by itself it is of little importance and +almost always disappears spontaneously. There is a small group of +pathological conditions, however, in which this is not the case. The +commonest and most important of these are the fatal affections of +cirrhosis and cancer of the liver in which that organ may be felt to be +enlarged and hardened. If therefore the liver can be so felt in a case +of jaundice, it is, as the Aphorism says, of gravest import. +Representations of such cases have actually come down to us from Greek +times. Thus on a monument erected at Athens to the memory of a physician +who died in the second century of the Christian era we may see the +process of clinical examination (fig. 7). The physician is palpating the +liver of a dwarfish figure whose swollen belly, wasted limbs, and +anxious look tell of some such condition as that described in the +Aphorism. The ridge caused by the enlarged liver can even be detected on +the statue.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/illus-234-5.jpg" width="400" height="560" +alt="Fig. 7. ATHENIAN FUNERARY MONUMENT" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 7. ATHENIAN FUNERARY MONUMENT<br /> +Second century A. D. British Museum<br /> +Inscription reads: ‘Jason, also called Dekmos, the Acharnian, a +physician’, followed by his genealogy. By side of patient stands a +cupping vessel.</span></div> + +<p>‘We must attend to the appearances of the eyes in sleep as +presented from below; for if a portion of the white be seen between the +closing eyelids, and if this be not connected with diarrhœa or severe +purging, it is a very bad and mortal symptom.’ In this, the last +Aphorism which we shall quote, we see the Hippocratic physician actually +making his observations. Now during sleep the eyeball is turned upward, +so that if the eye be then opened and examined only the white is seen. +In the later stages of all wasting and chronic diseases the eyelids tend +not to be closed during sleep. Such patients, as is well known, often +die with the eyes open and sometimes exhibiting only the whites.</p> + +<p>But the Hippocratic physician was not content to make only +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +passive observation; he also took active measures to elicit the +‘physical signs’. In modern times a large, perhaps the +chief, task of the student of medicine is to acquire a knowledge of +these so-called physical signs of disease, the tradition of which has +been gradually rebuilt during the last three centuries. Among the most +important measures in which he learns to acquire facility is that of +auscultation. This useful process has come specially into vogue since +the invention of the stethoscope in 1819 by Laennec, who derived +valuable hints for it from the Hippocratic writings. Auscultation is +several times mentioned and described by the Hippocratic physicians, who +used the direct method of listening and not the mediate method devised +by Laennec. There are, however, certain cases in which the modern +physician still finds the older non-instrumental Hippocratic method +superior. In the Hippocratic work <span class='t' title='peri nousôn'>περι νουσων</span>, +<i>On diseases</i>, we read of a case with fluid in the pleura that +‘you will place the patient on a seat which does not move, an +assistant will hold him by the shoulders, and you will shake him, +applying the ear to the chest, so as to recognize on which side the sign +occurs’. This sign is still used by physicians and is known as +<i>Hippocratic succussion</i>. In another passage in the same work the +symptoms of pleurisy are described and ‘a creak like that of +leather may be heard’. This is the well known <i>pleuritic rub</i> +which the physician is accustomed to seek in such cases, and of which +the creak of leather is an excellent representation.</p> + +<p>Such quotations give an insight into the general method and attitude of +the Hippocratics. Of an art such as medicine, which even in those times +had a long and rational tradition behind it, it is impossible to give +more than the merest glimpse in such a review as this. The actual +practice is far too complex to set down briefly. This is especially the +case with the ancient teaching as regards epidemic disease at which we +must cursorily glance. The Hippocratic physicians and indeed all +antiquity were as yet ignorant of the nature, and were but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +dimly aware of the existence, of infection.<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> +For them acute disease was something imposed on the patient from +outside, but how it reached him from outside and what it was that thus +reached him they were still admittedly ignorant. In this dilemma they +turned to prolonged observation and noted as a result of repeated +experience that epidemic diseases in their world had characteristic +seasonal and regional distributions. One country was not quite like +another, nor was one season like another nor even one year like another. +By a series of carefully collated observations as to how regions, +seasons, and years differed from each other, they succeeded in laying +the basis of a rational study of epidemiology which gave rise to the +notion of an ‘epidemic constitution’ of the different years, +a conception which was very fertile and stimulating to the great +clinicians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and is by no +means without value even for the modern epidemiologist. The work of the +modern fathers of epidemiology was consciously based on Hippocrates.</p> + +<p>Before parting with the Hippocratic physician a word must be said as to +his therapeutic means. His general armoury may be described as +resembling that of the modern physician of about two generations ago. +During those two generations we have, it is true, added to our list of +effective remedies but, on the other hand, there has been by common +consent a return to the Hippocratic simplicity of treatment. After rest +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +quiet the central factor in treatment was Dietetics. This science +regarded the age—‘Old persons use less nutriment than +young’; the season—‘In winter abundant nourishment is +wholesome, in summer a more frugal diet’; the bodily +condition—‘Lean persons should take little food, but this little +should be fat, fat persons on the other hand should take much food, but +it should be lean’. Respect was also paid to the digestibility of +different foods—‘white meat is more easily digestible than +dark’—and to their preparation. Water, barley water, and lime +water were recommended as drinks. The dietetic principles of the +Hippocratics, especially in connexion with fevers, are substantially +those of the present day, and it may be said that the general medical +tendency of the last generation in these matters has been an even closer +approximation to the Hippocratic. ‘The more we nourish unhealthy +bodies the more we injure them’; ‘The sick upon whom fever +seizes with the greatest severity from the very outset, must at once +subject themselves to a rigid diet’; ‘Complete abstinence +often acts well, if the strength of the patient can in any way sustain +it’; yet ‘We should examine the strength of the sick, to see +whether they be in condition to maintain this spare diet to the crisis +of the disease’. ‘In the application of these rules we must +always be mindful of the strength of the patient and of the course of +each particular disease, as well as of the constitution and ordinary +mode of life in each disease.’</p> + +<p>Besides diet the Hippocratic physician had at his disposal a +considerable variety of other remedies. Baths, inunctions, clysters, +warm and cold suffusions, massage and gymnastic, as well as gentler +exercise are among them. He probably employed cupping and bleeding +rather too freely, and we have several representations of the +instruments used for these operations (fig. 8). He was no great user of +drugs and seldom names them except, we may note, in the works on the +treatment of women, which are probably of Cnidian origin and whence +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> the +greater part of the 300 constituents of the Hippocratic pharmacopœia are +derived. Thus his list of drugs is small but several known to him are +still used by us.</p> + +<p>The work of these men may be summed up by saying that without +dissection, without any experimental physiology or pathology, and +without any instrumental aid they pushed the knowledge of the course and +origin of disease as far as it is conceivable that men in such +circumstances could push it. This was done as a process of pure +scientific induction. Their surgery, though hardly based on anatomy, was +grounded on the most carefully recorded experience. In therapeutics they +allowed themselves neither to be deceived by false hopes nor led aside +by vain traditions. Yet in diagnosis, prognosis, surgery and +therapeutics alike they were in many departments unsurpassed until the +nineteenth century, and to some of their methods we have reverted in the +twentieth. Persisting throughout the ages as a more or less definite +tradition, which attained clearer form during and after the sixteenth +century, Hippocratic methods have formed the basis of all departments of +modern advance.</p> + +<p>But the history of Greek medicine did not end with the Hippocratic +collection; in many respects it may indeed be held only to begin there; +yet we never get again a glimpse of so high an ethical and professional +standard as that which these works convey. From Alexandrian times +onwards, too, the history of Greek medicine becomes largely a history of +various schools of medical thought, each of which has only a partial +view of the course and nature of medical knowledge. The unravelling of +the course and teachings of these sects has long been a pre-occupation +of professed medical historians, but the general reader can hardly take +an interest in differences between the Dogmatists, Empirics, and +Methodists whose doctrines are as dead as themselves. In this later +Alexandrian and Hellenistic age the Greek intellect is no less active +than before, but there is a change in the taste of the material. A +general decay of the spirit is reflected in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +medical as in the literary products of the time, and we never again +feel that elevation of a beautiful and calmly righteous presence that +breathes through the Hippocratic collection and gives it a peculiar +aroma.</p> + +<p>We shall pass over the general course of later Greek medicine with great +rapidity. A definite medical school was established at Alexandria and +others perhaps at Pergamon and elsewhere. Athens, after the death of +Aristotle and his pupils, passes entirely into the background and is of +no importance so far as medicine is concerned. At Alexandria, where a +great medical library was collected, anatomy began to be studied and two +men whose discoveries were of primary importance for the history of that +subject, Erasistratus and Herophilus, early practised there. With +anatomy as a basis medical education could become much more systematic. +It is a very great misfortune that the works of these two eminent men +have disappeared. Of Herophilus fragments have survived embedded in the +works of Galen (<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 130-201), Caelius Aurelianus +(fifth century), and others. These fragments have been the subject of +one of the earliest, most laborious, and most successful attempts made +in modern times to reconstruct the lost work of an ancient +author.<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> +For Erasistratus our chief source of information are two polemical +treatises directed against him by Galen. Recently, too, a little more +information concerning the works of both men has become available from +the Menon papyrus.</p> + +<p>It has been found possible to reconstruct especially a treatise on +anatomy by Herophilus with a considerable show of probability. He opened +by giving general directions for the process of dissection and followed +with detailed descriptions of the various systems, nervous, vascular, +glandular, digestive, generative, and osseous. There was a separate +section on the liver, a small part of which has survived. It is of his +account of the nervous system that we have perhaps the best record, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +and it is evident that he has advanced far beyond the Hippocratic +position. In the braincase he saw the membranes that cover the brain and +distinguished between the cerebrum and cerebellum. He attained to some +knowledge of the ventricles of the brain, the cranial and spinal nerves, +the nerves of the heart, and the coats of the eye. He distinguished the +blood sinuses of the skull, and the <i>torcular Herophili</i> (winepress of +Herophilus), a sinus described by him, has preserved his name in modern +anatomical nomenclature. He even made out more minute structures, such +as the little depression in the fourth ventricle of the brain, known to +modern anatomists as the <i>calamus scriptorius</i>, which still bears the +name which he gave it (<span class='t' title='kalamos hô graphomen'>καλαμος ὡ γραφομεν</span>), +because it seemed to him, as Galen tells us, to resemble the pens then +in use in Alexandria.<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> +We still use, too, his term <i>duodenum</i> (<span class='t' +title='dôdekadaktylos ekphysis'>δωδεκαδακτυλος εκφυσις</span> = twelve-finger +extension), for as Galen assures us, Herophilus ‘so named the +first part of the intestine before it is rolled into folds’.<a +name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a> The duodenum is a +U-shaped section of the intestine following immediately on the stomach. +Being fixed down behind the abdominal cavity it cannot be further +convoluted, and this accounts for Galen’s description of it. It is +about twelve fingers’ breadth long in the animals dissected by +Herophilus.</p> + +<p>Erasistratus, the slightly younger Alexandrian contemporary of +Herophilus, has the credit of further anatomical discoveries. He +described correctly the action of the epiglottis in preventing the +entrance of food and drink into the windpipe during the act of +swallowing, he saw the lacteal vessels in the mesentery, and pursued +further the anatomy of the brain. He improved on the anatomy of the +heart, and described the auriculo-ventricular valves and their mode of +closure. He distinguished clearly the motor and sensory nerves. He seems +to have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +adopted a definitely experimental attitude—a very rare thing +among ancient physicians—and a description of an experiment made by him +has recently been recovered. ‘If’, he says, ‘you take +an animal, a bird, for example, and keep it for a time in a jar without +giving it food and then weigh it together with its excreta you will find +that there is a considerable loss of weight.’<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a> +The experiment is a simple one, but it was about nineteen hundred years +before a modern professor, Sanctorio Santorio (1561-1636), thought of +repeating it.<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a></p> + +<p>The anatomical advances made by the Alexandrian school naturally reacted +on surgical efficiency. The improvement so effected may be gathered, for +instance, from an account of the anatomical relationships in certain +cases of dislocation of the hip given by the Alexandrian surgeon +Hegetor, who lived about 100 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> In his book +<span class='t' title='peri aitiôn'>περι αιτιων</span>, <i>On +causes</i> [<i>of disease</i>], he asks ‘why (certain surgeons) do not +seek another way of reducing a luxation of the hip.... If the joints of +the jaw, shoulder, elbow, knee, finger, &c., can be replaced, the same, +they think, must be true of all parts, nor can they give an account of +why the femur cannot be put back into its place.... They might have +known, however, that from the head of the femur arises a ligament which +is inserted into the socket of the hip bone ... and if this ligament is +once ruptured the thigh bone cannot be retained in +place’.<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> +This passage contains the first description of the structure known to +modern anatomists as the <i>ligamentum teres</i>, a strong fibrous band which +unites the head of the femur with the socket into which it fits in the +hip bone, like the string that binds the cup and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +ball of a child’s toy. This ligament is ruptured in certain +severe cases of dislocation of the hip.</p> + +<p>After the establishment of the school at Alexandria, medical teaching +rapidly became organized, but throughout the whole course of antiquity +it suffered from the absence of anything in the nature of a state +diploma. Any one could practise, with the result that many quacks, +cranks, and fanatics were to be found among the ranks of the +practitioners who often were or had been slaves. The great Alexandrian +school, however, did much to preserve some sort of professional +standard, and above all its anatomical discipline helped to this end.</p> + +<p>Between the founding of the Alexandrian school and Galen we are not rich +in medical writings. Apart from fragments and minor productions, the +works of only five authors have survived from this period of over four +hundred years, namely, Celsus, Dioscorides, Aretaeus of Cappadocia, and +two Ephesian authors bearing the names of Rufus and Soranus.</p> + +<p>The work of Celsus of the end of the first century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +is a Latin treatise, probably translated from Greek, and is the +surviving medical volume of a complete cyclopaedia of knowledge. In +spite of its unpromising origin it is an excellent compendium of its +subject and shows a good deal of advance in many respects beyond the +Hippocratic position. The moral tone too is very high, though without +the lofty and detached beauty of Hippocrates. Anatomy has greatly +improved, and with it surgical procedure, and the work is probably +representative of the best Alexandrian practice. The pharmacopœia is +more copious, but has not yet become burdensome. The general line of +treatment is sensible and humane and the language concise and clear. +Among other items he describes dental practice, with the indications for +and methods of tooth extraction, the wiring of teeth, and perhaps a +dental mirror. There is an excellent account of what might be thought to +be the modern operation for removal of the tonsils. Celsus is still +commemorated in modern medicine by the <i>area Celsi</i>, a not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +uncommon disease of the skin. The <i>De re medica</i> is in fact one of +the very best medical text-books that have come down to us from +antiquity. It has had a romantic history. Forgotten during the Middle +Ages, it was brought to light by the classical scholar Guarino of Verona +(1374-1460) in 1426, and a better copy was discovered by his friend +Lamola in 1427. Another copy was found by Thomas Parentucelli +(1397-1455), afterwards Pope Nicholas V in 1443, and the text was later +studied by Politian (1454-94). Though one of the latest of the great +classical medical texts to be discovered, it was one of the first to be +printed (Florence, 1478), and it ran through very many early editions +and had great influence on the medical renaissance.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus-240-1.jpg" width="600" height="458" alt="Fig. 8." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 8. VOTIVE TABLET representing +cupping and bleeding instruments from Temple of Asclepius at Athens. In +centre is represented a folding case containing scalpels of various +forms. On either side are cupping vessels.</span></div> + +<p>After Celsus comes Dioscorides in the first century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> He was a Greek +military surgeon of Cilician origin who served under Nero, and in him +the Greek intellect is obviously beginning to flag. His work is +prodigiously important for the history of botany, yet so far as rational +medicine is concerned he is almost negligible. He begins at the wrong +end, either giving lists of drugs with the symptoms that they are said +to cure or to relieve, or lists of symptoms with a series of named +drugs. Clinical observation and record are wholly absent, and the spirit +of Hippocrates has departed from this elaborate pharmacopœia.</p> + +<p>With the second century of the Christian era we terminate the creative +period of Greek medicine. We are provided with the works of four +important writers of this century, of whom three, Rufus of Ephesus, +Soranus of Ephesus, and Aretaeus of Cappadocia, though valuable for +forming a picture of the state of medicine in their day, were without +substantial influence on the course of medicine in later ages.</p> + +<p>Rufus of Ephesus, a little junior to Dioscorides, has left us the first +formal work on human anatomy and is of some importance in the history of +comparative anatomy. In medicine he is memorable as the first to have +described bubonic plague, and in surgery for his description of the +methods of arresting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +haemorrhage and his knowledge of the anatomy of the eye. A work by him +<i>On gout</i> was translated into Latin in the sixth century, but remained +unknown till modern times.</p> + +<p>Soranus of Ephesus (<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> <i>c.</i> 90-<i>c.</i> 150), +an acute writer on gynaecology, has left a book which illustrates well +the anatomy of his day. It exercised an influence for many centuries to +come, and a Latin abstract of it prepared about the sixth century by one +Moschion has come down to us in an almost contemporary manuscript.<a +name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> +It is interesting as opposing the Hippocratic theory that the male +embryo is originated in the right and the female in the left half of the +womb, a fallacy derived originally from Empedocles and Parmenides, but +perpetuated by Latin translations of the Hippocratic treatises until the +seventeenth century. His work was adorned by figures, and some of these, +naturally greatly altered by copyists, but still not infinitely removed +from the facts, have survived in a manuscript of the ninth century, and +give us a distant idea of the appearance of ancient anatomical +drawings.<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> +We may assist our imagination a little further, in forming an idea of +what such diagrams were like, with the help of certain other mediaeval +figures representing the form and distribution of the various anatomical +‘systems’, veins, arteries, nerves, bones, and muscles which +are probably traceable to an Alexandrian origin.<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a +href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a></p> + +<p>Aretaeus of Cappadocia was probably a contemporary of Galen (second half +of the second century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>). As a clinical author +his reputation stands high, perhaps too high, his descriptions of +pneumonia, empyema, diabetes, and elephantiasis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +having especially drawn attention. In treatment he uses simple +remedies, is not affected by polypharmacy, and suggests many ingenious +mechanical devices. It would appear that Aretaeus is not an independent +writer, but mainly a compiler. He relies largely on Archigenes, a +distinguished physician contemporary with Juvenal, whose works have +perished save the fragments preserved in this manner by Aretaeus and +Aetius. Aretaeus was a very popular writer among the Greeks in all ages, +but he was not translated into Latin, and was unknown in the West until +the middle of the sixteenth century.<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a> +He is philologically interesting as still using the Ionic dialect.</p> + +<p>There remains the huge overshadowing figure of Galen. The enormous mass +of the surviving work of this man, the dictator of medicine until the +revival of learning and beyond, tends to throw out of perspective the +whole of Greek medical records. The works of Galen alone form about half +of the mass of surviving Greek medical writings, and occupy, in the +standard edition, twenty-two thick, closely-printed volumes. These cover +every department of medicine, anatomy, physiology, pathology, medical +theory, therapeutics, as well as clinical medicine and surgery. In style +they are verbose and heavy and very frequently polemical. They are +saturated with a teleology which, at times, becomes excessively tedious. +In the anatomical works, masses of teleological explanation dilute the +account of often imperfectly described structures. Yet to this element +we owe the preservation of the mass of Galen’s works, for his +intensely teleological point of view appealed to the theological bias +both of Western Christianity and of Eastern Islam. Intolerable as +literature, his works are a valuable treasure house of medical knowledge +and experience, custom, tradition, and history.</p> + +<p>As in the case of the Hippocratic corpus, so in the case of the Galenic +corpus we are dealing to some extent with material +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +from various sources. In the case of Galen, however, we have a good +standard of genuineness, for he has left us a list of his books which +can be checked off against those which we actually possess. The general +standpoint of the Galenic is not unlike that of the Hippocratic +writings, but the noble vision of the lofty-minded, pure-souled +physician has utterly passed away. In his place we have an acute, +honest, very contentious fellow, bristling with energy and of prodigious +industry, not unkindly, but loving strife, a thoroughly +‘aggressive’ character. He loves truth, but he loves +argument quite as much. The value of his philosophical writings, of +which some have survived, cannot be discussed here, but it is evident +that he is frequently satisfied with purely verbal explanations. An +ingenious physiologist, a born experimenter, an excellent anatomist and +eager to improve, possessing a good knowledge of the human skeleton and +an accurate acquaintance with the internal parts so far as this can be +derived from a most industrious devotion to dissection of animals, +equipped with all the learning of the schools of Pergamon, Smyrna, and +Alexandria, and rich with the experience of a vast practice at Rome, +Galen is essentially an ‘efficient’ man. He has the grace to +acknowledge constantly and repeatedly his indebtedness to the +Hippocratic writings. Such was the man whose remains, along with the +Hippocratic collection, formed the main medical legacy of Greece to the +Western world.</p> + +<p>Some of Galen’s works are mere drug lists, little superior to +those of Dioscorides;<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> +with the depression of the intelligence that corresponded with the break +up of the Roman Empire, it was these that were chiefly seized on and +distributed in the West. Attractive too to the debased intellect of the +late Roman world were certain spurious, superstitious, and astrological +works that circulated in the name of Galen and +Hippocrates.<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> +The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +Greek medical writers after Galen were but his imitators and +abstractors, but through some of them Galen’s works reached the +West at a very early period in the Middle Ages. Such abstractors who +were early translated into Latin were Oribasius (325-403), Paul of +Aegina (625-690), and Alexander of Tralles (525-605). Of the best and +most scientific of Galen’s works the Middle Ages knew little or +nothing.</p> + +<p>Later Galen and Hippocrates became a little more accessible, not by +translation from the Greek, but by translation from the Arabic of a +Syriac version. The first work to be so rendered was a version of +<i>Aphorisms</i> of Hippocrates which, however, as we have seen, were already +available in Latin dress, together with the Hippocratic <i>Regimen in +acute diseases</i>, and certain works of Galen as corruptly interpreted by +Isaac Judaeus. These were rendered from Arabic into Latin by +Constantine, an African adventurer who became a monk at Monte Cassino +and died there in 1087. Constantine was a wretched craftsman with an +imperfect knowledge of both Arabic and Latin. More effective was the +great twelfth-century translator from the Arabic, Gerard of Cremona +(died 1185), who turned many medical works into Latin from Arabic, and +who was followed by a whole host of imitators. Yet more important for +the advance of medicine, however, was the learned revival of the +thirteenth century. In the main that revival was based on translations +from Arabic, but a certain number of works were also rendered direct +from the Greek. During the thirteenth century Aristotle’s +scientific works began to be treated in this way, but more important for +the course of medicine were those of Galen, and they had to wait till +the following century. The long treatise of Galen, +<span class='t' title='peri chreias tôn en anthrôpou sômati moriôn'>περι χρειας των εν ανθρωπου σωματι μοριων</span>, +<i>On the uses of the bodily parts in man</i>, was translated from the Greek +into Latin by Nicholas of Reggio in the earlier part of the fourteenth +century. This work, with all its defects, was by far the best account of +the human body then available. Many manuscripts of the Latin version +have survived, and it was translated into several vernaculars, +including<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +English, and profoundly influenced surgery. The rendering into Latin of +this treatise, and its wide distribution, may be regarded as the +starting-point of modern scientific medicine. Its appearance is moreover +a part of the phenomenon of the revived interest in dissection which had +begun to be practised in the Universities in the thirteenth +century,<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a> +and was a generally accepted discipline in the fourteenth and +fifteenth.<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a></p> + +<p>Until the end of the fifteenth century progress in anatomy was almost +imperceptible. During the fifteenth century more Galenic and Hippocratic +texts were recovered and gradually turned into Latin, but still without +vitally affecting the course of Anatomy. The actual printing of +collected editions of Hippocrates and Galen came rather late, for the +debased taste of the Renaissance physicians continued to prefer +Dioscorides and the Arabs, of whom numerous editions appeared, so that +medicine made no advance corresponding to the progress of scholarship. +The Hippocratic works were first printed in 1525, and an isolated +edition of the inferior Galen in 1490, but the real advance in Medicine +was not made by direct study of these works. So long as they were +treated in the old scholastic spirit such works were of no more value +than those of the Arabists or others inherited from the Middle Ages. +Even Hippocrates can be spoilt by a commentary, and it was not until the +investigator began actually to compare his own observations with those +of Hippocrates and Galen that the real value of these works became +apparent. The department in which this happened first was Anatomy, and +such revolutionaries as Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1518), who never +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +published, and Vesalius (1514-1564), whose great work appeared in 1543, +were really basing their work on Galen, though they were much occupied +in proving Galen’s errors. Antonio Benivieni (died 1502), an eager +prophet of the new spirit, revived the Hippocratic tradition by actually +collecting notes of a few cases with accompanying records of deaths and +post-mortem findings, among which it is interesting to observe a case of +appendicitis.<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> +His example was occasionally followed during the sixteenth century, as +for instance, by the Portuguese Jewish physician Amatus Lusitanus +(1511-<i>c.</i> 1562), who printed no fewer than seven hundred cases; but the +real revival of the Hippocratic tradition came in the next century with +Sydenham (1624-1689) and Boerhaave (1668-1738), who were consciously +working on the Hippocratic basis and endeavouring to extend the +Hippocratic experience.</p> + +<p>Lastly surgery came to profit by the revival. The greatest of the +sixteenth-century surgeons, the lovable and loving Ambroise Paré +(1510-1590), though he was, as he himself humbly confessed, an ignorant +man knowing neither Latin nor Greek, can be shown to have derived much +from the works of antiquity, which were circulating in translation in +his day and were thus filtering down to the unlearned.</p> + +<p>Texts of Hippocrates and of Galen had formed an integral part in the +medical instruction of the universities from their commencement in the +thirteenth century. The first Greek text of the <i>Aphorisms</i> of +Hippocrates appeared in 1532, edited by no less a hand than that of +François Rabelais. With the further recovery of the Greek texts and +preparation of better translations, these became almost the sole mode of +instruction during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The +translators became legion and their competence varied. One highly +skilled translator, however, is of special interest to English readers. +Thomas Linacre (1460?-1524), Physician to Henry VIII, Tutor to the +Princess Mary, founder and first president of the College +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +of Physicians, a benefactor of both the ancient Universities and one of +the earliest, ablest, most typical, and most exasperating of the English +humanists, spent much energy on this work of translation for which his +abilities peculiarly fitted him. He was responsible for no less than six +important works of Galen, of which one, the <i>De temperamentis et de +inaequali intemperie</i>, printed at Cambridge in 1521, was among the +earliest books impressed in that town and is said to be the first +printed in England for which Greek types were used. It has been honoured +by reproduction in facsimile in modern times. Such works as these, +purely literary efforts, had great vogue for a century and more, and +were much in use in the Universities. These humanistic products +sometimes produced, among the advocates of the new scientific method, a +degree of fury which was only rivalled by that of some of the humanists +themselves towards the translators from the Arabic. But these are now +dead fires. As the clinical and scientific methods of teaching gained +ground, textual studies receded in medical education, as Hippocrates and +Galen themselves would have wished them to recede.</p> + +<p>The texts of Hippocrates and Galen have now ceased to occupy a place in +any medical curriculum. Yet all who know these writings, know too, not +only that their spirit is still with us, but that the works themselves +form the background of modern practice, and that their very phraseology +is still in use at the bedside. Modern medicine may be truly described +as in essence a creation of the Greeks. To realize the nature of our +medical system, some knowledge of its Greek sources is essential. It +would indeed be a bad day for medicine if ever this debt to the Greeks +were forgotten, and the loss would be at least as much ethical as +intellectual. But there is happily no fear of this, for the figure and +spirit of Hippocrates are more real and living to-day than they have +been since the great collapse of the Greek scientific intellect in the +third and fourth centuries of the Christian era.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Charles Singer.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The author has to thank Mr. R. W. Livingstone, Dr. E. T. +Withington, Prof. A. Platt, and Mr. J. D. Beazley for corrections +and suggestions.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LITERATURE" id="LITERATURE"></a>LITERATURE</h2> + +<p>A man walking down Shaftesbury Avenue from Piccadilly to Charing Cross +Road passes the <i>Lyric Theatre</i>. If it is the evening, a <i>dramatic</i> +performance is probably taking place inside. It may be a <i>tragedy</i>, or +some form of <i>comedy</i>. If it is a <i>musical comedy</i> and he enters, he +will see elaborate <i>scenery</i> and a play which may open with a <i>prologue</i> +and which is partly composed of <i>dialogue</i> between the various +<i>characters</i>, partly of songs in various <i>metres</i> sung by a <i>chorus</i> to +the accompaniment of an <i>orchestra</i>. As the words in italics indicate, +our imaginary passer-by will have seen, though he may not have suspected +it, a symbol of the indelible mark which the Greeks have set on the +aesthetic and intellectual life of Europe, and of the living presence of +Greece in the twentieth century. An ancient Athenian might be startled +at the sight of a musical comedy and its chorus, but he would be looking +at his own child, a descendant, however distant, degenerate, and hard to +recognize, of that chorus which with dance and song moved round the +altar of Dionysus in the theatre of his home.</p> + +<p>The same imprint, clear or faint, is on all our literary forms, except +perhaps one. Epic, lyric, elegiac, dramatic, didactic, poetry, history, +biography, rhetoric and oratory, the epigram, the essay, the sermon, the +novel, letter writing and literary criticism are all Greek by origin, +and in nearly every case their name betrays their source. Rome raises a +doubtful claim to satire, but the substance of satire is present in the +Old Comedy, and the form seems to have existed in writings now lost. +There are even one or two <i>genres</i>, such as the imaginary speech, which +Greece invented and which are not, fortunately, found in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +modern literature. When the curtain rose on Homer, European literature +did not exist: long before it falls on the late Byzantines, the lines +were laid on which it has moved up to our own day. This is the entire +work of a single people, politically weak, numerically small, materially +poor—according to the economy of nature which in things of the +mind and the spirit gives a germinating power to few. The Greeks are +justly admired for individual poems, plays, and pieces of writing; but +it was something even greater to have explored the possibilities of +literature so far that posterity, while it has developed Greek <i>genres</i>, +has not hitherto been able to add to them. This is one part of the Greek +Legacy to literature.</p> + +<p>Another part are the works themselves. Literature can only be judged by +reading it, and certainly it cannot be characterized in a few pages. But +a man ignorant of Greek and anxious to estimate its value might form +some idea by inquiring the opinions of qualified judges. He would find +them unanimous: I suppose it is true that no man of eminence qualified +to speak has ever spoken of Greek literature in any tone but one. The +first testimony is that of the Romans. It is borne by their literature, +starting in translations from Greek, adopting one after another of their +<i>genres</i>, permeated through and through (and most of all in the greatest +writers) by imitations, reminiscences, influences of Greek, confessing +and glorying in the debt. ‘In learning,’ says Cicero, +‘and in every branch of literature, the Greeks are our +masters.’<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a> +A Roman boy should begin his studies with Greek, Quintilian thought, +‘because Latin learning is derived from Greek.’<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a> +The same note is repeated in the literature of the Renaissance, and +re-echoed by the most various voices of our own century.</p> + +<p>‘Though one of the Greek tragedians may seem rather greater and +more complete than another, their work as a whole has a single pervading +quality. It is marked by grandeur,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +excellence, sanity, complete humanity, a high philosophy of life, a +lofty way of thinking, a powerful intuition (<i>Anschauung</i>). We find +these qualities in their surviving lyric and epic poetry as well as in +their drama: we find them in their philosophers, orators, and historians +and, to an equally high degree, in their surviving sculpture.’<a +name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a +href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a></p> + +<p>‘Beside the great Attic poets, like Aeschylus and Sophocles, I am +absolutely nothing.’<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></p> + +<p>‘He spoke with great animation of the advantage of classical +study, Greek especially. “Where,” he said, “would one +look for a greater orator than Demosthenes; or finer dramatic poetry, +next to Shakspere, than that of Aeschylus or Sophocles, not to speak of +Euripides.” Herodotus he thought “the most interesting and +instructive book, next to the Bible, which had ever been +written”.’<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a></p> + +<p>‘The period which intervened between the birth of Pericles and the +death of Aristotle is undoubtedly, whether considered in itself or with +reference to the effects which it has produced upon the subsequent +destinies of civilized man, the most memorable in the history of the +world.... The wrecks and fragments of these subtle and profound minds, +like the ruins of a fine statue, obscurely suggest to us the grandeur +and perfection of the whole. Their very language ... in variety, in +simplicity, in flexibility, and in copiousness, excels every other +language of the western world.’ Then, after some words on their +sculpture, he adds: ‘their poetry seems to maintain a very high, +though not so disproportionate a rank, in the comparison’ (with +other literatures).<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a></p> + +<p>‘The Greeks are the most remarkable people who have yet +existed.... They were the beginners of nearly everything, Christianity +excepted, of which the modern world makes its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +boast.... They were the first people who had a historical literature; +as perfect of its kind (though not the highest kind) as their oratory, +their sculpture, and their architecture. They were the founders of +mathematics, of physics, of the inductive study of politics, of the +philosophy of human nature and life. In each they made the indispensable +first steps, which are the foundation of all the rest.’<a +name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a +href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a></p> + +<p>‘I have gone back to Greek literature with a passion quite +astonishing to myself.... I felt as if I had never known before what +intellectual enjoyment was. Oh that wonderful people! There is not one +art, not one science, about which we may not use the same expression +which Lucretius has employed about the victory over superstition +“<i>Primum Graius homo</i>”. I think myself very fortunate in +having been able to return to these great masters while still in the +full vigour of life and when my taste and judgement are mature. Most +people read all the Greek that they ever read before they are +five-and-twenty.... A young man, whatever his genius may be, is no judge +of such a writer as Thucydides. I had no high opinion of him ten years +ago. I have now been reading him with a mind accustomed to historical +researches and to political affairs; and I am astonished at my own +former blindness, and at his greatness. I could not bear Euripides at +college. I now read my recantation. He has faults undoubtedly. But what +a poet!’<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a></p> + +<p>These men—and there is no difficulty in adding to their number—are not +only qualified but unprejudiced witnesses. They have no <i>parti pris</i>. +They cannot be accused, as schoolmasters and dons are sometimes accused, +of holding shares in a great Trading Bank of Greece and Rome Unlimited, +and having a personal motive for their enthusiasm. Nor can it be said +that they admired Greece because they knew nothing better. All—Goethe +no less than the others—had English +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +literature in their hands, knew it well and appreciated its greatness. +Yet this, given in their own words, is the impression which Greek made +on them. <i>Securus iudicat orbis terrarum</i>; and the verdict here is +plain. It is clear that we have in Greek a surviving body of poetry and +prose which is of unique interest to any one who cares for literature.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I have tried to give a summary answer to the question, What did the +Greeks achieve? They invented every literary <i>genre</i> which we know, they +laid the lines which European literature has followed, they created a +body of prose and poetry which has won the homage of the world. The +further question, What can the world still learn from them, is less easy +to answer. The answer lies in Greek literature, and the essence of a +literature cannot be extracted and bottled in a number of abstract +formulae. No literature is great in virtue of its qualities, which are +always something less than the literature itself, but only in so far as +it expands to the breadth of the universe and climbs to its height. This +is the final test which must be applied. How far Greek literature +satisfies it, can be judged from the testimonies which have been quoted +above.</p> + +<p>Remembering this let us deliberately narrow our view and talk of +qualities: and here, narrowing it again, let us confine the discussion +to certain qualities, which are found indeed in all literatures, but are +elsewhere neither so universal nor carried to so high a power. No one +can think of Greek literature without thinking of them; they live on the +lips of its admirers, and in them the inspiration of Greek literature is +chiefly enshrined. These essential qualities are Simplicity, Perfection +of Form, Truth and Beauty. Greek literature is much more than these +qualities. The <i>Agamemnon</i>, the <i>Oedipus</i>, the <i>Bacchae</i> are not to be +explained wholly by them. The greatness of these plays is partly +something individual, and partly it is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> +what makes <i>King Lear</i> or <i>Faust</i> or <i>Brand</i> great: and that is neither +entirely nor mainly simplicity or beauty or truth or form. But my object +is to emphasize qualities for which Greek is exceptional, and though +some critics may have talked of the beauty of Greek literature till +beauty was absurdly supposed to be its chief or only quality, they were +right to recognize the prominence of beauty there, and though truth is a +mark of the greatest writing in all languages, it is more universal in +Greek than in any other literature.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>If a reader turned from Milton to Homer, from Shakespeare to Sophocles, +from Plato or Aristotle to some modern work on ethics, politics, or +literary criticism, he would find one point of difference between the +earlier and the later writers in the greater simplicity of the former. +They are briefer: the <i>Oedipus Tyrannus</i> has 1530 lines while the first +two acts of <i>Hamlet</i> alone have more than 1600, and Greek histories and +philosophical writings are correspondingly shorter than their modern +counterparts. The whole of Thucydides could be printed in a twenty-four +page issue of <i>The Times</i>, and leave room to spare; the essay of +Aristotle on Poetry, which for generations dictated the principles of +dramatic writing, has forty-five short pages; the <i>Republic</i> of Plato, +which has influenced thought more than any other philosophic work, has a +little over three hundred. Brevity indeed is not always simplicity, and +it is possible to be at once simple and lengthy. But any one who +examines these Greek writers will find that they are brief, because, +avoiding bypaths and by-plots, elaboration or minute detail, they strike +out the central features of their picture with an effortless economy of +line. Their writing has a double quality. It shows a firm hold on the +central and fundamental things: and it presents them unmixed with and +unconfused by minor issues, so that they stand out like forest trees +which no undergrowth of brushwood masks. It is important +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +to make this distinction, for all great literature has the first of +these qualities; the second is largely an accident of time. As +civilization moves further from its origin, it cannot but receive a +thousand tributaries that continually augment its volume, and colour and +confuse its streams: at the sources it flows clear and untroubled. The +interests of an early age are the primal and essential interests of +human nature and the literature of such an age presents them unalloyed +and uncomplicated by lesser issues. In the thinkers the main and +fundamental problems stand clearly out, and Plato and Thucydides take us +straight to them. The poets make their poetry from emotions and +interests that are as old as man, and have none of the refinements and +complications which education and a long inheritance of culture superadd +to the essential stuff of human nature. ‘You Greeks are always +children,’ said the Egyptian priest to Solon; and he spoke the +truth in a sense which he did not mean. The Greeks’ feelings were +not dulled or sophisticated by the <i>damnosa hereditas</i> of the past. +Neither their life nor their mental atmosphere was complicated. They had +not ‘thought themselves into weariness’. They were the +children of the world, and they united the startling acuteness, +directness, and simplicity of children to the intellects of men.</p> + +<p>Pater took <i>La Gioconda</i> of Leonardo da Vinci to symbolize the +difference of modern and ancient art, and to illustrate the intricacy +and complication of the former, as compared with the simplicity of the +latter. ‘Hers is the head,’ he writes of the Monna Lisa, +‘upon which all “the ends of the world are come”, and +the eyelids are a little weary. It is a beauty wrought out from within +upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of strange thoughts +and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions. Set it for a moment +beside one of those white goddesses or beautiful women of antiquity, and +how would they be troubled by this beauty, into which the soul with all +its maladies has passed! All the thoughts and experience of the world +have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +etched and moulded there, in that which they have of power to +refine and make expressive the outward form.... She is older than the +rocks among which she sits; like the vampire, she has been dead many +times and learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep +seas, and keeps their fallen day about her ...; and all this lives only +in the delicacy with which it has moulded the changing lineaments, and +tinged the eyelids and the hands. The fancy of a perpetual life, +sweeping together ten thousand experiences, is an old one; and modern +thought has conceived the idea of humanity as wrought upon by, and +summing up in itself, all modes of thought and life. Certainly Lady Lisa +might stand as the embodiment of the old fancy, the symbol of the modern +idea.’ Slightly fanciful and Pateresque as these words are, they +are substantially true, as any one who sets Monna Lisa by a piece of +fifth-century sculpture can easily see. There is the same contrast +between Greek literature and our own. How ‘troubled’ would +Homer or Sophocles be by the writings of Browning or Meredith, of Henry +James or Conrad, in whom so many eddies and cross-currents of thought +and experience unite.</p> + +<p>Compare the story of Hector and Andromache with some famous passage from +any of these writers. ‘So spake glorious Hector and stretched out +his arm to his boy. But the child shrunk crying to the bosom of his +fair-girdled nurse, dismayed at the look of his dear father and in fear +of the bronze and the horsehair crest that nodded fiercely from his +helmet’s top. Then his dear father and his lady mother laughed +aloud: forthwith glorious Hector took the helmet from his head and laid +it, all gleaming, on the earth; then kissed he his dear son and danced +him in his arms, and spoke in prayer to Zeus and all the gods, “O +Zeus and all ye gods, grant that this my son may be as I am, pre-eminent +among the Trojans, and as valiant in might, and may he be a great king +of Troy.” So he spoke and laid his son in his dear wife’s +arms; and she took him to her fragrant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +bosom, smiling through tears. And her husband had pity to see her and +caressed her with his hand, and spoke and called her by her name: +“Dear one, I pray thee be not of oversorrowful heart; no man +against my fate shall send me to my death; but destiny, I ween, no man +hath escaped.” So spake glorious Hector and took up his +horsehair-crested helmet; and his dear wife departed to her home, often +looking back and letting fall great tears. And she came to the +well-built house of man-slaying Hector, and found therein her many +handmaidens, and stirred lamentation in them all. So they wept for +Hector, while he yet lived, in his house; for they thought that he would +no more come back to them from battle.’<a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> +These are emotions shared by mankind twenty centuries before Christ and +twenty centuries after him, common equally to Shakespeare or Napoleon +and to the stupidest and least educated of mankind; and these emotions +are expressed with a simplicity as elemental as themselves. Subjects as +simple may be found in our literature; expression as direct would be +hard to find. Even a primitive like Chaucer is the heir of dimly +apprehended inheritances from Greece and Rome, and is haunted by fancies +from lost and living fairylands of literature. It is in our Bible that +we find the elemental feelings of Homer and an expression even more +direct. ‘And she departed and wandered in the wilderness of +Beersheba. And the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast the child +under one of the shrubs. And she went and sat her down over against him +a good way off, as it were a bowshot: for she said, Let me not see the +death of the child. And she sat down over against him, and lift up her +voice, and wept.’<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a></p> + +<p>Like the writer of the Pentateuch, Homer lived in a world +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +whose emotions were elemental, and writing of this kind came naturally +to him. The weight of tradition began to weigh on succeeding ages, but +it never became heavy, because the accumulations were small and the +world was still comparatively simple. Also its poets and prose writers +moved in the fields of action as soldiers and politicians, continually +confronting the realities of life, and knowing them as they are, not as +they appear in a study. Thus their topics are central, the writing is +simple. The subjects of the <i>Oedipus Tyrannus</i> or the <i>Hercules Furens</i> +might be called morbid; but not the handling of them by Sophocles and +Euripides. The unnatural element is in the background and almost +unnoticed; the interest lies in the spectacle of great men in +overwhelming disaster—an elemental theme and belonging to the +general life of man. The treatment is as simple as in Homer, the figures +few, subordinate interests out of sight, the light thrown full on the +central tragedy. Hence comes a rare intensity, an immediacy of +impression, a sense of nearness to the thing described, which will +strike anyone who reads the messenger’s speech in the <i>Hercules +Furens</i>, or the scene where the identity of Oedipus is discovered, or +indeed any great passage in Greek Drama. This simplicity of treatment +persists, when with Menander and the Alexandrians we pass into a world +more like our own and find literature, still simple in form, but more +artistic, more intellectual, more literary, less centrally and +fundamentally human.