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E. Gladstone - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age, Vol. 3 of 3 - -Author: W. E. Gladstone - -Release Date: September 7, 2016 [EBook #53004] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STUDIES ON HOMER, HOMERIC AGE, VOL 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Henry Flower and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p>The eBook cover was created by adding text to the original cover and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -<p>In the html version of this book, the map is linked to a higher-resolution version.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="nomobile break figcenter" style="width: 376px;"> -<img src="images/covercrop.jpg" width="375" height="500" alt="cover" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - - - -<h1 class="break"> -STUDIES ON HOMER<br /> -<span class="small">AND</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">THE HOMERIC AGE.</span></h1> - -<p class="titlepage">BY THE<br /> -<span class="large">RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, D.C.L.</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">M. P. FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.</span></p> - - -<p class="titlepage">IN THREE VOLUMES.</p> - -<p class="center">VOL. III.</p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore.</span>—<span class="smcap">Horace.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="large">OXFORD:</span><br /> -AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.<br /> -<span class="smaller">M.DCCC.LVIII.</span> -</p> - -<p class="p2"> -[<i>The right of Translation is reserved.</i>] -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="break p4 center"> -<span class="x-large">STUDIES ON HOMER</span><br /> -AND<br /> -<span class="large">THE HOMERIC AGE.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span class="large">I. AGORÈ:</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">POLITIES OF THE HOMERIC AGE.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span class="large">II. ILIOS:</span><br /> -<span class="smaller"> -TROJANS AND GREEKS COMPARED.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span class="large">III. THALASSA:</span><br /> -<span class="smaller"> -THE OUTER GEOGRAPHY.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span class="large">IV. AOIDOS:</span><br /> -<span class="smaller"> -SOME POINTS OF THE POETRY OF HOMER.</span></p> - - - -<p class="titlepage"> -BY THE<br /> -<span class="large">RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE, D.C.L.</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">M. P. FOR THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.</span></p> - - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Plenius ac melius Chrysippo et Crantore.</span>—<span class="smcap">Horace.</span></p> - -<p class="titlepage"> -<span class="large">OXFORD:</span><br /> -AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.<br /> -<span class="smaller">M.DCCC.LVIII.</span></p> - -<p class="p2"> -[<i>The right of Translation is reserved.</i>] -</p> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVERTISEMENT.</h2></div> - - -<p>Since the Sections which relate to Ethnology passed through the -Press, the First Volume of Mr. Rawlinson’s Herodotus has appeared. -Earlier possession of this important Publication would have emboldened -me to proceed a step further in the attempt to specify the -probable or possible form of the original Ethnic relation between -the Pelasgians and the Hellenes of the Greek Peninsula, but designating -the latter as pure Arian, and the former as Arian, with a -residue or mixture of Turanian elements.</p> - -<p>It has also been since the ‘Olympus’ was printed, that I have -become acquainted with Welcker’s recent and unfinished ‘<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griechische -Götterlehre</i>,’ (Göttingen, 1857.) I could have wished to refer to it -at various points, and especially to avail myself of the clearer view, -which the learned Author has given, of the position of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κρόνος</span>.</p> - -<p>Founding himself in part on the exclusive appropriation by -Homer of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κρονίδης</span> to Jupiter, he enables us to see how -Jupiter may have inherited the sole use of the title as being ‘the -Ancient of days;’ and how <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κρόνος</span> was a formation in the Mythology -wholly secondary and posterior to his reputed son. (Welcker, sectt. -27, 8. pp. 140-7.)</p> - -<p>Another recent book, M. Alfred Maury’s <i>Histoire des Religions de -la Grèce Antique</i>, undertakes the useful task of unfolding largely -the relations of the Greek religion to the East. But the division of -it which deals with Homer specifically is neither complete nor accurate, -and affords a new illustration of the proposition which I chiefly -desire to establish, namely, that Homer ought to be treated as a -separate and independent centre of study.</p> - -<p class="sig"> -<span class="smcap">11, Carlton House Terrace, London</span>,<br /> -March 15, 1858. -</p> - - - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">THE CONTENTS.</h2> - -</div> - - -<div class="center"> -<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">I. AGORÈ:</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="smaller">OR</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">THE POLITIES OF THE HOMERIC AGE.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Political ideas of later Greece</td><td align="right">Page <a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Their strong development in Heroic Greece</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Germ of the Law of Nations</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Grote’s account of the Heroic Polities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Their peculiar features, Publicity and Persuasion</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Functions of the king in the Heroic Polities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Nature of the Pelopid Empire</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Degrees in Kingship and in Lordship</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Four forms of Sovereignty</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>First tokens of change in the Heroic Polities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Shown by analysis of the Catalogue</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Extended signs in the Odyssey</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Altered sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλεὺς</span> or King</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>New name of Queen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Disorganization caused by the War</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Arrival of a new race at manhood</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Increased weight of the nobles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Altered idea of the kingly office</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The first instance of a bad King</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Further change in the time of Hesiod</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Veneration long adhering to the name</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Five distinctive notes of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλῆες</span> in the Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>The nine Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλῆες</span> of the Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The case of Meges</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of Phœnix</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of Patroclus and Eurypylus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Conditions of Kingship in the Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The personal beauty of the Kings</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Custom of resignation in old age</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Force of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Gymnastic superiority of the Kings</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Their pursuit of Music and Song</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Ulysses as artificer and husbandman</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Kings as Gentlemen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_47">47</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Achilles in particular</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Tenderness and tears of the Greek chiefs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Right of hereditary succession</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Right of primogeniture</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Homeric King (1) as Priest</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>(2) as Judge</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>(3) as General</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>(4) as Proprietor: the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His revenues, from four sources in all</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Burdens upon them</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The political position of Agamemnon</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The governing motives of the War</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Position of Agamemnon in the army</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His personal character</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The relation of sovereign and subject a free one</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The personal attendants of the King</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Aristocracy or chief proprietors</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_69">69</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Trades and Professions</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Slaves of the Homeric age</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θῆτες</span> or hired servants</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Supply of military service</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Whether there was a peasant-proprietary</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Political Economy of the Homeric age</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The precious metals not a measure of value</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Oxen in some degree a measure of value</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Relative scarcity of certain metals</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mode of government of the Army</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Its military composition</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Chief descriptions of fighting men</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Battle and the Ambuscade</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span> or Council of the Greeks</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>It subsisted in peace and in war</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Opposition in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Agamemnon’s proposals of Return</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The influence of Speech in the Heroic age</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>It was a subject of regular training</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Varied descriptions of oratory in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Achilles the paramount Orator</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_105">105</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The orations of the poems</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The power of repartee</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The power of sarcasm</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The faculty of debate in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The discussion of the Ninth Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Function of the Assembly in the Heroic age</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The formal use of majorities unknown</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The great decisions of the War taken there</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>It was not summoned exclusively by Agamemnon</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Opposition in the Agorè by the chiefs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Opposition by Thersites</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Grote’s judgment on the case of Thersites</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>How that case bears witness to the popular principle</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>As does the Agorè on the Shield</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mode of addressing the Assembly</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Its decisions in the Seventh and Ninth Iliads</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Division in the Drunken Assembly</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Appeal of Telemachus to the Ithacan Assembly</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_132">132</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Phæacian Assembly of the Eighth Odyssey</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_134">134</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Ithacan Assembly of the Twenty-fourth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Councils or Assemblies of Olympus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Judicial functions of the Assembly</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Assembly the central point of the Polity</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The common soul or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Imperfect organization of Heroic Polities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_143">143</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">II. ILIOS.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">THE TROJANS COMPARED AND CONTRASTED WITH THE GREEKS.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Relationship of Troy and Greece twofold</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Greek names of deities found also in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Include nearly all the greater deities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Worship of Vulcan in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Worship of Juno and Gaia in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Worship of Mercury in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_154">154</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Worship of Scamander</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Different view of Rivers in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Essential character of Trojan River-worship</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojan impersonations from Nature rare</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Poverty of Mythology among the Trojans</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Their jejune doctrine of a Future State</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Redundance of life in the Greek system</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Worship from hills</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The nations compared as to external development of religion.—</td></tr> -<tr><td>1. Temples</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>2. As to endowments in land, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τεμένεα</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>3. As to Groves’ <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσεα</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>4. As to Statues of the Gods</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>5. As to Seers or Diviners</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>6. As to the Priesthood: Priesthood in Greece</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Priesthood in later Greece</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Priesthood among the Trojans</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Comparative observance of sacrifice</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Trojans more given to religious observances</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s different modes of handling for Greece and Troy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Moral superiority of his Greeks on the whole</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s account of the abduction of Helen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_193">193</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Greek estimate of Paris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Its relation to prevailing views of Marriage</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>And to Greek views of Homicide</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Trojan estimate of Paris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Public opinion less developed in Troy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Trojans more sensual and false</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojan ideas and usages of Marriage</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_210">210</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>The family of Priam</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Stricter ideas among the Greeks</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojan Polity less highly organized</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Rule of Succession in Troy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Succession to the throne of Priam</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Paris, most probably, was his eldest son</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Position of Priam and his dynasty in Troas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τροίη</span> and of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἴλιος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Evidence from the Trojan Catalogue</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_225">225</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Extent of his sovereignty and supremacy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_228">228</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Polity of Ilios: the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλεύς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Assembly</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The greater weight of Age in Troy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The absence of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span> in Troy</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The greater weight of oratory in Greece</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojans less gifted with self-command</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_242">242</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>And with intelligence generally</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Difference in the pursuits of high-born youth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Difference as to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰδὼς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Summary of differences</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">III. THALASSA.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">THE OUTER GEOGRAPHY OF THE ODYSSEY.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Why it deserves investigation</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Principal heads of the inquiry</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The two Spheres of Inner and Outer Geography</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Limits of the Inner Geography</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The intermediate or doubtful zone</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Sphere of the Outer Geography</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The two Keys of the Outer Geography</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The traditional interpretations valueless</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Manifest dislocations of actual nature</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Postulates for examining the Outer Geography</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Winds of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Special notices of Eurus and Notus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of Zephyr and Boreas</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Points of the Compass for the two last</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>For the two first</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Scheme of the four Winds</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Signification of Eurus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_273">273</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homeric distances and rates of speed</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Particulars of evidence on speed</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The northward sea-route to the Euxine</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Evidence from Il. xiii. 1-6</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Od. vii. 319-26</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Od. v. 44-57</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Od. xxiv. 11-13</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Amalgamated reports of the Ocean-mouth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Open-sea passage to the Ocean-mouth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homeward passage by the Straits, why preferred</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Three maritime routes to the Ocean-mouth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Its two possible originals in nature</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Straits of Yenikalè as Ocean-mouth</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Summary of facts from Phœnician reports</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Two sets of reports are blended into one</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The site of Ææa; North-western hypothesis</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_298">298</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>North-eastern hypothesis</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Argument from the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From the Island Thrinacie</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_302">302</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Local notes of Ææa</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_303">303</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Site of Ogygia</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Argument from the flight of Mercury</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_305">305</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From the floatage of Ulysses</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From his homeward passage</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_308">308</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Site of Scylla relatively to the Dardanelles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Why Ææa cannot lie North-westward</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Construction of Od. xii. 3, 4</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Construction of Od. v. 276, 7</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Genuineness of the passage questionable</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Its real meaning</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s indications of geographical misgivings</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Stages of the tour of Ulysses to Ææa (i-vi.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Ææa and the Euxine (vi-viii.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Remaining stages (viii-xi.)</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Directions and distances from Ææa onwards</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Tours of Menelaus and Ulysses compared</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The earth of Homer probably oval</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_334">334</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Points of contact with Oceanus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Caspian and Persian Gulf belong to Oceanus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Contraction and compression of the Homeric East</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Outline of Homer’s terrestrial system</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Map of Earth according to Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_343">343</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">EXCURSUS I.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Parentage and Extraction of Minos.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>On the genuineness of Il. xiv. 317-27</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>On the sense of the line Il. xiv. 321</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_346">346</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Collateral testimony to the extraction of Minos</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_347">347</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">EXCURSUS II.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>On the line Odyss. v. 277.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Points of the question stated</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_349">349</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Senses of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Illustrated from Il. xiii</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_352">352</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>On the force of the Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Force of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὰ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_356">356</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Illustrated from Il. ii. 353. Od. xxi. 141</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Il. i. 597. vii. 238. xii. 239, 249</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_359">359</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Il. xxiii. 335-7</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>From Il. ii. 526</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_362">362</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Application to Od. v. 277</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Another sense prevailed in later Greek</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><span class="larger">IV. AOIDOS.</span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. I.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>On the Plot of the Iliad.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Theory of Grote on the structure of the poem</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_366">366</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Offer related in the Ninth Book and its rejection</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_369">369</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Restitution and gifts not the object of Achilles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The offer was radically defective</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Apology needed in particular</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Consistency maintained in and after Il. ix</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_377">377</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Skilful adjustment of conflicting aims</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_379">379</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Glory given to Achilles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Glory given to Greece</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojan inferiority mainly in the Chiefs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_382">382</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>But it pervades the poem</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_384">384</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In the Chiefs it is glaring</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_385">385</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Conflicting exigencies of the plan</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_387">387</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Greeks superior even without Achilles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Harmony in relative prominence of the Chiefs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Retributive justice in the two poems</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_392">392</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The sufferings of Achilles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_394">394</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Double conquest over his will</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_395">395</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. II.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>The Sense of Beauty in Homer: human, animal, and inanimate.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>His sense of Beauty alike pure and strong</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_397">397</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Degeneracy of the popular idea had begun</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_398">398</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Illustrated by the series of Dardanid traditions, (1) Ganymede</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_398">398</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>(2) Tithonus, (3) Anchises</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_400">400</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>(4) Paris and Venus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_401">401</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s sense of Beauty in the human form</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_402">402</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His treatment of the Beauty of Paris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_402">402</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Beauty among the Greek chieftains</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_404">404</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Ascribed also to the nation</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Beauty of Nireus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_406">406</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of Nastes and of Euphorbus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_407">407</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Beauty placed among the prime gifts of man</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_408">408</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s sense of Beauty in animals</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_409">409</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Especially in horses</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_410">410</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>As to their movements</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_411">411</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>As to their form and colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_413">413</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s sense of Beauty in inanimate nature</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_416">416</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The instance of Ithaca</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_417">417</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Germ of feeling for the picturesque in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_419">419</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Close relation of Order and Beauty</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_420">420</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Causes adverse to the development of the germ</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_421">421</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Beauty of material objects absorbed in their Life</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_423">423</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. III.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Homer’s perception and use of Number.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>The traditional character of aptitudes</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_425">425</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Conceptions of Number not always definite in childhood</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_427">427</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Nor even in manhood</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_428">428</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>No calculations in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Greek estimate of the discovery of Number</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_431">431</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Enumerative addition in Od. iv. 412, 451</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Highest numerals of the poems</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The three hundred and sixty fat hogs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_434">434</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβὴ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_435">435</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The numerals expressive of value</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_436">436</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His silence as to the numbers of the armies</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_439">439</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Especially in the Greek Catalogue</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_440">440</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Case of the Trojan bivouac</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_442">442</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Case of the herds and flocks in Od. xiv.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_443">443</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Hesiod’s age of the Nymphs</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_444">444</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Case of the cities of Crete</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_445">445</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>No scheme of chronology in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_446">446</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Case of the three Decades of years</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_448">448</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Meaning of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_449">449</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer reckons time by generations</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_451">451</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Some difficulties of the Decades taken literally</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_452">452</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Uses of the proposed interpretation</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. IV.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Homer’s Perceptions and Use of Colour.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Modern perceptions of colour usually definite</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_457">457</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Signs of immature perception in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_458">458</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His chief adjectives of colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_459">459</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His quasi-adjectives of colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Applications of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_462">462</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_466">466</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The quasi-adjectives of colour; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_467">467</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλόεις</span> of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_468">468</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδόεις</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδοδάκτυλος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_469">469</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰόεις</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰοειδὴς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰοδνεφὴς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_470">470</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἴνοψ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_472">472</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἴθων</span> and its cognates; also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴολος</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_473">473</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γλαυκὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκῶπις</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκιόων</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_474">474</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Χάροπος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σιγαλόεις</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμάρεος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠεροειδὴς</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_475">475</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Conflict of the colours assigned to the same object</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_475">475</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Great predominance of white and black</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_476">476</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Remarkable omissions to specify colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_477">477</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In the case of the horse among others</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_479">479</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In the case of human beauty, and of Iris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_482">482</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In the case of the heavens</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_483">483</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Causes of this peculiar treatment of colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_483">483</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>License of poetry in the matter of colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_484">484</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Illustrated from Shakespeare</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_485">485</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s contracted means of training in colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_487">487</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His system one of light and dark</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_488">488</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Colour in the later Greek language</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_491">491</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Greek philosophy of colour</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_493">493</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Nature of our advantage over Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_495">495</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><i>Note on <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκός</span>.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Meanings for <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> heretofore suggested</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_496">496</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Probably a native blue carbonate of copper</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_497">497</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Χαλκὸς</span> to be understood as hardened copper</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_499">499</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. V.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Homer and some of his successors in Epic Poetry; particularly Virgil and Tasso.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Milton’s place among Epic poets</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_500">500</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Difficulty of comparing him with Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_501">501</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The same as to Dante</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_501">501</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Æneid and Iliad; their resemblances and contrasts</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_502">502</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Contrast between form and spirit in the Æneid</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_503">503</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Catalogue in the Iliad and in the Æneid</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_504">504</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Character of Æneas in the Æneid</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_505">505</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Character of Æneas in the Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_507">507</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The fine character of Turnus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_508">508</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The false position of Virgil before Augustus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_509">509</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Difficulty of learning the poet from the poem</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_510">510</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His false position as to religion, liberty, and nationality</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_511">511</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Untruthfulness hence resulting</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_512">512</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer is misapprehended through Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_513">513</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In minor matters, e. g. Simois and Scamander</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_513">513</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νεκυΐα</span> of Homer and of Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_515">515</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Ethnological and genealogical dislocations</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_516">516</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Action of the Twelfth Æneid</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_520">520</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Unfaithful imitations of details</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_521">521</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Maltreatment of the Homeric characters</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_522">522</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>And of the Homeric Mythology and Ethics</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_523">523</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Æneas and Dido in the Shades beneath</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_525">525</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The woman characters of Homer and Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_527">527</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Virgil’s insufficient care of minor proprieties</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_528">528</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>And of the order of natural phenomena</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_529">529</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Use of exaggeration in Homer and in Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_530">530</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Contrast of principal aims respectively</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_531">531</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Character of the Bard; not found in Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_532">532</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Post-Homeric change in the idea of the Poet’s office</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_533">533</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Virgil’s poetical disadvantages</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_534">534</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Comparison of the Trojan War with the Crusades</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_535">535</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Rinaldo and Achilles</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_535">535</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Exaggerations of bulk in Homer and in Tasso</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_536">536</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mr. Hallam’s judgment on the Jerusalem</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_537">537</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Tasso’s poetical disadvantages</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_538">538</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The man Achilles in relation to the Iliad</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_539">539</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Liberation of the Sepulchre in relation to the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerusalemme</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_540">540</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Intrusion of incongruous elements</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_542">542</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Relative prominence of Tancredi and Rinaldo</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_543">543</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Woman-characters of Tasso</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_544">544</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Armida of Tasso</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_545">545</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Her resemblances and inferiority to Dido</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_546">546</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Her passion ill-sustained</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_546">546</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Obtrusiveness of the amatory element</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_548">548</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Affront of Gernando</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_549">549</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Difference in modes of describing personages</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_551">551</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Battles and Similes of Tasso</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_552">552</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Inferiority of the Return in the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerusalemme</i></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_553">553</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Tasso’s greatness except as compared with Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_554">554</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. VI.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>Some principal Homeric Characters in Troy.<br />Hector: Helen: Paris.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s character-drawing power</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_555">555</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Corruption of the later tradition</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_556">556</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Why specially destructive in his case</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_557">557</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mure’s treatment of the Homeric characters</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_558">558</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The character of Hector set off with generalities</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_558">558</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>It became the basis for that of Orlando</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_559">559</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The martial heroism of Hector second-rate</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_559">559</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His boastfulness his only moral fault</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_561">561</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Hectoring and Rodomontading</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_562">562</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Hector’s sense of the guilt and shame of Paris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_563">563</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His responsibilities beyond his strength</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_565">565</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Brightness of his character as to the affections</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_567">567</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His piety, gentleness, and equity</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_568">568</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Inequality of his character as a whole</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_569">569</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Apparent reason for it</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_569">569</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Opposite views of the character of Helen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_571">571</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s intention with respect to it</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_572">572</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Two adverse mentions of her only</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_574">574</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homer’s epithets and simile for Helen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_575">575</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The case of Bathsheba</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_576">576</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>As to the free agency of Helen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_577">577</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Picture of Helen in Il. iii.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_572">572</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>In Il. vi., Il. xxiv., Od. iv.</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_581">581</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The marriage with Deiphobus</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_583">583</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>General estimate of the Homeric Helen</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_584">584</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The character of Paris</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_585">585</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His apathy, levity, and selfishness</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_586">586</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>His place in the War</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_587">587</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Relation of his intellect to his morality</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_588">588</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2">SECT. VII.</td></tr> -<tr><td class="center" colspan="2"><i>The declension of the great Homeric Characters in the later Tradition.</i></td></tr> -<tr><td>Physical conditions of the Greek Theatre</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_590">590</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Absolute dependence on the popular taste</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_592">592</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>General obliteration of the finer distinctions</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_593">593</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mutilation of the Helen of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_593">593</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Helen of Euripides</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_595">595</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of Isocrates and of Virgil</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_597">597</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Characters of Achilles and Ulysses in Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_598">598</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Mutilation of the Ulysses of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_601">601</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Of the Achilles of Homer</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_602">602</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Achilles of Statius</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_604">604</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Homeric characters in Seneca</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_605">605</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>New relative position of Trojans and Greeks</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_606">606</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Trojanism in England</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_608">608</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Imitations of Homeric characters by Tasso</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_609">609</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>The Troilus and Cressida</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_610">610</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Shirley’s Ajax and Ulysses</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_612">612</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Racine’s Iphigénie</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_613">613</a></td></tr> -<tr><td>Racine’s Andromaque</td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_614">614</a></td></tr> -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></td><td align="right"><a href="#Page_615">615</a></td></tr> -</table></div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">I. AGORÈ.<br /> - -<span class="smaller">THE POLITIES OF THE HOMERIC AGE.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>It is complained, and perhaps not without foundation, -that the study of the ancient historians does not supply -the youth of England with good political models: that, -if we adjust our sympathies and antipathies according -to the division of parties and classes offered to our -view in Rome, Athens, or Sparta, they will not be cast -in an English mould, but will come out in the cruder -forms of oligarchic or democratic prejudice. Now I do -not wait to inquire how far these defects may be supplied -by the political philosophers, and in particular by -the admirable treatise of Aristotle. And it certainly is -true, that in general they present to us a state of political -ideas and morals greatly deranged: the choice lies -between evil on this side in one form, and on that side in -another form: the characters, who can be recommended -as examples, are commonly in a minority or in exile. -Nor do I ask how far we ought to be content, having an -admirable range, so to speak, of anatomical models in our -hands, to lay aside the idea of attaching our sympathies -to what we see. I would rather incite the objector to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -examine and judge whether we may not find an admirable -school of polity, and see its fundamental ideas -exhibited under the truest and largest forms, in a quarter -where perhaps it would be the least expected, namely, -in the writings of Homer.</p> - -<p>As respects religion, arts, and manners, the Greeks -of the heroic age may be compared with other societies -in the infancy of man. But as respects political science -in its essential rudiments, and as respects the application -of those principles by way of art to the government -of mankind, we may say with almost literal truth -that they are the fathers of it; and Homer invites those -who study him to come and view it in its cradle, where -the infant carries every lineament in miniature, that we -can reasonably desire to see developed in manhood.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Strong development of political ideas.</i></div> - -<p>I cannot but deprecate the association established, -perhaps unintentionally, by Grote, where, throwing -Homer as he does into hotch-pot, so to speak, with the -‘legendary age,’ he expresses himself in his Preface<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>, -as follows. ‘It must be confessed that the sentimental -attributes of the Greek mind—its religious and poetical -vein—here appear in disproportionate relief, as compared -with its more vigorous and masculine capacities—with -those powers of acting, organizing, judging, and -speculating, which will be revealed in the forthcoming -volumes.’ If the sentimental attribute is to be contra-distinguished -from the powers, I will not say of speculating, -but of acting, organizing, and judging, then I -know of nothing less sentimental in the after-history of -Greece than the characters of Achilles and Ulysses, -than the relations of the Greek chiefs to one another -and to their people, than the strength and simplicity -which laid in those early times the foundation-stones of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -the Greek national character and institutions, and -made them in the social order the just counterparts of -the material structures that are now ascribed to the -Pelasgians; simple indeed in their elements, but so -durable and massive in their combination, as to be the -marvel of all time. The influences derived from these -sources were of such vitality and depth, that they -secured to an insignificant country a predominating -power for centuries, made one little point of the West an -effective bulwark against the East, and caused Greece -to throw out, to the right and left, so many branches -each greater than the trunk. Even when the sun of her -glory had set, there was yet left behind an immortal -spark of the ancient vitality, which, enduring through -all vicissitudes, kindled into a blaze after two thousand -years; and we of this day have seen a Greek nation, -founded anew by its own energies, become a centre of -desire and hope at least to Eastern Christendom. The -English are not ashamed to own their political forefathers -in the forests of the Northward European Continent; -and the later statesmen with the lawgivers of -Greece were in their day glad, and with reason glad, to -trace the bold outline and solid rudiments of their own -and their country’s greatness in the poems of Homer. -Nothing in those poems offers itself, to me at least, as -more remarkable, than the deep carving of the political -characters; and what is still more, the intense political -spirit which pervades them. I will venture one step -farther, and say that, of all the countries of the civilized -world, there is no one of which the inhabitants ought -to find that spirit so intelligible and accessible as the -English: because it is a spirit, that still largely lives and -breathes in our own institutions, and, if I mistake not, -even in the peculiarities of those institutions. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -we find the great cardinal ideas, which lie at the very -foundation of all enlightened government: and then we -find, too, the men formed under the influence of such -ideas; as one among ourselves, who has drunk into -their spirit, tells us;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Sagacious, men of iron, watchful, firm,</div> - <div class="verse">Against surprise and sudden panic proof.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And again,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">The sombre aspect of majestic care,</div> - <div class="verse">Of solitary thought, unshared resolve<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was surely a healthful sign of the working of -freedom, that in that early age, despite the prevalence -of piracy, even that idea of political justice and public -right, which is the germ of the law of nations, was -not unknown to the Greeks. It would appear that war -could not be made without an appropriate cause, and -that the offer of redress made it the duty of the injured -to come to terms. Hence the offer of Paris in the -Third Iliad is at once readily accepted: and hence, -even after the breach of the Pact, arises Agamemnon’s -fear, at the moment when he anticipates the death of -Menelaus, that by that event the claim to the restoration -of Helen will be practically disposed of, and the -Greeks will have to return home without reparation -for a wrong, of which the <i>corpus</i>, as it were, will have -disappeared<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a>.</p> - -<p>Before proceeding to sketch the Greek institutions -as they are exhibited in Homer, I will give a sketch -of the interesting account of them which is supplied -by Grote. I cite it more for contrast than for concurrence; -but it will assist materially in bringing out -into clear relief the points which are of the greatest -moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>Grote’s account of the Heroic Polities.</i></div> - -<p>The Greek States of the historic ages, says Grote, -always present to us something in the nature of a constitution, -as the condition of popular respect towards -the government, and of the sense of an obligation to -obey it<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a>. The man who broke down this constitution, -however wisely he might exercise his ill gotten power, -was branded by the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τύραννος</span>, or despot, “as an -object of mingled fear and dislike.” But in the heroic -age there is no system, still less any responsibility<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>: -obedience depends on personal reverence towards the -king or chief. Into those ‘great individual personalities, -the race or nation is absorbed<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>.’ Publicity indeed, -through the means of the council and assembly, -essentially pervades the whole system<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>; but it is a -publicity without consequences; for the people, when -they have heard, simply obey the orders of the king<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>. -Either resistance or criticism is generally exhibited as -odious, and is never heard of at all except from those -who are at the least subaltern chiefs: though the -council and assembly would in practice come to be restraints -upon the king, they are not so exhibited in -Homer<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>, but are simple <i>media</i> for supplying him with -information, and for promulgating his resolves<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a>. The -people may listen and sympathize, but no more. In -the assembly of the Second Iliad, a ‘repulsive picture’ -is presented to us of ‘the degradation of the mass of -the people before the chiefs<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a>.’ For because the common -soldiery, in conformity with the ‘unaccountable -fancy’ which Agamemnon had propounded, made ready -to go home, Ulysses belabours them with blows and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -covers them with scornful reproofs<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a>; and the unpopularity -of a presumptuous critic, even when he is in substance -right, is shown, partly by the strokes that Ulysses -inflicts upon Thersites, but still more by the hideous -deformities with which Homer has loaded him.</p> - -<p>It is, I think, in happy inconsistency with these representations, -that the historian proceeds to say, that -by means of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀγορὴ</span> we are enabled to -trace the employment of public speaking, as the standing -engine of government and the proximate cause of -obedience, ‘up to the social infancy of the nation<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a>.’ -But if, in order to make this sentence harmonize with -what precedes and follows it, we are to understand that -the Homeric poems present to us no more than the dry -fact that public speaking was in use, and are to infer -that it did not acquire its practical meaning and power -until a later date, then I must include it in the general -protest which I beg leave to record against the greater -part of the foregoing propositions, in their letter and in -their spirit, as being neither warranted in the way of -inference from Homer, nor in any manner consistent -with the undeniable facts of the poems.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Their use of Publicity and Persuasion.</i></div> - -<p>Personal reverence from the people to the sovereign, -associated with the duties he discharges, with the high -attributes he does or should possess, and with the divine -favour, or with a reputed relationship to the gods, attaching -to him, constitutes the primitive form in which -the relation of the prince and the subject is very commonly -cast in the early stages of society elsewhere -than among the Greeks. What is sentimental, romantic, -archaic, or patriarchal in the Homeric polities -is common to them with many other patriarchal or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -highland governments. But that which is beyond every -thing distinctive not of Greece only, but of Homeric -Greece, is, that along with an outline of sovereignty and -public institutions highly patriarchal, we find the full, -constant, and effective use, of two great instruments of -government, since and still so extensively in abeyance -among mankind; namely, publicity and persuasion. I -name these two great features of the politics and institutions -of the heroic age, in order to concentrate upon -them the marked attention which I think they deserve. -And I venture to give to this paper the name of the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀγορὴ</span>, because it was the Greek Assembly of those -days, which mainly imparted to the existing polities -their specific spirit as well as features. Amid undeveloped -ideas, rude methods, imperfect organization, -and liability to the frequent intrusion of the strong -hand, there lies in them the essence of a popular principle -of government, which cannot, I believe, plead on its -behalf any other precedent so ancient and so venerable.</p> - -<p>As is the boy, so is the man. As is the seed, so is -the plant. The dove neither begets, nor yet grows into -the eagle. How came it that the prime philosophers -of full-grown Greece gave to the science of Politics -the very highest place in the scale of human knowledge? -That they, kings in the region of abstract -thought, for the first and perhaps the only time in the -history of the world, came to think they discerned in -the turbid eddies of state affairs the image of the -noblest thing for man, the noblest that speculation as -well as action could provide for him? Aristotle says -that, of all sciences, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πολιτικὴ</span> is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡ κυριωτάτη καὶ μάλιστα -ἀρχιτεκτονική</span><a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a>; and that ethical science constitutes but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -a branch of it, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολιτική τις οὖσα</span>. Whence, I ask, did -this Greek idea come? It is not the Greece, but it is -the Rome of history, which the judgment and experience -of the world has taken as its great teacher in the -mere business of law and political organization. For so -lofty a theory (a theory without doubt exaggerated) -from so practical a person as Aristotle, we must assume -a corresponding elevation of source. I cannot help -believing that the source is to be found rather in the -infancy, than in the maturity, of Greek society. As -I read Homer, the real first foundations of political -science were laid in the heroic age, with a depth and -breadth exceeding in their proportions any fabric, however -imposing, that the after-time of Greece was able -to rear upon them. That after-time was in truth infected -with a spirit of political exaggeration, from -which the heroic age was free.</p> - -<p>We shall have to examine the political picture presented -by the heroic age with reference to the various -classes into which society was distinguished in its normal -state of peace: to the organization of the army in -war, and its mixture of civil with military relations: -to the institutions which embodied the machinery of -government, and to the powers by which that machinery -was kept in motion.