</p> + +<p>It would be foolish to demand that modern writers should have the +simplicity of Homer or the age of Pericles, or to pretend that they +cannot be great without it. Every age must and will have its own +literature, reflecting the minds and circumstances of those who write +it. Nor is the advantage entirely on the side of the Greeks. A drama of +Shakespeare or a novel of Tolstoi, with their long roll of <i>dramatis +personae</i>, are more like life than a Greek tragedy with its absence of +byplot and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> +its few, central, characters. A modern historian would have recorded +and discussed aspects of the history of fifth-century Greece which +Thucydides ignores. Modern literature may claim that, with less +intensity, it has greater amplitude and a more faithful presentation of +the complexity of life. On the other hand the Greeks are free from that +dominance of the abnormal which is one danger of modern literature; they +do not explore sexual and other aberrations or encourage their readers +to explore them. They are also free from that dominance of the +unessential, which, in life as in literature, is a more innocent but +more subtle and perhaps equally ruinous vice. That is why their +simplicity is refreshing and salutary. <i>Porro unum necessarium.</i> In life +human beings return from a distracting variety of interests to a few +simple things; or, if they do not return, run the risk of losing their +souls. In literature, which is the shadow of life, they need to do the +same.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The simplicity of Greek literature is accompanied by the highest +literary art. Nothing could be more surprising. The primitive conditions +that preserve simplicity are apparently incompatible with technical +perfection, which is a late-born child of literature and the creation of +matured taste, long experiment, and patient work. But in Greek, and +perhaps only in Greek, <i>naïveté</i> and art go hand in hand. There is +something almost uncanny in Homer’s union of the two: it is a +paradox that the character of Achilles, the death of Hector, the +primitive cunning of Odysseus, should be portrayed in such a metre and +such a vocabulary; it seems unnatural that so highly wrought and refined +a medium should be used to depict the life and ideas of a society which +is nearer to savagery than to civilization. But unnatural or not, so it +is.</p> + +<p>The most obvious quality of Greek literature is its form, the high level +of its technique. There are exceptions: the earlier plays of Aeschylus +are crude in conception, the prose of Gorgias<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +is as fantastic as that of Lyly, the sentences of Thucydides are often +awkward and ungrammatical; Aeschylus stands at the origin of drama, +Gorgias and Thucydides are the creators of periodic prose, and they have +the weaknesses of pioneers. But in general, Greek work in poetry and +prose is highly wrought and finely finished; and so rapidly did their +art find itself, that within the lifetime of Aeschylus Sophocles reached +the highest level of dramatic and literary technique, and within a +generation from Thucydides Plato evolved his unequalled style. An +artistic instinct was in the blood of the Greeks, and betrays itself +throughout their literature, in the choric odes with their complicated +respondencies and subtle variations; in Plato arranging and rearranging +the first eight words of his <i>Republic</i>; in the interest which the +Greeks took in the theory of literary art, seeking here as elsewhere +<span class='t' title='logon didonai'>λογον διδοναι</span>, to give an account +of their practice. How much more they reflected on it than we do, the +<i>Rhetoric</i> of Aristotle, the <i>De Compositione</i> of Dionysius and the +endless writings of the rhetoricians show.</p> + +<p>This is universally admitted, but justice is more rarely done to even +clearer evidence of the Greek gift for technique. Other nations have +understood the art of writing, and left those monuments in words which +are as unsubstantial and fleeting as air, yet more imperishable than +brass or stone; but no nation has created literary art in the sense in +which the Greeks created it, or developed, as they did, the various +literary <i>genres</i> out of nothing. They had no models or guides or +external help. Rome had Greek literature to follow and herself gave +patterns to her successors; but the Greeks made what they made out of +nothing, and are thus creators in the true sense of the word, and as no +other people have been. Two instances, Homer and the Greek Drama, will +serve to show this.</p> + +<p>In the dawn of a literature at least, we expect roughness and crudity, +an uncertain judgement and a faltering hand; but the first known Greek +poem, like Athena in the myth, is born full<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +grown and mature. Yet its makers made the story and the rich language +and the elaborate and unrivalled metre for themselves. It does not +lessen this achievement that the Homeric poems may have been the fine +flower of a period of poetic growth; the work that went to form them was +done by Greeks. But it needs imagination to appreciate the difficulty of +the task which they undertook unconsciously and performed without theory +or deliberate purpose by the mere light of nature.</p> + +<p>It is hard to create even a primitive poetic vocabulary, where one does +not exist, and there is nothing primitive about</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">ὁι δ’ ὡς τ’ αιγυπιοι γαμψωνυχες αγκυλοχειλαι<br /></span> +<span class="i0">πετρη εφ’ ὑψηλη μεγαλα κλαζοντε μαχωνται,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{hoi d’ hôs t’ aigypioi gampsônyches ankylocheilai<br /></span> +<span class="i0">petrê eph’ hypsêlê megala klazonte machôntai,}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">or</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">ὁσσον δ’ ηεροειδες ανηρ ιδεν οφθαλμοισιν<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ἡμενος εν σκοπιη, λευσσων επι οινοπα ποντον,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">τοσσον επιθρωσκουσι θεων ὑψηχεες ἱπποι.<br /><a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{hosson d’ êeroeides anêr iden ophthalmoisin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hêmenos en skopiê, leussôn epi oinopa ponton,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">tosson epithrôskousi theôn hypsêchees hippoi.}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is hard, as the beginnings of Roman poetry show, to devise a metre +which is not rough, unmusical, or even grotesque: yet for richness and +strength this first metre of Europe has never been rivalled by the +Greeks or by any one else. The same natural technical skill appears in +more subtle things even than metre or language. Homer is born knowing by +some instinct the profound secret of literary art which Aristotle +formulated centuries later as the principle of unity of Action. The plot +of a play, he writes in the <i>Poetics</i>, ‘should have for its +subject a single action, whole and complete, with a beginning, a middle, +and an end.... It will differ in structure from historical compositions, +which of necessity present not a single action, but +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +a single period, and all that happened within that period to one person +or to many, little connected together as the events may be.... Such is +the practice, we may say, of most poets. Here again the transcendant +excellence of Homer appears. He never attempts to make the whole war of +Troy the subject of his poem. It would have been too vast a theme, and +not easily embraced in a single view: while if he had kept it in +moderate limits it would have been over-complicated by the variety of +incidents. As it is, he detaches a single portion.’<a +name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a +href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> Once stated, the +principle of unity of action becomes a commonplace of literary art. But, +as the <i>Annals</i> of Ennius or the <i>Faerie Queen</i> show, it is not obvious +until stated, and the poets from whose practice Aristotle made his +induction, must have had a rare technical instinct unconsciously to +preserve unity of interest through the complications of a long epic or +drama. Such achievements were only possible to a people with a natural +genius for literary art. In the hands of the Greeks the various elements +of literature found their <span class='t' title='telos'>τελος</span> +and achieved their natural form, almost with the same instinctive +evolution by which a seed unfolds to its predestined shape.</p> + +<p>This can be illustrated even better from Greek drama. A modern author +who wishes to write a play may not find the task easy, but he knows the +general form which a drama has to take and the general principles to be +followed in writing it. The right length is given him, the division into +scenes and acts, the methods of exposition and dialogue, the conception +of a <i>dénouement</i>, the law of unity of action, and the rest. The fathers +of Greek tragedy had no such help. They had no drama in our sense of the +word, but simply a band of fifty persons dressed like satyrs, and +dancing round an altar and singing a song. Out of this anything or +nothing might have been made. The Greeks, with the instinctive and +unerring motions of genius, developed from it the highest and most +elaborate of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> +literary forms, and within a hundred years are writing plays which +Shelley classes with <i>King Lear</i>, and which Swinburne can call, +‘probably, on the whole, the greatest spiritual work of +man’.</p> + +<p>In divining the principles of literary art and evolving the various +kinds of literature no people can be compared to the Greeks, and +probably none can show a mass of work executed with so uniformly high a +finish. But when we compare writer with writer we shall find individual +artists to rival them. Though the strength of English literature does +not lie in technical perfection, Milton, Pope, and Tennyson—to name no +others—have in their different ways as firm a grasp of it as any Greek, +and it can be learned from French writers, with whom it is the rule +rather than the exception, as well as from the Greeks. This is hardly +true of another quality of Greek writing, which may be classed with +technical finish, though it is in fact something more. It is one of the +most characteristic features of Greek; yet on first acquaintance, it is +often disconcerting and even distasteful. If a reader new to the +classics opened Thucydides, his first impression would probably be one +of jejuneness, of baldness. If, fresh from Shelley or Tennyson, he came +across the epigram of Simonides on the Spartan dead at Thermopylae,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">ω ξειν’, αγγελλειν Αακεδαιμονιοις ὁτι τηδε<br /></span> +<span class="i2">κειμεθα, τοις κεινων ῥημασι πειθομενοι,<br /><a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{ô xein’, angellein Aakedaimoniois hoti têde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">keimetha, tois keinôn rhêmasi peithomenoi,}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>he might see little in it but a prosaic want of colour. This exceeding +simplicity or economy is a stumbling-block to those who are accustomed +to the expansive modern manner. Yet such a reader would have been making +the acquaintance of some of the finest things in Greek literature, which +is always at its greatest when most simple, and he would have been face +to face with a characteristic quality of it.</p> + +<p>The contrast with the usual English manner may be illustrated +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +by quoting a famous epigram—Ben Jonson’s epitaph on a boy actor:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Weep with me, all you that read<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This little story;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know, for whom a tear you shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death’s self is sorry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">’Twas a child that so did thrive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In grace and feature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As heaven and nature seemed to strive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which owned the creature.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years he numbered scarce thirteen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Fates turned cruel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet three filled zodiacs had he been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stage’s jewel;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And did act (what now we moan)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old men so duly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sooth the Parcae thought him one,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He played so truly.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, by error, to his fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They all consented;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, viewing him since, alas, too late!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They have repented.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These lines—and they are not the whole of the poem—are enough to +illustrate the difference between the Greek method and the English, the +latter rich and profuse, following the flow of an opulent fancy, the +former reticent and restrained, leaving the reader’s imagination +room and need to play its part. There are materials for half-a-dozen +epigrams in Ben Jonson’s poem. Had he been Simonides or Plato, he +would have stopped after the fourth line and, in the opinion of some +critics, by saving his paper he would have improved his poem.</p> + +<p>In their theory and in their practice the Greek writers were true to +this principle of Economy. Their proverbs proclaim it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +‘the half is greater than the whole’: ‘sow with the +hand and not with the whole sack.’ The great passages of their +literature illustrate it. It is to be found no less in Thucydides’ +account of the siege of Syracuse and in the close of the <i>Phaedo</i> or the +<i>Republic</i> than in the death of Hector or the meeting of Priam and +Achilles. The Greek writers may have emotions that would seem to demand +vehement and extended expression, topics to inspire a poet and tempt him +to amplify them; but resisting the temptation they set the facts down +quietly and pass on practically without comment. The close of the +<i>Phaedo</i> exemplifies this restraint. Plato has just related with severe +economy of detail the death of his master. His comment on the event +which saddened and confounded his whole life is but this: ‘Such, +Echecrates, was the death of our friend, the best man, I think, that I +have ever known, the wisest too and the most just.’<a +name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a +href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a></p> + +<p>There are noble examples of reticence and economy in English literature, +some of the most conspicuous of which can be traced to classical +influence; but no one would contend that these qualities are the rule in +our great writers. The English genius is rich and lavish rather than +restrained. It is less in its nature to write like Sappho,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ἑσπερε, παντα φερων οσα φαινολις εσκεδας’ αυως,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">φερεις οιν, φερες αιγα, φερεις απυ ματερι παιδα,<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{Hespere, panta pherôn osa phainolis eskedas’ auôs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">phereis oin, pheres aiga, phereis apy materi paida,}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">than like Byron,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Hesperus, thou bringest all good things—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home to the weary, to the hungry cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the young bird the parent’s brooding wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The welcome stall to the o’er-laboured steer;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whate’er of peace about our hearthstone clings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate’er our household gods protect of dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are gathered round us by thy look of rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bring’st the child too to its mother’s breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Something may be said in favour of both methods. Amplitude of treatment +and fullness of detail enrich the imagination while economy stimulates +it. The latter may become jejune, and is safe only in the hands of great +writers: the former is apt to provide too rich a feast and to leave the +full-fed mind inert. Everything is done for it and nothing left it to +do. Economy on the other hand throws the reader on his own resources. It +sets the imagination wandering in the fields of infinity. Some readers +find this one of the essential delights of literature, though others +prefer that the author should take them by the hand and indicate every +detail with the precision of the sign-posts at a German <i>Kurort</i>.</p> + +<p>Economy is the reflection in literature of that <span class='t' title='sôphrosynê'>σωφροσυνη</span>, +which is the most deeply-rooted of Greek ideals, the most untranslatable +of Greek words. But it was helped by an accident. If the art of printing +were lost, modern works would contract within narrower limits, and the +Greek economy was encouraged by the fact that Fust was not yet born. We, +who do not rely on hand-copying for the propagation of our books, +naturally write at greater length: and while it loses in conciseness, +literature has a compensating gain in amplitude. But the habit of +writing for money, which encourages abundant production, and the +existence of the printing-press, which makes it easy, expose us to +dangers from which the ancients were free. The newspapers are the worst +offenders, saying many things which need not be said at all, and saying +everything in a superfluous and excessive way. But literature suffers +hardly less. The greatest figures of the last fifty years, such as +Browning, Meredith, Hardy and Conrad, dilute their pages with +unessential, if not inferior, stuff, and produce writing which has not +received the <i>summa<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +manus</i>. Had their work been less by a half—a modest +reduction—it would have been more perfect because more time could +have been devoted to it, more powerful because each stroke would have +been precise and strong, more telling because these strokes would not +have been combined with ineffective blows. This is even truer of lesser +men and other forms of literature. It is because the <i>Agricola</i> of +Tacitus extends to but thirty pages, that the biography of a Roman civil +servant of no great genius will outlive those of far greater men. The +art of omission is the art which English writers most need to learn; the +literary <i>lima</i> is their least-handled tool. Both art and tool were +perfectly understood and constantly used by the Greeks.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The third mark of Greek Literature, with which I have to deal, is +perhaps its most important, certainly its most universal quality. It is +truthfulness. The Greeks told no fewer lies than other races, but they +had the desire and the power to see the world as it is. By this +essential quality they gave Europe the conception of philosophy and +science. These we inherit from them alone; Palestine and our German +ancestors neither created them, nor show any signs of the temper that +creates them, and Rome received her share from Greece.</p> + +<p>The word ‘Truthfulness’ may seem to suggest the realism of +some modern writers. But the Greek truthfulness was different. It should +be distinguished from the laboured detachment and painful impartiality +of such a writer as Flaubert, whose realism conceals him in the same +sense as the walls of the engine-room conceal the panting machines +within. The Greek Truthfulness is spontaneous, natural, and +effortless—the native quality of the artist, who sees, and forgets +himself in the vision. Nor has it anything to do with photographic +realism. It has not the impersonality of that method or its flat and +lifeless effect. A man, and no machine, makes the picture, feeling +intensely what he sees, and though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +this intensity does not distort his vision, we are conscious, as we +read, of a human personality, and we feel the electric thrill of life.</p> + +<p>Nor is it akin to that type of modern realism, which, like a noxious +drug, lays hold on the spirits and depresses the heart—the realism +which paints so black a picture of human life, that it affects us +physically like days of continued fog, and gives us no more complete and +truthful a picture of the world. There is hardly any Greek writer, +perhaps none at all, of whom this can be said. Many moderns can +faithfully describe what is disagreeable, but their effects are often +brutal and always depressing. The gift of portraying suffering and evil +with unflinching truth, yet of conveying other feelings than those of +mere horror, is reserved for few. Its rarity perhaps explains the rarity +of great tragedy, of which it seems to be a condition that it shall +truthfully show what is darkest in life, without leaving a final and +dominant sense of gloom. The great Greek writers possessed this secret. +They are as sensitive to evil and suffering as any writer and fully as +faithful in recording them. But whereas other men are simply depressed +or disgusted or appalled, lose their vital forces, and gaze in paralysed +fascination, these writers, in virtue of a sense which is more aesthetic +than moral, are aware of tremendous issues, see in sordid suffering the +agonies of a labouring universe, and feel awe and wonder, not mere +disgust and distress, at what human beings suffer and endure. That is +why Homer leaves us with another feeling than depression, when he tells +how Priam begged his son’s body from the man who killed him. +‘So Priam entered unseen of them and stood near and clasped with +his hands the knees of Achilles and kissed the terrible murderous hands +that had slain so many of his sons. But Achilles was amazed at the sight +of Priam, and amazed were the rest, and they looked at each other. And +Priam entreated and addressed him. “Remember your own father, +godlike Achilles: he is of like years with me, and stands on the +hateful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> +road of old age. Perhaps the neighbours round about harry him and there +is none to keep misery and ruin from him. Yet when he hears that you are +alive, he rejoices and hopes, day in, day out, to see his dear son +returning from Troy. But I am utterly wretched, for I begat the best of +sons in Troy, and none of them is left. The one I had, who was the stay +of Troy and its people, you killed but now as he fought for his +country—even Hector. Respect the gods, Achilles, and pity me, and +remember your own father. I am more unhappy than he. I have faced what +no other mortal man ever yet faced—to stretch my hand to the face +of my sons’ slayer.”’<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a> +There is suffering and evil enough here, and there is no attempt to +disguise or lessen them. Yet most readers, I think, would read this +passage with different feelings from those provoked by the close of +<i>Madame Bovary</i> or of <i>Jude the Obscure</i>. Its truthfulness is neither +ugly nor depressing.</p> + +<p>Nor again is the Greek truthfulness identical with objectivity. An +objective writer tells his story and conveys his impressions, as far as +possible, by relating facts without commenting upon them. Dramatists and +novelists are compelled by the nature of their art to be objective in +this sense of the word (though Fielding and Thackeray in the one field, +and Ibsen and Shaw in the other, manage to make their comments with +their own lips, not those of their characters). But such a writer would +not of necessity be more truthful or impartial than any one else. He can +distort truth as thoroughly by selecting certain facts and ignoring +others as by making misleading comments. He may be violently one-sided +and present only the facts that support his view, thus indirectly +putting himself into what he writes quite as fully as a confessed +partizan, though less openly. Such a writer is objective, but his +objectivity with him is no more than a literary method. Now it is true +that the Greeks use this method, telling a story without personal +comments, not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> +in their epics and plays where this method is natural, but also in +their histories and elsewhere. Thucydides for instance tells the story +of a great war, yet his comments on it are few, and are mainly given in +the dramatic and would-be objective form of speeches by leading men of +the day. But the Greeks have objectivity in a far more important sense +than this. Their objectivity is no literary device but a quality of +mind. They have the power of standing aloof from matters in which they +are personally interested, and surveying them from outside like +impartial spectators, with the keenest interest, but without bias. As +the Delphic priestess in the act of prophecy lost her individuality and +became the mouthpiece of the god, so the Greek allowed facts to speak +for themselves, became their mouthpiece and banished the intrusive ego. +If therefore we call the Greeks objective, all this must be included in +our definition of the word.</p> + +<p>We shall understand Greek ‘truthfulness’ best, if, dropping +philosophical terms, and forgetting modern meanings, we remember a +saying of Anaxagoras, who, when asked for what purpose he was born, +replied: ‘To contemplate the works of nature.’ The +disinterested passion for contemplating things, which gathered inquiring +groups round Socrates to discuss what justice and friendship mean, or +whether goodness is knowledge and can be learnt, has its counterpart in +literature. The Greeks were fascinated by the spectacle of man and the +world, and their fascination is seen not only in their formal +philosophy. Of their poets too it may be said that they were born to see +the world and human life—not to moralize or to indulge in sentiment or +rhetoric or mysticism about it, but to see it. Keats’s description +of the poetic temperament fits them closely: ‘It has no self, it +is everything and nothing.... It enjoys light and shade.... A poet is +the most unpoetical of anything in existence, he is continually in, for, +and filling some other body.’ In such a mood men will write +literature that may justly be called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> +truthful. Avoiding the didactic, they will not distort truth to suit +personal bias; avoiding rhetoric, they will not sacrifice it to fine +phrases; avoiding sentiment and fancy, they will not gratify their own +or their hearer’s feelings at the expense of truth; avoiding +mysticism, they will not move away from facts into a world of emotions. +Their care will be to see things, and their delight will be in the mere +vision. They will echo the words of Keats, ‘If a sparrow comes +before my windows, I take part in its existence and pick about the +gravel’<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a>: +they will not treat it as Shelley treats the skylark, or even as Keats +and Wordsworth treat the nightingale. Herein is one of the secrets of +Greek poetry, for the Greek poets, more than any others, bring us in a +manner entirely simple and natural into immediate contact with what they +describe, and thus escape the thousand distortions for which epigram, +rhetoric, sentiment, fancy, mysticism and romanticism are responsible. +This secret may be called ‘directness’. It is the habit of +looking straight and steadily at things, and describing them as they +are, the very contrary of the habit of didactic comment and of +rhetorical or emotional inflation. The ‘direct’ writer, in +the fullest extent that is possible, keeps himself and his feelings in +the background. He does not allow the mists which rise from a +man’s personality to come between him and his subject.</p> + +<p>A few instances of directness will give a better idea of it than many +definitions. The epigram quoted a few pages back shows how the Greek +writer lets his subject speak instead of expressing his own feelings +about it. So does the following epitaph, placed by a father on his +son’s grave.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Δωδεκετη τον παιδα πατηρ απεθηκε Φιλιππος<br /></span> +<span class="i2">ενθαδε την πολλην ελπιδα Νικοτελην.<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{Dôdeketê ton paida patêr apethêke Philippos<br /></span> +<span class="i2">enthade tên pollên elpida Nikotelên.}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> +The bereaved father says nothing of his sorrow, or the greatness of his +loss, but records his son’s name and age and says that he was his +father’s ‘high hope’, and so doing gives us +everything. Simonides does not express his own feelings about the +heroism of the Spartan dead; their grave speaks for them to the +passer-by. Nor is this a mere literary method, a way of writing which +states facts and leaves them to make an impression by their own weight, +unaided by comment or explanation. A comparison of Ben Jonson’s +epigram with the Greek epitaph, will show that directness is much more +than this. The fancies with which Jonson closes are pretty; but they are +false, for they are really incompatible with deep feeling: the Greek +directness never loses from sight the dead child; it sees only that and +the father’s sorrow.</p> + +<p>The following extract deals with a very different subject, but +illustrates directness equally well. The scene is the Athenian colony of +Amphipolis on the Struma; the dramatis personae are the Spartan general +Brasidas who wishes to capture it, and the Athenian Thucydides who was +then at Thasos, distant half a day’s sail from Amphipolis. +‘As soon as Thucydides heard the news about Brasidas, he sailed +quickly to Amphipolis ... in order to garrison it if possible before it +could capitulate, or at any rate to occupy Eion (its seaport). Meanwhile +Brasidas, fearing the arrival of the Athenian fleet at Thasos and +hearing that Thucydides ... was one of the leading men of the country, +did his utmost to get possession of the city before he arrived.... He +therefore offered moderate terms.... These terms were accepted, and the +city was surrendered to him. On the evening of the same day Thucydides +and his ships sailed into Eion, but not until Brasidas had taken +possession of Amphipolis: another night, and he would have seized +Eion.’<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a> +The gist of the story contained in this extract is plain. The Spartan +general Brasidas seized the important town of Amphipolis, and the +Athenian<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +general came too late to save it. But who would guess that the Athenian +general Thucydides was the historian Thucydides who wrote these words, +and that the episode which he here describes with such detachment and +neutrality earned him perpetual exile under pain of death, from the +country which he passionately loved? Thucydides has told the bare facts, +objectively, as if they related to some one else, without a comment, +without a word of protest, excuse, explanation or regret on the crowning +disaster of his life. He writes of himself in the third person. This is +not the way in which modern generals write of their mishaps, but it is +the Greek way. Thucydides has forgotten himself and his feelings; he +sees only the disastrous day when he sailed up the Struma with his ships +and found the gates of Amphipolis closed against him. He ignores himself +so far that he does not call it disastrous, though disastrous it was for +himself and his country. With the same detachment he speaks of the +enslavement of Melos and the tragedy of Syracuse, though he thinks, and +makes us feel, that the one was the crowning crime, the other the +crowning disaster of his country. He narrates the plain facts and leaves +the reader to draw his inferences. If we did not know that he was an +Athenian, we could hardly tell from his history whether he took the side +of Athens or Sparta in the war; so entirely are he and his feelings kept +in the background. Yet he was an ardent patriot, and he is describing +the war in which his country lost supremacy and empire. No historian of +the war of 1914-18, whether on the Allied or the German side, is likely +to write of it in this way.</p> + +<p>The art of Homer has the same quality of detachment. He is a Greek, +writing of a ten years’ war between Greeks and Asiatics, yet most +of his readers sympathize with Hector rather than with Achilles. He +himself preferred neither, but saw and felt equally with both; with the +hero who fought the losing battle for Troy, and with him who lost his +friend, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +intoxicated with sorrow, could see and feel nothing but a passion of +revenge. It would seem hardly possible to write the close of the 22nd +Book of the <i>Iliad</i>, where the heroes meet, without taking sides; we, no +doubt, should take Hector’s side. But Homer stands apart from the +quarrel, and sees both men and the feelings of both, writing with the +pen of the Recording Angel, not of the Judge. What he or Thucydides +thought in each case can only be guessed at. They have presented the +facts without comment, and the facts tell their own tale, explain +themselves, carry with them the feelings they should evoke, and shine by +their own light, like the phosphorescence of the sea.</p> + +<p>Little thinking is needed to see that the direct, detached, objective +temper is the generative principle of the Greek achievement, for it is +the parent of science and philosophy, which are the children of a desire +to see things in themselves as they are, and not as the seer might wish +them to be. The effects of this temper in poetry can be appreciated by a +comparison of certain phenomena of our own literature which are absent +from Greek. The comparison will indicate, too, what modern writers can +learn from the Greeks, and enable us to judge whether the lessons are +needed.</p> + +<p>The habit of keeping the eye on the subject, which is the essence of +directness, discourages, and indeed excludes, conventionality, +sentimentalism, fancifulness, which prevent a writer from seeing and +recording life as it is. These failings are always with us, and as I +have given one instance of their working in Ben Jonson’s epigram +and have discussed the matter elsewhere,<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a> +I shall pass to diseases which are more particularly modern, and with +which directness is equally at war.</p> + +<p>The richness of the English language is in itself a danger. English, +like Latin, lends itself superbly to ranting, a capacity +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +discovered by the Elizabethans. Modern writers tend to more delicate +excess, and have exploited the musical quality of English. This is clear +from such a collection as the <i>Oxford Book of Victorian Verse</i>, which +faithfully represents the output of the age, and contains some fine +poetry, but also a very large percentage of what Horace called, <i>Versus +inopes rerum nugaeque canorae</i>. There is an intolerable deal of sack to +a very little bread among the imitators of Tennyson. To such rhetorical +or musical trifles no better antidote can be found than Greek +literature, for there is no rhetoric in it, and what melodious nothings +it contained, were parodied in its own age and have scantily survived to +ours. In general it avoided both by its directness. The rhetoric of +Lucan or Byron, the predominance of sound over sense in some of Shelley +and much of Swinburne arise because those poets shut their eyes to the +real world and become lost in the music of words. The Greek, starting +with facts, not with sounds or with feelings about facts, could not +easily become the victim of words. The temptation did not arise for him, +or if it did, his sin was easily detected. Herein he is a good model, +especially for poets who are apt to lose sight of the earth and pass +into an unearthly paradise of vague feelings. For the greatest poetry is +the poetry of things, not of words, and to whatever regions the Muse may +take her flight, she can only be safe if she starts from Earth, and +keeps her communication with it open.</p> + +<p>Directness is also a protection against that literature of egotism which +is the excess into which subjective poetry easily falls. Legitimate when +kept within bounds, the habit of putting oneself into what one writes +can become an offence, and from this offence English literature is not +free. No one can complain because Milton and Wordsworth are less +detached than Shakespeare or Sophocles; but the subjectivity of Byron or +Carlyle is very different. Their subject is continually darkened by the +shadow of their personality; it suffers a partial, at times +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +a total, eclipse. Childe Harold sees himself in all that he sees, +projects himself into Belgium, Athens and Rome, and colours the bluest +skies with the jaundiced hues of his temperament. This is almost equally +true of Carlyle’s pupils, Ruskin and Froude, and, among the +moderns, of a swarm of minor poets and novelists, who display before the +public the pageant of their indignant or bleeding hearts. Egotism is a +fault of manners as much as of morals, and has its peculiar effect and +its appropriate penalty. Its effect is to distract a man’s +attention from major to minor issues, from the large world to the small +self; its penalty is that it wearies its audience, and the next +generation, if not its own, dislikes the continual obtrusion of an +element in which it has no interest. Hence oblivion, often unjust, is +the punishment which the egotist suffers. Even our age, interested as it +is in personalities, has little time to spare for those of Byron or +Carlyle; it is too busy with the characters of its own contemporaries to +trouble about those of its predecessors. But no Greek writer is +forgotten for this cause. Whatever their other offences, the Greeks are +free from literary egotism. Directness turned their eyes to the external +world, and taught them to see even themselves from without.</p> + +<p>Egotism is a minor defect in English literature. To some it may even +seem to be a virtue. A more serious weakness, which our literature +shares with other modern literatures, is one-sidedness or incompleteness +of view, which reveals itself by a series of reactions, and in England +has taken the form of an oscillation between sentimentalism and a rather +cruel realism, the latter being dominant at the present time. These two +schools represent excesses of temperament, the one of generosity and +kindliness, the other of truth; and among our writers of genius Dickens +and Hardy typify them well. The one school desire in fiction to reward +their good characters and punish the bad, just as they would wish that +life should do;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> +and truth is not allowed to thwart their benevolence or their +indignation. In defiance of all probability Micawber and Mr. Mell make a +success of life in Australia, though truth cries out that they were born +to be failures; while the foot of punishment moves more swiftly and +visibly in the pages of Dickens than it does in fact. Then comes the +veracious person, who, growing indignant at a travesty of life that +misleads the reader and insults truth, gives us the opposite extreme in +an imagined world where the shadows are deepened and the high lights +carefully blocked out. Scott and Dickens picture a world in which at the +end vice finds itself in the gutter while virtue marries the heroine. +Later, Thomas Hardy has given us <i>Jude the Obscure</i> and <i>Tess of the +D’Urbervilles</i>.<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a> +Here is a protest, a redressing of the balance, by an advocate who rises +to supply a side of the case which has been ignored. Yet once again +Truth is violated, and by her sworn servant; for the world that Hardy +portrays is not the world as it is. When Dickens makes Mr. Micawber the +District Magistrate of Port Middlebay, he is not representing life, but +saying what he and his audience would like to believe in order to feel +comfortable when they close the book. As a protest therefore against him +in the next generation comes Thomas Hardy, who after recording the +miserable end of Tess, writes ‘The President of the immortals had +ended his sport with Tess’. In so writing he is no true recorder +any more than was Dickens, but the self-appointed Judge of a universe +which he conceives to be cruel.</p> + +<p>Neither Dickens nor Hardy can be called unveracious writers; both give a +picture of life that is true up to a point. Hardy, in particular, errs +less by distortion than by omission; he sees<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +one side of life, but at the expense of another side; he fails to hold +the balance fairly, and lacks the large charity of the universe. Both +writers are incomplete. No one could say of them, what is completely +true of most Greek writers and largely true of all, that they see life +steadily and see it whole. Still less can this be said of their +followers, who, after the fashion of disciples, imitate and develop +their defects, and oscillate between sentimental falsity, and the +starkness and brutality which have been familiar in English literature +during the last twenty years and in French literature for a much longer +period. None of these writers, not even the best, is direct. Like +Dickens, they consult their generous hearts, or, worse, ask: ‘Can +truth be told without making the public angry?’ Or, like Hardy, +they veil a didactic purpose under the name of realism, and register a +bitter personal protest against the cruelty of life. In either case they +narrow their view, and see the world through a mist of temperament.</p> + +<p>This point may be illustrated by examining a famous passage from Homer, +and then asking how a sentimental and a realistic writer might have +treated it. Imagine the death of Hector in the hands of Dickens or +Hardy. The first most probably would not have permitted it to occur, or, +if he had, would have made Achilles the villain of the piece and +emphasized and developed the tragedy in the manner of his death scenes, +till he had wearied the reader with pathos. Confronted with such a +tragedy he would have given the rein to emotion. Mr. Hardy, we may +guess, would be impressed less by the pathos of the scene, than by the +savagery of Achilles and the misgovernment of a universe in which such +things were possible, and he would not have let these morals escape his +readers. By small touches, by stressing suitable incidents, he would +have made the tragedy more tragic, and the brutality more brutal. It is +thus that he has treated the death of Jude. By so doing, both Dickens +and Hardy in their different ways, would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +been allowing their own personalities rather than the facts to speak, +and, seeing only one side of the story, would have made it less +complicated than life and less complete. But in the <i>Iliad</i> we see +nothing of Homer’s personality and hear no voice but that of the +facts. The story tells itself without the heightening of artifice. The +two men are brought before our eyes—Hector, the last hope of Troy, +with his wife and child waiting for him at home—Achilles, mad with +the memory of his dead friend. There is no judgement and no comment, but +only the thing as it was.</p> + +<p>To those who would maintain that Dickens or Hardy give an accurate +picture of the world, there are two answers. First, their world is not +the world as Shakespeare or Meredith sees it; this for many persons will +be a sufficient disproof of its reality. Second, the history of English +and French literatures has been for the last 150 years a history of +successive reactions. The classical school was followed by the +romantics, the romantics by the realists; each was a protest and a +reaction against its predecessor. These swerving movements must have a +cause. Now there are no reactions in literature unless there is some +excess to provoke them. The existence of a reaction is a symptom of +disease, and not only would it never take place apart from disease, but +there is always a chance that it may go too far; for as in the body, so +in the world of letters, a balance once disturbed is difficult to +restore. But Greek literature, unlike our own and unlike French, at no +stage developed by reaction. Its epic poets are followed by the lyrists +and these by the tragedians: tragedy passes into the New Comedy, which +is followed by the learned and artistic poetry of Alexandria. In prose +the unperiodic style of Herodotus is succeeded by the style of +Thucydides; while Plato and the various orators develop different types +of writing. None of these styles, however, and none of these writers, +are in reaction against one another. Some traces of reaction +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +against the Homeric outlook of Sophocles may perhaps be found in +Euripides. But this contrast lies between two individual writers and not +between two literary schools, and has no analogy with the relation of +the romantic to the classical or to the realist movements. It is far +less marked, for instance, than the contrast between Voltaire and Victor +Hugo or that between Victor Hugo and Flaubert. There is no reaction in +the development of Greek literature, because at no stage is there any +excess to react from; and there is no excess, because the Greek writers +are direct and objective, because they are mirrors that reflect life, +not imperfect lenses that distort it each according to its own +imperfection.</p> + +<p>The literature of the Elizabethans here resembles Greek. It is indeed +more wayward, more fanciful, more personal, more luxuriant than the +Greek; but it is on the whole more disinterested, freer from any +didactic bent, more inclined to contemplate life for its own sake than +the literature of any succeeding epoch in England. Since the Puritans a +didactic strain has continually appeared in our writers. We have had +revolts and protests, and then, by reaction, more protests and revolts. +However admirable in morals, this Protestantism is injurious in +literature, for, like all rebellions, it ends in excess and destroys the +even-balanced temper which is essential to the creation of the greatest +literature. This didactic temper, often disguised as realism, has never +been stronger than in our own age, when many who might have found their +profession in the Churches are diverted to other paths and seek in +literature an outlet that in the past would have been found in the +pulpit. Messrs. Wells, Shaw, Galsworthy—to mention no others—are +parsons <i>manqués</i>, who were designed by nature to write not plays or +novels but sermons. Or rather they are dual personalities: clergyman and +creative writer have been combined in them and the clergyman has +corrupted the poet. The unsatisfied appetite for preaching which a +hundred years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +ago would have been quieted by writing an evangelical tract, to-day +issues in a novel or a play. The moral differs, the form changes, the +intention and temper are the same.</p> + +<p>It is ungrateful to cavil at this moralizing and didactic temper, which +animates a large part of the nation and is responsible for much of the +British achievement. But its place is in the world of action not in that +of letters, and it does not produce the greatest literature or the +truest thought. The Greeks might have gained by a greater infusion of +it: we, on the other hand, can learn something from their intellectual +disinterestedness which in political and social controversies would make +opposing views more intelligible and the path to truth easier and +plainer, in literature would free us from excesses that are followed by +reaction to a contrary excess, and in national life would guard us from +the materialism which besets an industrial and commercial age. It is not +confined to the Greeks; but by no people is the ideal of intellectual +truth more clearly and universally exhibited than by those who first +brought it into an indifferent world, and who built upon it their +literature and art no less than their science and philosophy.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The last quality of Greek literature of which I wish to speak is not one +which we should expect to find in combination with truthfulness; it is +certainly very rare in modern realists. Yet the Greek instinct for +beauty is beyond question. There is the evidence of Winckelmann, who, +living in a world that had forgotten Greek, rediscovered it; or of +Keats, who was not brought up to the familiarity with Greek that breeds +obtuseness and indifference, but made acquaintance with it when he was +of an age to judge. The impression made both on Keats and Winckelmann is +that of a new and surpassing beauty. There is the evidence of ‘the +beautiful mythology of Greece’,<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a> +the offspring of an untaught folk-imagination, and so far +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +richer in the quality of beauty than the mythology of the North. Even +in the sawdust of a mythological dictionary the stories of Atalanta, +Narcissus, Pygmalion, Orpheus and Eurydice, Phaethon, Medusa keep their +magic.</p> + +<p>The following extract from the hymn of Demeter may illustrate this +beauty, though it is not one of the greatest passages of Greek +literature and its writer is unknown. It is the story of the Earth +Mother and her daughter Persephone:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">ἡν Αιδωνευς<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ἡρπαξεν, δωκεν δε βαρυκτυπος ευρυοπα Ζευς,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">παιζουσαν κουρησι συν Ωκεανου βαθυκολποις<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ανθεα τ’ αινυμενην, ῥοδα και κροκον ηδ’ ια καλα<br /></span> +<span class="i0">λειμων’ αμ μαλακον και αγαλλιδας ηδ’ ὑακινθον<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ναρκισσον θ’, ὁν φυσε δολον καλυκωπιδι κουρη<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Γαια Διος βουλησι χαριζομενη Πολυδεκτη,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">θαυμαστον γανοωντα· σεβας το γε πασιν ιδεσθαι<br /></span> +<span class="i0">αθανατοις τε θεοις ηδε θνητοις ανθρωποις·<br /></span> +<span class="i0">του και απο ῥιζης ἑκατον καρα εξεπεφυκει,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">κωζ’ ἡδιστ’ οδμη, πας δ’ ουρανος ευρυς ὑπερθε<br /></span> +<span class="i0">γαια τε πας’ εγελασσε και ἁλμυρον οιδμα θαλασσης.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ἡ δ’ αρα θαμβησας’ ωρεξατο χερσιν ἁμ’ αμφω<br /></span> +<span class="i0">καλον αθυρμα λαβειν· χανε δε χθων ευρυαγυια<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Νυσιον αμ πεδιον, τη ορουσεν αναξ Πολυδεγμων<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ἱπποις αθανατοισι.<a name="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">{hên Aidôneus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hêrpaxen, dôken de baryktypos euryopa Zeus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">paizousan kourêsi syn Ôkeanou bathykolpois<br /></span> +<span class="i0">anthea t' ainymenên, rhoda kai krokon êd' ia kala<br /></span> +<span class="i0">leimôn' am malakon kai agallidas êd' hyakinthon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">narkisson th', hon physe dolon kalukôpidi kourê<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaia Dios boulêsi charizomenê Polydektê,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">thaumaston ganoônta; sebas to ge pasin idesthai<br /></span> +<span class="i0">athanatois te theois êde thnêtois anthrôpois;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">tou kai apo rhizês hekaton kara exepephykei,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">kôz' hêdist' odmê, pas d' ouranos eurys hyperthe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">gaia te pas' egelasse kai halmyron oidma thalassês.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hê d' ara thambêsas' ôrexato chersin ham' amphô<br /></span> +<span class="i0">kalon athyrma labein; chane de chthôn euryagyia<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nysion am pedion, tê orousen anax Polydegmôn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hippois athanatoisi.}<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Turn from this to some parallel poem in English literature, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +such as <i>Oenone</i> or <i>Tithonus</i>. Beautiful as Tennyson is, the Greek has +a better beauty, a beauty not of words or metaphors or highly-wrought +art, but simpler, more spontaneous and more instinctive, as though not +man but nature herself was speaking. Two writers, who are qualified to +judge by being themselves among the great poets of the world, and who +knew and appreciated other literatures, but speak in this way about +Greek alone, have testified to the uniqueness of this beauty. Goethe +says stiffly but precisely: ‘in the presence of antiquity the mind +feels itself placed in the most ideal state of nature; and even to this +day the Homeric hymns have the power of freeing us, at any rate, for +moments, from the terrible burden which the tradition of many hundreds +of years has rolled upon us.’ In these words Goethe has touched on +the simplicity and the naturalness of Greek beauty, in contrast to the +more exotic and elaborate beauty of which mediaeval and modern art and +literature are full. Keats writing about the Grecian urn also had in his +mind the liberating power of Greek beauty:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As doth eternity; Cold Pastoral!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When old age shall this generation waste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty’—that is all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye know on earth and all ye need to know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These words point to another trait of Greek beauty, which any one who +has seen Greek statues must have felt: it does not provoke speculation +just as it does not excite desire, because no elements are mingled with +it that might stir such feelings. It has no admixture, but is mere +beauty, sought for itself.</p> + +<p>Not only is Greek beauty different in quality from our own, but it is +more abundant. This surely would be the verdict of an impartial critic +who compared Homer, the lyrists, the tragedians, Plato, Theocritus, the +epigrammatists, with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> +corresponding names in modern literatures. It amounts to a different +way of viewing the world; the Greeks were more sensitive to beauty than +we are, just as some people are more sensitive than others to colours or +sounds, to moral or intellectual issues. This is curiously illustrated +in their treatment of tragic themes. There is no want of tragedy in +Homer or the dramatists—their view of life is probably darker than +our own—and they have been praised for a pessimism that faced and +admitted the black truth. Yet the cloud of evil is continually broken by +rays of beauty. Thus Homer lights up the tragic parting of Hector and +Andromache by the story of the child and the nodding plumes, yet does +not use the incident, as many writers would have used it, to heighten +the tragedy, which indeed it neither emphasizes nor diminishes: it is +merely a gratuitous touch of delight in children, as accidental and +natural as the brighter moments which, in life if not in realistic +novels, diversify the darkest hours. Thus too Aeschylus preludes the +bloody slaughter of Salamis with the white horses of the dawn, the +echoes in the cliffs, the foam whitening beneath the oars, and when he +speaks of the island where the Persians are butchered, does not forget +the dances in which Pan rejoiced there of old. Thus, again, one of the +most tragic moments in the <i>Hippolytus</i> is followed by the song,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As a bird among the bird-droves of God!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the deep Adriatic on the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the water of Eridanus is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Phaëthon’s sad sisters by his grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weep into the river, and each tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave.<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +The union of beauty and tragedy may be a paradox, but no reader can miss +its power. The mere story of Hector’s death as told by Homer is +poignant, even when read in an English translation: the magic of the +original language and metre doubles the effect. The combination of these +two apparently inconsistent things, which is one of the marks of Greek +poetry, is, of course, found in other literatures; the description of +Ophelia’s death in <i>Hamlet</i> is an instance of it. But no drama +except Greek has that regular interweaving of tragedy with exquisite +lyrics by which some of its most powerful effects are secured.</p> + +<p>Effect is the wrong word to use, for we have here no literary trick, but +a view of life, which is naturally complete and clearsighted, which is +sensitive to the beauty that no evil can destroy, which sees the +splendour in tragedy itself, and remembers that though the days of +darkness are many it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun. +This philosophy, implied throughout Greek literature, commends it to +many people. Those who disagree with the philosophy will not quarrel +with the beauty itself. Hellenism is one of the forces which are +continually being buried and re-found, and which, like talismans, have a +disturbing power when they fall afresh into human hands. Those who read +the literature of the age which rediscovered Greek will see that it +brought above all a sense of liberation and expansion. At the +Renaissance as in the eighteenth century, Greece found the world in +chains, and broke them and threw down the prison walls. The fetters of +the two epochs were different, but freedom was brought, at the +Renaissance partly, and in the age of Winckelmann entirely, by the +vision of beauty which Greece exhibited. Our own age has many chains and +knows well the burden of which Goethe spoke. It has multiplied ugliness +far faster than beauty, and its writers, prolific, interesting, and +thoughtful as they are, do not help it here. It may well find, as other +ages have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +found, in this quality of Greek literature a healing and liberating +power.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>English literature is surpassed by none, but its defects or dangers are +at points where Greek is strong. Greek simplicity recalls us to the +central interests of the human heart. Greek truthfulness is a challenge +to see the world as it is and shun the emptiness of mere music, the +falsities of rhetoric or sentiment, the incompleteness of writers who, +instead of seeing life as a whole, ignore or emphasize a part of it as +their own sympathies dictate. Greek beauty is a memorial of an aspect of +the universe to which ages of thought are often blind. Greek technique +is a lesson in ‘form’ and a reminder of its place in +literature.</p> + +<p>Nor is the study of Greek a danger to our national genius. Contact with +highly developed foreign models may warp or cramp a literature in its +infancy, but cannot harm it when full grown and robust. The native +character is then too firmly established to be corrupted, and it is pure +gain to have another standard for comparison, for detection of +weaknesses and their cure. A reference to English literature will +support this view and show that though the influence of Greek there has +often been great, it has not been distorting. Consider the English poets +who owe most to Greece—Milton, Gray, Shelley, Keats, Landor, Tennyson, +Matthew Arnold, Swinburne, Bridges. It would puzzle any critic to find a +common denominator between these men, or to trace back to Greece any +universal feature in their poetry, except perhaps perfection of form. +Technical perfection is not so serious or frequent a vice in English +writers, that it can be complained of, and even this common element +vanishes, if we add to the poets already quoted the Brownings, who +prized and understood Greek and the Greek spirit as well as any of them.</p> + +<p>At first sight it may seem strange that Shelley and Keats, Arnold and +Swinburne, who were not merely passionate admirers +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> +of Greece but drew their chief inspiration from her, should be so +different in style and matter. The explanation is simple. Some +influences are tyrannous; they impose themselves, they dominate, they +enslave. But there is a better and rarer type of influence, which +stimulates and inspires yet leaves the poet free to develop his own +genius with enlarged horizons and quickened sensibilities. Greek +influence on our writers has been of this kind; perhaps because its +literature is singularly free from the artifice and mannerism which lend +themselves to mimicry and seems like Nature with her many voices +speaking.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>R. W. Livingstone.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HISTORY" id="HISTORY"></a>HISTORY</h2> + +<h3>I<br /> +<i>The Relationship between Ancient Greek and Modern Western Civilization</i></h3> + +<p>Ancient Greek society perished at least as long ago as the seventh +century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> Many historians would date its death a good many centuries +earlier, and all would agree that even if there are symptoms that life +still lingered in the body down to this time, its mental and physical +energies had long failed, and that the change from lethargy to death was +hardly perceptible when it came. Thus even on the most cautious +reckoning, there is an interval of thirteen centuries between the close +of Greek history and our own times, and the great age of Greek +history—the time when Ancient Greek society was in its prime, when it +was shaping its own destiny and deflecting the destiny of its +neighbours—is separated from our generation by more than two thousand +years. What legacy has come down, through these great periods of time, +from Ancient Greek society to the contemporary world? Before trying to +answer this big question, let us consider a smaller one: What is the +legacy of Ancient Greek History to our own society? That portion of +contemporary humanity which inhabits Western Europe and America +constitutes a specific society, for which the most convenient name is +‘Western Civilization’, and this society has a relationship +with Ancient Greek society which other contemporary societies—for +instance, those of Islam, India, and China—have not. It is its child.</p> + +<p>This description of the relationship between Ancient Greece +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> +and the modern Western world may be something more than a metaphor, for +societies like individuals are living creatures, and may therefore be +expected to exhibit the same phenomena. At any rate the metaphor +illustrates the facts. To begin with, the histories of the two societies +overlap. The origins of modern Western society may be traced back a +century or two before the Christian era, when the lands and races of +Western Europe came into contact with the Levant, where Greek society +had grown up and was then in its maturity. The germ of Western society +first developed in the body of Greek society, like a child in the womb. +The Roman Empire was the period of pregnancy during which the new life +was sheltered and nurtured by the old. The ‘Dark Age’ was +the crisis of birth, in which the child broke away from its parent and +emerged as a separate, though naked and helpless, individual. The Middle +Ages were the period of childhood, in which the new creature, though +immature, found itself able to live and grow independently. The +fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, with their marked characteristics of +transition, may stand for puberty, and the centuries since the year 1500 +for our prime. The metaphor works out sufficiently well to throw light +on our particular problem: the legacy bequeathed to the Modern West by +Ancient Greece.</p> + +<p>Children ‘inherit’ from their parents in several senses of +the word. There are features and instincts physically transmitted from +the one to the other. There are imitations in early childhood of the +parent’s speech and gesture which are not perhaps strictly +predetermined by the relationship, but which are yet performed +subconsciously and are in fact so inevitable that the child is never +aware that it is exercising choice in the matter. And there is +deliberate and conscious imitation at a later stage when the child is +sufficiently mature to appreciate its parent’s character. These +several forms of ‘legacy’ from parent to child differ +primarily in the extent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> +to which the acceptance and use of them depends upon the child’s +own will, and it will probably be admitted that the legacies which are +the less certain to be transmitted are also the more important if the +transmission happens to take place. For example, a child’s life +and character are more affected by deliberate imitation of its parent at +a relatively advanced age than by the unchosen inheritance of some +particular colour of hair and eye or shape of chin or pitch of +temperament. On the other hand, while the inheritance of these latter +characteristics from one among a limited number of ancestral strains is +inevitable, the voluntary legacy may never be transmitted at all. The +child will not claim it unless he knows his parent and admires or +respects him. The parent’s premature death or removal or the lack +of sufficient sympathy between the parent and the child can in this case +inhibit the transmission, and the potential legacy, with its momentous +possibilities of influence upon the child’s career, will never in +fact be bequeathed.</p> + +<p>These considerations may guide us in an analysis of the legacy which we +have received from our parent society—the civilization of Ancient +Greece. First, has Ancient Greece transmitted to us anything comparable +to the physical and psychological legacy of an individual human parent +to her child? This is a difficult question for us to answer, just as it +is difficult for members of the same family to appreciate the +‘family likeness’ between them. A Moslem or Hindu or +Chinaman could judge better than we. But it is certainly possible that +the comparative similarity of climatic conditions and the comparative +unity of racial stock has created a closer relationship between these +two societies than between either one of them and any other. The poetry +and philosophy and social life and political institutions of Ancient +Greece and the Modern West may conceivably constitute a single species +when contrasted with the institutions of other civilizations. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> +A modern West European or American may have a greater innate +appreciation for Homer than for the Old Testament or for Sokrates than +for Buddha or Confucius. The parallel which historians so often draw, or +imply, between the conflict of Ancient Greece with the Ancient East and +that of the Modern West with the Modern East may rest on a real kinship +between the two Occidental civilizations as contrasted with their +respective Oriental neighbours. But this is uncertain and on the whole +unprofitable ground. When we come to the ‘subconsciously +chosen’ type of legacy, the analogy with the relationship between +parent and child becomes more evident.</p> + +<p>Legacies of this type from Ancient Greek society are prominent in the +Middle Ages—the childhood of modern Western civilization which followed +the ‘Dark Age’ crisis of birth. One of the first needs of +our young Western society as it struggled to its feet was a symbol of +its unity—something corresponding to the attainment of +self-consciousness by the individual human being—and for this it +borrowed the last constructive idea of the Ancient Greek world. The +mediaeval ‘Holy Roman Empire’ had quite a different purpose +and function, in the childhood of modern Western civilization, from the +purpose and function of the Roman Empire in the old age of Ancient +Greece. But the young civilization did not think of inventing a new +institution for its individual needs. In its subconscious pursuit of its +own development it conceived itself to be reviving one of the customs of +its venerable parent. The political thinkers of Charlemagne’s day +never imagined that the idea of world unity could be embodied in any +other form.</p> + +<p>Again, a century or so later, certain portions of Western society, +especially the populations of North and Central Italy and the Low +Countries, had outdistanced the rest in economic development and needed +institutions of local self-government to give their economic vitality +free play. In this case, again, Western civilization reverted to an +Ancient Greek institution<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> +and revived the ‘city-state’. A little later still, the +rapidly growing and differentiating body of Western civilization was +impelled towards territorial expansion, and sought it, like Ancient +Greece in a similar period, round the shores of the Mediterranean. This +mediaeval movement of expansion, which is commonly called the Crusades, +but which made itself felt in Spain and Sicily and the Aegean as well as +in the ‘Holy Land’, is a remarkable parallel to the +propagation of Ancient Greek city-states round the same shores between +about 750 and 600 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> In drifting back upon the +Mediterranean, the mediaeval West was searching for new realms to +conquer, but it was really captured by the romance of its ancestral +home.</p> + +<p>Here, then, are three prominent features in mediaeval Western +history—the Holy Roman Empire, the Flemish and Italian communes, and +the Crusades—which were legacies from Ancient Greek history in the +sense of being subconscious reversions to the habits of the parent +society. But have these mediaeval legacies from Ancient Greece been +really important constituents in our history viewed as a whole? Have +they not rather been false growths which led to little or nothing? The +Holy Roman Empire was never more than a mirage. The sense of unity in +the modern Western world is derived not from this but from a really +original institution, the early Papal Church, in which any legacy from +Ancient Greece would be hard to discern. The national states of modern +Europe and America are derived not from mediaeval Ghent or Bruges or +Florence or Venice but from the new, though clumsy, feudal communities +of mediaeval England and France. And the expansion of Western society +has not followed the direction indicated by the Crusades. The false +trail of the Mediterranean was practically abandoned after less than +three centuries’ trial. The true domain of modern Western +civilization has been found in regions which Ancient Greece hardly +explored: Northern Germany and Scandinavia and the British Isles, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +North Sea and the Baltic, the Atlantic and the continent of America. +Thus our mediaeval legacies from Ancient Greece—the subconscious +reversions of childhood—are historical curiosities rather than vital +links between the two civilizations. Our really important legacy from +Ancient Greece was adopted with full consciousness and deliberation when +we stood on the threshold of our own maturity.</p> + +<p>The legacy of this third type which we have received from Ancient Greece +has been given the general name of the Renaissance. It was a determined +and successful attempt, on the part of our society, to learn everything +that the literary and artistic remains of our great predecessor could +teach us. It lay within our choice to study these remains or to pass +them by, and the fact that we chose to study them has been one of the +greatest and the most fortunate decisions in the career of our +civilization. The several aspects of this acceptance of what Ancient +Greece had to offer have been treated already in the other chapters in +this volume. Here it is merely necessary to point out that the +Renaissance was a study and assimilation not only of Ancient Greek +literature and art, but of architecture, natural science, mathematics, +philosophy, political ideas, and all the other higher expressions of a +great society. The absorption of this vast current of life largely +accounts for the wonderful impetus which has revealed itself in Western +civilization during the last four centuries.</p> + +<p>Has the current now spent its force? Has the legacy adopted four +centuries ago been used up and exhausted? Under the inspiration of +Ancient Greece, has the modern West now created a literature, art, +architecture, science, mathematics, philosophy, and political thought +which equal or surpass the Ancient patterns and turn them from an +inspiration into an encumbrance? That seems to be the fundamental +question behind the controversy about the study of Ancient Greek life in +England to-day. Perhaps the answer may be found—if we +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +may go back to our metaphor—in the uniqueness of the individual +personality.</p> + +<p>If one considers the relations of a parent and child, or indeed of any +two human beings, it is evident that the one could never exhaust all +that could be learnt from the personality of the other. The one might +acquire every physical, mental, and moral attainment that the other +could display, and yet the other’s unique individuality would +remain—an inexhaustible subject of study, throwing perpetual new light +upon the life of the observer himself and of his fellow human beings. +This is true of any two human beings, but if the two happen to be people +of commanding character and genius it becomes a truism which it would be +almost ludicrous to question. Let us apply this to the study not of one +individual but of one society by another, and let us take the case in +point, in which the two societies happen to be great civilizations. The +study of a great civilization has a unique value, not merely for members +of another civilization which stands to it in the relation of child to +parent, but for every seeker after knowledge who has a civilization of +his own. This ultimate and most precious legacy of Ancient Greece is at +the disposal of Moslems, Hindus, and Chinese, as well as Westerners. For +receiving it there are two qualifications: a good understanding and an +open mind.</p> + +<h3>II<br /> +<i>Ancient Greek Civilization as a Work of Art</i></h3> + +<p>Civilizations are the greatest and the rarest achievements of human +society. Innumerable societies have been coming into being and perishing +during many hundreds of thousands of years, and hardly any of them have +created civilizations. One can count the civilizations on one’s +fingers. We have had perhaps three in Europe: the Minoan in the Aegean +Islands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> +(the dates 4000-1100 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> roughly cover its history); +the Greek or Graeco-Roman round the coasts of the Mediterranean (its +history extends between the eleventh century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +and the seventh century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>); and our modern +Western civilization round the coasts of the Atlantic, which began to +emerge from twilight in the eighth century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> +and is still in existence. Then there are the ancient civilizations of +Egypt and Lower Mesopotamia, which were first dominated by Ancient +Greece and then amalgamated into the single Middle Eastern civilization +of Islam; and there are the civilizations of India and China. Even if we +count as civilizations the societies existing in Mexico and Peru before +the Spanish Conquest, the total number of known independent +civilizations, compared with the total number of known human societies, +is very small. And it is so because the achievement is astonishingly +difficult. There are two constant factors in social life—the +spirit of man and its environment. Social life is the relation between +them, and life only rises to the height of civilization when the spirit +of man is the dominant partner in the relationship—when instead of +being moulded by the environment (as it is in the tropical forests of +Central Africa and Brazil), or simply holding its own against the +environment in a kind of equilibrium (as it does on the steppes of +Central Asia or Arabia, among the nomads), it moulds the environment to +its own purpose, or ‘expresses’ itself by +‘impressing’ itself upon the world. The study of a +civilization is not different in kind from the study of a literature. In +both cases one is studying a creation of the spirit of man, or, in more +familiar terms, a work of art.</p> + +<p>Civilization is a work of art—in the literal meaning of the phrase and +not merely by a metaphor. It is true that works of art are made by +individuals, civilization by a society. But what work of art is there in +which the individual artist owes nothing to others? And a civilization, +the work of countless individuals and many generations, differs in this +respect from a poem or a statue not in kind but only in degree. It is a +social<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> +work of art, expressed in social action, like a ritual or a +play. One cannot describe it better than by calling it a tragedy with a +plot, and history is the plot of the tragedy of civilization.</p> + +<p>Students of the drama, from Aristotle onwards, seem to agree that nearly +all the great tragedies in literature are expositions of quite a few +fundamental plots. And it is possible that the great tragedies of +history—that is, the great civilizations that have been created by the +spirit of man—may all reveal the same plot, if we analyse them rightly. +Each civilization—for instance, the civilization of Mediaeval and +Modern Europe and again that of Ancient Greece—is probably a variant of +a single theme. And to study the plot of civilization in a great +exposition of it—like the Hellenic exposition or our own Western +exposition—is surely the right goal of a humane education.</p> + +<p>But of course one asks: Why study Ancient Hellenic civilization rather +than ours? The study of any one civilization is so complex, it demands +so many preliminary and subordinate studies—linguistic, institutional, +economic, psychological—that it is likely to absorb all one’s +energies. The greatest historians have generally confined themselves to +the study of a single civilization, and the great Greek +historians—Herodotus, Thucydides, and Polybius—concentrated on their +own, and only studied others in so far as their own came into contact +with them. Clearly, people who are going to be historians, not for life, +but as an education for life, must make their choice. They must +practically confine themselves to studying one civilization if they are +to reap the fruits of study at all, and in this case it is natural to +ask: Why study Hellenism rather than our own history? There are two +obvious arguments in favour of studying modern history. It seems more +familiar and it seems more useful. And it would be a mistake to +misrepresent these arguments by stating them only in their cruder forms. +‘Familiar’ does not mean ‘easy’, and to say that +modern<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +history seems more useful than ancient does not mean that the +study of it is a closer approximation to a Pelman course. There is an +exceedingly crude view of education among some people just now—perhaps +it is largely due to the war, and may disappear like other ugly effects +of the war—which inclines to concentrate education on applied +chemistry, say, or engineering, with a vague idea that people whose +education has been devoted to these subjects will be more capable of +competing with foreigners in the dye industry or of working in munition +factories in the next emergency. In the same way, conceivably, +concentration on modern history might be supposed to equip a student for +securing concessions abroad for a firm, or for winning a parliamentary +election. Of course, this attitude, though it is rather widespread just +now, is absurd. The fallacy lies in confusing the general theoretical +knowledge of a subject acquired through being educated in it with the +technical knowledge and personal experience which one must have to turn +the same subject to practical account in after life. There is no +difference of opinion on this point between ‘humanists’ and +‘scientists’. The issue is between people who do not +appreciate the value of the pursuit of knowledge as an end in itself, +and those who do appreciate it and who therefore understand what +education means. True lovers of knowledge and true believers in +education will be found on the same side in this controversy, whether +the subject of their study happens to be the spirit of man or the laws +of its environment. But apart from that crude utilitarianism, which is +as unscientific as it is un-humane, a serious argument for studying +modern rather than ancient history can also be stated from the humane +and the scientific point of view. It may be argued that the direct +experience we have of our own civilization makes it possible for us to +have a deeper, and therefore a more humane and scientific, understanding +of it than we can ever have of Ancient Greece. And one might go on to +argue, on grounds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +of humanism alone, that such a comprehension of the character and +origins of our civilization would have a more profound humanizing +influence upon its development than a less intimate study of a different +civilization could produce. This argument is bound to appeal to the +generation which has experienced the war. The war is obviously one of +the great crises of our civilization. It is like a conflagration +lighting up the dim past and throwing it into perspective. The war makes +it impossible for us to take our own history for granted. We are bound +to inquire into the causes of such an astonishing catastrophe, and as +soon as we do that we find ourselves inquiring into the evolution of +Western Civilization since it emerged from the Dark Age. The shock of +the Peloponnesian War gave just the same intellectual stimulus to +Thucydides, and made him preface his history of that war with a critical +analysis, brief but unsurpassed, of the origins of Hellenic +civilization—the famous introductory chapters of Book I. May not +these chapters point the road for us and counsel us to concentrate upon +the study of our own history?</p> + +<p>This question deserves very serious consideration, not merely from the +utilitarian, but from the scientific and humane point of view. But the +answer is not a foregone conclusion. There is a case for studying the +civilization of Ancient Greece which can be summed up in four points, as +follows:</p> + +<p>(i) In Greek history the plot of civilization has been worked out to its +conclusion. We can sit as spectators through the whole play; we can say: +‘This or that is the crisis; from this point onwards the end is +inevitable; or if this actor had acted otherwise in those circumstances +the issue would not nave been the same.’ We can grasp the +structure of the tragedy and divide it into acts. But in our own history +we are like players in the middle of the piece, and though we may be +able to say ‘This is the third act or the fourth act’, we +cannot say ‘This is the last act or the last but one’. We +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +cannot foretell the future; the work of art we are studying is +incomplete, and therefore we cannot possibly apprehend it as an artistic +whole, however vivid may be our experience of isolated scenes and +situations. The first point in favour of Greek history is its +completeness and its true perspective from our point of view.</p> + +<p>(ii) The second is that the historical experience of the Greeks has been +more finely expressed than ours. Its expression is in all Greek art and +literature—for it is a great mistake to suppose that historical +experience is expressed in so-called historical records alone. The great +poets of Greece are of as much assistance in understanding the mental +history of Greece (which is after all the essential element in any +history) as the philosophers and historians. And Greek historical +experience or mental history is better expressed in Greek literature +than ours is in the literature of modern Europe. Without attempting to +compare the two literatures as literatures it can be said with some +confidence that the surviving masterpieces of Greek literature give a +better insight into the subjective side of Greek history—into the +emotions and speculations which arose out of the vicissitudes of Greek +society and were its most splendid creations—than any insight into the +subjective side of modern history which we can obtain by studying it +through modern literature.</p> + +<p>(iii) The third point is expressed in the concluding phrase of +Aristotle’s definition of tragedy (<i>Poetics</i>, vi. 2). +‘Tragedy’, he says, ‘is an imitation of an action that +is serious, complete, and of a certain magnitude ... through pity and +fear effecting the proper <span class='t' title='katharsis'>καθαρσις</span> +or purgation, of these emotions.’ (Butcher’s translation.) +This word <span class='t' title='katharsis'>καθαρσις</span>—purgation, +purification, cleansing, discharge—has been the subject of +interminable controversy among scholars, but any one acquainted with +Ancient Greek literature who has lived through the war will understand +what it means. Certainly the writer found, in the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +worst moments of the war, that passages from the classics—some +line of Aeschylus or Lucretius or Virgil, or the sense of some speech in +Thucydides, or the impression of some mood of bitterness or serenity in +a dialogue of Plato—would come into his mind and give him relief. +These men had travelled along the road on which our feet were set; they +had travelled it farther than we, travelled it to the end; and the +wisdom of greater experience and the poignancy of greater suffering than +ours was expressed in the beauty of their words. In the writer’s +personal experience that relief was obtained from acquaintance with +Greek civilization as expressed in Greek literature. It put one in +communication with a different civilization from our own—with +people who had experienced all and more than we had experienced, and who +were now at peace beyond the world of time and change. +<span class='t' title='Katharsis'>Καθαρσις</span>, then, +is the emotional value which is peculiar to the study of a different +civilization, and which one cannot get, at any rate with the same +intensity, by the study of his own.</p> + +<p>(iv) This emotional value has its intellectual counterpart in the +comparative method of study, which one gets by studying, not his own +circumstances, but circumstances comparable to, without being identical +with, his own. This is a commonplace in the field of language. The study +of Ancient Greek is generally admitted to have more educative value for +an Englishman than the study of modern French or German, because Greek +and English embody the fundamental principles of human language in +entirely independent forms of expression, while French and English, in +addition to the elements common to all language, share the special +background of the Bible and the Classics, which have given them an +extensive common stock of phraseology and imagery. This applies equally +to the study of civilization. One learns more by studying Ancient Greek +religion and comparing it with Christianity than by studying +Christianity in ignorance of other religious phenomena; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +and one learns more about institutions by studying the Greek city-state +and comparing it with the modern national state than by merely studying +the evolution of the national state in modern Europe. If we take utility +to mean intellectual and not practical utility—and as humanists +and scientists we do—we may claim without paradox that the study +of Greek civilization is valuable just because it is not our own.</p> + +<p>These, then, are four points in favour of Greek history: we possess the +whole tragedy, it is a magnificent expression of the plot, and it has a +peculiar emotional value and a peculiar intellectual value which the +drama in which we ourselves are actors cannot have for us.</p> + +<p>At this point it is necessary to give a sketch of the plot of Greek +history—every one must make his own sketch; the writer offers his to +provoke the reader to make his own—and then to illustrate the second +point, the beauty of the expression, by quoting half a dozen passages +from ancient authors. The other two points—the cathartic and the +comparative value of Greek history—are matters of personal experience. +I have little doubt that the reader will experience them himself if he +takes up this study seriously and from a broad point of view.</p> + +<h3>III<br /> +<i>The Plot of Ancient Greek Civilization</i></h3> + +<p>The genesis of Ancient Greek civilization is certainly later than the +twelfth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, when Minoan civilization, its predecessor, was +still in process of dissolution; and the termination of Ancient Greek +civilization must certainly be placed before the eighth century <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>, +when modern Western civilization, its successor, had already come into +being. Between these extreme points we cannot exactly date its beginning +and end, but we can see that it covers a period of seventeen or eighteen +centuries.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is easier to divide the tragedy into acts. We can at once discern two +dramatic crises—the outbreak of the Peloponnesian War and the +foundation of the Roman Empire. We can for convenience take precise +dates—431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> and 31 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>—and group the action into three acts or +phases, one before, one between, and one after these critical moments.</p> + +<p>It is best to give the analysis in tabular form:</p> + +<p class="noin"><i>Act I</i> (11th cent.-431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>).</p> + +<ol><li>Synoikismos (formation of the city-state, the cell of Greek +society), 11th cent.-750 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>Colonization (propagation of the city-state round the +Mediterranean), 750-600 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>Economic revolution (change from extensive to intensive +growth), 600-500 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>Confederation (repulse of Oriental universal empire and +creation of an inter-state federation, the Delian League), +500-431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li></ol> + +<p class="noin"><i>Act II</i> (431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>-31 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>).</p> + +<ol><li>The Greek wars (failure of inter-state federation), 431-355 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>The Oriental wars (the superman, conquest of the East, +struggle for the spoils, barbarian invasion), 355-272 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>The first rally (change of scale and fresh experiments in +federation—Seleucid Asia, Roman Italy, Aetolian and +Achaean ‘United States’), 272-218 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>The Roman wars (destruction of four great powers by one; +devastation of the Mediterranean world), 218-146 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li> + +<li>The class wars (capitalism, bolshevism, Napoleonism), +146-31 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span></li></ol> + +<p class="noin"><i>Act III</i> (31 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>-7th cent. +<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span>).</p> + +<ol><li>The second rally (final experiment in federation—compromise +between city-state autonomy and capitalistic +centralization), 31 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>-<span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> +180.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></li> + +<li>The first dissolution (external front broken by tribesmen, +internal by Christianity), <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 180-284.</li> + +<li>The final rally (Constantine <span class='t' title='ton dêmon prosetairizetai'>τον +δημον προσεταιριζεται</span>—tribesmen on to the land, bishops into the +bureaucracy), <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> 284-378.</li> + +<li>The final dissolution (break of tradition), <span class='lc sc'>A. D.</span> +378-7th cent.</li></ol> + +<p>This analysis is and must be subjective. Every one has to make his own, +just as every one has to apprehend for himself the form of a work of +art. But however the historian may analyse the plot and group it into +acts, it must be borne in mind that the action is continuous, and that +the first emergence of the Greek city-state in the Aegean and the last +traces of municipal self-government in the Roman Empire are phases in +the history of a single civilization. It may seem a paradox to call this +civilization a unity. But the study of Greek and Latin literature leaves +no doubt in one’s mind that the difference of language there is +less significant than the unity of form, and that one is really dealing +with a single literature, the Hellenic, which in many of its branches +was imitated and propagated in the Latin language, just as it was to a +lesser extent in Hebrew, or later on in Syriac and Arabic. The unity is +even more apparent when, instead of confining our attention to +literature, we regard the whole field of civilization. It is not really +possible to draw a distinction between Greek history and Roman history. +At most one can say that at some point Greek history enters on a phase +which it may be convenient to distinguish verbally by connecting it with +the name of Rome. To take the case of the Roman Empire—the reader may +possibly have been surprised to find the Roman Empire treated as the +third act in the tragedy of Greece; yet when one studies the Empire one +finds that it was essentially a Greek institution. Institutionally it +was at bottom a federation of city-states, a solution of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +political problem with which Greek society had been wrestling since the +fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> And even the non-municipal +element, the centralized bureaucratic organization which Augustus spread +like a fine, almost impalpable net to hold his federation of +municipalities together, was largely a fruit of Greek administrative +experience. As papyrology reveals the administrative system of the +Ptolemaic Dynasty—the Greek successors of Alexander who preceded +the Caesars in the government of Egypt—we are learning that even +those institutions of the Empire which have been regarded as most +un-Greek may have been borrowed through a Greek intermediary. Imperial +jurisprudence, again, interpreted Roman municipal law into the law of a +civilization by reading into it the principles of Greek moral +philosophy. And Greek, not Latin, was still the language in which most +of the greatest literature of the Imperial period was written. One need +only mention works which are still widely read and which have influenced +our own civilization—Plutarch’s <i>Lives</i>, Marcus +Aurelius’ <i>Meditations</i>, and the New Testament. They are all +written in Greek, and who will venture to assert that the age in which +they were written falls outside Greek history, or that the social +experience which produced them was not an act in the tragedy of Hellenic +civilization? Even statistically the Empire was more Greek than anything +else. Probably a considerable majority of its inhabitants spoke Greek as +a lingua franca, if not as their mother-tongue. Nearly all the great +industrial and commercial centres were in the Greek or Hellenized +provinces. Possibly, during the first two centuries of the Empire, more +Greek was spoken than Latin by the proletariat of Rome itself. The Greek +core of the Roman Empire played the part of Western Europe in the modern +world. The Latinized provinces were thinly populated, backward, and only +superficially initiated into the fraternity of civilization. Latinized +Spain and Africa were the South America, Latinized Gaul and Britain the +Russia of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +the Ancient Greek world. The pulse of the Empire was driven by a Greek +heart, and it beat comparatively feebly in the non-Greek extremities.</p> + +<h3>IV<br /> +<i>The Literary Expression of the Plot</i></h3> + +<p>And now, after having suggested a reading of the plot, it is time to let +the actors speak for themselves. There is only space to quote half a +dozen passages, but they have been chosen to illustrate the critical +scenes and situations in the drama as it has been sketched out, and they +may persuade the reader that there is something to be said for the +present interpretation.</p> + +<p>We shall not dwell on the period I have called the first act—that is, +the period before 431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> But the reader is +recommended, again, not to lay aside the Greek poets when he takes up +the Greek historians. Homer will reveal more of the opening scenes than +Herodotus; and the exaltation of spirit produced by the repulse of the +Persians, and expressed institutionally in the foundation of the Delian +League, can hardly be realized emotionally without the poetry of +Aeschylus. But the philosophers and scientists are indispensable too. +Professor Burnet’s <i>Early Greek Philosophy</i>, or his <i>Greek +Philosophy from Thales to Plato</i>, throws light on history and not merely +on the Greek theory of knowledge. And the reader should make +acquaintance with the little work on ‘Atmospheres, Waters, and +Localities’ emanating from the Hippokratean school of medicine. It +is only thirty-eight pages in the Teubner text (Hippocratis <i>Opera</i>, +vol. i), and it gives clearer expression than Herodotus to the +fifth-century scientific point of view. Here is one passage which might +have been written in Victorian England. The writer is describing a +peculiar disease prevalent among the nomads of southern Russia. +‘The natives’, he remarks, ‘believe that this disease +is sent by God, and they reverence and worship its victims, in fear of +being stricken by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +it themselves. I too am quite ready to admit that these phenomena are +caused by God, but I take the same view about all phenomena and hold +that no single phenomenon is more or less divine in origin than any +other. All are uniform and all may be divine, but each phenomenon obeys +a law, and natural law knows no exceptions.’</p> + +<p>It is hard to leave this first act of the tragedy. It is a triumph of +youth, and the phrase in which Herodotus sums up the early history of +Sparta expresses the prevailing spirit of early Hellenic civilization. +<span class='t' title='Ana te edramon kai euthenêthêsan'>Ανα τε εδραμον +και ευθενηθησαν</span>: ‘They shot up and throve.’ But there is +another phrase in Herodotus which announces the second act—an +ominous phrase which came so natural to him that one may notice about a +dozen instances of it in his history. <span class='t' title='Edei gar tô +deini genesthai kakôs'>Εδει γαρ τω δεινι γενεσθαι κακως</span>: ‘Evil had +to befall so-and-so, and therefore’—the story of a +catastrophe follows in each case. The thought behind the phrase is +expressed in Solon’s words to Croesus (Herodotus, Bk. I, ch. 32): +‘Croesus, I know that God is ever envious and disordering’ +(<span class='t' title='tarachôdes'>ταραχωδες</span>), ‘and you +ask me about the destiny of man!’</p> + +<p>Note the epithet translated ‘disordering’; we shall meet the +word <span class='t' title='tarachê'>ταραχη</span> again. It is the bitter +phrase of a man who lived on from the great age into the war, but not so +bitter as the truth which the writer could not bring himself wholly to +express. ‘No single phenomenon’, as contemporary Greek +science realized, ‘is more or less divine than any other’, +and the ‘envious and disordering’ power, which wrecked Greek +civilization, was not an external force, but the very spirit of man by +which that civilization had been created. There is a puzzling line in +Homer which is applied once or twice to features in a +landscape—for instance, to a river: ‘The gods call it +Xanthos, mankind Skamandros.’ So we might say of the downfall of +Greece: the Greeks attributed it to the malignity of God, but the divine +oracles gave a different answer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> +Why did the Confederacy of Delos break down and Greece lose her youth in +a ruinous war? Because of the evil in the hearts of men—the envy +aroused by the political and commercial greatness of Athens in the +governing classes of Sparta and Corinth; and the covetousness aroused by +sudden greatness in the Athenians, tempting their statesmen to degrade +the presidency of a free confederacy into a dominion of Athens over +Greece, and tempting the Athenian proletariat, and the proletariat in +the confederate states, to misuse democracy for the exploitation of the +rich by the poor. Envy and covetousness begat injustice, and injustice +disloyalty. The city-states, in their rivalry for dominion or their +resentment against the domineering of one state over another, forgot +their loyalty to the common weal of Greece and fought each other for +empire or liberty. And the wealthy and well-born citizens forgot their +loyalty to the city in their blind, rancorous feud against the +proletariat that was stripping them of property and power, and betrayed +their community to foreign enemies.</p> + +<p>‘Strange how mortals blame the gods. They say that evil is our +handiwork, when in truth they bring their sufferings on themselves. By +their own folly they force the hand of fate. See, now, how Aigisthos +forced it in taking the wedded wife of Atreides and slaying her lord +when he returned, yet he had sheer destruction before his eyes, for we +ourselves had forewarned him not to slay the king nor wed his wife, or +vengeance would come by Atreides’ son Orestes, whene’er he +should grow to manhood and long for his home. So spake our messenger, +but with all his wisdom he did not soften the heart of Aigisthos, and +now he has paid in full’ (<i>Odyssey, a 32-43</i>).</p> + +<p>These lines from the first canto of the <i>Odyssey</i> were imagined by a +generation which could still afford to err, but as Greece approached her +hour of destiny, her prophetic inspiration grew clearer. The poets of +the sixth century were haunted more insistently than the Homeridai by +the possibilities of disaster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> +inherent in success of every kind—in personal prosperity, in +military victory, and in the social triumph of civilization. They traced +the mischief to an aberration of the human spirit under the shock of +sudden, unexpected attainment, and they realized that both the +accumulated achievement of generations and the greater promise of the +future might be lost irretrievably by failure at this critical moment. +‘Surfeit (<span class='t' title='koros'>κορος</span>) breeds sin +<span class='t' title='hubris'>ὑβρις</span> when prosperity visits +unbalanced minds.’ In slightly different words, the proverb recurs +in the collections of verses attributed to Theognis and to Solon. Its +maker refrained from adding what was in his and his hearers’ +thoughts, that <span class='t' title='hubris'>ὑβρις</span>, once engendered, +breeds <span class='t' title='aiê'>αιη</span>—the complete and +certain destruction into which the sinner walks with unseeing eyes. But +the whole moral mystery, to its remorseless end, was uttered again and +again in passionate words by Aeschylus, who consciously discarded the +primitive magical determinism in which Herodotus afterwards vainly +sought relief.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Φιλει δε τικτειν ὑβρις<br /></span> +<span class="i0">μεν παλαια νεα—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ζουσαν εν κακοις βροτων<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ὑβρις τοτ’ η τóθ’, ὁτε το κυριον μολη<br /></span> +<span class="i0">φαος τοκου,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">δαιμονα τ’ εταν, αμαχον, απολεμον,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ανιερον θρασος, μελαι—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">νας μελαθροισιν Ατας,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ειδομενας τοκευσιν.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{Philei de tiktein hubris<br /></span> +<span class="i0">men palaia nea—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">zousan en kakois brotôn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hubris tot’ ê tóth’, hote to kyrion molê<br /></span> +<span class="i0">phaos tokou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">daimona t’ etan, amachon, apolemon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">anieron thrasos, melai—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nas melathroisin Atas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">eidomenas tokeusin.}<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Old Sin loves, when comes the hour again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To bring forth New,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which laugheth lusty amid the tears of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, and Unruth, his comrade, wherewith none<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May plead nor strive, which dareth on and on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knowing not fear nor any holy thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two fires of darkness in a house, born true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like to their ancient spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Agamemnon</i>, vv. 763-71, Murray’s transl.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> +The poet of the crowning victory over Persia was filled with awe, as +well as exultation, at the possibilities for good or evil which his +triumphant generation held in their hands. Were they true metal or base? +The times would test them, but he had no doubt about the inexorable law.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ου γαρ εστιν επαλξις<br /></span> +<span class="i2">πλουτου προς κορον ανδρι<br /></span> +<span class="i0">λακτισαντι μεγαν δικης<br /></span> +<span class="i2">βωμον εις αφανειαν.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">{Ou gar estin epalxis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">ploutou pros koron andri<br /></span> +<span class="i0">laktisanti megan dikês<br /></span> +<span class="i2">bômon eis aphaneian.}<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never shall state nor gold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shelter his heart from aching<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whoso the Altar of Justice old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spurneth to night unwaking.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">(<i>Agamemnon</i>, vv. 381-4, Murray’s transl.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The <i>Agamemnon</i> was written when Athens stood at the height of her glory +and her power, and before her sons, following the devices of their +hearts, ‘like a boy chasing a wingèd bird’, had set a fatal +stumbling-block in the way of their city, or smirched her with an +intolerable stain. The generation of Marathon foreboded the catastrophe +of the Peloponnesian War, yet the shock, when it came, was beyond their +powers of imagination, and the effect of it on the mind of Greece was +first expressed by the generation which was smitten by the war in early +manhood. This is how it was felt by Thucydides (iii. 82):</p> + +<p>‘So the class-war at Korkyra grew more and more savage, and it +made a particular impression because it was the first outbreak of an +upheaval that spread in time through almost the whole of Greek society. +In every state there were conflicts of class, and the leaders of the +respective parties now procured the intervention of the Athenians or the +Lakedaimonians on their side. In peace-time they would have had neither +the opportunity nor the inclination to call in the foreigner, but now +there was the war, and it was easy for any party of violence +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> +to get their opponents crushed and themselves into power by an alliance +with one of the belligerents. This recrudescence of class-war brought +one calamity after another upon the states of Greece—calamities +that occur and will continue to occur as long as human nature remains +what it is, however they may be modified or occasionally mitigated by +changes of circumstance. Under the favourable conditions of peace-time, +communities and individuals do not have their hands forced by the logic +of events, and can therefore act up to a higher standard. But war strips +away all the margins of ordinary life and breaks in character to +circumstance by its brutal training. So the states were torn by the +class-war, and the sensation made by each outbreak had a sinister effect +on the next—in fact, there was something like a competition in +perfecting the fine art of conspiracies and atrocities....</p> + +<p>(iii. 83) ‘Thus the class-war plunged Greek society into every +kind of moral evil, and honesty, which is the chief constituent of +idealism, was laughed out of existence in the prevailing atmosphere of +hostility and suspicion. No argument was cogent enough and no pledge +solemn enough to reconcile opponents. The only argument that appealed to +the party momentarily in power was the unlikelihood of their remaining +there long and the consequent advisability of taking no risks with their +enemies. And the stupider the combatants, the greater their chances of +survival, just because they were terrified at their deficiencies, +expected to be outwitted and outmanœuvred, and therefore plunged +recklessly into action, while their superiors in intellect, who trusted +to their wits to protect them and disdained practical precautions, were +often caught defenceless and brought to destruction.’</p> + +<p>There is the effect of the great Greek war upon the first generation. +Thucydides, of course, had a sensitive and emotional temperament. He is +always controlling himself and reining himself in. But one is struck by +an outburst of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +same feeling in a younger man, Xenophon, who was ordinarily in harmony +with his age and was probably rather unimaginative and self-complacent +by nature. The war had given Xenophon his opportunity as a soldier and a +writer. He was not inclined to quarrel with the ‘envious and +disordering’ powers that had ruined Greek civilization. But in the +last paragraph of the History of his Own Times he is carried away, for +he has just been describing the battle of Mantinea (362 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), in which he had lost his son.