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Functions of the King.</i></div> - -<p>Let us begin with the King; who constituted at -once the highest class in society, and the centre of its -institutions.</p> - -<p>The political regimen of Greece, at the period immediately -preceding the Trojan war, appears to have been -that described by Thucydides, when he says that the -tyrannies, which had come in with the increase of -wealth, were preceded by hereditary monarchies with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -limited prerogatives<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a>: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρότερον δὲ ἦσαν ἐπὶ ῥητοῖς γέρασι -πατρικαὶ βασιλεῖαι</span>. And again by Aristotle; -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεία ... ἡ περὶ τοὺς ἡρωικοὺς χρόνους ... ἦν ἑκόντων -μὲν, ἐπὶ τισὶ δὲ ὡρισμένοις· στρατηγὸς γὰρ ἦν καὶ δικαστὴς -ὁ βασιλεὺς, καὶ τῶν περὶ τοὺς θεοὺς κύριος</span>. The threefold -function of the King was to command the army, to -administer justice chiefly, though not exclusively, between -man and man, and to conduct the rites of -religion<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a>.</p> - -<p>Independently of sovereignties purely local, we find -in Homer traces of a maritime Cretan empire, which -had recently passed away: and we find a subsisting -Pelopid empire, which appears to have been the first -of its kind, at least on the Greek mainland. For the -Pelopid sceptre was not one taken over from the Perseids: -it was obtained through Mercury, that is, probably -through contrivance, from Jupiter: and the -difference probably consisted in one or both of these -two particulars. It comprehended the whole range of -continental Greece, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πᾶν Ἄργος</span>, to which are added, -either at once or in its progressive extension, the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολλαὶ νῆσοι</span> (Il. ii. 108) of the Minoan empire. Besides -this, it consisted of a double sovereignty: one, a -suzerainty or supremacy over a number of chiefs, each -of whom conducted the ordinary government of his -own dominions; the other, a direct, though perhaps -not always an effective control, not only over an hereditary -territory, but over the unclaimed residue of -minor settlements and principalities in the country. -This inference may, I think, be gathered from the fact -that we find the force of Agamemnon before Troy -drawn exclusively from his Mycenian dominions, while -he had claims of tribute from towns in the south-west<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -of Peloponnesus, which lay at some distance from his -centre of power, and which apparently furnished no -aid in the war of Troy.</p> - -<p>The Pheræ of Diocles lay on the way from Pylos to -Sparta: and Pheræ is one of the towns which Agamemnon -promised to Achilles. It should, however, be -borne in mind that, as the family of names to which -Pheræ belonged was one so largely dispersed, we must -not positively assume the identity of the two towns.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Degrees in Kingship and in Lordship.</i></div> - -<p>Kingship in Homer is susceptible of degree; it is -one thing for the local sovereignties, such as those of -Nestor or Ulysses, and another for the great supremacy -of Agamemnon, which overrode them. Still the Greek -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> in the Iliad constitute a class by themselves; -a class that comprises the greater leaders and warriors, -who immediately surround Agamemnon, the head of -the army.</p> - -<p>Of by much the greater part even of chiefs and -leaders of contingents, it is plain from the poem that -though they were lords (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνακτες</span>) of a certain tribe or -territory, they were not <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> or kings.</p> - -<p>These chiefs and lords again divide themselves into two -classes: one is composed of those who had immediate -local heads, such as Phœnix, lord of the Dolopes, under -Peleus at Phthia, probably Sthenelus under Diomed, -and perhaps also Meriones under Idomeneus: the other -is the class of chieftains, to which order the great majority -belong, owning no subordination to any prince -except to Agamemnon. Among these, again, there is -probably a distinction between those sub-chiefs who -owned him as a local sovereign, and those who were -only subject to him as the head of the great Greek -confederation.</p> - -<p>It is probable that the subordination of the sub-chief<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -to his local sovereign was a closer tie than that of the -local sovereign to the head of Greece. For, according -to the evidence supplied by the promises of Agamemnon -to Achilles<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a>, tribute was payable by the lords of -towns to their immediate political superior: not a -tribute in coined money, which did not exist, nor one -fixed in quantity; but a benevolence (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δωτίνη</span>), which must -have consisted in commodities. Metals, including the -precious metals, would, however, very commonly be -the medium of acquittance. Again, we find these sub-chiefs -invested with dominion by the local sovereign, -residing at his court, holding a subaltern command in -his army. All these points are combined in the case of -Phœnix. On the other hand, as to positive duty or -service, we know of none that a sovereign like Nestor -owed to Agamemnon, except it were to take a part in -enterprises of national concern under his guidance. But -the distinction of rank between them is clear. Evidently -on account of his relation to Agamemnon, -Menelaus is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύτερος</span>, higher in mere kingship, or -more a king, than the other chiefs: Agamemnon -boasts<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> that he is greatly the superior of Achilles, or -of any one else in the army; and in the Ninth Book -Achilles seems to refer with stinging, nay, rather with -slaying irony, to this claim of greater kingliness for -the Pelopids, when he rejects the offer of the hand of -any one among Agamemnon’s daughters; No! let him -choose another son-in-law, who may be worthy of him, -and who is more a king than I<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὅστις οἷ τ’ ἐπέοικε, καὶ ὃς βασιλεύτερός ἐστιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But although one <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> might thus be higher -than another, the rank of the whole body of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλῆες</span> -is, on the whole, well and clearly marked off, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -consistent language of the Iliad, from all inferior -ranks: and this combination may remind us in some -degree of the British peerage, which has its own internal -distinctions of grade, but which is founded essentially -upon parity, and is sharply severed from all the -other orders of the community. We shall presently -see how this proposition is made good.</p> - -<p>It thus far appears, that we find substantially, though -not very determinately, distinguished, the following -forms of larger and lesser Greek sovereignty:</p> - -<p>I. That held by Agamemnon, as the head of Greece.</p> - -<p>II. The local kings, some of them considerable enough -to have other lords or princes (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνακτες</span>) under them.</p> - -<p>III. The minor chiefs of contingents; who, though -not kings, were princes or lords (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνακτες</span>), and governed -separate states of their own: such as Thoas for Ætolia, -and Menestheus for Athens.</p> - -<p>IV. The petty and scattered chiefs, of whom we can -hardly tell how far any account is taken in the Catalogue, -but who belonged, in some sense, to Agamemnon, -by belonging to no one else.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>First tokens of change in the Heroic Polities.</i></div> - -<p>There are signs, contained in the Iliad itself, that -the primitive monarchies, the nature and spirit of which -will presently be examined, were beginning to give -way even at the time of the expedition to Troy. The -growth of the Pelopid empire was probably unfavourable -to their continuance. In any case, the notes of -commencing change will be found clear enough.</p> - -<p>Minos had ruled over all Crete as king; but Idomeneus, -his grandson, is nowhere mentioned as the king -of that country, of which he appears to have governed -a part only. Among obvious tokens of this fact are -the following. The cities which furnish the Cretan -contingent are all contained in a limited portion of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -that island. Now, although general words are employed -(Il. ii. 649.) to signify that the force was not drawn -from these cities exclusively, yet Homer would probably -have been more particular, had other places made -any considerable contribution, than to omit the names -of them all. Again, Crete, though so large and rich, -furnishes a smaller contingent than Pylos. And, once -more, if it had been united in itself, it is very doubtful -whether any ruler of so considerable a country would -have been content that it should stand only as a province -of the empire of Agamemnon. In the many -passages of either poem which mention Idomeneus, he -is never decorated with a title implying, like that of -Minos (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κρήτῃ ἐπίουρος</span>), that he was ruler of the whole -island. Indeed, one passage at least appears to bear -pretty certain evidence to the contrary. For Ulysses, -in his fabulous but of course self-consistent narration -to Minerva, shows us that even the Cretan force in -Troy was not thoroughly united in allegiance to a -single head. ‘The son of Idomeneus,’ he says, ‘endeavoured -to deprive me of my share of the spoil, -because I did not obey his father in Troas, but led -a band of my own:’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὕνεκ’ ἄρ’ οὐχ ᾧ πατρὶ χαριζόμενος θεράπευον</div> - <div class="verse">δήμῳ ἔνι Τρώων, ἀλλ’ ἄλλων ἦρχον ἑταίρων<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So likewise in the youth of Nestor, two generations -back, Augeias appears as the sole king of the Epeans; -but, in the Catalogue, his grandson Polyxeinus only -commands one out of the four Epean divisions of ten -ships each, without any sign of superiority: of the other -three, two are commanded by generals of the Actorid -family, which in the earlier legend appears as part of -the court or following of Augeias<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a>. And wherever we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -find in the case of any considerable Greek contingent -the chief command divided among persons other than -brothers, we may probably infer that there had been -a breaking up of the old monarchical and patriarchal -system. This point deserves more particular inquiry.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Shown by analysis of the Catalogue.</i></div> - -<p>In the Greek armament, there are twenty-nine contingents -in all.</p> - -<p>Of these, twenty-three are under a single head; -with or without assistants who, where they appear, are -described as having been secondary.</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<table class="right" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="left">1. Locrians</td><td>with 40</td><td>ships.</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">2. Eubœans</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">3. Athenians</td><td>50</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">4. Salaminians</td><td>12</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">5. Argives</td><td>80</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">6. Mycenians</td><td>100</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">7. Lacedæmonians</td><td>60</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">8. Pylians</td><td>90</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">9. Arcadians</td><td>60</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">10. Dulichians &c.</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">11. Cephallenians</td><td>12</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">12. Ætolians</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">13. Cretans</td><td>80</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">14. Rhodians</td><td>9</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">15. Symeans</td><td>3</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">16. Myrmidons</td><td>50</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">17. Phthians of Phylace</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">18. Phereans, &c.</td><td>11</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">19. Phthians of Methone &c.</td><td>7</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">20. Ormenians &c.</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">21. Argissans &c.</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">22. Cyphians &c.</td><td>22</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">23. Magnesians</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td></td><td class="btop">966</td><td>ships.</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>Under brothers united in command, there were four -more contingents:</p> - - -<div class="center"> -<table class="right" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td align="left">1. Of Aspledon and Orchomenus,</td><td>with 30</td><td>ships.</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">2. Of Phocians</td><td>40</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">3. Of Nisuros, Cos &c.</td><td>30</td></tr> -<tr><td align="left">4. Of Tricce &c.</td><td>30</td></tr> -<tr><td></td><td class="btop">130</td><td>ships.</td></tr> -</table></div> -<p>In all these cases, comprising the whole armament -except from two states, the old form of government -seems to have continued. The two exceptions are:</p> - -<p> -1. Bœotians; with 50 ships, under five leaders.<br /> -2. Elians; with 40 ships, under four leaders.<br /> -</p> - -<p>It is quite clear that these two divisions were -acephalous. As to the Elians, because the Catalogue -expressly divides the 40 ships into four squadrons, and -places one under each leader, two of these being of -the Actorid house, and a third descended from Augeias. -As to the Bœotians, the Catalogue indicates the equality -of the leaders by placing the five names in a series -under the same category.</p> - -<p>An indirect but rather strong confirmation is afforded -by the passage in the Thirteenth Book<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a>, where five -Greek races or divisions are engaged in the endeavour -to repel Hector from the rampart. They are,</p> - -<p>1. Bœotians.</p> - -<p>2. Athenians (or Ionians), under Menestheus, seconded -by Pheidas, Stichios, and Bias.</p> - -<p>3. Locrians.</p> - -<p>4. Epeans (of Dulichium &c.) under Meges, son of -Phyleus, with Amphion, and Drakios. The addition of -the patronymic to Meges seems in this place to mark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -his position; which is distinctly defined as the chief one -in the Catalogue, by his being mentioned there alone.</p> - -<p>5. Phthians, under Medon and Podarces. These -supplied two contingents, numbered 17 and 19 respectively -in the list just given; and they constituted separate -commands, though of the same race.</p> - -<p>It will be remarked that the Poet enumerates the -commanders of the Athenians, Epeans, and Phthians; -but not of the Locrians and Bœotians. Obviously, in the -case of the Locrians, the reason is, that Oilean Ajax, a -king and chief of the first rank, and a person familiar -to us in every page, was their leader. Such a person -he never mixes on equal terms with secondary commanders, -or puts to secondary duties; and the text immediately -proceeds to tell us he was with the Telamonian -Ajax<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a>. But why does it not name the Bœotian leader? -Probably, we may conjecture, because that force had -no one commander in chief, but were an aggregation -of independent bodies, whom ties of blood or neighbourhood -drew together in the armament and in action.</p> - -<p>Having thus endeavoured to mark the partial and -small beginnings of disorganization in the ancient form -of government, let us now observe the character of the -particular spots where they are found. These districts -by no means represent, in their physical characteristics, -the average character of Greece. In the first place, they -are both on the highway of the movement between -North and South. In the second, they both are open -and fertile countries; a distinction which, in certain local -positions, at certain stages of society, not only does not -favour the attainment of political power, but almost -precludes its possession. The Elis of Homer is marked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -by two epithets having a direct reference to fertility -of soil; it is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππόβοτος</span>, horse-feeding, and it is also -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρύχορος</span>, wide-spaced or open. Again, the twenty-nine -towns assigned in the Catalogue to the Bœotians far -exceed in number those which are named for any other -division of Greece. We have other parallel indications; -such as the wealth of Orchomenos<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a>; and of Orestius with -the variegated girdle. He dwelt in Hyle, one of the -twenty-nine, amidst other Bœotians who held a district -of extreme fertility<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάλα πίονα δῆμον ἔχοντες</span>. Now -when we find signs like these in Homer, that Elis and -Bœotia had been first subjected to revolution, not in the -shape of mere change of dynasty, but in the decomposition, -so to speak, of their ancient forms of monarchy, -we must again call to mind that Thucydides<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a>, when he -tells us that the best lands underwent the most frequent -social changes by the successions of new inhabitants, -names Bœotia, and ‘most of Peloponnesus’ as examples -of the kind of district to which his remark applied.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, the organization of the armament -for Troy shows us the ancient monarchical system intact -in by far the greater part of Greece. But when we -come to the Odyssey, we find increasing signs of serious -changes; which doubtless were then preparing the way, -by the overthrow of old dynasties, for the great Dorian -invasion. And it is here worth while to remark a -great difference. The mere supervention of one race -upon another, the change from a Pelasgian to an Hellenic -character, does not appear to have entailed alterations -nearly so substantial in the character and stability -of Hellenic government, as did the Trojan expedition; -which, by depriving societies of their natural heads, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -of the fighting men of the population, left an open -field to the operation of disorganizing causes.</p> - -<p>Strabo has a remarkable passage, though one in -which he makes no particular reference to Homer, on -the subject of the invasions and displacements of one -race by another. These, he says<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a>, had indeed been -known before the Trojan war: but it was immediately -upon the close of the war, and then after that period, -that they gained head: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάλιστα μὲν οὖν κατὰ τὰ Τρωικὰ, -καὶ μετὰ ταῦτα, τὰς ἐφόδους γένεσθαι καὶ τὰς μεταναστάσεις -συνέβη, τῶν τε βαρβάρων ἅμα καὶ τῶν Ἑλλήνων ὁρμῇ -τινὶ χρησαμένων πρὸς τὴν τῶν ἀλλοτρίων κατάκτησιν</span>. Of -this the Odyssey affords some curious indications.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Extended signs in the Odyssey.</i></div> - -<p>Among many alleged and some real shades of difference -between the poems, we may note two of a -considerable political significance: the word <i>King</i> in -the Odyssey has acquired a more lax signification, and -the word <i>Queen</i>, quite unknown to the Iliad, has come -into free use.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Altered meaning of ‘King.’</i></div> - -<p>It will be shown how strictly, in the Iliad, the term -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, with its appropriate epithets, is limited to the -very first persons of the Greek armament. Now in the -Odyssey there are but two States, with the organization -of which we have occasion to become in any degree -acquainted: one of them Scheria, the other Ithaca. -Of the first we do not see a great deal, and the force -of the example is diminished by the avowedly mythical -or romantic character of the delineation: but the fact -is worthy of note, that in Scheria we find there are -twelve kings of the country, with Alcinous<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a>, the thirteenth, -as their superior and head. It is far more important -and historically significant that, in the limited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -and comparatively poor dominions of Ulysses, there are -now many kings. For Telemachus says<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀλλ’ ἤτοι βασιλῆες Ἀχαιῶν εἰσὶ καὶ ἄλλοι</div> - <div class="verse">πολλοὶ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ, νέοι ἠδὲ παλαιοί.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His meaning must be to refer to the number of nobles -who were now collected, from Cephallonia and the -other dominions of Ulysses, into that island. The observation -is made by him in reply to the Suitor Antinous, -who had complained of his bold language, and -hoped he never would be king in Ithaca<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">μὴ σέ γ’ ἐν ἀμφιάλῳ Ἰθάκῃ βασιλῆα Κρονίων</div> - <div class="verse">ποιήσειεν, ὅ τοι γενεῇ πατρώϊόν ἐστιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It is, I think, clear, that in this place Antinous does -not mean merely, ‘I hope you will not become one of -us,’ which might be said in reference merely to the -contingency of his assuming the controul of his paternal -estates, but that he refers to the sovereignty properly so -called: for Telemachus, after having said there are -many <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> in Ithaca, proceeds to say, ‘Let one of -them be chosen’, or ‘one of these may be chosen, to -succeed Ulysses;’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τῶν κέν τις τόδ’ ἔχῃσιν, ἐπεὶ θάνε δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>‘but let me,’ he continues, ‘be master of my own house -and property.’ Thus we have <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> bearing two -senses in the very same passage. First, it means the -noble, of whom there are many in the country, and it -is here evidently used in an improper sense; secondly, it -means the person who rules the whole of them, and it -is here as evidently employed in its original and proper -signification. It seems very doubtful, however, whether, -even in the Odyssey, the relaxed sense ever appears as a -simple title in the singular number. The only signs of -it are these; Antinous is told that he is <i>like</i> a king<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -appearance; and he is also expressly called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> in the -strongly and generally suspected <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νεκυΐα</span> of the Twenty-fourth -Book<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a>. So again, the kingly epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφὴς</span> -is not used in the singular for any one below the rank -of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> of the Iliad, except once, where, in addressing -Agelaus the Suitor, it is employed by Melanthius, -the goatherd, one of the subordinate adherents -and parasites of that party<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a>.</p> - -<p>This relaxation in the sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, definite and -limited as is its application in the Iliad, is no inconsiderable -note of change.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>New name of Queen.</i></div> - -<p>Equally, or more remarkable, is the introduction in -the Odyssey of the words <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δέσποινα</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασίλεια</span>, and -the altered use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνασσα</span>.</p> - -<p>1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δέσποινα</span> is applied, Od. iii. 403, to the wife of -Pisistratus, son of Nestor; to Arete, queen of the -Phæacians, Od. vii. 53, 347; to Penelope, Od. xiv. 9, -127, 451; xv. 374, 7; xvii. 83; xxiii. 2.</p> - -<p>2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνασσα</span> is applied in the Iliad, xiv. 326, to Ceres -only; but in the Odyssey, besides Minerva, in Od. iii. -380, Ulysses applies it twice to Nausicaa, in Od. vi. -149, 175; apparently in some doubt whether she is a -divinity or a mortal. I would not however dwell -strongly on this distinction between the poems; for we -seem to find substantially the human use of the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνασσα</span> in the name of Agamemnon’s daughter, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἰφιάνασσα</span>, -which is used in Il. ix. 145.</p> - -<p>3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασίλεια</span> is used many times in the Odyssey; and -is applied to</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>a.</i> Nausicaa, Od. vi. 115.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> Tyro, daughter of Salmoneus, Od. xi. 258; but -only in the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασίλεια γυναικῶν</span>, which seems to resemble -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῖα γυναικῶν</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>c.</i> Arete, queen of the Phæacians, Od. xiii. 59.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> Penelope, Od. xvi. 332, 7: and elsewhere.</p></div> - -<p>Now it cannot be said that the use of the word is -forborne in the Iliad from the want of fit persons to -bear it; for Hecuba, as the wife of Priam, and Helen, -as the wife of Paris, possibly also Andromache, (though -this is much more doubtful<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a>,) were all of a rank to have -received it: nor can we account for its absence by their -appearing only as Trojans; for the title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> is -frequently applied to Priam, and it is likewise assigned -to Paris, though to no other member of the Trojan -royal family.</p> - -<p>We have also two other cases in the Iliad of women -who were queens of some kind. One is that of Hypsipyle, -who apparently exercised supreme power<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> in -Lemnos, but we are left to inference as to its character: -the other is the mother of Andromache<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἣ βασίλευεν ὑπὸ Πλάκῳ ὑληέσσῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>She was what we term a Queen consort, for her husband -Eetion was alive at the time. In the Odyssey we are -told that Chloris, whom Neleus married, reigned at -Pylos; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡ δὲ Πύλου βασίλευε</span>, Od. xi. 285. In this place -the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύειν</span> may perhaps imply the exercise of -sovereign power. Be this as it may, the introduction of -the novel title of Queen betokens political movement.</p> - -<p>There are other signs of advancing change in the -character of kingship discernible from the Odyssey, -which will be more conveniently considered hereafter. -In the meantime, the two which are already before us -are, it will be observed, exactly in the direction we -might expect from the nature of the Trojan war, and -from the tradition of Strabo. We have before us an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -effort of the country amounting to a violent, and also an -unnaturally continued strain; a prolonged absence of -its best heads, its strongest arms, its most venerated -authorities: wives and young children, infants of necessity -in many cases, remain at home. It was usual -no doubt for a ruler, on leaving his country, to appoint -some guardian to remain behind him, as we see from -the case of Agamemnon, (Od. iii. 267,) and from the -language of Telemachus, (Od. xv. 89); but no regent, -deputy, or adviser, could be of much use in that stage -of society. Again, in every class of every community, -there are boys rapidly passing into manhood; they form -unawares a new generation, and the heat of their young -blood, in the absence of vigorous and established controul, -stirs, pushes forward, and innovates. Once more, -as extreme youth, so old age likewise was ordinarily a -disqualification for war. And as we find Laertes and -Peleus, and Menœtius, with Admetus, besides probably -other sovereigns whom Homer has not named to us, left -behind on this account, so there must have been many -elderly men of the class of nobles (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες, ἔξοχοι ἄνδρες</span>) -who obtained exemption from actual service in the war. -There is too every appearance that, in some if not all -the states of Greece, there had been those who escaped -from service on other grounds; perhaps either from belonging -to the elder race, which was more peculiarly -akin to Troy, or from local jealousies, or from the love -of ease. For in Ithaca we find old men, contemporaries -and seniors of Ulysses, who had taken no part in -the expedition; and there are various towns mentioned -in different parts of the poems, which do not appear -from the Catalogue to have made any contribution to -the force. Such were possibly the various places bearing -the name of Ephyre, and with higher likelihood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -the towns offered by Agamemnon to be made over to -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Disorganization caused by the War.</i></div> - -<p>Again, as Cinyres<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> the ruler of Cyprus, and Echepolus<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> -the son of Anchises, obtained exemption by -means of gifts to Agamemnon, so may others, both -rulers and private individuals, have done. But the two -main causes, which would probably operate to create -perturbation in connection with the absence of the -army, were, without much doubt, first, the arrival of -a new race of youths at a crude and intemperate -manhood; and secondly, the unadjusted relations in -some places of the old Pelasgian and the new Hellenic -settlers. Their differences, when the pressure of the -highest established authority had been removed, would -naturally in many places spring up afresh. In conformity -with the first of these causes, the Suitors as a -body are called very commonly <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νεοὶ ὑπερηνορέοντες</span><a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a>, -‘the domineering youths.’ And the circumstances -under which Ulysses finds himself, when he has returned -to Ithaca, appear to connect themselves also with -the latter of the above-named causes. But, whatever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -the reasons, it is plain that his position had become -extremely precarious. Notwithstanding his wealth, -ability, and fame, he did not venture to appeal to the -people till he had utterly destroyed his dangerous enemies; -and even then it was only by his promptitude, -strength of hand, and indomitable courage, that he -succeeded in quelling a most formidable sedition.</p> - -<p>Nothing, then, could be more natural, than that, in -the absence of the sovereigns, often combined with the -infancy of their children, the mother should become -the depositary of an authority, from which, as we see -by other instances, her sex does not appear to have -excluded her: and that if, as is probable, the instances -were many and simultaneous, this systematic character -given to female rule should have its formal result on -language in the creation of the word Queen, and its -twin phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δέσποινα</span>, or Mistress. The extension of the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνασσα</span> from divinities to mortals might result -from a subaltern operation of the same causes.</p> - -<p>In the very same manner, the diminished force of -authority at its centre would increase the relative prominence -of such among the nobles as remained at -home. On reaching to manhood, they would in some -cases, as in Ithaca, find themselves practically independent. -The natural result would be, that having, -though on a small scale, that is to say, so far probably -as their own properties and neighbourhoods respectively -were concerned, much of the substance of sovereignty -actually in their hands, they should proceed to arrogate -its name. Hence come the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> of Ithaca and the -islands near it; some of them young men, who had -become adult since the departure of Ulysses, others of -them old, who, remaining behind him, had found their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -position effectively changed, if not by the fact of his departure, -yet by the prolongation of his absence.</p> - -<p>The relaxed use, then, of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> in the -Odyssey, and the appearance of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασίλεια</span> and -of others in a similar category, need not qualify the proposition -above laid down with respect to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> -of the Iliad. He, as we shall see from the facts of the -poem, stands in a different position, and presents to -us a living picture of the true heroic age<a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Altered idea of the Kingly office.</i></div> - -<p>This change in the meaning of the word King was -accompanied by a corresponding change in the idea of -the great office which it betokened. It had descended -from a more noble to a less noble type. I do not mean -by this that it had now first submitted to limitations. -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> of the Greeks was always and essentially -limited: and hence probably it was, that the usurper of -sole and indefinite power in the state was so essentially -and deeply odious to the Greeks, because it was felt -that he had plundered the people of a treasure, namely, -free government, which they and their early forefathers -had possessed from time immemorial.</p> - -<p>It is in the Odyssey that we are first startled by -meeting not only a wider diffusion and more lax use of -the name of king, but together with this change another -one; namely, a lower conception of the kingly office. -The splendour of it in the Iliad is always associated -with duty. In the simile where Homer speaks of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -corrupt governors, that draw down the vengeance of -heaven on a land by crooked judgments, it is worthy -of remark, that he avoids the use of the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύς</span><a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">ὅτε δή ῥ’ ἄνδρεσσι κοτεσσάμενος χαλεπήνῃ,</div> - <div class="verse">οἳ βίῃ εἰν ἀγορῇ σκολίας κρίνωσι θέμιστας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The worst thing that is even hinted at as within the -limits of possibility, is slackness in the discharge of the -office: it never degenerates into an instrument of oppression -to mankind. But in the Odyssey, which evidently -represents with fidelity the political condition of -Greece after the great shock of the Trojan war, we find -that kingship has come to be viewed by some mainly -with reference to the enjoyment of great possessions, -which it implied or brought, and as an object on that -account of mere ambition. Not of what we should -call absolutely vicious ambition: it is not an absolute -perversion, but it is a clear declension in the idea, that -I here seek to note</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἦ φῂς τοῦτο κάκιστον ἐν ἀνθρώποισι τετύχθαι;</div> - <div class="verse">οὐ μὲν γάρ τι κακὸν βασιλευέμεν· αἶψά τέ οἱ δῶ</div> - <div class="verse">ἀφνειὸν πέλεται, καὶ τιμηέστερος αὐτός.<a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This general view of the office as one to be held for -the personal enjoyment of the incumbent, is broadly -distinguished from such a case as that in the Iliad, -where Agamemnon, offering seven cities to Achilles<a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a>, -strives to tempt him individually by a particular inducement, -drawn from his own undoubtedly rather -sordid mind;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἵ κέ ἑ δωτίνῃσι θεὸν ὣς τιμήσουσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The moral causes of this change are in a great degree -traceable to the circumstances of the war, and we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -seem to see how the conception above expressed was -engendered in the mind of Mentor, when he observes<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a>, -that it is now useless for a king to be wise and benevolent -like Ulysses, who was gentle like a father to his people, -in order that, like Ulysses, he may be forgotten: so -that he may just as well be lawless in character, and -oppressive in action. The same ideas are expressed by -Minerva<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> in the very same words, at the second Olympian -meeting in the Odyssey. It would therefore thus -appear, that this particular step downwards in the character -of the governments of the heroic age was owing -to the cessation, through prolonged absence, of the influence -of the legitimate sovereigns, and to consequent -encroachment upon their moderate powers.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Instance of a bad King.</i></div> - -<p>And it is surely well worthy of remark that we find -in this very same poem the first exemplification of the -character of a bad and tyrannical monarch, in the person -of a certain king Echetus; of whom all we know -is, that he lived somewhere upon the coast of Epirus, -and that he was the pest of all mortals that he had to -do with. With great propriety, it is the lawless Suitors -who are shown to be in some kind of relation with him; -for in the Eighteenth Odyssey they threaten<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> to send -Irus, who had annoyed them in his capacity of a beggar, -to king Echetus, that he might have his nose and ears -cut off, and be otherwise mutilated. The same threat -is repeated in the Twenty-first Book against Ulysses -himself, and the line that conveys it reappears as one of -the Homeric <i>formulæ</i><a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">εἰς Ἔχετον βασιλῆα, βροτῶν δηλήμονα πάντων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Probably this Echetus was a purchaser of slaves. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -is little likely that the Suitors would have taken the -trouble of sending Irus away, rather than dispose of -him at home, except with the hope of a price; as they -suggest to Telemachus to ship off Theoclymenus and -Ulysses (still disguised) to the Sicels, among whom -they will sell well<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Kingship in the age of Hesiod.</i></div> - -<p>The kingship, of which the features were so boldly -and fairly defined in the Homeric age, soon passed -away; and was hardly to be found represented by any -thing but its <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φθορὰ</span>, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τυραννὶς</span> or despotism, which -neither recognised limit nor rested upon reverence or -upon usage, but had force for its foundation, was essentially -absolute, and could not, according to the conditions -of our nature, do otherwise than rapidly and -ordinarily degenerate into the positive vices, which -have made the name of tyrant ‘a curse and a hissing’ -over the earth. In Hesiod we find what Homer nowhere -furnishes; an odious epithet attached to the -whole class of kings. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεῖοι βασιλῆες</span> of the heroic -age have disappeared: they are now sometimes the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰδοῖοι</span> still, but sometimes the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δωρόφαγοι</span>, the gift-greedy, -instead. They desire that litigation should increase, -for the sake of the profits that it brings them<a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">μέγα κυδαίνων βασιλῆας</div> - <div class="verse">δωροφάγους, οἳ τήνδε δίκην ἐθέλουσι δικάσσαι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The people has now to expiate the wickedness of these -corrupted kings;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ὀφρ’ ἀποτίσῃ</div> - <div class="verse">δῆμος ἀτασθαλίας βασιλέων·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>A Shield of Achilles, manufactured after the fashion -of the Hesiodic age, would not have given us, for the -pattern of a king, one who stood smiling in his fields<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -behind his reapers as they felled the corn<a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a>. Yet while -Hesiod makes it plain that he had seen kingship degraded -by abuse, he has also shown us, that his age -retained the ideas both that justice was its duty, and that -persuasion was the grand basis of its power. For, as he -says in one of his few fine passages<a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a>, at the birth of a -king, the Muses pour dew upon his tongue, that he -may have the gift of gentle speech, and may administer -strict justice to the people. He then, or the ancient -writer who has interpolated him, goes on to describe -the work of royal oratory, in thoughts chiefly borrowed -from the poems of Homer. But the increase of wealth, -and the multiplication of its kinds through commerce, -mocked the simple state of the early kings, and tempted -them into a rapacity, before which the barriers of ancient -custom gave way: and so, says Thucydides<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὰ πολλὰ -τυραννίδες ἐν ταῖς πόλεσι καθίσταντο, τῶν προσόδων μειζόνων -γιγνομένων</span>. The germ of this evil is just discernible -in the Agamemnon of the Iliad: and it is marked by -the epithet of Achilles, who, when angry, still knows -how to strike at the weakest point of his character, by -calling him <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημόβορος βασιλεὺς</span><a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a>, a king who eat up, or -impoverished, those under his command. Whether the -charge was in any great degree deserved or not, we can -hardly say. Helen certainly gives to the Achæan king -a better character<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a>. But however that may be, the -reproach was altogether personal to the man. The -reverence due and paid to the office must have been -immense, when Ulysses, alone, and armed only with -the sceptre of Agamemnon, could stem the torrent of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -the flying soldiery, and turn them back upon the place -of meeting.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Veneration long adhering to the name.</i></div> - -<p>Even in the Iliad, indeed, we scarcely find the strictly -patriarchal king. The constitution of the state has -ceased to be modelled in any degree on the pattern of -the family. The different classes are united together -by relations which, though undefined and only nascent, -are yet purely political. Ulysses, in his character of -king, had been gentle <i>as</i> a father<a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a>; but the idea which -makes the king even metaphorically the father of his -people is nowhere, I think, to be found in Homer: it -was obsolete. Ethnical, local, and dynastic changes, -often brought about by war, had effaced the peculiar -traits of patriarchal kingship, with the exception of the -old title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν</span>; and had substituted those -heroic monarchies which retained, in a larger development, -so much of what was best in the still older system. -As even these monarchies had begun, before the -Trojan war, to be shaken here and there, and as the -Odyssey exhibits to us the state of things when apparently -their final knell had sounded, so, in the age of -Hesiod, that iron age, when Commerce had fairly settled -in Greece, and had brought forth its eldest-born child -Competition<a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a>, they had become a thing of the past. Yet -they were still remembered, and still understood. And -it might well be that, long after society had outgrown -the forms of patriarchal life, men might nevertheless -cling to its associations; and so long as those associations -were represented by old hereditary sovereignties, -holding either in full continuity, or by ties and traditions -not absolutely broken, much of the spirit of the -ancient system might continue to subsist; political free<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>dom -respecting the tree, under the shadow of which it -had itself grown up.</p> - -<p>It should be easier for the English, than for the nations -of most other countries, to make this picture real -to their own minds; for it is the very picture before our -own eyes in our own time and country, where visible -traces of the patriarchal mould still coexist in the national -institutions with political liberties of more recent -fashion, because they retain their hold upon the general -affections.</p> - -<p>And, indeed, there is a sign, long posterior to the -account given by Hesiod of the heroic age, and distinct -also from the apparently favourable notice by Thucydides -of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πατρικαὶ βασιλεῖαι</span>, which might lead to the supposition -that the old name of king left a good character -behind it. It is the reverence which continued to attend -that name, notwithstanding the evil association, -which events could not fail to establish between it and -the usurpations (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τυραννίδες</span>). For when the office of the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> had either wholly disappeared, as in Athens, or -had undergone essential changes, as in Sparta, so that -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεία</span> no longer appears with the philosophical analysts -as one of the regular kinds of government, but -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μοναρχία</span> is substituted, still the name remained<a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a>, and -bore for long long ages the traces of its pristine dignity, -like many another venerable symbol, with which we -are loath to part, even after we have ceased either to -respect the thing it signifies, or perhaps even to understand -its significance.</p> - -<p>Such is a rude outline of the history of the office.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -Let us now endeavour to trace the portrait of it which -has been drawn in the Iliad of Homer.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Notes of Kingship in the Iliad.</i></div> - -<p>1. The class of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> has the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεῖοι</span>, which -is never used by Homer except to place the subject of -it in some special relation with deity; as for (<i>a</i>) kings, -(<i>b</i>) bards, (<i>c</i>) the two protagonists, Achilles and Ulysses, -(<i>d</i>) several of the heroes who predeceased the war, -(<i>e</i>) the herald in Il. iv. 192; who, like an ambassador -in modern times, personally represents the sovereign, -and is therefore <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διὸς ἄγγελος ἠδὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν</span>, Il. i. 334.</p> - -<p>2. This class is marked by the exclusive application -to it of the titular epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφής</span>; which, by the -relations with Jupiter which it expresses, denotes the -divine origin of sovereign power. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διογενὴς</span> -has a bearing similar to that of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφὴς</span>, but apparently -rather less exclusive. Although at first sight -this may seem singular, and we should perhaps expect -the order of the two words to be reversed, it is really -in keeping; for the gods had many reputed sons of -whom they took no heed, and to be brought up under -the care of Jupiter was therefore a far higher ascription, -than merely to be born or descended from him.</p> - -<p>3. To the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, and to no one else, is it said that -Jupiter has intrusted the sceptre, the symbol of authority, -together with the prerogatives of justice<a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a>. The -sceptre or staff was the emblem of regal power as a -whole. Hence the account of the origin and successive -deliveries of the sceptre of Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a>. Hence -Ulysses obtained the use of it in order to check the -Greeks and bring them back to the assembly, ii. 186. -Hence we constantly hear of the sceptre as carried by -kings: hence the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκηπτοῦχοι</span> is applied to them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -exclusively in Homer, and the sceptre is carried by no -other persons, except by judges, and by herald-serjeants, -as their deputies.</p> - -<p>4. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> are in many places spoken of as a -class or order by themselves; and in this capacity they -form the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> or council of the army. Thus when -Achilles describes the distribution of prizes by Agamemnon -to the principal persons of the army, he says<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἄλλα δ’ ἀριστήεσσι δίδου γέρα, καὶ βασιλεῦσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In this place the Poet seems manifestly to distinguish -between the class of kings and that of chiefs.</p> - -<p>When he has occasion to speak of the higher order -of chiefs who usually met in council, he calls them the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span><a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a>, or the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span><a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a>: but when he speaks of the -leaders more at large, he calls them by other names, as -at the commencement of the Catalogue, they are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρχοὶ</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span>, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κοίρανοι</span>: and, again, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες</span><a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a>. In two -places, indeed, he applies the phrase last-named to the -members of that select class of chiefs who were also -kings: but there the expression is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες Παναχαιῶν</span><a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a>, -a phrase of which the effect is probably much the same -as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες Ἀχαιῶν</span>: the meaning seems to be those -who were chief over all orders of the Greeks, that is -to say, chiefs even among chiefs. Thus Agamemnon -would have been properly the only <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς Παναχαιῶν</span>.</p> - -<p>The same distinction is marked in the proceedings -of Ulysses, when he rallies the dispersed Assembly: -for he addressed coaxingly,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὅντινα μὲν βασιλῆα καὶ ἔξοχον ἄνδρα κιχείη,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>whatever king <i>or</i> leading man he chanced to overtake<a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>5. The rank of the Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεῖς</span> is marked in the -Catalogue by this trait; that no other person seems -ever to be associated with them on an equal footing in -the command of the force, even where it was such as -to require subaltern commanders. Agamemnon, Menelaus, -Nestor, Ulysses, the two Ajaxes, Achilles, are each -named alone. Idomeneus is named alone as leader in -opening the account of the Cretans, ii. 645, though, -when he is named again, Meriones also appears (650, 1), -which arrangement seems to point to him as only at -most a quasi-colleague, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀπάων</span>. Sthenelus and -Euryalus are named after Diomed (563-6), but it is -expressly added,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">συμπάντων δ’ ἡγεῖτο βοὴν ἀγαθὸς Διομήδης.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus his higher rank is not obscured. Again, we know -that, in the case of Achilles, there were five persons, -each commanding ten of his fifty ships (Il. xvi. 171), of -whom no notice is taken in the Catalogue (681-94), -though it begins with a promise to enumerate all those -who were in command of the fleet (493),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρχοὺς αὖ νηῶν ἐρέω νῆάς τε προπάσας</span>;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and in the case of the Elians he names four leaders -who had exactly the same command, each over ten -ships (618). It thus appears natural to refer his silence -about the five to the rank held by Achilles as a king.</p> - -<p>So much for the notes of this class in the Iliad.</p> - -<p>Though we are not bound to suppose, that Homer -had so rigid a definition of the class of kings before his -mind as exists in the case of the more modern forms -of title, it is clear in very nearly every individual case -of a Greek chieftain of the Iliad, whether he was a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> -or not.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Nine Greek Kings of the Iliad.</i></div> - -<p>The class clearly comprehends:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> - -<p> -1. Agamemnon, Il. i. 9, and in many places.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="center"> -<table class="lefttable" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td>2. Menelaus</td><td rowspan="4" class="bracket"></td><td rowspan="4">from Il. xix. 310, 311, where they remain with Achilles, while the other <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span>, ver. 309, are sent away. Also for Ulysses, see xiv. 379; and various places in the Odyssey.</td></tr> -<tr><td>3. Nestor</td></tr> -<tr><td>4. Ulysses</td></tr> -<tr><td>5. Idomeneus</td></tr> -</table></div> - -<p> -6. Achilles, Il. i. 331. xvi. 211.<br /> -<br /> -7. Diomed, Il. xiv. 27, compared with 29 and 379.<br /> -<br /> -8. Ajax Telamonius, Il. vii. 321 connected with 344.<br /> -<br /> -9. Ajax, son of Oileus.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Among the indications, by which the last-named chief -is shown to have been a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, are those which follow. -He is summoned by Agamemnon (Il. ii. 404-6) -among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες ἀριστῆες Παναχαιῶν</span>: where all the -abovenamed persons appear (except Achilles), and no -others. Now the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> or elders are summoned before -in ver. 53 of the same book, and are called in ver. -86 the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκηπτοῦχοι βασιλῆες</span>. Another proof of the rank -of Oilean Ajax is the familiar manner in which his -name is associated on terms of equality, throughout the -poem, with that of Ajax Telamonius.</p> - -<p>But the part of the poem, which supplies the most -pointed testimony as a whole with respect to the composition -of the class of kings, is the Tenth Book.</p> - -<p>Here we begin with the meeting of Agamemnon -and Menelaus (ver. 34). Next, Menelaus goes to call -the greater Ajax and Idomeneus (53), and Agamemnon -to call Nestor (54, 74). Nestor awakens Ulysses (137); -and then Diomed (157), whom he sends to call Oilean -Ajax, together with Meges (175). They then conjointly -visit the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φύλακες</span> or watch, commanded by Thrasymedes, -Meriones, and others (ix. 80. x. 57-9). Nestor -gives the watch an exhortation to be on the alert, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -then reenters within the trench, followed by the Argeian -kings (194, 5);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">τοὶ δ’ ἅμ’ ἕποντο</div> - <div class="verse">Ἀργείων βασιλῆες, ὅσοι κεκλήατο βουλήν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The force of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span>, as marking off a certain -class, is enhanced by the lines which follow, and which -tell us that with them, the kings <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῖς δ’ ἅμα</span>, went -Meriones and Thrasymedes by special invitation -(196, 7);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτοὶ γὰρ κάλεον συμμητιάασθαι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now in this narrative it is not stated that each of -the persons, who had been called, joined the company -which visited the watch: but all who did join it are -evidently <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span>. But we are certain that Oilean -Ajax was among them, because he is mentioned in ver. -228 as one of those in the Council, who were anxious -to accompany Diomed on his enterprise.</p> - -<p>Ajax Oileus therefore makes the ninth King on the -Greek side in the Iliad.</p> - -<p>These nine King-Chiefs, of course with the exception -of Achilles, appear in every Council, and appear either -absolutely or almost alone.</p> - -<p>The line between them, and all the other chiefs, is on -the whole preserved with great precision. There are, -however, a very few persons, with regard to whom the -question may possibly be raised whether they passed it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Certain doubtful cases.</i></div> - -<p>1. Meges, son of Phyleus, and commander of the -Dulichian Epeans, was not in the first rank of warriors; -for he was not one of the ten who, including Menelaus, -were ready to accept Hector’s challenge<a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a>. Neither was -he a member of the ordinary Council; but on one occasion, -that of the Night-council, he is summoned. Those -who attended on this occasion are also, as we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -seen, called kings<a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a>. And we have seen that the term -has no appearance of having been loosely used: since, -after saying that the kings followed Nestor to the -council, it adds, that with them went Meriones and -Antilochus<a name="FNanchor_69_69" id="FNanchor_69_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a>.</p> - -<p>But when Diomed proceeds to ask for a companion -on his expedition, six persons are mentioned (227-32) as -having been desirous to attend him. They are the two -Ajaxes, Meriones, Thrasymedes, Menelaus, and Ulysses. -Idomeneus and Nestor are of course excepted on account -of age. It seems plain, however, that Homer’s intention -was to include the whole company, with those exceptions -only. He could not mean that one and one -only of the able-bodied warriors present hung back. -Yet Meges is not mentioned; the only one of the persons -summoned, who is not accounted for. I therefore -infer that Homer did not mean to represent him as -having attended; and consequently he is in all likelihood -not included among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> by v. 195.</p> - -<p>2. Phœnix, the tutor and friend of Achilles, is caressingly -called by him <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφὴς</span><a name="FNanchor_70_70" id="FNanchor_70_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a> in the Ninth Book; but -the petting and familiar character of the speech, and -of the whole relation between them, would make it -hazardous to build any thing upon this evidence.</p> - -<p>In the Ninth Book it may appear probable that he -was among the elders who took counsel with Agamemnon -about the mission to Achilles, but it is not positively -stated; and, even if it were, his relation to that -great chieftain would account for his having appeared -there on this occasion only (Il. ix. 168). It is remarkable -that, at this single juncture, Homer tells us that -Agamemnon collected not simply the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες ἀολλέες</span>, as if there were persons present, who -did not belong to the ordinary Council (Il. ix. 89).</p> - -<p>Again, in the Nineteenth Book, we are told (v. 303) -that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες Ἀχαιῶν</span> assembled in the encampment -of Achilles, that they might urge him to eat. He -refused; and he sent away the ‘other kings;’ but there -remained behind the two Atreidæ, Ulysses, Nestor, and -Idomeneus, ‘and the old chariot-driving Phœnix.’ The -others are mentioned without epithet, probably because -they had just been described as kings; and Phœnix is -in all likelihood described by these epithets, for the -reason that the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> would not include him -(xix. 303-12).</p> - -<p>On the whole then, and taking into our view that -Phœnix was as a lord, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span>, subordinate to Peleus, -and that he was a sub-commander in the contingent of -Achilles, we may be pretty sure that he was not a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύς</span>; -if that word had, as has I think been sufficiently -shown, a determinate meaning.</p> - -<p>3. Though Patroclus was in the first rank of warriors -he is nowhere called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφής</span>; but only -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διογενὴς</span>, which is a word apparently used with rather -more latitude. The subordinate position of Menœtius, -the father of Patroclus, makes it improbable that he -should stand as a king in the Iliad. He appears to -have been lieutenant to Achilles over the whole body -of Myrmidons.</p> - -<p>4. Eurypylus son of Euæmon<a name="FNanchor_71_71" id="FNanchor_71_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a>, commander of a -contingent of forty ships, and one of the ten acceptors -of the challenge, is in one place addressed as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφής</span>. -It is doubtful whether he was meant to be exhibited -as a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, or whether this is a lax use of the epithet; -if it is so, it forms the only exception (apart from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -ix. 607) to the rule established by above thirty passages -of the Iliad.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, then the evidence of the Iliad clearly -tends to show that the title <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> was a definite one -in the Greek army, and that it was confined to nine -persons; perhaps with some slight indistinctness on the -question, whether there was or was not a claim to that -rank on the part of one or two persons more.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Conditions of Kingship in the Iliad.</i></div> - -<p>Upon viewing the composition of the class of kings, -whether we include in it or not such cases as those of -Meges or Eurypylus, it seems to rest upon the combined -basis of</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1. Real political sovereignty, as distinguished from -subaltern chiefship;</p> - -<p>2. Marked personal vigour; and</p> - -<p>3. <i>Either</i>, <i>a.</i> Considerable territorial possessions, as -in the case of Idomeneus and Oilean -Ajax;</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>b.</i> Extraordinary abilities though with -small dominions, as in the case of -Ulysses; or, at the least,</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> Preeminent personal strength and valour, -accepted in like manner as a -compensation for defective political -weight, as in the case of Telamonian -Ajax.</p></div></div> - -<p>Although the condition of commanding considerable -forces is, as we see, by no means absolute, yet, on the -other hand, every commander of as large a force as fifty -ships is a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span>, except Menestheus only, an exception -which probably has a meaning. Agapenor indeed -has sixty ships; but then he is immediately dependent -on Agamemnon. The Bœotians too have fifty; but they -are divided among five leaders.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - -<p>Among the bodily qualities of Homeric princes, we -may first note beauty. This attribute is not, I think, -pointedly ascribed in the poems to any person, except -those of princely rank. It is needless to collect all the -instances in which it is thus assigned. Of some of them, -where the description is marked, and the persons insignificant, -like Euphorbus and Nireus<a name="FNanchor_72_72" id="FNanchor_72_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a>, we may be the -more persuaded, that Homer was following an extant -tradition. Of the Trojan royal family it is the eminent -and peculiar characteristic; and it remains to an observable -degree even in the case of the aged Priam<a name="FNanchor_73_73" id="FNanchor_73_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a>. -Homer is careful<a name="FNanchor_74_74" id="FNanchor_74_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a> to assert it of his prime heroes; -Achilles surpasses even Nireus; Ulysses possesses it -abundantly, though in a less marked degree; it is expressly -asserted of Agamemnon; and of Ajax, who, in -the Odyssey, is almost brought into competition with -Nireus for the second honours; the terms of description -are, however, distinguishable one from the other.</p> - -<p>Again, with respect to personal vigour as a condition -of sovereignty, it is observed by Grote<a name="FNanchor_75_75" id="FNanchor_75_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a> that ‘an -old chief, such as Peleus and Laertes, cannot retain -his position.’ There appears to have been some diversity -of practice. Nestor, in very advanced age, and when -unable to fight, still occupies his throne. The passage -quoted by Grote to uphold his assertion with respect -to Peleus falls short of the mark: for it is simply an -inquiry by the spirit of Achilles, whether his father is -still on the throne, or has been set aside on account -of age, and the question itself shows that, during the -whole time of the life of Achilles, Peleus, though old, -had not been known to have resigned the administra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>tion -of the government. Indeed his retention of it -appears to be presumed in the beautiful speech of -Priam to Achilles (Il. xxiv. 486-92).</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Custom of resignation in old age.</i></div> - -<p>At the same time, there is sufficient evidence supplied -by Homer to show, that it was the more usual custom -for the sovereign, as he grew old, either to associate his -son with him in his cares, or to retire. The practice -of Troy, where we see Hector mainly exercising the -active duties of the government—for he feeds the -troops<a name="FNanchor_76_76" id="FNanchor_76_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a>, as well as commands them—appears to have -corresponded with that of Greece. Achilles, in the -Ninth Iliad, plainly implies that he himself was not, as -a general, the mere delegate of his father; since he invites -Phœnix to come and share his kingdom with him.</p> - -<p>But the duties of counsel continued after those of -action had been devolved: for Priam presides in the -Trojan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, and appears upon the walls, surrounded -by the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span>, who were, apparently, still its principal -speakers and its guides. And Achilles<a name="FNanchor_77_77" id="FNanchor_77_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a>, when in -command before Troy, still looked to Peleus to provide -him with a wife.</p> - -<p>I find a clear proof of the general custom of retirement, -probably a gradual one, in the application to -sovereigns of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηοι</span>. This word is commonly -construed in Homer as meaning youths: but the real -meaning of it is that which in humble life we convey -by the term able-bodied; that is to say, those who are -neither in boyhood nor old age, but in the entire -vigour of manhood. The mistake as to the sense of -the term has created difficulties about its origin, and -has led Döderlein to derive it from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθω</span>, with reference, -I suppose, to the heat of youth, instead of the -more obvious derivation form <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">α</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ζάω</span>, expressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -the height of vital power. A single passage will, I -think, suffice to show that the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span> has this -meaning: which is also represented in two places by -the paraphrastic expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰζήιος ἀνήρ</span><a name="FNanchor_78_78" id="FNanchor_78_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a>. In the Sixteenth -Iliad, Apollo appears to Hector under the form -of Asius (716):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀνέρι εἰσάμενος αἰζηῷ τε κρατερῷ τε.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now the Asius in question was full brother to Hecuba, -the mother of Hector and eighteen other children; and -he cannot, therefore, be supposed to have been a youth. -The meaning of the Poet appears clearly to be to prevent -the supposition, which would otherwise have been -a natural one in regard to Hector’s uncle, that this -Asius, in whose likeness Apollo the unshorn appeared, -was past the age of vigour and manly beauty, which is -designated by the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Force of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span>.