</p> + +<p>‘The result of the battle’, he writes, ‘disappointed +every one’s expectations. Almost the whole of Greece had mobilized +on one side or the other, and it was taken for granted that if it came +to an action, the victors would be able to do what they liked and the +vanquished would be at their mercy. But Providence so disposed it that +both sides ... claimed the victory and yet neither had gained a foot of +territory, a single city or a particle of power beyond what they had +possessed before the battle. On the contrary, there was more +unsettlement and disorder (<span class='t' title='tarachê'>ταραχη</span>) +in Greece after the battle than before it. But I do not propose to carry +my narrative further and will leave the sequel to any other historian +who cares to record it.’ (<i>Hellenica</i>, vii. 5 fin.)</p> + +<p>Space forbids quotation from Plato, but the reader is recommended, while +studying his metaphysics for his philosophy, to note his moods and +emotions for the light they throw upon the history of his lifetime. +Plato’s long life—427 to 347 <span class='lc sc'>B. +C.</span>—practically coincided with the first phase of the second act of +the tragedy—the series of wars that began in 431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, +and that had reduced the Greek city-states to complete disunion and +exhaustion by 355. Plato belonged to the cultured governing class which +was hit hardest by these first disasters. At the age of twenty-nine, +after witnessing the downfall of Athens, he had to witness the judicial +murder of Sokrates—the greatest man of the older generation, who +had been appreciated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +and loved by Plato and his friends. Plato’s own most promising +pupil, whom he had marked out for his successor, was killed in action in +a particularly aimless recrudescence of the war. Plato’s political +disillusionment and perversity are easy to understand. But it is curious +and interesting to watch the clash between his political bitterness and +his intellectual serenity. In the intellectual and artistic +sphere—as a writer, musician, mathematician, +metaphysician—he stood consciously at the zenith of Greek history; +but whenever he turned to politics he seems to have felt that the spring +had gone out of the year. He instinctively antedated the setting of his +dialogues. The characters nearly all belong to the generation of +Sokrates, which had grown to manhood before the war and whose memories +conjured up the glory that the war had extinguished. Note, also, his +‘other-worldliness’, for it is a feature that comes into +Greek civilization with him and gradually permeates it. He turns from +science to theology, from the world of time and change to the world of +archetypes or ideas. He turns from the social religion of the city-state +to a personal religion for which he takes symbols from primitive +mythology. He turns from politics to utopias. But Plato only lived to +see the first phase of the catastrophe. As we watch the remainder of +this second act—those four terrible centuries that followed the +year 431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>—there come tidings of +calamity after calamity, like the messages of disaster in the Book of +Job, and as the world crumbles, people tend more and more to lay up +their treasure elsewhere. In the <i>Laws</i>, Plato places his utopia no +farther away than Crete. Two centuries later the followers of +Aristonikos the Bolshevik, outlawed by the cities of Greece and Asia, +proclaim themselves citizens of the City of the Sun. Two centuries later +still, the followers of Jesus of Nazareth, despairing of this world, +pray for its destruction by fire to make way for the Kingdom of Heaven.</p> + +<p>Plato’s state of mind gives the atmosphere of the first phase +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +after the catastrophe. For the second phase—the conquest of the East +and the struggle for the spoils—the reader may be referred to Mr. Edwyn +Bevan’s <i>Lectures on the Stoics and Sceptics</i> and to Professor +Gilbert Murray’s Conway Memorial lecture on <i>The Stoic +Philosophy</i>. They will show him a system of philosophy which is no +longer a pure product of speculation but is primarily a moral shelter +erected hastily to meet the storms of life. The third phase—the rally +of civilization in the middle of the third century <span class='lc sc'>B. +C.</span>—is mirrored in Plutarch’s lives of the Spartan kings Agis +and Kleomenes. Any one who reads them will feel the gallantry of this +rally and the pathos of its failure. And then comes the fourth +phase—the Roman wars against the other great powers of the +Mediterranean world. The Hannibalic war in Italy was, very probably, the +most terrible war that there has ever been, not excepting the recent war +in Europe. The horror of that war haunted later generations, and its +mere memory made oblivion seem a desirable release from an intolerable +world.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nil igitur mors est ad nos neque pertinet hilum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">et velut anteacto nil tempore sensimus aegri,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ad confligendum venientibus undique Poenis,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu<br /></span> +<span class="i0">horrida contremuere sub altis aetheris oris,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">in dubioque fuere utrorum ad regna cadendum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">omnibus humanis esset terraque marique,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">sic, ubi non erimus, cum corporis atque animai<br /></span> +<span class="i0">discidium fuerit quibus e sumus uniter apti,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">scilicet haud nobis quicquam, qui non erimus tum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">accidere omnino poterit sensumque movere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">non si terra mari miscebitur et mare caelo.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin">That is a passage of Lucretius (iii. 830-842) which follows upon an +elaborate argument to prove that death destroys personality and that the +soul is not immortal. Here is an attempt at a translation:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +‘So death is nothing to us and matters nothing to us, since we +have proved that the soul is not immortal. And as in time past we felt +no ill, when the Phoenicians were pouring in to battle on every front, +when the world rocked with the shock and tumult of war and shivered from +centre to firmament, when all mankind on sea and land must fall under +the victor’s empire and victory was in doubt—so, when we have +ceased to be, when body and soul, whose union is our being, have been +parted, then nothing can touch us—we shall not be—and nothing can make +us feel, no, not if earth is confounded with sea and sea with +heaven.’</p> + +<p>Lucretius wrote that about a hundred and fifty years after Hannibal +evacuated Italy, but the horror is still vivid in his mind, and his +poetry arouses it in our minds as we listen. The writer will never +forget how those lines kept running in his head during the spring of +1918.</p> + +<p>But the victors suffered with the vanquished in the common ruin of +civilization. The whole Mediterranean world, and the devastated area in +Italy most of all, was shaken by the economic and social revolutions +which the Roman wars brought in their train. The proletariat was +oppressed to such a degree that the unity of society was permanently +destroyed and Greek civilization, after being threatened with a violent +extinction by Bolshevik outbreaks—the slave wars in Sicily, the +insurrection of Aristonikos and the massacres of Mithradates in +Anatolia, the outbreaks of Spartakos and Catilina in Italy—was +eventually supplanted by a rival civilization of the proletariat—the +Christian Church. The revolutionary last phase in the second act—the +final phase before the foundation of the Empire—has left its expression +in the cry of the Son of Man: ‘The foxes have holes and the birds +of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his +head.’ It was one of those anonymous phrases that are in all +men’s mouths because they express what is in all men’s +hearts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> +Tiberius Gracchus used it in his public speeches at Rome; two +centuries later it reappears in the discourses of Jesus of Nazareth.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ergo inter sese paribus concurrere telis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romanas acies iterum videre Philippi,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">nec fuit indignum superis bis sanguine nostro<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emathiam et latos Haemi pinguescere campos....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Di patrii, Indigetes, et Romule, Vestaque mater<br /></span> +<span class="i0">quae Tuscum Tiberim et Romana Palatia servas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">hunc saltem everso iuvenem succurrere saeclo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ne prohibete. satis iam pridem sanguine nostro<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laomedonteae luimus periuria Troiae....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">vicinae ruptis inter se legibus urbes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">arma ferunt; saevit toto Mars impius orbe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">ut cum carceribus sese effudere quadrigae,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">addunt in spatio, et frustra retinacula tendens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">fertur equis auriga neque audit currus habenas.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">(<i>Georgics</i>, i. 489 seqq.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>‘Therefore Philippi saw Roman armies turn their swords against +each other a second time in battle, and the gods felt no pity that +Emathia and the broad plains of Haemus should twice be fattened with our +blood....</p> + +<p>‘Gods of our fathers, gods of our country, god of our city, +goddess of our hearths who watchest over Tuscan Tiber and Roman +Palatine, forbid not this last saviour to succour our fallen generation. +Our blood has flowed too long. We have paid in full for the sins of our +forefathers—the broken faith of ancient Troy....</p> + +<p>‘The bonds are broken between neighbour cities and they meet in +arms. Ungodly war rages the world over. The chariots launched on the +race gather speed as they go; vainly dragging on the reins the driver is +swept away by his steeds and the team heeds not the bridle.’</p> + +<p>It is a prayer for the lifting of the curse, and this time the +‘envious and disordering’ powers gave ear. The charioteer +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> +regained control, and we are carried on to the third act of the tragedy, +in which no small part of its beauty and a very great part of its +significance is to be found. The imperial peace could not save the body +of Greek civilization—the four centuries of war had inflicted mortal +wounds; but possibly it saved its soul. Although Augustus had not the +abilities of Caesar, he felt and pitied the sorrows of the world, and he +succeeded in expressing the pity and repentance, the ruthfulness for and +piety towards the past, which were astir in the spirits of his +generation. But what phrase is adequate to characterize the Empire? The +words ‘Decline and Fall’ suggest themselves, but how should +they be applied? Gibbon took the second century of the Empire, the age +of the Antonines, as the Golden Age of the Ancient World, and traced the +decline and fall of the Empire from the death of Marcus Aurelius. On the +other hand, if the present reading of the plot is right, the fatal +catastrophe occurred six centuries earlier, in the year 431 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, +and the Empire itself was the decline and fall of Greek civilization. +But was it only that? One is apt to think so when one reads the diary of +Marcus Aurelius, and pictures him in his quarters at Carnuntum, fighting +finely but hopelessly on two fronts—against the barbarians on the +Danube and the sadness in his own soul.</p> + +<p>‘Human life! Its duration is momentary, its substance in perpetual +flux, its senses dim, its physical organism perishable, its +consciousness a vortex, its destiny dark, its repute uncertain—in fact, +the material element is a rolling stream, the spiritual element dreams +and vapour, life a war and a sojourning in a far country, fame oblivion. +What can see us through? One thing and one only—philosophy, and that +means keeping the spirit within us unspoiled and undishonoured, not +giving way to pleasure or pain, never acting unthinkingly or deceitfully +or insincerely, and never being dependent on the moral support of +others. It also means taking what comes contentedly as all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> +part of the process to which we owe our own being; and, above all, it +means facing death calmly—taking it simply as a dissolution of the +atoms of which every living organism is composed. Their perpetual +transformation does not hurt the atoms, so why should one mind the whole +organism being transformed and dissolved? It is a law of nature, and +natural law can never be wrong.’ (<span class='t' title='Márkos +Antôninos eis eautón'>Μáρκος Αντωνινος εις εαυτóν</span>, ii fin.)</p> + +<p>But after quoting Marcus Aurelius, the first citizen of the Empire, it +is necessary to add a quotation from Paul of Tarsos, a citizen who has +as good a claim as any other to be heard:</p> + +<p>‘“How are the dead raised up? With what body do they +come?” Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quickened, except +it die.... It is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is +sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is +raised in power.’ ...</p> + +<p>It startles us to be reminded that these two actors appeared on the +stage in the same act of the drama, and that Paul actually played his +part a century before Marcus played his. Paul’s voice suggests not +only a younger generation but quite a different play. His thought in the +lines just quoted is inspired by a predecessor whom Marcus regarded as +one of the innumerable prophets of the proletariat. ‘Except a corn +of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die, +it bringeth forth much fruit.’ The saying was included in the +miscellaneous traditions about Jesus of Nazareth which were passing from +mouth to mouth among the illiterate masses, but which had not begun to +excite the curiosity of the educated classes in Marcus’s day. What +would the scholar have made of it if a collection of these traditions +had fallen under his eye, scrawled on bad paper in barbarous Greek? +Little enough, for he would have missed the whole background of his own +sentiment and thought, which was nothing less than the background of +Greek civilization. Great literary memories crowd +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> +the brief passage of his diary quoted above—Epiktetos and +Lucretius and the Stoa, Plato and Sokrates, Demokritos and the +Hippokratean school of medicine from which we took our first quotation, +and simpler minds and more primitive artists in the dim generations +behind. We are carried right back through the tragedy at which we have +been looking on. The two men are worlds apart, in spite of the fact that +their propositions, when we strip them naked, are much the same. +‘The organism is transformed and +dissolved.’—‘That which thou sowest is not quickened +except it die.’ They are both representing death as a phase in the +process of nature, but it is not till we grasp the similarity of the +thought that we fully realize the difference in the outlook and the +emotion.</p> + +<p>Under the smooth surface of the Empire there was a great gulf fixed +between the ‘bourgeois’ society of the city-states and the +descendants of the slaves imported during the Roman Wars; but the +Empire, by gradually alleviating the material condition of the +proletariat, insensibly affected their point of view. The development of +their religion—the one inalienable possession carried by the slaves +from their Oriental homes—is an index of the psychological change. In +the last phase of the Second Act, the ‘Red Guards’ of Sicily +and Anatolia had been led by prophets and preachers of their Oriental +gods. Their religion had lent itself to their revolutionary state of +mind. But under the Empire, as descendants of the plantation-slaves +succeeded in purchasing their freedom and forming a new class of +shopkeepers and clerks, their religion correspondingly reflected their +rise in the world. They remained indifferent, if not hostile, to the +Imperial Hellenic tradition, but they began to aspire to a kingdom of +their own in this world as well as in the next. The force which had +broken out desperately in the crazy wonder-working of Eunous of Enna and +had then inspired the ‘other-worldly’ exaltation of Paul of +Tarsos, was soon conducted into the walls of chapels, and the local +associations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> +of Christian chapel-goers were steadily linked up into a federation so +powerfully organized that the Imperial federation of city-states had +eventually to choose between going into partnership with it or being +supplanted. Thus the empire of which Marcus and Paul were citizens was +more than the third act in the tragedy of Ancient Greece. While it +retarded the inevitable dissolution of one civilization it conceived its +successor, and when, after Marcus’s death, imperial statesmanship +failed, and the ancient organism long preserved by its skill at last +broke down, the shock did not extinguish new and old together, but +brought the new life to birth. By the seventh century after Christ, when +Ancient Greek civilization may be said finally to have dissolved, our +own civilization was ready to ‘shoot up and thrive’ and +repeat the tragedy of mankind.</p> + +<p>The writer can best express his personal feeling about the Empire in a +parable. It was like the sea round whose shores its network of +city-states was strung. The Mediterranean seems at first sight a poor +substitute for the rivers that have given their waters to make it. Those +were living waters, whether they ran muddy or clear; the sea seems just +salt and still and dead. But as soon as we study the sea, we find +movement and life there also. There are silent currents circulating +perpetually from one part to another, and the surface-water that seems +to be lost by evaporation is not really lost, but will descend in +distant places and seasons, with its bitterness all distilled away, as +life-giving rain. And as these surface-waters are drawn off into the +clouds, their place is taken by lower layers continually rising from the +depths. The sea itself is in constant and creative motion, but the +influence of this great body of water extends far beyond its shores. One +finds it softening the extremes of temperature, quickening the +vegetation, and prospering the life of animals and men, in the distant +heart of continents and among peoples that have never heard its name.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Arnold Toynbee.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="POLITICAL" id="POLITICAL"></a>POLITICAL THOUGHT</h2> + +<p>In a survey of the legacy of Ancient Greece to our modern civilization +and its problems, it might well seem at first sight as though the +political contribution of Greece could be ignored. Greek art, Greek +literature, Greek philosophy are among the world’s abiding +possessions, for the human passions and questionings which gave them +birth and the human needs to which they minister will last as long as +human life itself. But Greek political thinking is so much bound up with +the peculiar and evanescent external conditions of fifth and fourth +century Greece, centres indeed so exclusively round the special problems +of its intellectual metropolis, Athens, that its interest might appear +to have passed away with the régime to which it owes its existence. The +<i>Agamemnon</i> and the <i>Antigone</i>, with their teachings of destiny and +duty, the Hermes of Olympia and the Parthenon frieze, with their +ever-irresistible charm of youthfulness, the <i>Phaedo</i> with its +discussion of immortality, the <i>Metaphysics</i> of Aristotle with their +still subtler and more abstruse speculations, source of so much of our +Christian doctrine and apologetic—all these require little defence +against the Philistine of to-day, if only he can be induced to gaze at +his intended victim before he delivers his blow. But Thucydides with his +long and detailed account of an inter-tribal or inter-municipal war, +decked out with sham speeches which were never delivered: Plato with his +imaginary Utopia, half a small Greek provincial town, half an impossible +and unendurably regimented socialist model community, based on a +fine-drawn and fallacious comparison between the qualities of the human +soul and the class-divisions which happened to prevail in the Greek +society of the time: Aristotle with his laborious investigations +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +into the municipal pathology of his day and his detailed prescriptions +for the betterment of his fellow-provincials and their +institutions—what have we to do with all this in an age of world +problems and conflicts and of not merely continent-wide but +international ideas and projects of organization? The first duty of any +one who seeks to interest the modern reader in Greek political +discussion is to be perfectly frank and lucid about its limitations. He +need have no cause to be afraid that, when these have been written off +from his prospectus, there will be too little of value remaining.</p> + +<p>These limitations can be summarized under two main heads. They arise, +firstly, from a <i>difference of scale</i>, and secondly, from a <i>difference +of outlook</i>, between ancient and modern political thought.</p> + +<p>The difference of scale leaps to the eye at once, although its +consequences are not all of them so obvious. Ancient Greece was, for +political purposes, a congeries of sovereign states, generally centring +round the urban metropolis of a rural district smaller than that of an +average English county. The material upon which Greek political thought +worked was, therefore, from our modern point of view not only +small-scale but almost Lilliputian. This can best be appreciated when we +consider how many gradations of scale are interposed in the modern world +between the government of a town or district of the size of +fifth-century Athens and the government of our own sovereign state, the +British Commonwealth. Athens was far smaller than Leeds, Johannesburg, +or Chicago: yet to be Mayor of any of these is not to fill a position of +commanding responsibility, as political responsibility is understood in +the large-scale world of to-day. The American State, the South African +province and Dominion and (for certain purposes) the English County +stand between the giant municipality and the sovereign parliament. To a +British Premier passing from a coal strike which reacts upon the trade +of the entire world to an Imperial Conference +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> +Engaged In Tracing Out An Agreed Line Of Policy On The Pacific +Question, The Problems Of A Pericles, Or Even Of An Alexander, Would +Seem But Child’s Play.</p> + +<p>Let us see what results from this difference of scale. In the first +place, Greek political thought although (as we shall see) it aimed at +<i>universality</i>, at arriving at certain definite laws or conclusions +about politics, never succeeded in divesting itself of a certain element +of local or national individuality. When Plato and Thucydides think and +write of ‘the State’ they are also thinking of the City—the +same word, <i>polis</i>, serves indeed for the two—and not merely of the +City, i. e., of any municipality, but of a particular city. There are +elements in Greek political thought which, just because they owe their +inspiration to Athens, can never be universalized. A treatise on +education in which general psychological conclusions were intermingled +with conclusions based on experience at some English school with a very +unique tradition, would require to be carefully examined and applied +with caution to the problems of adolescent life in Japan or Nigeria. +Similarly, in so far as Greek political thought is Athenian or (to use a +much disputed term in what I hold to be its proper sense) <i>national</i>, it +is not truly political.</p> + +<p>The distinction that I am trying to draw is a difficult one and cannot +be understood without a short digression about the nature of the study +of politics. Politics is the study or activity of government, of the +management of the public or common affairs of men. We need +‘politicians’, men who will devote themselves to meeting the +demand for the management of our common affairs—we need them not +because we are Englishmen, Irishmen, or Americans, but because we are +human beings living together in society, and because our co-operative +relations and activities require to be guided and controlled. Whether +the ‘politician’ is a tyrant or a Minister of the people is +not here to the point; the point is that he is the manager of what the +Romans called <i>res publica</i>, the Latin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +for the good old English word ‘Commonwealth’. Politics is +therefore primarily concerned with the practical problems arising out of +the fact that a number of different human beings are living together, +and the more different they are and the smaller their greatest common +measure, the more truly political do such problems become. The first +business, of the politician or governor is, as Aristotle said, to see +that men shall live (the twin problems of supply and defence), his +second to see that they shall live well (in the first instance the +problems of health and physical development and well-being). In the last +analysis <i>pure politics</i>, as our great grandchildren may discover if +ever the World-State becomes a reality, is mainly concerned with +<i>administration</i>, administration of the affairs common to all in the +interests of all.</p> + +<p>Now ancient Greek politics were entangled, and modern politics also are +still too largely entangled, with the discussion of matters which are +not <i>common</i> at all, and do not constitute the material of politics in +the true sense of the word—with questions arising, not out of the +common need for a common law, but out of the inner ultimate and +ineradicable differences between the various nations and other groupings +of mankind. When the League of Nations or the Dublin City Council is +discussing an epidemic of small-pox or the improvement of some dock or +wharf, or schools for mothers, or the problem of juvenile employment it +is dealing with common interests which affect human beings as human +beings: it is on the plane of politics proper. But when the Dublin City +Council, following in the wake of the nineteenth century democratic +movement throughout Europe, puts forward some proposal in order to give +satisfaction to the sentiment that Ireland being the home of a nation +ought to be a sovereign state, and when the League of Nations is asked +to deal with the political situation created by the clash of contending +nationalisms in the British Isles or elsewhere, both bodies, as +governing bodies, are out of their depth: for they are faced with an +impossible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +task. Established to deal with politics proper, with the common affairs +of men as men, they are bound to flounder helplessly when they are +cajoled into the thorny intimate and (let it be added) far more +fascinating region of national and individual personality—to a +region where, the deeper you penetrate, the less common, uniform, +standardized or standardizable are the interests involved, and the less +susceptible of being ‘settled’, or even understood, by the +rough and ready politician accustomed to deal with matters in the bulk +and to measure up the results on a quantitative reckoning in the cold +and cosmopolitan language of statistics.</p> + +<p>In reading the Greek political writers then, we must be careful to +distinguish the universal from the local and ephemeral element. The +latter is indeed of great interest and value; but we shall tend to miss +the really precious and permanent elements in their thought if we do not +take pains to disentangle Thucydides the disillusioned Athenian patriot +from Thucydides the scientific historian and psychologist, and Plato the +aristocrat born out of due season from Plato the unrivalled student of +human nature and of the permanent needs of human society.</p> + +<p>The failure to recognize this distinction has led to much +misunderstanding and shallow thinking in attempts to apply Greek ideas +and maxims too literally to modern life. It is only too common to hear +Englishmen, whose knowledge of politics and history, outside the +newspapers, is confined to stray reminiscences from a not very ardent +pursuit of the classics in their school and college days, basing +confident predictions of the failure of modern democracy on some <i>obiter +dictum</i> of Thucydides or Plato and assessing the fate of the British +Commonwealth in terms borrowed from some judgement of Sallust or Tacitus +on its wholly different Roman prototype. It is flippancy or pedantry +like this which gives rise to the onslaughts of a Cobden or Herbert +Spencer or an H. G. Wells and to the practical man’s suspicion of +a classical education. One might as well go to last year’s market +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +reports for guidance in a business deal of to-day as have recourse to +Plato, or, for that matter, to Macchiavelli, in an existing political +emergency. If a classical education, designed as it is in England to +promote ‘character’ rather than ‘intellect’ (a +vicious distinction which leaves no room for such a quality as +intellectual integrity) often leaves behind it but a meagre residuum of +knowledge and ideas, it should at least cause the public school man of +yesterday and the London clubman of to-day to realize the limitations of +his field of study and to abstain from confident political +generalization. The Labour M.P. who once remarked to the writer, <i>à +propos</i> of an Indian debate, that he had been in the House just long +enough to know that all he knew about India was that he knew nothing +about it, had been brought up, if not in a better at least in a cannier +school. There is no sounder training for the student of politics and +history, or indeed of any serious subject, than to know everything about +something, whether it be the chronological order of Plato’s +dialogues or the problem of humidity in weaving-sheds, or about placing +a field or keeping a wicket. That is why the Duke of Wellington who, if +he lacked the intellectuality of a Foch, at least knew both his England +and his own job of military science, selected the playing fields rather +than the classical classrooms of Eton as the home and training-ground of +that concentrated and disinterested endeavour of mind and spirit which +had carried his army through patient years of effort to victory. It is +all to the good that our classical devotees, faced with criticism and +competition from many quarters, should be acquiring both a greater +humility and a greater seriousness.</p> + +<p>Our first caution then, is that Greek political thought is both national +and universal, and that we must learn to distinguish what pertains to +nationality from what pertains to government.</p> + +<p>A second result which flows from the small-scale character of Greek +politics is that we nowhere find an adequate treatment +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> +of the problem of <i>foreign relations</i>. Foreign policy is one of the +weak spots of modern democracy; it is, perhaps, the element in our +political technique which is most in need of thoroughgoing revision. We +have yet to induce the modern citizen to pay continuous attention to +issues which, although they are seemingly remote from his purview, may +at any moment shake the whole fabric of his everyday existence; and, +when we have done this, we have to persuade him to approach these +world-problems not in the spirit of a competitive aggrandizement but +with a view to discovering what is the best line of policy in the +interests of the world as a whole. So long as the peoples remain +self-absorbed, the governments will continue to conduct their mutual +relations on a basis of individual self-interest, and the meetings of +the Assembly of the League of Nations will remain what they are at +present, not gatherings of statesmen solely bent, each from his own +angle and upbringing, on the welfare of humanity, but barterings of +politicians who (with rare exceptions) have come to the fair to do the +best business they can for their own clients. Now Thucydides and Plato +give us no help for the League of Nations. Such a phrase as ‘the +interests of humanity as a whole’ would have been politically +meaningless to them. They did not think of humanity as a whole; they +thought of it as divided sharply into two sections, Greeks and +Barbarians, and of the Greek world as a small oasis of intelligence and +culture ringed round by a wide and indefinite expanse of barbarism. We +also, it is true, speak of ‘advanced’ and +‘backward’ peoples: but the latter are not, as they were to +the Greeks, a formidable mass, tribe upon tribe, of military power +extending up to and beyond the known or legendary confines of the world; +they are child-races under our watchful care and control. We have +explored and surveyed the whole earth, and where we find weakness or +inferiority, we establish a trusteeship. To the Greeks, ever on their +guard against barbarian inroads from north, south, east and west, +from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +Scythians and Libyans, Persians and Carthaginians, the mandate clause +of the Covenant would have seemed both theoretically undesirable and +practically impossible. No Greek writer ever dreamed of a system of +international co-operation between the governments of the world as men +then knew it. All of them thought in terms of competition and +ever-recurrent warfare or, at best, of a precarious balance of power. +Even Plato’s Utopia had its soldier class; and they were real +soldiers, not merely police. In this respect, at any rate, vanquished +Germany, with practically the whole of her population relieved from +military duty and available for productive tasks, has the advantage over +the most ideal construction of ancient Greece.</p> + +<p>There is a further point to be noted under this head. If Greek thought +gives us no guidance in foreign policy, it is no more helpful, except +very indirectly, in another difficult region, that of <i>industrial +policy</i>. The problem of industrial policy, or what is sometimes roughly +described as the Labour problem, may perhaps be thus stated: how to +secure or maintain for civilized mankind (or for our own particular +section of it) the goods and services it needs, whilst at the same time +providing justice and freedom for those who produce them. To put it more +shortly, how to secure that a good life for the consumer shall be +compatible with a good life for the producer. It is a problem which goes +to the root of democracy: for the world has never yet known a time when +the increase of wealth and the consequent growth of refinement and +civilization in the upper section of the community did not lead to +degradation and injustice in the lower. Here too the Greeks can give us +no help. They did not even face the problem but fail to solve it, like +the Romans. Their material civilization was so simple that the problem +hardly arose for them at all—except in certain cases, such as that of +the mine-slaves. But the fact that they acquiesced, without a twinge of +conscience or a trace of repining, in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +institution of slavery indicates how they would probably have faced it +had it arisen. Confront Plato with the complexity of modern industry, +prove to him, as any modern lecturer could, that, for Northern man at +any rate, life can only be maintained without degradation on a basis of +widespread industrialism and with our familiar equipment of railways, +steamships, telephones, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>, and it is safe to predict +that he would fail to give the reply which the modern reformer would +expect from him. Instead of embracing one of the many current varieties +of socialism which masquerade as his bastard progeny, he would either +accept his interlocutor’s premisses and tell him to build up his +precious northern civilization on a basis of slavery; or he would reject +them and advise him, with Samuel Butler, to make a bonfire of the +machines. The latter is, indeed, the more probable alternative; for it +is that to which the more thoughtful and prophetic (perhaps one can add +also, the more Hellenic) of our modern guides are turning. When men so +diverse as Tagore the Indian sage and Rathenau the German Trust magnate +tell us that the disease from which we are suffering is +‘mechanization’, and that our crying need is for greater +simplicity, it seems safe to predict that Plato would not reject the +possibility of providing a ‘good life’ for the modern man in +a world divested of most of the rattling and tinkling paraphernalia of +which the nineteenth century so plumed itself as the inventor.</p> + +<p>Let us pass now to our second limitation, that arising not from the +difference of scale but from the difference of outlook between Greek and +modern speculation. We can best sum this up by saying that whereas +modern political thought, like modern thought generally, works from the +inner to the outer, from the individual to the state and society, the +ancient thinkers habitually work in the opposite direction, setting the +interests of the community or state above those of the individual. This +is what Fustel de Coulanges intended to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +convey when he declared that ancient man had no conception of the +meaning of liberty. Liberty is no doubt a somewhat confusing and +ambiguous term; it is hard to cut it loose from its political +associations, from national independence and democratic self-government. +We can perhaps therefore improve upon the French writer by saying that +the Greek political thinkers do not recognize, or do not make proper +allowance for, the rights and responsibilities of the individual soul. +Just as they failed to distinguish between Nationality and Government, +so they failed also to distinguish between Conscience and Public duty. +Socrates, indeed, meeting his death in obedience both to Conscience and +Law, had a glimpse of the higher truth; but his followers did not take +up this side of his message or, in so far as they did so in their study +of individual morality, they did not relate it to their theories of +politics. It was a greater than Socrates who summed up and put the +problem with his incomparable directness and irony: <i>Render unto Caesar +the things which are Caesar’s and unto God the things which are +God’s</i>. If this had been said in the presence of Thucydides, the +keenest practical brain that applied itself to Greek political thinking, +he simply would not have known what it meant. To him Caesar and God, or, +to translate them into his own language, Athens and Athena, were not +opposing but practically identical terms. When the Athenian, as he +described him, ‘spent his body, as a mere external tool, in the +city’s service and counted his mind as most truly his own when +employed on her behalf,’ he was, according to the universal Greek +belief, serving both his God and his neighbour, both his own highest +good and the noblest of the world’s causes. His life was a unity: +for he had not yet learned to disentangle his soul from the soul of the +City or the herd, or his God from the god of Israel or of Athens. The +Greek thinkers, as we shall see, sincerely endeavoured to distinguish +between the ‘good citizen’ and ‘the good man’ +and to base the State on foundations of the spirit; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +their work was vitiated by their failure to realize the extent and +urgency of the claim of the individual soul. Men must be spiritually +free before they can co-operate politically on the highest terms. In the +last analysis the weakness of Greek political speculation can be traced +back to the weakness of Greek religion. Even Plato played with Pagan +orthodoxy and gave the Delphic Apollo a titular place in his Utopia, +proving himself as timid in touching Greek superstitions as English +thinkers to-day are in touching the Monarchy. It is this basis of +insincerity which reveals itself throughout the superstructure. Greek +political thought contains already the germs of the disease which, +centuries later, led men, plebeians first, later patricians also, to +turn away from the outworn symbols that stood for the union of Church +and State and to seek comfort in a religion which, if it undermined and +eventually overturned the last and greatest of the ancient Empires, +established the City of the Soul upon a firm and enduring basis. +Julian’s <i>Vicisti Galilaee</i> marked the end of one strain or +tradition in ancient political thought which, originating in the local +worships of the City-State, had lasted on, with gathering momentum, +until, all over the known world, men bowed the knee before the altar of +Caesar, the God-Emperor. From this there was no way forward except +through revolution; and mankind paid, in the night of the Dark Ages, for +sins of compromise and insincerity committed during long centuries of +enlightenment.</p> + +<p>The liabilities thus frankly stated, let us turn to the assets.</p> + +<p>The first valuable contribution the Greeks made to political study was +that they invented it. It is not too much to say that, before +fifth-century Greece, politics did not exist. There were powers and +principalities, governments and subjects, but politics no more existed +than chemistry existed in the age of alchemy. An imitation of an idea, +as Plato has taught us, is not the same as an idea; nor is the imitation +of a science the same as a science. Rameses and Nebuchadnezzar, Croesus +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +the Lydian and Cyrus the Persian, ruled over great empires; but within +their dominions there were no politics because there were no public +affairs. There were only the private affairs of the sovereign and his +ruling class. Government and all that pertained to it, from military +service and taxation to the supply of women for the royal harem, was +simply the expression of the power and desire of the ruler. The great +advance made by Greece was to have recognized that public or common +interests exist and to have provided, first for their management, and +secondly for their study. In other words, the Greeks were the first to +rescue the body politic from charlatans and to hand it over to +physicians.</p> + +<p>How great an achievement this was we can best recognize when we consider +how large a place the true study of politics, and the terms and ideas to +which it has given rise, fills in the life of the modern man—especially +of the modern Englishman. Justice and liberty, law and democracy, +parliament and public opinion—all these and many more we owe to the +peasants and craftsmen of the small Greek republics who, having felt the +need for a better management of their humble concerns, set to work to +provide it, with the same inventiveness, the same adaptation of means to +end, which led them, in other fields, to the invention of the classic +temple or of the drama. If it is going too far to say that every modern +politician owes his stock-in-trade of general ideas to the Greeks, there +are certainly few who do not owe them their perorations.</p> + +<p>This is not the place to enlarge on the features of Greek political +organization or to point out the various elements in Greek political +theory or practice which have proved of permanent value. Only a very +summary appreciation can be attempted. But certain points can be picked +out as being of special interest to the citizen of to-day.</p> + +<p>In the first place, the Greeks, having made clear to themselves that +public or common affairs existed, sat down resolutely to study them. +Convinced believers in reason,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +they did not fall into the convenient English fallacy of believing that +institutions are not made but ‘grow’, or that difficulties +which seem too thorny for timid fingers to touch will settle themselves +by being left alone. Political problems, they felt, were caused by men, +by the interaction of human wills and desires, and by men, by the +conscious and deliberate application of human intelligence, they could +and must be solved. In spite of their belief in mysterious powers which +control the destinies of men and nations, they did not think it decent +to abandon public affairs to Providence; nor did they avert their gaze +from them as too mundane for the squeamish intellectual to handle and +turn them over to the tender mercies of the ignorant and less scrupulous +demagogue or doctrinaire. Their public affairs were no more interesting +than ours: they were indeed considerably less interesting—unless +we are prepared to argue that the election of generals to command an +army far smaller than the Swiss is a more arresting issue than the +choice of a government to bear rule over 400 millions of men on five +continents, or that the question of peace or war between two small +neighbouring mountain territories outweighs in interest the discussion +of the relations between the white and yellow races of mankind. And, if +Greek politics were not interesting in themselves, they suffered still +further by comparison with the other topics which lay ready to claim the +Greek citizen’s attention. The modern voter who is too idle to +cast his ballot, will give up to business or to pleasure, to motor-car +and music-hall, the time and the trouble that he owes to humanity. When +the Athenian spent a hot and exhausting day (for why should we think +their nerves less susceptible to glare than ours?) listening to a +parliamentary debate or to a lawsuit on a hard stone seat in the open +air, he was postponing till to-morrow, or till his crops and fruit-trees +permitted him the leisure, the discussion of some masterpiece of drama +or some new issue of human thought which had leapt during the last few +days<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +or months from the brain of a fellow citizen into immortality. If it is +hard for the citizen of New York to spare the time to dethrone Tammany, +or for the electors of Great Britain to uproot its more outwardly +respectable analogue on this side of the Atlantic, when his life, and +his newspapers, are full of vulgar and ephemeral distractions, how much +harder must it have been for a Euripidean enthusiast, or a student of +Socrates or Protagoras, to descend for long days to solid earth in order +to strike a bargain with a Thracian chieftain or to assess some poor +devil’s damages in drachmae! Let us honour, not pity or despise +them, for having thought it right to do so, for having deliberately +determined to infuse into public affairs, in themselves so drab and +dull, so deficient in the fineness and subtlety which characterize +men’s more intimate concerns, the interest derived from the very +fact that honest, sincere, and able minds devoted themselves to their +study. As Huxley could make the geological procession of the ages +revolve round a piece of chalk, and Sir Richard Owen reconstruct +primitive man from the bone of his great toe, so the citizen of Athens, +as we see him depicted for us in the pages of Thucydides, could raise +the great permanent issues of politics, and cause them to remain living +for us two thousand years later, in debates which were ostensibly +concerned with mere provincial trivialities. When such was the +atmosphere created, no wonder that those who stayed away were held up to +obloquy in an expression (<span class='t' title='idiôtês'>ιδιωτης</span>) +of which our English ‘idiot’ is the exact transcription.</p> + +<p>Let us dwell for a moment on the attitude of mind in which the Greek +citizen approached political problems. He was both a Conservative and a +Radical; or rather, he brought to politics the best of Conservatism +together with the best of Radicalism. He was a Conservative because he +reverenced tradition and recognized the power and value of custom. None +of our modern Conservative writers and defenders of the existing order, +not Burke himself or Bismarck or Chateaubriand,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> +had a deeper sense than the Athenian for ‘those unwritten +ordinances whose transgression brings admitted shame’. Athens was +a Conservative democracy. Most democracies, despite the labels of their +politicians, are in reality Conservative; for the common man whose +régime they represent is Conservative from the very nature of his +life and occupation; it takes leisure and travel, or a wider education +than any democracy has as yet bestowed on its young people, to lift the +minds of the mass of men out of the rut of habit. But Athens was far +more Conservative than the modern democracies with whom we are +acquainted. Where the British public rebukes an awkward writer by +conspiring to boycott his books, so that, unless he has private means, +he is eventually silenced, where the United States, going a step +farther, deny his works the privilege of the mails, Athens does not +scruple to administer hemlock, and, if an <i>élite</i> is indignant or +sorrowful, the democracy applauds. Even at the height of the recent Red +Terror the United States never went so Conservative as this. This should +help us to realize the rock-firm basis of tradition, of use and wont, of +patriarchal sanctities, which underlay the working of fifth-century +Athenian democracy as we watch its apparent vicissitudes. The citizen +could use his mind as freely as he would on the material presented to +him for his consideration; but there was a point at which the State, and +his own instincts, cried ‘Halt’; and, except in rare cases, +he obeyed. It is only fair to add that the most enlightened modern +opinion would entirely support the Athenian view against the discussion +of ‘unwritten laws’ in Parliament. The difference between +the Conservative Athenian democrat and the modern Liberal in such +matters is, not that the one refuses, while the other demands, the +discussion of life’s sanctities in Parliament and law-court, but +that the one appeals to custom and the other to conscience as the +sanction of the unwritten law itself. Whether it be the gods or man, the +law of the hearth or of the heart, that is at issue,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +both agree that what is private and holy has no place in the forum of +common debate.</p> + +<p>But, within these well-recognized limits, the Greek citizen was a +Radical; that is to say, he was ready to apply his reason to public +affairs without fear or prejudice. He loved straight and sincere +thinking; he tried hard to face the real situation before him and not to +be clouded or led astray by side-issues or inhibitions. There is many a +lesson in common honesty to be learnt by our politicians and public in +the speeches of Thucydides. Shallow critics have been known to dub them +cynical, an adjective which the English, adepts in self-deception, are +fond of applying to nations sincerer in self-analysis than themselves. +When we refuse formally to reopen an issue on which action is in fact +being taken daily, because it is a party question and a Coalition +government is in power, when we leave to the healing mercies of time a +problem with regard to which inaction itself constitutes a policy, when +we deliberately invent party labels or election cries designed to +confuse the mind of the voter and to distract him from the real issue, +when our politicians have become professionals in the art of what +Thucydides described as ‘the use of fair phrases to arrive at +guilty ends’ and a British Premier, more euphemistically, as +‘political strategy’, we might do worse than sit down to +read, mark, learn, digest, and apply to our modern situations, the +immortal speeches or essays in which Thucydides lays bare for us the +heart of the political life of his day, and to let them act as a purge +of some of our own too sugary diet. The bitter-sweet of truth is not +always popular on the hustings; but it is good feeding for the plain +citizen, whether ancient or modern.</p> + +<p>This leads on to a further reflection. The Greeks, in their political +thinking, were essentially realists, rather than idealists. This is true +of all the Greek writers, even those who, like Plato, starting from the +market-place of Athens, lead us up to a Utopia in the clouds. They were +realists in that they based<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +their political studies on the world as it is and human nature as it +is, rather than on some personal and fanciful conception of what man and +the world ought to be. To put it in other words, they are realists +because they are psychologists, because they applied the psychological +method to political problems. That they were the first to do so goes +without saying: for no one before them had applied any method at all, +except in the most rough-and-ready manner. But they did it so perfectly, +with such utter and artistic simplicity, that those who followed them +accepted or criticized their results without observing the basis of +human study on which they were built up, and it is only in quite recent +years, through the work of patient inquirers who, like Graham Wallas, +have laboured systematically in both fields, that politics and +psychology have once more been drawn together.</p> + +<p>It may perhaps seem strange to a modern reader to be told that, in this +very important respect, Thucydides, Plato, and Aristotle are sounder in +their method than the whole long line of political thinkers and +statesmen up to our own day. Let the reader who doubts it turn to the +texts. He will find that all the three writers whom I have named toiled +at the study of human nature before they set pen to paper. The +<i>Republic</i> opens with several books of psychological analysis, no doubt +at times a little fantastic in its attempts at premature classification, +but full of life and reality, and not only Greek reality but human +reality. Aristotle precedes his work on <i>Politics</i>, in which he embodied +the results of a study of all the available political and constitutional +material of his day—for a Greek could work like a modern German or +American thesis-grubber when he tried—with a book on <i>Ethics</i> which is +still regarded, quite rightly, as a standard work for the modern +student. As for Thucydides, his knowledge of men, the fruit of patient +experience deepened by disappointment, is felt behind every line of his +book, as one descries it in the features of his undegenerate descendant +Venizelos. Turn now to the moderns. Where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> +in Hobbes or in Bentham, in Locke or Burke or Rousseau, in the +individualists or the Socialists, the Hegelians or the anarchists, do we +find, until quite recently, a really wide and open-minded attempt to see +man as he is? Our ears are assailed by a chorus of catchwords, based on +some arbitrary and ephemeral estimate of men’s reactions to +outward events and institutions. Men argue backwards and forwards as to +whether ‘human nature can be changed’, whether man is guided +solely by self-interest, or is only waiting to be set free from sordid +cares to be guided solely by his love for his fellows, whether fear or +hope, custom or the sense of adventure, form his natural and most +compelling spur to action. Meanwhile in the great debate, in +Burke’s <i>Reflections</i> as in Marx’s <i>Capital</i>, in Maine and +Mill and Mazzini, as among the hacks who vulgarize their results in +text-books and election literature, man as he is has vanished behind a +cloud of doctrine or verbiage. We need the simplicity, or cynicism, of +the Greeks to recall us to realities.