</i></div> - -<p>There is not a single passage, where this word is -used with any indication of meaning youths as contra-distinguished -from mature men. But there is a particular -passage which precisely illustrates the meaning -that has now been given to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span>. In the Catalogue -we are told that Hercules carried off Astyoche<a name="FNanchor_79_79" id="FNanchor_79_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">πέρσας ἄστεα πολλὰ Διοτρεφέων αἰζηῶν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Pope renders this in words which, whatever be their -intrinsic merit, are, as a translation, at once diffuse and -defective:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘Where mighty towns in ruins spread the plain,</div> - <div class="verse">And saw their blooming warriors early slain.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Cowper wholly omits the last half of the line, and -says,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘After full many a city laid in dust’....</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> - -<p>Chapman, right as to the epithet, gives the erroneous -meaning to the substantive:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘Where many towns of princely youths he levelled with the ground.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Voss, accurate as usual, appears to carry the full -meaning:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="de" xml:lang="de" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘Viele Städt’ austilgend der gottbeseligten Männer.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This line, in truth, affords an admirable touchstone for -the meaning of two important Homeric words. The -vulgar meaning takes <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφέων αἰζήων</span> as simply illustrious -youths. What could Homer mean by cities of -illustrious youths? Is it their sovereigns or their fighting -population? Were their sovereigns all youths? -Were their fighting population all illustrious? In no -other place throughout the Iliad, except one, where -the rival reading <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρηιθόων</span> is evidently to be adopted, -does the Poet apply <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφὴς</span> to a mass of men<a name="FNanchor_80_80" id="FNanchor_80_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a>. If, -then, the sovereigns be meant, it is plain that they -could not all be youths, and therefore <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴζηος</span> does not -mean a youth. But now let us take <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διοτρεφὴς</span> in its -strict sense as a royal title only; then let us remember -that thrones were only assumed on coming to manhood, -as is plain from the case of Telemachus, who, -though his father, as it was feared, was dead, was not -in possession of the sovereign power. ‘May Jupiter,’ -says Antinous to him, ‘never make you the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> -in Ithaca: which is your right,’ or ‘which would fall to -you by birth<a name="FNanchor_81_81" id="FNanchor_81_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a>:’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὅ τοι γενεῇ πατρώϊόν ἐστιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When Telemachus answers, by proposing that one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -nobles should assume the sovereignty. Lastly, upon -declining into old age, it was, for the most part, either -as to the more active cares, or else entirely, relinquished. -Then the sense of Il. ii. 660 will come out with Homer’s -usual accuracy and completeness. It will be that -Hercules sacked many cities of prince-warriors, or -vigorous and warlike princes.</p> - -<p>Thus, then, it was requisite that the Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> -should be a king, a <i>könig</i>, a man of whom we could -say that actually, and not conventionally alone, he <i>can</i>, -both in mind and person. Such was the theory and -such the practice of the Homeric age. There is not a -single Greek sovereign, with the honourable exception -of Nestor, who does not lead his subjects into battle; -not one who does not excel them all in strength of -hand, scarcely any who does not also give proofs of -superior intellect, where scope is allowed for it by the -action of the poem. Over and above the work of -battle, the prince is likewise peerless in the Games. -Of the eight contests of the Twenty-third Book, seven -are conducted only by the princes of the armament. -The single exception is remarkable: it is the boxing -match, which Homer calls <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πυγμαχίη ἀλεγεινὴ</span><a name="FNanchor_82_82" id="FNanchor_82_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a>, an epithet -that he applies to no other of the matches except -the wrestling.</p> - -<p>But his low estimation of the boxing comes out in -another form, the value of the prizes. The first prize -is an unbroken mule: the second, a double-bowled -cup, to which no epithet signifying value is attached. -But for the wrestlers (a contest less dangerous, and not -therefore requiring, on this score, greater inducement -to be provided,) the first prize was a tripod, worth twelve -oxen; and the second, a woman slave, worth four.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -What, then, was the relative value of an ox and a -mule not yet broken? Mules, like oxen, were employed -simply for traction. They were better, because -more speedy in drawing the plough<a name="FNanchor_83_83" id="FNanchor_83_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a>; but, then, oxen -were also available for food, and we have no indication -that the former were of greater value. Without therefore -resting too strictly on the number twelve, we may -say that the prize of wrestling was several times more -valuable than that of boxing. Again, the second prize -of the foot-race was a large and fat ox, equal, probably, -to the first prize of the boxing-match<a name="FNanchor_84_84" id="FNanchor_84_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a>. Epeus, who -wins the boxing-match against the prince Euryalus, third -leader of the Argives, was evidently a person of traditional -fame, from the victory he obtains over an adversary -of high rank. But Homer has taken care to balance -this by introducing a confession from the mouth of -Epeus himself, that he was good for nothing in -battle<a name="FNanchor_85_85" id="FNanchor_85_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἦ οὐχ ἅλις, ὅττι μάχης ἐπιδεύομαι;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>an expression which, I think, the Poet has used, in -all likelihood, for the very purpose of shielding the -superiority of his princes, by showing that this gift of -Epeus was a single, and as it were brutal, accomplishment.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Accomplishments of the Kings.</i></div> - -<p>As with the games, so with the more refined accomplishments. -There are but four cases in which we -hear of the use of music and song from Homer, except -the instances of the professional bards. One of these -is the boy, who upon the Shield of Achilles plays and -sings, in conducting the youths and maidens as they -pass from the vineyard with the grapes. It is the bard, -who plays to the dancers; but his dignity, and the -composure always assigned to him, probably would not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -allow of his appearing in motion with such a body, and -on this account the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παὶς</span> may be substituted; of whose -rank we know nothing. In the other cases, the three -persons mentioned are all princes: Paris is the first, -who had the lighter and external parts of the character -of a gentleman, and who was of the highest rank, yet -to whom it may be observed only the instrument is -assigned, and not the song. The second is the sublime -Achilles, whose powerful nature, ranging like that of -his Poet through every chord of the human mind and -heart, prompts him to beguile an uneasy solitude by the -Muse; and who is found in the Ninth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_86_86" id="FNanchor_86_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a> by the -Envoys, soothing his moody spirit with the lyre, and -singing, to strains of his own, the achievements of bygone -heroes. Again, thirdly, this lyre itself, like the -iron globe of the Twenty-third Book, had been among -the spoils of King Eetion.</p> - -<p>But the royal and heroic character must with Homer, -at least when exhibited at its climax, be all comprehensive. -As it soars to every thing above, so, without -stooping, must it be master of every thing beneath it. -Accordingly, the Poet has given it the last touch in the -accomplishments of Ulysses. As he proves himself a -wood-cutter and ship-builder in the island of Calypso, -so he is no stranger to the plough and the scythe; and -he fairly challenges<a name="FNanchor_87_87" id="FNanchor_87_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> Eurymachus the Suitor to try -which of them would soonest clear the meadow of its -grass, which drive the straightest furrow down a four-acre -field.</p> - -<p>So much for the corporeal accomplishments of the -Greek kings and princes; of their intellectual powers -we shall have to treat in considering the character of -the governments of the heroic age.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>The Kings as Gentlemen.</i></div> - -<p>But these accomplishments, mental and bodily, are -not vulgarly heaped upon his characters by Homer, as -if they were detailed in a boarding-school catalogue. -The Homeric king should have that which incorporates -and harmonizes them all: he should be emphatically a -gentleman, and that in a sense not far from the one -familiar to the Christian civilization of Europe. Nestor, -Diomed, Menelaus, are in a marked manner gentlemen. -Agamemnon is less so; but here Homer shows his -usual discrimination, for in Agamemnon there is a -sordid vein, which most of all mars this peculiar tone of -character. It is, however, in the two superlative heroes -of the poems, that we see the strongest development of -those habits of feeling and action, which belong to the -gentleman. It will be admitted that one of these traits -is the love of that which is straightforward, truthful, -and above-board. According to the vulgar conception -of the character of Ulysses, he has no credit for this -quality. But whatever the Ulysses of Virgil or of -Euripides may be, the Ulysses of Homer, though full -of circumspection, reserve, and even stratagem in dealing -with enemies and strangers, has nothing about him -of what is selfish, tricky, or faithless. And, accordingly, -it is into his mouth that Homer has put the few and -simple words, which rebuke the character of the informer -and the tale-bearer, with a severity greater -perhaps even than, under the circumstances, was necessary. -When he is recognised by Euryclea, he strictly -enjoins upon her the silence, on which all their lives at -the moment depended. Hurt by the supposition that -she could (in our homely phrase) be likely to blab, she -replies that she will hold herself in, hard as stone or -as iron. She adds, that she will point out to him which -of the women in the palace are faithful, and which are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -guilty. No, he replies; I will observe them for -myself; that is not your business<a name="FNanchor_88_88" id="FNanchor_88_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">μαῖα, τίη δὲ σὺ τὰς μυθήσεαι; οὐδέ τί σε χρή·</div> - <div class="verse">εὖ νυ καὶ αὐτὸς ἐγὼ φράσομαι καὶ εἴσομ’ ἑκάστην·</div> - <div class="verse">ἀλλ’ ἔχε σιγῇ μῦθον, ἐπίτρεψον δὲ θεοῖσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Achilles as a Gentleman.</i></div> - -<p>As Homer has thus sharply exhibited Ulysses in the -character of a gentleman with respect to truth<a name="FNanchor_89_89" id="FNanchor_89_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a>, so he -has made the same exhibition for Achilles with respect -to courtesy: protesting, as it were, in this manner -by anticipation against the degenerate conceptions of -those characters, which were to reproduce and render -current through the world Achilles as a brute, and -Ulysses as a thorough knave. But let us see the residue -of the proof.</p> - -<p>In the first Iliad, when the wrath is in the first flush -of its heat, the heralds Talthybius and Eurybates are -sent to his encampment, with the appalling commission -to bring away Briseis. On entering, they remain awe-struck -and silent. Though, in much later times, we -know that</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">The messenger of evil tidings</div> - <div class="verse">Hath but a losing office,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>he at once relieves them from their embarrassment, -and bids them personally welcome;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">χαίρετε, κήρυκες, Διὸς ἄγγελοι, ἠδὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν·</div> - <div class="verse">ἆσσον ἴτ’<a name="FNanchor_90_90" id="FNanchor_90_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a>·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And he desires Patroclus to bring forth the object -of their quest. More extraordinary self-command and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -considerateness than this, never has been ascribed by -any author to any character.</p> - -<p>Again, when in the Ninth Book he is surprised in -his seclusion by the envoys Phœnix, Ulysses, and Ajax, -though he is prepared to reject every offer, he hails them -all personally, without waiting to be addressed and with -the utmost kindness<a name="FNanchor_91_91" id="FNanchor_91_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a>, as of all the Greeks the dearest -to him even in his wrath; he of course proceeds to order -an entertainment for them. But the most refined of all -his attentions is that shown to Agamemnon in the -Twenty-third Book. Inferior to Ajax, Diomed, and -Ulysses, Agamemnon could not enter into the principal -games, to be beaten by any abler competitor, without -disparagement to his office: while there would also -have been a serious disparagement of another kind in -his contending with a secondary person. Accordingly, -Achilles at the close makes a nominal match for the -use of the sling—of which we never hear elsewhere in -the poems—and, interposing after the candidates are -announced, but before the actual contest, he presents -the chief prize to Agamemnon, with this compliment; -that there need be no trial, as every one is aware -already how much he excels all others in the exercise.</p> - -<p>Yet these great chiefs, so strong and brave and wise, -so proud and stern, so equipped in arts, manners, and -accomplishments, can upon occasion weep like a woman -or a child. Ulysses, in the island of Calypso daily pours -forth his ‘waterfloods’ as he strains his vision over the -sea; and he covers up his head in the halls of Alcinous, -while Demodocus is singing, that his tears may flow -unobserved. And so Achilles, fresh from his fierce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -vengeance on the corpse of Hector, yet, when the -Trojan king<a name="FNanchor_92_92" id="FNanchor_92_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a> has called up before his mind the image -of his father Peleus, at the thought now of his aged -parent, and now of his slaughtered friend, sheds tears -as tender as those of Priam for his son, and lets his -griefs overflow in a deep compassion for the aged suppliant -before him. Nor is it only in sorrow that we -may remark a high susceptibility. The Greek chieftains -in general are acutely sensible of praise and of -blame. Telemachus<a name="FNanchor_93_93" id="FNanchor_93_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> is delighted when Ægyptius commends -him as a likely looking youth: and even Ulysses, -first among them all in self-command, is deeply -stung by the remark of the saucy Phæacian on his appearance, -and replies upon the offender with excellent -sense, but with an extraordinary pungency<a name="FNanchor_94_94" id="FNanchor_94_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a>. A similar -temper is shown in all the answers of the chieftains to -Agamemnon when he goes the round of the army<a name="FNanchor_95_95" id="FNanchor_95_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Rights of Hereditary Succession.</i></div> - -<p>The hereditary character of the royal office is stamped -upon almost every page of the poems; as nearly all the -chiefs, whose lineage we are able to trace, have apparently -succeeded their fathers in power. The only -exception in the order, of which we are informed, is one -where, probably on account of the infancy of the heir, -the brother of the deceased sovereign assumes his -sceptre. In this way Thyestes, uncle to Agamemnon, -succeeded his father Atreus, and then, evidently without -any breach of regularity, transmitted it to Agamemnon.</p> - -<p>And such is probably the reason why, Orestes being -a mere child<a name="FNanchor_96_96" id="FNanchor_96_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a>, a part of the dignity of Agamemnon is -communicated to Menelaus. For in the Iliad he has -a qualified supremacy; receives jointly with Aga<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>memnon -the present of Euneus; is more royal, higher -in rank, than the other chieftains: we are also told of -him<a name="FNanchor_97_97" id="FNanchor_97_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέγα πάντων Ἀργείων ἤνασσε</span>; and he came to the -second meeting of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> in the Second Book <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτόματος</span>, -without the formality of a summons.</p> - -<p>In a case like that of Thyestes, if we may judge -from what actually happened, the uncle would perhaps -succeed instead of the minor, whose hereditary right -would in such case be postponed until the next turn.</p> - -<p>The case of Telemachus in the Odyssey is interesting -in many ways, as unfolding to us the relations of -the family life of the period. Among other points -which it illustrates, is that of the succession to sovereignty. -It was admitted by the Suitors, that it descended -to him from his father<a name="FNanchor_98_98" id="FNanchor_98_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a>. Yet there evidently -was some special, if not formal act to be done, without -which he could not be king. For Antinous expresses -his hope that Jupiter will never make Telemachus -king of Ithaca. Not because the throne was full, for, -on the contrary, the death of Ulysses was admitted or -assumed to have occurred<a name="FNanchor_99_99" id="FNanchor_99_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a>; but apparently because -this act, whatever it was, had not been performed in his -case.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the expressions of Antinous imply that such -a proceeding was much more than formal, and that the -accession of Telemachus to the supreme dignity might -be arrested by the dissent of the nobles. The answer -too of the young prince<a name="FNanchor_100_100" id="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a> (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τῶν κέν τις τόδ’ ἔχῃσιν</span>) seems -to be at least in harmony with the idea that a practice, -either approaching to election, or in some way involving -a voluntary action on the part of the subjects or of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -portion of them, had to be gone through. But the -personal dignity of the son of Ulysses was unquestioned. -Even the Suitors pay a certain regard to it in the midst -of their insolence: and when the young prince goes -into the place of assembly<a name="FNanchor_101_101" id="FNanchor_101_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a>, he takes his place upon his -father’s seat, the elders spontaneously making way for -him to assume it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Rights of primogeniture.</i></div> - -<p>It may, however, be said with truth, that Telemachus -was an only son, and that accordingly we cannot judge -from his case whether it was the right of the eldest to -succeed. Whether the rights of primogeniture were -acknowledged among the Greeks of the heroic age, is a -question of much interest to our own. For, on the one -hand, there is a disposition to canvass and to dispute -those rights. On the other hand, we live in a state of -society, to which they probably have contributed more -largely than any other specific cause, after the Christian -religion, to give its specific form. Homer has supplied -us with but few cases of brotherhood among his greater -characters. We see, however, that Agamemnon everywhere -bears the character of the elder, and he appears -to have succeeded in that capacity to the throne of -Atreus, while Menelaus, the younger, takes his inheritance -in virtue of his wife. Tyro, in the Eleventh -Odyssey, is said to have borne, on the banks of the -Enipeus, the twins Pelias and Neleus. In this passage -the order in which the children are named is most probably -that of age<a name="FNanchor_102_102" id="FNanchor_102_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a>. We find Pelias reigning in Iolcus, -a part of the original country of the Æolids: -while Neleus emigrates, and, either by or before -marrying Chloris, becomes king of Pylos in the south -of Greece<a name="FNanchor_103_103" id="FNanchor_103_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a>. Of the two brothers Protesilaus and -Podarces, the former, who is also the elder, com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>mands -the force from Phylace. He was, however, -braver, as well as older. This statement of the merits, -ages, and positions of the two brothers raises a question -applicable to other cases where two brothers are joined -without ostensible discrimination in command. Of these -there are four in the Catalogue. The first is that of -Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, whom their mother Astyoche -bore clandestinely to Mars, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑπερώϊον εἰσαναβᾶσα</span>. The -expression seems to imply, that it was at a single -birth. But even by this supposition we do not get rid -of the idea of seniority in this case; nor can we suppose -all the pairs to have been twins. We naturally -therefore ask, whether this conjunction implied equality -in command? We may probably venture to answer, -without much doubt, in the negative. On the one -hand, there is nothing unlikely in the supposition that -the first named of two brothers was the eldest, and had -the chief command. While on the other hand it is -certain, that there is no case of two coequal commanders -except it be among these four, which are all cases of brothers; -and which, under the interpretation which seems -the most natural one they can receive, would bear fresh -testimony to the prevalence of the custom of primogeniture. -Again, among the sons of Nestor, who are -exhibited to us as surrounding him in the Third Odyssey, -we may perhaps find, from the offices assigned to them -at the solemn sacrifice and otherwise, decisive signs -of primogeniture. Pisistratus steps forward to greet -Telemachus on his arrival, and leads him to his seat<a name="FNanchor_104_104" id="FNanchor_104_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a>, -sleeps near him under the portico, and accompanies -him on his journey. But these functions appertain to -him because he was the bachelor (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠΐθεος</span>) of the family,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -as we are appropriately told in reference to his taking -a couch near the guest, while the married persons always -slept in some separate and more private part of the -palace<a name="FNanchor_105_105" id="FNanchor_105_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a>. Pisistratus, therefore, was probably the youngest -son. But it is also pretty clear that Thrasymedes was -the eldest. For in the sacrifice he strikes the fatal blow -at the ox: while Stratius and Echephron bring it up, -Aretus holds the ewer and basin, Perseus holds the -lamb, Pisistratus cuts up the animal and Nestor performs -the religious rites of prayer and sacrifice<a name="FNanchor_106_106" id="FNanchor_106_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a>.</p> - -<p>And again, when Pisistratus brings up Telemachus -and the disguised Minerva, he places them, evidently as -in the seat of honour, ‘beside his brother Thrasymedes -and his father.’</p> - -<p>This is in perfect consonance with our finding Thrasymedes -only, together with Antilochus who fell, selected -for service in the Trojan war.</p> - -<p>Upon this question, again, an important collateral -light is cast by Homer’s mythological arrangements. -They are, in fact, quite conclusive on the subject of -primogeniture among the Hellenes. The Olympian -order is founded upon it. It is as the eldest of the -three Kronid brothers, and by no other title, that -Jupiter stands at the head of the Olympian community. -With respect to the lottery, he is but one of three. -His being the King of Air invests him with no right -to command the King of Sea. In the Fifteenth Book, -as he is of nearly equal force, Neptune declines to -obey his orders until reminded by Iris of his seniority. -The Erinues, says the Messenger Goddess, attend upon -the elder. That is to say, his rights lie at the foundation -of the moral order. Upon this suggestion, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -refractory deity at once succumbs<a name="FNanchor_107_107" id="FNanchor_107_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a>. And, reciprocally, -Jupiter in the Thirteenth Odyssey recognises the claim -of Neptune to respect as the <i>oldest</i> and best (of course -after himself) of the gods<a name="FNanchor_108_108" id="FNanchor_108_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a>.—</p> - -<p>Thus exalted and severed in rank, thus beautiful -in person, thus powerful in hand and mind, thus associated -with the divine fountain of all human honours, -the Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλεύς</span> of the Iliad has other claims, too, -to be regarded as representing, more nearly perhaps -than it has ever been represented by any other class of -monarchs, a benignant and almost ideal kingship. The -light of these great stars of heroic society was no less -mild than it was bright; and they might well have -supplied the basis of that idea of the royal character, -which has given it so extraordinary a hold over the -mind of Shakspeare, and led him to adorn it by such -noble effusions of his muse.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Function of the King as Priest.</i></div> - -<p>The Homeric King appears before us in the fourfold -character of Priest, Judge, General, and Proprietor.</p> - -<p>It has already been remarked, that no priest appears -among the Greeks of the Troic age; and, in conformity -with this view, we find Agamemnon in the Iliad, and -Nestor in the Odyssey, charged with the actual performance -of the rite of sacrifice; nor is it apparently -committed to any other person than the head of the -society, assisted by his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κήρυκες</span>, officers who acted as -heralds and as serjeants, or by his sons.</p> - -<p>But while this was the case in regard to what may -be called state sacrifices, which were also commonly -banquets, we likewise learn, as to those of a more -private character, that they must have been performed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -by the head of the household. To slay an animal -for food is in every case to sacrifice him (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱερεύειν</span>) -whether in the camp, the palace of Nestor, the unruly -company of the Suitors, or the peaceful cottage of -Eumelus; and every animal ready for the knife was -called an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱερήϊον</span><a name="FNanchor_109_109" id="FNanchor_109_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As Judge and as General.</i></div> - -<p>The judicial office of the king is made known to us, -first, by the character of Minos. While on earth, he -had direct communications from Jupiter, which probably -referred to the administration of justice; and, in -the Shades beneath, we find him actually exercising the -office of the judge. Nothing with which we become -acquainted in Homer has the semblance of criminal -justice, except the fines for homicide; and even these -have no more than the semblance only. The punishment -was inflicted, like other fines, as an adjustment or -compensation<a name="FNanchor_110_110" id="FNanchor_110_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> between man and man, and not in satisfaction -of the offence against public morality, peace, or -order.</p> - -<p>In the Second Iliad, the remonstrance of Ulysses -with the commonalty declares that it is the king, and -to the king alone, to whom Jupiter has committed the -sceptre and the administration of justice, that by these -he may fulfil his regal office<a name="FNanchor_111_111" id="FNanchor_111_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">εἷς κοίρανος ἔστω,</div> - <div class="verse">εἷς βασιλεὺς, ᾧ ἔδωκε Κρόνου παῖς ἀγκυλομήτεω</div> - <div class="verse">σκῆπτρόν τ’ ἠδὲ θέμιστας, ἵνα σφίσιν ἐμβασιλεύῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now the sceptre is properly the symbol of the judicial -authority, as we know from the oath of Achilles<a name="FNanchor_112_112" id="FNanchor_112_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">νῦν αὖτέ μιν υἷες Ἀχαιῶν</div> - <div class="verse">ἐν παλάμῃς φορέουσι δικασπόλοι, οἵτε θέμιστας</div> - <div class="verse">πρὸς Διὸς εἰρύαται.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>From the combined effect of the two passages it -is clear that the duties of the judicature, the determination -of relative rights between the members of the -community, constituted, at least in great part, the -primary function of sovereignty. Still the larger conception -of it, which includes the deliberative office, is -that presented to us in the speech of Nestor to Agamemnon, -on the occasion of the Council which followed -the Night-assembly<a name="FNanchor_113_113" id="FNanchor_113_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a>.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">καί τοι Ζεὺς ἐγγυάλιξεν</div> - <div class="verse">σκῆπτρόν τ’, ἠδὲ θέμιστας, ἵνα σφίσι βουλεύῃσθα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The judicial function might, however, even in the -days of Homer, be exercised by delegation. For in -the Assembly graven on the Shield, while the parties -contend, and the people sympathize some with one and -some with the other, it is the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>, or elders, who -deliver judgment<a name="FNanchor_114_114" id="FNanchor_114_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a>. Of these persons each holds the -sceptre in his hands. The passage, Il. i. 237, seems to -speak of one sceptre held by many persons: this scene -on the Shield exhibits to us several sceptres. In the -simile of the crooked judgments, a plurality of judges<a name="FNanchor_115_115" id="FNanchor_115_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a> -are referred to. But as we never hear of an original and -independent authority, like that of Il. ii. 204, in the -senators or nobles, it seems most likely that they acted -judicially by an actual or virtual delegation from the -king.</p> - -<p>The duty of the king to command his troops is -inscribed on every page of the Iliad; and the only -limit to it seems to have been, that upon the approach -of old age it was delegated to the heir, or to more than -one of the family, even before the entire withdrawal of -the sire from public cares. The martial character of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -the sovereign was indeed ideally distinguishable from -his regal one; for Agamemnon was<a name="FNanchor_116_116" id="FNanchor_116_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀμφότερον, βασιλεύς τ’ ἀγαθὸς, κρατερός τ’ αἰχμητής.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Still, martial excellence was expected of him. When -Hippolochus despatched his son Glaucus to Troy, he -enjoined him always to be valiant, and always to excel -his comrades in arms<a name="FNanchor_117_117" id="FNanchor_117_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a>.</p> - -<p>Lastly, the king was a proprietor. Ulysses had very -large landed property, and as many herds and flocks, -says Eumæus in a spirit of loyal exaggeration, as -any twenty chiefs alive<a name="FNanchor_118_118" id="FNanchor_118_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a>. And Homer, who always -reserves his best for the Lycians, has made Sarpedon -declare, in an incomparable speech, the virtual condition -on which estates like these were held. He desires -Glaucus to recollect, why it is that they are honoured -in Lycia with precedence at banquets, and with greater -portions than the rest, why looked upon as deities, why -endowed with great estates of pasture and corn land by -the banks of Xanthus; it is that they may the more -boldly face the burning battle, and be great in the eyes -and in the minds of their companions. So entirely -is the idea of dignity and privilege in the Homeric -king founded upon the sure ground of duty, of responsibility, -and of toil<a name="FNanchor_119_119" id="FNanchor_119_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a>.</p> - -<p>What Hippolochus taught, and Sarpedon stated, is -in exact correspondence with the practical part of the -narrative of Glaucus in the Sixth Book. When Bellerophon -had fully approved himself in Lycia by his -prowess, the king of the country gave him his daughter -in marriage, together with one half of his kingdom; -and the Lycians presented him with a great and fertile -demesne.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>As proprietor; the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>.</i></div> - -<p>This estate is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>; a name never applied -in Homer but to the properties of deities and of rulers. -He uses the word with reference to the glebe-lands of</p> - -<p> -Spercheius, Il. xxiii. 148.<br /> -Venus, Od. viii. 362.<br /> -Ceres, Il. ii. 696.<br /> -Jupiter, Il. viii. 48.<br /> -</p> - -<p>And to the domains of</p> - -<p> -Bellerophon, Il. vi. 194.<br /> -Æneas (promised by the Trojan community if he should slay Achilles), Il. xx. 184.<br /> -Meleager, Il. ix. 574.<br /> -Sarpedon and Glaucus, Il. xii. 313.<br /> -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> on the Shield, Il. xviii. 550.<br /> -Iphition (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολέων ἡγήτωρ λαῶν</span>), Il. xx. 391.<br /> -Alcinous, Od. vi. 293.<br /> -Ulysses, Od. xi. 184, and xvii. 299.<br /> -</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the merely rich man (Il. xi. 68) -has an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄρουρα</span>, not a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>; and the farm of Laertes is -called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγρὸς</span>, not <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>. And why? Because it was a -private possession, acquired by him apparently out of -savings (Od. xxiv. 206);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ὅν ῥά ποτ’ αὐτὸς</div> - <div class="verse">Λαέρτης κτεάτισσεν, ἐπεὶ μάλα πόλλ’ ἐμόγησεν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span> is probably from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμνω</span>, or from -the same root with that verb, and signifies land which, -having been cut off from the original common stock, -available for the uses of private persons, has been set -apart for one of the two great public purposes, of -government or of religion.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Revenues and burdens on them.</i></div> - -<p>Besides their great estates, the kings appear to have -had at least two other sources of revenue. One of -these was not without resemblance in form to what we -now call customs’-duties, and may have contained their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -historical germ. In the Book of Genesis, where the -sons of Jacob go down to buy corn in Egypt, they -carry with them a present for the ruler; and doubtless -the object of this practice was to conciliate the protection -to which, as foreigners, and perhaps as suspected -persons, avowedly seeking their own gain, they would -not otherwise have had a claim. ‘Take of the best -fruits of the land in your vessels, and carry down the -man a present; a little balm, and a little honey, spices, -and myrrh, nuts, and almonds<a name="FNanchor_120_120" id="FNanchor_120_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a>.’ In conformity with -the practice thus exemplified, when Euneus in the -Seventh Iliad despatches his ships from Lemnos to -sell wine to the Greek army, in return for which they -obtain slaves, hides, and other commodities, he sends -a separate supply, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χίλια μέτρα</span>, as a present to the -two sons of Atreus<a name="FNanchor_121_121" id="FNanchor_121_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a>. Agamemnon indeed is, in the -Ninth Book, slily twitted by Nestor with the largeness -of the stores of wine, that he had contrived to accumulate.</p> - -<p>So likewise we find that certain traders, sailing to -Scheria, made a present to Alcinous, as the sovereign, -of the captive Eurymedusa. When we compare this -with the case of Euneus, the gift obviously appears to -have been a consideration for permission to trade<a name="FNanchor_122_122" id="FNanchor_122_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a>.</p> - -<p>The other source of revenue traceable in the Iliad -was one sure to lead to the extensive corruptions, which -must already have prevailed in the time of Hesiod. It -consisted in fees upon the administration of justice. -In the suit described upon the shield, the matter at -issue is a fine for homicide. But quite apart, as it -would seem, from this fine, there lie in the midst, duly -‘paid into court,’ two talents of gold, to be given at -the close to him, of all the judges, who should deliver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -the most upright, that is the most approved, judgment<a name="FNanchor_123_123" id="FNanchor_123_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τῷ δόμεν ὃς μετὰ τοῖσι δίκην ἰθύντατα εἴποι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>However righteous the original intention of a payment -in this form, it is easy to estimate its practical tendencies, -and curious to remark how early in the course of time -they were realized.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the great possessions of the king -were not given him for his own use alone. Over and -above the general obligation of hospitality to strangers, -it was his duty to entertain liberally the principal persons -among his subjects. Doubtless this provided the excuse, -which enabled the Suitors to feast upon the stores -of Ulysses, without the shame, in the very outset, of -absolute rapine. And it would appear from the Odyssey -that Alitherses<a name="FNanchor_124_124" id="FNanchor_124_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a> and other friends of the royal house, -frequented the table there as well as its enemies, -though not perhaps so constantly.</p> - -<p>In the Seventh Iliad, after his fight with Hector, -Ajax<a name="FNanchor_125_125" id="FNanchor_125_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a> repairs, not invited, but as if it were a matter -of course, to share the hospitality of Agamemnon. In -the Ninth Book, Nestor urges Agamemnon to give a -feast to the elders, as a duty of his office:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἔοικέ τοι, οὔτοι ἀεικές<a name="FNanchor_126_126" id="FNanchor_126_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>adding,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολέεσσι δ’ ἀνάσσεις</span><a name="FNanchor_127_127" id="FNanchor_127_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and then to take their counsel. But perhaps the -ordinary exercise of this duty is best exhibited in the -case of Alcinous, who is discovered by Ulysses on his -arrival entertaining his brother kings in his palace<a name="FNanchor_128_128" id="FNanchor_128_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a>.</p> - -<p>I have not here taken specific notice of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δώτιναι</span>, -or tributes, which, as Agamemnon promised, Achilles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -was to receive, from the seven cities, that it was proposed -to place under his dominion. The expression is<a name="FNanchor_129_129" id="FNanchor_129_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἵ κέ ἑ δωτίνῃσι θεὸν ὣς τιμήσουσιν,</div> - <div class="verse">καί οἱ ὑπὸ σκήπτρῳ λιπαρὰς τελέουσι θέμιστας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The connection of the ideas in the two lines respectively -would appear to show, that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δώτιναι</span> may be no -more than the fees payable to the sovereign on the administration -of justice.</p> - -<p>Thus then the king might draw his ordinary revenues -mainly from the following sources:</p> - -<p>First and principally, the public <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>, or demesne -land.</p> - -<p>Next, his own private acquisitions, such as the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγρὸς</span> -of Laertes.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, the fees on the administration of justice.</p> - -<p>Fourthly, the presents paid for licenses to trade.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The position of Agamemnon.</i></div> - -<p>The position of Agamemnon, the greatest king of -the heroic age, constitutes in itself too considerable a -feature of Greek polity at that period to be dismissed -without especial notice.</p> - -<p>He appears to have united in himself almost every -advantage which could tend to raise regal power to its -<i>acmè</i>. He was of a house moving onward in its as yet -unbroken career of accumulating greatness: he was -the head of that house, supported in Lacedæmon by his -affectionate brother Menelaus; and the double title of -the two was fortified with twin supports, by their marriages -with Clytemnestra and Helen respectively. This -family was at the head of the energetic race which -ruled, and deserved to rule, in the Greek peninsula; and -which apparently produced such large and full developments -of personal character, as the world has never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -seen, either before or since, at so infantine a stage of -civilization. There were various kings in the army before -Troy, but among them all the race of Pelopids was -the most kingly<a name="FNanchor_130_130" id="FNanchor_130_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a>. Agamemnon possessed the courage, -strength, and skill of a warrior, in a degree surpassed -only by the very greatest heroes of his nation; and -(according to Homer) evidently exceeding that of -Hector, the chief Trojan warrior opposed to him. He -must have been still in the flower of his age; and -though neither gifted with extraordinary talents, nor -with the most popular or attractive turn of character, -yet he possessed in a high degree the political spirit, the -sense of public responsibility, the faculty of identifying -himself with the general mind and will. Avarice and -irresolution appear to have been the two most faulty -points in his composition.</p> - -<p>His dominions were the largest which, up to that -time, had been known in that portion of the world: including -Greece, from Mount Olympus to the Malean -Cape, reaching across to the islands on the coast of Asia -Minor, and even capable of being held to include the -island of Cyprus. Before Troy, his troops were <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολὺ -πλεῖστοι καὶ ἄριστοι</span> (Il. ii. 577), which must imply, as -his ships were not greatly more numerous than those -of some other contingents, that they were of large size; -and he also supplied the Arcadians, who had none of -their own, (v. 612.) Lastly, he bore upon him the -mellow brightness of the patriarchal age, signified by -the title <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν</span>.</p> - -<p>Thucydides was not an antiquarian, or he would have -left on his history more marks of his researches in that -department. But he seems to have formed with care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -the opinions which he expresses on archaic Greece, in -the admirable introduction to his great work. Among -them he says that, as he conceives, the fear of Agamemnon -operated more powerfully than the oath given -to Tyndareus<a name="FNanchor_131_131" id="FNanchor_131_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a>, or than good will, in the formation of -the confederacy which undertook the war of Troy.</p> - -<p>It seems clear from Homer, that the name and fame -of Agamemnon were known far beyond the limits of -Greece, and that the reputation of being connected -with him was thought to be of value. For Menelaus, -on his return from Pharos to Egypt, erected there a -funeral mound in his honour<a name="FNanchor_132_132" id="FNanchor_132_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἵν’ ἄσβεστον κλέος εἴη</span>; -which he would not have done in a country, to whose -inhabitants that monarch was unknown. And again, -when Ulysses is challenged by the Cyclops to declare, -to what and to whom he and his crew belong, he makes -the reply, that they are the subjects of Agamemnon, -the son of Atreus<a name="FNanchor_133_133" id="FNanchor_133_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">λαοὶ δ’ Ἀτρείδεω Ἀγαμέμνονος εὐχόμεθ’ εἶναι,</div> - <div class="verse">τοῦ δὴ νῦν γε μέγιστον ὑπουράνιον κλέος ἐστίν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Ulysses evidently conceives the fame of the great monarch, -thus enhanced by success, to have been likely to -supply any one who belonged to him with a defence -against the formidable monster, before whom he stood.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Governing motives of the War.</i></div> - -<p>The statements of Homer respecting the position of -Agamemnon and the motives of the war, fall short of, -but are not wholly at variance with, the opinion which -has been expressed by Thucydides. Of the oath to -Tyndareus Homer knows nothing: but he tells us of the -oath, by which the Greek chieftains had bound themselves -to prosecute the expedition. Before setting out, -they had a solemn ceremonial at Aulis; they offered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -sacrifices, they made libations, they swore, they pledged -hands<a name="FNanchor_134_134" id="FNanchor_134_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a>, they saw a portent, and had it interpreted by -Calchas<a name="FNanchor_135_135" id="FNanchor_135_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a>. But all this only shows that the Atreidæ were -conscious how formidable an enterprise they were about, -and how they desired accordingly that their companion -kings should, after having once embarked, be as deeply -pledged as possible to go forward. It does not tell us -what was the original inducement to enter into the -undertaking. Again, it does not appear that the Greeks -in general cared much about the abduction or even the -restoration of Helen. The only passage directly touching -the point is the one in which Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_136_136" id="FNanchor_136_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a> expresses -his opinion that, if Menelaus should die of his wound, -the army would probably return home. It seems as -if Agamemnon thought, that without doubt they -would then be in honour released from their engagement, -and that they would at once avail themselves -of their freedom. The hope of booty, however, would -do much; and the members of a conquering race -unite together with great facility for purposes of war, -through a mixture of old fellow-feeling and the love -of adventure, as well as through anticipation of spoil. -On the other hand, it was evidently no small matter -to organize the expedition: much time was consumed; -a friendly embassy to Troy had been tried without -success; the ablest princes, Nestor and Ulysses, were -employed in obtaining cooperation. The general conclusion, -I think, is, that a combination of hope, sympathy, -respect, and fear, but certainly a very strong -personal feeling, whatever its precise ingredients may -have been, towards the Pelopid house, must have operated -largely in the matter. And it is in this spirit -that we should construe the various declarations of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -Homer respecting those who came to the war, as -courting the Atreidæ, and as acting for their honour; -namely these,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάριν Ἀτρείδῃσι φέροντες.</span> Od. v. 307.</div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀγαμέμνονι ἦρα φέροντες.</span> Il. xiv. 132.</div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τιμὴν ἀρνύμενοι Μενελάῳ σοί τε, κυνῶπα.</span> Il. i. 159.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Before Troy, Agamemnon is always regarded by -others as responsible for the expedition, and it is plain -that he so regards himself. The use of his sceptre by -Ulysses in the great effort to stem the torrent of the -retiring multitude, is highly significant of the influence -belonging to his station; and when Ulysses argues with -the leaders, he rests his case on the importance of -knowing the whole mind of Agamemnon, while he -strongly dwells on his royal authority, and on the -higher authority of heaven as its foundation.</p> - -<p>His position, however, did not place him above the -influence of jealousy and fear: for he was gratified -when he saw Achilles and Ulysses, the first of his chieftains, -at variance<a name="FNanchor_137_137" id="FNanchor_137_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a>. And his weight and authority depended -for their efficacy on reason, and on the free will -of the Greeks. Agamemnon takes Briseis from Achilles -by an act of force; but he nowhere seeks to move the -army, or the individuals composing it, upon that principle; -nor does the prolongation of the service appear to -have been placed beyond the judgment of the particular -chiefs and of the troops. Achilles not only declares that -he will go, but says he will advise others to go with -him<a name="FNanchor_138_138" id="FNanchor_138_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a>, and asks Phœnix to remain in his tent for the -purpose. The deference paid to the Head is a deference -according to measure; and the measure is that of -his greater responsibility, his heavier stake in the war<a name="FNanchor_139_139" id="FNanchor_139_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -His functions in regard to the host are, to think for -and advise it in council, and to stimulate it by exhortation -and example in the field. If we may rely on -Homer, it was essentially, so far as regarded the relation -between the general in chief and the rest of the -body, a free military organization.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Personal Character of Agamemnon.</i></div> - -<p>The Agamemnon of Homer does not appear to be -intended by the Poet for a man of genius. But on -this very account, the dominance of political ideas in -his mind is more remarkable. On political grounds he -is ready to give up Chryseis<a name="FNanchor_140_140" id="FNanchor_140_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a>. On political grounds he -quells his own avarice, and slays Trojans instead of -taking ransom for them<a name="FNanchor_141_141" id="FNanchor_141_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a>. He deeply feels the responsibilities -of his station, and care banishes his sleep. The -amiable trait in his character is his affection for Menelaus, -and in this, as in many other respects, he recalls -the Jupiter of Homer, whose selfishness is nowhere relieved, -except by paternal affection.</p> - -<p>Further, Agamemnon, though without genius, is a -practitioner in finesse. In his love of this art, I fear, -he resembles the tribe of later politicians. He resembles -them, too, in outwitting himself by means of it: -he is ‘hoist upon his own petard.’ This seems to be, -in part at least, the explanation of his unhappy device in -the Second Iliad, to prepare the people for an attack on -Troy, by counselling them to go home forthwith. The -breakdown of his scheme is, as it were, the first-fruits -of retribution for his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄτη</span> in the First Book.——</p> - -<p>As, upon the whole, there is no idea of selfishness -involved in the prerogatives of the Homeric king, so is -it clear that, except as against mere criminals, there is -no general idea of coercion. The Homeric king reigns -with the free assent of his subjects—an assent inde<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>terminate, -but real, and in both points alike resembling -his kingly power. The relation between ruler and ruled -is founded in the laws and condition of our nature. -Born in a state of dependence, man, when he attains -to freedom and capacity for action, finds himself the -debtor both of his parents and of society at large; and -is justly liable to discharge his debt by rendering service -in return. Of this we have various indications in -Homer, with respect to parents in particular. Those -who die young, like Simoeisius by the hand of Ajax<a name="FNanchor_142_142" id="FNanchor_142_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a>, -die before they have repaid to their parents the cost, -that is the care, of their education (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θρεπτρά</span>). In a most -remarkable and characteristic passage. Phœnix describes -how, when he was young, some deity restrained his -wrath against his father, and shows the infamy that -would attend the taking away of that life, in a country -where voluntary homicide, in general, was regarded -more as a misfortune than a crime<a name="FNanchor_143_143" id="FNanchor_143_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ὅς ῥ’ ἐνὶ θυμῷ</div> - <div class="verse">δήμου θῆκε φάτιν, καὶ ὀνείδεα πόλλ’ ἀνθρώπων,</div> - <div class="verse">ὡς μὴ πατροφόνος μετ’ Ἀχαιοῖσιν καλεοίμην.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The reciprocal obligations of father and son are -beautifully shown by Andromache in her lament over -Hector, when she speaks of her child<a name="FNanchor_144_144" id="FNanchor_144_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_144_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">οὔτε σὺ τούτῳ</div> - <div class="verse">ἔσσεαι, Ἕκτορ, ὄνειαρ, ἐπεὶ θάνες, οὔτε σοὶ οὗτος.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The relation of sovereign and subject free.</i></div> - -<p>As to the relation between the subject and the sovereign -authority, it seems everywhere to be taken for -granted. In the Twenty-fourth Odyssey, the object of -those who march against Ulysses is not to put down -authority, but to avenge the deaths of their sons and -brothers. But there appears nowhere in Homer the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -idea that in this relation could be involved a difference -of interest, or even of opinion, between class and class, -between governors and governed. The king or chief -was uplifted to set a high example, to lead the common -counsels to common ends, to conduct the public and -common intercourse with heaven, to decide the strifes -of individuals, to defend the borders of the territory -from invasion. That the community at home, or any -regularly subsisting class of it, could require repression -or restraint from the government, was an idea happily -unknown to the Homeric times.</p> - -<p>Those classes, indeed, were few and simple. There -was, first of all, the king; and round him his family -and his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κήρυκες</span>, the serjeants or heralds, who were his -immediate, and apparently his only immediate, agents. -They conveyed his orders; they assisted him in the -Assembly, in sacrifice, and in banquets. They appear -to be the only executive officers that are found in Homer. -With these was the Bard, apparently also an indispensable -member of royal households. Both were -recognised among the established professions.</p> - -<p>Next to the kings and other sovereigns, we must -place the chief proprietors of the country. In the -Odyssey, we find the members of the aristocracy having -their own estates and functions, and sustaining the -part of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>, or leaders in the Assembly. The judicial -office, as we have seen from the Shield and otherwise, -was in their hands, probably by delegation. But -it would appear, that the distinction between them and -the sovereign family was rather a broad one; since, in -almost every case, we seem to find the prince contracting -a marriage beyond his own borders. Laertes brings -Anticlea<a name="FNanchor_145_145" id="FNanchor_145_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_145_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a> from the neighbourhood of Parnassus; The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>seus -marries Ariadne from Crete; Agamemnon and -Menelaus, belonging to Mycenæ, are united to the -daughters of the king of Sparta; of the two daughters -of Icarius, Ulysses in Ithaca married Penelope, and Eumelus -in Pheræ married Iphthime (Od. iv. 797); one of -the two, at least, and perhaps both, must have married -from a considerable distance; Menelaus sends his beautiful -daughter Hermione to be the wife of Neoptolemus -in Thessaly: and the only instance, even apparently in -the opposite sense, seems to be that of his son Megapenthes, -who married a Spartan damsel, the daughter -of Alector. But then Megapenthes was not legitimate; -he was born of a slave-mother, and therefore he was -not a prince<a name="FNanchor_146_146" id="FNanchor_146_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_146_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a>. All these facts seem to show us that -the royal houses formed a network among themselves, -spread over Greece, and keeping pretty distinct from -the aristocracy: a circumstance which may, in some -degree, help to explain the wonderful patience and -constancy of Penelope.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Other classes of the community.</i></div> - -<p>Next to the nobles, and in the third place, we -may class what we should now call trades and professions: -observing, however, that, in Homer’s time, both -the useful arts and the fine arts had a social dignity, -as compared with that of wealth and station, which -the former have long ago lost, and which the later -have not retained in as full manner as perhaps might -be desired, not for their own advantage merely, but to -secure due honour for labour, and the humanizing effect -of this kind of labour in particular for society at large. -I draw the proof of their estimation in the heroic age, -first, from the manner in which they are combined -under the common designation of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιοεργοὶ</span>, and ar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>ranged -in a mixed order, the preference being only given -by a more emphatic description to the bard<a name="FNanchor_147_147" id="FNanchor_147_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_147_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">τῶν, οἳ δημιοεργοὶ ἔασιν,</div> - <div class="verse">μάντιν, ἢ ἰητῆρα κακῶν, ἢ τέκτονα δούρων,</div> - <div class="verse">ἢ καὶ θέσπιν ἀοιδὸν, ὅ κεν τέρπῃσιν ἀείδων;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here I take <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέκτονα δούρων</span> to represent the entire -class of artificers, of whom many are named in Homer; -in a poor country like Ithaca, depending very much on -the use of boats for fishing and for its communications, -the carpenters might naturally represent the whole.</p> - -<p>And next, from the manner in which these arts -were practised by princes, it seems plain that there was -nothing in the pursuit of them inconsistent with high -rank. The physicians, or surgeons rather, of the Greek -army, Podaleirius and Machaon, were themselves princes -and commanders of a contingent: and even Paris, who -was not the man to demean himself by employments -beneath his station, seems to have taken the chief share -in the erection of his own palace<a name="FNanchor_148_148" id="FNanchor_148_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_148_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">τά ῥ’ αὐτὸς ἔτευξε σὺν ἀνδράσιν, οἳ τότ’ ἄριστοι</div> - <div class="verse">ἦσαν ἐνὶ Τροίῃ ἐριβώλακι τέκτονες ἄνδρες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, the bard of Agamemnon was appointed quasi-guardian<a name="FNanchor_149_149" id="FNanchor_149_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> -to Clytemnestra in her husband’s absence: -and Phemius, the bard of Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_150_150" id="FNanchor_150_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a>, proceeded to the -Assembly of the Twenty-fourth Odyssey in order to -prevent any tumult, together with Medon the herald, -who addressed the people accordingly. The heralds, or -serjeants, are also recognised as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιοεργοί</span><a name="FNanchor_151_151" id="FNanchor_151_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a>. Again, Alitherses, -being the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span> or seer of the island, and apparently -the only one, takes part in the debates both -of the Second and of the Twenty-fourth Books.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<p>The professions, then, thus far are five:</p> - -<p> -1. Seers.<br /> -2. Surgeons.<br /> -3. Artificers.<br /> -4. Bards.<br /> -5. Heralds.<br /> -</p> - -<p>We may remark the absence of priests and merchants. -Not that merchants were unknown: we find -them mentioned by Euryalus the Phæacian, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρηκτῆρες</span>, -but their business was esteemed sordid; it too -much resembled that of the kidnapper or swindler, -and it is the reproach of seeming to belong to this class -that smartly stings Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_152_152" id="FNanchor_152_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_152_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a>. And even the merchant -Mentes, whose form was assumed by Pallas, belonged to -the Taphians, a tribe of pirates<a name="FNanchor_153_153" id="FNanchor_153_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a>. As yet, neither the -order of priests would seem to have been completely -taken over from the Pelasgians, nor the class of merchants -formed in imitation of the Phœnicians.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Slaves in the Homeric age.</i></div> - -<p>After the classes we have named, come the great mass -of the population, who till the ground and tend the live -stock for themselves or their employers, if free, and for -their lords if slaves. The fisherman, too, is distinctly -noticed<a name="FNanchor_154_154" id="FNanchor_154_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a> in Ithaca. Mr. Grote classes with the free -husbandmen the artisans<a name="FNanchor_155_155" id="FNanchor_155_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_155_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a>, and separates both of them -from the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θῆτες</span>, or hired labourers, and the slaves. It -appears to me, however, that we ought to distinguish -the artisans from the mere husbandmen, as having been -in a higher station. On the other hand, I see no passage -in Homer which clearly gives to the husbandmen as a -class a condition superior to that of the hired servants, -or even, perhaps, the slaves. The evidence of the -poems is not clear as to the existence or extent of a -peasant proprietary. We must beware of confounding -those conceptions of a slavery maintained whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>sale -for the purposes of commerce, which our experience -supplies, with its earliest form, in which the -number of slaves would seem to have been small, and -their ranks to have been recruited principally by war, -with slight and casual aid from kidnapping. In those -times, the liability to captivity would seem to have -affected all men alike, independently of all distinctions -whether in rank or in blood. The sons of Priam were -sold into slavery like any one else: the only difference -was, that, in proportion to the wealth of the parents, -there was a better chance of ransom. It would appear -that the slaves of Homer were properly, even when -not indoor, yet domestic. The women discharged the -indoor and household offices: except that a few men -performed strictly personal services about their masters, -as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δρηστῆρες</span> and as carvers<a name="FNanchor_156_156" id="FNanchor_156_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_156_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεράποντε δαήμονε δαιτροσυνάων</span>). -But the men-slaves were more largely employed -out of doors in the care of flocks and herds, -fields and vineyards. Thus, the slaves were in a different -position apparently from the freemen, for they seem -to have been gathered as servants and attendants round -the rich. It would appear, however, from the case of -Eumæus, who had a slave of his own, Mesaulios<a name="FNanchor_157_157" id="FNanchor_157_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_157_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a>, that -they might hold property for themselves. Again, not -Eumæus only, but in the Twenty-fourth Odyssey Dolius -and his six sons, sit down to table together with Ulysses, -and fondly clasp his hands. They bear arms too; and this -could not have been very strange, for Homer describes -the arming of the sons without remark, while he calls -both the father and Laertes, on account of their old age<a name="FNanchor_158_158" id="FNanchor_158_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_158_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a>,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀναγκαῖοι πολεμισταί</span>. The moral deterioration of slaves -is noticed very strongly by Eumæus himself<a name="FNanchor_159_159" id="FNanchor_159_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_159_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a>, though -not with reference to himself. We have, however, no -reason to suppose that their outward condition was -inferior to that of the free labouring population in any -thing, except that we must presume they did not take -part in the assemblies or in war. When Achilles<a name="FNanchor_160_160" id="FNanchor_160_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_160_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a> in -the infernal regions compares the highest condition -there with the lowest on earth, he does not choose the -slave, but the labourer for hire (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θητεύεμεν</span> is his expression), -as the type of a depressed condition upon earth. -The state of the hired servant probably resembled that -of the slave in being dependent upon others, and fell -beneath it in the point of security. This is the more -likely, because the point of the passage turns on the -poverty of the employer,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀνδρὶ παρ’ ἀκλήρῳ, ᾧ μὴ βιοτὸς πολὺς εἴη</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>as constituting the misery of the servant.</p> - -<p>Indeed, if we consider the matter a little further, we -shall perhaps see the greater reason to think, that the -expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θητεύεμεν</span> has been chosen otherwise than at -random. What do we mean by a hired servant, at a -period in the movement of society when money did not -exist? We can only mean one who was paid by food, -clothes, and lodging, like a slave, but who was not, like -a slave, permanently attached to his master or his master’s -estate. The difference between the two would -thus lie in the absence of the permanent tie: a difference -much more against the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θὴς</span>, than in his favour.</p> - -<p>The position, then, of the slaves was probably analogous -to that of domestic servants among ourselves, who -practically forfeit the active exercise of political privileges, -but are in many respects better off than the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -mass of those who depend on bodily labour. It doubtless -grew out of the state of things in which slaves -were practically servants, and servants of the rich, that -masters, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνακτες</span><a name="FNanchor_161_161" id="FNanchor_161_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_161_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a>, were regarded as constituting the -wealthy class of the community.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Supply of military service.</i></div> - -<p>I stop for a moment to observe, that the view here -taken of the comparatively restricted numbers and -sphere of the slaves in heroic Greece may serve in some -degree to answer the question, why do we not hear of -them in the army of the Iliad? As men of equal blood -with the Greeks themselves, they would perhaps be -dangerous comrades in arms. As persons established -in charge of the property of the lord, there would be a -strong motive to leave them behind for its care. It is -very difficult to judge how far the state of heroic -Greece bore any resemblance to the feudal system of -the later middle ages, and whether it did not present a -more substantial correspondence with the allodial system -of the earlier. We have before us a large number -of independent proprietors, each bound by usage probably -to render personal service, but we have nothing -that resembles the obligation to bring so many retainers -into the field with reference to the size of the -estate. And accordingly, in the Iliad we do not find -many merely personal retainers. The menial services in -the tent of Achilles are performed by the women-captives, -or by Patroclus in person. After Patroclus was -dead, his tent was attended only by Automedon, his -charioteer, and by one other warrior. Agamemnon had -no other male attendants that we hear of, except his -two herald-serjeants, Talthybius and Eurybates, who -discharged a double function<a name="FNanchor_162_162" id="FNanchor_162_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_162_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τώ οἱ ἔσαν κήρυκε καὶ ὀτρηρὼ θεράποντε.