</p> + +<p>Let us for a moment imagine Thucydides face to face with the problems of +our post-war world of to-day. We have only to read his immortal analysis +of the war-mood of Greece, and of the nervous and emotional phenomena +which accompanied it, to realize that his first effort would have been +to explain us to ourselves. He would not allow us to acquiesce idly in +our vague disillusionment, our impatience of foreigners, our suspicion +of the idealisms of the Wilson brand. He would trace our discontent +ruthlessly to its sources and hold up to our eyes the strange compound +of sorrow and fatigue, impatience and disappointment, aspiration and +helplessness which makes us what we are. ‘The war-mood brought +with it many and terrible symptoms such as have occurred and will always +continue to occur, so long as human nature remains what it is; though in +a severer or milder form, according to the variety of the particular +cases.’ Thucydides would have had eyes for it in all its forms, +mild or severe, simple or complex,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +pitiful or repulsive. He would show us the English upper and middle +class, shaken out of its comfort and complacency, its easy and +patronizing security, by the shock of war and bereavement, facing a +future of unknown and terrifying ideas and forces, with the brutal +tax-gatherer administering the <i>coup de grâce</i> to its equanimity: +the working class, called to fight for a cause which it but dimly +understood, in the hope of a new world which victory was to call into +being, exhorted by the nation’s leaders to be as daring in its +home policies as in the trenches, and then confronted with a world of +failing markets and impoverished customers and with the full rigour of +the merciless laws of supply and demand which, just because it had +wished them out of existence, it had grown accustomed to believe could +be ignored, oscillating, according to age, temperament or experience, +between resignation and impotent fury, between old-fashioned +trade-unionism and the latest fashion in extremism: France, emerging +nerve-racked from a fifty years’ obsession and a five years’ +nightmare, half-dead with sorrow and suspense, yet too proud in victory +to own her weakness, looking round, half-defiant, half-wistful, among +her allies for one who can understand her unspoken need, and longing, +with all the intensity of her sensitive nature, to be able to resume, in +security and quietness of mind, the arts and activities of normal life +in which she has been, and will be again, the Athens of the modern +world: Germany, tougher in fibre than her western neighbour yet equally +shaken and exhausted: a land of sheep without a shepherd, rushing hither +and thither seeking for a direction and a <i>Weltanschauung</i>, her amazing +powers of industry and concentration and her rich and turbid life of +feeling running to waste for lack of channelled guidance: Belgium, +self-confident, industrious and rejuvenated: Italy, made one at last and +measuring her strength to face the tasks of a new epoch in her history: +and, behind, the great new surging world of the Slav, from the +disciplined enthusiasm of Prague, under her philosopher-president, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +to the birth-agonies of a new Russia in the grip of the rough +tyrant-physicians of the Kremlin. All this a modern Thucydides would +attempt to set before us, not forgetting the conservative forces and the +gods of the older generation, the great Catholic and Protestant, Moslem +and Socialist traditions, the power of the bankers and the merchants, +the universities and the press, and all the various types of humanity +produced and hall-marked by their activity. And then, and not till then, +having shown us what we are, each of us in his niche and all of us +together in our little corner in the vast Temple of mankind, having made +us see our pettyisms and orthodoxies against a universal background of +time and space, he would have broken silence and allowed himself to +speak to us of remedies. <i>Know yourself</i> is the first, perhaps the only, +message of the scientific historian to our bewildered age.</p> + +<p>But by what right, it will be asked, in this age of <i>Wissenschaft</i> and +<i>Fachmenschen</i>, of specialism and research-institutes and organized +intellectual production, do you speak of Thucydides as a scientific +historian? Here is a man who, without a university degree or any +university training at all, after a brief military career for which he +took no staff college course (as witness his generalship), sits down to +write a chronicle of the war in which he played a part, basing his +account simply on his own experience and on the testimony of such +eye-witnesses as he was able to meet. Any tiro on the history staff at a +modern college or university could predict the result—one of those +bulky volumes, full of detail and post-prandial reminiscence, in which +splenetic elderly gentlemen have so often sought to justify their own +existence, and to call down damnation on the War Office, before an +indifferent public. How can anything better be expected from a mere +soldier, a rough practical man, untrained in the arts of research, in +collecting facts on slips of paper and arranging and re-arranging them +till an induction emerges, in looking up reference books in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +libraries and ‘listing’ them in a neat alphabetical +bibliography, totally ignorant of the <i>Hilfswissenschaften</i>, the +laborious subsidiary studies on the basis of which scientific history is +built up, ignorant even of foreign languages, who has read no sociology, +and is not even aware of its existence, whose geographical studies are +limited to his own journeys and the tales of his friends, who, finally, +has the impertinence to intersperse his narrative with fictitious +speeches, thus destroying any pretence at a scientific character for his +treatise, and revealing it in its true nature as a mere work of art or +imagination? It may indeed be doubted whether a modern trained +librarian, working according to the classification laid down by the +standard Congress library at Washington, would, when his attention was +drawn to it, admit so offending a writer on to his history shelves at +all. His place, he would probably say, is with the prose-poets, or with +the writers of historical fiction next door to them.</p> + +<p>Yet turn to the opening chapters of Thucydides’ book. You will +find most of the sciences on which long modern treatises are written: +but you will find something more: you will find them blended into a +unity. Let those who deny that Thucydides was a sociologist, who +continue to claim that Herbert Spencer, inventor of the horrid word, +invented also the science, re-read Thucydides’ account of the +evolution (for it was as an evolution that he saw and depicted it) of +Greek society from the earliest times to his own day. Let those who cry +up anthropology examine into his treatment of legend and custom and his +power, untrained in Seminar or institute, to use it as sociological +evidence. Let the geographers, too forgetful sometimes that man is not +the creature of environment alone, refresh their minds by recalling +those brilliant sallies in geographical thinking in which he explains +some of the features of early Greek settlement and city-building. It is +not only orthodox history, of the school of Ranke, of which Thucydides +is the father and inspirer: there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> +is not one of the many movements which have sought to broaden out +historical study in recent years, from Buckle and Leplay and Vidal de la +Blache down to the psycho-analysts of our own day and of to-morrow who +will not find in Thucydides some gleaming anticipation along the path of +their own thought.</p> + +<p>Here we touch upon what is perhaps the cardinal merit of the Greek +political thinkers, as it is of the Greek contribution as a whole. They +saw all the problems: but saw each in its place within the larger whole. +They ‘saw life steadily and saw it whole’. Matthew +Arnold’s line is hackneyed enough; but it cannot be bettered. To +put the same thought in another way, the Greeks were natural Catholics, +while we of to-day, especially on the political field, are constantly +relapsing into an unhelpful Protestantism. By Catholicism I mean nothing +doctrinal, or indeed religious at all, but simply the habit of mind +which insists on looking at the whole before the parts, at setting the +common before the sectional interest, and in sweetening and harmonizing +the inevitable contrarieties and antagonisms of life by remaining +steadily conscious of its major and reconciling interests. A Catholic is +one whose intellect, to use the words of Newman, himself, despite his +religious label, one of the greatest of the tribe, ‘cannot be +partial, cannot be exclusive, cannot be impetuous, cannot be at a loss, +cannot but be patient, collected and majestically calm, because it +discerns the end in every beginning, the origin in each end, the law in +every interruption, the limit in each delay, because it ever knows where +it stands and how its path lies from one point to another’. +Protestantism, on the other hand, is the attitude of protest, of revolt, +of indignation: the spirit which is conscious only of what it is +<i>against</i>, and is too ignorant, or too angry, to survey the whole field +of problems involved in its protest or to think out an alternative +scheme. If the Greeks can render us no other service in our discontents +they can at least lift us, by the example of their wide and fearless +vision, out of our petty Protestant rebelliousness +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +and recrimination and plant our feet solidly on the rock of steady +Catholic thinking.</p> + +<p>Take a few instances, drawn from Plato, of what I call the Catholic +spirit. Perhaps the most difficult and unsettling of all our modern +problems is that of the relations between men and women in a society +which has granted or is about to grant to women complete equality of +rights and opportunities without having effected the corresponding inner +revolution of thought and sentiment. Masculine society, in other words, +despite a multitude of professions, has not yet admitted, still less +assimilated, the educated woman into its ranks. Here is a problem with +far reaching and most difficult implications which Plato discussed more +than two thousand years ago, but in how different a spirit from so many +of the ‘feminists’ of to-day. Not that he was less +‘advanced’ in his speculations: he was ready to face all +that there was to face and to go a good deal farther in his suggestions +of policy than would be regarded as printable in a modern English or +American review. But his spirit is throughout perfectly serene and, in +the best sense of the word, scientific, so that he can work out his +argument to the end without a trace of squeamishness or false modesty. +Where shall we find in our modern discussions of women’s +employment, equal work for equal pay, and the like, the central point so +simply and clearly stated as in the following sentence: ‘Then, if +we find either the male or the female sex excelling the other in any art +or other pursuit, we shall say that this particular pursuit must be +assigned to one and not to the other; but if we find that the difference +simply consists in this, that the female conceives and the male begets, +we shall not allow that that goes any way to prove that a woman differs +from a man with reference to the subject of which we are speaking, and +we shall still consider that our guardians and their wives should follow +the same pursuits.’ If all our modern discussion were as clean and +direct as this, we should have made greater progress in this subject by +now. Greek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> +intellectual integrity, and clarity of thought and expression, were not +hampered by a festering and obstructive legacy of what it is a libel on +a great movement to describe as Puritanism.</p> + +<p>Take a second example—the influence of occupation on character. This is +a subject which goes to the root of many of our social problems for, +till we have studied the reactions of different classes of employment, +not only on the body but on the mind, and perfected our methods of +vocational guidance, we shall still have left open one of the greatest +avenues to unhappiness. The modern inquirer will find a very interesting +adumbration of this line of thought in the <i>Republic</i>; and if here, as +in the problem of the relations between men and women, he finds +Plato’s remedies somewhat drastic, and is inclined to dissent from +his veto on actors and acrobats, let him consider the appalling extent +to which, during recent generations, the consumer has been pampered at +the expense of the producer, and ask himself how often, when he attends +a music-hall as a narcotic after a distracting day, or when he rings up +on the telephone or books a ticket at a railway office, he considers the +kind of life to which he is an accomplice in condemning those who +minister to his needs and desires. Plato believed in the value of beauty +and, being more than a mere modern aesthete, held no skindeep creed. He +knew and understood the vital significance of rhythm and harmony, of +grace and freedom, in the outward order of life as in the soul; and if +he found himself plunged down in the centre of one of our modern hives +of progress he would have some searching questions to ask. For +‘absence of grace’ he tells us ‘and bad rhythm and bad +harmony are sisters to bad words and bad nature’ and ‘we +would not have our guardians reared among images of evil as in a foul +pasture and there day by day, and little by little, gather impressions +from all that surrounds them, until at last a great mass of evil gathers +in their inmost souls and they know it not’. Has the most +widespread malady of our time ever been better diagnosed; and do not our +capitalist and socialist physicians,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> +with their merely material remedies, look very small by the side of +this commanding and convincing simplicity of statement?</p> + +<p>We have dwelt upon some of the special directions in which Thucydides +and Plato can be of help to us. Let us now turn briefly to the third of +the great triad. Aristotle is, of course, the most systematic thinker of +the three: and it is just for that very reason that the two elements +already noted in Greek political thought, the local and ephemeral and +the universal, are most closely interwoven and most baffling to +disentangle. Tutor of Alexander though he was, his mind is incapable of +stepping outside the city-state framework. His <i>Ethics</i> is half a +treatise on human nature, half a book, akin to the <i>Characters</i> of +Theophrastus, on deportment for a Greek citizen. No wonder that +successive generations of English undergraduates have failed to respond +to the human excellence or social charm, of his hero or paragon, +described as ‘the big-souled’ or ‘magnificent +man’. Similarly the <i>Politics</i> is a book in which it needs a +trained reader, already familiar with Greek life, to pick out the +universal from the particular and draw his own modern conclusions. But +when you have read, say, the first book of the <i>Politics</i> in this +spirit, when you have ruled out from what is said of the State all that +pertains solely to the City, when you have made allowance for the +hazardous biological, psychological, and sociological generalizations +(‘man is more of a political animal than bees or other gregarious +animals’, ‘he who is by nature not his own but +another’s and not a man is by nature a slave’, ‘the +state is by nature clearly prior to the family and to the individual, +since the whole is of necessity prior to the part’), based, as the +examples show, on the embryonic condition of those sciences at the time, +you have a large residuum of practical wisdom that is and will remain of +value to the modern world.</p> + +<p>Let us look for a moment at one element in this legacy, for it has +recently become a subject of much controversy—Aristotle’s +conception of the State, and of its relation to other social and +political groupings. As has already been said, Greek +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +political thought is open to criticism for unduly neglecting the claim +of the individual. Aristotle is less open to this indictment than either +of his great compeers: he does indeed allow, for certain favoured +individuals, an inner or ‘theoretical’ life, as he calls it, +remote from the concerns of the City-State and almost, except for its +excessive intellectuality, recalling the monastic ideal of the Middle +Age. But this is only for the fewest. Nevertheless it involved the +admission that behind the citizen remained the man, who might +conceivably on occasion have his rights, that ‘political +science’, as he says, ‘does not make men’, as +Thucydides regarded Athens as making Athenians, ‘but receives them +from nature and uses them’. And the justification for this taking +over of human nature by the state, this subjection of man over the whole +or part of his nature, is clearly set forth. It is that ‘man when +perfected [i. e. taken over and educated by the State] is the best of +animals, but, when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of +all’, or, as he puts it in another place, the man who does not +participate in State or city life is ‘either a beast or a +god’—more likely (as the order of the words indicates) the +former. In other words, it is law and justice, not, as Thucydides would +have it, an exaltation of the spirit to its highest power, nor, as Plato +preaches, some organic identification between the inner life of the soul +and the outward order of society, which is the basis and justification +of politics. ‘It is justice’, he says, using the word in a +strict, not a platonic or metaphysical sense, ‘which is the bond +of men in states, and the administration of justice, i. e. the +determination of what is just, which is the principle of order in +political society.’</p> + +<p>Now, with this principle clearly laid down, and with the claim of the +individual thus partially or at least implicitly recognized, it is +easier to understand Aristotle’s <i>intransigeant</i> attitude towards +the claims of associations other than the state, a point on which much +recent controversy has turned. ‘Every state’, so his +<i>Politics</i> open, ‘is an association of some kind, and every +association is established with a view to some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> +good.... But if all associations aim at some good, the state, or +political association, <i>which is the highest of all and which embraces +all the rest</i>, aims, and in a greater degree than any other, at the +highest good.’ In other words, in cases of conflict of allegiance +between the state or political association and some other form of +grouping, whether Church or Trade Union or professional or humanitarian +organization, the claim of the state must take precedence.</p> + +<p>This doctrine has been much attacked as involving an indefensible +‘State absolutism’, a denial of ‘personality’ to +lesser groups, even as a negation of the right to lesser loyalties. Mr. +Figgis, in a number of suggestive, if unconvincing, writings, has +recalled the theories of the Jesuits and other anti-state minorities and +protestants on this subject, reinforcing them from the Nonconformist and +Trade Union theories or inclinations of our own day: and a whole school +of younger ‘progressive’ intellectuals made bold to follow +him. The assault on state-sovereignty has, however, already been brought +to a standstill by the impact of fact. Strange as it may appear in an +age of sectarianism and rebel theorizing, the war revealed the truth +that the mass of mankind, now as in ancient Greece, respond at need to +the call of citizenship: that when the cry goes up summoning each and +all to the tents, it is not this or that little tabernacle but the +protecting shelter of the larger and more truly representative state +organizations to which men flock; that the sects and conventicles which +have fed the enthusiasm and provided the activity of leisure hours +cannot maintain their appeal when the whole fabric of our society is in +danger. Exclusive of those who refused allegiance on true grounds of +conscience, and the despicable remnant who shammed a similar conviction, +the number of Englishmen who definitely set allegiance to some other +political or social grouping before allegiance to the state was +surprisingly small. So little are fundamental loyalties, or the dictates +of an unanalysed common sense, affected, in this country, by fine-spun +theories and arguments.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> +But what we called commonsense views, after all, can be analysed and +ought to be analysed. And there is a very sound and practical reason, as +Aristotle knew, why men prefer the state to lesser associations. It is +because the state leaves them more free. Those who talk of +state-absolutism are ignoring the simple truth that there is no tyranny +like the tyranny of near neighbours. The smaller the group the tighter +its stranglehold over your life and activities. Groups and lesser +loyalties are highly necessary, and indeed desirable, in our modern +large-scale society; but they involve men, and especially weak-willed +and thoughtless men, in far greater dangers than their larger +citizenship. What the confessional at its worst may be to a woman, +professional or business or other loyalty may be to a man. The modern +world is full of men who have bartered away their integrity of soul to +preserve the unity of the party or the unbroken tradition of the +organization or the interests of the trade or even the existence of the +business. If the secrets of all hearts could be revealed, how many high +officials and dignitaries in Church and Party, in Trade Union and +employers’ federation, would be discovered to be thinking and even +saying in private what their lesser loyalties forbid them to proclaim in +public to their fellow-guildsmen. The state, in its larger field, may +sometimes commit terrible blunders and even crimes; but at least, in +these days of large-scale government, it does not expose its citizens to +the daily falsehoods and hypocrisies, to the insidious clogging of the +wheels of progress with the grit of petty personal considerations, which +seem inevitable in the life of the smaller groupings of men and women. +Seen in this light, the state stands out as the guardian not only of +justice but of freedom, of an inner freedom of soul and spirit with +which the professional and syndicalist attitude of mind is so often in +flagrant, if unavowed, contradiction. If all this was not visible to +Aristotle when he penned his immortal opening paragraph of the +<i>Politics</i>, he is at least entitled to the credit of having laid his +doctrine of state-sovereignty on a foundation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> +so sure that over twenty centuries of discussion from the Stoics and +Cynics, through Augustine and Dante, down to Rousseau and Lenin, have +not been able to shake it. Against Church and Soviet, as against sage +and hermit and anarchist, the territorial state still holds its own over +the whole civilized world; and the latest construction of idealism at +Geneva, misnamed though it is, is but an association of such states, far +larger indeed in average size, but of the same kind and composition as +those upon which the Greek philosopher fixed as the true object of +political study and the most effective and enduring agency for securing +a good life for civilized mankind.</p> + +<p>What are the chief and most enduring thoughts which contact with the +Greek political thinkers leaves with us? They are surely twofold, the +first concerning the material of politics, the second concerning the men +and women of to-day who are called to be citizens. Public affairs, we +feel, so far from being a tiresome preoccupation or ‘a dirty +business’ are one of the great permanent interests of the race: if +they were not too trivial or too debasing for great artists like +Thucydides and Plato, we need not fear lest they be too trivial or +debasing for ourselves. And if they are not beneath our study, neither +should they elude it by being enwrapped in clouds of rhetoric or in the +cotton-wool of sentimentality. The Greeks should teach us, once and for +all, that the common affairs of mankind are matter to think about as +well as to feel about. What distinguishes what we call a +‘good’ statesman and a ‘public-spirited’ citizen +from their less truly political colleagues is not that they have warmer +feelings—there are as many affectionate sons and loving husbands among +the tools of politics as among the elect—but the fact that by a +resolute use of the related powers of intellect and imagination they +have been able to raise their feelings on to a higher plane and to face +great issues with a mind attuned, not to the familiar appeal of hearth +and home, but to the grander and more difficult music of humanity. The +psychologists are teaching us, in the individual life, how we can +‘sublimate’ our emotions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> +when life denies them an outlet on the level of our desire, by raising +them to a higher and more rarified range of feeling and action. As we +can sublimate our love of individuals, so we can sublimate our love of +country, not quenching or denying our patriotism, but consciously +dividing and apportioning it. We must learn to preserve for our blood +and nation that precious part of our gift of service which, just because +it is intimate and of the family, cannot be offered directly to +humanity; but we must learn also the more difficult lesson of +transferring to the international stage, the arena where men, because +they are men, labour at common tasks and seek a greatest common measure +of co-operation, all these interests and loyalties which safely and +rightly belong there. This is the claim and call of the modern Caesar, +whether his separate capitals remain, as they are to-day, in London, +Paris, Washington, and the other centres of state-sovereignty, or +whether mankind can rise, if not in our own day, to the level of a +single allegiance. We shall neglect that call at our peril. For, unless +we render unto Caesar that which is properly his, unless we discard our +unthinking and divisive nationalisms, our noble sentiments will avail us +nothing and, in the civil war of the angels, patriotism against +patriotism, Mammon and Beelzebub will come into their own. In these days +of large-scale organization and mammoth syndicates, it takes a Caesar, a +multi-national government, to keep a giant trust at bay. Had the land of +Washington and Lincoln been broken up into separate governments instead +of drawn together into a single territory of United States, private +interests would have taken and defeated each government in detail, and +freedom would have vanished from the land—unless indeed, in some +conflict of devil with devil, of bank and railroad against oil and +lumber, the angels crept once more into their own. The same reasoning +applies to the smaller governments in other continents to-day. Local +patriotism is but a stripling David in face of the Goliaths of modern +commercialism. More and more men will be driven, if not by reason, then +by exploitation and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> +suffering, to learn the lesson of what is still mistakenly thought of +as imperialism until they find themselves crying out, with the apostle +of the Gentiles, who fought his own battle against nationalism, ‘I +appeal unto Caesar.’</p> + +<p>But the Greeks have a message for us not only as regards the material of +our politics but as regards ourselves. What can we do to help humanity +forward in these problems of its common affairs? The age of +Utopia-dreams is over. We know now that modern science has made the +world one place and that social salvation is not to be found, as the +early socialists imagined, by fleeing from the haunts of men and +founding some model city in a wilderness. We must make our contribution +here and now, in the drab world in which fate has set us. If we cannot +hope to turn it into Utopia, let us at least make it as much like Utopia +as we can. This, after all, is Plato’s message, even in the most +idealistic and visionary of his books. The famous passage is worth +quoting in detail:</p> + +<blockquote><p>‘Then do you think any less of our argument because we cannot +prove that it is possible to found a state of the kind we have +described?’</p> + +<p>‘Surely not,’ he said....</p> + +<p>‘Then do not compel me to show that what we have decided in +our argument could in all respects be reproduced in experience. If +we manage to discover how a state could be organized in any close +correspondence to our description, then you must allow that we have +discovered that your commands could be realized. Will you not be +content with that? I certainly should be.’</p> + +<p>‘Yes, I will,’ he said.</p> + +<p>’Then next apparently we must try to discover ... what is the +smallest change by which a state might arrive at this manner of +constitution....’</p> + +<p>‘Most certainly,’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Well, there is one change,’ I said, ‘which I +think we could certainly prove would bring about the revolution. It +is certainly neither a small nor an easy change, but it is +possible.’</p> + +<p>‘What is it?’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Now,’ I said, ‘I am at the very topic which we +likened to the greatest wave. Spoken, however, it shall be, even +though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> +it is likely to deluge me with laughter and ridicule.... Consider then +what I am about to say.’</p> + +<p>‘Say on,’ he said.</p> + +<p>‘Unless,’ I said, ‘lovers of wisdom bear +sovereign rule in states, or those who are now called sovereigns +and governors become sincere and capable lovers of wisdom, and +government and love of wisdom be brought together, and unless the +numerous natures who at present pursue either government or wisdom, +the one to the exclusion of the other, be forcibly debarred from +this behaviour, there will be no respite from evil, my dear +Glaucon, for states, nor, I fancy, for humanity; nor will this +constitution, which we have just described in our argument, come to +that realization which is possible for it and see the light of day. +It is this which has for so long made me hesitate to speak. I saw +how paradoxical it would sound. For it is given to few to perceive +that no other constitution could ever bring happiness either to +states or individuals.’</p></blockquote> + +<p>Thus far the philosopher of antiquity. His words are sometimes +interpreted as a cry for some philosopher-genius to take the task of +government out of our too feeble grasp. But that is not his message for +us. The age in which philosopher-emperors were possible has passed +beyond recall. To us Plato’s words are an appeal to become, each +and all of us, in our own sphere, lovers of wisdom according to the +measure of our ability. If we would amend the world around us—and it is +in sore need of amendment—our first duty is to eschew falsehood and to +follow truth in our own lives, in our thoughts and actions. Revolutions +spring not from without inwards but from within outwards; and it is +often when the external world seems most sick and sorrowful, when +selfishness and irresponsibility sit enthroned in the world’s +seats of government, that the power of truth is most active in the +silent region of the soul, strengthening it in order that it may issue +forth once again to impress man’s unconquerable purpose of order, +justice and freedom upon the recalcitrant material which forms the stuff +of men’s common problems on this small globe of ours.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>A. E. Zimmern.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ART" id="ART"></a>THE LAMPS OF GREEK ART</h2> + +<p>Amid the superficialities and struggles of the world around us, it is +refreshing to turn back for a moment to the mellow wisdom of Matthew +Arnold; and I will start with a quotation from <i>Literature and Dogma</i>: +‘As well imagine a man with a sense for sculpture not cultivating +it by the help of the remains of Greek art, or a man with a sense for +poetry not cultivating it by the help of Homer and Shakespeare, as a man +with a sense for conduct not cultivating it by the help of the +Bible.’ To Arnold the Bible, Homer, Shakespeare, Greek art, are +the great and eternal classics, which for all time must be the stimulus +and the models for the greatest of human achievements. Beyond doubt in +the fifty years since Arnold wrote there has been a marked drift away +from classics of every kind. To acknowledge classics at all seems a +survival of the spirit of aristocracy. We are convinced that we are +better than our fathers, and must break away from their tutelage. In +some degree this arises out of the unrest and nervous strain produced by +the great war. But it does not come only from nervous tension. It is a +definite tendency of society, which has to be considered on its merits +by all who feel called on to take a share in the world movement. We +cannot ignore those who are drifting away from the settled anchorages, +or we run the risk of being ignored ourselves.</p> + +<p>The task has fallen to me to try to give reasons why Greek art has still +a claim on our attention. Among Englishmen the appreciation of art never +has been and never can be as keen as the appreciation of poetry and +philosophy. But on the other hand I think it can be shown that in the +field of art our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> +debt to Greece is even greater than in the field of philosophy and +poetry. For in these latter we have a certain national genius, and have +produced classics recognized through Europe. But in art our achievements +have been but moderate; and at the present time a living sense of art is +probably rarer among us than in any highly civilized country except +America.</p> + +<p>I will begin with a bold assertion, which I hope to justify as we +proceed. But for ancient Greece, the art of Europe would to-day be on +much the same level as the fantastic and degraded art of India. And but +for the continued influence of Greek art, that of Europe would +continually be in danger of drifting into chaotic extravagance.</p> + +<p>In the century before the Persian wars of 500-480 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, +Greece, both Ionian and Dorian, was throwing out fresh shoots of life in +every direction, breaking through the crust of archaic convention, +producing a new standard of excellence, in poetry, in philosophy, in +history, and in art. In every province, morals, intellect, imagination, +Greece was striking out, to the right and the left. And in the century +after the Persian wars, she reaped the full harvest of her splendid +sowing, and produced the masterpieces which have remained ever since +memorable, to the study of which each generation recurs, and whence it +learns of what human nature is capable.</p> + +<p>After 400 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> there was not, as many suppose, +a sudden decline in the quality of artistic production. Many of the +works of the later centuries were in their way almost unsurpassable. The +philosophy of Aristotle, the poetry of Theocritus, such statues as the +Aphrodite of Melos and the Victory of Samothrace, are great lights for +all time. But the works of maturity have seldom the charm which marks +those which are full of the optimism and promise of youth.</p> + +<p>Ruskin has written an admirable work on the Seven Lamps of Architecture, +a work which, though it sometimes passes into extravagance, is full of +suggestion and even inspiration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> +It seems to me strange that while the economic views of Ruskin, full of +generosity, but also wanting in measure and any basis of fact, should +still be current among us, his writings on art, in which his genius had +full course, should be comparatively neglected. However that may be, as +one who has been greatly stimulated by those writings, I propose to try +to produce a faint echo of one of them by speaking successively of the +lamps of Greek art, lamps which give us light and serve to show our way. +I find in Greek art eight notable features: (1) Humanism, (2) +Simplicity, (3) Balance and Measure, (4) Naturalism, (5) Idealism, (6) +Patience, (7) Joy, (8) Fellowship.</p> + +<p>As my space is closely limited I cannot attempt to develop the subject +of Greek art in all its provinces and in all its bearings. I must limit +myself to the art of sculpture, the most characteristic branch, and the +only branch which has left us sufficient materials for the formation of +a satisfactory notion. And I must limit myself further to such of the +sculpture as represents the human form. In the representation of some +animals, such as the horse, the later Greeks produced some wonderful +examples, but in the depiction of animals other peoples have rivalled +them, whereas in the depiction of men and women they stand alone.</p> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p><i>Humanism.</i> Three great discoveries lay open to the awakened spirit of +man, when he began to realize and reflect upon his surroundings. The +first was the discovery of God, which was mainly the work of the +Prophets of Israel, though no doubt Greece added much on the +intellectual side; and the religions both of Judaea and Greece were +carried to a higher point by Christianity. The second was the discovery +of man himself, which was in all essentials the great work of Greek +thinkers and writers. The third, begun in Greece, has been carried +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +very much farther in modern times, the discovery of nature and her +laws. I think that reflection will show that of the three discoveries +the last is the least important, for though it has vastly changed the +habits and the surroundings of mankind, and has offered him long vistas +of material progress, yet it has not changed his nature much, nor added +greatly to his happiness. We know how the delights of thought, of art, +of poetry and music have overcome barbarism and given to multitudes a +new pleasure in existence. But the results of scientific progress have +not as yet done all that we might have hoped for mankind. Every great +discovery in physical science has been turned, primarily, not to the +welfare but to the destruction of mankind. The ocean-going ship is +tracked by the submarine; air-ships are used to drop bombs on +defenceless cities, some of the most notable achievements of chemistry +are poison-gases. We may of course hope that this is but a passing +phase, and that brighter times are before us. But I venture to suggest +that the true road to progress cannot be found unless we preserve the +Jewish and the Greek points of view. We must not lose sight of the +ethical and religious bearing of science, and not be content with merely +regarding it as a means of exploiting the material world. Instead of +harnessing the forces of nature to true human ends, to happiness, we +have allowed them to be used for any purpose, moral or immoral, by any +one who by cunning or pushing has gained control of them. We have +dehumanized the world, and allowed it to ride rough shod over human +life.</p> + +<p>The discovery of man and his capacities, then, is the great gift of +Greece to the world. There were epics before the <i>Iliad</i>, but no epic +full of charm, of tragedy, of tears and laughter. There were +philosophers before Socrates; but they were busied in trying to find the +physical constituents of the world. Socrates took up the motto of Delphi +‘Know thyself’, and became the progenitor of all who study +the nature of duty and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +of happiness. In the same way there was much art in the world before +the rise of Greece, in Egypt, in Mesopotamia, in Crete. But it was not a +humanist art. It represented the worship of the Gods, battles, and +sieges, the life of the fields. But the human figures in these scenes +were conventional: there was nothing in them to stir the finer feelings, +to produce a love of beauty, to raise man above the ordinary daily +level. The Greeks knew of earlier works of art; but they declined to be +seduced, as the Phoenicians and Etruscans were seduced, into a facile +imitation of them. They realized, no doubt subconsciously rather than +consciously, that they were called to set forth a new and human art, and +had in them powers which could produce it. They began a process which +developed with astonishing rapidity, and which cannot cease, unless, as +seems now not impossible, barbarism reinvades a weary world.</p> + +<p>‘Man is the measure of all things’ is the doctrine ascribed +to Protagoras of Abdera, which shocked the people of Athens and is +attacked by Plato in his more constructive mood. It is a doctrine +lending itself to abuse, and still more to caricature; but it is really +the teaching of Socrates no less than of Protagoras; and it has held its +own from his times to those of the Utilitarians and Pragmatists. +Certainly it is at the basis of the Greek view of life, in which man +with his feelings, his faculties, and his endeavours, stands in the +foreground, and all else appears as a vague background.</p> + +<p>It was quite natural that as the Greek thinkers interpreted all +experience in relation to human powers and faculties, so the artists of +Greece thought of all nature in terms of the human body. Thus while the +stern monotheism of later Israel absolutely prohibited the +representation in art of any living thing, and especially of man, Greek +artists entirely devoted themselves to such representation.</p> + +<p>The great result of the working of the spirit of humanism in Greek art +was the representation of the Gods in human form. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> +There is still prevalent among us a survival of the Jewish hatred of +the representation of the divine element in the world by the mimetic art +of sculpture. We still repeat, day by day, the Jewish commandment, +‘Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven image’. Now I am +not going to find any fault with the intense feeling of iconoclasm, +which was one of the mainsprings of Jewish religion. I have no doubt +that in the development of that religion, hatred and contempt for the +idols of the surrounding nations was of inestimable value to the race. +The struggle, ever renewed, against the invasion of idolatry was +necessary to the development of that pure prophetic religion which it +was the highest mission of the Jewish race to set forth and propagate in +the world. I would not even speak against the echoes of it in the modern +world. To the Moslems of our days, as to the ancient Jews, it appears to +be a necessary corollary of any lofty and spiritual conception of the +divine. And when we read of the destruction of religious images by our +Puritan ancestors we cannot withhold from them an inner sympathy. The +hatred of images was one side of the pure and passionate belief in +spiritual religion which it was the mission of the great Reformers to +revive and propagate in Europe.</p> + +<p>But it is possible to appreciate this side of religion without being +blind to other aspects of it. Our religion comes not only from Judaea, +but also from Greece. The Jewish passion for the divine righteousness +lies at its roots. But that passion is consistent with narrowness, +bigotry, inhumanity. For the modifications of it which come from the +working of the spirit of humanism we have to turn to the Hellenes, for +the feeling of the likeness in nature between God and man, the love of +the beauty of the created works of God, the joy in whatever is sweet, +whatever is comely, whatever is charming. The beauty and majesty of God +appealed to the Greek, as the unapproachable transcendence of God +inspired the Jew.</p> + +<p>So it fell to the Greek artists to try to set forth in marble +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +and in bronze the gentler and more social side of the divine nature. +There is a sweet reasonableness in the words of Maximus of Tyre: +‘The Greek custom is to represent the Gods by the most beautiful +things on earth—pure material, the human form, consummate art. The +idea of those who make divine images in human shape is quite reasonable, +since the spirit of man is nearest of all things to God and most +godlike.’</p> + +<p>The whole history of Greek sculpture, from its rise in the sixth century +to its decline in the third, is inspired by this desire to represent the +divine by the most beautiful things on earth. The sculpture of the great +nations of the East, Egypt and Assyria, is full of figures of the Gods, +and of scenes of worship. But these figures do not rise above the human. +The gods appear as conventional figures, mere ordinary men and women. +And to distinguish them from mortal beings, the artists of the East +proceed in the manner of symbolism: they make additions to the human +types which are to signify the divine attributes, but do not really +embody them. They add wings to represent the swiftness of the deity, +wings not meant for actual flight, but only symbols of rapid motion. +They represent them as victoriously overthrowing wild beasts and +monsters, which stand for the powers of evil, ever bent on thwarting +their action. In some of their most archaic works, the Greeks fall into +the imitation of this way. They represent Apollo flanked by two +vanquished griffins, Artemis with wings, and holding in her hands +captive lions. But their artistic sense soon revolted against such crude +and clumsy ways of representation. They began to try to represent the +divine character of their deities, not by arbitrary and external +symbols, but by modifying the human types in the direction of the ideal. +Sometimes, indeed, in later art we find survivals of early symbolism in +the form of an attribute. Hermes is still winged, but the wings are +transferred to his cap or his boots. Zeus may still carry the +thunderbolt, the symbol of his rule over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> +storm. Apollo may be still radiate, combining human form with the rays +which proceed from the visible sun.</p> + +<p>But these are only survivals, and do not affect the process, carried on +by artist after artist and school after school, by which the gods +absorbed ever more fully the qualities of the most perfect manhood. +Zeus, as father of gods and men, is an idealization of the human father, +combining justice and dignity with benevolence and kindness; Athena +becomes the embodiment of the divine reason and wisdom, perhaps the most +fully idealized of all the forms of the gods, since this armed and +victorious virgin with wisdom seated on her brow had little in common +with the secluded and domestic women of her city of Athens. Apollo has +not the muscles of the trained athlete, but in his nobleness of +countenance and perfect symmetry of shape, he stands for all that a +young man might grow towards by self-restraint and aspiration. At a +somewhat lower level Herakles bears the form of the wrestler, admirably +proportioned but more powerful than even the greatest of athletes; +Hermes is the ideal runner, every muscle adapted to swift and lithe +movements.</p> + +<p>Thus in the types of the gods which were produced when Greek art was at +its best we have a series of supermen and superwomen who represent the +highest and best to which mortals can hope to attain, types embodying +the highest perfection of body and mind. The influence of those types +has gone on from century to century, never in the darkest ages wholly +forgotten, and serving at all times to redeem human nature from foulness +and degradation. All through the history of art they have been acting as +a raising and purifying element.</p> + +<p>It was not until the decay of the Olympic religion in the fourth century +that these types fell to a lower level. The sense of beauty in the +artist remained as keen as ever, the technique of art even improved, but +the religion of humanism was debased by less noble tendencies, and the +gods took on too much not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> +the nature of man as he might become, but the form of man as he +actually is in the world.</p> + +<p>Not the forms only of the gods, but the history of their appearances on +earth and their dealings with mankind found expression in painting and +relief. Plato, as we know, condemned the myths of the gods as unworthy +from the ethical point of view. But we shall misjudge myths if we +suppose that they were actually believed in, or served to regulate +conduct. What they did was greatly to further the picturesqueness and +joy of life. And when they became less important in cultus they survived +in poetry, and served greatly to temper the harsh prose of actual life. +We must remember that some of the Jewish tales which have so much +interested and charmed our forefathers are hardly to be defended on +strict ethical principles, yet they have been a leavening and widening +influence. Who would wish to expel from churches the stories of Adam and +Eve, of Joseph and David, on grounds of ethical purism? The life of the +many is not so highly decorated that we should wish to expel from it +elements so pleasing.</p> + +<p>As the Gods tend more and more to take forms beautiful but entirely +human, so do the notable features of the landscape, rivers and +mountains, sky and sea, take on themselves human shape. Sun and moon, +wind and storm, are completely humanized. The society of Olympus, the +powers manifested in nature, appear in sculpture as a human society, but +of more than human beauty and dignity. And such rendering of the gods +leads, as we shall presently see, to an ideal rendering of men. As the +gods come down in the likeness of men, so men are raised to the level of +the gods. Hence the intrinsic and inexhaustible idealism of Greek +sculpture, to which I will presently return.</p> + +<p>Few works of art more fully and more attractively show the +anthropomorphic tendency of Greek art than the sunrise vase of the +British Museum. It shows us the whole morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> +pageant of nature humanized. On the right appears the sun-god driving a +chariot of winged horses, who rise out of the sea. Before him the stars, +represented as youths, plunge into the water. To the left is the +moon-goddess on horseback, setting behind the hills, on one of which is +a mountain-god in an attitude of surprise. Before the sun hurries Eos, +the winged dawn, who by a bold citation of mythology is represented as +pursuing Cephalus the hunter, of whom she was enamoured. We have the +features of the daybreak; but they are all represented not as facts of +nature, but in their influence on Gods and men.</p> + +<p>I do not figure this vase, as I have already done so in my <i>Principles +of Greek Art</i>; but instead I give an almost equally beautiful +representation from the lid of a toilet vase in the Sabouroff Collection +at Berlin. We have here the same three figures of the sun-god, the +moon-goddess, and the winged dawn, who, however, in this case is driving +a chariot. The form of the whole group and the radiate symbol in the +midst stands admirably for the vault of heaven (Fig. 1).</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/illus-358-9-a.jpg" width="550" height="550" alt="Fig. 1. VASE REPRESENTING SUNRISE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 1. VASE REPRESENTING SUNRISE</span></div> + +<p>Another extreme example of anthropomorphism is the embodiment of the +sustaining power of the pillar in the so-called Caryatids of the +Erechtheum (Fig. 2). Really they are Corae, maidens dedicated to Athena, +and willingly in her service bearing up the weight of the architrave of +her temple. Possibly the notion is not wholly satisfactory; but if it be +tolerated, could it have been more nobly carried out? The square and +stalwart form of the women, the mass of hair which strengthens their +necks, the easy pose, all make us feel that the task is not beyond their +strength or oppressive.</p> + +<p>Beside the Greek Caryatid I must be allowed to place a modern version, +by Rodin. For the power and the technique of Rodin I have great +admiration; but when his works are placed beside those of Greece, we +feel at once their inferiority in dignity, in simplicity, in ideality +(Fig. 3).</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 205px;"> +<img src="images/illus-358-9-b.jpg" width="205" height="600" alt="Fig. 2. CARYATID of Erechtheum" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 2. CARYATID<br />of Erechtheum</span></div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 379px;"> +<img src="images/illus-358-9-c.jpg" width="379" height="600" alt="Fig. 3. CARYATID by Rodin" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 3. CARYATID<br />by Rodin</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></p> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The second lamp of Greek art is <i>Simplicity</i>. The artist sees quite +clearly what he desires to produce, and sets about producing it without +hesitation, without self-consciousness, with no beating about the bush. +Of course the more primitive and less conventional a society is, the +easier it is for artists to be simple. In a complicated society +simplicity and directness are apt to be confused with what is +commonplace or even with the foolish. The simplicity of Wordsworth and +of Tennyson does sometimes cross the line. The Greeks had the great +advantage of coming before other cultivated peoples, so that there was +no commonplace to avoid. They could be simple, as the wild rose and the +primrose are simple. What could be more simple than the <i>Iliad</i>? The +same simplicity marks Greek sculpture. It requires no great exercise of +the intellect to understand it. It presents every figure in a clear and +unsophisticated way.</p> + +<p>As there is no more sure sign of a fine nature than the absence of +self-consciousness, so there is no more sure sign of greatness in art +than simplicity. The Greeks did not strive to be original, to make +people stare, to do the unusual. One of the most usual subjects in Greek +relief is a battle between male warriors and Amazons. Such battles adorn +many temples. And in every case they are distinctive in style. One could +not mistake a group from the temple at Phigaleia for a group from the +Mausoleum. And there is no sameness: almost every group has some point +or touch of its own, which makes it a variety on the usual theme. One +Amazon is falling from her horse, one is asking for quarter, one is +following up a retreating foe. But no group is insistent that the +passer-by should look at it. The relief was the decoration of a temple; +and if its originality drew men’s attention from the temple +itself, or from the Deity seated enthroned within, it might justly be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +accused of impertinence, of exceeding due measure. The sculptor did his +best; but he was careful to do nothing which was out of harmony with its +surroundings. He sank himself in his work. And even when he was engaged +on a more serious substantive work, what he most avoided was the +incongruous and unbecoming. He so worked that the attention of the +spectator was concentrated not on the character of the workmanship, but +on the person or the subject portrayed. The idea which he tried to +incorporate in marble or bronze was not his own thought about the +subject, but the character which really belonged to it in the mind of +the people.</p> + +<p>This singleness of purpose is well illustrated by a story about the +painter Protogenes. He painted the figure of a Satyr, and beside it, as +a trifle, he inserted a partridge. But when he found that admiration for +the lifelikeness of the partridge tended to distract the attention of +visitors from the main figure, he painted it out.</p> + +<p>No doubt simplicity implies limitation. It is not easy in any age to +strike the deepest note without some surrender of simplicity. The higher +phases of the mental and spiritual life, mysticism, symbolism, and the +like are not to be expressed with complete simplicity in any form of +art. One cannot deny that the Greek view of life was limited; that the +Greeks did not attempt to represent in art the highest aspirations of +the soul. It was an entirely perverted ingenuity which sought a +generation ago to find mystic meaning in the representations on Greek +vases. Attempts to portray the Deities of the Mysteries scarcely count +as works of art. Such figures as Sabazius, Isis, Mithras, only come into +ancient art in its decadence. I would not maintain that the modern +world, with its infinitely varied emotions, or the higher aspirations of +religions like the Christian or the Buddhist, could be satisfied with +such simple schemes as those of Greek sculpture, which appeal to human +instinct and human intelligence rather than to the more +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> +recondite emotions. Such emotions, however, in my opinion, do not find +any appropriate embodiment in the arts of which I am treating—the +graphic and plastic arts. In poetry they have at all times found a noble +expression; and in modern days a perhaps still completer expression in +music, which was in pre-Christian days in a very rudimentary condition. +But painting is but ill suited to the rendering of these vague +aspirations. And still more unsuited is sculpture, the most imitative +and objective of all the arts. The attempts which have been made in +recent years by some sculptors to give a mystic turn to their art seems +to me doomed to failure by the essential nature of sculpture. A Western +mind can have little sympathy with the art which has moved most on +mystic lines, the art of India, which in such efforts has abandoned the +search for beauty, and so given up the really artistic point of view. +Mere prettiness no doubt is an unsatisfying ideal: but a loftier beauty, +in harmony with the world around us and the soul within us, is another +thing.</p> + +<p>In order that simplicity may be in the highest degree admirable, it must +be combined with two other qualities—intense love of beauty, and the +utmost patience in execution. It must not lead on the one side to a mere +unideal copy of nature, nor on the other to a hasty and slovenly kind of +work.</p> + +<p>The figure already mentioned, the Caryatid of the Erechtheum, is a model +of perfect simplicity. For further illustration of the quality I have +chosen the bronze charioteer from Delphi, and the Artemis from Gabii, +now in the Louvre. The former (Fig. 4) is a youth of noble family, clad +in the long dress necessary to protect from the wind a man driving a +chariot. The latter (Fig. 5), a work of the school of Praxiteles, +represents a young girl fastening her dress on her shoulder. Both are as +free as they can be from any attempt at novelty or originality: yet no +one with any taste could for a moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> +hesitate to pronounce them admirable. The object of the artist was to +make works as perfect as possible. And to that end he goes straight, +without any complication, and without the least care that others may +have done similar works, against which he must assert originality.</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 224px;"> +<img src="images/illus-362-3-a.jpg" width="224" height="600" alt="Fig. 4 CHARIOTEER of Delphi" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 4 CHARIOTEER<br />of Delphi</span></div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 207px;"> +<img src="images/illus-362-3-b.jpg" width="207" height="600" alt="Fig. 5 ARTEMIS of Gabii" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 5 ARTEMIS<br />of Gabii</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>Beside the two figures I have cited I place a more modern group (Fig. +6), also by a man of genius, Peter Vischer. It has the same simplicity +and the same care in execution as the Greek works, but in beauty it will +not compare with them; and one feels regret that so great an artist +should have spent his powers on so unsuitable a subject as the rivets +and plates of a suit of armour. The lady, though not without charm, +seems artificial and affected beside the exquisite freshness of the girl +of Praxiteles.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 325px;"> +<img src="images/illus-362-3-c.jpg" width="325" height="600" +alt="Fig. 6. KNIGHT AND LADY By Peter Vischer" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 6. KNIGHT AND LADY<br />By Peter Vischer</span></div> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The third lamp of Greek art is <i>Balance and Measure</i>, the recognition of +limit and law. This is most obvious in architecture, and especially in +its most characteristic production, the temple. The form of the temple, +when once established, remained fixed, within certain limits of +variation, for all time. A most accomplished writer, M. Boutmy, has +admirably shown how all the constituent parts of the temple are related +one to the other, how a plan, a consistent rhythm, runs throughout it. +Each part has a definite function, which it accomplishes in the simplest +and clearest way. The pillars are made simply to support, and their +shape and slight decoration is in accordance with that purpose. Their +form ensures a maximum of stability. The channeling or fluting carries +the eye of the spectator upwards to the capital which swells outwards to +support the heavy straight line of the cornice. Above the cornice, the +grooves of the triglyphs carry on the lines of fluting from the columns +towards the roof. The walls of the temple are not primarily intended to +support, but to enclose the sacred<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> +cella, and are adorned only at their upper edge, as a curtain might be, +with a decorative frieze. The whole building is thought out as a home +for the statue of the deity which it encloses; and no part is allowed to +adorn itself except in subordination to this general purpose. Like the +shells of molluscs or the hives of bees, it is the direct embodiment of +an idea, a purpose, only a conscious and reflective, not a merely +instinctive purpose.</p> + +<p>The sculptural decoration, which is so striking a feature of the temple, +is also carefully subordinated to purpose and idea. No part of the +structure which bears a strain, if we except one or two early and +unsatisfactory experiments, was decorated. The business of column and +architrave was to bear weight; and if they were ornate they would seem +less well adapted to that purpose. Only in parts of the building which +were from the point of view of construction otiose, such as pediment and +metope, was the art of the sculptor allowed to play; and even then it +was bound to play appropriately to the nature of the deity within and +the festivals of which the temple was to be the focus. There was no room +for cross-purposes or disturbing thoughts.</p> + +<p>This rigidity of form and subordination to reason is as characteristic +of Attic tragedies as of temples. It would indeed be possible to work +out a close parallel between the two forms of art. But we must return to +our immediate subject, sculpture. Temple sculpture exhibits the +qualities of balance and measure in the highest degree. In case of the +pediment there is a central point, just under the apex, where the +dominant figures of the scene portrayed are placed; and on either side +of this central figure or group, figure balances figure, until we come +to the corners, which are occupied by reclining forms, dying warriors, +or river-gods or spectators. In case of the metope, the square field is +filled with two or three figures balanced about a central line, a scheme +self-contained and harmonious, which may be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> +compared to a geometrical diagram, and carries simplicity to the +farthest point.</p> + +<p>Rhythm, balance, symmetry are the translation into sculpture of the +spirit of discipline and self-control, which the Greeks learned by hard +necessity. The civilization of the Ionians in Asia is a brilliant +sunrise, an overflowing of the delight in life, in beauty, in the +exercise of all the faculties, which for a time dominated Greece itself. +And their art was joyous and free. The artists of Ionia invaded Athens +in the sixth century, visiting the luxurious court of Peisistratus, and +inspiring Peloponnesus, even Sparta, as the excavations of the British +School in Athens have abundantly shown. But the Ionians were trodden +down under the heavy foot of Persia: excess of freedom and want of +cohesion and discipline was their ruin. The Great King of Persia was +determined to trample in a like manner on Greece Proper; and he would +have succeeded but for the discipline and devotion of the Dorians. It +was the Spartans, aided by the brilliant military talent of Miltiades +and Themistocles, who saved Greece from slavery. A military caste, like +the Templars and Hospitallers of mediaeval Europe, they furnished the +backbone of the Greek army and dispersed the hordes of Asia as easily as +did the hardy Macedonians of Alexander the Great a century and a half +later.</p> + +<p>The Athenians, with their quick wits, understood whence came their +salvation, and in the early part of the fifth century the tide of Ionian +influence was turned back, and Dorian manners, Dorian dress, Dorian art, +became dominant from Thessaly to Laconia. It is precisely the Dorian +ideas of discipline, of measure, of self-control, which entering into +the art of Greece made it a noble and continuous development, instead of +a mere brilliant flash. Plato was well aware of the dangers which beset +the Athenians from their extreme versatility and want of reverence, and +he foresaw how these qualities would in the end destroy the civilization +which they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span> +had adorned. He so clearly saw this that he was inclined to prefer the +conventional and monotonous art of Egypt to the brilliant Greek art of +his own time. This is, of course, to carry ethical prejudice to the +length of fanaticism, and to transgress the very law of moderation which +inspired him. But it was only in his old age that he went thus far.</p> + +<p>This careful balance and proportion may be observed, as has often been +pointed out, in the designs of Greek vases, where the painted subject +not only is in itself a balanced scheme, but is also planned in relation +to the shape of the vases themselves. A group suitable to an amphora +would look out of place on a drinking cup. And in the cup itself the +outside requires a different treatment from the inside. The whole is +planned not merely to give free scope to the artist, but to be +appropriate, fitting, harmonious. Our first figure well illustrates this +thesis.</p> + +<p>Even in the case of substantive sculpture, figures or groups made to +stand by themselves in market-place or portico, the Greek love of +harmony, or as they would have put it, of rhythm and symmetry prevails: +ancient critics in those accounts of Greek sculpture, of which fragments +have come down to us in the writings of Pliny and Quintilian, lay great +stress on these features. They show us that whereas in early art a +merely external and mechanical balance had prevailed, in the course of +the fifth century this love of order and measure was taken into the very +being of art. Pythagoras of Rhegium, whose works are unfortunately lost +to us, made great progress in rhythm and symmetry. His contemporaries, +Myron and Polycleitus, who carried the athletic art of Peloponnesus +almost to its highest point, were celebrated, Myron for the rhythm in +motion which he infused into his sculpture, Polycleitus for the careful +balance of his athletes and the system of proportion which he embodied +in their figures. Pheidias was more essentially ideal than either of +these, as we shall presently see,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span> +but he also most diligently preserved in the Parthenon and other works +a spirit of measure and reasonableness.</p> + +<p>Measure and balance in art differ widely from mere convention. +‘Order is Heaven’s first law.’ All fine character is +formed, not by following random impulses as they arise, but by making +them conform to reason and duty, disciplining them as wild horses are +disciplined and taught to serve mankind. Horses indeed may be +over-disciplined, and by cruelty all spirit may be taken out of them. +And men may be over-disciplined, so that their impulses die away from +inanition. The Spartans were over-disciplined; and through constant +repression of natural tendencies they became mere machines, and before +long died out. But reasonable restraint imposed on strong natural +tendencies produces noble results in all spheres of activity.</p> + +<p>The same thing is true in art. Measure and discipline do not of course +make it easier to produce works of art; for in the nature of the case +discipline is at first grievous and is felt as a barrier. But for the +production of good and lasting works of art, discipline and law are +necessary. Take as an example the art which is simplest, poetry. It is +easier to write blank verse than to write sonnets. But it is far easier +to write <i>good</i> sonnets than good blank verse, simply because the +constant restraint of the form stimulates thought and invention, +prevents too great haste, exercises the ingenuity. In the same way the +somewhat rigid laws of composition of pediment metope and frieze +compelled the Greek artist to think out schemes suitable to those forms.</p> + +<p>It would not be possible to find a better example of order and balance +in reliefs than is furnished by the magnificent sarcophagus from Sidon +(Fig. 7), on one side of which is represented one of the victories of +Alexander the Great. At first sight it may seem a confused mêlée. But +when we look closer we see careful arrangement underlying the apparent +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span> +disorder. Alexander, charging from the left, is balanced by Parmenio +charging from the right: the horseman in the middle between the leaders +seems to come out of the background; and on either side of him is a +fighting group, to the left a Macedonian foot soldier fighting a Persian +on foot, to the right a light-armed Greek resisting a Persian horseman. +Two Persian archers balance one another. There are in the scene five +Greeks to eight Persians, indicating the numerical superiority of the +latter. And if we knew more about the battle we should probably find its +principal phases hinted at in the groups. The relief tells us far more +about the battle than would a naturalistic representation of one corner +of the field. The Greek artist could not work without using his reason +and his sense of order as well as his skilled hand.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus-372-3.jpg" width="600" height="358" alt="Fig. 7. SARCOPHAGUS FROM SIDON" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 7. SARCOPHAGUS FROM SIDON</span></div> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The fourth notable quality of Greek art is <i>Naturalism</i>. Painting and +sculpture, being representative or mimetic arts, are dependent for their +effects on the careful observation and loving study of nature. Probably +this is not the feature in works of Greek sculpture which would be most +conspicuous to a modern eye. And it cannot be doubted that the habit of +exact observation produced by modern nature studies, our familiarity +with such helps to sight as telescopes and magnifying glasses, our +constant use of photography, have made most of us better acquainted with +the phenomena of the world about us than were the Greeks. But compared +with the works of preceding ages, Greek sculpture must have seemed +amazingly naturalist. Even works of the archaic period, like the +pediments from Aegina, show a knowledge of the human form infinitely +more accurate than any to be found in Assyrian palaces or Egyptian +temples. There is probably always a good deal of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> +illusion in the minds of the schools which are constantly springing up, +which profess to break away from all conventions and to go back to +nature herself. To reach nature except through human senses and human +combinations is quite impossible. And any artist who determines to give +us nature merely as the photographic plate or the mechanical cast gives +it to us simply wastes his powers, and produces a result of no interest +whatever to any one. According to Pliny Lysippus professed to take +nature alone for his teacher; but in fact the works of Lysippus, so far +as we can recover or trace them, are full of most definite style. An +artist has to look at nature through his own eyes, and those eyes give +to what he sees a character based in part on his own personality. +Everything he sees is refracted in the waters of his subjectivity, from +which he cannot escape.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the whole historic course of Greek sculpture is steeped in +the study of nature; and we see as it proceeds more and more clearly the +results of careful observation. The artist had in fact opportunities for +the study of what he considered the one important group of phenomena, +human bodies, such as a modern artist cannot hope to compass. In the +baths and gymnasia where all young men of free birth spent part of their +mornings in running, leaping, wrestling, or swimming, he could daily +watch the beautiful bodies of athletes in every variety of pose and +action. He knew them as a trainer knows horses, or a fancier knows dogs. +He would have little need of a special model; but would daily observe +some fresh detail of muscles, some notable pose which he could add from +memory to his conception of the human body.</p> + +<p>But in the greatest periods of art naturalism is not predominant. Its +constantly working tendency is kept in check by noble ideas and noble +style. There is in the development of sculpture a constant approach to +nature, but nothing of the nihilism which looks on all aspects of nature +as equally fit subjects for art. The artists of the pediments of Aegina +could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> +not bring themselves to conceal the beautiful bodies of the fighting +warriors by rigid armour like that copied in Vischer’s group. Thus +we find the paradox of armed men in battle, but without armour. The +utmost pains are taken with the nude limbs. In the wonderful bronze +charioteer found at Delphi (Fig. 4), which dates from about 470 <span +class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, the garment necessary to protect the man from the +rush of air is very simply treated; but the arms and feet, which the +garment does not conceal, are wrought with marvellous accuracy and truth +to nature. It seems almost as if the artist were compensating himself +for the extremely simple work on the drapery by an almost excessively +close study of nature where it was possible. The head, on the other +hand, is typical and not individual; for in fact individual portraits +were scarcely possible at the time.</p> + +<p>This would be the place to speak of Greek portraits, if space allowed +it. I will only point out the erroneousness of the popular view, that +Greek portraits were conventional and uninteresting; and that it was the +Romans who introduced individuality into portraiture. It is strange that +a view which is utterly false should have gained such currency. It is +true that Greek portraits of the fifth and even the fourth century have +in them much of the type, and individual traits are softened in accord +with the strongly idealizing tendencies of the age. But from the third +and second centuries we have a great number of portraits which are in +the highest degree characteristic and individual, a wonderful gallery of +philosophers and poets and statesmen which for lifelikeness cannot be +surpassed. All the finest of the portraits of Romans were by Greek +artists. I can give but one example of really fine Greek portraiture, a +statue of Demosthenes of the third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +(Fig. 8). It is a portrait indeed. The long lean arms and the pose are +quite as individual and characteristic as the face with its melancholy +expression and deep lines of anxiety. We have the man from head to foot; +not as is so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> +often the case in modern statues, a portrait head set on a conventional +body.</p> + +<p>For comparison with Demosthenes I set a statue of a great modern +statesman, Abraham Lincoln, by Barnard (Fig. 9), not the best statue of +him, but one which is approved by many. It aims at truth, but only +attains caricature, by exaggerating Lincoln’s awkwardness and +angularity, the size of his hands and feet, and the anxiety in his face. +This exaggeration has been proved by a comparison with many photographs +of Lincoln, which show that he was careful in dress and by no means +wanting in dignity. The statue of Demosthenes is marvellous for truth; +but it adds a touch of pathos; the statue of Lincoln misses the truth, +through exaggerating the least pleasing features of the subject.</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 238px;"> +<img src="images/illus-374-5-a.jpg" width="238" height="600" alt="Fig. 8. DEMOSTHENES By Polyeuctus" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 8. DEMOSTHENES<br />By Polyeuctus</span></div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 188px;"> +<img src="images/illus-374-5-b.jpg" width="188" height="600" alt="Fig. 9. ABRAHAM LINCOLN By Barnard" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 9. ABRAHAM LINCOLN<br />By Barnard</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>When we want to ascertain how close Greek sculpture could come to actual +fact, we turn from the great ideal age to the Hellenistic period. +Lysistratus, the brother of Lysippus, began to take moulds in plaster +from individual faces. At the great medical school of Alexandria the +anatomy of the human frame, from which earlier ages in a spirit of piety +had shrunk, became usual: some of the great physicians, such as +Herophilus and Erasistratus, being noted for the completeness of their +study of anatomy. In the art of the third century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +we see the inevitable result of such studies in a more precise and +learned rendering of the muscles and the skin. And artists no longer +hesitated to represent bodies wasted with toil and exposure to the +weather, or emaciated with fasting. There are many such figures in our +museums, showing a marvellously close study of the forms of peasants and +old women and children. I figure one of these, preserved in the museum +of the Conservatori of the Capitol at Rome, an aged shepherdess carrying +a lamb (Fig. 10). But it will be observed that close as this form is to +the facts of common life, there is yet in it nothing repulsive. It is in +a sense a type rather than an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> +individual, a poem of nature rather than a portrait. It is parallel +to the pastorals of Theocritus. It strongly contrasts with such +loathsome figures as some modern sculptors in their exaggerated love of +fact, even if repulsive, have inflicted upon us, such as the Vieille +Héaulmière of Rodin (Fig. 11), a figure of an aged and +decayed prostitute. I know, of course, that some critics would defend +the last-mentioned work on ethical grounds, as showing how hideous the +decay of sensual beauty may become; but I venture to doubt whether +sculpture is an appropriate vehicle for a moral lesson of that kind, +because it can only represent and cannot explain.</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 211px;"> +<img src="images/illus-378-9-a.jpg" width="211" height="600" alt="Fig. 10 AGED SHEPHERDESS Alexandrian" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 10<br />AGED SHEPHERDESS<br />Alexandrian</span></div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 372px;"> +<img src="images/illus-378-9-b.jpg" width="372" height="600" alt="Fig. 11 LA VIEILLE HÉAULMIÈRE By Rodin" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 11<br />LA VIEILLE HÉAULMIÈRE<br />By Rodin</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>So we come to the fifth lamp of Greek art, <i>Ideality</i>. It is in the +idealism of their rendering of the body of man that the Greeks have +surpassed all other peoples and left an imperishable record. The history +of Greek art is the history of a search for beauty, for poetry, for +whatever can charm and delight.</p> + +<p>In the earliest sculptural works of Greece, as Lange the Dane was the +first to point out, we find not a direct imitation of the facts of the +visible world, but impressions taken from that world, stored in the +memory, and put together in accordance with subjective purpose rather +than objective law. It is indeed thus that clever children work, when in +the picture-writing of their sketch books they violate the laws of +perspective by combining separate aspects and memories of an object into +an inconsistent whole. They will not omit any peculiarity of a person +which happens to have struck them, even when in the profile which they +sketch it would be invisible. They think of a face as turned towards +them, of legs as walking past them. Every face must have two eyes, every +body two arms, whether they would be visible under the natural +conditions or not. In early Greek reliefs it is common to find the body +down to the waist<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> +full-face, the body below the waist in profile, with no transition +between the two. The well-known metopes from Selinus in Sicily are good +examples. It is a kind of procedure common to the early art of all +peoples. But the Greeks differ from other nations in this; that when +they improved away these early crudities they retained the predominance +of thought over things, of man over nature, in a word of the ideal +element in art. They regarded the body of man not, as the materialists +do, as man himself, but as a shell produced by the inner working of the +spirit, to be seen by the eyes of thought and imagination, as well as by +the bodily eyes. Hence they were always aspiring from that which exists +in appearance to that which lies behind the mere phenomenon. They +realized that nature, when she produces an individual, never wholly +succeeds, she falls short of the idea. And the artist by a loving +sympathy with the creative Spirit, may venture to improve what she has +made, to carry out her intentions more fully, to incorporate more +completely the idea. The Greek artist, appreciating and venerating the +body, tries to raise it to a higher and more perfect level. A simple +kind of idealism may be found in athletic art. In their practice of +athletics the Greeks did not, like the moderns, think only of the number +of feet an athlete could leap, or the space of time he would take to run +a distance. They thought also of his <i>form</i>, of the rhythmic and +harmonious character of his action. If an athlete showed ugly form, they +would hiss him, as they would an incompetent actor. Most of their +exercises were done to the accompaniment of the flute. In all the +statues of athletes which have come down to us, not one shows an +inharmonious development, powerful chest and weak legs, or muscular legs +and poor arms. It is more than probable that as the features of +Alexander the Great influenced the portraits of his officers and +followers, so the specially beautiful forms of some of the athletes who +were most admired, tended to create a type, something of which appears +in all the athlete figures of the time.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span> +No doubt any one who is well acquainted with Greek types and with the +forms of modern athletes will observe that the Greek physical build is +not identical with that of our days. The equable climate and the +unstrained life of the young men produced something more rounded and +fleshy than we see in the north. Our athletes are less harmoniously +built, with more prominent sinews, more harsh and wiry in type. An +American trainer who is also a sculptor, Dr. Tait McKenzie, working as +some of the Greek sculptors worked, from the average measurements of a +number of young men, has produced types of strength and beauty, by no +means exactly like the statues of Greece, but in their way almost +equally beautiful. I instance the beautiful fifth-century figures of +Greek boxers, softened by idealism, but admirable for strength and +symmetry; and the Apoxyomenos, a man scraping himself with a strigil, as +was the custom in the baths (Fig. 12). This is a work of the third +century, after the artists had imported their knowledge of anatomy into +their works, which had effects both good and bad. And beside the +Apoxyomenos I place an athlete by Tait McKenzie, produced from the +careful comparison and measurements of hundreds of young athletes of +Harvard and Philadelphia (Fig. 13). This is a work of modern idealism +produced by similar processes to those to which we owe the excellence of +Greek athletic sculpture.</p> + +<div class='c'><table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 223px;"> +<img src="images/illus-380-1-a.jpg" width="223" height="600" alt="Fig. 12 ATHLETE WITH STRIGIL" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 12<br />ATHLETE WITH STRIGIL</span></div></td> +<td align='center'><div class="figcenter" style="width: 227px;"> +<img src="images/illus-380-1-b.jpg" width="227" height="600" alt="Fig. 13 ATHLETE, by Tait McKenzie" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 13<br />ATHLETE, by Tait McKenzie</span></div></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The types of female beauty come into Greek sculpture later than the +types of male beauty. In Ionian and early Attic sculpture women appear +closely wrapped up in drapery. Pheidias and his contemporaries did not +venture to represent undraped women. They showed the beauties of the +female form not apart from, but by the help of, drapery. It was reserved +for the age of Praxiteles and Scopas to represent the Goddess of Love in +the guise of a nude woman; and Praxiteles made an apology for the +innovation by introducing the motive of bathing as an explanation and a +palliation. And even the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> +Aphrodite of Praxiteles is remarkably free from all attempt at sensuous +attraction, or self-consciousness. Solid, noble, and stately in form, +she is a type or model rather than an individual. Later sculptors, it is +true, departed from this line of simple harmoniousness, and tried to +make the figure more attractive to the average man. But it does not +become weak, and it does not become vulgar. The noble Aphrodites of the +fourth century have fixed the type of female beauty in school after +school of artists down to our own time.</p> + +<p>This ideal is perhaps for us best incorporated in the Aphrodite of Melos +in the Louvre, a work of the Hellenistic age, combining with the great +fourth-century tradition a perfection of detail and an informing life +which belong to a later time. But while most people of taste profess a +devotion to her, that devotion is usually untinged by knowledge or real +appreciation; for there could hardly be a greater contrast than that +between the bodily forms of the Goddess of Melos and those of the women +who are most admired in our days. I was almost disposed to figure side +by side the Goddess and the bodily forms which figure in our fashion +plates. The fashion plates do not represent women as they are, but as +they would like to be; they represent not the actual, but the modern +ideal. And what an ideal!</p> + +<p>Some readers may smile at the notion of taking seriously these ephemeral +productions. But no one would take them lightly who was familiar with +the facts of psychology. We well know that when certain types of women +are set constantly before the rising generation as beautiful and to be +imitated they will necessarily exercise a great influence on the future +of the race. Young men will look out for such types to admire and to +court: young women will try to resemble them. The hideous mistake in +aesthetics will exercise a constant dragging power, pulling the young +away from the light and the air of heaven towards the caves of evil +spirits.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> +Few more charming representations of young womanhood in Greece exist +than the Artemis from Gabii already cited (Fig. 5). One must confess +that the divine element in it is but slight. But what could be fresher, +simpler, more exquisitely natural?</p> + +<p>No doubt as in the case of men, so in the case of women, we must make +allowance for race and climate. A full and rotund development of +physique is far rarer in northern than in southern Europe. The English +race is taller, less solidly built, slighter than the ancient Greek. +Among us hard tendons usually take the place of solid muscles. And the +practise of athletic games by women undoubtedly tends to make them in +some respects conform more to the male type. In moderation physical +exercises may improve health and strength without tending to deprive the +vital organs of nourishment. But the overtrained woman is farther from +the healthy life of nature than the overtrained man. And whether the +overexertion be of the body or of the intelligence, it tends to destroy +true womanliness.</p> + +<p>It is a pity that some sculptor does not do for the ideal of womanhood +what Dr. Tait McKenzie has done for the ideal of athletic manhood. Of +course the process would not be the same. No one wants an ideal type of +the female athlete, unless we wish to restore the race of Amazons, but +we do sorely need to have before our eyes types which embody the +physical ideal of efficient womanhood. At present while nude womanhood +in art conforms in a great measure to the Greek tradition, clothed +womanhood follows the types of the street, modified by the baseless +caprices of fashion. The two stand in unreconciled contrast. The Greeks +when painting women on a vase often drew their figures in outline before +they added clothes. But any one who tries to draw the outline of the +female figure beneath the clothes on a fashion-plate will stand aghast +at what he has produced.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span> +Cicero repeats an instructive story in regard to the painter Zeuxis, who +lived about 400 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> He was commissioned to make +for the people of Croton a painting of Helen of Troy. He first inquired, +what seems to have been a matter of common knowledge, who were the most +beautifully made young men in that city, which was noted for its +athletes. He next asked that he should be allowed to study the forms of +the sisters of these men, judging that the sisters must partake of the +beauty of the brothers. Out of these he selected five girls for more +continued study, and by such aid produced his picture. We cannot suppose +that he would be so clumsy as to select at random beautiful details from +each of the five; in that way he would produce only an eclectic +monstrosity. But, working in the presence of beautiful examples, his +sense of beauty would rise in tone to the highest of which he was +capable.</p> + +<p>In this story several points are noteworthy. It shows that the type of +beauty in men was more advanced and more generally recognized than the +type of beauty in women. And it shows the Greek artistic mind ever on +the watch to catch some new note of beauty to add to the traditional +stock. Professor Brücke, in his excellent work on the beauties of the +human form, observes that in the ideal statues of Greece many features +may be discovered which in the actual world of men and women are very +rare, but the charm of which can scarcely be disputed. There went on +from school to school, and from period to period, a sort of accumulation +of beauty which was ever increasing. Every beautiful model which was +studied added something to what Brücke calls the stock of beauty at the +disposal of artists.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>The sixth lamp of Greek art is <i>Patience</i> in striving after perfection. +In the finer work of Greek sculptors one finds an utterly ungrudging +expenditure of time and care which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> +reminds one of the working of Nature herself, Nature who is never in +a hurry, who is never contented with a hasty sketch, but works +regardless of time. We are told of Protogenes that he spent seven years +on a single figure, and I think he would have spent seven more if he had +thought that he could thereby have improved his painting. Nothing +strikes one more strongly in such works as the charioteer of Delphi and +the Hermes of Praxiteles than the pains taken with every detail. It is +by careful work, continued through successive generations, that +sculpture attained such mastery in the representation of the muscles of +the body as we find in the Borghese fighting figure of the Louvre, and +such delicacy in the rendering of drapery as we find in the Victories of +the Balustrade at Athens, or the Victory of Samothrace.</p> + +<p>But the delicacy and minuteness of Greek work is of course most obvious +in the reliefs of coins and in gems. The coins were not primarily meant +to please the eye, but to circulate in the fish-market; yet a multitude +of the dies are so exquisitely finished that they lose little when +magnified to many diameters, and will bear the most critical +examination. The intaglio gems were meant for the sealing of documents, +the seal taking the place of the modern signature; but the figures upon +seals are in their way as finished as great works of sculpture. Seals +even more usually than coins gain rather than lose if they are enlarged. +Yet they were executed without the help of magnifying glasses. Their +subjects are taken from the widest field, the figures of deities, tales +from mythology, portraits, animal forms; like the coins they introduced +as an undercurrent to the prosaic life of every day an element of poetry +and imagination.</p> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p>The seventh lamp, which goes as naturally with idealism as care and +patience go with naturalism, is joy, <i>joie de vivre</i>. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> +Keats has expressed the Greek sense of art in an immortal line, +‘A thing of beauty is a joy for ever’. It was the +overflowing gladness which lies at the root of creation and evolution +which took eternal form in the painting and sculpture of the Greeks and +inspired all their works. The same irrepressible joy which gives colour +to the flowers, sweetness to the fruit, song to the birds, and sexual +desire to mankind reached here one of its most perfect manifestations. +The life of the Greeks was by no means one of unmixed happiness. Each +city was not unfrequently at war with its neighbours; and the penalty of +complete defeat was sometimes the razing of its walls, the slaughter of +its men, and the enslavement of its women. Disease, even plague, +constantly ravaged the land; and the resources of modern surgery and +modern anaesthetics were not present to curb their ravages. The life of +the majority in country huts, and still more in the slums of the cities, +most of all in the mines, was rougher and more sordid than is the case +in the modern world, in countries in their normal state. And the people +had not even that hope of a blessed hereafter which sustained the people +of the Middle Ages. Yet under all these clouds, their spirit was hopeful +and aspiring. And their art reflects ever the brighter side of things. +Surely they were wise and right. We seek out works of art not to foster +pessimism but to inspire optimism, not to show us the world of nature on +its repulsive side, but to reveal to us how much underlying beauty is to +be found in it. ‘’Tis life not death for which we pant, More +life and fuller that we want.’</p> + +<p>At the same time, Greek art in some forms was extremely serious and +keenly alive to the darker side of existence. The Greeks invented +tragedy, the poetical reflection of the severity of fate. Would any +modern audience be found, which would be prepared to sit for a whole +summer day listening eagerly to the grand expression by such poets as +Aeschylus and Sophocles of the power of Nemesis, the instability of all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span> +prosperity, the misfortunes which hunt those who have the ill luck to +displease the gods? Surely not. And not in Greek tragedy only, but in +elegiac poetry and in epigram, we find perfect reflections of our most +gloomy moods. But for such expressions of sorrow and despair the Greeks +felt that sculpture, and even painting, were not suitable vehicles. They +belong to moods, and are not suitable for illustration in the market +place and the temple. The roads which led to Greek cities were +frequently bordered with monumental tombs. If in the reliefs and +inscriptions of these tombs there had been any telling echo of the +sorrow and regret of bereaved survivors, every one would have entered +the cities in a black mood. As it is, as every one who has been in the +museums of Athens knows, the sepulchral artists carefully avoided +anything which might harrow the feelings. They represented the dead at +their best, engaged in victorious warfare, or in athletic sports or in +the happy family circle. A gentle air of melancholy could not be +avoided; but there was nothing to shock, nothing to oppress the spirits. +The deceased represented seemed still to share the occupations and +pleasures of the living, not to be shut off from the world of happiness.</p> + +<p>Milton has expressed, in his magnificent prose, the profound joy of the +world of the Renaissance at the recovery of the Bible, and free liberty +of reading it, after it had been shut away from the laity by the +organized Church. Equally intense, and more exuberant, was the delight +of scholars and artists, when the asceticism and pessimism of the Middle +Ages, which had given birth to such bodies as the Carmelite monks and +the mendicant friars, gave way before the revival of Greek literature +and art. The world seemed suddenly to have renewed its youth. No doubt +the sudden expansion led to foul excesses; but it was yet a great +landmark in human progress.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span></p> +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p>The eighth light of Greek art is <i>Fellowship</i>. Perhaps there is no +quality in it which is more instructive for our days than this. The +extreme individualism which is the most remarkable characteristic of +modern times lays the utmost stress on the right or the duty of an +artist to express <i>himself</i> in his work, to work out his own vein of +originality, to give to the world a rendering of his own qualities and +individuality. And no doubt no great artist can help doing this in a +measure. When he works he must be himself; he can only see the world +through the medium of his character and talents. And as every man is a +microcosm, a reflection in miniature of the great world of human beings, +what is really good and original in an artist must appeal to something +in the human world; must have a meaning for people of a certain class or +a certain training, or a certain country. But whether an artist is the +better for a conscious attempt thus to externalize his personality; +whether he is improved by being self-conscious and reflective in his art +is a different question.</p> + +<p>Scarcely any feature of Greek art is more impressive to a student than +its continuous and uninterrupted course. When once it has started it +does not turn back, but goes forward steadily, for a time rising +superior to difficulty after difficulty, attaining a higher and higher +level, then in the fifth century branching out in various directions +into styles and groups, then going on with great technical skill, but +with a loss of inspiration. It is a course of evolution as steady as +that of any kind of plant or animal. This shows that it did not depend +upon the rise of successive men of talent or genius, each of whom was +intent on expressing himself; but upon the rise and influence of +successive artistic schools, each of which did not merely follow the +personality of a founder or teacher, but stood for a phase in the +development of the common life<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span> +of the Greek people. The schools were Ionian or Dorian, Attic or +Argive, and harmonized with the whole civilization of such fractions of +the race. Ionian art went with the gay and pleasure-loving ways of the +Asiatic coast. Dorian art reflected the restraint, the balance, the +self-control of the people of Peloponnesus. Attic art not only conformed +to the refined taste of the people of Athens, but suited also the strong +mental bias of the most intellectual city which ever existed. Of course +these schools did not flourish in complete isolation one from the other; +city influenced city and artist artist; but in a far less degree than +would be the case now. A school of sculpture was a species; and all the +individuals of the species were more like one another than they were +like any of their contemporaries outside.</p> + +<p>Thus when we examine any work of Greek sculpture, before the eclectic +schools came into being, we find it easy to determine its period, often +within narrow limits, and we are usually able to assign it with +confidence to a particular school, imperfect as is our knowledge of the +history of Greek art. But we can scarcely ever say that it is the work +of an individual artist, unless it stands on a basis bearing the +author’s name, or unless ancient critics and historians have left +us detailed descriptions of a work which survives. I am speaking of +Greek originals; the copies of earlier works made by Greek artists of a +late period for Roman galleries are often so confused in style and so +careless in execution that they serve only to mislead, even if they have +escaped the Italian restorer of recent date.</p> + +<p>Great and connected series of statues and reliefs, such as constitute +the sculptural adornment of such temples as that of Zeus at Olympia or +the Parthenon or the Mausoleum, are the joint productions of a number of +sculptors who worked together, no doubt under the general supervision of +some architect or chief mason, but probably under very little control. +Such works combine considerable variety in execution with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> +a general similarity so great that a superficial observer does not see +their differences. Public opinion in London seems to hold that Pheidias +made the whole of the pediments and the frieze of the Parthenon; though +in some cases contiguous figures are so markedly various amid the +general likeness as to prove separate hands. In the case of the +Erechtheum at Athens there is extant a long list of payments to a number +of artists for the several figures of the frieze. There was no general +contractor, no artist who hired his masons by the day, but every man who +produced one of the figures in relief was paid for it sixty drachmas, +without regard to its difficulty or its simplicity.</p> + +<p>It is comparatively easy to get a set of skilled stone-masons to carry +out with exactness a plan of which all the details are worked out for +them, and which requires only faithful copying. And it must have been +easy for a set of Egyptian sculptors who made their figures according to +a rigid conventional pattern to produce a uniform result. But for a +number of skilled workers who were allowed great liberty in detail to +produce an harmonious whole was infinitely harder. And that the Greek +masons regularly accomplished this result shows how strong upon them was +the influence of the school. Nor did they merely work from nature; but +their production was of an idealizing kind. It is clear that they must +have had not merely similar tools and similar mechanical processes, but +the same purposes and ideals. They must have had what we should call a +collective personality. It is more than probable that among the workers +on the Parthenon were Alcamenes and Agoracritus, two sculptors who rose +to great fame. It is certain that among the workers on the Erechtheum +was Praxias, a pupil of Calamis, and probably a relative of Praxiteles. +The distinction between artist and mason, so marked in our day, scarcely +existed in Greece. The mason who had talent became a noted sculptor; and +the sculptor, instead of making a model in wax or plaster, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span> +set to work, like Michelangelo, on the block of marble himself. +Probably sometimes, like Benvenuto Cellini, he cast his own bronze +statues.</p> + +<p>Generally in all great periods of art there is such fellowship. And in +sculpture in particular the design and the execution are so closely +connected that it is an abuse to assign the two functions to different +men, and even to different classes of men. Greece was pre-eminently the +land of productive guilds, of families of artists, of groups of workers +who were of one heart and one spirit, and who therefore worked in one +style. One of the closest parallels to a Greek school of sculpture is to +be found in the group of Pre-Raphaelite artists of the middle of the +last century, Morris, Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Millais, Collins, and their +companions. This group had a religious or ideal starting-point in the +revived Anglo-Catholicism which arose in Oxford at the time, and they +had principles of art in common which they embodied in their work. Their +paintings, before they diverged one from another, form a distinct +species, and have an interest for the historian of civilization greater +than that of any other English school.</p> + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p>In order that we may estimate the influence of Greek art on the +civilization of Europe, it is necessary briefly to trace its +reappearances through the ages. Its first conquest was Rome. The +victorious Roman Generals, Marcellus, Scipio, Flamininus, Mummius, and +others, brought to the imperial city, to adorn their triumphs, an +immense quantity of Greek sculpture and paintings, of which they robbed +the great storehouses of works of art in the temples and stoae of +Hellas, Sicily, and Asia Minor. The earlier Emperors, especially Nero, +followed their example, so that in the time of Pliny the naturalist all +the public places of Rome were crowded with sculptures of bronze +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> +and marble and with the painted masterpieces of great artists. It +became fashionable for wealthy Romans, such as Hortensius and Cicero, to +stock their country-houses with such works. Even so, the demand was not +satisfied; and Greek artists were imported into Rome, where they set up +great workshops, and poured out an incessant stream of fresh works of +art. Of such our modern museums are full. Generally speaking they are of +little artistic merit, copies of various degrees of excellence of the +great works of earlier generations. For the Roman plutocrats had little +taste. Because certain figures or groups had a great reputation, and +especially because they had been purchased at a high price by Greek +cities and kings, the Roman collector liked to have copies of them in +his villa; and the artists who produced these copies were mere workers +for hire, without originality and without aspirations. Sometimes when +employed on such works as the Arch of Titus, or the Column of Trajan, +the novelty of the theme stimulated the artist to attempt something of a +more original kind. And occasionally the fire within took course and +produced a finer work than ordinary. Under the art-loving Emperor +Hadrian there was a sort of St. Martin’s summer of sculpture; but +its productions were smooth, elegant and refined rather than original or +interesting. The charm of art was not appreciated by the Roman people; +only the few who professed cultivation really cared whether a figure was +good or bad, and even the few were a little ashamed of their +preferences.</p> + +<p>Into the Roman Empire, in the first three centuries of our era, +Christianity gradually ate its way. It originated among the Jews, to +whom all representation of living things was hateful. And it developed +under the influence of Greek oriental mysticism, which had no kinship +with sculpture and painting; and so far as it had any expression in +those arts worked in the direction of that symbolism against which Greek +art was a protest. Thus we could not expect any fresh +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span> +inspiration for art from early Christianity; on the contrary, +Christianity would work upon it as a blighting influence. If we examine +the remains of Christian art in those early centuries, in sarcophagus +and mural painting, we find that it merely copied the contemporary pagan +art, only changing the subjects portrayed, and introducing a further +development in the symbolic interpretation of ordinary scenes.</p> + +<p>Christianity offered almost no field for the exercise of Greek +anthropomorphism. The latter was closely bound up with polytheism and +hero-worship. The Christian Apostles and Saints, who took the place of +the pagan Deities, were men who had lived on the earth and whose deeds +belonged not to mythology but to history, although at the time the line +between history and mythology was not clearly drawn, and history was +largely diluted with myth. A few impersonations of nature, such as +river-gods, lingered on in the paintings of the Roman catacombs. And +winged genii were common there, whether cupids or cherubs it would be +hard to say. But there was no realm into which artistic fancy could +stray, filling it with super-men and super-women. Angels might be +portrayed; but they all came from the Jewish angelology; and there was +no artistic tradition as to their types: it was only later that the +types of Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and others were distinguished.</p> + +<p>The second principle of Greek art, balance and symmetry, had almost +disappeared in pagan art in the Antonine age. The reliefs of triumphal +arches and of sarcophagi are crowded with figures inserted without order +or method. Even the mural paintings of Pompeii have escaped from +control; and show no purposeful arrangement. Law and order have given +place to individual fancy, unless in cases where earlier schemes are +adopted. And with artistic arrangement has disappeared all attempt to +idealize, to produce forms nobler and more beautiful than those seen +every day. The figure of Antinous is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> +latest in which we find any attempt to produce a type of ideal beauty. +Even the Virgin Mary and her Son are depicted without any attempt to +render them beautiful. Nor indeed does naturalism fare better than +idealism. The representation of the human body is no longer studied. The +figures are clothed: and the clothing is purely conventional, while the +features of the landscape are far less carefully introduced than in +Hellenistic Greek art.</p> + +<p>In fact one feels that the artist had little interest in his art. Scenes +from the Old and the New Testament are the usual subjects. But the +depiction is little more than picture-writing, mere copies of +traditional groups. The only thing regarded as of any interest is the +meaning. The ethical and spiritual point of view overlies and smothers +any interest in the representation.