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>We may infer from the poems, that each independent -family furnished one or more of its members, drawn by -lot, to serve in the expedition<a name="FNanchor_163_163" id="FNanchor_163_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_163_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a>. Such is the declaration -of the pseudo-Myrmidon to Priam: and again, in -the Odyssey we find Ægyptius<a name="FNanchor_164_164" id="FNanchor_164_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_164_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a> of Ithaca had sent one -son to Troy, while he kept three at home. The inference -is strengthened<a name="FNanchor_165_165" id="FNanchor_165_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_165_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a> by the negative evidence of the -Twenty-fourth Odyssey. There<a name="FNanchor_166_166" id="FNanchor_166_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_166_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a> Dolius the slave appears -with no less than six sons: but no mention is -made of any member of his family as having attended -Ulysses to Troy, although, if there had been such a -person, some reference to him here, in the presence of -Ulysses just returned, would have been most appropriate. -Indeed, the six are introduced as ‘the sons’ of -Dolius, which of itself almost excludes the idea of his -having sent any son to the war.</p> - -<p>Again, we see that the whole mass of the soldiery -attended the assemblies, and were there addressed by -kings and chiefs in terms which seemed to imply a -brotherhood. They are ‘friends, Danaan heroes, satellites -of Mars<a name="FNanchor_167_167" id="FNanchor_167_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_167_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a>,’ and it is hard to suppose such words -could be addressed to persons held in slavery, however -mild, familiar, or favourable. The employment of these -terms may suggest a comparison with our own modes -of public address, according to which the word ‘Gentlemen’ -would be commonly used, though the audience -should be composed in great part of the humbler class. -But all these words are so many proofs of that political -freedom, pervading the community and the spirit of its -institutions as a whole, which exacts this kind of homage -from the great and wealthy on public occasions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was a natural and healthful sign of the state of -political society, that slavery was held to be odious. -But it was odious on account of its effects on the -mind, and not because it entailed cruelty or oppression. -There is not, I think, a single passage in the -poems which in any degree conveys the impression -either of hardship endured, or of resentment felt, by -any slave of the period.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to a peasant proprietary.</i></div> - -<p>Neither, as has been said, is there any thing in Homer, -which clearly exhibits to us a peasant-proprietary; or -entitles us positively to assert that the land was cultivated -to a great extent by small proprietors, each -acting independently for himself. On the one hand, -as has been remarked, we do not find large numbers of -personal retainers and servants about the great men: but, -on the other hand, Homer does not paint for us a single -picture of the independent peasant. In the similes, in -the legends, on the Shield of Achilles, in Ithaca, we hear -much of large flocks and herds, of great proprietors, of -their harvest-fields and their vineyards, but nothing of -the small freeman, with property in land sufficient for -his family, and no more. The rural labour, which he -shows us in action, is organized on a large scale.</p> - -<p>The question, what after all was the actual condition -of the Greek people in the age of the <i>Troica</i>, is thus -left in great obscurity. It is indeed at once the capital -point, and the one of which history, chronicle, and -poem commonly take the least notice. Upon the -whole it would appear most reasonable, while abstaining -from too confident assertion, to suppose,</p> - -<p>1. That, as respected primogeniture and the disposition -of landed property, society was aristocratically -organized.</p> - -<p>2. That this aristocratic organization, being founded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -on military occupation, embraced a rather wide range -of greater and of smaller proprietors.</p> - -<p>3. That these proprietors, by superior wealth, energy, -and influence, led the remainder of the population.</p> - -<p>4. That there may have existed a peasant-proprietary -class in considerable numbers, neither excluded from -political privilege nor exempt from military service, -but yet not combined, under ordinary circumstances, -by any community of interest or of hardship; led, not -unwillingly, by the dominant Achæan race; and by no -means forming a social element of such interest or attractiveness, -in the view of the Poet, as to claim a -marked place or vivid delineation, which it certainly -has not received, on his canvass.</p> - -<p>5. That the cultivation of the greater estates was -carried on by hired labourers and by slaves, between -which two classes, for that period, no very broad line of -distinction can be drawn.</p> - -<p>It is not within the scope of this work to enter -largely upon the ‘political economy’ of the Homeric -age. But, as being itself an important feature of -polity, it cannot be altogether overlooked; and this -appears to be the place for referring to it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Political Economy of the Homeric age.</i></div> - -<p>There has been, of late years, debate and research -respecting the name given to the important science, -which treats of the creation and distribution of wealth. -The phrase ‘political economy,’ which has been established -by long usage, cannot be defended on its -merits. The name Chrematistic has been devised in its -stead; an accurate, but perhaps rather dry definition, -which does not, like the names <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πολιτικὴ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠθικὴ</span>, -and like the exceptionable title it is meant to displace, -take the human being, who is the real subject of the -science, into view. Homer has provided us beforehand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -with a word which, as it appears to me, retrenches the -phrase ‘economy’ precisely in the point where retrenchment -is required. The Ulysses of the Fourteenth -Odyssey, in one of his fabulous accounts of himself as -a Cretan, states<a name="FNanchor_168_168" id="FNanchor_168_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_168_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">ἔργον δέ μοι οὐ φίλον ἔσκεν</div> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ οἰκωφελίη, ἥτε τρέφει ἀγλαὰ τέκνα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And I believe that, were it not too late to change a -name, ‘political œcophely’ precisely expresses the idea -of the science, which, having its fountain-head in good -housekeeping, treats, when it has reached its expansion -and maturity, of the ‘Wealth of Nations.’</p> - -<p>It was not surprising, that the Greeks of the heroic -age should have a name for the business of growing -wealthy; for it was one to which Hellenes, as well as -Pelasgians, appear to have taken kindly. Of this we find -various tokens. Though the spirit of acquisition had not -yet reached the point, at which it becomes injurious to -the general development of man, we appear to have in -the distinguished house of the Pelopids at least one -isolated example of its excess. We have the friendly -testimony of Nestor, as well as the fierce invective of -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_169_169" id="FNanchor_169_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_169_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a>, to show that in Agamemnon it constituted a -weakness: and he is distinguished in war from the other -great chieftains<a name="FNanchor_170_170" id="FNanchor_170_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_170_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a>, by his habit of forthwith stripping -those whom he had slain. But Ulysses also, to whom we -may be certain that Homer did not mean in this matter -to impute a fault, was, according to Eumæus<a name="FNanchor_171_171" id="FNanchor_171_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_171_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a>, richer -than any twenty; and after making every allowance -for friendly exaggeration, we cannot doubt that Homer -meant us to understand that, in the wealth of those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -days, he was very opulent. The settlement from time -to time of Phœnicians in Greece, and the ready docility -of the Hellenes in the art of navigation, are signs to the -same effect. The idea of wealth again is deeply involved -in the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄλβος</span>, which appears to mean a -god-given felicity: and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάκαρ</span> is the epithet in common -of the gods, the rich man, and the happy man<a name="FNanchor_172_172" id="FNanchor_172_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_172_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a>. Not -that the Greeks of those times were, in a greater -degree than ourselves, the slaves of wealth, but that -they spoke out in their simplicity, here, as also with -other matters, what we keep in the shade; and thus -they made a greater show of particular propensities, -even while they had less of them in reality.</p> - -<p>But, even more than from particular signs, I estimate -the capacity of the Homeric Greeks for acquisition -from the state of facts in the poems. Here we observe -a remarkable temperance, and even a detestation of -excess, in all the enjoyments of the senses, combined -with the possession, not only of a rude abundance in -meat, corn, and wine, but with the principle of ornament, -largely, though inartificially, established in their -greater houses and gardens; with considerable stores of -the precious as well as the useful metals, and of fine -raiment; and with the possession of somewhat rich works -of art, both in metal and embroidery. This picture -seems to belong to a stage, although a very early one, -in a process of rapid advance to material wealth and -prosperity. The wealth and the simplicity of manners, -taken together, would seem to imply that they had not -yet had time to be corrupted by it, and consequently -that, by their energy and prudence, they had gathered -it promptly and with ease.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> -<div class="sidenote"><i>The precious metals not a measure of value.</i></div> - -<p>The commercial intercourse of the age, however, was -still an intercourse of barter. There can hardly be a -stronger sign of the rudeness of trading relations, than -the Homeric use of the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χρεῖος</span>. It signifies both -the obligation to pay a debt regularly contracted for -value received (Od. iii. 367), and the liability to sustain -retaliation after an act of rapine (Il. xi. 686, 8). The -possession of the precious metals was probably confined -to a very few. Both these, and iron, which apparently -stood next to them in value, formed prizes at the -Games; in which, speaking generally, only kings and -chiefs took part. A certain approximation had been -made towards the use of them as money, that is, as the -measure of value for other commodities. For, as they -were divided into fixed quantities, those quantities -were in all likelihood certified by some mark or stamp -upon them. Nor do we ever find mere unwrought -gold and silver estimated or priced in any other commodity. -The arms of Glaucus are indeed <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβοῖα</span><a name="FNanchor_173_173" id="FNanchor_173_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_173_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a>, -and they are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χρύσεα</span>. But this means gilded or -adorned with gold; an object made of gold would -with Homer be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παγχρύσεος</span>. Such are the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θύσανοι</span>, the -gold drops or tassels of Minerva’s Ægis; each of which -is worth an hundred oxen. Thus gold, when manufactured, -even if not when in mass, had its value expressed -in oxen<a name="FNanchor_174_174" id="FNanchor_174_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_174_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a>.</p> - -<p>It is possible that gold and silver may, to a limited -extent, have been used as a standard, or as a medium -of exchange. The payment of the judge’s fee in the -Eighteenth Iliad suggests, though it does not absolutely -require, this supposition. Like writing in the -Homeric age, like printing when it was executed from -a mould among the Ancients, the practice may have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -existed essentially, but in a form and on a scale that -deprived it of importance, by limiting its extent.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Oxen in some degree a measure of value.</i></div> - -<p>The arms of Glaucus and Diomed, and the drops of -Minerva’s Ægis, are, as we have seen, valued or priced -in oxen. The tripod, which was the first prize for the -wrestlers of the Twenty-third Book, was valued at -twelve oxen: the captive woman, who was the second, -accomplished in works of industry, was worth -four<a name="FNanchor_175_175" id="FNanchor_175_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_175_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a>.</p> - -<p>But Laertes gave for Euryclea no less than twenty -oxen, or rather the value of twenty oxen (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐεικοσάβοια δ’ -ἔδωκεν</span>, Od. i. 431). We need not ascribe the difference -in costliness to the superior merit of Euryclea; -but we may presume the explanation to be, that Laertes, -in time of peace, paid for Euryclea the high -price of an importing market; whereas the Greeks, in -a state of war before Troy, had probably more captives -than they knew how to feed. They were, at any rate, -in the country of production: and the price was low -accordingly.</p> - -<p>When we find it said that a woman slave was estimated -at four oxen, we are not enabled at once to judge -from such a statement whether oxen were a measure of -value, or whether the meaning simply was, that a man, -who wanted such a slave, would give four oxen for -her. But the case of Euryclea clears up this point. -For what Laertes gave was not the twenty oxen, but -something equal to them, something in return for -which they could ordinarily be had. Again, Lycaon -brought Achilles the value of a hundred oxen, a hundred -oxen’s worth<a name="FNanchor_176_176" id="FNanchor_176_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_176_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a>. In this case, then, oxen are used -as a medium for the expression of value.</p> - -<p>In a passage of the Odyssey, we find that the Suitors,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -when they try to make terms with Ulysses in his wrath, -promise as follows by the mouth of Eurymachus<a name="FNanchor_177_177" id="FNanchor_177_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_177_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τιμὴν ἀμφὶς ἄγοντες ἐεικοσάβοιον ἕκαστος,</div> - <div class="verse">χαλκόν τε χρυσόν τ’ ἀποδώσομεν, εἰσόκε σὸν κῆρ</div> - <div class="verse">ἰανθῇ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This has been rendered as a double engagement to -pay the oxen and the metals. It seems to me, from -the construction of the passage, as if it would be more -properly understood to be a declaration, that they -would each of them bring him a compensation of the -value of twenty oxen in gold, and in copper. If Eurymachus -had meant to express the restoration of the live -stock of Ulysses, it is not likely that he would have -spoken of oxen only, especially in the goat-feeding and -swine-feeding Ithaca.</p> - -<p>There is another passage in the poems, which seems -to carry a similar testimony one point further. When -Euneus sends ships with wine to the Greek camp, the -Greeks pay him for his wine, some with copper, some -with iron, some with hides, some with slaves, and some -with oxen. Slaves, as we have seen, would probably -be redundant in the camp. The same would be eminently -the case with respect to hides; since they would -be redundantly supplied by the animals continually -slaughtered for the subsistence of the army. Even as -to the metals, we need not feel surprise at the passage; -for they were acquired largely by spoil, and not greatly -needed by the force, since wear and tear scarcely constitute -an element in the question of supply for those -times. But it is certainly more startling that any of -the Greeks should have sold oxen to the crews of -Euneus. Neither in that age nor in this would any -merchants carry away oxen from a vast and crowded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -camp, where they would be certain to be in the highest -demand. I therefore presume the meaning to be as -follows; that those particular Greeks, who happened -to have more oxen than they wanted at the moment, -sold them to the people of the ships; and that the -people of the ships took these oxen, in exchange for -wine, not intending to carry them away, but to sell -them again, perhaps against hides or slaves on the -spot, as the live cattle would be certain to find a -ready and advantageous market among other Greeks -of the army.</p> - -<p>Oxen therefore, in that age, seem to have come -nearer, than any other commodity, to the discharge of -the functions now performed by the precious metals: -for they were both used to express value, and probably -purchased not for use only, but also with a view to -re-sale. Thus the Homeric evidence, with respect to -them, is in conformity with the testimony of Æschylus -in the Agamemnon, who seems to represent the ox as -the first sign imprinted upon money<a name="FNanchor_178_178" id="FNanchor_178_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_178_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a>.</p> - -<p>The precious metals themselves were much employed -for both personal ornament and for art. This was, no -doubt, their proper and established application; and -when they are stored, they are stored in common with -other metals not of the same class, and with a view, in -all likelihood, to manufacture.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Relative scarcity of metals.</i></div> - -<p>It appears clear, from the Homeric poems, that silver -was more rare than gold. It is used, when used at all, -in smaller quantities: and it much more rarely appears -in the accounts of stored-up wealth. A like inference -may be drawn, perhaps, from the books of Moses; and -it corresponds with the anticipations we should reasonably -form from the fact that gold is found in a native<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -state, and, even when mixed with other material, is -more readily fitted for use. The extensive employment -of silver only arrives, when society is more advanced, -and when the use of money is more familiar and minute. -Payments in the precious metals on a somewhat -large scale precede those for smaller transactions. We -are not however to infer, from the greater rarity of -silver, that it was more valuable than gold: the value -depending, not on the comparative quantities only, but -upon the compound ratio of the quantities as compared -with the demand. It would however appear from a -passage in the account of the funeral games, that gold, -if not silver, was then much less esteemed than it now -is. For, while a silver bowl was the first prize of the -foot-race, a large and fat ox (perhaps worth three ordinary -ones) was the second, and a half talent of gold -was only the third<a name="FNanchor_179_179" id="FNanchor_179_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_179_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a>.</p> - -<p>The position of iron, however, relatively to the other -metals, was very different in the heroic age from what -it now is: and probably its great rarity was due, like -that of silver, to the difficulty of bringing the metal -into a state fit for use; which could more readily be -effected with copper, with tin, or with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>, in whatever -sense it is to be interpreted. Iron, however, would -appear to have been more valuable than these metals; -greatly more valuable, in particular, than copper, which is -now worth from fifteen to twenty times as much as iron. -A mass of crude iron is produced at the funeral games -as a prize; and iron made into axe-heads forms another. -No other metal, below the rank of gold and silver, is ever -similarly employed in an unmanufactured state.—</p> - -<p>Let us now turn to a brief view of the polity and -organization of the army.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> -<p>We perceive the organization of the Greek communities -in a double form: both as a community, properly -so called, in time of peace, a picture supplied by the -Odyssey; and likewise as an army, according to the delineations -of the Iliad.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Mode of government of the army.</i></div> - -<p>The differences are worth noting: but they do not -seem to touch fundamental principles. Agamemnon -governed the army by the ordinary political instruments, -not by the rules of military discipline. Aristotle<a name="FNanchor_180_180" id="FNanchor_180_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_180_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a> -quotes from the Iliad of his own day and place, -and as proceeding from the mouth of Agamemnon, -the words,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">πὰρ γὰρ ἐμοὶ θάνατος·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and Grote founds upon this citation the remark, that -‘the Alexandrian critics effaced many traces of the old -manners.’ But was this really a trace of the old manners? -Is there a single passage now remaining of the -Iliad, a single thought, a single word, which at all corresponds -with the idea that Agamemnon had in his -own hands, in the shape of a defined prerogative, the -power of capital punishment? Aristotle certainly accepts -the passage, and contrasts this military power of -Agamemnon with the restraints upon him in the -peaceful sphere of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορή</span>; but I am by no means -sure that English institutions do not afford us the -aid of far more powerful analogies for appreciating the -real political spirit of the Homeric poems, than any -that even Aristotle could draw in his own day from -the orientalizing government of Alexander. I do not, -however, so much question the passage, as the construction -put upon it. The prerogatives of the Greek -kings were founded in general duty and feeling, not in -law. When Ulysses belaboured Thersites, it was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -in the exercise of a determinate right, but in obedience -to the dictates of general prudence, which, upon a high -emergency, the general sense approved. Doubtless, -if Agamemnon had caught a runaway from the ranks, -he might have slain him; but is it supposed that -Ulysses might not? What was the meaning of the -advice of Nestor, to put the poltroons in the middle of -the ranks, but that their comrades about them should -spear them if they should try to run? There is no -criminal justice, in the proper sense of the term, though -there is civil justice, in either of the Homeric poems; -the wrongs of man to man are adjusted or requited by -the latter form of remedy, but the ideas on which the -former rests were unknown: there is no king’s peace, -more than there is a king’s highway: the sanctions of -force are added upon occasion to the general authority -of office by those who bear it, according to the suggestions -of their common sense. Had it been otherwise, -Ulysses would never have put the wretched women in -his household, who could not, like the Suitors their -paramours, be politically formidable, to a death, which -fully entitled him to say with the Agamemnon of the -citation, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πὰρ γὰρ ἐμοὶ θάνατος</span>. The general reverence -for rank and station, the safeguard of publicity, and the -influence of persuasion, are the usual and sufficient instruments -for governing the army, even as they governed -the civil societies of Greece. In the Assembly of the -army, the quarrel with Achilles takes place: in the Assembly -arises the tumultuary impulse to return home: -in the Assembly, that impulse having been checked, it -is deliberately resolved to see what they can do by -fighting: in the Assembly it is determined to ask a -truce for burials, and to erect the rampart: in the nocturnal -Assembly that Council is appointed to sit, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -sends the abortive mission to Achilles. Every great -measure affecting the whole body is, as we shall find, -adopted in the Assembly: and, finally, it is here that -Agamemnon explicitly confesses and laments his fault, -and that the reconciliation with Achilles is ratified.</p> - -<p>We may therefore take the polity, so to speak, of -the Greek army into a common view with that of the -Ithacan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορή</span>; but first it will be well to sketch its -military organization.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Its military composition.</i></div> - -<p>Next to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span> came the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔξοχοι ἄνδρες</span> (Il. ii. -188), or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες</span>, of the Greek army. They are pretty -clearly distinguished from the kings in the speech of -Achilles (ix. 334); when, after describing the niggardliness -of Agamemnon with respect to booty, he goes -on to say,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἄλλα δ’ ἀριστήεσσι δίδου γέρα καὶ βασιλεῦσιν·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which I understand to mean, he gave to these two -classes prizes different, i. e. proportioned to their respective -stations.</p> - -<p>The language of the Catalogue pointedly marks the -same distinction in other words. At the beginning, the -Poet invites the Muses to tell him (ver. 487),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἵτινες ἡγεμόνες Δαναῶν καὶ κοίρανοι ἦσαν</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and at the close he says (ver. 760),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὗτοι ἄρ’ ἡγεμόνες Δαναῶν καὶ κοίρανοι ἦσαν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>These two verses appear to be in evident correspondence -with each other: and if so, we may the more confidently -rely on the language as carefully chosen to describe -the two classes, first the kings as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κοίρανοι</span> (cf. Il. -ii. 204, 207), and, secondly, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες</span> as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span>.</p> - -<p>This class, it is probable, consisted,</p> - -<p>First, of the leaders of the minor and less significant -contingents.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>Secondly, of lieutenants, or those who are named in -the Catalogue as holding inferior commands under the -great leaders (such as Meriones, Sthenelus, and Euryalus).</p> - -<p>But, below the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span> of the Catalogue, there -would appear to have been several grades of minor -officers, in command of smaller subdivisions of the -army. These would seem to have been described by a -general name, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span>. When Nestor (ii. 362) advises -the distribution of the army according to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φῦλα</span> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φρήτραι</span>, it will, he says, have the advantage of showing -not only which of the soldiers, but which of the officers -were good, and which bad. Probably therefore there -were officers of each <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φῦλον</span>, if not even, under these, -of each <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φρήτρη</span>.</p> - -<p>Of the Greeks nine are named in Il. xi. 301-3, who -were slain by Hector at once, before he went among -the privates (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πληθύς</span>). Of these nine no one is mentioned -in any other part of the poem; and since at the -same time they are expressly declared to be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span>, -we may safely look upon them as examples of the class -of minor or secondary officers. From their names, -which have a strong Hellenic colour<a name="FNanchor_181_181" id="FNanchor_181_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_181_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a>, we may venture -at least to conjecture, that this class was chiefly -Achæan, or of Achæan rank, and that the Pelasgian -blood of the army was principally among the common -soldiers.</p> - -<p>The maritime order of the armament, which required -a commander for each vessel, necessarily involved -the existence of a class of what we may call -subaltern officers.</p> - -<p>When Helen describes the chieftains to Priam from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -the tower, of whom Idomeneus is one, she proceeds -(Il. iii. 231);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀμφὶ δέ μιν Κρητῶν ἀγοὶ ἠγερέθονται.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, when Achilles went with fifty ships to Troy, -he divided his 2500 men under five <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡγεμόνες</span>, whom -he appointed to give the word of command (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σημαίνειν</span>) -under him. The force thus arranged formed five <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στίχες</span> -or ranks, Il. xvi. 168-72: and here the private persons -are expressly called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑταῖροι</span> (ver. 170). Most probably -these <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγοὶ</span> of the Cretans, and these five Myrmidon -leaders, are to be considered as belonging to a class -below the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστῆες</span>, yet above the subalterns.</p> - -<p>Lastly, we have to notice the privates, so to speak, -of the Greek army, who are called by the several -names of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λαὸς</span> (Il. ii. 191. i. 54), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῆμος</span> (ii. 198), and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πληθὺς</span> -(ii. 278).</p> - -<p>In their military character they are indeed a mass of -atoms, undistinguishable from one another, but yet distinguished -by their silence and order, which was founded -probably on confidence in their leaders.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The descriptions of fighting men.</i></div> - -<p>No private or nameless<a name="FNanchor_182_182" id="FNanchor_182_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_182_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a> person of the Greek army, -however, on any occasion performs any feat, either great -or small: these are always achieved by the men of -birth and station: and the three designations we have -mentioned, the only ones which are used to designate -the whole mass of the soldiery, represent them to us as -a community bearing arms, rather than as an army in -any sense that is technical or professional.</p> - -<p>All these were entitled to attend the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, or Assembly, -if they pleased. And accordingly, on the first -Assembly that Achilles attended after renouncing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -wrath, we find that, from the great interest of the occasion, -even those persons were present who did not -usually appear: namely, the pilots of the ships, and -others who probably had charge of them while ashore, -together with those who managed the provisioning of -the force (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ταμίαι</span>), or, in our language, the commissariat -(Il. xix. 42-5).</p> - -<p>In their strictly military capacity they were, however, -divided into</p> - -<p>1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππῆες</span>, who fought in chariots, commonly (Il. -xxiii. 334-40) with two horses. When there were -three (xvi. 467-75), the outrunner was called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παρήορος</span>. -The chariot of Hector was drawn by four horses (viii. -185), but we have no such case among the Greeks. -Two persons went in each chariot; of whom the inferior -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠνίοχος</span>) drove, and the superior (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παρέβασκε</span>) stood -by him free to fight. But probably none of these <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππῆες</span> -were of the mere <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πληθὺς</span> of the army, or common -soldiery.</p> - -<p>2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀσπισταί</span>, the heavy-armed, of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σταδίη ὑσμίνη</span>. -These use the longer spear, the axe, the sword, or the -stone.</p> - -<p>3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀκοντίσται</span>, using the lighter spear (Il. xv. 709. -xxiii. 622. Od. xviii. 261).</p> - -<p>4. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοξόται</span> (Il. ii. 720. iii. 79).</p> - -<p>Again, the men are distinguished by epithets according -to merit; each being <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔξοχος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μεσήεις</span>, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χερειότερος</span> -(Il. xii. 269), or even <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κακός</span>; and with the last-named -the precaution is taken to place them in the midst of -their comrades.</p> - -<p>The policy of Nestor, which recommended the muster -of the whole army, with a view to stronger mutual -support among those who had peculiar ties, was entirely -in harmony with what we meet elsewhere in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -poems. For instance, in the defence of the rampart -in the Thirteenth Book, we find Bœotians, Athenians, -and Locrians<a name="FNanchor_183_183" id="FNanchor_183_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_183_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a>, who were neighbours, all mentioned as -fighting side by side.</p> - -<p>All ranks apparently went to the Assemblies as freemen, -and were treated there by their superiors with -respect. It was not those of the common sort in general, -but only such as were clamorous for the tumultuary -breaking up of the Assembly, that Ulysses went -so far as to hit (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐλάσασκε</span>) with the staff he bore, the -supreme sceptre of Agamemnon. In addressing them -he used the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δαιμόνιε</span>, the same word which he -employed to their superiors, the kings and chiefs (Il. ii. -190, 200). When they heard a speech that they approved -of, they habitually and immediately shouted in -applause<a name="FNanchor_184_184" id="FNanchor_184_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_184_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">Ἀργεῖοι δὲ μέγ’ ἴαχον ...</div> - <div class="verse">μῦθον ἐπαινήσαντες Ὀδυσσῆος θείοιο·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and they commented freely among themselves on what -occurred (Il. ii. 271 and elsewhere).</p> - -<p>The modes of warfare in the heroic age were very -simple: the open battle was a battle of main force, as regarded -both the chieftains and the men, relieved from -time to time by a sprinkling of panics. But besides -the battle, there was another and a more distinguished -mode of fighting: that of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λόχος</span> or ambuscade. -And the different estimate of the two, which reverses -the popular view, is eminently illustrative of the Greek -character.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λόχος</span> or ambuscade.</i></div> - -<p>In that epitome of human life, which Homer has -presented to us on the Shield of Achilles, martial operations -are of course included. The collective life of -man is represented by two cities, one for peace and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -other for war. Two armies appear beneath the walls -of the latter; and one of these takes its post in an -ambush<a name="FNanchor_185_185" id="FNanchor_185_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_185_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a>. Whenever persons were to be appointed out -of an army for this duty, the noblest and bravest were -chosen. Hence Achilles launches the double reproach -against Agamemnon, that he has never had spirit enough -to arm either with the soldiery at large for battle, or -with the chiefs and prime warriors for ambuscade<a name="FNanchor_186_186" id="FNanchor_186_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_186_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a>. -And the reason why the ambuscade stood thus high -as the duty and the privilege of the best, is explained -in an admirable speech of Idomeneus. It is simply -because it involves a higher trial, through the patience -it requires, of moral as opposed to animal courage.</p> - -<p>The Cretan leader supposes the case to have occurred, -when all the flower of the army are picked for -an ambush. ‘There,’ he says, ‘is the true criterion of -valour;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἔνθα μάλιστ’ ἀρετὴ διαείδεται ἀνδρῶν·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and there it soon appears who is the hero, and who the -coward; for the flesh of the poltroon turns to one -colour and another, nor can he settle his mind so as to -sit quiet, for his knees yield under him, and he shifts -from resting on one foot to resting on the other; his -heart is fluttering in his breast, and his teeth chatter, -as he gives himself up for lost: but the brave man, -from the moment when he takes his place in the ambush, -neither changes colour, nor is over nervous; but -only prays that the time may soon come for him to -mingle in the fearful fight<a name="FNanchor_187_187" id="FNanchor_187_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_187_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a>.’ Then he goes on to commend -Meriones as one suited for such a trial.</p> - -<p>In exact conformity with what we should expect -from these descriptions, it appears that Ulysses was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -the warrior who was preeminent in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λόχος</span>, while -Achilles towered so immeasurably above all others in -the field. When the Greeks were concealed in the -cavity of the Horse, and Helen came down from the -city imitating the voices of their wives, Menelaus and -Diomed were on the point of either going forth, or -answering; but Ulysses restrained them. One Anticlos -was still unwilling to be silent; and Ulysses, resolutely -gagging him with his hand, ‘saved the lives of all the -Achæans<a name="FNanchor_188_188" id="FNanchor_188_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_188_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a>.’ In all this we again see how the poems -of Homer are, like the Shield, an epitome of life. All -the points of capital and paramount excellence, for -which he could find no place in the hero of the one -poem, he has fully represented in the hero of the other; -and he has so exhausted, between the two, the resources -of our nature, and likewise its appliances as -they were then understood, that, had he produced yet -a third Epic, not even he could have furnished a -third protagonist to form its centre, who should have -been worthy to count with Achilles and Ulysses among -the undying ideals of human greatness.</p> - -<p>We have now considered the Greek community of -the heroic age, as it was divided in time of peace into -classes, and as in time of war it resolved all its more -potent and energetic elements into the form of a military -order.</p> - -<p>We have also examined the position and functions -of the king; who was at once a person, a class, and a -great political institution. It remains to consider two -other political institutions of heroic Greece, which not -only, with the king, made up the whole machinery both -of civil and military administration for that period, but -likewise supplied the essential germ, at least, of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -form of constitution, on which the best governments of -the continent of Europe have, two of them within the -last quarter of a century, been modelled, with such -deviations as experience has recommended, or the -change of times has required. I mean the form of -government by a threefold legislative body, having for -one of its members, and for its head, a single person, -in whose hands the executive power of the state is -lodged. This form has been eminently favoured in -Christendom, in Europe, and in England; and it has -even survived the passage of the Atlantic, and the transition, -in the United States of America, to institutions -which are not only republican, but highly democratic.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span> or Council.</i></div> - -<p>Of these two Greek institutions, we will examine -first the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, or Council.</p> - -<p>It was the usage of the Greeks to consider, in a small -preliminary meeting of principal persons, which was -called the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, of the measures to be taken in managing -the Assembly, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορή</span>.</p> - -<p>To the persons, who were summoned thither, the name -of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> appears to have been officially applied. It had -thus become dissociated from the idea of age, its original -signification: for Nestor was the only old man among -the Greek senators. Idomeneus, indeed, was near upon -old age: Ulysses was elderly (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὠμογέρων</span><a name="FNanchor_189_189" id="FNanchor_189_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_189_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a>), apparently -not under fifty. The majority would seem to have been -rather under middle life; so that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέρων</span> was, when thus -employed, a title, not a description. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> was -composed of the men of greatest rank and weight; and -no more required an advanced age among the qualifications -for it, than does the presbyterate of the Christian -Church, though it too signifies eldership.</p> - -<p>Before the great assembly of the Second Book, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -are told, not that Agamemnon thought it would be well, -as it were for the nonce, to consult the kings or seniors -of the expedition; but, in language which indicates a -fixed practice, that the choice of the place for the -meeting was on this occasion by the ship of Nestor, -whose great age possibly either made nearness convenient, -or entitled him to this mark of honour:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ δὲ πρῶτον μεγαθύμων ἷζε γερόντων</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νεστορέῃ παρὰ νηῒ Πυλαιγενέος βασιλῆος</span>. Il. ii. 53.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>These <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> were summoned<a name="FNanchor_190_190" id="FNanchor_190_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_190_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> again by Agamemnon -before the sacrifice of the Second Book, which preceded -the enumeration. On this occasion they are not -called a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλή</span>; probably because they were not called -for consultation.</p> - -<p>The Council meets again in the Ninth Book<a name="FNanchor_191_191" id="FNanchor_191_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_191_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a>, by appointment -of the Assembly, and sends the mission to -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_192_192" id="FNanchor_192_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_192_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a>. In the same night, and perhaps under the -same authority, the expedition of Ulysses and Diomed -is arranged.</p> - -<p>There is no <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> indeed in the First Book, and none -in the great Assembly of the Nineteenth: but then -both of these were summoned by Achilles, not by Agamemnon, -and neither of them were called for properly -deliberative purposes<a name="FNanchor_193_193" id="FNanchor_193_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_193_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a>.</p> - -<p>Again, Ulysses, in urging the Greeks not to quit the -assembly of the Second Book prematurely, reminds them -that they ought to know fully the views of Agamemnon, -and that they have not all had the advantage of -learning those views in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλή</span>.</p> - -<p>In the Seventh Book, the Council held under the -roof of Agamemnon forms the plan for a pause to bury -the dead, and erect the rampart. Accordingly, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -just afterwards a herald arrives with a proposal from -Troy, he finds the Greeks in their Assembly, doubtless an -Assembly held to sanction the project of the kings. -That this amounted to an institution of the Greeks, -we may further judge from the familiar manner, in -which Nestor mentions it in the Odyssey to Telemachus, -on seeing him for the first time, (Od. iii. 127). -‘Ulysses and I,’ he says, ‘never differed:’ <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὔτε ποτ’ εἰν -ἀγορῇ δίχ’ ἐβάζομεν, οὔτ’ ἐνὶ βουλῇ</span><a name="FNanchor_194_194" id="FNanchor_194_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_194_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a>.</p> - -<p>Among other causes, which might tend to promote -the establishment of the Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> or Council, we -may perhaps reckon with propriety the inability of the -old to discharge the full duties of sovereignty in the -heroic age. Bodily force usually undergoes a certain -amount of decay, before the mind has passed out of its -ripeness; and both kings and subordinate lords, who -had ceased to possess the strength that was requisite -for bearing the principal burdens of government, might -still make their experience available for the public good -in the Council; even as we find that in Troas the brothers -of Priam, with others advanced in life, were the -principal advisers of the Assembly<a name="FNanchor_195_195" id="FNanchor_195_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_195_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> in time of peace.</i></div> - -<p>I admit that we have no example to give of the use -of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> by the Greeks during peace, so precise as -those which the Iliad supplies for time of war. But -even in war we do not find it except before Assemblies, -which had deliberative business to transact. Now the -only deliberative Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> which we meet with in -time of peace is that of the Twenty-fourth Odyssey. -The absence of a sovereign and a government in Ithaca -at that time, and the utter discord of the principal persons, -made a Council quite impossible, and left no measure -open except a direct appeal to the people.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> - -<p>It appears however clear, that the action of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> -was not confined to war. For we not only find the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> on the Shield<a name="FNanchor_196_196" id="FNanchor_196_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_196_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a>, who sit in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, exercising -exclusively the office of judges, but they are also distinctly -noticed as a class or order<a name="FNanchor_197_197" id="FNanchor_197_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_197_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a> in the Ithacan Assembly, -who had a place in it set apart for themselves. Nor -are we without a proof which, though conveyed in few -words, is complete, of the conjunction of the Council -with the sovereign in acts of government. For when -Ulysses in his youth undertook the mission to Messene, -in the matter of the sheep that had been carried off -from Ithaca, he did it under the orders of Laertes, together -with his council<a name="FNanchor_198_198" id="FNanchor_198_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_198_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">πρὸ γὰρ ἧκε πατὴρ ἄλλοι τε γέροντες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And Nausicaa meets her father Alcinous, on his way -to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> of the Phæacians.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> seems to have been a -most important auxiliary instrument of government; -sometimes as preparing materials for the more public -deliberations of the Assembly, sometimes intrusted, as a -kind of executive committee, with its confidence; always -as supplying the Assemblies with an intellectual and authoritative -element, in a concentrated form, which might -give steadiness to its tone, and advise its course with a -weight adequate to so important a function.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Opposition in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλή</span>.</i></div> - -<p>The individuals who composed this Council were -of such a station that, when they acted separately, -King Agamemnon himself might have to encounter -resistance and reproof from them in various instances. -Accordingly, upon the occasion when Agamemnon -made a survey of the army, and when he thought fit -to rebuke Ulysses for slackness, that chieftain remon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>strated -with him something more than freely (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑποδρὰ -ἰδὼν</span>) both in voice and manner. So far from trusting -to his authority, Agamemnon made a soothing and -even an apologetic reply<a name="FNanchor_199_199" id="FNanchor_199_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_199_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a>. Again, when on the same -occasion he reproved Diomed<a name="FNanchor_200_200" id="FNanchor_200_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_200_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a>, Sthenelus defended his -immediate Chief in vainglorious terms. These the more -refined nature of Diomed himself induced him at once -to disclaim, but they do not appear to have been considered -as involving any thing in the nature of an -offence against the station of Agamemnon. Again, -though Diomed on this occasion restrained his lieutenant, -yet, when he meets Agamemnon in the Assembly -of the Ninth Book, he frankly tells him that Jupiter, -who has given him the honours of the sceptre, has not -endowed him with the superior power that springs -from determined courage<a name="FNanchor_201_201" id="FNanchor_201_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_201_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a>; and even the passionate invectives -of Achilles in the First Book bear a similar -testimony, because they do not appear to have been -treated as constituting any infringement of his duty.</p> - -<p>In the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span><a name="FNanchor_202_202" id="FNanchor_202_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_202_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a>, Nestor takes the lead more than Agamemnon. -As to the Assembly, the whole plan in the -Second Iliad is expressly founded upon the supposition, -that the army was accustomed to hear the chiefs -argue against, and even overthrow, the proposals of -Agamemnon. His advice that they should return -home, which Grote<a name="FNanchor_203_203" id="FNanchor_203_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_203_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a> considers only an unaccountable -fancy and a childish freak, is however capable of being -regarded in this view, that, before renewing active -operations without Achilles, it was thought wise to -test the feeling of the army, and that it could not be -more effectually tried than by a recommendation from -the commander-in-chief that they should re-embark for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -Greece. The plan was over-refined; and it may even -seem ridiculous, because it failed, and simply kindled an -ungovernable passion, which would not listen to debate. -But the proposal does not bear that character in the -Ninth Book, where the same suggestion is renewed, -without the previous knowledge of the chiefs, in the -same words, and at a time when the Greeks were in far -worse condition.</p> - -<p>When Agamemnon made it in order to be overruled -it took effect: when he made it in good earnest, -it failed. If then the Greeks could be retained contrary -to his wish in the Ninth Book, it might be misjudged, -but could hardly be absurd, to expect a similar -result in the Second, when they had less cause for discouragement.</p> - -<p>And why did it take effect? Simply because the Assembly, -instead of being the simple medium<a name="FNanchor_204_204" id="FNanchor_204_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_204_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a> through -which the king acted, was the arena on which either -the will of the people might find a rude and tumultuary -vent, or, on the other hand, his royal companions in -arms could say, as Diomed says, ‘I will use my right -and resist your foolish project in debate; which you -ought not to resent.’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ἀτρείδη, σοὶ πρῶτα μαχήσομαι ἀφραδέοντι,</div> - <div class="verse">ἣ θέμις ἐστὶν, ἄναξ, ἀγορῇ· σὺ δὲ μή τι χολωθῇς.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The proposal of Agamemnon had been heard in -silence<a name="FNanchor_205_205" id="FNanchor_205_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_205_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a>, the mode by which the army indicated its -disinclination or its doubt. But the counter proposal -of Diomed, to fight to the last, was hailed with acclamation<a name="FNanchor_206_206" id="FNanchor_206_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_206_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">οἱ δ’ ἄρα πάντες ἐπίαχον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν,</div> - <div class="verse">μῦθον ἀγασσάμενοι Διομήδεος ἱπποδάμοιο·</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> -<p>so that the Assembly was then ripe for the plan of -Nestor, which at once received its approval<a name="FNanchor_207_207" id="FNanchor_207_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_207_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς ἔφαθ’· οἱ δ’ ἄρα τοῦ μάλα μὲν κλύον, ἠδ’ ἐπίθοντο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Subsequently, in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> of the same Book, Nestor -tells Agamemnon that it is his duty to listen as well as -to speak, and to adopt the plans of others when they are -good (100-2). At the same time, the aged chieftain -appears to submit himself to the judgment of Agamemnon -in the Council<a name="FNanchor_208_208" id="FNanchor_208_208"></a><a href="#Footnote_208_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a>. His expressions are perhaps matter -more of compliment than of business; and at any rate -we do not find any like terms used in the Assembly.</p> - -<p>It was a happy characteristic of heroic Greece, that -while she abounded in true shame, she had no false -shame. It was not thought that a king, who had done -wrong, compromised his dignity by atonement; but, on -the contrary, that he recovered it. So says Ulysses, in -the Assembly of the Nineteenth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_209_209" id="FNanchor_209_209"></a><a href="#Footnote_209_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">οὐ μὲν γάρ τι νεμεσσητὸν βασιλῆα</div> - <div class="verse">ἄνδρ’ ἀπαρέσσασθαι, ὅτε τις πρότερος χαλεπήνῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This passage at once establishes in the most pointed -manner both the right to chide the head of the army, -and the obligation incumbent on him, as on others, where -he had given offence to make amends.</p> - -<p>Thus then a large liberty of speech and judgment on -the part of the kings or chiefs, when they differed from -Agamemnon, would appear to be established beyond -dispute, a liberty which in certain cases resulted in his -being summarily overruled. I cannot therefore here -subscribe even to the measured statement of Mure, who, -admits the liberty of remonstrance, but asserts also the -sovereignty of the will of Agamemnon. Much less to -the very broad assertions of Grote, that the resolutions -of Agamemnon appear uniformly to prevail in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -Council, and that the nullity of positive function is -still more striking in the Agorè<a name="FNanchor_210_210" id="FNanchor_210_210"></a><a href="#Footnote_210_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a>.</p> - -<p>To that institution it is now time for us to turn.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Influence of Speech.</i></div> - -<p>The trait which is truly most worthy of note in -the polities of Homeric Greece, is also that which is so -peculiar to them; namely, the substantive weight and -influence which belonged to speech as an instrument -of government; and of this power by much the most -remarkable development is in its less confined and -more popular application to the Assembly.</p> - -<p>This power of speech was essentially a power to -be exercised over numbers, and with the safeguards of -publicity, by man among his fellow-men. It was also -essentially an instrument addressing itself to reason -and free will, and acknowledging their authority. -No government which sought its power in force, as -opposed to reason, has at any time used this form of -deception. The world has seen absolutism deck itself -with the titles and mere forms of freedom, or seek shelter -under its naked abstractions: but from the exercise of -free speech as an instrument of state, it has always -shrunk with an instinctive horror.</p> - -<p>One mode of proving the power of speech in the -heroic age is, by showing what place it occupied in the -thoughts of men, as they are to be gathered from their -language. Another mode is, by pointing to its connection, -in practical examples, with this or that course -of action, adopted or shunned. A third is, by giving -evidence of the earnestness with which the art was -prosecuted, and the depth and comprehensiveness of -the conceptions from which it derived its form.</p> - -<p>We shall presently trace the course of public affairs, -as they were managed by the Greeks of the heroic age<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -in their public assemblies. For the present, let us -endeavour to collect the true sense of Homer respecting -oratory from his language concerning it, from the -characters with whom he has particularly connected it, -and from the knowledge which he may be found to -have possessed of its resources.</p> - -<p>Although it is common to regard the Iliad as a poem -having battle for its theme, yet it is in truth not less a -monument of policy than of war; and in this respect it -is even more broadly distinguished, than in most others, -from later epics.</p> - -<p>The adjectives in Homer are in very many cases the -key to his inner mind: and among them all there is -none of which this is more true, than the grand epithet -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυδιάνειρα</span>. He confines it strictly to two subjects, -battle and debate, the clash of swords and the wrestling -of minds. Of Achilles, he says in the First Book<a name="FNanchor_211_211" id="FNanchor_211_211"></a><a href="#Footnote_211_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a>, (490)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὔτε ποτ’ εἰς ἀγορὴν πωλέσκετο κυδιάνειραν,</div> - <div class="verse">οὔτε ποτ’ ἐς πόλεμον.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In every other passage where he employs the word, it -is attached to the substantive <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάχη</span>. Thus with him -it was in two fields, that man was to seek for glory; -partly in the fight, and partly in the Assembly.</p> - -<p>The intellectual function was no less essential to the -warrior-king of Homer, than was the martial; and the -culture of the art of persuasion entered no less deeply -into his early training. How, says Phœnix to Achilles, -shall I leave you, I, whom your father attached to you -when you were a mere child, without knowledge of the -evenhanded battle, or of the assemblies, in which men -attain to fame,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">οὔπω εἰδόθ’ ὁμοιΐου πολέμοιο</div> - <div class="verse">οὐτ’ ἀγορέων, ἵνα τ’ ἄνδρες ἀριπρέπεες τελέθουσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> -<p>So he sent me to teach you the arts both of speech -and fight<a name="FNanchor_212_212" id="FNanchor_212_212"></a><a href="#Footnote_212_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">μύθων τε ῥητῆρ’ ἔμεναι, πρηκτῆρά τε ἔργων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Even so Ulysses, in the under-world, relates to -Achilles the greatness of Neoptolemus in speech, not -less than in battle, (Od. xi. 510-16.)</p> - -<p>Nay, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of little Ithaca, where there had been -no Assembly for twenty years, is with Homer the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ πολύφημος</span><a name="FNanchor_213_213" id="FNanchor_213_213"></a><a href="#Footnote_213_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a>. In a description, if possible yet -more striking than that of Phœnix, Homer places before -us the orator at his work. ‘His hearers behold -him with delight; he speaks with tempered modesty, -yet with confidence in himself (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀσφαλέως</span>); he stands -preeminent among the assembled people, and while he -passes through the city, they gaze on him as on a god<a name="FNanchor_214_214" id="FNanchor_214_214"></a><a href="#Footnote_214_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a>. -From a passage like this we may form some idea, what a -real power in human society was the orator of the heroic -age; and we may also learn how and why it was, -that the great Bard of that time has also placed himself -in the foremost rank of oratory for all time.</p> - -<p>It is in the very same spirit that Ulysses, in the same -most remarkable speech given in the Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_215_215" id="FNanchor_215_215"></a><a href="#Footnote_215_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a>, sets -forth the different accomplishments by which human -nature is adorned. The three great gifts of the gods to -man are, first, corporeal beauty, strength and bearing, -all included in the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φύη</span>; secondly, judgment or -good sense (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φρένες</span>), and thirdly, the power of discourse, -or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορητύς</span>. To one man, the great gift last named is -the compensation for the want of corporeal excellence. -To another is given beauty like that of the Immortals; -but then his comeliness is not crowned by eloquence: -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀλλ’ οὔ οἱ χάρις ἀμφιπεριστέφεται ἐπέεσσιν</span>. For <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάρις</span> -in Od. xi. 367 we have <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μορφὴ ἐπέων</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>Varied descriptions of Oratory.</i></div> - -<p>In full conformity with this strongly developed idea, -the Poet places before us the descriptions of a variety of -speakers. There is Thersites<a name="FNanchor_216_216" id="FNanchor_216_216"></a><a href="#Footnote_216_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a>, copious and offensive, to -whom we must return. There is Telemachus, full of -the gracious diffidence of youth<a name="FNanchor_217_217" id="FNanchor_217_217"></a><a href="#Footnote_217_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a>, but commended by -Nestor for a power and a tact of expression beyond his -years. There is Menelaus, who speaks with a laconic -ease<a name="FNanchor_218_218" id="FNanchor_218_218"></a><a href="#Footnote_218_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a>. There are the Trojan elders, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span>, -who from their experience and age chiefly guide the Assembly, -and whose volubility and shrill small thread of -voice<a name="FNanchor_219_219" id="FNanchor_219_219"></a><a href="#Footnote_219_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> Homer compares to the chirping of grasshoppers. -Then we have Nestor the soft and silvery, whose -tones of happy and benevolent egotism flowed sweeter -than a stream of honey<a name="FNanchor_220_220" id="FNanchor_220_220"></a><a href="#Footnote_220_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a>. In the hands of an inferior -artist, Phœnix must have reproduced him; but an absorbing -affection for Achilles is the key-note to all he -says; even the account in his speech of his own early -adventures is evidently meant as a warning on the effects -of rage: this intense earnestness completely prevents -any thing like sameness, and thus the two garrulities -stand perfectly distinct from one another, because -they have (so to speak) different centres of gravity. -Lastly, we have Ulysses, who, wont to rise with his -energies concentrated within him, gives no promise of -display: but when his deep voice issues from his chest, -and his mighty words drive like the flakes of snow in -winter<a name="FNanchor_221_221" id="FNanchor_221_221"></a><a href="#Footnote_221_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a>, then indeed he soars away far above all competitors.</p> - -<p>It is very unusual for Homer to indulge thus largely -in careful and detailed description. And even here he -has left the one superlative, as well as other considerable, -orators, undescribed. The eloquence of Achilles is left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -to describe itself; and to challenge comparison with -all the choicest patterns both of power and beauty in -this kind, that three thousand years since Homer, and -all their ebbing and flowing tides, have brought within -the knowledge of man. Although he modestly describes -himself as beneath Ulysses in this accomplishment, yet -in truth no speeches come near to his. But Homer’s -resources are not even now exhausted. The decision of -Diomed, the irresolution of Agamemnon, the bluntness -of Ajax, are all admirably marked in the series of -speeches allotted to each. Indeed Homer has put into -the mouth of Idomeneus, whom he nowhere describes as -an orator at all, a speech which is quite enough to establish -his reputation in that capacity. (Il. xiii. 275-94.)</p> - -<p>In reviewing the arrangements Homer has made, we -shall find one feature alike unequivocal and decisive. -The two persons, to whom he has given supremacy in -oratory, are his two, his only two godlike heroes (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεῖοι</span>), -the Achilles and the Ulysses, each of whom bears up, -like the Atlas of tradition, the weight of the epic to -which he principally belongs.</p> - -<p>How could Homer have conceived thoughts like these, -if government in his eyes had rested upon either force or -fraud? Moreover, when he speaks of persuasion and of -strength or valour, of the action of the tongue and that -of the hand, he clearly does not mean that these elements -are mixed in the ordinary conduct of a sovereign -to his subjects: he means the first for peace, the latter -for war; the first to be his sole instrument for governing -his own people, the latter for their enemies alone.</p> - -<p>If, again, we endeavour to estimate the importance -of Speech in the heroic age by the degree in which the -faculty was actually cultivated, we must take the -achievements of the Poet as the best indicators of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -capacities of the age. The speeches which Homer has -put into the mouths of his leading orators should be -tolerably fair representatives of the best performances -of the time. Nor is it possible that in any age there -should be in a few a capacity for making such speeches, -without a capacity in many for receiving, feeling, and -comprehending them. Poets of modern times have -composed great works, in ages that stopped their ears -against them. ‘Paradise Lost’ does not represent the -time of Charles the Second, nor the ‘Excursion’ the first -decades of the present century. The case of the orator -is entirely different. His work, from its very inception, -is inextricably mixed up with practice. It is cast in the -mould offered to him by the mind of his hearers. It is -an influence principally received from his audience (so to -speak) in vapour, which he pours back upon them in -a flood. The sympathy and concurrence of his time is -with his own mind joint parent of his work. He cannot -follow nor frame ideals; his choice is, to be what his -age will have him, what it requires in order to be -moved by him, or else not to be at all. And as when -we find the speeches in Homer, we know that there -must have been men who could speak them, so, from -the existence of units who could speak them, we know -that there must have been crowds who could feel them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The orations of the Poems.</i></div> - -<p>Now if we examine those orations, we shall, I think, -find not only that they contain specimens of transcendent -eloquence which have never been surpassed, -but likewise that they evince the most comprehensive -knowledge, and the most varied and elastic use, of all -the resources of the art. If we seek a specimen of invective, -let us take the speeches of Achilles in the -debate of the First Iliad. If it is the loftiest tone of -terrible declamation that we desire, I know not where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -(to speak with moderation) we can find any thing that -in grandeur can surpass the passage (Il. xvi. 74-9) -beginning,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐ γὰρ Τυδειδέω Διομήδεος ἐν παλάμῃσιν</div> - <div class="verse">μαίνεται ἐγχείη, κ. τ. λ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But if it is solemnity that is sought, nothing can, I think, -excel the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ναὶ μὰ τόδε σκῆπτρον</span>. (Il. i. 233-44.)</p> - -<p>What more admirable example of comprehensive -statement, which exhausts the case, and absolutely -shuts up the mouth of the adversary, than in the speech -of Ulysses to Euryalus, who has reproached him with -looking like a sharper? That speech consists of twenty -lines: and I think any one who attempts to give a -really accurate summary of it will be apt to find that -his epitome, if it be at all complete, has become unawares -a paraphrase. Nor is Homer less successful in -showing us, how he has sounded the depths of pathos. -For though the speeches of Priam to Achilles in the -Twenty-fourth Iliad are spoken privately, and from -man to man only, and are therefore not in the nature -of oratory properly so called, they are conclusive, <i>a -fortiori</i>, as to his knowledge of the instruments by -which the human affections might be moved so much -more easily, when the speaker would be assisted at -once by the friendliness and by the electric sympathies -of a multitude.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Repartee and Sarcasm.</i></div> - -<p>All these are direct instruments of influence on the -mind and actions of man. But of assaults in flank -Homer is quite as great a master. He shows a peculiar -genius for that which is properly called repartee; -for that form of speech, which flings back upon the opponent -the stroke of his own weapon, or on the supplicant -the plea of his own prayer. There was one Antimachus, -a Trojan, who had grown wealthy, probably by the bribes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -which he received from Paris in consideration of his -always opposing, in the Trojan Agorè, the restoration of -Helen to the Greeks. His sons are mastered by Agamemnon -in the field. Aware that he had a thirst for -money, they cry, ‘Quarter, Agamemnon! we are the -sons of rich Antimachus: <i>he</i> will pay well for our -lives.’ ‘If,’ replies the king, ‘you are the sons of that -Antimachus, who, when Menelaus came as envoy to -Troy, advised to take and slay him, here and now shall -ye expiate your father’s infamy<a name="FNanchor_222_222" id="FNanchor_222_222"></a><a href="#Footnote_222_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a>.’ Compare with this -the yet sharper turn of Ulysses on Leiodes in the -Odyssey: ‘Spare me, Ulysses! I have done no ill in -your halls; I stopped what ill I could; I was but -Augur to the Suitors.’ Then follows the stern reply. -‘If thou dost avow that thou art Augur to the Suitors, -then often in prayer must thou have augured my destruction, -and desired my wife for thine own; wherefore -thou shalt not escape the painsome bed of death<a name="FNanchor_223_223" id="FNanchor_223_223"></a><a href="#Footnote_223_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a>.’</p> - -<p>But the weapons of sarcasm, from the lightest to the -weightiest, are wielded by Homer with almost greater -effect than any others. As a sample of the former, -I take the speech of Phœnix when he introduces, by -way of parable, the Legend of Meleager. ‘As long as -Meleager fought, all was well; but when rage took -possession of him—which (I would just observe) now -and then bewilders other great minds also—then,’ and -so onward.</p> - -<p>But for the great master of this art, Homer has chosen -Achilles. As with his invectives he grinds to powder, -so with the razor edge of the most refined irony he -cuts his way in a moment to the quick. When Greece, -in the person of the envoy-kings, is at his feet, and he -has spurned them away, he says, ‘No: I will go home:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -you can come and see me depart—if you think it worth -your while.’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὄψεαι, ἢν ἐθέλῃσθα, καὶ αἴ κέν τοι τὰ μεμήλῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Of this passage, Il. ix. 356-64, the following translation -may give a very imperfect idea<a name="FNanchor_224_224" id="FNanchor_224_224"></a><a href="#Footnote_224_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Of fight with Hector will I none;</div> - <div class="verse">Tomorrow, with the rising sun,</div> - <div class="verse">Each holy rite and office done,</div> - <div class="verse">I load and launch my Phthian fleet;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Come, if thou thinkest meet,</div> - <div class="verse">See, if thou carest for the sight,</div> - <div class="verse">My ships shall bound in the morning’s light,</div> - <div class="verse">My rowers row with eager might,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">O’er Helle’s teeming main.</div> - <div class="verse">And, if Poseidon give his grace,</div> - <div class="verse">Then, with but three revolving days,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">I see my home again;</div> - <div class="verse">My home of plenty, that I left</div> - <div class="verse">To fight with Troy; of sense bereft!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The plenty of his house (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔστι δέ μοι μάλα πολλὰ</span>) is the -finishing stroke of reply on Agamemnon, who had -thought that his resentment, unsatisfied in feeling, -could be appeased with gifts.</p> - -<p>In the same speech occurs the piercing sarcasm<a name="FNanchor_225_225" id="FNanchor_225_225"></a><a href="#Footnote_225_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἦ μοῦνοι φιλέουσ’ ἀλόχους μερόπων ἀνθρώπων</div> - <div class="verse">Ἀτρεῖδαι;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Greeks had come to Troy to recover the wife of -Menelaus: and while they were there, Agamemnon -took for a concubine the intended wife of Achilles. -Was it, he asks, the privilege of the sons of Atreus -alone among mankind to love their wives? Agamemnon, -too, being the chief of the two; who had laid hold -on Briseis, as he had meant to keep Chryseis, in disparagement -of his own marriage bed. Nor can the -reader of this passage fail, I think, to be struck with -the wonderful manner in which it combines a stately -dignity, and an unimpeachable solidity of argument, -with the fierceness of its personal onslaught.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The faculty of debate in Homer.</i></div> - - -<div>If the power of oratory is remarkable in Homer, so -likewise is the faculty of what in England is called debate. -Here the orator is a wrestler, holding his ground from -moment to moment; adjusting his poise, and delivering -his force, in exact proportion to the varying pressure -of his antagonist. In Homer’s debates, every -speech after the first is commonly a reply. It belongs -not only to the subject, but to the speech that went -before: it exhibits, given the question and the aims of -the speaker, the exact degree of ascent or descent, of -expansion or contraction, of relaxation or enhancement, -which the circumstances of the case, in the state up to -which they were brought by the preceding address, may -require. In the Assembly of the First Book, five, nay, -six, successive speeches of Achilles and Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_226_226" id="FNanchor_226_226"></a><a href="#Footnote_226_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> -bring their great contention to its climax. But the -discussion with the Envoys deserves very particular notice. -<div class="sidenote"><i>The discussion of the Ninth Iliad.</i></div> - -Ulysses begins a skilled harangue to the offended -hero with a most artful and well-masked exaggeration -of the martial fury of Hector. He takes care only to -present it as part of a general picture, which in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -parts is true enough; but he obviously relies upon it as -a mode of getting within the guard of Achilles. He next -touches him upon the point, to which Priam afterwards -made a yet higher appeal; the tender recollection of his -father Peleus, who had warned him how much more -arduous was the acquisition of self-command, than that -of daring. He then recites the gifts of Agamemnon: -and, encouraged perhaps by the kind greeting that, -with his companions, he had received, he closes by urging -that, however hateful Agamemnon may be, yet, in pity -for the other Greeks, both high and low, and in anticipation -of their gratitude, he ought to arm. I shall not -attempt to analyse the wonderful speech of Achilles -which follows, and to which some references have -already been made. Suffice it to say, that it commences -with an intimation to Ulysses that it will, in -the opinion of the speaker, be best for all parties if he -tells out his mind plainly: an indirect and courteous -reproof to Ulysses for having thought to act upon him -by tact and by the processes of a rhetorician. After this -follows such a combination of argument, declamation, -invective, and sarcasm as, within the same compass, I -do not believe all the records of the world can match. -But the general result of the whole is the announcement -that he will return to Phthia the very next -morning; together with an absolute, unconditional rejection -of all gifts and proffers, until the outrage of -Agamemnon is entirely wiped away<a name="FNanchor_227_227" id="FNanchor_227_227"></a><a href="#Footnote_227_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a>:</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">πρίν γ’ ἀπὸ πᾶσαν ἐμοὶ δόμεναι θυμαλγέα λώβην.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>When he has concluded, all his hearers, abashed by his -masculine wrath, are silent for a while. Then Phœnix, in -the longest speech of the poem, pours forth his unselfish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -and warm, but prolix and digressive affection. This -speech displays far less of rhetorical resource, than that -of Ulysses. Ulysses had conceded, as it were, the -right of Achilles to an unbounded resentment against -Agamemnon (300): Phœnix, on the contrary, by -parable, menaces him with retribution from the Erinūs, -unless he shall subdue the mighty soul within him. -But Achilles, touched in his better nature, gives way a -little to the more ethical appeal, where he had been -inflexible and invulnerable before the intellectual and -rhetorical address. He now bids Phœnix come himself, -and sleep in his encampment: there they can consider -together, in the morning, whether to go or to stay (618). -Still he announces, that nothing will induce him to -quit the ships for the field (609). Next comes blunt -Ajax into the <i>palæstra</i>; deprecates the wasting of -time; is for taking back the answer, bad as it may be: -Achilles has evidently made up his mind; and cares -not a rush for all or any of them. ‘What,’ says the -simple man-mountain, ‘the homicide of a brother or -child is atoned for by a fine, and yet here is all this -to-do about a girl. Aye, and a single girl; when we -offer seven of the very best, and ever so much besides.’ -Having thus reached the <i>acmè</i> of his arts, he now aims -at the friendly feeling of Achilles, and in a single word -bids him be placable to men whom he has admitted -beneath his roof, and whom he owns for as loyal friends -as the whole army could find him.</p> - -<p>The leverage of this straightforward speech, which is -only saved by kindliness from falling into rudeness, -again produces an initial movement towards concession -on the part of the great hero. He replies in effect to -Ajax, ‘You have spoken well: I like your way of going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -to work: but my heart swells and boils with the shame -inflicted on me before the Greeks by Agamemnon. -Tell them then’—there is now no announcement of -setting sail; nay, there is no longer any need for debate -in the morning whether to set sail or not—‘tell -them that I fight no more, till Hector, carrying -slaughter and fire, shall reach this camp, these ships. -Keen as he may be, it will then be time enough for -ME to stay his onward path.’</p> - -<p>Such is the remarkable course of this debate. But -Ulysses, when they return to Agamemnon—meaning -probably to bring him and all the Greeks fairly to bay—takes -no notice of the partial relaxations of the iron -will of Achilles, but simply reports that he has threatened -to set sail. Then comes the turn of Diomed. -‘You were wrong to cringe to him. Of himself, he is -arrogant enough: you have made him worse. Let -him alone; he will come when he thinks proper, or -when Providence wills it; and no sooner. My advice -is that we sleep and eat now, and fight at dawn. I, -at any rate, will be there, in the foremost of the -battle.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Function of the Assembly.</i></div> - -<p>We will now proceed to consider the nature and -place of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> or Assembly, in the heroic age: -and a view of the proceedings on several occasions will -further illustrate the great and diversified oratorical resources -of the Poet.</p> - -<p>A people cannot live in its corporate capacity without -intermission, and the king is the standing representative -of the community. But yet the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, or -Assembly, is the true centre of its life and its vital motion, -as the monarch is of its functional or administrative -activity; and the greatest ultimate power, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -the king possesses, is that of influence upon his subjects -collected there, through the combined medium of their -reverence for his person, and of his own powers of persuasion. -In the case of the army before Troy, to the strength -of these ordinary motives is added, along with a certain -spirit of resentment for injury received in the person -of Helen, the hope of a rich booty on the capture of the -city, and the principle of pure military honour; never -perhaps more powerfully drawn than in the Iliad, nor -with greater freedom from extravagances, by which it -is sometimes made to ride over the heads of duty and -justice, its only lawful superiors.</p> - -<p>First, it would appear to have belonged to the Assembly, -not indeed to distribute the spoil, but to consent -to its distribution by the chief commander, and his -brother-leaders. To the former it is imputed in the -Ninth Book. But in the First Book Achilles says to -him in the Assembly, We the Greeks (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀχαιοὶ</span>) will requite -you three and four-fold, when Troy is taken<a name="FNanchor_228_228" id="FNanchor_228_228"></a><a href="#Footnote_228_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a>. It -is probable that he here means to speak of the chiefs -alone, (but only so far as the act of distribution is concerned,) -because Thersites uses the very same expression -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἅς τοι Ἀχαιοὶ πρωτίστῳ δίδομεν</span><a name="FNanchor_229_229" id="FNanchor_229_229"></a><a href="#Footnote_229_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a>) in the Second -Book. Therefore the division of booty was probably -made on the king’s proposal, with the aid of the chiefs, -but with the general knowledge and consent of the -army, and in right of that consent on their part.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered all along, that the state of -political society, which Homer represents to us, is that -in which the different elements of power wear their -original and natural forms; neither much altered as -yet by the elaborate contrivances of man, nor driven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -into their several extremes by the consequences of -long strife, greedy appetite, and furious passions, excited -by the temptations which the accumulation of -property presents.</p> - -<p>In those simple times, when the functions of government -were few, and its acts, except perhaps the trial -of private causes, far between, there was no formal distribution -of political rights, as if they could be made -the object of ambitious or contentious cupidity: but -the grand social power that moved the machine was in -the determinations of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, however informally -declared.</p> - -<p>Grote has observed, that in the Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> no -division of affirmative and negative voices ever takes -place. It would require a volume to discuss all that -this remark involves and indicates. I will however -observe that the principle surely cannot be made good -from history or in philosophy, that numbers prevail by -an inherent right. Decision by majorities is as much -an expedient, as lighting by gas. In adopting it as a -rule, we are not realizing perfection, but bowing to -imperfection. We follow it as best for us, not as best -in itself. The only <i>right</i> to command, as Burke has -said, resides in wisdom and virtue. In their application -to human affairs, these great powers have commonly -been qualified, on the one hand by tradition and -prepossession, on the other hand by force. Decision by -majorities has the great merit of avoiding, and that by -a test perfectly definite, the last resort to violence; and -of making force itself the servant instead of the master -of authority. But our country still rejoices in the belief, -that she does not decide all things by majorities. -The first Greeks neither knew the use of this numerical -dogma, nor the abuse of it. They did not employ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -it as an instrument, and in that they lost: but they -did not worship it as an idol, and in that they greatly -gained. Votes were not polled in the Olympus of -Homer; yet a minority of influential gods carry the -day in favour of the Greeks against the majority, and -against their Head. There surely could not be a grosser -error than to deny every power to be a real one, unless -we are able both to measure its results in a table of -statistics, and to trace at every step, with our weak and -partial vision, the precise mode by which it works towards -its end.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Great decisions all taken there.</i></div> - -<p>We have seen, in the first place, that all the great -decisions of the War were taken in the Assembly of -the Greeks. And here the first reflection that arises -is, how deeply this method of political action must -have been engrained in their habits and ideas, when it -could survive the transition from peace to war, and, -notwithstanding its palpable inconveniences in a camp, -form the practical rule of its proceedings under the eye -of the enemy.</p> - -<p>The force of this consideration is raised to the utmost -height by the case of the Night Assembly in the Ninth -Book. The Trojans, no longer confined to their walls, -are lying beside a thousand watch-fires, just outside -the rampart. Some important measure is absolutely -demanded on the instant by the downcast condition of -the less than half-beaten, but still thoroughly discouraged -army. Yet not even under these circumstances -would Agamemnon act individually, or with the kings -alone. He sends his heralds round the camp (Il. ix. 11),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">κλήδην εἰς ἀγορὴν κικλήσκειν ἄνδρα ἕκαστον,</div> - <div class="verse">μηδὲ βοᾶν·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>to summon an Assembly noiselessly, and man by man. -Can there be a more conclusive proof of the vigour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -with which the popular principle entered into the idea -of the Homeric polities? If it be said that such an -operation could hardly be effected at night without -stir, I reply that if it be so, the argument for the -power and vitality of the Assembly is but strengthened: -for Homer was evidently far more careful to -speak in harmony with the political tone of his country -than to measure out time by the hour and minute, -or place by the yard, foot, and inch; as valuing not the -latter methods less, but the former more.</p> - -<p>The Greek army, in fact, is neither more nor less -than, so to speak, the State in uniform. As the soldier -of those days was simply the citizen armed, so the -armament was the aggregate of armed citizens, who, in -all except their arms and the handling of them, continued -to be what they had been before. But when -we find that in such great emergencies political ideas -did not give way to military expediency, we cannot, I -think, but conclude that those ideas rested on broad -and deep foundations.</p> - -<p>It further tends to show the free nature of the relation -between the Assembly and the Commander-in-chief, -that it might be summoned by others, as well as -by him. We are told explicitly in the First Book, that -Achilles called it together, as he did again in the -Nineteenth for the Reconciliation. On the second of -these occasions, it may have been his purpose that the -reparation should be as public as had been the insult: -at any rate there was a determination to make the reconciliation -final, absolute, and thorough. But, at the -former time, the act partook of the nature of a moral -appeal from Agamemnon to the army. It illustrated, -in the first place, the principle of publicity so prevalent -in the Greek polities. That which Calchas had to de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>clare, -he must declare not in a ‘hole and corner,’ but -on his responsibility, liable to challenge, subject to the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δήμου φάτις</span> if he told less than the truth, as well as to -the resentment of the sovereign if he should venture -on divulging it entire. But secondly, it shows that -Achilles held the Greeks at large entitled and bound -to be parties to the transaction. He meant that the -Greeks should see his wrong. Perhaps he hoped that -they would intercept its infliction. This at any rate is -clear: he commenced the debate with measured reproofs -of Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_230_230" id="FNanchor_230_230"></a><a href="#Footnote_230_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a>; but afterwards he rose, with -a wider scope, to a more intense and a bitterer strain<a name="FNanchor_231_231" id="FNanchor_231_231"></a><a href="#Footnote_231_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a>.</p> - -<p>When he found that the monarch was determined, -and when he had repressed the access of rage which -tempted him to summary revenge, he began to use -language not now of mere invective against Agamemnon, -but of such invective as tended to set him at -odds with the people. Then further on, perhaps because -they did not echo back his sentiments, and become -active parties to the terrible fray, he both taunts -and threatens them. For he begins<a name="FNanchor_232_232" id="FNanchor_232_232"></a><a href="#Footnote_232_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a>, ‘Coward that -thou art! Never hast thou dared to arm with -the people for the fight, or with the leaders for the -ambush.’ And then<a name="FNanchor_233_233" id="FNanchor_233_233"></a><a href="#Footnote_233_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a>. ‘Devourer of the people! over -what nobodies thou rulest! or surely this would be the -last of your misdeeds.’ Again, in the peroration<a name="FNanchor_234_234" id="FNanchor_234_234"></a><a href="#Footnote_234_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a>, ‘By -this mighty oath, every man among you shall lament -the absence of Achilles.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Opposition in the Agorè.</i></div> - -<p>It has often been asserted that the principle of -popular opposition in debate is only represented by -Thersites. But let us proceed step by step. It is at -any rate clear enough that opposition by the con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>federate -kings is at once sufficiently represented in -Achilles; and that it is not represented by him alone, -since in the Assembly of the Ninth Book, Diomed -both strongly reprehended Agamemnon, and proposes -a course diametrically the reverse of his; which -course was forthwith adopted by the acclamations of -the army.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The case of Thersites.</i></div> - -<p>Let us now pass on to Thersites. There is no more -singular picture in the Iliad, than that which he presents -to us. It well deserves examination in detail.</p> - -<p>Homer has evidently been at pains to concentrate -upon this personage all that could make him odious to -the hearers of his song, while nevertheless he puts into -his mouth not only the cant of patriotism, but also a -case that would perhaps have been popular, had he not -averted the favour of the army by his insolent vulgarity.</p> - -<p>Upon its merits, too, it was a tolerable case, but not -a good one; for he was wrong in supposing Achilles -placable; and again wrong in advising that the Greeks, -now without Achilles, should give way before the Trojans, -to whom they were still superior in war.</p> - -<p>He is in all things the reverse of the great human -ideals of Homer. As, in the pattern kings and heroes, -moral, intellectual, and corporeal excellences, each in -the highest degree, must be combined, so Thersites -presents a corresponding complication of deformities to -view. As to the first, he is the most infamous person -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴσχιστος</span>) in the army; and he relies for his influence, -not on the sense and honour of the soldiers, but on a -vein of gross buffoonery; which he displays in the only -coarse allusion that is to be found in all the speeches -of the poems. As to the second head, his voluble -speech is as void of order as of decency<a name="FNanchor_235_235" id="FNanchor_235_235"></a><a href="#Footnote_235_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a>. As to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -third, he is lame, bandy-legged<a name="FNanchor_236_236" id="FNanchor_236_236"></a><a href="#Footnote_236_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a>, hump-backed, round-shouldered, -peak-headed, and lastly, (among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καρηκομόωντες</span>,) -he is bald, or indeed worse, for on his -head a hair is planted here and there<a name="FNanchor_237_237" id="FNanchor_237_237"></a><a href="#Footnote_237_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a>. Lastly, hateful -to all<a name="FNanchor_238_238" id="FNanchor_238_238"></a><a href="#Footnote_238_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a>, he is most of all hateful to, as well as -spiteful against, the two paramount heroes of the -poems, Achilles and Ulysses: an observation inserted -with equal ingenuity and significance, because Homer, -by inserting it, effectually cuts off any favour which -Thersites might otherwise have gained with his hearers -from seeming to take the side of the wronged Achilles. -It is also worthy of note, as indicating how Homer felt the -strength of that bond which unites together all great -excellences of whatever kind. Upon a slight and exterior -view, the two great characters of Achilles and -Ulysses appear antagonistic, and we might expect -to find their likes and dislikes running in opposite -directions. But as, in the Ninth Book, Ulysses is -declared by Achilles to be one of those whom he loves -best among the Greeks<a name="FNanchor_239_239" id="FNanchor_239_239"></a><a href="#Footnote_239_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a>, so here they are united in -carrying to the highest degree a common antipathy to -Thersites.</p> - -<p>While depriving the wretch of all qualities that could -attract towards him the slightest share of sympathy, -Homer has taken care to leave Thersites in full possession -of every thing that was necessary for his trade; -an ample flow of speech (213), and no small power of -vulgar invective (215).</p> - -<p>Again, the quality of mere scurrility assigned to Thersites, -and well exemplified in his speech, stands alike -distinguished in Homer from the vein of fun, which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -can open in the grave Ulysses of the Odyssey, even -while he is under terror of the Cyclops; and from -that tremendous and perhaps still unrivalled power -of sarcasm, of which we have found the climax in -Achilles.</p> - -<p>In the short speech of Thersites, Homer has contrived -to exhibit striking examples of malice (vv. 226, 234), -coarseness (232), vanity (vv. 228, 231, 238), cowardice -(236); while it is a tissue of consummate impudence -throughout. Of this we find the finest stroke at the -end of it, where he says<a name="FNanchor_240_240" id="FNanchor_240_240"></a><a href="#Footnote_240_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀλλὰ μάλ’ οὐκ Ἀχιλῆϊ χόλος φρεσὶν, ἀλλὰ μεθήμων·</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἦ γὰρ ἂν, Ἀτρείδη, νῦν ὕστατα λωβήσαιο</span><a name="FNanchor_241_241" id="FNanchor_241_241"></a><a href="#Footnote_241_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For here the wretch apes Achilles, whom (for the sake -of damaging Agamemnon) he affects to patronize, and, -over and above the pretension to speak of his feelings as -if he had been taken into his confidence on the occasion, -he actually closes with the very line which Achilles, -at the moment of high passion, had used in the Assembly -of the First Book (i. 232).</p> - -<p>If we consider the selection of topics each by themselves, -with reference to effect, the speech is not without -a certain <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐστοχία</span>: he hits the avarice of Agamemnon -hard (226); and his responsibility as a ruler -(234): while pretending to incite the courage of the -Greeks (235), he flatters their home-sickness and faint-heartedness -by counselling the return (236); and, in -supporting Achilles, he plausibly reckons on being -found to have taken the popular side. But if we -regard it, as every speech should be regarded, with -reference to some paramount purpose, it is really senseless -and inconsequent. Dwelling as he does upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -wrong done to Achilles, and asserting the placability of -that chieftain, he ought to have ended with recommending -an attempt to compensate and appease him; -instead of which he recommends the Return, which had -been just abandoned. But the real extravagance of -the speech comes out only in connection with his self-love; -when, like many better men, he wholly loses -whatever sense of the ridiculous he might possess. It -is not only ‘the women whom we give you’ (227); -‘the service which we render you’ (238), but it is also -‘the gold<a name="FNanchor_242_242" id="FNanchor_242_242"></a><a href="#Footnote_242_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a> that some Trojan may bring to ransom his -son, whom I, or else some other Greek, may have led -captive.’ I, Thersites, or some other Greek! The -only Greek, of whom we hear in the Iliad as having -made and sold on ransom captives during the war, is -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_243_243" id="FNanchor_243_243"></a><a href="#Footnote_243_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a>; and it is with him that Thersites thus -couples himself. Upon this, Ulysses, perceiving that -he stands in opposition to the prevailing sentiment -of the Assembly, silences him by a judicious application -of the sceptre to his back and shoulders: yet not even -Thersites does he silence by force, until he has first -rebuked him by reasoning<a name="FNanchor_244_244" id="FNanchor_244_244"></a><a href="#Footnote_244_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a>.</p> - -<p>Such are the facts of the case of Thersites. Are we -to infer from it, with Grote, that Homer has made him -ugly and execrable because he was a presumptuous -critic, though his virulent reproaches were substantially -well founded, and that his fate, and the whole circumstances -of this Assembly, show ‘the degradation of the -mass of the people before the chiefs<a name="FNanchor_245_245" id="FNanchor_245_245"></a><a href="#Footnote_245_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a>?’</p> - -<p>In rallying the Greeks, says the distinguished historian<a name="FNanchor_246_246" id="FNanchor_246_246"></a><a href="#Footnote_246_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a>, -Ulysses flatters and soothes the chiefs, but drives<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -the people with harsh reprimand and blows. Now -surely, as to the mere matter of fact, this is not quite -so. It is not the people, but those whom he caught -carrying the matter by shouts, instead of returning to -hear reason in the Assembly, that he struck with the -sceptre<a name="FNanchor_247_247" id="FNanchor_247_247"></a><a href="#Footnote_247_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὃν δ’ αὖ δήμου τ’ ἄνδρα ἴδοι, βοόωντά τ’ ἐφεύροι·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and it may be observed, that he addresses all classes -alike by the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δαιμόνιε</span><a name="FNanchor_248_248" id="FNanchor_248_248"></a><a href="#Footnote_248_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a>; which, though a term of -expostulation, is not one of disrespect.</p> - -<p>If Thersites represented the principle of reasoning in -the public Assembly, we might well see in the treatment -of him the degradation of the people. But it is -railing, and not reasoning, that he represents; and -Homer has separated widely between this individual -and the mass of the army, by informing us that in the -general opinion Ulysses had rendered a service, even -greater than any of his former ones, by putting down -Thersites. ‘Ulysses has done a thousand good things -in council and in war: but this is the best of all, that -he has stopped the scoundrel in his ribaldry<a name="FNanchor_249_249" id="FNanchor_249_249"></a><a href="#Footnote_249_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a>.’</p> - -<p>Thersites spoke not against Agamemnon only, but -against the sense of the whole army (212); and the -ground of the proceeding of Ulysses is not laid in the -fact of his having resisted Agamemnon, or Agamemnon -with the whole body of the kings; but in the manner of -his speech, and in his having acted alone and against the -general sentiment. Above all, we must recollect the -circumstances, under which Ulysses ventured to chastise -even this rancorous and foul-mouthed railer. It was at -a moment of crisis, nay, of agony. The rush from the -Assembly to the ships did not follow upon an orderly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -assent to a proposal, such as was generally given; but -it resulted from a tumultuous impulse, like that of -blasts tossing the sea, or sweeping down upon the cornfield -(Il. ii. 144-54). If therefore Ulysses employs the -sceptre of Agamemnon to smite those who were shouting -in aid of this ruinous tumult (ii. 198), we need not -take this for a sample of what would be done in ordinary -circumstances, more than the fate of Wat Tyler for -a type of British freedom under the Plantagenets. -Odious too as was Thersites, yet the army, amidst a -preponderating sentiment of approval, still appear to -have felt some regret at his mishap<a name="FNanchor_250_250" id="FNanchor_250_250"></a><a href="#Footnote_250_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δὲ, καὶ ἀχνύμενοί περ, ἐπ’ αὐτῷ ἡδὺ γέλασσαν·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>for the first words would suggest, that they knew how -to value the liberty of thought, which had been abused, -disgraced, and consequently restrained, in his person. -Surely it would be most precipitate to conclude, from a -case like this, that the debates of the Assemblies were -formal, and that they had nothing to do but to listen -to a sham discussion, and to register or follow decrees -which were substantially those of Agamemnon only.</p> - -<p>I believe that the mistake involved in the judgment we -have been canvassing is a double one: a mistake of the -relation of Agamemnon to the other kings and chiefs; -and a mistake of the relation of the sovereigns generally -to their subjects. Agamemnon was strong in influence -and authority, but he had, as we have already seen, -nothing like a despotic control over the other kings. -The kings were strong in personal ability, in high -descent, in the sanction of Jupiter, in possession, and -in tradition: but all their strength, great as it was, lay -as a general rule in the direction of influence, and -not in that of violence.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> -<p>I do not think, however, that we ought to be contented -with the merely negative mode of treatment -for the case of Thersites. I cannot but conceive that, -upon an impartial review, it may teach more, than is -drawn from it by merely saying that it does not prove -the Assembly to have been an illusion. We must -assume that Homer’s picture, if not historical, at least -conformed to the laws of probability. Now, what is the -picture? That the buffoon of the army, wholly without -influence, capable of attracting no respect, when the -mass of the people had overcome their homeward -impulse, had returned to the Assembly, and were awaiting -the proposition of the kings, first continues to rail -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐκολῴα</span>) while every one else is silent, and then takes -upon himself the initiative in recommending the resumption -of the project, which they had that moment -abandoned. If such conduct could be ascribed by -the Poet to a creature sharp-witted enough, and as -careful as others of his own back, does not the very -fact presuppose that freedom of debate was a thing in -principle at least known and familiar?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Agorè on the Shield in Il.</i> xviii.</div> - -<p>In the scene depicted on the Shield of Achilles, new -evidence is afforded us that the people took a real part -in the conduct of public affairs. The people are in -Assembly. A suit is in progress. The matter is one -of homicide; and the guilty person declares that he has -paid the proper fine, while his antagonist avers that he -has not received it. Each presses for a judicial decision. -The people sympathizing, some with one, and some -with the other, cheer them on.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Λαοὶ δ’ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἐπήπυον, ἀμφὶς ἀρωγοί·</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κήρυκες δ’ ἄρα λαὸν ἐρήτυον</span><a name="FNanchor_251_251" id="FNanchor_251_251"></a><a href="#Footnote_251_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I understand the latter words as declaring, not that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -the heralds forbade and put a stop to the cheering of the -people, but either that they kept it within bounds, or -rather that, when the proper time came for the judges to -speak, these, the heralds, procured silence. According -to the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρητύω</span> in Il. ii. 211,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἄλλοι μέν ῥ’ ἕζοντο, ἐρήτυθεν δὲ καθ’ ἕδρας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now of the cheering of the people I venture to say, -not that it raises a presumption of, but that it actually -constitutes, their interference. The rule of every -tolerably regulated assembly, charged with the conduct -of important matters, is to permit no expressions of -approval or otherwise during the proceedings, except -from the parties immediately belonging to the body. -The total exclusion of applause in judicial cases belongs -to a state of mind and manners different from that of -the heroic age. But the exclusion of all applause by -mere strangers to the business rests upon a truth common -to every age; namely, that such applause constitutes -a share in the business, and contributes to the decision. -It will be remembered how the cries of the Galleries -became one of the grievous scandals of the first revolution -in France, and how largely they affected the determinations -of the National Assembly. The irregular -use of such a power is a formidable invasion of legislative -or judicial freedom: the allowed possession of the -privilege amounts to participation in the office of the -statesman or the judge, and demonstrates the substantive -position of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λαὸς</span>, or people, in the Assemblies -of the heroic age.</p> - -<p>But apparently their function was not completed by -merely encouraging the litigant, with whom each man -might chance to sympathize. For we are told not only -that the Judges, that is to say, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>, delivered -their opinions consecutively, but likewise that there lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -in the sight of all two golden talents, to be given to him -who should pronounce the fairest judgment (xviii. 508);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τῷ δόμεν, ὃς μετὰ τοῖσι δίκην ἰθύντατα εἴποι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus it is plain that the judge who might do best was -to get the two talents: but who was to give them? -Not the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> or elders themselves, surely; for -among them the competition lay. There could be but -one way in which the disposal of this fee could be settled: -namely, by the general acclamation of the people, -to be expressed, after hearing the respective parties, in -favour of him whose sentiments they most approved. -And those, to whom it may seem strange to speak of -vote by acclamation, should remember, that down to -this day, in all deliberative assemblies, an overpowering -proportion of the votes are votes by acclamation, or by -the still less definite test of silence. The small minority -of instances, when a difference of opinion is -seriously pressed, are now settled by arithmetic; they -would then have been adjusted by some prudent appeal -to the general will, proceeding from a person of -ability and weight. Indeed even now, in cases when -the numbers approximate to those of the Greek army, -there can be no <i>bonâ fide</i> decision by arithmetic. -The demand, however, that dissension shall be the only -allowed criterion of liberty, is one which really worsens -the condition of human nature beyond what the truth -of experience requires.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Decisions in Assemblies of Il.</i> vii. <i>and</i> ix.</div> - -<p>And finally, what shall we say to the direct -evidence of Agamemnon himself? Idæus<a name="FNanchor_252_252" id="FNanchor_252_252"></a><a href="#Footnote_252_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a>, the Trojan -herald, arrives with the offer to restore the stolen -property, but not Helen. He is received in dead silence. -After a pause, Diomed gives utterance to the -general feeling. ‘Neither will we have the goods<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -without Helen, nor yet Helen with the goods. Troy -is doomed.’ The Assembly shouts its approbation. -Agamemnon immediately addresses himself to the messenger; -‘Idæus, you hear the sense of the Achæans, -how they answer you; and I think with them.’ At -the least this is a declaration as express as words can -make it, and proceeding out of the mouth of the rival -authority, to the effect that the acclamation of the Assembly -was, for all practical purposes, its vote, and that -it required only concurrence from the king, to invest it -with the fullest authority. In the Ninth Iliad, as we -have seen, the vote held good even without that concurrence<a name="FNanchor_253_253" id="FNanchor_253_253"></a><a href="#Footnote_253_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a>.</p> - -<p>We may now, I hope, proceed upon the ground that -we are not to take the ill success of a foulmouthed -scoundrel, detested by the whole army, as a sample of -what would have happened to the people, or even a -part of them, when differing in judgment from their -king. But what shall we say to the argument, that no -case is found where a person of humble condition takes -part in the debates of the Assemblies? No doubt the -conduct of debates was virtually in the hands of those -whose birth, wealth, station, and habits of life gave -them capacity for public affairs. Even in the nineteenth -century, it very rarely happens that a working man -takes part in the proceedings of a county meeting: but -no one would on that account suppose that such an -assembly can be used as the mere tool of the class who -conduct the debate, far less of any individual prominent -in that class. If we cannot conceive freedom without -perpetual discord, the faithful performance of the duty -of information and advice without coercion and oppression, -it is a sign either of our narrow-mindedness, or of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -our political degeneracy; but a feeble eye does not impair -the reality of the object on which it may happen -to be fixed.</p> - -<p>Still we may admit that among the numerous assemblies -of the Iliad, there is no instance where assent -is given by one part of the Assembly, and withheld -by the other. There is, as we have seen, a clear -and strong case where the opinion of the commander-in-chief -is rejected, and that of an inferior commander -adopted in its stead. This in my opinion goes far to -prove all that is necessary. We have from the Odyssey, -however, the means of going further still.</p> - -<p>Only, before leaving the Iliad, let us observe the -terms in which the Greek Assemblies are addressed by -the kings: they are denominated friends and heroes; -names which at least appear to imply their title to -judge, or freely to concur, at least as much as such a -title was recognised in the ancient councils and assemblies -of the Anglo-saxons. Was this appearance a -mockery? I do not say we should compare it with the -organized, secure and regular privileges of a few nations -in modern days. But it would be a far greater mistake to -treat it as an idle form, or as otherwise than a weighty -reality.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Division in the Drunken Assembly.</i></div> - -<p>From what is related in that poem to have occurred -after the capture of Troy, it becomes abundantly clear -that the function of the Greek Assembly was not confined -to listening. The army met in what, for the sake of -distinction, we may call the Drunken Assembly<a name="FNanchor_254_254" id="FNanchor_254_254"></a><a href="#Footnote_254_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a>. Now, -the influence of wine upon its proceedings is amply -sufficient to show that its acts were the acts of the -people: for Homer never allows his chiefs to be moved -from their self-possession by the power of liquor.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> -<p>There was a marked difference of opinion on that -occasion: the people took their sides; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δίχα δέ σφισιν -ἥνδανε βουλή</span> (Od. iii. 150). One half embarked; the residue -staid behind with Agamemnon (155-7). The moiety, -which had sailed away, split again (162); and a portion -of them went back to Agamemnon. We see, indeed, -throughout the Odyssey, how freely the crews of Ulysses -spoke or acted, when they thought fit, in opposition to -his views. If it be said, we must not argue from the unruly -speeches of men in great straits at sea, the answer -is, first, that their necessities might rather tend to induce -their acquiescence in a stricter discipline; and secondly, -that their liberty, and even license, are not out of -keeping with the general tone of the relations between -freemen of different classes, as exhibited to us elsewhere -in the Homeric poems.</p> - -<p>It may, indeed, be said, that the divisions of the -Greeks in the final proceedings at Troy were divisions, -not of the men, but of the chiefs. This, however, upon -the face of the text, is very doubtful. We see from the -tale of the Pseudo-Ulysses, in the Thirteenth Odyssey -(265, 6), that there were parties and separate action in -the Greek contingents: and it is probably to these that -Nestor may allude, when he recommends the Review -in order that the responsibility of the officers may be -brought home to them individually. Now, in the case -before us, the first division is thus described. Menelaus -exhorted all the Greeks (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πάντας Ἀχαιοὺς</span>) to go home: -Agamemnon disagreed (141, 3): while they were contesting -the point, the Assembly rose in two parties -(vv. 149, 50);</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">οἱ δ’ ἀνόρουσαν ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοὶ</div> - <div class="verse">ἠχῇ θεσπεσίῃ· δίχα δέ σφισιν ἥνδανε βουλή.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There is no intimation here that the people in di<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>viding -simply followed their chiefs. Nay, the tone of the -description is such as obliges us to understand that the -movement was a popular one, and took its rise from the -debate: so that, even if the chiefs and their men kept -together respectively, as they may have done, still the -chiefs may probably have followed quite as much as they -led. Again, when the second separation takes place, it -is thus described, ‘One portion returned, under Ulysses, -to Agamemnon. Prognosticating evil, I made sail homewards -with the whole body of my ships, which followed -me. Diomed did the same, and (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὦρσε δ’ ἑταίρους</span>) invited -his men (to do it). And after us at last came Menelaus.’ -(vv. 162-8). Now here instruction is given us on three -points:</p> - -<p>1. Diomed urged his men; therefore it was not a -mere matter of course that they should go.</p> - -<p>2. Nestor mentions especially that his division all -kept together (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σὺν νηυσὶν ἀολλέσιν</span>); therefore this did -not always happen.</p> - -<p>3. It is very unlikely that the part, which is first -named as having returned with Ulysses, should have -been confined to his own petty contingent.</p> - -<p>Thus it is left in great doubt, whether the chiefs and -men did uniformly keep together: and the tenour of -the narrative favours the supposition, that the men at -least contributed materially to any joint conclusions.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Ithacan Assembly of Od.</i> ii.</div> - -<p>As, in the first Assembly of the Iliad, Achilles acts -his personal quarrel in the public eye, and lodges a -sort of tacit appeal against Agamemnon, so, in that of -the Odyssey, Telemachus does the like with reference to -the Suitors. It is there that he protests against their -continued consumption of his substance; that he rejects -their counter-proposal for the dismissal of his -mother on their behalf, and that he himself finally pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>pounds -the voyage to the mainland<a name="FNanchor_255_255" id="FNanchor_255_255"></a><a href="#Footnote_255_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a>. There too we -find a most distinct recognition by Mentor, his guardian, -of the powers and rights of the people; for he -loudly complains of their sitting silent, numerous as -they are<a name="FNanchor_256_256" id="FNanchor_256_256"></a><a href="#Footnote_256_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a>, instead of interposing to rebuke the handful -of Suitors that were the wrongdoers. But if, according -to the genius and usages of the heroic age, the -people had nothing to do but to listen and obey their -betters, the expectation that they should have risen to -defend a minor against the associated aristocracy of the -country would have been absurd, and could not have -been expressed, as we find it expressed, by Mentor.</p> - -<p>It is true indeed, as has been observed by Tittmann<a name="FNanchor_257_257" id="FNanchor_257_257"></a><a href="#Footnote_257_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a>, -that this Assembly makes no effective response -to the appeal of Telemachus; and that the Suitor Antinous -is allowed to declare in it his own intention, and -that of his companions, to continue their lawless proceedings. -But what we see in the Odyssey is not the normal -state of the heroic polities: it is one of those polities -disorganized by the absence of its head, with a people, -as the issue proves, deeply tainted by disloyalty. Yet -let us see what, even in this state of things, was still -the weight of the Agorè. First, when Telemachus desires -to make an initial protest against the acts of the -Suitors, he calls it to his aid. Secondly, though at the -outset of the discussion no concession is made to him, -yet he gains ground as it proceeds. The speech of Antinous, -the first Suitor who addresses the Assembly -(Od. ii. 85-128), is in a tone of sheer defiance, and -treats his attempt as a jest and as an insult (v. 86). The -next is that of Eurymachus; who, while deriding the -omens, yet makes an advance by appealing to Telemachus -to take the matter into his own hands, and induce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -his mother to marry one among them (178-207). The -third, that of Leiocritus, contains a further slight approximation; -for it conveys an assent to his proposed -voyage, and recommends that Mentor and Alitherses -shall assist him in making provision for it (242-56). -Thus even here we see that progression, which may -always be noticed in the Homeric debates; and the -influence under which it was effected must surely have -been an apprehension of the Assembly, to which both -Telemachus, and still more directly Mentor, had appealed.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, however, we perceive in this very account -the signs of the disordered and distracted state of the -public mind. For, beyond a sentiment of pity for -Telemachus when he bursts into tears (v. 81), they -make no sign of approval or disapproval. We miss -in Ithaca the well-known cheers of the Iliad, the</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δ’ ἄρα πάντες ἐπίαχον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>They are dismissed without having made a sign; just as -it is in the Assembly of the First Iliad (an exception in -that poem); where the mind of the masses, puzzled and -bewildered, is not in a condition to enable them to interfere -by the distinct expression of their sympathies<a name="FNanchor_258_258" id="FNanchor_258_258"></a><a href="#Footnote_258_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a>.</p> - -<p>There are, however, two other instances of Assemblies -in the Odyssey.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Phæacian Assembly of Od.</i> viii.</div> - -<p>The first of these is the Assembly of the Phæacians -in the Eighth Book; which we may safely assume to be -modelled generally according to the prevailing manners.</p> - -<p>The petition<a name="FNanchor_259_259" id="FNanchor_259_259"></a><a href="#Footnote_259_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a> of Ulysses to Alcinous is, that he may -be sent onwards to his home. The king replies, that -he will make arrangements about it on the following -day<a name="FNanchor_260_260" id="FNanchor_260_260"></a><a href="#Footnote_260_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a>. Accordingly, the Assembly of the Phæacian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -people is called: Minerva herself, under the form of -the herald, takes the pains to summon the principal -persons<a name="FNanchor_261_261" id="FNanchor_261_261"></a><a href="#Footnote_261_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a>. Alcinous then proposes that a ship shall be -got ready, with a crew of fifty-two picked men<a name="FNanchor_262_262" id="FNanchor_262_262"></a><a href="#Footnote_262_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a>. For -his part he will give to this crew, together with the -kings, an entertainment at the palace before they set -out<a name="FNanchor_263_263" id="FNanchor_263_263"></a><a href="#Footnote_263_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a>. This is all done without debate. Then comes -the banquet, and the first song of Demodocus. The -company next return to the place of assembly, for the -games. It is here that Ulysses is taunted by Euryalus<a name="FNanchor_264_264" id="FNanchor_264_264"></a><a href="#Footnote_264_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a>. -In his reply he appeals to his character as a -suppliant; but he is the suppliant of the king and all -the people, not of the king, nor even of the king and -his brother kings, alone<a name="FNanchor_265_265" id="FNanchor_265_265"></a><a href="#Footnote_265_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἧμαι, λισσόμενος βασιλῆά τε, πάντα τε δῆμον.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We must therefore assume that Alcinous, in his proposal, -felt that he was acting according both to precedent -and the general opinion. He does not order any -measure to be taken, but simply gives his opinion in -the Assembly about providing a passage, which is -silently accepted (ver. 46). Yet I cannot but take it -for a sign of the strong popular infusion in the political<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -ideas of the age, when we find that even so slight a -measure, as the dispatch of Ulysses, was thought fit to -be proposed and settled there.</p> - -<p>But we have weightier matter disposed of in the -Twenty-fourth Odyssey, which affords us an eighth -and last example of the Greek Assembly, its powers, -and usages.</p> - -<p>The havock made of the Suitors by Ulysses is at -last discovered after the bodies have been disposed of; -and upon the discovery, the chiefs and people repair in -a mass to the open space where Assemblies were held, -and which bears the same name with them<a name="FNanchor_266_266" id="FNanchor_266_266"></a><a href="#Footnote_266_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a>. Here -the people are addressed on the one side by Eupeithes, -father of the leading Suitor Antinous, on the other, by -Medon the herald, and Alitherses, son of Mastor the -Seer. And here we are supplied with further proofs, -that the Assemblies were not wholly unaccustomed to -act according to their feelings and opinions. There is no -sign of perplexity or confusion; but there is difference -of sentiment, and each party acts upon its own. More -than half the meeting loudly applaud Alitherses, and -break up, determined not to meddle in the affair<a name="FNanchor_267_267" id="FNanchor_267_267"></a><a href="#Footnote_267_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a>. The -other party keep their places, holding with Eupeithes; -they then go to arm, and undertake the expedition -against Ulysses. Having lost their leader by a spear’s -throw of Laertes, for which Minerva had supplied him -with strength, they fall like sheep before the weapons -of their great chief and his son. Yet, though routed, -they are not treated as criminals for their resistance; -but the poem closes by informing us that Minerva, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -the form of Mentor<a name="FNanchor_268_268" id="FNanchor_268_268"></a><a href="#Footnote_268_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a>, negotiated a peace between the -parties<a name="FNanchor_269_269" id="FNanchor_269_269"></a><a href="#Footnote_269_269" class="fnanchor">[269]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Councils or Assemblies of Olympus.</i></div> - -<p>Since the Assemblies of Olympus grow out of the polytheistic -form of the Greek religion, we must treat them -as part of its human element, and as a reflection of the -heroic life. There will therefore be an analogy perceptible -between the relation of Jupiter to the other -Immortals in the Olympian Assembly, and that of the -Greek Sovereign to all or some of those around him. -But as the deities meet in the capacity of rulers, we -should seek this analogy rather in the relation between -Agamemnon and the kings, or between the local sovereign -and his elders (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>), than between either of -the two respective heads, and the mass of those whom -he ruled. This analogy is in substance sustained by -the poems. The sovereignty of Jupiter undoubtedly -stands more elevated, among the divinities of Olympus, -than that of Agamemnon, or any other of his kings, on -earth. It includes more of the element of force, and -it approximates more nearly to a positive supremacy. -Accordingly, whatever indicates freedom in Olympus -will tend <i>a fortiori</i> to show, that the idea of freedom -in debate was, at least as among the chiefs, familiar -here below. Yet even in Olympus the other chief -deities could murmur, argue, and object. The power<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -of Jupiter is exhibited at its zenith in the Assembly of -the Eighth Iliad, when he violently threatens all that -disobey, and challenges the whole pack to try their -strength with him. The vehemence with which he -spoke produced the same intimidatory effect upon the -gods, as did the great speech of Achilles upon the envoys: -and the result upon the minds of the hearers in -the two cases respectively, is described in lines which, -with the exception of a single word, precisely correspond<a name="FNanchor_270_270" id="FNanchor_270_270"></a><a href="#Footnote_270_270" class="fnanchor">[270]</a>. -Still, immediately after Jupiter has given the -peremptory order not to assist either party, Minerva -answers, Well, we will not fight—which she never had -done—but we will advise; and this Jupiter at once -and cheerfully permits<a name="FNanchor_271_271" id="FNanchor_271_271"></a><a href="#Footnote_271_271" class="fnanchor">[271]</a>. But there is more than this. -Be the cause what it may, the personal will of Jupiter, -fulfilled as to Achilles<a name="FNanchor_272_272" id="FNanchor_272_272"></a><a href="#Footnote_272_272" class="fnanchor">[272]</a>, is not fulfilled as to -Troy. The Assembly of the Fourth Book is opened -with a proposal from him, that Troy shall stand<a name="FNanchor_273_273" id="FNanchor_273_273"></a><a href="#Footnote_273_273" class="fnanchor">[273]</a>. -From this he recedes, and it is decided that the city -shall be destroyed; while the only reservation he makes -is not at all on behalf of the Trojans, but simply on behalf -of his own freedom to destroy any other city he -may mislike, however dear it may chance to be to -Juno.</p> - -<p>The position of Agamemnon, of which Jupiter is in -a great degree a reflection, bears a near resemblance to -that of a political leader under free European, and, -perhaps it may be said, especially under British, institutions. -Its essential elements are, that it is worked in -part by accommodation, and in part by influence.</p> - -<p>Besides its grand political function, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> is, as -we have seen, in part a judicial body. But the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -safeguard of publicity attends the conduct of trials, as -well as the discussion of political affairs. The partialities -of people who manifest their feelings by visible -signs is thus prevented, on the one hand, by the cultivation -of habitual self-respect, from passing into fury, -and on the other hand, from degenerating into baseness.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps worthy of notice, as assisting to indicate -the substantive and active nature of the popular interest -in public affairs, that where parties were formed -in the Assemblies, those who thought together sat -together. Such appears to be the intimation of the -line in the Eighteenth Iliad (502),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">λαοὶ δ’ ἀμφοτέροισιν ἐπήπυον, ἀμφὶς ἀρωγοί.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>As the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀμφὶς ἀρωγοὶ</span> expresses their sentiments, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀμφοτέρωθεν</span> -can hardly signify any thing other than that they -sat separately on each side of the Assembly. A similar -arrangement seems to be conveyed in the Twenty-fourth -Odyssey, where we find that the party of the -Suitors remained in a mass (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοὶ δ’ ἀθρόοι αὐτόθι μίμνον</span>, -v. 464.) I think this circumstance by no means an -unimportant one, as illustrative of the capacity, in which -the people attended at the Assemblies for either political -or judicial purposes.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Judicial functions of the Assembly.</i></div> - -<p>The place of Assemblies is also the place of judicature. -But the supremacy of the political function is -indicated by this, that the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, which means -the Assembly for debate, thus gives its own designation -to the place where both functions were conducted. At -the same time, we have in the word Themis a clear indication -that the original province of government was -judicial. For that word in Homer signifies the principles -of law, though they were not yet reduced to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -fixed forms of after-times; but on the other hand Themis -was also a goddess, and she had in that capacity the office -of summoning and of dissolving Assemblies<a name="FNanchor_274_274" id="FNanchor_274_274"></a><a href="#Footnote_274_274" class="fnanchor">[274]</a>. Thus the -older function, as often happens, came in time to be -the weaker, and had to yield the precedence to its -more vigorous competitor.</p> - -<p>But in Homer’s time, though they were distinguished, -they were not yet divided. On the Shield of -Achilles, the work of Themis<a name="FNanchor_275_275" id="FNanchor_275_275"></a><a href="#Footnote_275_275" class="fnanchor">[275]</a> is done in full Assembly: -and this probably signifies the custom of the time. But -in the Eleventh Iliad, Patroclus passes by the ships of -Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_276_276" id="FNanchor_276_276"></a><a href="#Footnote_276_276" class="fnanchor">[276]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">ἵνα σφ’ ἀγορή τε θέμις τε</div> - <div class="verse">ἤην.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And, in the description of the Cyclopes, the line is yet -more clearly drawn; for it is said<a name="FNanchor_277_277" id="FNanchor_277_277"></a><a href="#Footnote_277_277" class="fnanchor">[277]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τοῖσιν δ’ οὔτ’ ἀγοραὶ βουληφόροι, οὔτε θέμιστες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In that same place, too, the public solemnities of -religion were performed: and though in the Greek -camp it was doubtless placed at the centre of the line -with a view to security, its position most aptly symbolized -also its moral centrality, as the very heart of -the national life. At the spot where the Assemblies -were held were gathered into a focus the religious, as -well as the patriotic sentiments of the country.</p> - -<p>The fact is, that everywhere in Homer we find the -signs of an intense corporate or public life, subsisting -and working side by side with that of the individual. -And of this corporate life the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> is the proper -organ. If a man is to be described as great, he is -always great in debate and on the field; if as insignificant -and good for nothing, then he is of no account<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -either in battle or in council. The two grand forms of -common and public action are taken for the criteria of -the individual.</p> - -<p>When Homer wished to describe the Cyclopes as -living in a state of barbarism, he says, not that they -have no kings, or no towns, or no armies, or no country, -but that they have no Assemblies, and no administration -of justice, which, as we have seen, was the primary -function of the Assemblies. And yet all, or nearly all -the States had Kings. The lesson to be learned is, that -in heroic Greece the King, venerable as was his title, -was not the fountainhead of the common life, but only -its exponent. The source lay in the community, and -the community met in the Agorè. So deeply imbedded -is this sentiment in the mind of the Poet, that it seems -as if he could not conceive an assemblage of persons -having any kind of common function, without their -having, so to speak, a common soul too in respect of it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The common Soul or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> in Homer.</i></div> - -<p>Of this common soul the organ in Homer is the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> -or ‘Somebody;’ by no means one of the least remarkable, -though he has been one of the least regarded, -personages of the poems. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> of Homer is, I apprehend, -what in England we now call public opinion. -We constantly find occasions, when the Poet wants to -tell us what was the prevailing sentiment among the -Greeks of the army. He might have done this didactically, -and described at length the importance of -popular opinion, and its bearings in each case. He has -adopted a method more poetical and less obtrusive. He -proceeds dramatically, through the medium of a person, -and of a formula:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκεν, ἰδὼν ἐς πλήσιον ἄλλον.