</p> + +<p>And this predominance of the didactic element over the sense of +proportion, the love of beauty, the appreciation of nature prevails more +and more as Europe slowly moves towards the dark ages. The lamps of +Greek art burn more and more dimly. They are never wholly extinguished; +for in all ages there are born artists to whom they are the light of +life; and in mediaeval carvings one finds here and there a touch of +humanism, most often in grotesque or satyric figures. We must never +forget that some of the later masterpieces of Greek work, such as the +Column of Trajan and the Arch of Beneventum, were always to be seen. And +little as they were appreciated by ordinary people, an artist here and +there derived from them some appreciation of the beauty of humanity.</p> + +<p>Then in the thirteenth century the dry bones began to come together. The +breath of fresh life stirred Europe, or at least parts of Europe, such +as North Italy, Southern Germany, Eastern France. The magnificent Gothic +Cathedrals rising in the north called forth the talent of the painter +and the sculptor for their adornment. A great Christian art arose, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> +and in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries flourished widely. +Certain qualities of high art it certainly had. It was lighted by the +lamp of fellowship. The sculpture was the work not of individuals, but +of guilds, groups of workers of the same style, and inspired by the same +motives. It attained to great beauty in decoration, in the adaptation to +architectural purpose of the forms of plants and flowers. Where it was +most defective was in the rendering of the human form, whether nude or +draped, for in such matters the artists had no schooling to be compared +with that of the Greeks.</p> + +<p>When the full Renaissance came with the dispersion of the educated +Greeks through Europe, there was a conscious reawakening of the artistic +influence of Greece, contemporaneously with the revived interest in +Greek literature and philosophy. A few great works of ancient sculpture, +the Laocoon, the Dying Gaul of the Capitol, the Apollo Belvedere were +discovered; and collections of ancient gems and coins were formed by +many of the wealthy. We can judge from the life of Benvenuto Cellini how +profound was the effect produced by such discoveries. The great Italians +of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries felt as if they had climbed out +of darkness into light. To rival works of Greek art was looked upon as +the highest ambition which an artist could cherish. Sculptors so great +as Donatello and Michelangelo took the scanty remains of Greek +masterpieces as their models, and measured their attainments by the +degree of success which they reached in copying them. The lamps of Greek +balance and symmetry, Greek idealism, and Greek naturalism were +rekindled, and the crowd of artists vied one with another in walking by +their light.</p> + +<p>We may mark four stages in the rediscovery of Greek sculpture. The first +is the Italian Renaissance already mentioned. The second originated in +the visit of Winckelmann to Italy in 1755, and the application by Goethe +and Lessing of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> +his discoveries to the judgement of contemporary art. It tended greatly +to the raising and purifying of the artistic taste of Europe. The +splendid promise of the Renaissance had degenerated into the mannerism +and extravagance of Bernini and his contemporaries. Winckelmann called +it back to simplicity, to self-restraint, to ideality. But before long +this teaching also was perverted; and such sculptors as Thorwaldsen and +Canova were misled by the defects of the inferior examples of Greek +sculpture, which were the only ones accessible to Winckelmann, into a +slavish copy of the antique or works of an artificial grand style. Then +came the third wave of revived Greek influence, when the sculptures of +the Parthenon found a home in London, and critics were able to observe +how infinitely superior the masterpieces of a really great age were to +the copies of Roman times and the adaptations of the Hellenistic age. +When Haydon the painter first saw the Parthenon marbles he was immensely +impressed; but that which struck him most strongly was not the ideality, +for which they have since become proverbial, but the wonderful +naturalism of much of their detail in contrast to the grandiose +conventions of his contemporaries. The fourth stage in our knowledge of +Greek sculpture comes from the very fruitful excavations on Greek soil, +especially at Athens, Olympia, and Delphi, which have shown us how +widely varied is the range of the ancient sculptors, how many their +styles, how admirable their technique. This extension of our knowledge +has not, it is true, as yet much affected contemporary art, as art was +affected by the teachings of Winckelmann and the publishing of the +marbles of the Parthenon. Until last year there was no book in English +setting forth the results of the excavations of Delphi; and there is +even now no book in English performing the same service for the +excavations at Olympia. Sculptors are so little educated in the history +of their craft, that they do not easily learn from new sources of +knowledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> +But by degrees, beyond doubt, the new views of Greek art will filter +down to them. A few recently discovered sculptures, such as the +Charioteer of Delphi, the Hermes of Praxiteles, the bronze head from +Beneventum in the Louvre, the Demeter of Cnidus, have by their +overpowering charm affected artists and art. And most sculptors profess +a great admiration for Greek works, notably Rodin, who, although the +tendency of his works is not in a classical direction, yet uses the +strongest language in praising the Greek masterpieces. But in general +the tendency of art towards extreme individualism and the search after +novelty have more than counteracted the somewhat shallow admiration of +sculptors for what is antique.</p> + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p>At present religion and culture alike are struggling against the waves +of barbarism reinvading. It is not my business to speak here of the +forces which are trying to crush religion among us. But I may fitly +conclude by sketching some of the tendencies against which culture based +upon that of Greece is our best antidote. If I have rightly set forth +the principles of Greek literature and art in past pages, the nature of +their influence under present conditions will be clear.</p> + +<p>I must venture on a parallel which seems to me very suggestive, though +some readers may regard it as risky. There are two great standards set +up in the past, to control the wayward fanaticisms of men, and to keep +them within the bounds of reason and good sense. The standard in +religion is set by the New Testament: the standard in art is set by +Greece. As at the Renaissance the peoples of Europe went back for their +inspiration and their models to the literature and the art of Hellas, so +at the Reformation they, or at all events the Teutonic races, went back +to the early records of Christianity, appealing to them against the +venality and corruption of the dominant<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span> +Church. And ever since, at intervals, there has arisen, alike in the +field of culture and in that of religion, an echo of the appeal to the +classical past. It is to the New Testament that Apostles like John +Wesley and George Fox made their appeal, setting up in opposition to the +conventions and worldliness of the Church in their times the +spirituality and simplicity of the apostolic age, just as Goethe and +Lessing turned men’s minds from what was contrary to reason and +good taste in their surroundings to Greek beauty and simplicity. And +however some of the followers of Wesley and Fox may have gone beyond due +bounds towards fanaticism, yet in every branch of the Christian Society +the influence of those modern prophets has been renovating and +purifying, just as the schools of critics which followed Goethe tended +greatly to increase among us sweetness and light.</p> + +<p>In our schools and colleges, until quite lately, the religion of the New +Testament and the tradition of the Greek and Roman Classics have gone +together, the one preserving us from superstition and materialism in +religion, the other making war upon the inherited barbarisms and +brutalities which we have from our not very distant ancestors. The +spirit of anarchy in religion would persuade us that there is no divine +sanction for goodness and no eternal stamp on vice, that morality is a +matter of convention which every society and every nation has a right to +invert if it judges such inversion in the line of its interests. The +spirit of anarchy in art proclaims that all the works of nature are +equally beautiful or equally ugly, that nothing which exists is unfit to +be represented in our galleries and public places, that so long as a +picture or a statue arouses a sentiment it does not matter whether the +sentiment be one of delight and aspiration or one of horror. If once the +idea of beauty as the end to be aimed at be expelled from art, art sinks +like a stone to the bottom of the sea. Some people are ready to tolerate +any monstrosity in art, however remote<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span> +from nature, however offensive to decency, however repugnant to +humanity. The whole artistic inheritance of the race from the day when +men began to climb out of barbarism is liable to be thrown away by an +age which has unbounded confidence in its own wisdom.</p> + +<p>I should, however, be sorry to stop at this point, for I might leave on +readers the impression that I am in favour of the mere imitation of +works of Greek art. That is by no means my view. In the last century +several sculptors, overpowered by the charm of the antique, produced +statues which closely followed ancient patterns, such as the Hope and +the Hebe of Thorwaldsen, some of the statues of Rauch and Schadow, and +the tinted Venus of Gibson. Such works were necessarily stillborn; they +had not in them any breath of the life of a new age, any attempt to +conform to changed conditions. Very different was the following of the +antique by Michelangelo. He admired with enthusiasm such works of the +Greek chisel as he knew; but he produced not dull and academic +reflections of them, but works of the most splendid originality and the +greatest charm. He imbibed not the letter but the spirit of Greek art; +and even succeeded better than most artists in combining that spirit +with a breath of Christianity.</p> + +<p>The parallel which I have drawn may be carried farther. A reversion to +the letter of the New Testament writers has been often attempted by +considerable religious leaders of our time, especially Tolstoi and the +Quakers. They have gone back to the injunctions of the Sermon on the +Mount, and tried literally to abide by them. But it has become apparent +to all but fanatics that such procedure would be fatal to civil +government and civilized life. It is the spirit not the letter of the +teaching of Jesus which is life-giving. In just the same way an +acceptance of the mere externals of Greek art would not help us at all; +but a revival of its spirit would be a great inspiration to modern +artists. The lamps of Greek art will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> +give light in any age. Greek idealism, Greek balance and measure, Greek +love of what is natural and healthful, Greek simplicity and moderation +are of the very essence of good art in all ages. We can no more revive +the exact conditions under which art arose than we can import into +England the clear air, the bright sun, the clear-cut shadows of the +Greek landscape. But we can still look up to the philosophy, the poetry, +and the art of Greece as classical, as a revelation of what is most +pleasing and most enduring in human nature. And if we neglect them and +reject them from the education of our children, we shall destroy what +has been ever since the Renaissance the source of pure joy and refined +feeling in the majority of cultured men; we shall make a great gap which +material prosperity, a deeper knowledge of the secrets of nature, the +invention of fresh modes of amusement, can never fill. And if we trust +merely to the reflections of the Greek spirit in modern literature and +art, we shall be acting as the Roman Church in its darker ages has +acted, in shutting away from the people recourse to the primary +documents of religion, and obliging them to be content with such +interpretations of those documents as the ruling hierarchy judged to be +useful. We must retain the right of appeal to our classical examples, +whether in religion, in literature, or in art. Arnold was right. The +Bible, Homer, Shakespeare, Greek art remain the stars by which we may +direct our course over stormy seas.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>P. Gardner.</p> + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ARCHITECTURE" id="ARCHITECTURE"></a>ARCHITECTURE</h2> + +<p>Nobody has ever disputed the beauty of Greek Architecture. We recognize +the justice of a description of the Parthenon as ‘le suprême +effort du génie à la poursuite du beau’; but the layman must +sometimes ask himself what does it mean? Where did it come from, where +did it go to, why is it thought so beautiful, how was it that this +people relatively insignificant in power, in territory, and in numbers, +was able to attain to this astonishing supremacy in art? These are +questions not easily answered. The evidence is fragmentary and not +always conclusive, the ruins of a few temples and buildings, a technical +treatise by a garrulous third-rate writer in the first century <span class='lc sc'>A. +D.</span>,<a name="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> +the anecdotes of an indefatigable collector<a name="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a> +a little later, the notes of a traveller in the second +century,<a name="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a> +and the materials collected by the patient research of scholars and +archaeologists, pieced together on more or less ingenious hypotheses. +Indeed, a great part of what is written on Greek Architecture is simply +hypothesis. There is not much to go on, yet Greek Architecture (and by +this I mean the architecture of the sixth and fifth centuries <span +class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) remains one of the great outstanding facts in the +history of the Architecture of the Western world, and the Art of the age +of Pericles is the fountain-head to which artists still return.</p> + +<p>Where that art sprang from, and how it grew, is largely a matter of +speculation. There have been legends of civilizations wiped out in +tremendous cataclysms that left no trace behind them. Vague suggestions +are made that the cradle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span> +of the race was in Asia. All we know for certain is that the earliest +civilizations of which actual historical evidence remains are those of +Chaldea and Egypt, and that the art of these countries reached a high +degree of attainment long before we come upon the earliest traces of art +of any sort in Greece. That both these countries contributed in varying +degrees to the art of Greece is certain, but that is not the whole of +the story. As we shall see, another element comes into play, which made +of that art almost a new creation, differing in outlook and ideal from +any art that preceded it, stamped by the genius of a vigorous northern +race with a character all its own. The art of the East and the art of +the West never really fused. There is a difference in kind between the +joyous vitality of pure Greek art, and the gloomy vision of Asia, with +its craving for the vast and terrible, its sombre imagination, its lack +of humanity and indifference to the individual.</p> + +<p>It is not, however, till far down in the progress of history that this +differentiation asserts itself. Greek art is relatively a late +development. The Great Pyramid at Ghizeh was built some 2,000 years +before a stone was laid of the masonry of Mycenae. The Hall of Columns +of Karnak, with its columns sixty feet high, was probably coeval with +the Treasury of Atreus: in other words, when the art of Greece and of +the islands was scarcely out of the barbaric stage, a wonderful art had +been in existence across the Mediterranean from time immemorial. Both +Egypt and Chaldea attained a high degree of civilization long before the +Dorians were ever heard of. At some remote period the Egyptian influence +penetrated to Crete and Cyprus, the islands of the Aegean, and the +mainland of Greece; and the intermediaries were the Phoenicians, that +enterprising race of merchant adventurers, whose home was in Syria, and +whose fleets traversed the Mediterranean from East to West. The +Phoenicians were traders and not artists. In Egypt they came into +contact with a highly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span> +developed art, beyond their comprehension in its essential features, +yet including details which could easily be apprehended by their quick +commercial intelligence. Wherever they touched on their voyages, Cyprus, +Crete, the southern islands of the Aegean, the mainland of Greece, the +south of Italy, Sicily, Carthage, the Balearic islands, Spain in the far +west, they probably carried with them, for trading purposes, minor +articles of Egyptian workmanship which may have supplied hints to the +indigenous peoples. Where they established settlements, they reproduced +what they could recollect of the methods of Egyptian architecture, +possessing at second-hand a knowledge of technical methods in advance of +anything within the knowledge of the people among whom they settled. +Rudimentary anticipations of the Ionic volute are found in Phoenician +capitals, vague reminiscences of what the traders had seen in Egypt and +elsewhere. Moreover, the Phoenicians, who possessed the skill of sailors +in the use of tackle, would have had little difficulty in handling large +stones set dry in more or less regular courses, which was a +characteristic feature of Cretan and Mycenaean building. It is too soon +to describe the work as architecture. It is doubtful if the Phoenicians +possessed any aptitude for the arts. Their rôle was that of +intermediaries only.</p> + +<p>Obscure as was the part played by the Phoenicians in the early origins +of art in Greece and the islands, there was another channel through +which Eastern influences came to bear on its development, which is even +more uncertain. To the west of Chaldea and north of Syria, dwelt a race +of which little is known, the Hittites. Carchemish, their capital, was +on the upper Euphrates, north-east of Antioch, and their power appears +to have extended westward through Asia Minor to the shores of the +Aegean. Dr. Sayce says that in the thirteenth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +it extended from ‘the banks of the Euphrates to the shores of the +Aegean, including both the cultured Semites<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> +of Syria and the rude barbarians of the Greek Seas’, he even says +that the Hittites ‘brought the civilization of the East to the +barbarous tribes of the distant West’. What actually remains of +Hittite art hardly bears out this statement. When the Hittite power was +at its height, Minoan ‘art’ had long been practised in +Crete, and according to the most popular chronology, had already passed +its prime and given way to the art of Mycenae and Tiryns. The scanty +evidence of Hittite art consists of bas-reliefs of figures and animals +cut on the face of rocks along the natural caravan routes through Asia +Minor from East to West. This and the evidence of seals and engraved +gems show that Hittite art was derived first from Chaldea, later from +Egypt. It undoubtedly exercised some influence on the art of the early +Greek settlers on the eastern side of the Aegean, and gave it an Asiatic +cast, which it never lost throughout all its later developments. For the +Greeks of Asia Minor never really understood the austere ideal of Doric +art. Ionian art crossed westward to Greece, but the Dorian never went +east. It was the art of a strong northern race, that found no place for +itself among the softer peoples of Asia Minor.</p> + +<p>At this point we can take up the first rudimentary beginnings of Greek +art. The discoveries of the last forty years have proved the existence +in Crete and Cyprus, Southern Greece, and the islands of the Aegean, of +an archaic art of obscure origin, of very great interest, and of +remarkable attainment in certain directions, long before the earliest +beginnings of what we mean when we speak of Greek architecture. So far +as architecture is concerned, this archaic art is of relatively minor +importance. It plays a small part, if any, in subsequent developments, +and though enthusiastic explorers claim to find in it anticipations of +the details of modern domestic architecture, the evidence produced is +unconvincing. Great movements in the arts always owe some debt to the +periods that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> +have preceded them, but Minoan and Mycenaean art, at any rate in +regard to architecture, was rather the last word of a decaying +civilization than the first herald of the glorious art of Greece in the +sixth and fifth centuries <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> We are still +far back in remote ages, remote that is so far as Greek art is +concerned, anywhere between 2000 and 1000 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> or even +earlier,<a name="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a> +back in the Minoan age of Crete with its rudimentary architecture, and +its relatively high excellence in the crafts, and in the age of Mycenae +and Tiryns, the age that produced the Lion Gate at Mycenae, and that +strange half-barbaric work, if I may be pardoned the term, the Treasury +of Atreus. It is worth pausing to consider these archaic buildings, not +so much to show a relationship to later work (which scarcely existed), +as to call attention to the fact that the Minoan and Mycenaean builders +were moving unconsciously in a direction that would never have led to +the column and lintel architecture of the seventh and sixth centuries +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> It might have led to some form of dome +construction, it could never have led to the Doric of the Sicilian +temples. No stronger evidence of the genius of the Dorian invaders could +be produced than that, with this unpromising art in possession, they +were yet able in the course of three or four centuries to create Greek +architecture. The design of the Lion Gate is a strange jumble of +ill-adjusted motives. It is set in a wall of great stones roughly +squared and laid dry. Two monolith jambs support a huge lintel, cambered +in the middle like the tie-beams of our sixteenth-century roofs. Above +the lintel the courses are gathered over, leaving between their lower +faces and the top <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span> +of the lintel a triangular space of a steep pitch (about 60°), in +which was inserted a frontispiece carved on a single stone representing +two lions standing up on either side of an archaic column supporting a +fragment of a rudimentary architrave.<a name="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a> +The heraldic pose of the lions and the technique of their sculpture, so +suggestive of Assyrian reliefs with their splendid sense of muscular +form and energy, are far ahead of an architecture that is still +barbaric, scarcely architecture at all. There is here nothing to suggest +the Doric of Paestum and Selinus, much to recall the megalithic +buildings of Syria, and the sculpture of the farther East.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 443px;"> +<img src="images/illus-400-1.jpg" width="443" height="600" alt="Fig. 1. LION GATE, MYCENAE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 1. LION GATE, MYCENAE</span></div> + +<p>The Treasury of Atreus is still more remarkable, not only because it +shows more skill in building, but because its design is based on a +structural motive which seems to have been wholly abandoned by the +successors of the Mycenaean builders. The Treasury of Atreus (or Tomb of +Agamemnon) was excavated in a hill, and consists of a long passage about +120 ft. by 21 ft. wide, with retaining walls of megalithic masonry on +either side, terminating in a great entrance doorway. This doorway is +flanked on either side by columns tapering downwards, and decorated with +chevrons in a manner very similar to Norman work of the eleventh +century, and apparently intended solely for ornament.<a name="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a> +The entrance opened into a circular domed chamber about 48 ft. 6 in. in +diameter, 45 ft. 4 in. high, out of which opened another smaller +chamber. The dome, in section, is built on the curve of a parabola, +formed with courses projecting over one another, and not set out radial +to the curve of the dome—in other words it is not a true dome or +arch, but a succession of corbels. The internal face of the dome is +dressed down, and was covered with ornament of some sort, whether metal +rosettes,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span> +or enamelled terra-cotta, or wholly in metal, possibly the famous gold +of Mycenae, is not known. The whole of this chamber was covered in with +a mound of earth, in accordance with the primitive custom of concealing +the chieftain’s grave. It is impossible to find, in this extremely +interesting monument or in the domed chamber of Orchomenos in Boeotia, +any trace of future developments in Greek architecture. Both in +intention and in its psychological background it seems almost as remote +from the Doric Temple as the Great Pyramid itself. In point of fact +architecture was still in a rudimentary stage. It has been proved +abundantly that Architecture comes late in the sequence of the Arts. +People could draw well, long before they could design. Among the +cavemen, for example, there were admirable draughtsmen, but they had to +make their drawings on the sides of caves. That there existed in the +Minoan and Mycenaean ages skilful potters and metal-workers, is shown by +the vases of Knossos and the gold cups found at Vaphio near Sparta; that +they built habitable buildings and decorated them to the best of their +ability is also proved, as, for example, the palace of Tiryns, but it +has not yet been shown that their builders reached the degree of skilled +design, at which building becomes architecture. Architecture had not yet +found itself in Greece.</p> + +<p>Then somewhere about 1000 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> came the Dorian +invasions, and the art of Crete and Mycenae vanished into +space—possibly the legend was right which said that the conquered +people of the mainland carried it away with them to Asia. Anyhow, the +three or four centuries following the Dorian invasions are a blank which +future research may fill out for us, and so far as art is concerned, +there appears to have been a <i>détente</i>, during which the new race +was settling down to its conquest, finding itself, and assimilating +something at any rate of the older civilization. The survival of such +buildings as the Treasury of Atreus show that the Dorians were not +simple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span> +barbarians, destroying all that came in their way. Even Sparta in its +earlier days was not a mere military machine. Discoveries made in 1906-9 +suggest that from the ninth to the seventh centuries <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> Sparta had +some sort of an art of its own showing traces of Asiatic influence in +its pottery—a little later Sparta concluded an alliance with +Croesus, King of Lydia, and Bathycles, an artist of Magnesia in Ionia, +was treated with honour in Sparta. The Dorians were something more than +fighters, they seem to have possessed some sort of civilization, and to +have been endowed with a natural capacity for the arts, which after two +or three centuries of experiment will find its own splendid expression +within very definite and original lines. The legend of the return of the +Heracleidae was to be justified by their later history. No merely +imitative race could have evolved the perfect manner of the great Doric +temples from the scraps of Egypt and the East, and the rudimentary +buildings of Crete and Mycenae.</p> + +<p>Greek architecture for the purpose of this study is Dorian architecture, +and its elements are simple. It was evolved in the design of their +temples, and with the exception of their theatres it was summed up in +these temples. From the period during which Greek architecture was being +built up to its maturity, say from the seventh century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +to the completion of the Parthenon in the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, +the whole life of the Greek was coloured and dominated by his religion +and its observances; and his religion was not the sinister mystery of +Egypt, but on the whole a cheerful open-air Pantheism that gloried in +the life and beauty of the visible world in which he lived. He himself +was content to live in a poor house, so long as he had his market-place, +his ceremonial theatre, and the glorious temples of his Gods. Moreover, +to whatever depths the Athenians may have sunk in the time of St. Paul, +in the heroic days of Pericles they were remarkable for constancy of +purpose and the steadfastness of their ideals. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span> +stood on the ancient ways, and it never occurred to them to abandon the +tradition of their fathers, their business was to carry it forward to +perfection. The result was that the architecture of their temples +proceeded on lines that long use had made sacrosanct; and its technique +is summed up in the history of two orders, the Doric and the +Ionic.<a name="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></p> + +<p>Now, the order, its character, dimensions and disposition, with the wall +of the Cella (or enclosed shrine) within the colonnade, summed up the +elements, the vocabulary, if one may so put it, of Greek architecture; +and we come here at the outset on a curious quality of the Greek genius, +and one that differentiates it from the Roman. The properties of wood +and stone as materials are clearly different, things can be done with +the one which are impossible with the other; but the Greeks either did +not realize this or did not trouble their heads about it. They found +that the post and lintel was a simple means of building, and they +adopted it as their permanent method of construction. If the span became +too wide, they thickened the posts (the columns of Paestum are 7 ft. in +diameter) and increased the strength of the beam (the architrave). Hence +the vast solidity of the Doric order of the temples of Sicily and Magna +Graecia. The Greek was incurious about construction <i>qua</i> construction. +He found, in the column and the lintel, means perfectly adequate to +realize his ideal of high unalterable beauty, and he was content. The +Romans, who for a time were satisfied with these simple methods, became +impatient of the constructive limitation of the post and lintel. They +wanted to cover in great spaces,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span> +and to leave the floor unencumbered; and concentrating on this they +arrived at the arch, the vault, and the dome, and so became the greatest +builders of the world. To them, the orders were a mere appanage of +decoration, which they never properly appreciated, of which they mistook +the intention, adopted the worst elements, and often enough made a gross +misuse. The Greeks took another line. They adopted the column and lintel +once for all as the only possible method of construction, and devoted +all their labours to the incessant refinement of this type, eliminating +the unessential, arriving by constant selection at the most perfect +expression of their purpose, and their purpose was not that of the Roman +and the modern architect, mainly utilitarian, it was directed entirely +to the aesthetic appeal, the appeal to the emotions through beauty of +line, of form, and in a less degree of colour. ‘The whole fabric +of Greek art goes to pieces when it is brought into contact with a +purely utilitarian nation like Rome.’<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a></p> + +<p>Of the two orders, the Doric and the Ionic, the Doric seems to me the +purest embodiment of the true Greek spirit, in its faultless form, and +its austere restraint and rejection of the unessential. It was, +moreover, the order <i>par excellence</i> of the Greek temple of the +mainland. The Erechtheum was the only Ionic temple of first-rate +importance in Greece, and the employment of the Ionic order in Greece +was confined to interiors and minor buildings. As for the Corinthian +order, the favourite order of the Romans, it was scarcely recognized by +the Greeks. In all their great temples, in Greece, in Sicily, and Magna +Graecia, they used the Doric order.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus-406-7.jpg" width="600" height="261" alt="Fig. 2. TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE AT PAESTUM" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 2. TEMPLE OF NEPTUNE AT PAESTUM</span></div> + +<p>How this order was arrived at we do not really know. Ingenious +conjectures have been made as to its origin in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span> +wooden construction, and though some of these conjectures are more +probable than others they leave us pretty well where we were in regard +to the stages by which it reached its final form. It has been suggested +that the Doric column originated in the wooden post of the earliest +temples, such as are supposed to have existed in the Heraion at Olympia. +The square post would have its angles taken off, and become an octagon, +and the further elimination of the angles would gradually produce a form +nearly circular in plan, in which the arrises of the chamfered angles +would remain, and this might easily suggest to artists so sensitive as +the Greeks, their further refinement and definition by a slight hollow +between the arrises which would constitute the flutings of the Doric +column. Its derivations from the Minoan and Mycenaean columns seems most +improbable. There are two essential parts in the Doric column, the shaft +and the capital (the Greeks did not use any base for this order). The +Minoan columns taper downwards instead of upwards, an utterly +unconstructional form, and though in the palace of Knossos and at Tiryns +columns of this shape appear to have been used to carry lintels, the +stone columns on either side of the entrance to the Treasury of Atreus +at Mycenae were used for decorative and not for structural purposes. On +the other hand columns of great massiveness tapering upwards had been +used long before in Egypt; and though there is evidence against it, it +still seems probable that the suggestion of the shaft of the Doric +column may have come from Egypt. We first find it in Greece in the +seventh century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> at the period when +Psammetichus I (671-617 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) opened Egypt +to Greek trade and settlement. The Greek colony of Naukratis on the west +side of the Nile delta was founded by Milesians about 650 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> and by the middle of the sixth century +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> definite trade relations were established +between Naukratis and the mainland of Greece. The Greek settlement at +Daphnae on the eastern arm of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span> +Nile appears to have been founded at about the same time as Naukratis, +in both cases with the sanction and encouragement of the Egyptian king. +The earliest Doric temples in Greece, Sicily, and Magna Graecia date +from the end of the seventh century and early part of the sixth century. +The nearness of date makes it probable that the shaft of the Doric order +had its origin in the Egyptian column seen by some quick-witted Greek +when trading in Egypt. When we come to the capital of the column, the +rôles seem to be reversed, for we find nothing in Egyptian +architecture to suggest the echinus moulding under the square abacus of +the Doric column; whereas the Mycenaean column had a rudimentary capital +which may have suggested the idea of the Doric capital. But the notable +thing about it is that when we first come across the Doric capital in +Sicily and Greece, it is already far in advance of anything that had +gone before it in Greece, and it is quite different from the columns of +Egypt. In the Doric temple of Corinth (650-600 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) +the columns have already reached the type form, the tapered shaft with +its entasis or slight convex curvature in outline, its massive solidity +(the ratio is one of diameter to four and a quarter of height), and the +bold parabolic curve of the echinus moulding under the abacus of its +cap. In this form, the Doric column was an absolutely fresh note in +architecture. Archaic though they were, these columns at Corinth show +that the Greeks were already on the track of those refinements of form, +those optical corrections and compensations, which differentiate Greek +architecture from that of any other race. The exaggeration in the +entasis of the archaic column disappears, its tapering was diminished, +its height increased, and the overhang of the capitals reduced, till in +the Theseion (465 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) and the Parthenon (450-438 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) we reach the final inimitable type. The +column, which at Paestum was not much over four times the height of its +correct diameter, is now over five times, the great overhanging +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span> +capitals are reduced to reasonable dimensions, the depth of the +entablature is diminished, the axis of the column is slightly inclined +inwards to give the impression of stability, the shafts have the slight +curve or ‘entasis’ just sufficiently marked to prevent the +outline of the column looking incurved; the lines of the stylobate, or +continuous base, on which the columns stand, and the entablature which +they carry, have a slight rise toward the centre in order to correct the +impression of the lines sinking in the middle; the columns at the angles +are thickened, because standing free with the light all round them they +would otherwise appear smaller than the columns standing against the +background of the building. Nothing was left to chance; every aspect of +the building, the relation of every part to the whole, and of the whole +to its part, was studied profoundly, so that there should be no failure +in its perfect harmony. Except in Egyptian architecture, and there to a +much smaller extent, nothing like this had been done before. What the +Greeks did, was to formulate a rhythmical architecture, in which each +part stood in a definite and considered relation to the whole, so that +even in their ruined state these Doric temples give an irresistible +impression of a great idea, a great architectural epic, in which each +detail, however beautiful, was subordinated to the unity of the +conception as a whole. It is this abstract quality which lifts Greek +Doric so far above the ambitious art of later ages, and indeed above all +but the very finest work of any period of architecture.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus-410-1.jpg" width="600" height="280" alt="Fig. 3. DORIC TEMPLE, CORINTH" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 3. DORIC TEMPLE, CORINTH</span></div> + +<p>Many attempts have been made to discover the secret of this wonderful +perfection of proportion. That the Greeks had a system of their own, +that they worked to definite ratios of dimension and number, and +employed graphic methods of determining their proportions, such as the +use of triangles and the like to determine the limits of their designs, +seems certain. But no contemporary account of any such system remains; +and all the explanations that are given are <i>ex post facto</i>, made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span> +by theorists analysing existing buildings, not by architects designing +new ones. Some four or five hundred years later Vitruvius compiled a +treatise on architecture, in which, following the doctrines of the +school of Alexandria, he expounded a Greek theory of proportion on the +basis of the human figure. Vitruvius is obscure, and does not seem to +have been certain himself whether the proportion of the parts of a +design were to bear a relation to the whole, analogous to that of +members of a human body to the body as a whole, or whether the +proportions of the order were to be taken from the actual proportions of +the human body; and he complicates the position by reference to the +‘perfect numbers’ of the Greeks. But here again he was +uncertain whether the ‘perfect number’ was ten or six. After +which, and having, in his reference to the human figure as the canon of +proportion, unwittingly set a trap for the scholars and artists of the +Renaissance, he drops the subject and digresses into a general +classification of temples, with formal rules for the placing and +dimensions of columns, which have formed the staple of treatises on +classical architecture ever since. One should speak with gratitude of +the labours of Vitruvius, because, after all, his is the only technical +treatise left us on the subject; but he applied to the pure Greek +temples a system evolved centuries later by critics and theorists; he +was thinking chiefly of Roman versions of Greek architecture, and he was +more interested in technical rules and precepts for the use of +architects than in that abstract beauty which was all the Greek cared +for. No classification, however laborious, will reach the mystery of +Greek architecture. Its beauty is too subtle to be reduced to any +formula.</p> + +<p>The Doric order reigned supreme throughout the great period from the +sixth till the end of the fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +It failed with the failure of the high ideals of Athens. Other forces +came into play to which it no longer responded, and later Greek critics +even found fault with the Doric order<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span> +for certain ‘mendosae et inconvenientes +symmetriae’;<a name="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> +but that order, the true symbol of the sons of Heracles, was one of the +most momentous contributions ever made to the art of architecture. It +was the keynote of Greek architecture throughout its finest period. +Later it was superseded by the Ionic order, and when Rome became +paramount in the western world, that, in its turn, yielded its place of +pride to the Corinthian order, opulent, luxurious, a little vulgar, a +true register of the lowering of the sense and standard of beauty that +followed the downfall of Athens.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, on the other side of the Aegean, the Ionic order was reaching +its perfect form through a similar process of systematic thought on a +type definitely adopted. The Greek colonies in Asia Minor were of very +early origin. Legend attributed their foundation to the earlier +inhabitants of Greece, driven out by the Dorians. By the sixth century +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> the Greek colonies were well established +on the west and south-west coasts of Asia Minor, and had evolved their +own characteristic architectural idiom in the Ionic order and its +column, more slender than the Doric, with its moulded base and its +strange characteristic capital, unsuitable from the constructional point +of view in stone or marble, yet ultimately attaining the exquisite +beauty of line and modelling of the capitals of the Erechtheion at +Athens. Two things seem fairly certain as to the origin of this capital; +first, that it was derived from the wooden horizontal head-pieces fixed +on posts to reduce the bearing of the primitive wooden lintels; and, +secondly, that the first suggestion of the volute reached +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span> +the Ionian Greeks from the East. A crude anticipation of the volute is +found in Phoenician work, and it also appears on a Hittite relief at +Boghaz Keui in the middle of Asia Minor. Its origin in either case was +oriental, and we have here the other motive in Greek architecture, +Eastern, at any rate exotic, and, as compared with Doric, almost alien +to the true Greek genius. Yet this astonishing people gave it a form as +far removed from its barbarous originals, as the Doric capitals of the +Parthenon from the capitals of the columns of Mycenae, and when the +Greeks of both sides of the Aegean drew together after the defeat of the +Persians, the Ionic order crossed the sea, and assumed a place of honour +in the temples of Greece, still, however, with rare exceptions, in +subordination to the Doric order. In the colonies in Asia Minor, the +supremacy of the Ionic order had long been recognized. The Ionic temple +of Hera at Samos, 368 ft. long by 178 ft. wide, is supposed to have been +built at the end of the sixth or early in the fifth century <span +class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>, and this was the forerunner of the great +fourth-century temples of Ionia, built when Architecture had changed its +direction and Hellenistic Art was beginning its adventurous career.</p> + +<p>With these two orders as the terms and idioms of expression the Greeks +built up the architecture of their temples. Their plans were the +simplest possible. The rudimentary type was a simple chamber or cella, +with a loggia open to the air except for two columns standing between +the two extremities of the side walls, which terminated in pilasters +known as ‘antae’.<a name="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a> +The next stage was to bring the colonnade forward,<a name="FNanchor_135_135" id="FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a> +stage number three repeated the column at the other end of the +building,<a name="FNanchor_136_136" id="FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> +stage number four continued the colonnade along the +sides,<a name="FNanchor_137_137" id="FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a> +stage number five doubled the colonnade on all +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span> +four sides,<a name="FNanchor_138_138" id="FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a> +and stage number six retained the outer rows of columns but omitted the +inner row along the sides, leaving a wide passage-way all round the main +building.<a name="FNanchor_139_139" id="FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a> +Vitruvius gives a further classification by the spacing of columns which +will be found in all the handbooks of classic architecture. With minor +variations in detail, these types remained constant for the temples of +Greece and Rome. The principal alterations occurred in the extension of +the temple proper, at the expense of the surrounding colonnade. In the +Archaic temples, such as the older temples of Selinus in Sicily (sixth +century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), the portico and colonnade +occupy three-quarters of the site. In the temple of Hephaestus +(Theseion) at Athens (fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>) +the cella occupies only a little more than half the total area, and in +the Parthenon, built some twenty years later, the size of the cella is +still further increased. Most of these temples were covered in. +Hypaethral temples, in which the cella was open to the sky, are +mentioned by Vitruvius, and it is probable that some of the larger ones +at any rate were partly open to the sky. But how the openings were +arranged is almost entirely a matter of conjecture. The roof used was of +a very flat pitch, one of height to four of base, later it was even +flatter, and this dictated the slope of the pediments. This roof covered +the whole of the building, that is, both the cella and the colonnades on +either side of it, and as the Greeks were ignorant of the principle of +the triangulated truss built up of beams in compression and tension, +they were at a loss to know how to carry their roof without pushing out +their walls. Hence the great solidity of their buildings, and the rather +clumsy expedient of the colonnades in the interiors of temples which +appear to have been the only means they could think of to carry the +roof. One has to bear it in mind in thinking of Greek architecture, that +the Greeks were not constructors in the sense that the Romans were; they +built well, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> +best of their masonry was extraordinarily skilful—only by unusual +skill in the cutting and setting of stone could they have carried out +the delicate curves in the columns and other parts of their +buildings—but construction, in the sense of the invention of new +methods to meet difficult conditions, did not interest the Greek, and +one cannot help thinking that the Greeks may have been more successful +with the outside of their buildings than with the inside. It seems clear +that they devoted most of their attention to the external elevations. It +is not really known for certain how they lit their temples, though of +course all sorts of suggestions of top-lighting have been made. It is +possible that in some cases they were lit only from the principal +entrance, and it is certain that the Greek did not want for the interior +of his temple any such floods of light as are necessary under our +northern skies. In the first place, he enjoyed a most brilliant and +penetrating light, so that within his colonnades reflected light was +amply sufficient to show the friezes and other ornaments, and he did not +hesitate to use strong primary colours to heighten and explain their +effect, wherever he found it necessary. In the second place, within the +shrine itself, other considerations came into play. A certain luminous +atmosphere, rather than positive light was what was aimed at, and the +deep shadows of these internal colonnades might have helped this effect, +adding to the mystery of the figure of the God.</p> + +<p>This, too, may be the explanation of what must strike an architect as an +anomaly of design, the Greek habit of placing enormous figures in the +interior of their temples. The Greek, in his own way, was a very +religious man. In his temple, he was doing his utmost to set forth the +majesty of his God, and if it was necessary for this purpose he was even +prepared to sacrifice his principles as an artist, to ignore the scale +of his interior and the rhythmic harmony of his design, by the +introduction of gigantic figures. The eye judges by what it +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span> +knows, and the readiest way of arriving at some idea of the size of a +building or a monument is by relating it to the normal size of the human +figure. Vitruvius, in his confused way, suggested that the human figure +was the canon and standard of architectural design, but how is it +possible to determine the scale of a building which contained a figure +at least six times the size of a man, reaching from the floor to the +roof? The chryselephantine figure of Zeus at Olympia, made by Pheidias, +is supposed to have been some thirty-five feet high, and to have reached +nearly to the roof, passing the double tier of columns and the gallery +above the aisles of the cella. Moreover, this god was represented as +seated on his throne, so that by no possibility could it have been in +scale with the building so far as the architecture was concerned. Even +the gigantic temple of Zeus at Agrigentum with its external columns 61 +ft. 9 in. in height, and large enough for a man to stand within one of +the flutings of the columns, could hardly have stood up to figures on +such a scale as this. Such a violent contrast in scale broke the +principle of <span class='t' title='symmetria'>συμμετρια</span>, that +strict relation of the part to the whole which the Greek artists +maintained elsewhere with scrupulous care. Artists with such a +consummate sense of proportion as the Greeks possessed would hardly have +made a mistake here, and the conclusion one comes to is that where their +religion was in question, everything had to give way. Indeed, one can +imagine the tremendous effect of this colossal figure seen dimly in the +half-light of the cella, filling the whole temple with its presence. The +same anomaly in scale occurred in the Akropolis at Athens, where the +vast figure of Athene Promachos must have reduced the beautiful +Caryatides of the Erechtheum to insignificance. M. Choisy makes a +gallant effort to show that this want of relationship in scale, and also +in the siting of the temples, was deliberate and considered. As a fact, +the general rule that seems to have been observed in the time of +Pericles was that new temples should always be built on +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> +the site of the older ones,<a name="FNanchor_140_140" id="FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a> +but axis lines were neglected, and even the masses of the Propylaea, +beautiful building as it must have been, did not balance. The Akropolis +was just a collection of unrelated buildings, and in the great Temenos +of Delphi the various monuments were all +anyhow.<a name="FNanchor_141_141" id="FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a> +The Sacred Way meandered about like an <b>S</b>, and the only method it +observed was to clear the various treasuries and shrines which appear to +have been scattered about within the enclosure, with a disregard of each +other little less than brutal—a rather suggestive symbol of the +internecine rivalry of the small Greek states. At Delphi, also, there +was a huge figure of Apollo Sitalkas said to have been seventeen metres +high, which must have been hopelessly out of scale. The fact was that +Greek architects of the fifth century had not yet arrived at the +conception of the city as a whole. They had an admirable eye for a site, +for example, the position of the Parthenon itself, and the temple of +Hera Lacinia at Agrigentum placed high above the sea, but it is +unhistorical to invest even the architects of the Parthenon and the +Propylaea with a knowledge and outlook which was not thought of till a +hundred years later. Even the Greek architects and sculptors of the +fifth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> were not omniscient, yet within their limits, in +their mastery of what they set themselves to do, the artists of the age +of Pericles remain unapproachable, and theirs was the Golden Age of +Architecture. They had fixed for all time essential elements of the art, +and had set up a standard of attainment in pure form which no subsequent +architecture has ever been able to reach.