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It may, however, not seem worthy of remark, considering -the amount of common interest among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -Greeks, that he should find an organ for it in his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τίς</span>. -But when he brings the Greeks and Trojans together -in the Pact, though it is only for the purpose of a -momentary action, still he makes an integer <i>pro hâc vice</i> -of the two nations, and provides them with a common -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> (Il. iii. 319):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκεν Ἀχαιῶν τε Τρώων τε.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We find another remarkable exemplification in the -case of the Suitors in the Odyssey. Dissolute and -selfish youths as they are, and competitors with one -another for a prize which one only can enjoy, they are -nevertheless for the moment banded together in a -common interest. They too, therefore, have a collective -sentiment, and a ready organ for it in a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> of the -Odyssey (Od. ii. 324), who speaks for the body of -Suitors:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὧδε δέ τις εἴπεσκε νέων ὑπερηνορεόντων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>All these are, in my view, most striking proofs of the -tenacious hold, which the principle of a public or corporate -life for all aggregations of men had taken upon -the mind of Homer, and upon Greece in the heroic -age. Nor can I help forming the opinion, that in all -probability we may discern in the Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> the -primary ancestor of the famous Greek Chorus. It is -the function of the Chorus to give utterance to the -public sentiment, but in a sense apt, virtuous, and -pious. Now this is what the Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> usually -does; but of course he does on behalf of the community, -what the Chorus does as belonging to the body -of actors.</p> - -<p>It is then surely a great error, after all we have seen, -to conclude that, because the political ideas and practices -of those times did not wear the costumes now in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -fashion, they were without their own real vitality, and -powerful moral influence upon the minds and characters -of men.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Imperfect organization of the Heroic Polities.</i></div> - -<p>But, on the other hand, in repelling these unsound -and injurious notions, we must beware of assuming too -much of external resemblance between the heroic age -and the centuries either of modern Christendom or -even of historic Greece and Rome. All the determinate -forms of public right are the growth of long time, -of dearbought experience, and of proved necessity. -Right and force are supplements to one another; but -the proportions, in which they are to be mingled, are -subject to no fixed rule. If the existence of rights, both -popular and regal, in the heroic age is certain, their -indeterminateness is glaring and conspicuous. But the -shape they bore, notwithstanding the looseness of its -outline, was quite adequate to the needs of the time. -We must not, in connection with the heroic age, think -of public life as a profession, of a standing mass of public -affairs, of legislation eternally in arrear, of a complex -machinery of government. There were no regular -regencies in Greece during the Trojan war. There -was no Assembly in Ithaca during the long absence of -Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_278_278" id="FNanchor_278_278"></a><a href="#Footnote_278_278" class="fnanchor">[278]</a>, before the one called by Telemachus, and -reported in the Second Book of the Odyssey. We -have seen, however, in what way this lack of machinery -told upon the state of Greece by encouraging faction, -and engendering revolution. The strain of the Trojan -expedition was too great for a system so artless and inorganic. -The state of Ithaca in the Odyssey is politically -a state almost of anarchy; though the symptoms of that -disease were milder by far then, than they could now -be. The condition of the island shows us what its polity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -had been, rather than what it was. But for all ordinary -occasions it had sufficed. For Assemblies met -only when they had something to do; and rarely -indeed would such junctures arrive. Infractions of -social order and social rights, which now more commonly -take place by fraud, were then due almost -wholly to violence. And violence, from its nature, -could hardly be the subject of appeal to the Assembly: -as a general rule, it required to be repaid on the instant, -and in the same coin. Judicial questions would not -often be of such commanding interest, as to divide a -people into two opinions; nor the parties to them -wealthy enough to pay two talents to the successful -judge. Great controversies, affecting allegiance and the -succession, must of necessity in all ages be rare; and -of a disputed succession in Greece the poems can -hardly be said to offer us an instance. We find, however, -in the last Book of the Odyssey, that, according -to the ideas of that period, when a question as to the -sovereignty did arise, the people needed no instructor -as to the first measure they were to take. They repaired, -as if by a common and instinctive impulse, to the -Agorè; in which lay deposited their civil rights and -their old traditions, like the gems of the wealth of -Greece in the shrine of the Archer Apollo<a name="FNanchor_279_279" id="FNanchor_279_279"></a><a href="#Footnote_279_279" class="fnanchor">[279]</a>.</p> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">II. ILIOS.<br /> - -<span class="smaller">THE TROJANS COMPARED AND CONTRASTED -WITH THE GREEKS.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>We have perhaps been accustomed to contemplate -the Trojans too exclusively, either as enemies of the -Greeks, or else as constituting, together with them, -one homogeneous chapter of antiquity, which we might -be content to examine as a whole, without taking -notice of specific differences. Let us now endeavour -to inquire what were the relations, other than those of -mere antagonism in the war, between the two nations; -what points they embraced, and what affinities or -discords they disclose. The direct signs of kindred -between Troy and Greece have already been considered; -but the examination into points of contrast -and resemblance as respects religion, polity, and character, -will assist us in judging how far a key to those -affinities and discords is to be found in the different -interfusion and proportion, in the two cases, of ethnical -elements which they possessed in common.</p> - -<p>We have seen in another place<a name="FNanchor_280_280" id="FNanchor_280_280"></a><a href="#Footnote_280_280" class="fnanchor">[280]</a> that the Greeks, or -Achæans, and the Trojans, were akin by the Hellic -element, which appears to establish a connection chiefly -as regarded the royal house, and other ruling houses, of -Troy. On the other hand it has seemed clear, from -many sources, that the main affinity between the bulk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -of the two nations was Pelasgian. As respects the -ethnological question, the supposition most consonant -to the evidence as a whole appears to me to be, that -in Troas we find Hellic families, possessed of dominion -over a Pelasgian people: in Greece we find Hellic -tribes, placed in dominant juxtaposition with Pelasgic -tribes, of prior occupancy; constituting, as is probable, -whole classes of the community, and mingling with -and powerfully modifying the aggregate composition so -as to produce a mixed result; while in Troy, though -the ruling houses are probably a different order, and -there may be found here and there the tokens of this -influence, yet the general face of society, and the substance -of manners and institutions, are Pelasgian. It -will be recollected, that even in Greece we trace two -forms of Hellic diffusion. Sometimes the descendants -of the Helli appear as single families, like the Æolids; -sometimes as races, like the Achæans. The state of -facts here supposed as to Troy is in accordance with the -former class of indications within Greece itself.</p> - -<p>Upon the footing supplied by these assumptions, I -shall treat the comparison of the two countries as to -religion, policy, social usages, and moral ideas and -practice.</p> - -<p>We have already been obliged, in considering the -respective shares of the Hellenic and Pelasgian factors -in the compound Greek character, to anticipate in -some degree the conclusions with regard to the religion -of the Trojans in its general character, which I will -now proceed more fully to explain and illustrate.</p> - -<p>We have found three conspicuous deities, of worship -apparently supreme and universal: Jupiter, Minerva, -and Apollo. After these comes Neptune, of a more -doubtful position when we pass out of the Hellenic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -and Phœnician circles; and Latona with Diana, who, -doubtless from the vantage ground of early tradition, -take rank alike with an Hellenic and a Pelasgian people. -We have also supposed Ceres to be of immemorial -standing as a deity of the Pelasgians; and Venus to have -made great way among them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Greek names of deities found also in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>Passing on from the consideration of Pelasgian religion -at large, it will now be requisite to show, with -particular reference to Troy, how far we find the names -of the Greek divinities recognised there; nor must we -omit to consider, in what degree identity of name implies -identity of person and function.</p> - -<p>1. Jupiter had a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>, or portion of consecrated -land, on Mount Gargarus; and there Onetor was his -priest<a name="FNanchor_281_281" id="FNanchor_281_281"></a><a href="#Footnote_281_281" class="fnanchor">[281]</a>. He is, with the Trojans as with the Greeks, -the first and greatest of the gods<a name="FNanchor_282_282" id="FNanchor_282_282"></a><a href="#Footnote_282_282" class="fnanchor">[282]</a>. He himself attests -their abundant liberality in sacrifices offered to himself<a name="FNanchor_283_283" id="FNanchor_283_283"></a><a href="#Footnote_283_283" class="fnanchor">[283]</a>. -The Greek Jupiter is Olympian; the Trojan -Jupiter is Jupiter of Ida. Except as to abode, there -is no difference to be discerned between the features -of the two.</p> - -<p>2. We have no direct indication, in the Iliad, of the -worship of Neptune by the Trojans. But the legend -of his employment under Laomedon must be taken to -imply that his divinity was acknowledged in that -country: confirmed as it is by his sharing with Jupiter -and Apollo the destruction of the Greek rampart after -the conclusion of the war<a name="FNanchor_284_284" id="FNanchor_284_284"></a><a href="#Footnote_284_284" class="fnanchor">[284]</a>.</p> - -<p>3. In the case of Juno, I have elsewhere noticed<a name="FNanchor_285_285" id="FNanchor_285_285"></a><a href="#Footnote_285_285" class="fnanchor">[285]</a> -the three passages, which alone appear to establish a -faint connection between her and the Trojans.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>4. Minerva had a temple on Pergamus; and was -served there by a priestess, Theano; who, as the wife of -Antenor, was of the very next rank to Priam and his -house. The goddess is addressed, on the occasion of -the procession of the Sixth Book, in a strain which -seems to acknowledge her possession of supreme -power<a name="FNanchor_286_286" id="FNanchor_286_286"></a><a href="#Footnote_286_286" class="fnanchor">[286]</a>: the defender of cities, excellent among goddesses, -she is entreated to have pity on Troy, to break -the lance of Diomed, and to grant that he himself may -fall.</p> - -<p>5. Apollo would appear to be the favourite among -the great deities of the country. He, like Minerva, -has a temple in the citadel<a name="FNanchor_287_287" id="FNanchor_287_287"></a><a href="#Footnote_287_287" class="fnanchor">[287]</a>. Chryses is his priest at -Chryse, and there too he has a temple. He is the -special protector of Cilla and of Tenedos<a name="FNanchor_288_288" id="FNanchor_288_288"></a><a href="#Footnote_288_288" class="fnanchor">[288]</a>. With Minerva, -he is indicated as the recipient of supreme -honour<a name="FNanchor_289_289" id="FNanchor_289_289"></a><a href="#Footnote_289_289" class="fnanchor">[289]</a>. The Lycian name, so prevalent in Troas, -establishes a special connection with him. In the -Iliad, he seems to be the ordinary and immediate Providence -to the Trojan chiefs, as Minerva is to the -Greek ones. At the same time, he carries no sign of -exclusive nationalism; he bears no hatred to the -Greeks; but, after the restitution and propitiation, he -at once accepts the prayer, and stays the pestilence<a name="FNanchor_290_290" id="FNanchor_290_290"></a><a href="#Footnote_290_290" class="fnanchor">[290]</a>.</p> - -<p>6. Latona must have been known among the Trojans; -because Homer has represented her as contending -on the Trojan side in the war of the gods, and as engaged -in tending the wounded Æneas within the temple -of Apollo on Pergamus.</p> - -<p>7. The same reasons apply also to Diana: and we -moreover find, that she instructed the Trojan Scamandrius -in the huntsman’s art<a name="FNanchor_291_291" id="FNanchor_291_291"></a><a href="#Footnote_291_291" class="fnanchor">[291]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p> - -<p>8. Venus is eminently Trojan. Her relation to this -people is marked by her favour towards Paris: her -passion for Anchises: her sending a personal ornament -as a marriage gift to Andromache; her ministerial -charge over the body of Hector (Il. xxiii. 184-7); her -being chosen as the model to which Trojan beauties -are compared, while Diana is the favourite standard for -the Greek woman. It is also marked by her zealous, -though feeble, partizanship in favour of Troy among -the Immortals: and by the biting taunts of Pallas, of -Helen, and of Diomed<a name="FNanchor_292_292" id="FNanchor_292_292"></a><a href="#Footnote_292_292" class="fnanchor">[292]</a>.</p> - -<p>9. Vulcan is not only known, but has a <i>cult</i> in Troy: -for Dares is his priest, and is a person of great wealth -and consideration; one of whose sons he delivers from -death in battle, to comfort the old man in his decline<a name="FNanchor_293_293" id="FNanchor_293_293"></a><a href="#Footnote_293_293" class="fnanchor">[293]</a>.</p> - -<p>10. Mars. Of this deity it would seem, that he has -been given by Homer to the Pelasgians, mainly because -of his so strongly marked Thracian character, -and his want of recognition among the Hellenes, who -had a higher deity of war in Minerva. I have touched -elsewhere upon his equivocal position as between the -two parties to the war. It corresponds with that of -the Thracians, who appear to form a point of intersection, -so to speak, for the Hellic and Pelasgian races. -Those of the plain of Adrianople are, like the Pelasgi, -horse-breeders, dwelling in a fertile country: the ruder -portion are among the mountains to the north and -west.</p> - -<p>11. Mercury. One sign only of the ordinary agency -of this deity in Troas is exhibited; he gives abundant -increase to the flocks of Phorbas<a name="FNanchor_294_294" id="FNanchor_294_294"></a><a href="#Footnote_294_294" class="fnanchor">[294]</a>.</p> - -<p>12. Earth (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γαῖα</span>) would appear to have been recognised -as an object of distinct worship in Troas: for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -when Menelaus proposes the Pact, he invites the Trojans -to sacrifice a black lamb to her, and a white one -to the Sun; while the Greeks will on their part offer -up a lamb to Jupiter. The proposal is at once accepted; -and the heralds are sent by Hector to the city for the -lambs<a name="FNanchor_295_295" id="FNanchor_295_295"></a><a href="#Footnote_295_295" class="fnanchor">[295]</a>, which seems to be conclusive as to the acknowledgment -of these two deities in Troy.</p> - -<p>13. The Sun. Besides that the passage last quoted -for Earth is also conclusive for the Sun, we have another -token of his relation to Troy, in the unwillingness with -which he closes the day, when with his setting is to end -the glory of Hector and of his country<a name="FNanchor_296_296" id="FNanchor_296_296"></a><a href="#Footnote_296_296" class="fnanchor">[296]</a>.</p> - -<p>We have thus gone through the list of the greater -Greek deities, and have found them all acknowledged -in Troas, with the following exceptions: 1. of Ceres, -whom we may however suspect, from her Pelasgian character, -to have been worshipped there under some name -or form; 2. of Aidoneus; and 3. of Persephone. These -exceptions will be further noticed.</p> - -<p>Again, among the thirteen who have been identified -as objects of Trojan worship, we find one, namely, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γαῖα</span>, -of whom we can hardly say that she was worshipped in -Greece; though she was invoked, as by Agamemnon in -the Nineteenth Book, and by Althea in the Ninth, to -add a more solemn sanction to oaths.</p> - -<p>14. Together with her, we may take notice of a fourteenth -deity, apparently of great consideration in Troy, -namely, the River Scamander. He bears a marked -sign of ancient worship, in having a divine appellation, -Xanthus, as well as his terrestrial one, Scamander. He -had an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρήτηρ</span>, by name Dolopion. To him, according -to the speech of Achilles, the Trojans sacrificed live -horses. He enters into the division of parties among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -the gods about the war, and fights vigorously against -Achilles, until he is at length put down by Hephæstus, -or Vulcan. As a purely local deity, however, he has -of course no place in the Greek mythology.</p> - -<p>15. Though we have no direct mention of the translation -of Tithonus by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>, or Aurora, yet, as Homer -gives Tithonus a place both in the genealogy of the -Dardanidæ, and likewise by the side of Aurora, we may -consider that, by thus recognising the translation, he -also points out Aurora as an acknowledged member of -the supernatural order in Troas.</p> - -<p>Several among these names call for more particular -notice: especially those of Vulcan, Earth, and Scamander.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Worship of Vulcan in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>The case of Vulcan, and his place in Troy, may -serve to remind us of a proposition somewhat general -in its application; this namely, that, in classifying the -Trojan divinities, Homer need not have intended to -imply that the same name must in all cases carry exactly -the same attributes. We must here bear in mind, -that probably all, certainly almost all, of the properly -Olympian gods, were Greek copies modified from Oriental -or from traditive originals. But as these conceptions -were propagated in different quarters, each country -would probably add or take away, or otherwise alter, -in conformity with its own ruling tendencies. Hence -when we find a Vulcan in Greece, and a Vulcan in -Troas, it by no means follows, that each of them presented -the same features and attributes. If Homer -believed them to be derived from a common original -in Egypt or elsewhere, that would be a good and valid -reason for his describing them by the same name, -though the Trojan Vulcan might not present all the -Hellenic traits, nor <i>vice versâ</i>. In some cases, such as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -those of Jupiter, Apollo, Minerva, Diana, and Venus, -there is such a correspondence of attributes entering -into the portraiture of the respective deities in the two -countries, that their identity, at least so far as the evidence -goes, seems quite unimpaired and unequivocal. -But we have no means of showing from the poems, -that the Trojan Hephæstus corresponded with the Greek -one. Indeed when we find no mention of his being -actually worshipped in Greece, and at the same time -learn that he had a priest in Troas, the presumption -arises, that different conceptions of him prevailed in -the two countries. Again, there is nowhere assigned -to him as a Greek deity any such exercise of power, as -that by which he saves Idæus, a son of his priest Dares, -from imminent death on the field of battle.</p> - -<p>These general considerations, which tend to show that -the identity of name in a Trojan and a Greek deity -may be compatible with much of dissimilarity in the -popular development of the functions, will relieve us -from difficulties, which we should otherwise have had -to meet, in accounting for the place of some of the -Olympian divinities in Trojan worship. We have -found reason to suppose, that Vulcan may have come -into Greece through Phœnicia. But the Trojans appear -to have had very little connection with Phœnicia. -The precious <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κειμήλιον</span> of Priam, the cup that he carried -to Achilles, was not Phœnician but Thracian<a name="FNanchor_297_297" id="FNanchor_297_297"></a><a href="#Footnote_297_297" class="fnanchor">[297]</a>. -The only token of intercourse mentioned is, that Paris -brought textile fabrics from Sidon<a name="FNanchor_298_298" id="FNanchor_298_298"></a><a href="#Footnote_298_298" class="fnanchor">[298]</a>. Again, Vulcan -was especially worshipped in Lemnos, and had his terrestrial -abode there. But this goes more naturally to -account for the works of metal in Thrace, than for the -position of Vulcan in Troas; higher as it was, appar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>ently, -than in Greece. Again, it is worth notice, that -the Vulcan of the Romans was, like their Mars, one of -the old gods of Etruria, a country stamped with many -Pelasgian characteristics. It may be, that we ought to -look back to Egypt for the origin of all these Vulcans. -In the time of Herodotus<a name="FNanchor_299_299" id="FNanchor_299_299"></a><a href="#Footnote_299_299" class="fnanchor">[299]</a>, the Egyptian priests claimed -him as their own: and Phtah, the principal deity of -Memphis, was held by the later Greeks to correspond -with their <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἥφαιστος</span>. Even the two names carry tokens -of relationship. From that fountain-head might be -propagated diverging copies of the deity: and, as far as -we can judge, the Vulcan worshipped in Troy was -much more like the common ancestor, than the highly -idealized artificer of Olympus, upon whom the Poet -has worked out all his will<a name="FNanchor_300_300" id="FNanchor_300_300"></a><a href="#Footnote_300_300" class="fnanchor">[300]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Worship of Juno and Gaia in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>There is another of its points of contact with the -Olympian system, in which this list of Trojan deities is -remarkable. While investigating the Greek mythology, -we have found reason to suppose that Juno, -Ceres, and Gaia are but three different forms of the -same original tradition of a divine <i>feminine</i>: of whom -Ceres is the Pelasgian copy, Juno the vivid and powerful -Hellenic development, and Gaia the original skeleton, -retaining nothing of the old character, but having -acquired the function of gaol-keeper for perjurors -when sent to the other world<a name="FNanchor_301_301" id="FNanchor_301_301"></a><a href="#Footnote_301_301" class="fnanchor">[301]</a>. In the retention however -of all three within the circle of religion, we see -both the receptiveness and the universalism of the -Greek mythology. Now, in Troy, where there was less -of imaginative power, the case stands very differently. -Of Ceres, who represents the Pelasgian impression of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -the old earth-worshipping tradition, we hear nothing in -Troas. Probably she was not there, because Gaia, her -original, was still a real divinity for the Trojans. But -how are we to explain the fact that Gaia and Juno are -both there? I venture to suggest, that it is because -these are different names, the foreign and the domestic -one, for the same thing. When Hector swears to -Dolon, it is by Jupiter, ‘the loud-thundering husband -of Here:’ which almost appears as if Juno held, in the -Trojan oath, a place more or less resembling the place -occupied in the Greek oaths (where Juno does not -appear at all) by Gaia.</p> - -<p>Again, it is obvious that, if this relation exists between -Gaia and Juno, it explains the fact that we do -not find both, so to speak, thriving together. In Troas -Gaia is worshipped, but Juno scarcely appears. In -Greece Juno is highly exalted, but Gaia has lost all -body, and has dwindled to a spectral phantasm. It is -the want of imagination in the Trojan mythology, which -makes it a more faithful keeper of traditions, stereotyped -in the forms in which they were had from their -inventors.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Worship of Mercury in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>Next, as to Mercury. I have already adverted to -the fact that Priam<a name="FNanchor_302_302" id="FNanchor_302_302"></a><a href="#Footnote_302_302" class="fnanchor">[302]</a>, notwithstanding his obligations -to Mercury in the Twenty-fourth Iliad, takes no notice -of his divinity. I think that a close examination of the -narrative tends to show, that the Greek Mercury was -not worshipped in Troy; and leaves us to conclude -that Homer uses a merely poetical mode of speech in -saying that this god gave increase to the flocks of -Phorbas<a name="FNanchor_303_303" id="FNanchor_303_303"></a><a href="#Footnote_303_303" class="fnanchor">[303]</a>: even as when he makes Priam call Iris an -<i>Olympian</i> messenger<a name="FNanchor_304_304" id="FNanchor_304_304"></a><a href="#Footnote_304_304" class="fnanchor">[304]</a>.</p> - -<p>He appears before Priam and his companion Idæus,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -when they are on their way to the Greek camp, in the -semblance of a young and noble Myrmidon. There -were, we know<a name="FNanchor_305_305" id="FNanchor_305_305"></a><a href="#Footnote_305_305" class="fnanchor">[305]</a>, certain visible signs, by which deities -could in general be recognised or, at least, guessed as -such. Both Idæus, however, and Priam himself, saw -nothing of this character in Mercury, and simply took -him for a Greek enemy<a name="FNanchor_306_306" id="FNanchor_306_306"></a><a href="#Footnote_306_306" class="fnanchor">[306]</a>. Mercury, after some genial -conversation, conducts his chariot to the quarters of -Achilles, and then, before quitting him, announces -himself. Not, however, like Apollo to Hector (Il. xv. -256), and Minerva to Ulysses (Od. xiii. 299), simply by -giving his name: but he also declares himself to be an -Immortal, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεὸς ἄμβροτος</span> (460). This unusual circumstance -raises a presumption, that he was not already -known as a divinity to Priam; and the presumption -seems to become irrefragable, when we find that -Priam, though given to the observances of religion, -uses no act or expression of reverence or even recognition -to his benefactor, either on his first declaration -and departure (460, 7), or upon his second nocturnal -appearance (682), followed by a second and final flight -to Olympus (694).</p> - -<p>The case of Scamander will require particular notice: -because it is immediately connected with the question, -whether the Trojans partook of that tendency to a -large imaginative development of religion, which so -eminently distinguishes the Grecian supernaturalism.</p> - -<p>We will therefore consider carefully the facts relating -to this deity, and such other kindred facts as -Homer suggests.</p> - -<p>He speaks of Dolopion as follows<a name="FNanchor_307_307" id="FNanchor_307_307"></a><a href="#Footnote_307_307" class="fnanchor">[307]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">ὑπερθύμου Δολοπίονος, ὅς ῥα Σκαμάνδρου</div> - <div class="verse">ἀρητὴρ ἐτέτυκτο, θεὸς δ’ ὣς τίετο δήμῳ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>This is entirely in keeping, as to particulars, with -the Pelasgian and Trojan institutions. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητὴρ</span> of -Homer is apparently always the priest. Dolopion was a -man in very high station and honour, like the priests of -Rome, and of early Ætolia<a name="FNanchor_308_308" id="FNanchor_308_308"></a><a href="#Footnote_308_308" class="fnanchor">[308]</a>; but not like those of later -Greece. And he had been ‘made’ or ‘appointed’ priest; -as Theano was chosen to be priestess by the people. -The priesthood of the Homeric age never appears as a -caste in these latitudes. The only approximation to -caste is in the gift of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span>, which, as we find from -the Odyssey, was hereditary in the family of Melampus<a name="FNanchor_309_309" id="FNanchor_309_309"></a><a href="#Footnote_309_309" class="fnanchor">[309]</a>. -Thus far, then, the evidence respecting Scamander certainly -would appear to belong to the category of Homer’s -historical statements.</p> - -<p>Beyond this, everything assumes a figurative stamp. -Scamander fights as a deity with Achilles, and his waters -are so powerful that they can only be subdued by the -immediate action of the god of fire. The hero, too, is -aided by the powerful blasts of Zephyr and of Notus, -whom Juno rouses up to scorch the Trojans<a name="FNanchor_310_310" id="FNanchor_310_310"></a><a href="#Footnote_310_310" class="fnanchor">[310]</a>. As we can -hardly doubt, that the plague in the First Book represents -some form of marsh-fever, so here it appears likely -that the Poet takes very skilful advantage of a flood, -caused by summer rains, which had annoyed the -Greeks, and which had been followed by the subsidence -of the waters upon the return of hot weather.</p> - -<p>Scamander is very great in the Iliad, but with a -purely local greatness. As a person, he speaks both to -men and to gods. He addresses Simois as his beloved -brother; but it is entirely on the affair of the deluge -and the heat. Though he takes part in the war, the -distinction is not awarded to him of being a member of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -the smaller and select Olympian community: he merely -stands included by presumption in the general category -of Rivers<a name="FNanchor_311_311" id="FNanchor_311_311"></a><a href="#Footnote_311_311" class="fnanchor">[311]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Worship of Scamander.</i></div> - -<p>We have a description from the mouth of Achilles -of certain sacrifices, as belonging to the worship of -Scamander<a name="FNanchor_312_312" id="FNanchor_312_312"></a><a href="#Footnote_312_312" class="fnanchor">[312]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ ὑμῖν ποταμός περ ἐΰῤῥοος ἀργυροδίνης</div> - <div class="verse">ἀρκέσει, ᾧ δὴ δηθὰ πολέας ἱερεύετε ταύρους,</div> - <div class="verse">ζωοὺς δ’ ἐν δίνῃσι καθίετε μώνυχας ἵππους.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This offering of live horses is peculiar, and unlike -anything else represented to us in the Homeric poems. -Not only the youths, but even the dogs, whom Achilles -offers to the Shade of Patroclus, are slain before they -are cast into the fire. The same thing is not mentioned -with respect to the four horses, who are also among -the victims; but it is probably, even from the physical -necessities of the case, to be presumed.</p> - -<p>It may, perhaps, be argued, that this speech of Achilles -partakes of the nature of a sarcasm. The fine Trojan -horses were reared and pastured on the river banks; -taunts often pass between the warriors of the two -sides: the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δὴ δηθὰ</span> may have had the force of <i>forsooth</i>. -Some doubt may attach to the evidence, which the -passage gives, on this ground; and also from the singularity -of the practice that is imputed. It is, on the -whole, however, safest to assume that it is trustworthy.</p> - -<p>The case will then stand thus; that we have apparently -one single case in Troy of a pure local impersonation -of a power belonging to external nature. -Now this might happen under peculiar circumstances, -and yet a very broad distinction might subsist between -the religion of the two nations as to imaginative development.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<p>Scamander was indeed a great power for the Trojans; -it was the great river of the country, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέγας ποταμὸς -βαθυδίνης</span>. The child of the great Hector was named -by him Scamandrius, while Simoeisius<a name="FNanchor_313_313" id="FNanchor_313_313"></a><a href="#Footnote_313_313" class="fnanchor">[313]</a> was the son of a -very insignificant person. Another Scamandrius was a -distinguished huntsman, taught by Diana, in a country -where the accomplishment was rare<a name="FNanchor_314_314" id="FNanchor_314_314"></a><a href="#Footnote_314_314" class="fnanchor">[314]</a>. His floods, however -useful in time of war, would in time of peace do -fearful damage. It is possibly the true explanation of -the last among the lines quoted from the speech of -Achilles, that he carried away, in sudden <i>spates</i>, many -of the horses that were pastured on his banks. The -Trojans, then, may have had strong motives for deifying -Scamander, and particularly for providing him with -a priest, who might beseech him to keep down his -waters. And it will be remembered, from the case of -Gaia, that the Trojan religion was, without doubt, -favourable to the idea of purely elemental deities: -what lacked was the vivid force of fancy, that revelled -in profuse multiplication.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Different view of Rivers in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>For we cannot fail to perceive, that the idea of a -river-god did not enter into the Trojan as it did into -the Greek life. Ulysses, when in difficulty, at once invokes -the aid of the Scherian river<a name="FNanchor_315_315" id="FNanchor_315_315"></a><a href="#Footnote_315_315" class="fnanchor">[315]</a>, at whose mouth -he lands. Now the Trojans are driven in masses into -the Scamander by the terrible pursuit of Achilles, and -they hide and sculk, or come forth and fight, about its -banks and waters. Yet no one of them invokes the -River, although that River was a deity contending on -their side. So entirely was he without place in their -consciousness as a power able to help, even though he -may have been publicly worshipped in deprecation of a -calamity, which he was known to be able to inflict.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> - -<p>With this remarkable silence we may compare, besides -the prayer and thanksgiving of Ulysses, the invocation -of Achilles to Spercheius<a name="FNanchor_316_316" id="FNanchor_316_316"></a><a href="#Footnote_316_316" class="fnanchor">[316]</a>. On his leaving home, -his father Peleus had dedicated his hair as an offering -to be made to the River on his return, and to be accompanied -by a hecatomb. This would have been a thank-offering; -and as such, in accordance with the prayer of -Ulysses, it implies the power of the River deity to -confer benefits. Nor is that power rendered doubtful -by the fact, that in the particular case the prayer is not -fulfilled, and that the hair is therefore devoted to the remains -of Patroclus. We may remark, again, the sacrifice -offered, apparently almost as matter of course, by the -Pylian army to Alpheus, on their merely reaching his -banks<a name="FNanchor_317_317" id="FNanchor_317_317"></a><a href="#Footnote_317_317" class="fnanchor">[317]</a>. And, as a whole, the multitudinous impersonations -of natural objects in the Greek mythology are, -both with Homer and in the later writers, of a benign -and genial character. This bright and sunny aspect is -in contrast with the formidable character of Scamander, -and of the worship offered to him.</p> - -<p>There is, perhaps, enough of resemblance between -the Scamander of the Trojan mythology, and the Spercheus -or Alpheus of the Greek, to suggest the question, -whether the deification of this river may possibly have -been due to the Hellic influences, which resided in the -royal houses of the country. There are not wanting signs, -that the family of Priam was closely connected with -the river and its banks. The name given to Hector’s -child is one such token; and we know that the mares -of Erichthonius were fed upon the marshes near Scamander<a name="FNanchor_318_318" id="FNanchor_318_318"></a><a href="#Footnote_318_318" class="fnanchor">[318]</a>. -It is also worth observation that the Priest of -Scamander was called Dolopion, while Dolops was the -name of a son of Lampus, a Trojan of the highest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -rank, brother to Priam, and one of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span> of -Troy<a name="FNanchor_319_319" id="FNanchor_319_319"></a><a href="#Footnote_319_319" class="fnanchor">[319]</a>.</p> - -<p>But though there may be a special relation between -the worship of Scamander, and the influence of the -royal family, I think the explanation is chiefly to be -sought in the specific differences which separate it from -River-worship, as generally conceived in the Olympian -system.</p> - -<p>There is another aspect of River-worship in Greece, -with which it seems to have more affinity. There is -the terrible adjuration of Styx, which implies its -vindictive agency<a name="FNanchor_320_320" id="FNanchor_320_320"></a><a href="#Footnote_320_320" class="fnanchor">[320]</a>. This river is represented on earth -by a branch from itself, called Titaresius, near the Perrhæbian -Dodona<a name="FNanchor_321_321" id="FNanchor_321_321"></a><a href="#Footnote_321_321" class="fnanchor">[321]</a>. The Rivers are expressly invoked, -in this character, by Agamemnon in the adjuration of -the Pact: and are associated with the deities that -punish perjury after death. Moreover, it is curious -that, when Agamemnon makes an adjuration before -Greeks alone, he omits the appeal to the Rivers, whom -he had named when he was acting for the two peoples -jointly<a name="FNanchor_322_322" id="FNanchor_322_322"></a><a href="#Footnote_322_322" class="fnanchor">[322]</a>. This seems to show that the invocation of -Rivers, or of some class of Rivers, in a retributive capacity, -was familiar, and may have been peculiar, to the -Trojans.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>True aspect of Trojan River-worship.</i></div> - -<p>In effect, then, the grand distinction seems to be this. -The worship of Scamander in Troas belonged to the -elemental system and earth-worship, which the Greeks, -for the purposes of their Olympus, had refined away -into a poetical vivifying Power, replete with more bland -influences: retaining it, more or less, for the purpose of -adjuration, in the darker and sterner sense. Accordingly, -while Scamander, who is also called Xanthus, has,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -as a god, a mark of antiquity in the double name<a name="FNanchor_323_323" id="FNanchor_323_323"></a><a href="#Footnote_323_323" class="fnanchor">[323]</a>, he -shows none of the Greek anthropophuistic ingredients. -Even for speech and action, he does not take the human -form; but he is, simply and strictly, the element alive.</p> - -<p>The species of deification, implied in earth-worship, -scarcely lifted the objects of it in any degree out of the -sphere of purely material conceptions. Thus, while -Scamander, from his superior power, is no more than -Nature put in action, all the other Rivers of Troas exhibit -to us Nature purely passive, a blind instrument -in the hand of deity. The total silence and inaction -of Simois<a name="FNanchor_324_324" id="FNanchor_324_324"></a><a href="#Footnote_324_324" class="fnanchor">[324]</a>, after the appeal of Scamander, makes his -impersonality more conspicuous, than if he had not been -addressed. Again, when the Greeks have quitted the -country, Apollo takes up the streams of the eight rivers -that descend from Ida, including great Scamander, like -so many firemen’s hose, and turns them upon the rampart -to destroy it. We have no example in Homer of -this mechanical mode of handling Greek rivers.</p> - -<p>The distinction of treatment seems to be due to a -difference in the mythology of the two countries as its -probable source. And I find an analogous method of -proceeding with reference to the Winds. In the Iliad -they are deities, addressed in prayer, and capable of -receiving offerings. In the Odyssey they are mere -senseless instruments of nature, under the control of -Æolus. But then in the Iliad Homer deals with them for -a Greek purpose (for I do not except the impersonation -of Boreas, Il. xx. 203, where the Dardanid family -is concerned): it is Achilles who prays to them: it is -the Greek war-horse that they beget. In the Odyssey -he introduces them amidst a system of foreign, that is -to say, of Phœnician traditions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<p>Turning now to other objects, let us next see whether -further inquiry will confirm the suggestions, which I -have founded on the cases of Gaia and of Scamander.</p> - -<p>At the head of Scamander are two fountains, and -hard by them are the cisterns, which the women of the -city frequent for washing clothes. Thus the spot is one -of great notoriety; yet there is not a word of any -deity connected with these fountains. This is in remarkable -contrast with what we meet in Homer’s Greek topography. -Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_325_325" id="FNanchor_325_325"></a><a href="#Footnote_325_325" class="fnanchor">[325]</a>, immediately on being aware that he -has been disembarked in Ithaca, prays to the Nymphs of -the grotto, which was dedicated to them. There they -had their bowls and vases, and their distaffs of stone, -with which they spun yarn of sea-purple<a name="FNanchor_326_326" id="FNanchor_326_326"></a><a href="#Footnote_326_326" class="fnanchor">[326]</a>. And the -harbour, in which he was landed, was the harbour of -Phorcys, the old man of the sea<a name="FNanchor_327_327" id="FNanchor_327_327"></a><a href="#Footnote_327_327" class="fnanchor">[327]</a>. So again at the -fountain, where the people of the town drew water, -there was an altar of the Nymphs that presided over it, -upon which all the passers-by habitually made offerings<a name="FNanchor_328_328" id="FNanchor_328_328"></a><a href="#Footnote_328_328" class="fnanchor">[328]</a>. -Nor could this be wonderful, as all groves, all -fountains, all meadows, and probably all mountains, had -their proper indwelling Nymphs according to the -Greek mythology; while the Rivers were impersonated -as deities, and the sea too teemed at every point with -preternatural life.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Trojan impersonations from Nature rare.</i></div> - -<p>Homer has named many, besides Scamander, of the -rivers of Mount Ida; but to none, not even to Simois, -nor again to Ida or Gargarus themselves, does he assign -any of these local inhabitants.</p> - -<p>There are, however, three curious cases of Nymphs -assigned by him to Troas. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νύμφη νηῒς</span>, called Abarbaree, -bears two sons to Bucolion<a name="FNanchor_329_329" id="FNanchor_329_329"></a><a href="#Footnote_329_329" class="fnanchor">[329]</a>, a spurious child of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -Laomedon; and another nymph of the same class bears -Satnius to Enops<a name="FNanchor_330_330" id="FNanchor_330_330"></a><a href="#Footnote_330_330" class="fnanchor">[330]</a>. A third similar case is recorded in -the Twentieth Book<a name="FNanchor_331_331" id="FNanchor_331_331"></a><a href="#Footnote_331_331" class="fnanchor">[331]</a>. These would appear to be -simple cases of spurious births, and to have no proper -connection with mythology. For the mother of Satnius -is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀμύμων</span>; a name never applied by Homer -to the Immortals. If, however, the Nymphs be deities, -they mark another difference between Greece and Troy: -for Homer never attributes lusts to the Nymphs of the -Greek Olympus.</p> - -<p>Amidst the whole detail of the Iliad, in one instance -only have we Trojan Nymphs conceived after the Greek -fashion: it is when those of the mountains, according -to the speech of Andromache, planted elms round about -the fresh-made tomb of her father Eetion.</p> - -<p>As a general rule, no Trojan refers in speech either -to any legend, or to any intermediate order, of supernatural -beings. Destiny, named by Hecuba, is, as we -have seen, a metaphysical idea, rather than a person<a name="FNanchor_332_332" id="FNanchor_332_332"></a><a href="#Footnote_332_332" class="fnanchor">[332]</a>.</p> - -<p>The very name of Olympus itself is a symbol of nationality; -and around it are grouped the forms, which -either the popular belief, or the imagination of the -Poet, incorporated into the company of objects for -worship. They form a body wonderfully brilliant and -diversified. They pervade the Greek mind in such a -way, as to appear alike in its didactic, and its most -deeply pathetic moods. The speech of Phœnix gives us -the Parable of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἄτη</span> and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Λιταί</span>: then the episode -of Meleager, which is founded on the wrath of Diana: -but into this legend itself, inserted into the speech, is -again interpolated the separate legend of Apollo and -Alcyone<a name="FNanchor_333_333" id="FNanchor_333_333"></a><a href="#Footnote_333_333" class="fnanchor">[333]</a>. The speech of Agamemnon, in the Nine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>teenth -Book, affords us another example<a name="FNanchor_334_334" id="FNanchor_334_334"></a><a href="#Footnote_334_334" class="fnanchor">[334]</a>. The case is -the same in the most pathetic strains. Achilles, in -the interview with Priam, exhorts him to take food by -the example of Niobe, and appends her tale<a name="FNanchor_335_335" id="FNanchor_335_335"></a><a href="#Footnote_335_335" class="fnanchor">[335]</a>: Penelope, -praying to Diana in the extremity of her grief, -recites the tale of the daughters of Pandareus<a name="FNanchor_336_336" id="FNanchor_336_336"></a><a href="#Footnote_336_336" class="fnanchor">[336]</a>. Even -the Suitor Antinous points his address to Ulysses with the -semi-divine legend of the Centaurs and Lapithæ<a name="FNanchor_337_337" id="FNanchor_337_337"></a><a href="#Footnote_337_337" class="fnanchor">[337]</a>. Everywhere, -and from all the receptacles of thought, mythology -overflows. But in Troy the case is quite different. -There the human mind never seems to resort to it, -either for food or in sport. We find deities, priests, -prophets, ceremonial, all apparently in abundance: in -all of these, except the first, the Greeks are much -poorer; but each of them, in and for himself, is in contact -with an entire supernatural world, the creation of -luxuriant and energetic fancy, which ranges alike over -the spheres of sense and of metaphysics. Andromache, -virtuous and sincere as Penelope, has no such mental -wealth; her thoughts, and those of Hecuba and Priam, -both ordinarily and also on the death of Hector, are -limited to topics the most obvious and primitive, with -which society, however undeveloped, is familiar. From -this limitation, and from the nature of those legends -respecting deities, of which the scene is laid in Troas, -it seems reasonable to believe that the mythological -dress is of purely Hellenic origin.</p> - -<p>The dedication to Jupiter of the lofty and beautiful -chestnut-tree<a name="FNanchor_338_338" id="FNanchor_338_338"></a><a href="#Footnote_338_338" class="fnanchor">[338]</a> near Troy, is in correspondence with the -oak of Dodona, and indicates quite a different train -of thought from those which conceived the Greek -Olympus. It is probably both a fragment of nature-worship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -in its Oriental form, and likewise a portion of -the external and ritual development, in which the -religion of Troy was evidently prolific enough. And in -this case the negative evidence of Homer is especially -strong; because the great number of the particular -spots on the plain of Troy, which he has had occasion -to commemorate, constitute a much more minute topography -there, than he has given us on any other scene, -not even excepting Ithaca: so that he could hardly -have avoided showing us, had it been the fact, that the -religion of Troy entered largely into what Mr. Grote -has so well called ‘the religious and personal interpretation -of nature.’</p> - -<p>Next as to those divine persons of the second order, -who are so abundantly presented to us by Homer in -relations with the Greeks. Iris visits the Trojans thrice. -First, she repairs to their Assembly in the form of -Polites. Secondly, she appears to Helen, as her sister-in-law -Laodice. She delivers her message to Priam in -the Twenty-fourth Book without disguise; perhaps because -it was necessary<a name="FNanchor_339_339" id="FNanchor_339_339"></a><a href="#Footnote_339_339" class="fnanchor">[339]</a> that he should have the assistance -of a deity seen and heard, in order to embolden -him for a seemingly desperate enterprise. But there is -nothing in his account of the interview, which requires -us to suppose that the person Iris was known to -Priam. The expression he uses is<a name="FNanchor_340_340" id="FNanchor_340_340"></a><a href="#Footnote_340_340" class="fnanchor">[340]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτὸς γὰρ ἄκουσα θεοῦ καὶ ἐσέδρακον ἄντην.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And again, he calls her an Olympian messenger<a name="FNanchor_341_341" id="FNanchor_341_341"></a><a href="#Footnote_341_341" class="fnanchor">[341]</a> from -Jupiter. Another passage carries the argument a point -further, by showing us that the appearance of this -benignant deity was alarming, doubtless because it was -strange, to him. When she arrives, she addresses him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -very softly <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τυτθὸν φθεγξαμένη</span> (170): but he is seized -with dread;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τὸν δὲ τρόμος ἔλλαβε γυῖα·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>an emotion, which I do not remember to have found -recorded on any apparition of a divinity to a Greek -hero.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Poverty of Trojan Mythology.</i></div> - -<p>Thus far then it would appear probable, that in the -Trojan mythology the list of major deities was more -contracted than in Greece, and that the minor deities -were almost unknown. But perhaps the most marked -difference between the two systems is in the copious -development on the Greek side of the doctrine of a -future state, compared with the jejune and shadowy -character of that belief among the Trojans.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Jejune doctrine of a Future State.</i></div> - -<p>In the narrative of the sack of Hypoplacian Thebes, -and again in her first lament over Hector, Andromache -does indeed speak of her husband, father, and brothers, -respectively, as having entered the dwellings of -Aides<a name="FNanchor_342_342" id="FNanchor_342_342"></a><a href="#Footnote_342_342" class="fnanchor">[342]</a>. But these references are slight, and it may -almost be said perfunctory. Not another word is said -either in the Twenty-second Book, or in the whole of -the Twenty-fourth, about the shade of Hector.</p> - -<p>When Pope closed his Iliad with the line</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">And peaceful slept the mighty Hector’s shade,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>it probably did not occur to him, that he was not -merely altering the poetry of Homer, but falsifying -also his picture of the Trojan religion; which had -indeed its funeral rites, but so described as to leave us -no means of concluding, that they were in any degree -directed to procuring the comfort and tranquillity of -the dead. The silence observed about the spirit of -Hector is remarkable from the contrast with the case<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -of Patroclus. Both are mourned for passionately, by -those who love them best: but the shade of Patroclus -is the great figure in the mourning of Achilles, while -Hector’s existence after death is but once owned, faintly -and in the abstract. Nor, as we see from the Odyssey, -was this homage to the shade of Patroclus a thing -occasional or accidental. We there meet the souls of -all the great departed of the War, in the under-world. -That region, opened to Ulysses, had formerly been -opened to Hercules. Even the dissolute Suitors cannot -be dismissed from life, without our being called to -accompany their spirits past the Leucadian rock to the -place of their destination. The warriors slain in battle -with the Cicones are thrice invoked by the survivors<a name="FNanchor_343_343" id="FNanchor_343_343"></a><a href="#Footnote_343_343" class="fnanchor">[343]</a>. -Nay Elpenor himself, most insignificant of men, is duly -brought before us in his last home<a name="FNanchor_344_344" id="FNanchor_344_344"></a><a href="#Footnote_344_344" class="fnanchor">[344]</a>.</p> - -<p>We are, however, enabled to open another chapter -of evidence, that bears upon this interesting subject. It -is obtained through the medium of the oaths of the -two nations respectively.</p> - -<p>Displacing the elemental powers from their ordinary -religion, the Greeks made them gaolers, as it were, of -the under-world, and gave them this for their proper -business. Hence they are paraded freely in the Greek -oaths<a name="FNanchor_345_345" id="FNanchor_345_345"></a><a href="#Footnote_345_345" class="fnanchor">[345]</a>. Agamemnon before the Pact invokes, with Jupiter, -the Sun, the Rivers, the Earth, the infernal gods. -In the Nineteenth book, the same; omitting however -the Rivers, and naming, instead of simply describing, -the Erinües<a name="FNanchor_346_346" id="FNanchor_346_346"></a><a href="#Footnote_346_346" class="fnanchor">[346]</a>. In the Fourteenth Iliad, Juno apparently -swears by Styx, Earth, Sea, and the infernal -gods<a name="FNanchor_347_347" id="FNanchor_347_347"></a><a href="#Footnote_347_347" class="fnanchor">[347]</a>. In the Fifteenth, by Earth, Heaven, Styx, the -head of Jupiter, and their marriage bed<a name="FNanchor_348_348" id="FNanchor_348_348"></a><a href="#Footnote_348_348" class="fnanchor">[348]</a>. Calypso<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -swears, for the satisfaction of Ulysses, and according to -his fashion as the <i>imponens</i>, by Earth, Heaven, and -Styx<a name="FNanchor_349_349" id="FNanchor_349_349"></a><a href="#Footnote_349_349" class="fnanchor">[349]</a>. Thus the Greeks made an effective use of -these earthy and material divinities, in connection with -their large development of the Future State, by installing -them as the official punishers of perjury. Now the -Trojans appear, from what we have seen, to have worshipped -this class of deities; but as super-terranean, not -as sub-terranean gods. Had they not been <i>thus</i> worshipped -at the least, Agamemnon could not have included -them in the Invocation of the Pact, where he had to -act and speak for both nations<a name="FNanchor_350_350" id="FNanchor_350_350"></a><a href="#Footnote_350_350" class="fnanchor">[350]</a>. And while we see they -sacrificed lambs to Earth and Sun, still we have a -curious proof that these deities were not worshipped in -Troy as avengers of perjury. For when in the Tenth -Book Hector swears to Dolon, he invokes no divinity, -except Jupiter the loud-thundering husband of Juno. -There may, as we have seen here, be a faint reference -to the earthy character of the Trojan Juno; but there -is no well-developed system, which uses a particular -order of powers for the punishment of perjurors in a -future state. We can hardly doubt that this was primarily -because the doctrine of the Future State was -wanting in deep and practical roots, so far as we can -see, among the Trojans. A materializing religion seems -essentially hostile to the full development of such a -doctrine. And it is not a little curious to find that in -this same country, where the oath was less solemn -than in Greece, and the life after death less a subject -of practical and energetic belief, perjury and breach of -faith should have been, as we shall find they were, so -much more lightly regarded.</p> - -<p>For the sake of realizing to ourselves the contrast<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -between the religious system of Troy, as we thus at -least by glimpses seem to perceive it, and the wonderful -imaginative richness of the preternatural system of -the Greeks as exhibited in Homer, it may be well to -point briefly to a few cases, which are the more illustrative, -because they are the accessories, and not the main -pillars of the system. Take, then, the personifications -of all the forms of Terror in the train of Mars: the -transport, by Sleep and Death, of the body of Sarpedon -to his home; the tears of blood wept by Jupiter; -the agitation of the sea in sympathy with Neptune’s -warlike parade; the dread of Aidoneus lest the crust -of earth should give way under the tramp of the gods -in battle; the mourning garb of Thetis for the friend -of her son’s youth; the long train of Nymphs, rising -from the depths of the sea to accompany her, when she -mounts to visit the sorrowing Achilles; the redundant -imagery of the nether world; the inimitable tact with -which he preserves the identity of his great chieftains -when visited below, but presents each under a deep -tint of sadness. All this makes us feel not only that -war, policy, and poetry, are indissolubly blended in the -great mind of Homer, and of his race, but that the -harmonious association of all these with the Olympian -religion was the work of a vivifying imagination, which -was a peculiar and splendid part of their inheritance.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Worship from the hills.</i></div> - -<p>There is a more marked trace in the Trojan worship, -than is to be found among the Greeks, of the practice -of the Persian; who paid homage to the Deity,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">To loftiest heights ascending, from their tops,</div> - <div class="verse">With myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brow<a name="FNanchor_351_351" id="FNanchor_351_351"></a><a href="#Footnote_351_351" class="fnanchor">[351]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For Hector offered to Jupiter sometimes (which may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -be referred to a different cause) on the highest ground -of the city, sometimes on the tops of Ida<a name="FNanchor_352_352" id="FNanchor_352_352"></a><a href="#Footnote_352_352" class="fnanchor">[352]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ἴδης ἐν κορυφῇσι πολυπτύχου, ἀλλότε δ’ αὖτε</div> - <div class="verse">ἐν πόλει ἀκροτάτῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>At all events we may say, that the only sign remaining -in Greece of this principle of worship, was one common -to it with Troy, and seen in the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑψίζυγος</span> -applied to Jupiter, as well as in the association between -the seats of the gods, and the highest mountains.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the religion of the Trojans appears -to have abounded more in positive observance -and hierarchical development, than that of the Greeks.</p> - -<p>This subject may be considered with reference to the -several subjects of</p> - -<p> -1. Temples.<br /> -2. Endowments (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τεμένεα</span>).<br /> -3. Groves.<br /> -4. Statues.<br /> -5. Seers or Prophets.<br /> -6. The Priesthood.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Troy and Greece as to Temples.</i></div> - -<p>It has been debated, whether the Greeks of the -Homeric age had yet begun to erect temples to the -gods.</p> - -<p>The only case of a temple, distinctly and expressly -mentioned as existing in Greece, is in the passage of -the Catalogue respecting the Athenians, on which -there hangs a slight shade of doubt. But another passage, -though it does not contain the word, seems to -be conclusive as to the thing. It is that where Achilles -mentions treasures, which lie within the stony threshold -of Apollo at Pytho<a name="FNanchor_353_353" id="FNanchor_353_353"></a><a href="#Footnote_353_353" class="fnanchor">[353]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ ὅσα λάϊνος οὐδὸς ἀφήτορος ἐντὸς ἐέργει,</div> - <div class="verse">Φοίβου Ἀπόλλωνος, Πυθοῖ ἔνι πετρήεσσῃ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Though there may have been treasuries which were not -temples, they could hardly have been treasuries of the -gods: for in what sense could treasures be placed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -under their special protection, unless by being deposited -in places which were peculiarly theirs?</p> - -<p>In the Odyssey, Eurylochus promises to build a temple -to the Sun, on getting safe to Ithaca<a name="FNanchor_354_354" id="FNanchor_354_354"></a><a href="#Footnote_354_354" class="fnanchor">[354]</a>; and Nausithous<a name="FNanchor_355_355" id="FNanchor_355_355"></a><a href="#Footnote_355_355" class="fnanchor">[355]</a>, -the father of Alcinous, built temples of the -gods in Scheria. Now Scheria was not Greece; yet it -was more akin to Greece than to Troy.</p> - -<p>It is, on the other hand, observable that, though -under these circumstances we can hardly deny that -temples existed among the Greeks, yet we have no -case in Homer of a temple actually erected to a purely -Hellic deity.</p> - -<p>Our clear instances are, in fact, confined to the temples -of Minerva at Troy and Athens, and the temples of -Apollo at Troy, Chryse<a name="FNanchor_356_356" id="FNanchor_356_356"></a><a href="#Footnote_356_356" class="fnanchor">[356]</a>, and Pytho: and when we see -old Nestor performing solemn sacrifice in the open air -at Pylos, himself, too, a reputed grandchild of Neptune, -we cannot suppose that it was usual with the -Hellenes to worship Hellenic gods in temples. It is -possible, though I would not presume to say more, that -Apollo and Minerva may have been the only deities to -whom it was usual in that age to erect temples, whether -in Greece or Troy.</p> - -<p>I must not, however, presume to dismiss this subject -without noticing the line, Od. vi. 266;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἔνθα δέ τέ σφ’ ἀγορὴ, καλὸν Ποσιδήϊον ἄμφις.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This verse is often interpreted as ‘the place of assembly -round about the beautiful temple of Neptune.’ So -Eustathius<a name="FNanchor_357_357" id="FNanchor_357_357"></a><a href="#Footnote_357_357" class="fnanchor">[357]</a>: so one of the scholiasts: the other interprets -it to mean a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span> only. Nitzsch, Terpstra<a name="FNanchor_358_358" id="FNanchor_358_358"></a><a href="#Footnote_358_358" class="fnanchor">[358]</a> and -Crusius take it for a temple. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ποσιδήϊον</span> -without a substantive is a form found nowhere else in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -Homer: so that we have only the aid of reason to interpret -it. Now, this <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> was the place of the public -assemblies for business. It is surely improbable, that -there could have been a roofed temple in the midst of -it, which would interrupt both sight and hearing. On -the other hand, we know that before Troy the altars -were in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of the camp<a name="FNanchor_359_359" id="FNanchor_359_359"></a><a href="#Footnote_359_359" class="fnanchor">[359]</a>: and this would cause -no inconvenience. It would seem then, that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ποσιδήϊον</span> -means not a covered temple, but a consecrated spot, in -all likelihood inclosed, on which an altar stood.</p> - -<p>I would not, however, argue absolutely upon the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηὸν</span>, in cases where it is found without a word -signifying to construct, or other signs marking it as a -building. For its resemblance to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νήϊον</span> raises the question, -whether it may not originally have meant the -consecrated land which passed under the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>. -If so, it may have had this sense in a passage -like that of the Catalogue; where the epithet joined -to it (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑῷ ἐνὶ πίονι νηῷ</span>) is one more suitable to the idea of -a piece of ground, than of a temple; though applicable -by Homeric usage to the latter too, and though sufficiently -supported by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάλα πίονος ἐξ ἀδύτοιο</span>. (Il. v. 512.)</p> - -<p>2. The derivation of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span> is supposed, by some philologists, -to be the same with that of <i>templum</i>. And if -so, there is a marked analogy between this association -and that of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηόν</span> with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νήϊον</span>. Each would seem to indicate -the customs of a race, which had both dedicated lands -and a priesthood, before it began to raise sacred edifices.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to endowments in land.</i></div> - -<p>As respects the endowment in land, which was sometimes -consecrated to the gods, and was called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>, -I presume we must conclude that, wherever such an endowment -was found, there must have been a priesthood -supported by it. For it is difficult to conceive what other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -purpose could have been contemplated, at such a time, -by such an appropriation of land. And again we may -assume that, where the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span> or glebe existed, there -would be if not a temple yet at least an altar, something -which localized the worship in the particular spot.</p> - -<p>It is indeed much more easy to suppose a temple without -a priesthood, than a glebe. And here it is again -remarkable, that we meet with no example in Homer of -a glebe set apart for an exclusively Hellic god.</p> - -<p>The cases of glebes, with which he supplies us, are -these:</p> - -<p>1. Of Ceres, a Pelasgian deity, in Thessaly, Il. ii. -696;</p> - -<p>2. Of Jupiter, on Mount Gargarus in Troas, together -with an altar, Il. viii. 48;</p> - -<p>3. Of Venus, a Pelasgian deity, at Paphos in Cyprus, -with an altar, Od. viii. 362;</p> - -<p>4. Of Spercheius in Thessaly, with an altar, Il. xxiii. -148. As respects this case, we have indeed found, -that the imaginative deification of Nature appears to -have been Hellenic, and not Pelasgian. Still, with the -case of Scamander before us, and considering that we -find the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span> attached to Spercheius in an eminently -Pelasgian district, while there is no example of such -an inheritance for the deities among the Hellic tribes, -it seems most rational to consider the appropriation of -it as belonging to the Pelasgian period, and as having -simply lived over into the Hellenic age.</p> - -<p>3. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span> of Homer appears to be quite different -from the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τέμενος</span>: and to mean rather what we should -call a site for religious worship, as distinguished from an -endowment which, as such, would produce the means -of subsistence. Such places were required by the spirit -of Hellenic religion, as much as by the Pelasgian wor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>ship, -and we find them accordingly disseminated as -follows: we have</p> - -<p>1. In Scheria, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span> of Minerva, Od. vi. 291, 321.</p> - -<p>2. At Ismarus, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span> of Apollo, in which dwelt -Maron the priest, Od. ix. 200.</p> - -<p>3. In Ithaca, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span> of the Nymphs, with an -altar, beside the fountain, where all passers-by offered -sacrifice, Od. xvii. 205-11.</p> - -<p>4. In Ithaca again, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span> of Apollo, where -public sacrifice was performed in the city on his feast-day, -Od. xx. 277, 8.</p> - -<p>5. In Bœotia, Onchestus is called the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄγλαον ἄλσος</span> -of Neptune, Il. ii. 506.</p> - -<p>6. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσεα</span> of Persephone are on the beach beyond -Oceanus, and are composed of poplars and willows, -Od. x. 509.</p> - -<p>7. In the great Assembly of gods before the Theomachy, -all the Nymphs are summoned, who inhabit -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσεα</span> as well as fountains and meadows, Il. xx. 8. But -here the meaning includes any grove, dedicated or not. -And again,</p> - -<p>8. The attendants of Circe are such as inhabit <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσεα</span>, -groves, or fountains, or rivers, Od. x. 350.</p> - -<p>Thus the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσος</span>, when used in the religious sense, -means a grove or clump of trees, sometimes with turf, -or with a fountain; set apart as a place for worship, and -inhabited by a deity or his ministers, yet quite distinct -from a property capable of supporting them. These -clumps appear to be so appropriated more commonly -by Hellenic, than by Pelasgian practice.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to statues of the gods.</i></div> - -<p>4. We will take next the case of statues of the gods.</p> - -<p>In the opinion of Mure, the metaphor which represents -human affairs as resting in the lap of the gods (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεῶν -ἐν γούνασι</span>), gives conclusive evidence that the custom of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -making statues of the deities prevailed among the -Greeks. I do not however see why this particular -figure should bear upon the question, more than any -of the other very numerous representations which treat -them as endowed with various members of the body. -If this evidence be receivable at all, it is overwhelming. -But it is open to some doubt, whether, because -gods are mentally conceived according to the laws of -anthropomorphism, we may therefore assume that they -were also materially represented under the human form.</p> - -<p>We have, I believe, no more than one single piece -of direct evidence on the subject, and it is this; that, -when the Trojan matrons carry their supplication to the -temple of Minerva, together with the offering of a robe, -they deposit it on her knees (Il. vi. 303), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀθηναίης ἐπὶ -γούνασιν ἠϋκόμοιο</span>. This appears to be quite conclusive -as to the existence of a statue of Minerva at Troy: but -it leaves the question entirely open, whether it was an -Hellenic, as well as a Pelasgian, practice thus to represent -the gods.</p> - -<p>It is quite plain, I think, that the practice was not -one congenial or familiar to the mind of Homer. Had -it been so, he surely must have made large poetic use -of it. Whereas on the contrary it is by inference -alone, though certainly by unavoidable inference, from -language which he uses without that intention, that -we become assured even of their existence in his time. -He speaks, indeed, more than once of placing <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγάλματα</span> -in temples, or of suspending them in honour of the -gods<a name="FNanchor_360_360" id="FNanchor_360_360"></a><a href="#Footnote_360_360" class="fnanchor">[360]</a>: but our title to construe this of statues appears -to be wholly conjectural.</p> - -<p>It would seem inexplicable that a poet, who enlarges -with so much power, not only on the Shield of Aga<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>memnon -and the Arms of Achilles, but on the ideal -Ægis of Minerva, the chariot of Juno, the bow of -Apollo, and the metallic handmaids of Vulcan, should -entirely avoid description of the statues of the Olympian -gods, if they were habitually before his eyes.</p> - -<p>I have argued elsewhere that we see in Homer the -Hellenic, not the Pelasgian, mind. And if it be so, -then I think we are justified in associating with his -Hellenism, as one among many signs, this remarkable -silence. The ritual and external development of Pelasgian -religion would delight in statues as visible -signs: the Hellenic idealism would not improbably -eschew them. Hence we may treat this practice of the -period as belonging to Pelasgian peculiarities.</p> - -<p>If this be so, then I think we may pass on to the -conclusion, that the original tendency to produce visible -forms of the Divinity was not owing to, and formed no -part of, the efforts of the human imagination, so largely -developed in Homer, to idealize religion, and to beautify -the world by its imagery. But, on the contrary, -so far as we can judge from Homer, it first prevailed -among a race inclined to material and earthy conceptions -in theology, and from them it spread to others -of higher intelligence. It was a crutch for the lameness -of man, and not a wing for his upward aspirations.</p> - -<p>And indeed, as it appears to me, this proposition is -sustained even by the past experience and present state -of Christendom. When faith was strongest, images were -unknown to the faithful. Nor is it art, which produces -them: it is merely a kind of corporal and mechanical -imitation. No considerable work of art is at this moment, -I believe, in any Christian country, an object of religious -worship. The sentiment which craves for material -representations of such objects in order to worship<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -them, appears also commonly to exact that they should -be somewhat materialized. The higher office of art, -in connection with devout affection, seems to be that -it should point our veneration onwards, not arrest it. -It holds out the finger which we are to follow, not the -hand which we are to kiss.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to Seers or Diviners.</i></div> - -<p>The order of Seers or Diviners was common to -Greeks, Trojans, and probably we may add, from its -being known among the Cyclopes, to all contemporary -races. It is singular that we should find here, and not -among the priesthood, the traces of caste, or the hereditary -descent of the gift. In all other points, this -function stands apart from hierarchical developments. -For the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span>, except as to his gift, is like other men. -Melampus engages to carry off oxen. Polypheides -migrates upon a quarrel with his father. Cleitus is -the lover of Aurora. Theoclymenus has committed -homicide<a name="FNanchor_361_361" id="FNanchor_361_361"></a><a href="#Footnote_361_361" class="fnanchor">[361]</a>. Teiresias is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span>, a lord or prince<a name="FNanchor_362_362" id="FNanchor_362_362"></a><a href="#Footnote_362_362" class="fnanchor">[362]</a>. -We do not know that Calchas fought as well as prophesied, -but it may have been so, since Helenus, the -son of Priam, and Eunomus, the Mysian leader, were -seers or augurs not less than warriors. But the most -instructive specimen of this order among the Greeks is -the Suitor Leiodes<a name="FNanchor_363_363" id="FNanchor_363_363"></a><a href="#Footnote_363_363" class="fnanchor">[363]</a>, who was also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυοσκόος</span>, or inspector -of sacrifices, to the body of Suitors. Now Ulysses had, -in consideration of a ransom, spared Maron the priest -of Apollo at Ismarus<a name="FNanchor_364_364" id="FNanchor_364_364"></a><a href="#Footnote_364_364" class="fnanchor">[364]</a>. But, far from recognising in -the professional character of Leiodes a title to immunity, -he answers the plea with characteristic and deadly -repartee. And this, notwithstanding that Leiodes was, -as we learn, distinguished from the rest of the Suitors -by the general decency of his conduct.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυοσκόος</span> apparently inspected sacrifices, but did -not offer them; for this character is clearly distinguished -in the Iliad<a name="FNanchor_365_365" id="FNanchor_365_365"></a><a href="#Footnote_365_365" class="fnanchor">[365]</a> from that of the priest. Indeed, the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θύειν</span> in Homer appears properly to apply to those -minor offices of sacrifice, which did not involve the -putting to death of victims; as in Il. ix. 219, where, it -may be observed, the function is not performed by the -principal person, but is deputed by Achilles to Patroclus. -The inspection of slain animals would probably -stand in the same category, among divine offices, as the -interpretation of other signs and portents.</p> - -<p>The members of this class are, upon the whole, as -broadly distinguished from the priests in Homer, as -are the prophets of the Old Testament from the Levitical -priesthood.</p> - -<p>They were called by the general name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span>, or -by other names, some of them more limited: such as -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεόπροπος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑποφήτης</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἰωνόπολος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀνειρόπολος</span>. They -sometimes interpreted from signs and omens; sometimes, -as in Il. vi. 86, and vii. 44, without them.</p> - -<p>The diffusion of the gift among the royal house of -Troy, where Polydamas had it as well as Helenus, and -possibly also Hector, is less marked than the great case -of the family of Melampus. The augur was in all -respects a citizen, while possessed of a peculiar endowment: -and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑποφῆται</span><a name="FNanchor_366_366" id="FNanchor_366_366"></a><a href="#Footnote_366_366" class="fnanchor">[366]</a> mentioned in the invocation -of Achilles, whether they were the royal house, or -persons dispersed through the community, evidently -formed a more conspicuous object among the Helli -than we find in any Pelasgian race. Again; in Greece -we find the oracles of Delphi and Delos, as well as of -Dodona; but there is no similar organ for the delivery -of the divine will reported to us in Troy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>As to the Priesthood.</i></div> - -<p>We come now to the last and most important point -connected with the outward development of the religious -system, that of the priesthood: and here I shall -endeavour to describe distinctly the evidence with regard -to both nations. First, let us consider the case -of priesthood as it respects the Greeks.</p> - -<p>We have at least one instance before us in the -Iliad, where a combined religious action of Greeks and -Trojans is presented to us. In the Third Book, Priam -comes from Troy to an open space between the armies, -and meets Agamemnon and Ulysses. The honour of -actually offering the sacrifice is allotted to the Greeks. -No priest appears; and the function is performed by -the King, Agamemnon. It is therefore natural to suppose -that the Greeks have with them in Troas no sacrificing -priest. On every occasion, the Greek Sovereign -offers sacrifice for himself and for the army. So also do -the soldiery<a name="FNanchor_367_367" id="FNanchor_367_367"></a><a href="#Footnote_367_367" class="fnanchor">[367]</a> at large for themselves;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἄλλος δ’ ἄλλῳ ἔρεζε θεῶν αἰειγενετάων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There was an altar<a name="FNanchor_368_368" id="FNanchor_368_368"></a><a href="#Footnote_368_368" class="fnanchor">[368]</a> for the very purpose in the part -of the camp appropriated for Assemblies; a fact which, -though it does not demonstrate, accords with the union -of the regal and sacerdotal functions. Nor can we account -for the absence of priests from the camp, on the -same principle as for that of bards; since poems -were a luxury, but sacrifices a necessity. And we find -Calchas representing the class of religious functionaries -that the Greek nation did acknowledge; namely, the -Seers, who interpreted the divine will, without any -fixed ministry belonging to any particular place, although -the gift was generally derived from Apollo, as -one among his peculiar attributes.</p> - -<p>In the remarkable passage, which enumerates for us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -the principal trades and professions of Greece in the -heroic age<a name="FNanchor_369_369" id="FNanchor_369_369"></a><a href="#Footnote_369_369" class="fnanchor">[369]</a>, we find mentioned the prophet, the physician, -the artificer, the divinely prompted bard; but -not the priest. Yet, had such an order existed, it could -not well, on account of its importance, have been omitted. -For in truth this enumeration is, as we have before -seen, nearly exhaustive, as applied to an age when there -was no professional soldier, when the husbandman, -fisherman, or herd, could not be called a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιοεργὸς</span>, for -he had no relation to the public, and when commerce -was confined to foreigners like the Phœnicians, or -pirates like the Taphians, and formed no part of the -business of the settled communities of Greece.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, in the Legend of Phœnix concerning -Meleager, we have a notice of priests as having -existed at that time in Ætolia. The embassy, which -was sent to conciliate Meleager, consisted of elders and -of the best, or most distinguished, among the priests;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὸν δὲ λίσσοντο γέροντες</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰτωλῶν, πέμπον δὲ θεῶν ἱερῆας ἀρίστους</span>. Il. ix. 574.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now, the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰτωλὸς</span>, I apprehend, indicates an -Hellenic race, for Tydeus is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰτώλιος</span>; and it is worth -notice, that in this passage the elders are called Ætolian, -but not the priests.</p> - -<p>Again, this event took place during the reign of -Œneus, two generations before the Trojan war<a name="FNanchor_370_370" id="FNanchor_370_370"></a><a href="#Footnote_370_370" class="fnanchor">[370]</a>. At -that time the Hellenic influence was quite recent in -Middle and in Southern Greece. The family of Sisyphus -had indeed arrived there at least two generations -before, but it disappeared, and it had never risen to -great power. It was the date of Augeias, of Neleus, -and of Pelops; all of them, apparently, the first of their -respective families in Peloponnesus. So again the name<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -Portheus, assigned to the father of Œneus, probably -marks him as the first Hellenic occupant of the -country.</p> - -<p>Plato observes, that new settlers might naturally -remain for a time without religious institutions<a name="FNanchor_371_371" id="FNanchor_371_371"></a><a href="#Footnote_371_371" class="fnanchor">[371]</a> of -their own.</p> - -<p>The Hellenes, then, had recently come into Ætolia -at the time, and even on this ground were less likely -to have had priests of their own institution. But it is -not to be supposed that, finding a hierarchy among the -Pelasgian tribes, devoted to the worship of such deities -(Minerva and Apollo for example) as they themselves -acknowledged, they would extirpate such a body. The -most probable supposition is, that it would continue in -all cases for a time. The person of Chryses, the priest -of Apollo, was respected, at least for the moment, even -by Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_372_372" id="FNanchor_372_372"></a><a href="#Footnote_372_372" class="fnanchor">[372]</a> in his displeasure. Fearless of his -threats, the injured priest immediately appealed to his -god for aid. We cannot doubt that interests thus defended -would be generally left intact. Still, as priests -were, in the language of political economy, unproductive -labourers, and as they seem to have held their offices -not by descent but by election, we can easily perceive a -road, other than that of violence, to the extinction of the -order among a people that set no store by its services.</p> - -<p>There is yet another place, in which the name is -mentioned among the Greeks. It is in the Assembly -of the First Iliad, held while the plague is raging. -Achilles says, ‘Let us inquire of some prophet, or -priest, or interpreter of dreams (for dreams too are -from Jupiter), who will tell us, why Apollo is so much -exasperated<a name="FNanchor_373_373" id="FNanchor_373_373"></a><a href="#Footnote_373_373" class="fnanchor">[373]</a>.’ But the allusion here seems plainly to -be to Chryses, who had himself visited the camp, and -had appeared with the insignia of his priestly office in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -a previous Assembly of the Greeks<a name="FNanchor_374_374" id="FNanchor_374_374"></a><a href="#Footnote_374_374" class="fnanchor">[374]</a>. Being now in -possession of the whole open country, they of course -had it in their power to consult either him or any -other Trojan priest not within the walls. We cannot, -therefore, argue from this passage, that priesthood was -a recognised Hellenic institution at the period.</p> - -<p>In the Odyssey, we find Menelaus engaged in the -solemn rites of a great nuptial feast; and Nestor in like -manner offering sacrifice to Neptune, his titular ancestor, -in the presence of thousands of the people. In -neither of these cases is there any reference to a priest: -and on the following day Nestor with his sons offers a -new sacrifice, of which the fullest details are given.</p> - -<p>Again, had there been priests among the Homeric -Greeks, it is hardly possible but that we must have -had some glimpse of them in Ithaca, where the order -of the community and the whole course of Greek life -are so clearly laid open.</p> - -<p>An important piece of negative evidence to the same -effect is afforded by the great invocation of Achilles in -the Sixteenth Iliad. It will be remembered, that we -there find the rude highland tribe of the Helli in possession -of the country where Dodona was seated, together -with the worship of the Pelasgian Jupiter; and -themselves apparently exercising the ministry of the -god. Now that ministry was not priesthood, but interpretation; -for they are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑποφῆται</span>, not <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱερῆες</span><a name="FNanchor_375_375" id="FNanchor_375_375"></a><a href="#Footnote_375_375" class="fnanchor">[375]</a>.</p> - -<p>It therefore appears clear, that the Hellenic tribes of -Homer’s day did not acknowledge a professional priesthood -of their own; that there was no priest in the -Greek armament before Troy; that the priest was not -a constituent part of ordinary Greek communities: -and that, if he was any where to be found in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -Homeric times, it was as a relic, and in connection with -the old Pelasgian establishments of the country.</p> - -<p>At a later period, when wealth and splendour had -increased, and when the increased demand for them extended -also to religious rites, the priesthood became a -regular institution of Greece. It is reckoned by Aristotle, -in the Politics, among the necessary elements of -a State; while he seems also to regard it as the natural -employment of those, who are disqualified by age from -the performance of more active duties to the public, -either in war or in council. The priest was, even in -Homer’s time, a distinctly privileged person. Like -other people, he married and had children: but his -burdens were not of the heaviest. He would live well -on sacrifices, and the proceeds of glebe-land: and it is -curious, that Maron the priest had the very best wine of -which we hear in the poems<a name="FNanchor_376_376" id="FNanchor_376_376"></a><a href="#Footnote_376_376" class="fnanchor">[376]</a>. The priest formed no part -of the teaching power of the community, either in this -or in later ages. Döllinger makes the observation<a name="FNanchor_377_377" id="FNanchor_377_377"></a><a href="#Footnote_377_377" class="fnanchor">[377]</a>, that -Plutarch points out as the sources of religious instruction -three classes of men, among whom the priests are -not even included. They are (1) the poets, (2) the -lawgivers, and (3) the philosophers: to whom Dio -Chrysostom adds the painters and sculptors. So that -Isocrates may well observe, that the priesthood is anybody’s -affair. Plato<a name="FNanchor_378_378" id="FNanchor_378_378"></a><a href="#Footnote_378_378" class="fnanchor">[378]</a> in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νόμοι</span> requires his priests, -and their parents too, to be free from blemish and from -crime: but carefully appoints a separate class of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐξηγηταὶ</span>, -to superintend and interpret the laws of religion; -as well as stewards, who are to have charge of the consecrated -property.</p> - -<p>The priest of the heroic age would however appear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -to have slightly shared in the office of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span>, although -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span> had no special concern with the offering -of sacrifice. The inspection of victims would fall to -priests, almost of course, in a greater or a less degree; -and there is some evidence before us, that they were -entitled to interpret the divine will. It is furnished by -the speech of Achilles<a name="FNanchor_379_379" id="FNanchor_379_379"></a><a href="#Footnote_379_379" class="fnanchor">[379]</a>, which appears to imply some -professional capacity of this kind: and, for Troy at least, -by the declaration<a name="FNanchor_380_380" id="FNanchor_380_380"></a><a href="#Footnote_380_380" class="fnanchor">[380]</a> of Priam, who mentions priests -among the persons, that might have been employed to -report to him a communication from heaven.</p> - -<p>We have now seen the case of priesthood among the -Greeks. With the Trojans it is quite otherwise. We -are introduced, at the very beginning of the Iliad, to -Chryses<a name="FNanchor_381_381" id="FNanchor_381_381"></a><a href="#Footnote_381_381" class="fnanchor">[381]</a> the priest (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱερεὺς</span>) of Apollo. In the fifth Iliad -we have a Trojan<a name="FNanchor_382_382" id="FNanchor_382_382"></a><a href="#Footnote_382_382" class="fnanchor">[382]</a>, Dares, who is priest of Vulcan; and -we have also Dolopion, who, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητὴρ</span><a name="FNanchor_383_383" id="FNanchor_383_383"></a><a href="#Footnote_383_383" class="fnanchor">[383]</a> of the Scamander, -filled an office apparently equivalent. Chryses the -priest is also called an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητήρ</span><a name="FNanchor_384_384" id="FNanchor_384_384"></a><a href="#Footnote_384_384" class="fnanchor">[384]</a>; and though, on the -other hand, it was the duty of Leiodes in the Odyssey -to offer<a name="FNanchor_385_385" id="FNanchor_385_385"></a><a href="#Footnote_385_385" class="fnanchor">[385]</a> prayer on behalf of the Suitors, yet he is never -termed <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητήρ</span>. In the Sixth Iliad appears Theano, -wife of Antenor, and priestess of Minerva<a name="FNanchor_386_386" id="FNanchor_386_386"></a><a href="#Footnote_386_386" class="fnanchor">[386]</a>. And in the -Sixteenth, we have Onetor<a name="FNanchor_387_387" id="FNanchor_387_387"></a><a href="#Footnote_387_387" class="fnanchor">[387]</a>, priest of Idæan Jupiter. -Again, while Eumæus in the Odyssey does not recognise -the priest among the Greek professions, but substitutes -the prophet, Priam, on the contrary, in the Twenty-fourth -Iliad, says he would not have obeyed the injunction -to go to the Greek camp if conveyed to him by -any mortal, of such as are in these professions<a name="FNanchor_388_388" id="FNanchor_388_388"></a><a href="#Footnote_388_388" class="fnanchor">[388]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἢ οἳ μάντιές εἰσι, θυοσκόοι, ἢ ἱερῆες</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> -<p>where it might be questioned, whether <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυοσκόος</span> -are different persons, or whether he speaks of the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις θυοσκόος</span>; but in either case it is equally clear -that he names the priest, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱερεὺς</span>, apart from either. The -speech of Mentes, in Od. i. 202, probably suffices to -draw the line between the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span> and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυοσκόος</span>.</p> - -<p>It further appears that among the allies of Troy, as -well as in the country, the priest was known; for in -the Ninth Odyssey we find Maron, son of Euanthes -the priest of Apollo at Ismarus<a name="FNanchor_389_389" id="FNanchor_389_389"></a><a href="#Footnote_389_389" class="fnanchor">[389]</a>, among the Cicones. -The city they inhabited was sacked by Ulysses on his -way from Troy, and on this account we must infer that, -as they were allies of Troy (Il. ii. 846), so likewise they -belonged to the family of Pelasgian tribes.</p> - -<p>To these priests, personally engaged in the service of -the deities, a personal veneration, and an exemption -from military service, appear to have attached, which -were not enjoyed by the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντιες</span>. This is plainly developed -in the case of Chryses. The offence is not that -of carrying off a captive, for there could be no guilt in -the act, as such matters were then considered, but -rather honour: it is the insult offered to Apollo in the -person of his servant, by subjecting his daughter to the -common lot of women of all ranks, including the -highest, that draws down a frightful vengeance on the -army. So, again, the priest never fought; Dolopion, -Dares, and Onetor, all become known to us through -their having sons in the army, whose parentage is mentioned. -And as to the priest Maron, Ulysses says he -was spared from a feeling of awe towards the god, in -whose wooded grove, or portion, he resided<a name="FNanchor_390_390" id="FNanchor_390_390"></a><a href="#Footnote_390_390" class="fnanchor">[390]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὕνεκά μιν σὺν παιδὶ περισχόμεθ’ ἠδὲ γυναικὶ</div> - <div class="verse">ἁζόμενοι· ᾤκει γὰρ ἐν ἄλσεϊ δενδρήεντι</div> - <div class="verse">Φοίβου Ἀπόλλωνος.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> -<p>But it does not appear that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάντις</span>, though he was -endowed with a particular gift, bore, in respect of it, -such a character, as would suffice to separate him from -ordinary civil duties, and to make him, like the priest, -a clearly privileged person.</p> - -<p>Upon the other hand, we should not omit to notice -that we are told in the case of Theano, though she was -of high birth and the wife of Antenor, that she was made -priestess by the Trojan people. The same fact is probably -indicated in the case of Dolopion, who, we are -told, had been made or appointed <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητὴρ</span> to Scamander -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρητὴρ ἐτέτυκτο</span> Il. v. 77). And the appearance of the -sons of priests in the field appears to show, that there -was nothing like hereditary succession in the order; -which was replenished, we may probably conclude, by -selections having the authority or the assent of the public -voice. Thus the body was popularly constituted, and -was in thorough harmony with the national character. -It does not, on that account, constitute a less important -element in the community, but rather the reverse.</p> - -<p>Now, whatever might be the other moral and social -consequences of having in the community an order of -men set apart to maintain the solemn worship of the -gods, it must evidently have exercised a very powerful -influence in the maintenance of abundance and -punctuality in ritual observances. There can be no -doubt, that the priest lived by the altar which he served, -and lived the better in proportion as it was better supplied. -Besides animals, cakes of flour too, and wine, -were necessary for the due performance of his office<a name="FNanchor_391_391" id="FNanchor_391_391"></a><a href="#Footnote_391_391" class="fnanchor">[391]</a>; -and in the case of Maron this wine was so good, that -the priest kept it secret from his servants, and that it -has drawn forth the Poet’s most genial praise<a name="FNanchor_392_392" id="FNanchor_392_392"></a><a href="#Footnote_392_392" class="fnanchor">[392]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἡδὺν, ἀκηράσιον, θεῖον ποτόν·</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> -<p>He was rich too; for he had men and women servants -in his house. So was Dares, the priest of Vulcan<a name="FNanchor_393_393" id="FNanchor_393_393"></a><a href="#Footnote_393_393" class="fnanchor">[393]</a>. -So probably was Dolopion, priest of Scamander; at -any rate his station was a high one; as we see from -the kind of respect paid to him (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεὸς δ’ ὡς τίετο δήμῳ</span>); -and we have another sign in both these cases of the -station of the parents, from the position of the sons in -the army, which is not among the common soldiery -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πληθὺς</span>), but among the notables. The sons of Dares -fight in a chariot; and the name of Hypsenor, son of -Dolopion, by its etymology indicates high birth.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Comparative observance of Sacrifice.</i></div> - -<p>In point of fact the Homeric poems exhibit to us, -together with the existence and influence of a priestly -order, a very marked distinction in respect to sacrifice -between the Trojans and the Greeks: a state of things -in entire conformity with what we might thus expect.</p> - -<p>In no single instance do we hear of a Trojan chief, -who had been niggardly in his banquets to the gods. -Hector<a name="FNanchor_394_394" id="FNanchor_394_394"></a><a href="#Footnote_394_394" class="fnanchor">[394]</a> is expressly praised for his liberality in this -respect by Jupiter, and Æneas by Neptune<a name="FNanchor_395_395" id="FNanchor_395_395"></a><a href="#Footnote_395_395" class="fnanchor">[395]</a>. The -commendation, however, extends to the whole community. -In the Olympian Assembly of the Fourth -Book, Jupiter says that, of all the cities inhabited by -men, Troy is to him the dearest; for there his altar -never lacked the sacrifice, the libation and the savoury -reek, which are the portion of the gods<a name="FNanchor_396_396" id="FNanchor_396_396"></a><a href="#Footnote_396_396" class="fnanchor">[396]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐ γάρ μοί ποτε βωμὸς ἐδεύετο δαιτὸς ἐΐσης,</div> - <div class="verse">λοιβῆς τε κνίσης τε· τὸ γὰρ λάχομεν γέρας ἡμεῖς.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But the Greeks, thus destitute of priests, often fail, -as we might expect, in the regularity of their religious -rites. Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_397_397" id="FNanchor_397_397"></a><a href="#Footnote_397_397" class="fnanchor">[397]</a>, indeed, is in this, as in all the points of -excellence, unimpeachable. But his was not the rule<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -of all. Œneus, two generations before the <i>Troica</i>, -while sacrificing to the other deities, either forgot or -did not think fit (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἢ λάθετ’ ἢ οὐκ ἐνόησεν</span>) to sacrifice to -Diana<a name="FNanchor_398_398" id="FNanchor_398_398"></a><a href="#Footnote_398_398" class="fnanchor">[398]</a>; hence the devastations of the Calydonian boar. -Nor is his the only case in point.</p> - -<p>The account given by Nestor to Telemachus in the -Third Odyssey is somewhat obscure in this particular. -He says that, after the Greeks embarked, the deity -dispersed them; and that then Jupiter ordained the -misfortunes of their return, since they were not all -intelligent and righteous<a name="FNanchor_399_399" id="FNanchor_399_399"></a><a href="#Footnote_399_399" class="fnanchor">[399]</a>. It appears to be here -intimated, that the Greeks in the first flush of victory -forgot the influence of heaven; and that an omission -of the proper sacrifices was the cause of the first -dispersion.</p> - -<p>After they collect again in Troas, the Atreid brothers -differ, as Menelaus proposes to start again, and -Agamemnon to remain, and offer sacrifices in order to -appease Minerva; but, as Nestor adds, the deities are -not so soon appeased. Agamemnon, therefore, seems to -have been too late with his celebration; and Menelaus, -again, to have omitted it altogether.</p> - -<p>The party who side with Menelaus offer sacrifices on -their arrival at Tenedos, seemingly to repair the former -error: but Jupiter is incensed, and causes them to fall -out anew among themselves. A portion of them return -once more to Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_400_400" id="FNanchor_400_400"></a><a href="#Footnote_400_400" class="fnanchor">[400]</a>.</p> - -<p>Menelaus finds his way to Lesbos, and then sails as -far as Malea. Here he encounters a storm, and with -part of his ships he gets to Egypt: where he is again -detained by the deities, because he did not offer up the -proper hecatombs<a name="FNanchor_401_401" id="FNanchor_401_401"></a><a href="#Footnote_401_401" class="fnanchor">[401]</a>. Such remissness is the more re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>markable, -because Menelaus certainly appears to be one -of the most virtuous characters in the Greek host.</p> - -<p>The course, however, of the siege itself affords a -very marked instance, in which the whole body of -the Greeks was guilty of omitting the regular sacrifices -proper to be used in the inauguration of a great undertaking. -In the hasty construction of the trench and -rampart, they apparently forgot the hecatombs<a name="FNanchor_402_402" id="FNanchor_402_402"></a><a href="#Footnote_402_402" class="fnanchor">[402]</a>. Neptune -immediately points out the error in the Olympian -Court; and uses it in aid of his displeasure at a work, -which he thinks will eclipse the wall of Troy, executed -for Laomedon by himself in conjunction with Apollo. -Jupiter forthwith agrees<a name="FNanchor_403_403" id="FNanchor_403_403"></a><a href="#Footnote_403_403" class="fnanchor">[403]</a>, that after the siege he shall -destroy it. And the Poet, returning to the subject at -the commencement of the Twelfth Book, observes that -the work could not last, because it was constructed -without enlisting in its favour the good will of the -Immortals<a name="FNanchor_404_404" id="FNanchor_404_404"></a><a href="#Footnote_404_404" class="fnanchor">[404]</a>. This omission of the Greeks is the more -characteristic and remarkable, because the moment -when they erected the rampart was a moment of apprehension, -almost of distress.</p> - -<p>Thus, then, it appears that, as a nation, the Trojans -were much more given to religious observances of a -positive kind, than the Greeks. They were, like the -Athenians<a name="FNanchor_405_405" id="FNanchor_405_405"></a><a href="#Footnote_405_405" class="fnanchor">[405]</a> at a later epoch, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεισιδαιμονέστεροι</span>. And, -again, as between one Greek and another, there is no -doubt that the good are generally, though not invariably, -scrupulous in this respect, and the bad commonly -careless. Thus much is implied particularly in Od. iii. -131, as well as conclusively shown in the general order -of the Odyssey. But, as between the two nations, we -cannot conceive that the Poet had any corresponding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -intention. Although a more scrupulous formality in -religion marks the Trojans than the Greeks, and -although in itself, and <i>cæteris paribus</i>, this may be the -appropriate sign of piety, yet it is a sign only; as a -sign it may be made a substitute, and, as a substitute, it -becomes the characteristic of Ægisthus and Autolycus, -no less than it is of Eumæus and Ulysses. As between -the two nations, the difference is evidently associated -with other differences in national character and morality. -We must look therefore for broader grounds, -upon which to form an estimate of the comparative -virtue of the two nations, than either the populousness -of Olympus on the one side, or the array of priests and -temples on the other.</p> - -<p>Nowhere do the signs of historic aim in Homer -seem to me more evident, than in his very distinct -delineations of national character on the Greek and the -Trojan part respectively. But this is a general proposition; -and it must be understood with a certain reservation -as to details.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Two modes of handling for Greece and Troy.</i></div> - -<p>It does not appear to me that Homer has studied -the more minute points of consistency in motive and -action among the Trojans of the poem, in the same -degree as among the Greeks. He has (so to speak) -manœuvred them as subsidiary figures, with a view to enhancing -and setting off those in whom he has intended -and caused the principal interest to centre; not so as to -destroy or diminish effects of individual character, but -so as to give to the collective or joint action on the -Trojan side a subordinate and ministerial function in the -machinery of the poem. As Homer sung to Greeks, and -Greeks were his judges and patrons as well as his theme, -nay rather as his heart and soul were Greek, so on the -Greek side the chain of events is closely knit; if its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -direction changes, there is an adequate cause, as in the -vehemence of Achilles, or the vacillation of Agamemnon. -But he did not sing to Trojans; and so, among -the Trojans of the Iliad, there are as it were stitches -dropped in the web, and the connection is much less -carefully elaborated. Thus they acquiesce in the breach -of covenant after the single combat of the Third Book, -although the evident wish among them, independent of -obligation, was for its fulfilment<a name="FNanchor_406_406" id="FNanchor_406_406"></a><a href="#Footnote_406_406" class="fnanchor">[406]</a>. Then in the Fourth -Book, after the treachery of Pandarus, the Trojans not -only do not resent it, but they recommence the fight -while the Greek chiefs are tending the wounded Menelaus<a name="FNanchor_407_407" id="FNanchor_407_407"></a><a href="#Footnote_407_407" class="fnanchor">[407]</a>; -which conduct exhibits, if the phrase may be -permitted, an extravagance of disregard to the obligations -of truth and honour. Hector, in the Sixth Book, -quits the battle field upon an errand, to which it is -hardly possible to assign a poetical sufficiency of cause, -unless we refer it to the readiness which he not unfrequently -shows to keep himself out of the fight. Again, -there is something awkward and out of keeping in his -manner of dealing with the Fabian recommendations of -Polydamas when the crisis approaches. Some of these -he accepts, and some he rejects, without adequate reason -for the difference, except that he is preparing himself as -an illustrious victim for Achilles, and that he must act -foolishly in order that the superior hero, and with him -the poem itself, may not be baulked of their purpose.</p> - -<p>Thus, again, Homer has given us a pretty clear idea -even of the respective ages of the Greek chiefs. It can -hardly be doubted that Nestor stands first, Idomeneus -second, Ulysses third: while Diomed and Antilochus -are the youngest; Ajax and Achilles probably the next. -But as to Paris, Helenus, Æneas, Sarpedon, Poly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>damas, -we find no conclusion as to their respective ages -derivable from the poem.</p> - -<p>Yet though Homer may use a greater degree of -liberty in one case, and a lesser in another, as to the -mode of setting his jewels, he always adheres to the -general laws of truth and nature as they address themselves -to his poetical purpose. Thus there may be reason -to doubt, whether he observed the same rigid topographical -accuracy in dealing with the plain of Troy, as he -has evinced in the Greek Catalogue: but he has used -materials, all of which the region supplied; and he has -arranged them clearly, as a poetic whole, before the -mental eye of those with whom he had to do. Even -so we may be prepared to find that he deals with the -moral as with the material Troas, allowing himself -somewhat more of license, burdening himself with -somewhat less of care. And then we need not be surprised -at secondary or inferential inconsistencies in the -action, as respects the Trojan people, because it has -not been worth his while to work the delineation of -them, in its details, up to his highest standard; yet we -may rely upon his general representations, and we are -probably on secure ground in contemplating all the main -features of Trojan life and character as not less deliberately -drawn, than those of the Greeks. For, in truth, -it was requisite, in order to give full effect among his -countrymen to the Greek portrait, that they should be -able, at least up to a certain point, to compare it with -the Trojan.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Moral superiority of his Greeks.</i></div> - -<p>Regarding the subject from this point of view, I -should say that Homer has, upon the whole, assigned -to the Greeks a moral superiority over the Trojans, -not less real, though less broad and more chequered, -than that which he has given them in the spheres of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -intellectual and of military excellence. But, in all cases -alike, he has pursued the same method of casting the -balance. He eschews the vulgar and commonplace -expedient of a formal award: he decides this and -every other question through the medium of action. -The first thing, therefore, to be done is, to inquire into -the morality of his contemporaries, as it is exhibited -through the main action of the poems.</p> - -<p>It is admitted on all hands that, in the ethical picture -of the Odyssey, the distinctions of right and -wrong are broad, clear, and conspicuous. But the case -of the Iliad is not so simple. The conduct of Paris, -which leads to the war, is so flagrant and vile, and the -conduct of the Greeks in demanding the restoration of -Helen before they resort to force, so just and reasonable, -that it is not unnaturally made matter of surprise -that any war could ever have arisen upon such a subject, -except the war of a wronged and justly incensed -people against mere ruffians, traitors, and pirates. The -Trojans appear at first sight simply as assertors of a -wrong the most gross and aggravated, even in its original -form; their iniquity is further darkened by obstinacy, -and their cause is the cause of enmity to every -law, human and divine. Yet the Greeks do not assume -to themselves, in connection with the cause of -the war, to stand upon a different level of morality: -and the amiable affections, with the sense of humanity, -if not the principles of honour and justice, are exhibited -in the detail of the Iliad as prevailing among the Trojans, -little less than among the Greeks.</p> - -<p>Now, let us first endeavour to clear away some misapprehensions -that simply darken the case: and after -this let us inquire what exhibition Homer has really -given us of the moral sense of the Greeks and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -Trojans respectively, in connection with the crime of -Paris.</p> - -<p>In the first place, something is due to the falsification -by later poets of the Homeric tradition: and to -the reflex affiliation upon Homer of those traits which, -through the influence first of the Cyclic poets, probably -exaggerating the case in order to conceal their relative -want of strength, and then of the tragedians and -Virgil, have come to be taken for granted as genuine -parts of the original portraiture.</p> - -<p>According to the Argument of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κύπρια Ἔπη</span>, as it -has been handed down to us, Paris, having been received -in hospitality by Menelaus, was left by him -under the friendly care of his wife, on his setting out -for Crete. He then corrupted Helen; and induced -her, after being corrupted, to elope with him, and with -the greater part of the moveable goods of Menelaus.</p> - -<p>Upon this tale our ideas have been formed, and, this -being so, we marvel why Homer does not make the -Greeks feel more indignation at a proceeding which -simply combined treachery, robbery, and adultery. As -he prizes so highly the rights of guests, and pitches -their gratitude accordingly, we cannot understand how -he should be so insensible to the grossest imaginable -breach of their obligations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homer’s account of the abduction.</i></div> - -<p>Homer is here made responsible for that which, in -part, he does not tell us, and which is positively, as well -as inferentially, at variance with what he does tell us. -He tells us absolutely, that Helen was not inveigled -into leaving Sparta, but carried off by force: and that -the crime of adultery was committed after, and not before, -her abduction.</p> - -<p>This difference alters the character of the deed of -Paris, in a manner by no means so insignificant ac<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>cording -to the heroic standard of morality, as according -to ours. As it seems plain from Homer’s expression, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁρπάξας</span><a name="FNanchor_408_408" id="FNanchor_408_408"></a><a href="#Footnote_408_408" class="fnanchor">[408]</a>, that Paris carried off Helen in the first instance -by an act of violence, so also it is probable that, -when the first adultery was committed in the island of -Cranae, he was her ravisher much more than her corrupter. -Her offence appears to have consisted mainly -in the mere acceptance, at what precise date we know -not, of the relation thus brought into existence between -them, and in compliances that with the lapse -of time naturally followed, such as the visit to the -Trojan horse. It would have been, however, under all -the circumstances, an act of superhuman rather than -of human virtue, if she had refused, through the long -years of her residence abroad, to recognise Paris as a -husband: and accordingly the light, in which she is -presented to us by the Poet, is that of a sufferer infinitely -more than of an offender<a name="FNanchor_409_409" id="FNanchor_409_409"></a><a href="#Footnote_409_409" class="fnanchor">[409]</a>.</p> - -<p>When we regard Helen from this point of view, we -perceive that Homer’s narrative is at least in perfect -keeping with itself. The Greeks have made war to -avenge the wrongs of Helen not less than those of -Menelaus: nay, Menelaus himself, the keenest of them -all, is keen on her behalf even more than on his own<a name="FNanchor_410_410" id="FNanchor_410_410"></a><a href="#Footnote_410_410" class="fnanchor">[410]</a>. -He regards her as a person stolen from him: and the -Greeks regard Paris only as the robber.</p> - -<p>We have no reason to suppose the Cyprian Epic to be -a trustworthy supplement to the narrative of Homer. -We have seen some important points of discrepancy -from the Iliad. And there are others. For instance, this -poem makes Pollux immortal and Castor only mortal, -while Homer acquaints us in the Iliad with the interment -of both, and in the Odyssey with their restoration<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -on equal terms to an alternate life. It gives Agamemnon -four daughters, the Iliad but three. It brings Briseis -from Pedasus, the Iliad brings her from Lyrnessus. And -there is other matter in the plot, that does not appear -to correspond at all with the modes of Homeric conception<a name="FNanchor_411_411" id="FNanchor_411_411"></a><a href="#Footnote_411_411" class="fnanchor">[411]</a>. -Had Homer told us the same story as the -Cyprian Epic, he would perhaps have made his countrymen -express all the indignation we could desire.</p> - -<p>And now let us consider what is the view taken of -the abduction in the Iliad by the various persons whose -sentiments are made known to us: and how far that -view can be accounted for by the general tone of the -age, or by what was peculiar to the character and institutions -of each people respectively.</p> - -<p>Helen herself nowhere utters a word of attachment -or of respect to Paris. Even of his passions she appears -to have been the reluctant, rather than the willing instrument. -She thinks alike meanly of his understanding<a name="FNanchor_412_412" id="FNanchor_412_412"></a><a href="#Footnote_412_412" class="fnanchor">[412]</a> -and of his courage<a name="FNanchor_413_413" id="FNanchor_413_413"></a><a href="#Footnote_413_413" class="fnanchor">[413]</a>: and he shares<a name="FNanchor_414_414" id="FNanchor_414_414"></a><a href="#Footnote_414_414" class="fnanchor">[414]</a> in the -rebukes which she everywhere heaps upon herself; -though, with the delicacy and high refinement of her -irresolute but gentle character, she never reproaches -him in the presence of his parents, by whom he continued -to be loved.</p> - -<p>To the Trojan people he was unequivocally hateful<a name="FNanchor_415_415" id="FNanchor_415_415"></a><a href="#Footnote_415_415" class="fnanchor">[415]</a>. -They would have pointed him out to Agamemnon, if -they could: for they detested him like black Death. -It was by a mixture of bribery and the daring assertion -of authority, that he checked those movements in the -Assembly, which had it for their object to enforce the -restoration of Helen to Menelaus<a name="FNanchor_416_416" id="FNanchor_416_416"></a><a href="#Footnote_416_416" class="fnanchor">[416]</a>. Of all his countrymen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -Hector appears to have been most alive to his guilt, -and is alone in reproaching him with it<a name="FNanchor_417_417" id="FNanchor_417_417"></a><a href="#Footnote_417_417" class="fnanchor">[417]</a>. It is under -the influence of a sharp rebuke from Hector, that he -proposes to undertake a single combat with Menelaus<a name="FNanchor_418_418" id="FNanchor_418_418"></a><a href="#Footnote_418_418" class="fnanchor">[418]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Greek estimate of Paris.</i></div> - -<p>The only persons on the Greek side, who utter any -strong sentiment in respect to Paris, are Diomed and -Menelaus. This is singular; for when we consider -what was the cause of war, we might have expected, -perhaps, that recurrence to it would be popular and -constant among the Greeks. Nor is this all that may -excite surprise. Diomed is unmeasured in vituperating -Paris, but it is for his cowardice and effeminacy. The -only word, which comes at all near the subject of his -crime, is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παρθενοπῖπα</span>: and by mocking him as a dangler -after virgins, the brave son of Tydeus shows how small -a place the original treachery of Paris occupied in his -mind.</p> - -<p>Menelaus, indeed, has a keen sense of the specific -nature and malignity of the outrage. He beseeches -Jupiter to strengthen his hand against the man who -has done such deadly wrong, not to him only, but to -all the laws which unite mankind:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄφρα τις ἐρρίγῃσι καὶ ὀψιγόνων ἀνθρώπων</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξεινοδόκον κακὰ ῥέξαι, ὅ κεν φιλότητα παράσχῃ</span><a name="FNanchor_419_419" id="FNanchor_419_419"></a><a href="#Footnote_419_419" class="fnanchor">[419]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But then Homer has already, in the Catalogue, introduced -Menelaus to us as distinguished from the rest of -his countrymen, by his greater keenness to revenge the -wrongs and groans of Helen<a name="FNanchor_420_420" id="FNanchor_420_420"></a><a href="#Footnote_420_420" class="fnanchor">[420]</a>. Accordingly, the injured -husband returns on other occasions to the topic: calls -the Trojans <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κακαὶ κύνες</span>, and invokes upon them the anger -of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ζεὺς ξείνιος</span>, the Jupiter of hospitality<a name="FNanchor_421_421" id="FNanchor_421_421"></a><a href="#Footnote_421_421" class="fnanchor">[421]</a>;</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἵ μευ κουριδίην ἄλοχον καὶ κτῄματα πολλὰ</div> - <div class="verse">μὰψ οἴχεσθ’ ἀνάγοντες, ἐπεὶ φιλέεσθε παρ’ αὐτῇ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus it is plain, that Menelaus resents not only a privation -and an act of piracy, but a base and black breach -of faith. It is quite plain, on the other hand, that in -this respect he stands alone among his countrymen. -They, regarding the matter more crudely, and from a -distance, appear to see in it little beyond a violent abduction, -which it is perfectly right, for those who can, -to resent and retrieve, but which implies no extraordinary -and damning guilt in the perpetrator.</p> - -<p>Hence probably that singular appearance of apathy -on the part of the Greeks, which might at first sight -seem to entail on them a moral reproach, in some -degree allied to that which justly attaches itself to the -Trojan community. It is not possible, indeed, to take a -full measure of their state of mind in regard to the -crime of Paris, without condemning the views and propensities -to which it was due. But the causes were -various: and the blame they may deserve is both very -different from that which must fall upon the Trojans, -and is also different in a mode, which may help to -illustrate some main distinctions in the two national -characters.</p> - -<p>I speak here, as everywhere, of the adjustment of -acts and motives in the poem as poetical facts, that is -to say, as placed relatively to one another with care and -accuracy in order to certain effects; and as liable to be -tried under the law of effect, just as, in a simple history, -all particulars alleged are liable to be tried under -the law of fact. The assumption of truth or fable in -the poem does not materially widen or narrow the field -of poetical discussion. The critic looks for consistency -as between motive and action, causes and effects, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -voyage to Lilliput or Laputa, as well as in Thucydides -or Clarendon. The difference is that, in the one case, -our discussion terminates with the genius of the inventor; -in the other we are verifying the life and condition -of mankind.</p> - -<p>If then we admit the abduction, and inquire for -what probable cause it is that the wrong, being so obvious -and gross, was not more prominent in the mind -of the people who had endured it, a part at least -of the answer is this. We do not require to go back -three thousand years in the history of the world in -order to learn how often it happens that, when a conflict -has arisen between nations, the original causes of -quarrel tend irresistibly to become absorbed and lost -in its incidents. As long as honour and security are -held to depend more on strength than on right, relative -strength must often prevail over relative right in the decision -of questions, where the arbitrement of battle has -been invoked. Both the willingness of the Trojans to -restore, and the willingness of the Greeks to accept -the atonement, may be expedients of the Poet to give -a certain moral harmony to his work; of which it is a -marked feature that it artfully divides our sympathies -throughout, so far at least as is needed for the interest -of the poem. On the one side, the ambition and rapacity -of Agamemnon may have induced him not only -not to seek, but even to decline or discourage accommodation; -which, we may observe, he never promotes -in the Iliad. Having got a fair cause of war, he -may have been bent on making the most of it, and -confident, as Thucydides believes he was, in his power -to turn it to account. While, on the other hand, -Troy was not so far from or so strange to Greece, as -to be exempt from the fear of appearing afraid; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -until it had become too late, she may have thought -her safety would be compromised by the surrender of -Helen.</p> - -<p>Here may be reasons why restitution was neither -given on the one side, nor steadily kept in view on the -other: especially as it was of course included in the idea -of the capture of the city. But it is not clear that this -was enough to account for the apathy of the Greeks in -general with respect to the crime of Paris, which we -might have expected to find a favourite and familiar -topic with his enemies at large, instead of being confined, -as it is, to the immediate sufferer by the wrong.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Its relation to prevailing views of marriage.</i></div> - -<p>Now, the answer to this question must after all be -sought partly in the prevalent ideas of the heroic age; -and partly in those which were peculiar more or less to -the Greek people.</p> - -<p>According to Christian morality, the abduction and -appropriation of a married woman is not simply a crime -when committed, but it is a crime that is aggravated -by every day, during which her relation with her seducer -or ravisher is continued. This was not so in the -heroic age.</p> - -<p>We have examples in the poems of what Homer considers -to be a continued course of crime. Such is the -conduct of the Suitors in the Odyssey, who for years -together waste the substance of Ulysses, woo his wife, -oppress his son, and cohabit with the servants. This -was habitual crime, crime voluntarily and deliberately -persevered in, when it might at any time have been -renounced.</p> - -<p>This vicious course of the Suitors is never called by -Homer an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄτη</span>; it is described by the names of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀτασθαλίαι</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑπερβασίη</span><a name="FNanchor_422_422" id="FNanchor_422_422"></a><a href="#Footnote_422_422" class="fnanchor">[422]</a>. So likewise the series of enor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>mities -committed by Ægisthus, the corruption of Clytemnestra, -the murder of her husband, the expulsion of -Orestes and prolonged usurpation of the throne; these -are never called by the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄτη</span>; but <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄτη</span>, and not -one of the severer names quoted above, is the appellation -always given by Homer to the crime of Paris.</p> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄτη</span> of a man is a crime so far partaking of the -nature of error, that it is done under the influence of -passion or weakness; perhaps excluding premeditation, -perhaps such that its consequences follow spontaneously -in its train, without a new act of will to draw them, so -that the act, when once committed, is practically irretrievable. -Something, according to Homer, was evidently -wanting in the crime of Paris, to sink it to the lower -depths of blackness. Perhaps we may find it partly in -the nature of marriage, as it was viewed by his age.</p> - -<p>Having taken Helen to Troy, he made her his wife, -and his wife she continued until the end of the siege. -We should of course say he did not make her his wife, -for she was the wife of another man. But the distinction -between marriage <i>de facto</i> and marriage <i>de jure</i>, -clear to us in the light of Divine Revelation, was less -clear to the age of Homer. Helen was to Paris the -mistress of his household; the possessor of his affections, -such as they were; the sole sharer, apparently, of -his dignities and of his bed. To the mind of that period -there was nothing dishonourable in the connection itself, -apart from its origin; while, to our mind, every day of its -continuance was a fresh accumulation of its guilt. The -higher wrong of wounded and defrauded affections was -personal to Menelaus. In the aspect it presented to the -general understanding, the act of Paris, once committed, -and sealed by the establishment of the <i>de facto</i> conjugal -relation, remained an act of plunder and nothing else.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>And to Greek views of homicide.</i></div> - -<p>To comprehend these notions, so widely differing from -our own, we may seek their further illustration by a -reference to the established view of homicide. He, who -had taken the life of a fellow creature, was bound to -make atonement by the payment of a fine. If he offered -that atonement, it was not only the custom, but the -duty, of the relations of the slain man to accept it. So -much so, that the blunt mind of Ajax takes this ground -as the simplest and surest for argument with Achilles, -whom he urges not to refuse reparation offered by Agamemnon, -in consideration that reparation (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποίνη</span>) covers -the slaughter of a brother or a son. Beforehand, the -Greek would have scorned to accept a price for life. -But, the deed being done, it came into the category of -exchangeable values. Even so the abstraction of Helen, -once committed, assumed for the common mind the -character of an act of plunder, differing from the case -of homicide, inasmuch as the thing taken could be given -back, but not differing from it as to the essence of its -moral nature, however aggravated might have been the -circumstances with which it was originally attended.</p> - -<p>Now, wherever the moral judgment against plunder -has been greatly relaxed, that of fraud in connection -with it is sure to undergo a similar process; because, -in the same degree in which acts of plunder are acquitted -as lawful acquisition, fraud is sure to come into -credit by assuming the character of stratagem. We may, -I think, find an example of this rule in the Thirteenth -Odyssey; where, with an entire freedom from any consciousness -of wrong, Ulysses feigns to have slaughtered -Orsilochus at night by ambush, in consequence of a -quarrel that had previously occurred about booty<a name="FNanchor_423_423" id="FNanchor_423_423"></a><a href="#Footnote_423_423" class="fnanchor">[423]</a>.</p> - -<p>Here then we reach the point, at which we must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -take into view the peculiar ideas and tendencies of the -Greek mind in the heroic age, as they bear necessarily -upon its appreciation of an act like that of Paris. The -Greeks, of whom we may fairly take Diomed as the -type, detest and despise him for affectation, irresolution, -and poltroonery: these are the ideas uppermost -in their mind: we are not to doubt that, besides seeking -reparation for Menelaus, they condemned morally -the act which made it needful; what we have to account -for is, that they did not condemn it in such a -manner as to make this moral judgment the ruling -idea in their minds with regard to him.</p> - -<p>We have seen that, according to Homer, instead of -Helen’s having been originally the willing partner of -the guilt of Paris, he was, under her husband’s roof, her -kidnapper and not her corrupter. Her offence seems -to have consisted in this, that she gave a half-willing -assent to the consequences of the abduction. Though -never escaping from the sense of shame, always retaining -along with a wounded conscience her original -refinement of character, and apparently fluctuating -from time to time in an alternate strength and weakness -of homeward longings<a name="FNanchor_424_424" id="FNanchor_424_424"></a><a href="#Footnote_424_424" class="fnanchor">[424]</a>, the specific form of her -offence, according to the ideas of the age, was rather -the preterite one of unresisting acquiescence, than the -fact of continuing to recognise Paris as a husband -during the lifetime of Menelaus. It was the having -changed her husband, not the living with a man who -was not her husband; and hence we find that she was -most kindly treated in Troy by that member of the -royal house, namely Hector, who was himself of the -highest moral tone.</p> - -<p>The offence of Paris, though also (except as to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -mere restitution of plundered goods) a preterite offence, -was more complex. He violated the laws of hospitality, -as we find distinctly charged upon him by -Menelaus<a name="FNanchor_425_425" id="FNanchor_425_425"></a><a href="#Footnote_425_425" class="fnanchor">[425]</a>. He assumed the power of a husband over -another man’s wife. This he gained by violence. Now, -paradoxical as it may appear, yet perhaps this very ingredient -of violence, which we look upon as even aggravating -the case, and which in the view of the Greeks -was the proper cause of the war, (for their anxiety was -to avenge the forced journey and the groans of Helen,) -may nevertheless have been also the very ingredient, -which morally redeemed the character of the proceeding -in the eyes of Greece. This it might do by lifting it -out of the region of mere shame and baseness, into that -class of manful wrongs, which they habitually regarded -as matters to be redressed indeed by the strong hand, -but never as merely infamous. Hence, when we find -the Greeks full of disgust and of contempt towards -Paris, it is only for the effeminacy and poltroonery of -character which he showed in the war. His original -crime was probably palliated to them by its seeming to -involve something of manhood and of the spirit of adventure. -So that we may thus have to seek the key to -the inadequate sense among the Greeks of the guilt of -Paris in that which, as we have seen, was the capital -weakness of their morality; namely, its light estimation -of crimes of violence, and its tendency to recognise -their enterprise and daring as an actual set-off -against whatever moral wrong they might involve.</p> - -<p>The chance legend of Hercules and Iphitus, in the -Odyssey, affords the most valuable and pointed illustration -of the great moral question<a name="FNanchor_426_426" id="FNanchor_426_426"></a><a href="#Footnote_426_426" class="fnanchor">[426]</a> between Paris and -Menelaus, which lies at the very foundation of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -great structure of the Iliad. For in that case also, we -seem to find an instance of abominable crime, which -notwithstanding did not destroy the character of its -perpetrator, nor prevent his attaining to Olympus; apparently -for no other reason, than that it was a crime -such as had probably required for its commission the -exercise of masculine strength and daring.</p> - -<p>There remained, however, even according to contemporary -ideas, quite enough of guilt on the part of -Paris. The abduction and corruption of a prince’s wife, -combined with his personal cowardice, his constant -levity and vacillation, and his reckless indifference to -his country’s danger and affliction, amply suffice to -warrant and account for Homer’s having represented -him as a personage hated, hateful, and contemptible. -But while the foregoing considerations may explain -the feelings and language of the Greeks, otherwise -inexplicable, there still remains enough of what at first -sight is puzzling in the conduct, if not in the sentiments, -of the Trojans.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Trojan estimate of Paris.</i></div> - -<p>We ask ourselves, how could the Trojans endure, or -how could Homer rationally represent them as enduring, -to see the glorious wealth and state of Priam, with -their own lives, families, and fortunes, put upon the die, -rather than surrender Helen, or support Paris in withholding -her? The people hate him: the wise Antenor -opens in public assembly the proposal to restore Helen -to the Greeks: Hector, the prince of greatest influence, -almost the actual governor of Troy, knew his -brother’s guilt, and reproached him with it<a name="FNanchor_427_427" id="FNanchor_427_427"></a><a href="#Footnote_427_427" class="fnanchor">[427]</a>. How is -it that, of all these elements and materials, none ever -become effective?</p> - -<p>We must, I think, seek the answer to the questions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -partly in the difference of the moral tone, and the -moral code, among Greeks and Trojans; partly in the -difference of their political institutions.</p> - -<p>We shall find it probable that, although the ostensible -privileges of the people were not less, yet the -same spirit of freedom did not pervade Trojan institutions; -that their kings were followed with a more -servile reverence by the people; that authority was of -more avail, apart from rational persuasion; that amidst -equally strong sentiments of connection in the family -and the tribe, there was much less of moral firmness -and decision than among the Greeks, and perhaps also -a far less close adherence to the great laws of conjugal -union, which had been violated by the act of Paris. -Indeed it would appear from the allusion of Hector to -a tunic of stone<a name="FNanchor_428_428" id="FNanchor_428_428"></a><a href="#Footnote_428_428" class="fnanchor">[428]</a>, that Paris was probably by law subject -to stoning for the crime of adultery: a curious -remnant, if the interpretation be a correct one, of the -stern traits of pristine justice and severity, still remembered -amidst a prevalent dissolution of the stricter -moral ties.</p> - -<p>Although it results from our previous inquiries that -the plebeian <i>substratum</i>, so to speak, of society, was -perhaps nearly the same in both countries, yet the -opinions of the masses would not then have the same -substantiveness of character, nor so much independence -of origin, as in times of Christianity, and of a more elaborate -development of freedom and its main conditions. -Then, much more than now, the first propelling power -in the formation of public opinion would be from the -high places of society: and in the higher sphere of the -community, if not in the lower, Greece and Troy were, -while ethnically allied, yet materially different as to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -moral tone. It is remarkable, that there is no <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τὶς</span> in -Troy.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Trojans more sensual and false.</i></div> - -<p>If we may trust the general effect of Homer’s representations, -we shall conclude that the Trojans were -more given to the vices of sensuality and falsehood, -the Greeks, on the other hand, more inclined to crimes -of violence: in fact, the latter bear the characteristics -of a more masculine, and the former of a feebler, -people. In the words of Mure, the contrast shadows -forth ‘certain fundamental features of distinction, -which have always been more or less observable, between -the European and Asiatic races<a name="FNanchor_429_429" id="FNanchor_429_429"></a><a href="#Footnote_429_429" class="fnanchor">[429]</a>.’</p> - -<p>On looking back to the previous history of Troy, we -find that Laomedon defrauded Neptune and Apollo of -their stipulated hire: and Anchises surreptitiously obtained -a breed of horses from the sires belonging to -Laomedon, who was his relative<a name="FNanchor_430_430" id="FNanchor_430_430"></a><a href="#Footnote_430_430" class="fnanchor">[430]</a>. The conditions of -the bargain, under which Paris fought with Menelaus, -are shamelessly and grossly violated. Pandarus, in the -interval of truce, treacherously aims at and wounds -Menelaus with an arrow; but no Trojan disapproves -the deed. Euphorbus comes behind the disarmed -Patroclus, and wounds him in the back; and even -princely Hector, seeing him in this condition, then -only comes up and dispatches him. That these were -not isolated acts, we may judge from the circumstance -that Menelaus, ever mild and fair in his sentiments, -when he accepts the challenge of Paris, requires that -Priam shall be sent for to conclude the arrangement, -because his sons—and he makes no exceptions—are -saucy and faithless, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑπερφίαλοι καὶ ἄπιστοι</span><a name="FNanchor_431_431" id="FNanchor_431_431"></a><a href="#Footnote_431_431" class="fnanchor">[431]</a>. This must, -I think, be taken as characteristic of Troy; though he -mildly proceeds to take off the edge of his reproach by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γνώμη</span> about youth and age. But the most scandalous -of all the Trojan proceedings seems to have been the -effort made, though unsuccessfully, to have Menelaus -put to death, when he came on a peaceful mission to -demand the restoration of his wife<a name="FNanchor_432_432" id="FNanchor_432_432"></a><a href="#Footnote_432_432" class="fnanchor">[432]</a>.</p> - -<p>Nothing of this admiration for fraud apart from -force appears either in the conduct of the Greeks -during the war, or in their prior history: and the -passage respecting Autolycus, which, more than any -other, appears to give countenance to knavery, takes -his case out of the category of ordinary human action -by placing it in immediate relation to a deity; so that -it illustrates, not the national character as it was, but -rather the form to which the growing corruptions of -religion tended to bring it. Yet, while Homer gives -to the Trojans alone the character of faithlessness, he -everywhere, as we must see, vindicates the intellectual -superiority of the Greeks in the stratagems of the war. -And if, as I think is the case, I have succeeded in -proving above that the doctrine of a future state was -less lively and operative among the Trojans than among -the Greeks, it is certainly instructive to view that deficiency -in connection with the national want of all regard -for truth. This difference teaches us, that the imprecations -against perjurers, and the prospects of future -punishment, were probably no contemptible auxiliaries -in overcoming the temptations to present falseness, with -which human life is everywhere beset.