</p> + +<p>The fall of Athens closed this splendid chapter, but Greek +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span> +architecture was by no means done with. The Silver Age, the Hellenistic +art that followed, is of intense interest. With the rise of the +Macedonian monarchy the stage of history shifted from the mainland to +the Ionian colonies on the coast of Asia Minor. Cities such as Ephesus +and Miletus became immensely prosperous, Mausolus of Halicarnassus, the +Attalids of Pergamon, possessed wealth that would have been unimaginable +to the Greeks of Marathon. The City State, fighting desperately for its +existence, inspired by high ideals of patriotism and religion, was a +thing of the past. These Greeks of Ionia were well content to enjoy the +comfort and prosperity of a settled civilization without having to fight +for it; and the whole atmosphere of their existence must have been +different from the strenuous life of Greece in the fifth century. +Moreover, the Ionian Greek, influenced, even if subconsciously, by the +spirit of Asia, was by temperament unable to maintain the intellectual +level of the Doric architecture of the mainland; and a difference +appears in the whole orientation of art, in sculpture perhaps even more +than in architecture. The history of Hellenistic art has yet to be +written. It has been described as decadent, and it was undoubtedly +responsible for some very poor stuff, but it also produced the +‘Victory’ of Samothrace, one of the finest things ever done +in sculpture, and some very remarkable developments in architecture. It +is not to be judged by the standards of the art that preceded it. The +Ionian Greek of the fourth and third centuries <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> +broke away from the tradition of the mainland, a tradition always rather +alien to his instincts. His interest lay less in a somewhat impersonal +religion than in the assertion of his own individuality. He did not +understand the lofty patriotism, and the high ideal of abstract beauty +that had inspired Pericles and his artists in the Akropolis; indeed, +there is a curiously modern feeling about much of his work, which became +more marked as he came under the dominance of Rome. The individualism, +the realism, the revivalism, and the commercialism +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span> +of modern art, were all anticipated by the Hellenistic artists of +Ionia, of Rhodes, of Alexandria, and of Athens itself in the Roman +period. Civilization was becoming more complex, and one finds this +reflected in Hellenistic art, at once more florid than the Doric of the +fourth century, yet also more skilful in its handling of complicated +problems of planning and design. No one wanted archaic simplicity when +the wealth of Asia was flowing into the treasuries of the Ionian states, +and the expression of this opulent ease is found in their magnificent +temples, such as the third temple of Artemis at Ephesus, of which the +outer colonnade measured 342 ft. 6 in. by 163 ft. 9 in., or the vast +temple of Apollo Didymaeus at Miletus, 165 ft. wide by 360 ft. long out +to out of the colonnades; or the amazing monument of Mausolus of Caria +at Halicarnassus, or the great altar of Pergamon. Fragments of the +columns of the Temple of Artemis, now in the British Museum, tell of its +size and richness, they also give the first hint of the downfall of art +and civilization which was to follow centuries later. The Greeks of the +great period had kept the structural parts of their building free of +ornament. It would never have occurred to them to interfere with the +lines of the column in any way that would contradict its purpose; but +the Greek architects of Ephesus not only placed their columns on +pedestals (making them so far less stable in appearance), but they +adorned the lower part of their Ionic columns with figures, of admirable +execution, but perfectly inappropriate in the position they occupy. One +cannot imagine Pheidias making a mistake such as this. Splendid in +execution as Hellenistic sculpture often was, it won its place at the +expense of architecture; one looks in vain for that selection and +restraint which give its undying distinction to the earlier work.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus-416-7.jpg" width="600" height="248" alt="Fig. 4. TEMPLE OF THESEUS, ATHENS" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Fig. 4. TEMPLE OF THESEUS, ATHENS</span></div> + +<p>The Greeks of the fifth century realized that architecture is an art +with a definite purpose other than that of a mere vehicle for sculpture, +and that it makes its aesthetic appeal by its own inherent qualities of +rhythm, and proportion, spacing,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span> +mass, and outline. Though they used sculpture and colour to heighten +and intensify the effect of their architecture, they saw very clearly +the function of the arts in relation to each other, and kept their +sculpture and their colour in strict relation to the aesthetic purpose +of their architecture. It is a point on which later architects went +lamentably astray. A great deal of early Renaissance work is mere +ornamentation of buildings, indeed in buildings such as the Certosa of +Pavia the architecture has almost ceased to exist; and most of the bad +architecture of the last fifty years is due to the deplorable fallacy +that ornament is architecture. The columns of Ephesus, the sculpture of +the altar of Pergamon, brilliant as they were in technical +accomplishment, were the first hint of that decline which was in time to +undermine the whole fabric of the Arts. Architecture was deposed from +its high intellectual dominance. It tended more and more to become a +conventional affair, and it was an easy transition from the exuberance +of Hellenistic art to the point-blank vulgarity of Roman ornamental +architecture.</p> + +<p>It was, however, inevitable that the fine simplicity of Periclean art +should vanish with its ideals, and one finds a certain compensation in +the extension of the range and outlook of architecture, which we owe to +the Hellenistic architects of the fourth and succeeding centuries +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> So far as perfection of form was concerned, +it was impossible to carry the art beyond the stage to which Ictinus and +Callicrates had brought it; but there still remained something, and +something very important, to be done. Axial planning, the consideration +of the relation of building to building, seem to have been outside the +consciousness of Greeks of the fifth century, and each building was +treated as an unrelated unit. But the inconvenience of this, its loss of +opportunity, and the necessity of order and method, must have become +apparent, as civilization became more complex and more exacting. By the +end of the fourth century <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span> the tradition +of architectural <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span> +technique was firmly established, and architects were able to turn +their attention to problems of large planning, and these they seem to +have handled with extraordinary skill. So far, what had been done in +this direction had been due to religious inspiration, as in the +processional ways leading to the Egyptian temples or the avenue of +figures at Branchidae. What the Hellenistic architects did was to think +out consecutive schemes of city planning, in which the dominant motive +of arrangement was artistic. They had learnt to treat the temples, the +public buildings, the open spaces and approaches, as the elements of one +harmonious composition, in which the utmost use was made of the natural +opportunities of the site. At Ephesus, for example, there is supposed to +have existed a consecutive scheme, larger than anything of the kind +carried out even in France in the eighteenth century, though the +evidence, it should be noted, is largely conjectural. As presented by +sanguine and enthusiastic restorers the scheme was magnificent. Next the +port, and facing it on one side, was the Arsenal, a regular building +opening on to a court surrounded by a colonnade, which again opened on +to the great ‘Place’, a square enclosure some 850 ft. wide +north and south, by 650 ft. east and west,<a name="FNanchor_142_142" id="FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a> +surrounded by a colonnade on all four sides, with exhedrae, or +semicircular recesses. In the centre of this Place was an oblong +water-piece, about 300 ft. by 200 ft., and on the farther side, opposite +the Arsenal buildings, were the Senate House and other public buildings; +and behind these and to the right and left of them the Theatre and the +Stadium, partly excavated in Mount Coressus. The Arsenal, the great +Place with its water-piece, and the public buildings, were laid out on +an axis line, and on a regular rectangulated plan.</p> + +<p>A scheme such as this (if it is possible to accept a conjectural +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span> +restoration), thought out in all its bearings, meant a real advance in +the range of architecture. It is useless to look for the faultless +beauty of the fifth century, but the resourcefulness and skill of the +Hellenistic architects gave a new meaning to the art; and indeed they +might almost be said to have established the first stage in the +development of its modern practice. It was from these able Hellenistic +architects that the Romans learnt the monumental planning of their +cities, and for centuries the architects most frequently employed were +Greeks of Asia Minor. At this point, Hellenistic architecture merges +into Roman, and loses its distinctive character. Through Roman it passes +on to modern architecture, and so in a sense the chain is complete; but +between this later art and pure Greek architecture there is a great gulf +fixed, differences not only of technique but of outlook, of ideal, and +of temperament. The mighty Doric of Paestum, Selinus, and Segesta, the +Theseion and the Parthenon, remains for all time the perfect expression +of the soul of ancient Greece.</p> + +<p>It is one of the ironies of history that when in the fifteenth and +sixteenth centuries scholars and artists awoke to the fact that there +had been a great architecture in the past they should have known of no +other version of it but the Roman. What splendid developments might have +followed if the finer spirits of the Renaissance, Alberti, Bramante, or +Peruzzi, had founded their theories of architecture on the temples of +Sicily and Magna Graecia, instead of on the debased examples of Imperial +Rome! They, at least, would have caught a glimpse of the beauty of +abstract form and perfect harmony, the secret of which seems to have +been revealed to the Greeks alone among the peoples of the world—and to +them for only a transient period of their history. Unfortunately, when +Greek architecture was discovered in the second half of the eighteenth +century, it became the shibboleth of the ‘virtuosi’. The +national traditions, both of France and England, were lost, Greek +architecture became the fashion, and the misguided<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span> +enthusiasm of pedants and amateurs insisted on literal reproductions +which completed the extinction of architecture as a vernacular art, and +replaced it by the series of revivalisms from which it has suffered for +the last one hundred and fifty years. Conscious and deliberate tinkering +with the art of architecture ended by destroying it.</p> + +<p>We can never hope to revive Greek architecture, nor should we attempt to +do so. There was once a well-known Scotch architect who held that the +column and the lintel was the only permissible form of construction, and +with this limitation and ill-selected Greek details he produced some +fantastically ugly buildings. Following a similar line of thought a +famous critic of the last century condemned methods of construction not +sanctioned by the Old Testament. Both were wide of the mark; because, +above and beyond all technical details of architecture is the spirit in +which it is approached, the intellectual outlook of the artist on his +art, and this may express itself in widely differing forms. In Greek +architecture of the Golden period, that outlook was definite and +distinctive, and it was one that has a very urgent lesson for us to-day. +The aim and ideal of the Greek was beauty of form, and this beauty, +which he sought in the first instance as the expression of his religion, +ultimately became almost a religion in itself. To the realization of +this ideal he devoted all his powers, sparing himself no pains in +chastening his work till it had attained the utmost perfection possible. +He merged himself in this work, without thought of the expression of +himself in his vision of a divine and immutable beauty. It hardly +occurred to him that his individual emotions were worth preserving. (In +the sculpture of the great period the expression of the face is usually +one of unruffled calm.) Although religious emotion was the source and +inspiration of his work, his work was impersonal. He was aloof from that +feverish anxiety for self-revelation which has made much modern art so +interesting pathologically, and so detestable otherwise. Nor again had +he anything of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> +the virtuoso about him. To him technique was not an end in itself. In +Hellenistic art it became so, but not in the Golden Age. Indeed, he was +sometimes almost careless of exact modelling, and in architecture he did +not use the order as a mere exhibition of scholarship. In his search for +beautiful form, he stood upon the ancient ways, patient and serene, +moving steadily to his appointed end. ‘Ainsi procède le +génie grec, moins soucieux du nouveau que du mieux, il reporte +vers l’épuration des formes l’activité que +d’autres dépensent en innovations souvent stériles, +jusqu’à ce qu’enfin il atteigne l’exquise +mesure dans les efforts, et dans les expressions l’absolue +justesse.’<a name="FNanchor_143_143" id="FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a> +There have been rare periods since, when Architecture has moved with the +same calm unhesitating purpose, Gothic architecture, for example, in the +twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and certain phases of +eighteenth-century architecture in France and England, when tradition +was still active and vital, and artists were content to let well alone.</p> + +<p>Modern conditions seem to be wholly against the Greek standpoint in art. +The Arts are in the melting-pot, the old standards of attainment are +trampled under foot, and the prophets prophesy falsely. Quite lately we +were asked to find our inspiration in the fetishes of the Gold Coast, +and if the aim of the artist is to outstrip his brethren in brutality, +the advice is sound. A recent critic justified the antics of certain +artists by the necessity they were under of advertising themselves. +That, no doubt, is the readiest way to immediate success. But the +question for the critic is, not the personal advancement of the artist +but the value of his work; and one would ask if any good work at any +period in the history of art has been inspired by this ambition to shout +louder than one’s neighbours. Certainly, the standpoint of the +Greek was the exact opposite. He did not seek advertisement and +notoriety. He was happy with his inner vision of beauty, and intent only +on its realization. He had not the smallest desire to shock or +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span> +startle any one. There are occasions when shock tactics are necessary, +but they are not necessary every day in the week, nor is it necessary to +make a clean sweep of the past before one sets to work in one’s +own little corner of art.</p> + +<p>What is wanted in modern art is some consciousness of this old Greek +spirit, some recognition of its value. The Greeks of the age of Pericles +wanted neither revivalism nor revolution; they moved forward, without +haste or anxiety, on traditional lines, and they were able to do so +because their art was so interwoven with their life that, in the plastic +arts, they could no more have changed their methods of expression than +they could have changed their manner of speech. That high outlook on +life is lost and hardly to be recovered under modern conditions of +social life and political government. It was perhaps only possible under +the true democracy of the small Greek city state, when every citizen +took his share in the ordered life of the community. Yet the Greek ideal +remains. In our fitful fever of honest intention and wrong judgement, +high endeavour and point-blank commercialism, Greek art, the art of +Pheidias and Ictinus, is still the wise mother to whom we must return. +The lesson of the Parthenon is the lesson of a +<ins class="corr" title="Transcriber's Note: The original showed 'stedfast'.">steadfast</ins> +vision of beauty, held high above individual effort and failure, +realizing itself not in complex detail or calculated eccentricity, but +in a serene and exquisite simplicity of form. It teaches us that in the +arts there are no short cuts, and that anarchy, the destruction of what +has been won for us in the past, is not advance but the straight road to +the bottomless pit of barbarism. Instead of repudiating the work of his +fathers, the Greek carried it on to its perfection, and built his palace +of art on a sure foundation because he turned neither to the right hand +nor to the left, but steadily set his face towards the light.</p> + +<p class='sig sc'>Reginald Blomfield.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Since this paper was first written <i>Euclid</i>, Book I, in the +Greek, has been edited with a commentary by Sir Thomas Heath (Cambridge +Press, 1920). It is full of interest and instruction.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> +See my paper on ‘The Socratic Doctrine of the +Soul’. <i>Proceedings of the British Academy</i>, 1915-16, pp. 235 +sqq.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> +In the case of the parabola, the base (as distinct from the +‘erect side’) of the rectangle is what is called the +<i>abscissa</i> (Gk. <span class='t' title='apotemnomenê'>αποτεμνομενη</span>, +‘cut off’) of the ordinate, and the rectangle itself is +equal to the square on the ordinate. In the case of the central conics, +the base of the rectangle is ‘the transverse side of the +figure’ or the transverse diameter (the diameter of reference), +and the rectangle is equal to the square on the diameter conjugate to +the diameter of reference.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> +This word primarily means an all-round athlete, a winner in all five of +the sports constituting the <span class='t' title='pentathlon'>πενταθλον</span>, +namely jumping, discus-throwing, running, wrestling, and boxing (or +javelin-throwing).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> +επι δε τουτοις Πυθαγορας την περι αυτην φιλοσοφιαν εις σχημα παιδειας +ελευθερου μετεστησεν. {epi de toutois Pythagoras tên peri autên +philosophian eis schêma paideias eleutherou metestêsen.} <i>Procli +Comment. Euclidis lib. I, Prolegom. II</i> (p. 65, ed. Friedlein).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> +The word <i>Biology</i> was introduced by Gottfried Reinhold Treviranus +(1776-1837) in his <i>Biologie oder die Philosophie der lebenden Natur</i>, 6 +vols., Göttingen, 1802-22, and was adopted by J.-B. de Lamarck +(1744-1829) in his <i>Hydrogéologie</i>, Paris, 1802. It is probable +that the first English use of the word in its modern sense is by Sir +William Lawrence (1783-1867) in his work <i>On the Physiology, Zoology, +and Natural History of Man</i>, London, 1819; there are earlier English +uses of the word, however, contrasted with <i>biography</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> +The remains of Alcmaeon are given in H. Diel’s <i>Die Fragmente der +Vorsokratiker</i>, Berlin, 1903, p. 103. Alcmaeon is considered in the +companion chapter on <i>Greek Medicine</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> +Especially the <span class='t' title='peri gynaikeiês physios'>περι +γυναικειης φυσιος</span>, <i>On the nature of woman</i>, and the +<span class='t' title='peri gynaikeiôn'>περι γυναικειων</span>, +<i>On the diseases of women</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri hebdomadôn'>περι ἑβδομαδων</span>. The Greek +text is lost. We have, however, an early and barbarous Latin +translation, and there has recently been printed an Arabic commentary. +G. Bergstrasser, <i>Pseudogaleni in Hippocratis de septimanis commentarium +ab Hunnino Q. F. arabice versum</i>, Leipzig, 1914.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri nousôn d'>περι νουσων δ</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri kardiês'>περι καρδιης</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> +Especially in the <span class='t' title='peri gonês'>περι γονης</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> +The three works <span class='t' title='peri gonês, peri physios paidiou, +peri nousôn d'>περι γονης, περι φυσιος παιδιου, περι νουσων δ</span>, <i>On +generation</i>, <i>on the nature of the embryo</i>, <i>on diseases, book IV</i>, +form really one treatise on generation.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri physios paidiou'>περι φυσιος παιδιου</span>, +<i>On the nature of the embryo</i>, § 13. The same experience is +described in the <span class='t' title='peri sarkôn'>περι σαρκων</span>, +<i>On the muscles</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri physios paidiou'>περι φυσιος παιδιου</span>, +<i>On the nature of the embryo</i>, § 29.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='peri physios paidiou'>περι φυσιος παιδιου</span>, +<i>On the nature of the embryo</i>, § 22.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> +Ibid. § 23.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> +It is possible that Theophrastus derived the word pericarp from +Aristotle. Cp. <i>De anima</i>, ii. 1, 412 b 2. In the passage +<span class='t' title='to phyllon perikarpiou skepasma, to de +perikarpion karpou'>το φυλλον περικαρπιου σκεπασμα, το δε περικαρπιον +καρπου</span>, in the <i>De anima</i> the word does not, however, seem to have the +full technical force that Theophrastus gives to it.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, i. 2, vi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> +<i>Ibid.</i> i. 1, iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, ii. 1, i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, viii. 1, i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> +Nathaniel Highmore, <i>A History of Generation</i>, London, 1651.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> +Marcello Malpighi, <i>Anatome plantarum</i>, London, 1675.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> +Nehemiah Grew, <i>Anatomy of Vegetables begun</i>, London, 1672.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> +Pliny, <i>Naturalis historia</i>, xiii. 4.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> +The curious word <span class='t' title='olynthazein'>ολυνθαζειν</span>, +here translated <i>to use the wild fig</i>, is from <span class='t' +title='olynthos'>ολυνθος</span>, a kind of wild fig which seldom ripens. The +special meaning here given to the word is explained in another work of +Theophrastus, <i>De causis plantarum</i>, ii. 9, xv. After describing +caprification in figs, he says το δε επι των φοινικων συμβαινον ου +ταυτον μεν, εχει δε τινα ὁμοιοτητα τουτω δι’ ὁ καλουσιν ολυνθαζειν +αυτους {to de epi tôn phoinikôn symbainon ou tauton men, echei de tina +homoiotêta toutô di’ ho kalousin olynthazein autous} ‘The +same thing is not done with dates, but something analogous to it, whence +this is called <span class='t' title='olynthazein'>ολυνθαζειν</span>’.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, ii. 8, iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p> +<a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> +Herodotus i. 193.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, ii. 8, i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> +<i>Ibid.</i> ii. 8, ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, ii. 8, iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> +<i>Ibid.</i> i. 1, ix.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> +<i>Ibid.</i> iii. 18, x.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> +<i>De causis plantarum</i>, ii. 23.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> +<i>Historia plantarum</i>, i. 13, iii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> +See the companion chapter on <i>Greek Medicine</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> +The surviving fragments of the works of Crateuas have recently been +printed by M. Wellmann as an appendix to the text of Dioscorides, <i>De +materia medica</i>, 3 vols., Berlin, 1906-17, iii. pp. 144-6. The source +and fate of his plant drawings are discussed in the same author’s +<i>Krateuas</i>, Berlin, 1897.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> +The manuscript in question is Med. Graec. 1 at what was the Royal +Library at Vienna. It is known as the <i>Constantinopolitanus</i>. After the +war it was taken to St. Mark’s at Venice, but either has been or +is about to be restored to Vienna. A facsimile of this grand manuscript +was published by Sijthoff, Leyden, 1906.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> +The lady in question was Juliana Anicia, daughter of Anicius Olybrius, +Emperor of the West in 472, and his wife Placidia, daughter of +Valentinian III. Juliana was betrothed in 479 by the Eastern Emperor +Zeno to Theodoric the Ostrogoth, but was married, probably in 487 when +the manuscript was presented to her, to Areobindus, a high military +officer under the Byzantine Emperor Anastasius.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> +The importance of this manuscript as well as the position of Dioscorides +as medical botanist is discussed by Charles Singer in an article +‘Greek Biology and the Rise of Modern Biology’, <i>Studies in +the History and Method of Science</i>, vol. ii, Oxford, 1921.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> +This manuscript is at the University Library at Leyden, where it is +numbered Voss Q 9.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> +A good instance of Galen’s teleological point of view is afforded +by his classical description of <i>the hand</i> in the <span class='t' +title='peri chreias tôn en anthrôpou sômati moriôn'>περι χρειας των εν +ανθρωπου σωματι μοριων</span>, <i>On the uses of the parts of the body of man</i>, +i. 1. This passage is available in English in a tract by Thomas Bellott, +London, 1840.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> +The early European translations from the Arabic are tabulated with +unparalleled learning by M. Steinschneider, ‘Die Europäischen +Uebersetzungen aus dem Arabischen bis Mitte des 17. Jahrhunderts’, +in the <i>Sitzungsberichte der kais. Akad. der Wissenschaften in Wien</i>, +cxlix and cli, Vienna, 1904 and 1905.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> +C. H. Haskins, ‘The reception of Arabic science in England,’ +<i>English Historical Review</i>, London, 1915, p. 56.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> +Roger Bacon, <i>Opus majus</i>, edited by J. H. Bridges, 3 vols., London, +1897-1900. Vol. iii, p. 66.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> +On the Aristotelian translations of Scott see A. H. Querfeld, <i>Michael +Scottus und seine Schrift, De secretis naturae</i>, Leipzig, 1919; and C. +H. Haskins, ‘Michael Scot and Frederick II’ in <i>Isis</i>, ii. +250, Brussels, 1922.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> +J. G. Schneider, <i>Aristotelis de animalibus historiae</i>, Leipzig, 1811, +p. cxxvi. L. Dittmeyer, <i>Guilelmi Moerbekensis translatio commentationis +Aristotelicae de generatione animalium</i>, Dillingen, 1915. L. Dittmeyer, +<i>De animalibus historia</i>, Leipzig, 1907.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> +The subject of the Latin translations of Aristotle is traversed by A. +and C. Jourdain, <i>Recherches critiques sur l’âge des +traductions latines d’Aristote</i>, 2nd ed., Paris, 1843; M. +Grabmann, <i>Forschungen uber die lateinischen Aristoteles Ubersetzungen +des XIII. Jahrhunderts</i>, Münster i/W., 1916; and F. +Wüstenfeld, <i>Die Ubersetzungen arabischer Werke in das Lateinische +seit dem XI. Jahrhundert</i>, Göttingen, 1877.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> +The enormous <i>De Animalibus</i> of Albert of Cologne is now available in an +edition by H. Stadler, <i>Albertus Magnus De Animalibus Libri XXVI nach +der cölner Urschrift</i>, 2 vols., Münster i/W., 1916-21. The +quotation is translated from vol. i, pp. 465-6.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> +Conrad’s work is conveniently edited by H. Schultz, <i>Das Buch der +Natur von Conrad von Megenberg, die erste Naturgeschichte in deutscher +Sprache, in Neu-Hochdeutsche Sprache bearbeitet</i>, Greifswald, 1897. +Conrad’s work is based on that of Thomas of Cantimpré +(1201-70).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> +Hieronimo Fabrizio of Acquapendente, <i>De formato foetu</i>, Padua, 1604.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> +William Harvey, <i>Exercitationes de generatione animalium</i>, London, 1651.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> +Karl Ernst von Baer, <i>Ueber die Entwickelungsgeschichte der Thiere</i>, +Königsberg, 1828-37.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> +The works of Herophilus are lost. This fine passage has been preserved +for us by Sextus Empiricus, a third-century physician, in his <span +class='t' title='pros tois mathêmatikous aitirrêtikoi'>προς τοις +μαθηματικους αιτιρρητικοι</span>, which is in essence an attack on all positive +philosophy. It is an entertaining fact that we should have to go to such +a work for remains of the greatest anatomist of antiquity. The passage +is in the section directed against ethical writers, xi. 50.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> +The word <span class='t' title='physikos'>φυσικος</span>, though it passed +over into Latin (Cicero) with the meaning <i>naturalist</i>, acquired the +connotation of <i>sorcerer</i> among the later Greek writers. Perhaps the +word <i>physicianus</i> was introduced to make a distinction from the +charm-mongering <i>physicus</i>. In later Latin <i>physicus</i> and <i>medicus</i> +are almost always interchangeable.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> +This fragment has been published in vol. iii, part 1, of the +<i>Supplementum Aristotelicum</i> by H. Diels as <i>Anonymi Londinensis ex +Aristotelis Iatricis Menonis et Aliis Medicis Eclogae</i>, Berlin, 1893. +See also H. Bekh and F. Spät, <i>Anonymus Londinensis, Auszuge eines +Unbekannten aus Aristoteles-Menons Handbuch der Medizin</i>, Berlin, 1896.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> +As we go to press there appears a preliminary account of the very +remarkable Edwin Smith papyrus, see J. H. Breasted in <i>Recueil +d’études egyptologiques dédiées à la +mémoire de Champollion</i>, Paris 1922, and <i>New York Historical +Society Bulletin</i>, 1922.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> +It is tempting, also, to connect the Asclepian snake cult with the +prominence of the serpent in Minoan religion.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> +This word <i>pronoia</i>, as Galen explains (<span class='t' title='eis to +Hippokratous prognôstikon'>εις το Ἱπποκρατους προγνωστικον</span>, K. xviii, B. +p. 10), is not used in the philosophic sense, as when we ask whether the +universe was made by chance or by <i>pronoia</i>, nor is it used quite in the +modern sense of <i>prognosis</i>, though it includes that too. <i>Pronoia</i> in +Hippocrates means knowing things about a patient before you are told +them. See E. T. Withington, ‘Some Greek medical terms with +reference to Luke and Liddell and Scott,’ <i>Proceedings of the +Royal Society of Medicine</i> (<i>Section of the History of Medicine</i>), xiii, +p. 124, London, 1920.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> +<i>Prognostics</i> 1.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> +There is a discussion of the relation of the Asclepiadae to temple +practice in an article by E. T. Withington, ‘The Asclepiadae and +the Priest of Asclepius,’ in <i>Studies in the History and Method of +Science</i>, edited by Charles Singer, vol. ii, Oxford, 1921.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> +The works of Anaximenes are lost. This phrase of his, however, is +preserved by the later writer Aetios.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> +For the work of these physicians see especially M. Wellmann, +<i>Fragmentsammlung der griechischen Aerzte</i>, Bd. I, Berlin, 1901.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> +Galen, <span class='t' title='peri anatomikôn encheirêseôn'>περι ανατομικων εγχειρησεων</span>, +<i>On anatomical preparations</i>, § 1, K. II, p. 282.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> +<i>Historia animalium</i>, iii. 3, where it is ascribed to Polybus. The same +passage is, however, repeated twice in the Hippocratic writings, viz. in +the <span class='t' title='peri physios anthrôpou'>περι φυσιος ανθρωπου</span>, +<i>On the nature of man</i>, Littré, vi. 58, and in the <span +class='t' title='peri osteôn physios'>περι οστεων φυσιος</span>, <i>On the nature +of bones</i>, Littré, ix. 174.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='Parangeliai'>Παραγγελιαι</span>, § 6.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> +See Fig. 1.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_69_69" id="Footnote_69_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> +Translation by Professor Arthur Platt.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_70_70" id="Footnote_70_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> +It must, however, be admitted that in the Hippocratic collection are +breaches of the oath, e. g. in the induction of abortion related in +<span class='t' title='peri physios paidiou'>περι φυσιος παιδιου</span>. +There is evidence, however, that the author of this work was not a +medical practitioner.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_71_71" id="Footnote_71_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> +Rome Urbinas 64, fo. 116.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_72_72" id="Footnote_72_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> +Kühlewein, i. 79, regards this as an interpolated passage.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_73_73" id="Footnote_73_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> +Littré, ii. 112; Kühlewein, i. 79. The texts vary: +Kühlewein is followed except in the last sentence.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_74_74" id="Footnote_74_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='Peri technês'>Περι τεχνης</span>, § 3.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_75_75" id="Footnote_75_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> +<span class='t' title='Peri nousôn a’'>Περι νουσων α'</span>, § 6.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_76_76" id="Footnote_76_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> +A reference to dissection in the <span class='t' title='peri arthrôn'>περι +αρθρων</span>, <i>On the joints</i>, § 1, appears to the present writer to be +of Alexandrian date.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_77_77" id="Footnote_77_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> +They are to be found as an Appendix to Books I and III of the +<i>Epidemics</i> and embedded in Book III.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_78_78" id="Footnote_78_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> +John Cheyne (1777-1836) described this type of respiration in the +<i>Dublin Hospital Reports</i>, 1818, ii, p. 216. An extreme case of this +condition had been described by Cheyne’s namesake George Cheyne +(1671-1743) as the famous ‘Case of the Hon. Col. Townshend’ +in his <i>English Malady</i>, London, 1733. William Stokes (1804-78) +published his account of Cheyne-Stokes breathing in the <i>Dublin +Quarterly Journal of the Medical Sciences</i>, 1846, ii, p. 73.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_79_79" id="Footnote_79_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> +The Epidaurian inscriptions are given by M. Fraenkel in the <i>Corpus +Inscriptionum Graecarum</i> IV, 951-6, and are discussed by Mary Hamilton +(Mrs. Guy Dickins), <i>Incubation</i>, St. Andrews, 1906, from whose +translation I have quoted. Further inscriptions are given by Cavvadias +in the <i>Archaiologike Ephemeris</i>, 1918, p. 155 (issued 1921).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_80_80" id="Footnote_80_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> +We are almost told as much in the apocryphal <i>Gospel of Nicodemus</i>, +§ 1, a work probably composed about the end of the fourth century.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_81_81" id="Footnote_81_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> +Astley Paston Cooper, <i>Treatise on Dislocations and Fractures of the +Joints</i>, London, 1822, and <i>Observations on Fractures of the Neck and +the Thighbone</i>, &c., London, 1823.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_82_82" id="Footnote_82_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> +This famous manuscript is known as Laurentian, Plutarch 74, 7, and its +figures have been reproduced by H. Schöne, <i>Apollonius von Kitium</i>, +Leipzig, 1896.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_83_83" id="Footnote_83_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> +The first lines are the source of the famous lines in Goethe’s +<i>Faust</i>:</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Ach Gott! die Kunst ist lang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Und kurz ist unser Leben,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mir wird bei meinem kritischen Bestreben<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doch oft um Kopf und Busen bang.’<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_84_84" id="Footnote_84_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> +The extreme of treatment refers in the original to the extreme +restriction of diet, <span class='t' title='es akribeiên'>ες ακριβειην</span>, +but the meaning of the Aphorism has always been taken as more +generalized.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_85_85" id="Footnote_85_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> +The ancients knew almost nothing of infection <i>as applied specifically</i> +to disease. All early peoples—including Greeks and +Romans—believed in the transmission of qualities from object to +object. Thus purity and impurity and good and bad luck were infections, +and diseases were held to be infections in that sense. But there is +little evidence in the belief of the special infectivity of <i>disease as +such</i> in antiquity. Some few diseases are, however, unequivocally +referred to as infectious in a limited number of passages, e. g. +ophthalmia, scabies, and phthisis in the <span class='t' title='peri +diaphoras pyretôn'>περι διαφορας πυρετων</span>, <i>On the differentiae of +fevers</i>, K. vii, p. 279. The references to infection in antiquity are +detailed by C. and D. Singer, ‘The scientific position of Girolamo +Fracastoro’, <i>Annals of Medical History</i>, vol. i, New York, 1917.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_86_86" id="Footnote_86_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> +K. F. H. Marx, <i>Herophilus, ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Medizin</i>, +Karlsruhe, 1838.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_87_87" id="Footnote_87_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> +Galen, <span class='t' title='peri anatomikôn encheirêseôn'>περι +ανατομικων εγχειρησεων</span>, <i>On anatomical preparations</i>, ix. 5 (last +sentence).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_88_88" id="Footnote_88_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> +Galen, <span class='t' title='peri phlebôn kai artêriôn anatomês'>περι +φλεβων και αρτηριων ανατομης</span>, <i>On the anatomy of veins and +arteries</i>, i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_89_89" id="Footnote_89_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> +The quotation is from chapter xxxiii, line 44 of the <i>Anonymus +Londinensis</i>. H. Diels, <i>Anonymus Londinensis</i> in the <i>Supplementum +Aristotelicum</i>, vol. iii, pars 1, Berlin, 1893.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_90_90" id="Footnote_90_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> +Sanctorio Santorio, <i>Oratio in archilyceo patavino anno 1612 habita; de +medicina statica aphorismi</i>. Venice, 1614.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_91_91" id="Footnote_91_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> +This is the only passage of Hegetor’s writing that has survived. +It has been preserved in the work of Apollonius of Citium.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_92_92" id="Footnote_92_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> +Leyden Voss 4° 9<sup>*</sup> of the sixth century is a fragment of this work.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_93_93" id="Footnote_93_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> +V. Rose, <i>Sorani Ephesii vetus translatio Latina cum additis Graeci +textus reliquiis</i>, Leipzig, 1882; F. Weindler, <i>Geschichte der +gynäkologisch-anatomischen Abbildung</i>, Dresden, 1908.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_94_94" id="Footnote_94_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> +The discovery and attribution of these figures is the work of K. +Sudhoff. A bibliography of his writings on the subject will be found in +a ‘Study in Early Renaissance Anatomy’ in C. Singer’s +<i>Studies in the History and Method of Science</i>, vol. i, Oxford, 1917.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_95_95" id="Footnote_95_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> +First Latin edition Venice, 1552; first Greek edition Paris, 1554.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_96_96" id="Footnote_96_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> +e. g. <span class='t' title='peri kraseôs kai dynameôs tôn hapantôn +pharmakôn'>περι κρασεως και δυναμεως των ἁπαντων φαρμακων</span> +and the <span class='t' title='pharmaka'>φαρμακα</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_97_97" id="Footnote_97_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> +e. g. <i>De dinamidiis Galeni</i>, <i>Secreta Hippocratis</i> and many +astrological tracts.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_98_98" id="Footnote_98_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> +Dissection of animals was practised at Salerno as early as the eleventh +century.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_99_99" id="Footnote_99_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> +The sources of the anatomical knowledge of the Middle Ages are discussed +in detail in the following works: R. R. von Töply, <i>Studien zur +Geschichte der Anatomie im Mittelalter</i>, Vienna, 1898; K. Sudhoff, +<i>Tradition und Naturbeobachtung</i>, Leipzig, 1907; and also numerous +articles in the <i>Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin und +Naturwissenschaften</i>; Charles Singer, ‘A Study in Early +Renaissance Anatomy’, in <i>Studies in the History and Method of +Science</i>, vol. i, Oxford, 1917.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_100_100" id="Footnote_100_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> +Benivieni’s notes were published posthumously. Some of the +spurious Greek works of the Hippocratic collection have also case notes.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_101_101" id="Footnote_101_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> +<i>Tusc.</i> 1. 1. 2.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_102_102" id="Footnote_102_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> +<i>Inst. Or.</i> I. 1. 12.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_103_103" id="Footnote_103_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> +Goethe, <i>Gespräche</i>, 3. 387.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_104_104" id="Footnote_104_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> +Ibid., 3. 443.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_105_105" id="Footnote_105_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> +Wordsworth, <i>Table-talk</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_106_106" id="Footnote_106_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> +Shelley, <i>On the Manners of the Ancients</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_107_107" id="Footnote_107_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> +Mill, <i>Dissertations</i>, ii. 283 f.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_108_108" id="Footnote_108_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> +Macaulay, <i>Life and Letters</i>, i. 43.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_109_109" id="Footnote_109_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> +Homer, <i>Iliad</i>, vi. 466 ff. (with omissions: chiefly from the +translation of Lang, Leaf, and Myers). It should be remembered that, of +the three figures in this scene, the husband will be dead in a few days, +while within a year the wife will be a slave and the child thrown from +the city wall.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_110_110" id="Footnote_110_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> +Genesis xxi. 14 f.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_111_111" id="Footnote_111_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> +<i>Iliad</i>, xvi. 428 f.: ‘As vultures with crooked talons and curved +beaks that upon some high crag fight, screaming loudly.’ <i>Ibid.</i> +v. 770 f.: ‘As far as a man’s view ranges in the haze, as he +sits on a point of outlook and gazes over the wine-dark sea, so far at a +spring leap the loud-neighing horses of the gods.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_112_112" id="Footnote_112_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> +<i>Poetics</i>, c. 23 (tr. Butcher).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_113_113" id="Footnote_113_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> +‘Stranger, tell the Spartans that we lie here, +obeying their words.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_114_114" id="Footnote_114_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> +<i>Phaedo</i>, 118 B.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_115_115" id="Footnote_115_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> +fr. 95: ‘Star of evening, bringing all things that bright dawn has +scattered, you bring the sheep, you bring the goat, you bring the child +back to its mother.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_116_116" id="Footnote_116_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> +<i>Iliad</i>, xxiv. 277 f. (with omissions).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_117_117" id="Footnote_117_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> +I have taken these quotations of Keats from Bradley, <i>Oxford Lecture on +Poetry</i>, p. 238.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_118_118" id="Footnote_118_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> +Callimachus, <i>Epigr.</i> 20: ‘His father Philip laid here to rest his +twelve-year old son, his high hope, Nicoteles.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_119_119" id="Footnote_119_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> +<i>Thuc.</i> iv. 104, 105, 106 (tr. Jowett, mainly).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_120_120" id="Footnote_120_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> +<i>The Greek Genius and its Meaning to us</i>, pp. 74 ff.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_121_121" id="Footnote_121_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> +In these novels and in <i>The Dynasts</i> Mr. Hardy allows his personal views +to depress one side of the scales: in his lesser novels he has often +shown that he can hold the balance even. This distinction should be +borne in mind in all the criticisms of his work, which I have ventured +to make.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_122_122" id="Footnote_122_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> +Keats, <i>Preface to Endymion</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_123_123" id="Footnote_123_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> +<i>Hymn to Demeter</i>, l. 2 ff. The translation is mainly from Pater, <i>Greek +Studies</i>. ‘Whom, by the consent of far-seeing, deep-thundering +Zeus, Aidoneus carried away, as she played with the deep-bosomed +daughters of Ocean, gathering flowers in a meadow of soft grass and +roses and crocus and fair violets and iris and hyacinths and the strange +glory of the narcissus which the Earth, favouring the desire of +Aidoneus, brought forth to snare the flower-like girl. A wonder it was +to all, immortal gods and mortal men. A hundred blossoms grew up from +the roots of it, and very sweet was its scent, and the broad sky above, +and all the earth and the salt wave of the sea laughed to see it. She in +wonder stretched out her two hands to take the lovely plaything: +thereupon the wide-wayed earth opened in the Nysian plain and the king +of the great nation of the dead sprang out with his immortal +horses.’</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_124_124" id="Footnote_124_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> +ll. 732 f. (tr. Murray).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_125_125" id="Footnote_125_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> +Vitruvius, <i>De Architectura</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_126_126" id="Footnote_126_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> +Pliny the Elder, <i>Historia Naturalis</i>, xxxvi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_127_127" id="Footnote_127_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> +Pausanias, <span class='t' title='Hellados Periêgêsis'>Ἑλλαδος Περιηγησις</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_128_128" id="Footnote_128_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> +Sir Arthur Evans has drawn up an ingenious chronology of Early Minoan +(2800-2200 <span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), Middle Minoan (2200-1700 +<span class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>), and Late Minoan (1700-1200 <span +class='lc sc'>B. C.</span>). The evidence is almost entirely that of pottery +discovered on the site. The whole question of the relations of Minoan to +Mycenaean art, and of this archaic art to the earlier civilizations of +Egypt and Chaldea, is very obscure and uncertain.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_129_129" id="Footnote_129_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> +The heraldic treatment of the lions is of Eastern origin. The Greeks had +a tradition that the chieftains of Mycenae came from Lydia.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_130_130" id="Footnote_130_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> +Portions of these columns are now in the British Museum.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_131_131" id="Footnote_131_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> +The order, I may say for the uninitiated, means the complete ordonnance +of the column, the architrave resting immediately on its capital, the +frieze and the cornice. It is the final expression of the simple device +of the post and lintel, of the beam resting on the heads of two or more +posts; and there is little doubt that in its ultimate origin, the Order +is the translation into stone of the details of a rudimentary wooden +construction.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_132_132" id="Footnote_132_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> +<i>Hellenistic Sculpture</i>, by Guy Dickins, p. 85. The author, who wrote +with something of the insight of the artist as well as the accurate +knowledge of the scholar, died of wounds, on the Somme, in 1916.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_133_133" id="Footnote_133_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> +<i>Vitruvius</i>, iii. 1. The difficulty was, that if the triglyph was placed +on the angle of the building (the practice of the Greeks) and the next +triglyph was placed over the axis of the column, the metope (or panel) +between these two triglyphs would be larger than the metopes between the +triglyphs axial over the other columns. The Greeks solved it by reducing +the width of the end intercolumniation, but later critics disliked this, +and solved it by removing the end triglyph from the angle and placing it +axial over the end column.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_134_134" id="Footnote_134_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> +Vitruvius gives this as the ‘aedes in antis’.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_135_135" id="Footnote_135_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> +Pro-style (colonnade in front).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_136_136" id="Footnote_136_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> +Amphipro-style (colonnade at both ends).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_137_137" id="Footnote_137_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> +Peripteral (single colonnade all round).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_138_138" id="Footnote_138_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> +Dipteral (double colonnade all round).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_139_139" id="Footnote_139_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> +Pseudo-dipteral (inner row of columns omitted).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_140_140" id="Footnote_140_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> +The Erechtheum was an exception.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_141_141" id="Footnote_141_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> +See <i>Delphi</i>, by Dr. Frederick Poulsen, p. 52. It is suggested that the +Sacred Way was in existence before the shrines were built, and that its +wanderings were necessitated by the gradients of the hillside. No sort +of attempt, however, seems to have been made to correct this, or to +treat it as an element of design.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_142_142" id="Footnote_142_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> +The Place Vendôme measures 450 ft. × 420 ft.; Grosvenor +Square about 650 × 530; and Lincoln’s Inn Fields about 800 +× 630, measured from wall to wall of buildings.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_143_143" id="Footnote_143_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> +Choisy, <i>History of Architecture</i>, vol. i, p. 298.</p></div> + +<div class='blurb'> +<h3>Transcriber’s Notes and Errata</h3> + +<p>Illustrations have been moved to the appropriate placed in the text.</p> + +<p>The following typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr class='b'><td align='left'>Page</td><td align='left'>Error</td><td align='left'>Correction</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>218</td><td align='left'>back</td><td align='left'>black</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>424</td><td align='left'>stedfast</td><td align='left'>steadfast</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The following words are found in hyphenated and unhyphenated forms in the text. +The numbers of instances are given in parentheses.</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="1" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>cuttle-fish (2)</td><td align='left'>cuttlefish (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>fresh-water (1)</td><td align='left'>freshwater (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' rowspan='2'>pre-occupation (4)</td><td align='left'>preoccupation (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>preoccupations (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>re-arranging (1)</td><td align='left'>rearranging (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>re-discovery (2)</td><td align='left'>rediscovery (3)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>super-men (1)</td><td align='left'>supermen (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>super-women (1)</td><td align='left'>superwomen (1)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>text-book (5)</td><td align='left'>textbook (2)</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>text-books (2)</td><td align='left'>textbooks (3)</td></tr> +</table></div> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Legacy of Greece, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGACY OF GREECE *** + +***** This file should be named 22259-h.htm or 22259-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/2/5/22259/ + +Produced by L.N. 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