</p> - -<p>As respects sensuality, the chief points of distinction -are, that we find a particular relation to this subject -running down the royal line of Troy; and that, whereas -in Greece we are told occasionally of some beautiful -woman who is seduced or ravished by a deity, in Troas -we find the princes of the line are those to whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -names the legends are attached. The inference is, that -in the former case a veil was thrown over such subjects, -but that in the latter no sense of shame required -them to be kept secret. The cases that come before -us are those of Tithonus, who is said to become the -husband of Aurora; of Anchises, for whom Venus conceives -a passion; and of Paris, on whom the same deity -confers the evil gift of desire<a name="FNanchor_433_433" id="FNanchor_433_433"></a><a href="#Footnote_433_433" class="fnanchor">[433]</a>, and to whom she promises -the most beautiful of women, the wife of Menelaus. -All these are stories, which seem to have tended -to the fame of the parties concerned on earth, and by -no means to their discredit with the Immortals. And -again, if, as some may take to be the case, we are to -interpret the three <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νύμφαι</span><a name="FNanchor_434_434" id="FNanchor_434_434"></a><a href="#Footnote_434_434" class="fnanchor">[434]</a> of Troas as local deities, how -remarkable is the fact that Homer should thus describe -them as tainted with passions, which nowhere appear -among the corresponding order within the Greek -circle! There, male deities alone are licentious. Juno, -Minerva, Diana, and Persephone, whom alone we can -call properly Greek goddesses of the period, have no -such impure connection with mortals, as the goddesses -both of the Trojan and of the Phœnician traditions.</p> - -<p>We hear indeed of Orion<a name="FNanchor_435_435" id="FNanchor_435_435"></a><a href="#Footnote_435_435" class="fnanchor">[435]</a>, who was also the choice -of Aurora: but we cannot tell whether he belonged -more to the Trojan than to the Greek branch of the -common stem. To the Greek race he cannot have been -alien, as he is among Greek company in the Eleventh -Odyssey: but then he is not there as an object of -honour; he appears in a state of modified suffering, -engaged in an endless chase<a name="FNanchor_436_436" id="FNanchor_436_436"></a><a href="#Footnote_436_436" class="fnanchor">[436]</a>. We also find Iasion, -probably in Crete, who is reported to have been loved -by Ceres<a name="FNanchor_437_437" id="FNanchor_437_437"></a><a href="#Footnote_437_437" class="fnanchor">[437]</a>: but he was immediately consumed for it by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -the thunderbolt of Jupiter. And so the detention of -Ulysses by the beautiful and immortal Calypso is not -in Homer a glory, but a calamity; and it allays none of -the passionate longings of that hero for his wife and -home.</p> - -<p>The marked contrast, which these groups of incidents -present, is perhaps somewhat heightened by the -enthusiastic observation of the Trojan Elders on the -Wall in the Third Iliad<a name="FNanchor_438_438" id="FNanchor_438_438"></a><a href="#Footnote_438_438" class="fnanchor">[438]</a>. Though susceptible of a -good sense, yet, when the old age of the persons is -taken into view, the passage seems to be in harmony -with the Trojan character at large, rather than the -Greek: and perhaps it may bear some analogy to the -licentious glances of the Suitors<a name="FNanchor_439_439" id="FNanchor_439_439"></a><a href="#Footnote_439_439" class="fnanchor">[439]</a>. If so, it is very -significant that Homer should assign to the most -venerable elders of Troy, what in Greece he does not -think of imputing except to libertines, who are about -to fall within the sweep of the divine vengeance.</p> - -<p>The difference between the races in this respect -seems to have been deeply rooted, for there is evidently -some corresponding difference between their -views and usages in respect to marriage.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Trojan ideas and usages of marriage.</i></div> - -<p>The character of Priam, which has been so happily -conceived by Mure<a name="FNanchor_440_440" id="FNanchor_440_440"></a><a href="#Footnote_440_440" class="fnanchor">[440]</a>, undoubtedly bears on its very -surface the fault of over indulgence, along with the -virtues of gentleness and great warmth and keenness -of the affections. But it may be doubted, whether the -poems warrant our treating him as individually dissolute. -His life was a domestic life: but the family was -one constructed according to Oriental manners. According -to those manners, polygamy and wholesale -concubinage were in some sense the privilege, in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>other -view almost the duty, of his station; confined, as -these abuses must necessarily be from their nature (and -as they even now are in Turkey), to the highest ranks -wherever they prevail. The household of Priam, notwithstanding -his diversified relations to women, is as regularly -organized as that of Ulysses: and when he speaks -of his vast family, constituted as it was, he makes it -known to Achilles, in a moment of agonizing sorrow, -and evidently by way of lodging a claim for sympathy<a name="FNanchor_441_441" id="FNanchor_441_441"></a><a href="#Footnote_441_441" class="fnanchor">[441]</a>, -though the effect upon modern ears may be somewhat -ludicrous. ‘I had,’ he says, ‘fifty sons: nineteen from -a single womb: the rest from various mothers in my -palace.’ He might have added that he had also twelve -daughters<a name="FNanchor_442_442" id="FNanchor_442_442"></a><a href="#Footnote_442_442" class="fnanchor">[442]</a>, whom he probably does not need to mention -on the occasion, as in this department he was not -a bereaved parent.</p> - -<p>Hecuba, the mother of the nineteen, was evidently -possessed of rights and a position peculiar to herself. -The very passage last quoted distinguishes her from -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γυναῖκες</span>, and throughout the poem she moves -alone<a name="FNanchor_443_443" id="FNanchor_443_443"></a><a href="#Footnote_443_443" class="fnanchor">[443]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The family of Priam.</i></div> - -<p>Of the children of Priam we meet with a great number -in various places of the poem.</p> - -<p>There are, I think, five expressly mentioned as -children of Hecuba.</p> - -<p> -Hector, Il. vi. 87.<br /> -Helenus, ibid.<br /> -Laodice, vi. 252.<br /> -Deiphobus, Il. xxii. 333.<br /> -Paris, (because Hecuba was <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκυρὴ</span> to Helen,) Il. xxiv.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Next, we have two children of Laothoe, daughter of -Altes, lord of the Lelegians of Pedasus.</p> - -<p> -Lycaon, Il. xxi. 84.<br /> -Polydorus, ibid. 91.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> - -<p>Next Gorgythion, son of Kastianeira, who came from -Aisume, (Il. viii. 302).</p> - -<p>Then we have, without mention of the mother,</p> - - - -<div class="center"> -<table class="lefttable" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td>Agathon</td><td class="bracket" rowspan="5"> </td><td rowspan="5" class="vcenter">Il. xxiv. 249-51.</td></tr> -<tr><td>Pammon</td></tr> -<tr><td>Antiphonos</td></tr> -<tr><td>Hippothoos</td></tr> -<tr><td>Dios</td></tr> -</table></div> -<p> -Cassandra, xxiv. 699.<br /> -Mestor, xxiv. 257.<br /> -Troilos, Il. xxiv. 257.<br /> -Echemmon<a name="FNanchor_444_444" id="FNanchor_444_444"></a><a href="#Footnote_444_444" class="fnanchor">[444]</a>, v. 159.<br /> -Chromios<a href="#Footnote_444_444" class="fnanchor">[444]</a>, ibid.<br /> -Antiphos, iv. 490. xi. 101.<br /> -Cebriones, viii. 318.<br /> -Polites, ii. 791.<br /> -</p> - -<p>And, lastly, illegitimate (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόθοι</span>),</p> - -<p> -Isos, Il. xi. 101.<br /> -Doryclos, xi. 489.<br /> -Democoon, iv. 499.<br /> -Medesicaste, xiii. 173.<br /> -</p> - -<p>The most important conclusion derivable from the -comparison of the names thus collected is, that the children -of Priam, and consequently their mothers, fell into -three ranks:</p> - -<p>1. The children of Hecuba.</p> - -<p>2. The children of his other wives.</p> - -<p>3. The children of concubines, or of chance attachments, -who were, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόθοι</span>, bastards.</p> - -<p>The name <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόθος</span> with Homer, at least among the -Greeks, ordinarily marks inferiority of condition. -The mothers of the four <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόθοι</span> are never named. This -may, however, be due to accident. At any rate -Lycaon appears to have the full rank of a prince: -he was once ransomed with the value of a hundred oxen, -and, when again taken, he promises thrice as much; -again, in describing himself as the half-brother of Hector, -he avows nothing like spurious birth. The reference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -to him by Priam explains his position more clearly, and -places it beyond doubt that Laothoe was recognised as -a wife, for she brought Priam a large dowry<a name="FNanchor_445_445" id="FNanchor_445_445"></a><a href="#Footnote_445_445" class="fnanchor">[445]</a>; and if -her sons be dead, says the aged king, ‘it will be an -affliction to me and to their mother.’ The language -used in another passage about Polydorus is also conclusive<a name="FNanchor_446_446" id="FNanchor_446_446"></a><a href="#Footnote_446_446" class="fnanchor">[446]</a>. -He is described as the youngest and dearest -of the sons of Priam, which evidently implies his being -in the fullest sense a member of the family. Again, -in the palace of Priam there were separate apartments, -not for the nineteen only, but for the fifty. Thus they -seem to have included all the three classes. So that -it is probable enough that the state of illegitimacy did -not draw the same clear line as to rank in Troy, which -it drew in Greece.</p> - -<p>Laothoe, mother of Lycaon and Polydorus, was a -woman of princely rank: and when Lycaon says that -Priam had many more besides her<a name="FNanchor_447_447" id="FNanchor_447_447"></a><a href="#Footnote_447_447" class="fnanchor">[447]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῦ δ’ ἔχε θυγατέρα Πρίαμος, πολλὰς δὲ καὶ ἄλλας</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>he probably means many more of the same condition, -wives and other well-born women, who formed part of -his family.</p> - -<p>So that Homer, in all likelihood, means to describe -to us the threefold order,</p> - -<p>1. Hecuba, as the principal queen.</p> - -<p>2. Other wives, inferior but distinctly acknowledged.</p> - -<p>3. Either concubines recognised as in a position -wholly subordinate, or women who were in no permanent -relation of any kind with Priam.</p> - -<p>Beyond the case of Priam, we have slender means of -ascertaining the usages and ideas of marriage among -the Trojans. We have Andromache, wife of Hector; -Helen, a sort of wife to Paris; Theano, wife to Antenor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -and priestess of Minerva; who also took charge of and -brought up his illegitimate son Pedæus<a name="FNanchor_448_448" id="FNanchor_448_448"></a><a href="#Footnote_448_448" class="fnanchor">[448]</a>. The manner -in which this is mentioned, as a favour to her husband, -certainly shows that the mark of bastardy was not wholly -overlooked, even in Troy. But, besides this Pedæus, we -meet in different places of the Iliad no less than ten -other sons of Antenor, all, I think, within the fighting -age. This is not demonstrative, but it raises a presumption -that some of them were probably the sons of -other wives than Theano; who is twice described as -Theano of the blooming cheeks, and can hardly therefore -be supposed to have reached a very advanced -period of life<a name="FNanchor_449_449" id="FNanchor_449_449"></a><a href="#Footnote_449_449" class="fnanchor">[449]</a>.</p> - -<p>But it is clear from the important case of Priam, -even if it stands alone, that among the Trojans no -shame attaches to the plurality of wives, or to having -many illegitimate children, the birth of various mothers. -It is possible that the manners of Troy, with regard to -polygamy, were at this time the same (unless as to the -reason given,) with those which Tacitus ascribes to the -Germans of his own day: <i>Singulis uxoribus contenti -sunt; exceptis admodum paucis, qui, non libidine, sed ob -nobilitatem, plurimis nuptiis ambiuntur</i><a name="FNanchor_450_450" id="FNanchor_450_450"></a><a href="#Footnote_450_450" class="fnanchor">[450]</a>. We must add -to this, that Paris, in detaining as his wife the spouse -of another man still living, does an act of which we -have no example, to which we find no approximation, -in the Greek manners of the time. Its significance -is increased, when we find that after his death she is -given to Deiphobus: for this further union alters the -individual trait into one which is national. Her Greek -longings, as well as her remorse for the surrender of -her honour to Paris, afford the strongest presumption<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -that the arrangement could hardly have been adopted -to meet her own inclination; and that it must have -been made for her without her choice, as a matter of -supposed family or political convenience.</p> - -<p>We seem therefore to be justified in concluding that, -as singleness did not enter essentially into the Trojan -idea of marriage, so neither did the bond with them -either possess or even approximate to the character of -indissolubility. The difference is very remarkable between -the horror which attaches to the first crime of -Ægisthus in Greece, the corruption of Clytemnestra, -though it was analogous to the act of Paris, and the -indifference of the Trojans to the offence committed by -their own prince. We have no means indeed of knowing -directly how Ægisthus was regarded by the Greeks -around him, during the period which preceded the return -and murder of Agamemnon. But we find that -Jupiter, in the Olympian Court, distinctly describes -his adultery as a substantive part of his sin<a name="FNanchor_451_451" id="FNanchor_451_451"></a><a href="#Footnote_451_451" class="fnanchor">[451]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὡς καὶ νῦν Αἴγισθος ὑπέρμορον Ἀτρείδαο</div> - <div class="verse">γῆμ’ ἄλοχον μνηστὴν, τὸν δ’ ἔκτανε νοστήσαντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And I think we may rest assured, that Jupiter never -would give utterance on Olympus to any rule of -matrimonial morality, higher than that which was observed -among the Greeks on earth.</p> - -<p>So again, it was a specific part of the offence of the -Suitors in the Odyssey, that they sought to wed Penelope -while her husband was alive<a name="FNanchor_452_452" id="FNanchor_452_452"></a><a href="#Footnote_452_452" class="fnanchor">[452]</a>; that is to say, before his -death was ascertained, though it was really not extravagant -to presume that it had occurred.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Stricter ideas among the Greeks.</i></div> - -<p>From both these instances, and more especially from -the last, we must, I think, reasonably conclude that the -moral code of Greece was far more adverse to the act<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -of Paris, considered as an offence against matrimonial -laws, than the corresponding rule in Troy.</p> - -<p>In connection with this topic, we may notice, how Homer -has overspread the Dardanid family, at the epoch -of the war as well as in former times, with redundance of -personal beauty. Of Paris we are prepared to hear it as a -matter of course; but Hector has also the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εἶδος ἀγητόν</span><a name="FNanchor_453_453" id="FNanchor_453_453"></a><a href="#Footnote_453_453" class="fnanchor">[453]</a>; -and, even in his old age, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄψις ἀγαθὴ</span> of Priam was -admired by Achilles<a name="FNanchor_454_454" id="FNanchor_454_454"></a><a href="#Footnote_454_454" class="fnanchor">[454]</a>. Deiphobus again is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεοείκελος</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θεοειδὴς</span><a name="FNanchor_455_455" id="FNanchor_455_455"></a><a href="#Footnote_455_455" class="fnanchor">[455]</a>, and on two of Priam’s daughters -severally does Homer bestow the praise of being each the -most beautiful<a name="FNanchor_456_456" id="FNanchor_456_456"></a><a href="#Footnote_456_456" class="fnanchor">[456]</a> among them all. With this was apparently -connected, in many of them, effeminacy, as well -as insolence and falseness of character; for we must -suppose a groundwork of truth in the wrathful invective -of their father, who describes his remaining -sons as (Il. xxiv. 261.)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ψευσταί τ’ ὀρχησταί τε, χοροιτυπίῃσιν ἄριστοι,</div> - <div class="verse">ἀρνῶν ἠδ’ ἐρίφων ἐπιδήμιοι ἁρπακτῆρες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>An invective, which completely corresponds with the -Greek belief concerning their general character in the -Third Book<a name="FNanchor_457_457" id="FNanchor_457_457"></a><a href="#Footnote_457_457" class="fnanchor">[457]</a>. The great Greek heroes are also beautiful; -but their mere beauty, particularly in the Iliad, is for -the most part kept carefully in the shade.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Trojan polity less highly organized.</i></div> - -<p>We will turn now to the political institutions of -Troy. Less advanced towards organization, and of a -less firm tone than in Greece, they will help to explain -how it could happen that a people should bear prolonged -calamity and constant defeat, and could pass on -to final ruin, for the wicked and wanton wrong of an -individual prince.</p> - -<p>It has been noticed, that the idea of hereditary suc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>cession -was definite, as well as familiar, in Greece. In -Troy it appears to have been less so. And this is certainly -what we might expect from the recognition in -any form, however qualified, of polygamy. It tends to -confound the position of any one wife, although supposed -supreme, with that of others; and in confounding -the order of succession, as among the issue of -different wives, it altogether breaks up the simplicity -of the rule of primogeniture.</p> - -<p>And again, if, as we shall presently see, the Trojan -race had a less developed capacity for political organization, -they would be less likely to establish a clear -rule and practice of succession, which is a primary element -of political order in well-governed countries.</p> - -<p>The evidence as to the Asiatic rule of inheritance -is, I admit, indirect and scanty: nor do I attempt to -place what I have now to offer in a rank higher than -that of probable conjecture.</p> - -<p>1. Sarpedon was clearly leader of the Lycians, with -some kind of precedence over Glaucus.</p> - -<p>The general tenour of the poem clearly gives this -impression. He speaks and acts as the person principally -responsible<a name="FNanchor_458_458" id="FNanchor_458_458"></a><a href="#Footnote_458_458" class="fnanchor">[458]</a>. But by birth he was inferior to -Glaucus; for he was the grandson of Bellerophon only -in the female line through Laodamia, while Glaucus -stood alone in the male line through Hippolochus. I -do not venture to rely much on the mere order of the -names; and therefore I do not press the fact, which -indeed is not needed for the argument, that it makes -Laodamia junior to Hippolochus. It will be said that -Sarpedon was in chief command, because he was of -superior merit. But among the Greeks we have no -instance in which superior merit gives preeminence as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -against birth. And the reputation of divine origin clearly -could not put aside the prior right of succession.</p> - -<p>Again, both Sarpedon and Glaucus are both expressly -called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλῆες</span><a name="FNanchor_459_459" id="FNanchor_459_459"></a><a href="#Footnote_459_459" class="fnanchor">[459]</a>, kings. Now, they were first cousins, -and they belonged to the same kingdom. Hippolochus -was perhaps still alive<a name="FNanchor_460_460" id="FNanchor_460_460"></a><a href="#Footnote_460_460" class="fnanchor">[460]</a>; for he gave Glaucus a parting -charge, and his death is not mentioned. In Greece we -find the heir apparent called king, namely, Achilles: -but the title is never given to more than one person -standing in the line of succession. A possible explanation, -I think, is, that the Lycian kingdom had been -divided<a name="FNanchor_461_461" id="FNanchor_461_461"></a><a href="#Footnote_461_461" class="fnanchor">[461]</a>: but if this be not so, then the use of the term -seems to prove that in Asia all the children of the -common ancestor stood, or might stand, upon the same -footing by birth: and as if it was left to other causes, -instead of to a definite and single rule, to determine -who should succeed to the throne.</p> - -<p>2. In a former part of this work<a name="FNanchor_462_462" id="FNanchor_462_462"></a><a href="#Footnote_462_462" class="fnanchor">[462]</a>, I have stated reasons -for supposing that Æneas represented the elder -branch of the house of Dardanus. But, whether he -did so or not, it is sufficiently clear from the Iliad that -he was not without pretensions to the succession. The -dignity of his father Anchises is marked by his remaining -at Dardania, and not appearing in the court of -Priam. Æneas habitually abstains from attending the -meetings or assemblies for consultation, in which -Priam, where they are civil, and Hector, where they -are military, takes the lead. Achilles taunts him expressly -with looking forward to the succession after -the death of Priam, and with the anticipation of public -lands which he was to get from the Trojans forthwith, -if he could but slay the great Greek warrior. The par<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>ticular -succession, to which the taunt refers, is marked -out; it is the dominion, not over the mere Dardanians, -but over the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τρῶες ἱππόδαμοι</span><a name="FNanchor_463_463" id="FNanchor_463_463"></a><a href="#Footnote_463_463" class="fnanchor">[463]</a>. In following -down the genealogy, Æneas does not adhere to either -of the two lines (from Ilus and Assaracus respectively) -throughout, as senior, and therefore supreme; but, after -putting the line of Ilus first in the earlier part of the -chain, he places his own birth from Anchises before -that of Hector from Priam.</p> - -<p>Apart from the question <i>which</i> was the older line, -the effect of all these particulars, taken together, is to -show an indeterminateness in the rule of succession, of -which we have no indication among the Greeks. Even -the incidental notice of the right of Priam to give it to -Æneas, if he pleased, is as much without example in -anything Homer tells us of the Greek manners, as the -corresponding power conferred by the Parliament on -the Crown in the Tudor period was at variance with the -general analogies of English history and institutions.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Succession to the Throne of Priam.</i></div> - -<p>3. The third case before us is one in the family of -Priam itself. It appears extremely doubtful whether -we can, upon the authority of the poems, confidently -mark out one of his sons as having been the eldest, or as -standing on that account in the line of succession to the -throne of Priam. The evidence, so far as it goes, seems -rather to point to Paris; while the question lies between -him and Hector.</p> - -<p>Theocritus<a name="FNanchor_464_464" id="FNanchor_464_464"></a><a href="#Footnote_464_464" class="fnanchor">[464]</a> indeed calls Hector the eldest of the -twenty children of Hecuba. But this is an opinion, -not an authority; and the number named shows it to -be unlikely that he was thinking of historic accuracy, -for Homer says, Hecuba had nineteen sons, while she -had also several daughters<a name="FNanchor_465_465" id="FNanchor_465_465"></a><a href="#Footnote_465_465" class="fnanchor">[465]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> - -<p>There can be no doubt whatever, that Hector was -the most conspicuous person, the most considerable -champion of the city. He was charged exclusively -with the direction of the war, and with the regulation -of the supplies necessary to feed the force of Trojans -and of allies. Polydamas, who so often takes a different -view of affairs, and Sarpedon, when having a -complaint to make, alike apply to him. Æneas is the -only person who appears upon the field in the same -rank with him, and he stands in a position wholly distinct -from the family of Priam. As among the members -of that family, there can be no doubt of the preeminence -of Hector. He was, indeed, in actual exercise -of the heaviest part of the duties of sovereignty. Æneas, -in the genealogy, finishes the line of Assaracus with -himself; and, to all appearance, as not less a matter of -course, the line of Ilus with Hector<a name="FNanchor_466_466" id="FNanchor_466_466"></a><a href="#Footnote_466_466" class="fnanchor">[466]</a>. Again, the name -Astuanax, conferred by the people on his son, appears -to show that the crown was to come to him. But all -this in no degree answers the question, whether Hector -held his position as probable king-designate by birth, -or whether it was rather due to his personal qualities, -and his great and unshared responsibilities and exertions. -There are several circumstances, which may lead -us to incline towards the latter alternative.</p> - -<p>(1.) When his parents and widow bewail his loss, it -is the loss of their great defender and chief glory<a name="FNanchor_467_467" id="FNanchor_467_467"></a><a href="#Footnote_467_467" class="fnanchor">[467]</a>, not -of one who by death had vacated the place of known -successor to the sovereignty.</p> - -<p>(2.) Had Hector been by birth assured of the seat -of Priam, his right would have been sufficient cause -for giving to his son at once the name of Astuanax. -But this we are told the people did for the express<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -reason, that Hector was the only real bulwark of Troy. -It seems unlikely that in such a case his character as -heir by birth would have been wholly passed by. The -name, therefore, appears to suggest, that it was by proving -himself the bulwark of the throne that Hector had -become as it were the presumptive heir to it<a name="FNanchor_468_468" id="FNanchor_468_468"></a><a href="#Footnote_468_468" class="fnanchor">[468]</a>.</p> - -<p>When Hector takes his child in his arms, he prays, -on the infant’s behalf, that he may become, like himself<a name="FNanchor_469_469" id="FNanchor_469_469"></a><a href="#Footnote_469_469" class="fnanchor">[469]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ἀριπρεπέα Τρώεσσιν,</div> - <div class="verse">ὧδε βίην τ’ ἀγαθὸν, καὶ Ἰλίου ἶφι ἀνάσσειν·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>that is, that he may become distinguished and valiant, -and may mightily rule over the Trojans. This seems to -point to succession by virtue of personal qualities rather -than of birth.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Paris most probably the eldest-born.</i></div> - -<p>There are also signs that Paris, and not Hector, may -have been the eldest son of Priam, and may have had -that feebler inchoate title to succession, which, in the -day of necessity, his brother’s superior courage and character -was to set aside.</p> - -<p>This supposition accords better with the fact of his -having had influence sufficient to cause the refusal of -the original demand for the restitution of Helen, peacefully -made by the Greek embassy; and the endurance -of so much evil by his country on his behalf.</p> - -<p>It explains the fact of his having had a palace to -himself on Pergamus; a distinction which he shared -with Hector only<a name="FNanchor_470_470" id="FNanchor_470_470"></a><a href="#Footnote_470_470" class="fnanchor">[470]</a>, for the married sons as well as -daughters of Priam in general slept in apartments within -the palace of their father<a name="FNanchor_471_471" id="FNanchor_471_471"></a><a href="#Footnote_471_471" class="fnanchor">[471]</a>. And also it accords with -his original expedition, which was evidently an affair of -great pains and cost; and with his being plainly next in -military rank to Hector among the sons of Priam.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>Further, it would explain the fact, otherwise very -difficult to deal with, that alone among the children of -Priam, Paris or Alexander is honoured with the significant -title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύς</span>. Helenus is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span>, and -Hector <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποίμην λαῶν</span>, but neither expression is of the -same rank, or has a similar effect. This exclusive application -of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> is a very strong piece of -evidence, if, as I believe to be the case, it is nowhere -else applied in the Iliad to a person thus selected, without -indicating either the possession, or the hereditary -expectancy of a throne.</p> - -<p>And indeed, even if we could show that Homer had -applied the name <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> to two brothers in one -family, the result would be the same, as far as the -main argument is concerned, for there is no such pronounced -mark of equality found among brothers in any -of the royal families of Greece.</p> - -<p>Again; in considering the law of succession among -the Greeks, we have found four cases in the Catalogue, -where contingents were placed under the command of -two leaders seemingly co-ordinate; they are in every -instance brothers, and the four dual commands occur -in a total of twenty-nine. Or let us state the case in -another form, so as to include the cases of Bœotia and -Elis. Among sixteen Trojan contingents, there are but -six where the chief authority is plainly in a single hand; -out of twenty-nine Greek contingents, there are twenty-three, -and, of the remaining six, four are the cases of -brothers. This fact is material, as tending to show a -looser and less effective military organization in the -ranks of the Trojans and their allies, than in those of -the Greeks; a circumstance which does not prove, but -which harmonizes with, the hypothesis that they were -wanting also in a defined order of succession to the seat -of political power.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> - -<p>There are other reasons, immediately connected with -Hector, for supposing that Homer intended to represent -Paris as older than his brother<a name="FNanchor_472_472" id="FNanchor_472_472"></a><a href="#Footnote_472_472" class="fnanchor">[472]</a>. Paris had been in -manhood for at least twenty years, according to the -letter of the poem, which must at least represent a long -period of time. But Hector has one child only, a babe -in arms, which is in itself a presumption of his being -less advanced in life. Again, we must suppose his age -probably to be not very different from that of Andromache. -But it is quite plain that she was a young -mother; since after the slaughter of Eetion, her father, -Achilles shortly took a ransom for her mother, who -thereupon went back to the house of her own father, -Andromache’s maternal grandfather, and subsequently -died there<a name="FNanchor_473_473" id="FNanchor_473_473"></a><a href="#Footnote_473_473" class="fnanchor">[473]</a>. If then the grandfather of Andromache -was alive when Thebe was taken, and Hector’s age was -in due proportion to her own, he must in all likelihood -have been younger than Paris. Again, it may be noticed -that the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἥβη</span> is nowhere ascribed to Paris, but it is -assigned to Hector at his death<a name="FNanchor_474_474" id="FNanchor_474_474"></a><a href="#Footnote_474_474" class="fnanchor">[474]</a>. Notwithstanding its -complimentary use for Ulysses in Od. viii. 135, that word -has a certain leaning to early life. But we have a -stronger, and indeed I think a conclusive argument in -the speech of Andromache after his death<a name="FNanchor_475_475" id="FNanchor_475_475"></a><a href="#Footnote_475_475" class="fnanchor">[475]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἆνερ, ἀπ’ αἰῶνος νέος ὤλεο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus he is distinctly called young. And we may consider -it almost certain, under these circumstances, that -Paris was the first-born son of Priam<a name="FNanchor_476_476" id="FNanchor_476_476"></a><a href="#Footnote_476_476" class="fnanchor">[476]</a>, but that his right -of succession oozed away like water from a man’s hand.</p> - -<p>The relations of race between the Trojans and the -Greeks have already been examined, in connection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -with the great Homeric title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν</span><a name="FNanchor_477_477" id="FNanchor_477_477"></a><a href="#Footnote_477_477" class="fnanchor">[477]</a>; under -some difficulties, which resolve themselves into this, that -Homer, on almost every subject so luminous a guide, -is in all likelihood here, as it were, retained on the -side of silence; and that we have no information, except -such as he accidentally lets fall. But he was under no -such preoccupation with regard to the institutions of -Troy; so that, while he had no occasion for the same -amount of detail as he has given us with reference to the -Greeks, or the same minute accuracy as he has there -observed, enough appears to supply a tolerably clear -and consistent outline.</p> - -<p>We have been accustomed too negligently to treat -the Homeric term Troy, as if it designated only or -properly a single city. But in Homer it much more -commonly means a country, with the city sometimes -called Troy for its capital, and containing many other -cities beside it. The proper name, however, of the city -in the poems is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἴλιος</span>, not <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τροίη</span>. Ilios is used above an -hundred and twenty times in the Iliad and Odyssey, -and always strictly means the city. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τροίη</span> is -used nearly ninety times, and in the great majority of -cases it means the country. Often it has the epithets -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρεῖα</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρίβωλος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐριβώλαξ</span>, which speak for themselves. -But more commonly it is without an epithet; and then -too it very generally means the country. When the -Greeks speak, for example, of the voyage <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τροίηνδε</span>, this -is the natural sense, rather than to suppose it means a -city not on the sea shore, and into which, till the end -of the siege, they did not find their way at all<a name="FNanchor_478_478" id="FNanchor_478_478"></a><a href="#Footnote_478_478" class="fnanchor">[478]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Priam and his dynasty in Troas.</i></div> - -<p>According to the genealogical tree in the Twentieth -Iliad, Dardanus built Dardania among the mountains:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -his son Erichthonius became wealthy by possessions in -the plain; and Tros, the son of Erichthonius, was the -real founder of the Trojan state and name<a name="FNanchor_479_479" id="FNanchor_479_479"></a><a href="#Footnote_479_479" class="fnanchor">[479]</a>.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Τρῶα δ’ Ἐριχθόνιος τέκετο Τρώεσσιν ἄνακτα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus the name of Troes at that time covered the -whole race. But the town of Ilios must, from its name, -have been built not earlier than the time of Ilus, the son -of Tros. And now the dynasty separates into two lines, -as Assaracus, the brother of Ilus, continues to reign in -Dardania. Thus the local existence of the Dardanian -name is prolonged; for it is plain that the Dardanian -throne was associated, at least in dignity, with a rival, -and not a subordinate, sovereignty. Still it does not -extend beyond the hills. It was over these that Æneas -fled from Achilles<a name="FNanchor_480_480" id="FNanchor_480_480"></a><a href="#Footnote_480_480" class="fnanchor">[480]</a>. But even the Dardanians did not -wholly cease to be known by the appellation of Trojans; -for not only does Homer frequently use the -dominant name Troes for the entire force opposed -to the Greeks, which is naming the whole from the -principal part, but he also uses the word Troes to signify -all that part of the force, which was under the -house of Dardanus in either branch; and he distinguishes -this portion from the rest of the force described -under the name <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπίκουροι</span>, at the opening of the Trojan -Catalogue:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔνθα τότε Τρῶές τε διέκριθεν, ἠδ’ ἐπίκουροι</span><a name="FNanchor_481_481" id="FNanchor_481_481"></a><a href="#Footnote_481_481" class="fnanchor">[481]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This line is followed by an account of the whole -force opposed to the Greeks, in sixteen divisions. Of -these the eleven last bear each their own national -name, beginning with the Pelasgians of Larissa, and -ending with the Lycians; and they are under leaders,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -whom the whole course of the poem marks as not -being Trojan, but independent. These eleven evidently -were the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπίκουροι</span> of ver. 815.</p> - -<p>The five first contingents are introduced and commanded -as follows:</p> - -<p>1. Troes under Hector<a name="FNanchor_482_482" id="FNanchor_482_482"></a><a href="#Footnote_482_482" class="fnanchor">[482]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Τρωσὶ μὲν ἡγεμόνευε μέγας κορυθαίολος Ἕκτωρ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>2. Dardanians, under Æneas, with two of the (ten) -sons of Antenor, Archelochus and Acamas, for his -colleagues<a name="FNanchor_483_483" id="FNanchor_483_483"></a><a href="#Footnote_483_483" class="fnanchor">[483]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Δαρδανίων αὖτ’ ἦρχεν ἐῢς παῖς Ἀγχίσαο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>3. Trojans of Zelea, at the extreme spur of Ida, -under Pandarus<a name="FNanchor_484_484" id="FNanchor_484_484"></a><a href="#Footnote_484_484" class="fnanchor">[484]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἳ δὲ Ζέλειαν ἔναιον ὑπαὶ πόδα νείατον Ἴδης</div> - <div class="verse">Τρῶες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>4. People of Adresteia and other towns, under -Adrestus and Amphius, sons of Merops of Percote<a name="FNanchor_485_485" id="FNanchor_485_485"></a><a href="#Footnote_485_485" class="fnanchor">[485]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἳ δ’ Ἀδρήστειάν τ’ εἶχον, κ. τ. λ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>5. People of Percote and other towns, under Asius:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἳ δ’ ἄρα Περκώτην, κ. τ. λ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And then begins the enumeration of the Allies, each -under their respective national names.</p> - -<p>It seems evident, that these five first-named contingents -comprise the whole of the subjects of the race of -Dardanus. First come the Trojans of the capital and -its district, under Hector. Then, taking precedence on -account of dignity, the Dardanian division of Æneas. -In the third contingent the Poet returns to the name -Troes, which, I think, plainly enough overrides the -fourth and fifth, just as in the Greek Catalogue the -name Pelasgic Argos<a name="FNanchor_486_486" id="FNanchor_486_486"></a><a href="#Footnote_486_486" class="fnanchor">[486]</a> introduces and comprehends a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -number of contingents that follow, besides that of -Achilles.</p> - -<p>There are several reasons, which tend plainly to this -conclusion. The sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">διέκριθεν</span> (815) and the reference -to the diversity of tongues spoken (804) almost require -the division of the force between Troes and allies; -it is also the most natural division. The fourth and -fifth contingents are not indeed expressly called Troes, -but this name, already given to the third, may include -them. We must, I think, conclude that it does so, -when we find clear proof that they were not independent -national divisions: for the troops of Percote -were in the fifth, but the sons of Percosian Merops -command the fourth, a fact inexplicable if these were -the forces of independent States, but natural enough -if they were all under the supremacy of Priam and his -house.</p> - -<p>In the great battle of the Twelfth Iliad, the Trojans -are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πένταχα κοσμηθέντες</span> (xii. 87). Sarpedon commands -the allies with Glaucus and Asteropæus (v. 101), thus -accounting for eleven of the sixteen divisions in the -Catalogue. Æneas, with two sons of Antenor, commands -the Dardanians, thus disposing of a twelfth. -Again, Hector, with Polydamas and Cebriones, commands -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πλεῖστοι καὶ ἄριστοι</span>, evidently the division -standing first in the Catalogue. This makes the number -thirteen. The three remaining contingents of the -Catalogue are</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1. Zelean Troes, under Pandarus, (since slain,) Il. ii. -824-7.</p> - -<p>2. Adresteans &c. under Adrestus and Amphius, -(828-34,) both slain, Il. v. 612. vi. 63.</p> - -<p>3. Percotians &c. under Asius (835-9).</p></div> - -<p>These three remaining divisions of the Catalogue evi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>dently -reappear in the second and third of the five -Divisions of the Twelfth Book. The Second is under -Paris, with Alcathous, son-in-law of Antenor, and Agenor, -one of his sons. In the command of the Third, -Helenus and Deiphobus, two sons of Priam, are associated -with, and even placed before, Asius. The position -given in these divisions to the family of Priam appears -to prove, that the troops forming them were among his -proper subjects.</p> - -<p>Again, the territorial juxtaposition of these districts, -between Phrygia, which lay behind the mountains of -Ida, on the one side, and the sea of Marmora with the -Ægæan on the other, perfectly agrees with the description -in the Twenty-fourth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_487_487" id="FNanchor_487_487"></a><a href="#Footnote_487_487" class="fnanchor">[487]</a> of the range of country -within which Priam had the preeminence in wealth, and -in the vigour and influence of his sons. Strabo quotes -this passage as direct evidence that Priam reigned -over the country it describes, which is rather more -than it actually states; and he says that Troas certainly -reached to Adresteia and to Cyzicus.</p> - -<p>Again, we have various signs in different passages of a -political connection between the towns we have named -and the race of Priam. Melanippus, his nephew, was -employed before the war at Percote<a name="FNanchor_488_488" id="FNanchor_488_488"></a><a href="#Footnote_488_488" class="fnanchor">[488]</a>. Democoon<a name="FNanchor_489_489" id="FNanchor_489_489"></a><a href="#Footnote_489_489" class="fnanchor">[489]</a>, his -illegitimate son, tended horses at Abydus; doubtless, -says Strabo<a name="FNanchor_490_490" id="FNanchor_490_490"></a><a href="#Footnote_490_490" class="fnanchor">[490]</a>, the horses of his father.</p> - -<p>The partial inclusion of the Dardanians within the -name of Troes is further shown by the verse<a name="FNanchor_491_491" id="FNanchor_491_491"></a><a href="#Footnote_491_491" class="fnanchor">[491]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Αἰνεία, Τρώων βουληφόρε·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and by the appeal of Helenus to Æneas and Hector -jointly, as the persons chiefly responsible for the safety<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -of the Troes and Lycians: the name Lycians being -taken here, as in some other places<a name="FNanchor_492_492" id="FNanchor_492_492"></a><a href="#Footnote_492_492" class="fnanchor">[492]</a>, to denote most -probably a race akin to and locally interspersed with -the Trojans.</p> - -<p>But the Dardanians have more commonly their proper -designation separately given them. It never includes -the Troes. And we never find the two appellations, -Troes and Dardans, covering the entire force. -Whenever the Dardans are named with the Troes, -there is also another word, either <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπίκουροι</span>, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Λύκιοι</span>.</p> - -<p>The word Troes, it is right to add, is sometimes confined -strictly to the inhabitants of the city: but the -occasions are rare, and perhaps always with contextual -indications that such is the sense.</p> - -<p>Another sign that Priam exercised a direct sovereignty -over the territory which yielded the five contingents -may perhaps be found in the fact, that we do not -find any of his nephews in command of them. They were -led by their local officers, while the brothers of Priam -constituted a part of the community of Troy, and chiefly -influenced the Assembly: and their sons, though apparently -more considerable persons than most of those -local officers in general, simply appear as acting under -Hector without special command. The brothers of -Priam are Lampus, Clytius, and Hiketaon. His nephews -and other relatives are Dolops the son of -Lampus; Melanippus the son of Hiketaon; Polydamas, -Hyperenor, and Euphorbus, the sons of Panthous and -his wife Phrontis.</p> - -<p>Had the senior members of the family held local -sovereignties, we should have found their sons in local -commands. But we find only two sons of Antenor in -command, as either colleagues or lieutenants of Æneas,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -over the Dardans, whom we have no reason to suppose -they had any share in ruling.</p> - -<p>Strabo, indeed, contends, that there are nine separate -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δυναστεῖαι</span> immediately connected with Troy<a name="FNanchor_493_493" id="FNanchor_493_493"></a><a href="#Footnote_493_493" class="fnanchor">[493]</a>, besides -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπίκουροι</span>. Of these states one he thinks was Lelegian, -and was ruled over by Altes, father of Laothoe, -one of Priam’s wives. Another by Munes, husband of -Briseis. Another, Thebe, by Eetion, father of Andromache. -Others he considers to be represented by Anchises -and Pandarus: but this does not well agree with -the structure of the Catalogue. He refers also to Lyrnessus -and Pedasus; which are nowhere mentioned by -Homer as furnishing contingents, but they had apparently -been destroyed, as well as taken, by Achilles. -He places several of the dynasties in cities thus destroyed: -and they all, according to him, lay beyond the -limits marked out in the Twenty-fourth Iliad.</p> - -<p>This assemblage of facts appears to point to a very -great diversity of relations subsisting between Priam, -with his capital, and the states, cities, and races, of -which we hear as arrayed on his side in the war. -There are first the cities of Troas, or Troja proper, furnishing -the five, or if we except Dardania four out of -the five, first contingents of the Catalogue. Over these -Priam was sovereign.</p> - -<p>There are next the cities, so far as they can be traced, -under the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δυναστεῖαι</span> mentioned by Strabo, such as -Thebe, and the cities of Altes and Munes. These -were probably in the same sort of relation to the -sceptre of Priam, as the Greek states in general to -that of Agamemnon.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, there are the independent nations. Of these -eleven named in the Catalogue; others are added as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -newly arrived in the Tenth Book<a name="FNanchor_494_494" id="FNanchor_494_494"></a><a href="#Footnote_494_494" class="fnanchor">[494]</a>, and further additions -were subsequently made, such as the force under -Memnon, and the Keteians under Eurypylus<a name="FNanchor_495_495" id="FNanchor_495_495"></a><a href="#Footnote_495_495" class="fnanchor">[495]</a>. Nothing -perhaps tends so much, as the powerful assistance lent -to Priam by numerous and distant allies, to show how -justly in substance Horace has described the Trojan -war as the conflict between the Eastern and the Western -world. The two confederacies, which then came -into collision, between them absorbed the whole known -world of Homer; and foreshadowed the great conflicts -of later epochs.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Political institutions of Troy.</i></div> - -<p>We may now proceed to consider the political institutions -of the kingdom of Priam, which has thus -loosely been defined.</p> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλεὺς</span> of the Trojans is less clearly marked, -than he is among the Greeks: for (as we shall find) they -had no <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span>, and therefore we have not the same opportunities -of seeing the members of the highest class -collected for separate action in the conduct of the war. -Still, however, the name is distinctly given to the following -persons on the Trojan side, and to no others.</p> - -<p> -1. Priam, Il. v. 464, xxiv. 630.<br /> -2. Paris, iv. 96.<br /> -3. Rhesus, x. 435.<br /> -4. Sarpedon, xii. 319. xvi. 660.<br /> -5. Glaucus, xii. 319.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Among the Trojans, as among the Greeks, it was the -custom for the kings, as they descended into the vale -of years, to devolve the more active duties of kingship -on their children, and to retain, perhaps only for a -time, those of a sedentary character. Hence Hector -at least shares with Priam the management of Assemblies, -as it is he<a name="FNanchor_496_496" id="FNanchor_496_496"></a><a href="#Footnote_496_496" class="fnanchor">[496]</a> who dissolves that of the Second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -Book, and calls the military one of the Eighth. Hence, -too, he speaks of himself as the person responsible for -the burdens entailed by the war upon the Trojans. ‘I did -not,’ he says to the allies, ‘bring you from your cities -to multiply our numbers, but that you might defend -for me the wives and children of Trojans; with this -object in view, I exhaust the people for your pay and -provisions<a name="FNanchor_497_497" id="FNanchor_497_497"></a><a href="#Footnote_497_497" class="fnanchor">[497]</a>.’ Hence we have Æneas leading the Dardanians, -while his father Anchises nowhere appears, -and, as it must be presumed, remains in his capital. -Hence, while ten or twelve sons of Antenor bear arms -for Troy, and two of them are the colleagues of Æneas -in the command of the Dardanian contingent, their -father appears among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span>, who were -chief speakers in the Assembly within the city. We -do not know that Antenor was a king; more probably -he held a lordship subordinate to Priam, in a relation -somewhat more strict than that between Agamemnon -and the Greek chieftains, and rather resembling that -between Peleus and Menœtius; but the same custom -of partial retirement seems to have prevailed in the case -of subaltern rulers, as indeed it would be dictated by -the same reasons of prudence and necessity.</p> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλήϊς τιμὴ</span> of Troy was not, any more than -those of Greece, an absolute despotism. In Troy, as -in Greece, the public affairs were discussed and settled -in the Assemblies, though with differences, which will -be noticed, from the Greek manner of procedure. It -was in the Assembly that Iris, disguised as Polites, -addressed Priam and Hector to advise a review of the -army<a name="FNanchor_498_498" id="FNanchor_498_498"></a><a href="#Footnote_498_498" class="fnanchor">[498]</a>. And it was again in an Assembly that Antenor -proposed, and that Paris refused, to give up Helen: -whereupon Priam proposed the mission of Idæus to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -ask for a truce with a view to the burial of the dead, -and the people assented to the proposal<a name="FNanchor_499_499" id="FNanchor_499_499"></a><a href="#Footnote_499_499" class="fnanchor">[499]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δ’ ἄρα τοῦ μάλα μὲν κλύον ἠδ’ ἐπίθοντο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was in the Assembly, too, that those earlier proposals -had been made, of which the same personage -procured the defeat by corruption.</p> - -<p>Lastly, in the Eighth Book, Hector<a name="FNanchor_500_500" id="FNanchor_500_500"></a><a href="#Footnote_500_500" class="fnanchor">[500]</a>, as we have -seen, holds a military <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of the army by the banks of -the Scamander. At this he invites them to bivouac -outside the Greek rampart, and they accept his proposal -by acclamation. This Assembly on the field of -battle is an argument <i>a fortiori</i> to show, that ordinary -affairs were referred among the Trojans to such meetings. -We have, indeed, no detail of any Trojan Assembly -except these three. But we have references to them, -which give a similar view of their nature and functions. -Idæus, on his return, announces to the Assembly that -the truce is granted<a name="FNanchor_501_501" id="FNanchor_501_501"></a><a href="#Footnote_501_501" class="fnanchor">[501]</a>. It is plain that the restoration -of Helen was debated before, as well as during the war, -in the Assembly of the people; because Agamemnon -slays the two sons of Antimachus on the special ground -that the father had there proposed that Menelaus, if -not Ulysses, should be murdered<a name="FNanchor_502_502" id="FNanchor_502_502"></a><a href="#Footnote_502_502" class="fnanchor">[502]</a>, when they came as -Envoys to Troy, for the purpose of demanding her -restoration. This Antimachus was bribed by Paris, as -the Poet tells us, to oppose the measure<a name="FNanchor_503_503" id="FNanchor_503_503"></a><a href="#Footnote_503_503" class="fnanchor">[503]</a>. Again, -Polydamas, in one of his speeches, charges Hector with -having used him roughly, when he had ventured to differ -from him in the Assemblies, upon the ground that -he ought not, as a stranger to the Trojan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῆμος</span>, to promote -dissension among them<a name="FNanchor_504_504" id="FNanchor_504_504"></a><a href="#Footnote_504_504" class="fnanchor">[504]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> - -<p>Trojan institutions do not, then, present to our view -a greater elevation of the royal office. On the contrary, -it is remarkable, that the title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέρων</span>, -which Homer applies to the chief speakers of the -Trojan Assembly, not being kings, is also used by him -to describe Ilus the founder of the city<a name="FNanchor_505_505" id="FNanchor_505_505"></a><a href="#Footnote_505_505" class="fnanchor">[505]</a>. It is, however, -possible, perhaps even likely, that this title may -be applied to Ilus as a younger son, if his brother -Assaracus was the eldest and the heir<a name="FNanchor_506_506" id="FNanchor_506_506"></a><a href="#Footnote_506_506" class="fnanchor">[506]</a>.</p> - -<p>But although it thus appears that monarchy was -limited in Troy, as it was in Greece, and that public -affairs were conducted in the assemblies of the people, -the method and organization of these Assemblies was -different in the two cases.</p> - -<p>1. The guiding element in the Trojan government -seems to have been age combined with rank; while -among the Greeks, wisdom and valour were qualifications, -not less available than age and rank.</p> - -<p>2. The Greeks had the institution of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, which -preceded and prepared matter for their Assemblies. -The Trojans had not.</p> - -<p>3. The Greeks, as we have seen, employed oratory as -a main instrument of government; the Trojans did not.</p> - -<p>4. The aged members of the Trojan royal family -rendered their aid to the state, not as counsellors of -Priam in private meetings, but only in the Assembly of -the people.</p> - -<p>A few words on each of these heads.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The greater weight of Age in Troy.</i></div> - -<p>1. The old men who appear on the wall with Priam, -in the Third Book, are really old, and not merely titular -or official <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>; they are<a name="FNanchor_507_507" id="FNanchor_507_507"></a><a href="#Footnote_507_507" class="fnanchor">[507]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">γήραϊ δὴ πολέμοιο πεπαυμένοι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There are no less than seven of them, besides Priam.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -Three are his brothers, Lampus, Clytius, Hiketaon; -the others probably relatives, we know not in what -precise degree: Panthous, Thymœtes, Ucalegon, Antenor. -They are called collectively the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τρώων ἡγήτορες</span>, -as well as the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορηταὶ ἐσθλοί</span>; and they were manifestly -habitual speakers in the Assembly.</p> - -<p>There is nothing in the Greek life of the Homeric -poems that comes near this aggregation of aged men. -Now we have no evidence, that their being thus collected -was in any degree owing to the war. Theano, wife of -Antenor, was priestess of Minerva in Troy; which makes -it most probable that he resided there habitually, and -not only on account of the war.</p> - -<p>The only group at all approaching this is, where we -see Menœtius and Phœnix at the Court of Peleus; but -we cannot say whether this was a permanent arrangement. -Phœnix, as we know, was lord of the Dolopians, -and if so, could not have been a standing assistant at -the court of Peleus; we do not know that the Trojan -elders held any such local position apart from Troy, -even in any single case; and on the other hand, we -have no knowledge whether Phœnix and Menœtius, -even when at the court of Peleus, took any share in the -government of his immediate dominions. The name -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span>, as usually employed among the Greeks to describe -a class, had no necessary relation to age whatever.</p> - -<p>Of the respect paid to age in Greece, we have abundant -evidence; but we find nothing like this gathering -together of a body of old men to be the ordinary guides -of popular deliberation in the Assemblies.</p> - -<p>It is true that we hear by implication of both Hector -and Polydamas, who were not old, as taking part in -affairs: but all the indications in the Iliad go to show -that Hector’s share in the government of Troy, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -not limited to the mere conduct of the forces in the -field, yet arose out of his military office, and probably -touched only such matters as were connected with the -management of the war. Polydamas evidently was -treated as more or less an interloper.</p> - -<p>But even if it were otherwise, and if the middle-aged -men of high station and ability took a prominent part -in affairs, the existence of this grey-headed company, -with apparently the principal statesmanship of Troy in -their hands, forms a marked difference from Greek -manners. For in Greece at peace we have nothing -akin to it; while in Greece at war upon the plain of -Troy, we see the young Diomed as well as the old -Nestor, and the rather young Achilles and Ajax, as -well as the elderly Idomeneus, associated with the middle-aged -men in the government of the army and its -operations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The absence of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βουλὴ</span> in Troy.</i></div> - -<p>First then, I think it plain that the Trojans had no -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, for the following reasons:</p> - -<p>1. That although we often hear of deliberations and -decisions taken on the part of the Trojans, and we -have instances enough of their holding assemblies of -the people, yet we never find mention of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, or -Council, in connection with them.</p> - -<p>2. In the Second Book, Homer describes the Trojan -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> thus (Il. ii. 788, 9):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δ’ ἀγορὰς ἀγόρευον ἐπὶ Πριάμοιο θύρῃσιν</div> - <div class="verse">πάντες ὁμηγερέες, ἠμὲν νέοι ἠδὲ γέροντες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This latter line is only to be accounted for by the supposition, -that Homer meant to describe a difference -between the usages of the Trojans, and those of the -Greeks; whose <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> were recognised as members of -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, even when in the Assemblies.</p> - -<p>Of the separate place of the Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -Assemblies, we have conclusive proof from the Shield -of Achilles (xviii. 497, 503):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">λαοὶ δ’ εἰν ἀγορῇ ἔσαν ἄθροοι·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and afterwards,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">οἱ δὲ γέροντες</div> - <div class="verse">εἵατ’ ἐπὶ ξεστοῖσι λίθοις, ἱερῷ ἐνὶ κύκλῳ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And again, where the Ithacan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> make way for -Telemachus, as he passes to the chair of his father.</p> - -<p>But in Troy the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> (such is probably the -meaning of Il. ii. 789.) have no separate function: the -young and the old meet together: while in Greece, -besides distinct places in the Assembly, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες</span> -had an exclusive function in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, at which they -met separately from the young.</p> - -<p>3. It would appear that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> was with the -Trojans not occasional, as with the Greeks, for great -questions, but habitual. And this agrees with the description -in Il. ii. 788. For when Jupiter sends Iris to -Troy, she finds the people in Assembly, but apparently -for no special purpose, as she immediately, in the likeness -of Polites, begins to address Priam, and we do not -hear of any other business. So, when Idæus came back -from the Greeks, he found the Trojan Assembly still -sitting. All this looks as if the entire business of administering -the government rested with that body only.</p> - -<p>I draw a similar inference from the remarkable expression -in Il. ii. 788, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὰς ἀγόρευον</span>. This seems to -express that there was a standing, probably a daily, -assembly of the Trojans, not formally summoned, and -open to all comers, which acted as the governing body -for the state. The line would then mean, not simply -‘the Trojans were holding an assembly,’ but ‘the Trojans -were holding their assembly as usual.’</p> - -<p>The names <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλευτὴς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορητὴς</span> appear to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -been merely descriptive, and not titular. Both are -applied to the Trojan elders.</p> - -<p>And so <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλαὶ</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλεύειν</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουληφόροι</span>, are constantly -used without any, so to speak, official meaning. In -Il. x. 147, the expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὰς βουλεύειν</span> can hardly -mean ‘to attend the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>,’ for the singular number -would be the proper term for the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> specially convoked: -and I interpret it as meaning, to attend at or to -hold the usual council. This is among the Greeks. -Among the Trojans, in Il. x. 415-17, Dolon says,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ἕκτωρ μὲν μετὰ τοῖσιν, ὅσοι βουληφόροι εἰσὶν,</div> - <div class="verse">βουλὰς βουλεύει θείου παρὰ σήματι Ἴλου,</div> - <div class="verse">νόσφιν ἀπὸ φλοίσβου.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουληφόρος</span> is applied, Il. xii. 414, to -Sarpedon, as well as in xiii. 463 and elsewhere to Æneas. -Neither were among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γέροντες βουλευταί</span>. But further, -it is applied, Od. ix. 112, to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> itself:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τοῖσιν δ’ οὔτ’ ἀγοραὶ βουληφόροι, οὔτε θέμιστες</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And therefore the word, though it means councillor in -a general sense, does not mean officially member of a -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, as opposed to an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> or Assembly.</p> - -<p>The phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὰς βουλεύει</span>, in the passage Il. x. -415-17, does not oppose, but supports what has now -been said. It is quite plain that this of Hector’s was -a small military meeting, or council of war, just as in -viii. 489 he held an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>, or assembly of the army, both -Trojans and allies; it was not a meeting of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> of -Troy, because it was held in the field, far from the city, -and without any of the Elders, who were the great -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορηταὶ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλευταὶ</span> of Troy; for Hector had already -arranged (Il. viii. 517-19) that the old men should -remain in the city, to defend the walls from any night -attack: most of all however because, as we hear of no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> before the military Assembly in the Eighth -Book, so we hear of no Assembly following the meeting -for deliberation in the Tenth. Generals in modern -times hold councils of war: but no parallel can be -drawn between them, and Councils for dispatching the -affairs of a State.</p> - -<p>As we never have occasion to become acquainted -with Trojan politics in peace, we can only argue the -case as to the nonexistence of a council from the state -of war. But in Greece, it will be remembered, both -war and peace present their cases of the use of this -institution, as one regularly established, and apparently -invested with both a deliberative and an executive -character.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The greater weight of oratory in Greece.</i></div> - -<p>It is next to be inquired, whether the Trojans, like -the Greeks, employed eloquence, detailed argument as -furnishing, and the other parts of oratory, a main instrument -of government.</p> - -<p>I think it is plain, that the decisions of their Assemblies -were governed rather by simple authority; by -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀναποδεικταὶ φάσεις</span>, the simple declarations, of persons -of weight.</p> - -<p>The report of the re-assembled <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of the Greeks -in the Second Book begins with the 211th line, and -ends with the 398th: occupying 188 lines. But the -Trojan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of the same Book is despatched in twenty-one -lines (788-808).</p> - -<p>A more remarkable example is afforded by the second -Trojan Assembly (Il. vii. 345-379). For this <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> -is described as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεινὴ, τετρηχυῖα</span>; and well it might be, in -circumstances so arduous. The Elders in the Third -Book were of opinion that, beautiful as Helen was, it -was better to restore her, than to continue the sufferings -and dangers of the war. Accordingly, Antenor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -urged in this Assembly that she should be restored, -together with the plundered property. He referred -also to the recent breach of a sworn covenant on the -Trojan side, and said no good could come of it. This -he effects in a speech of six lines; the first of which is -the mere vocative address to the Assembly, and the last -is marked as surplusage with the <i>obelos</i> (348-53).</p> - -<p>Paris, the person mainly concerned, replies. He does -not address himself to the Assembly at all, but to Antenor: -and he disposes of the subject of debate in eight -lines (357-64). Four of them are given to the announcement -of his intentions, and four to abuse of -Antenor.</p> - -<p>It was impossible to conceive a subject more likely -to cause debate; and excitement we see there was, but -after the speech of Paris, nothing more was said about -Helen, either for or against the restoration. Priam -then arose, and in a speech of eleven lines (368-78) laid -down another plan of proceeding, namely, by a message -to the Greeks for a truce with a view to funeral obsequies, -which was at once accepted.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Oratory of greater weight in Greece.</i></div> - -<p>Nowhere, in short, among the Trojans have we any -example, I do not say of multiplied or lengthened -speeches, but of real reasoning and deliberation in the -conduct of business: though Glaucus tells his story at -great length to Diomed on the field of battle (Il. vi. -145-211), and Æneas to Achilles (Il. xx. 199-258) -nearly equals him. Indeed, it may almost be said, the -Trojans are long speakers when in battle, and short -when in debate: the Greeks copious in debate, but very -succinct in battle.</p> - -<p>Again, we may observe the different descriptions -which the Poet has given of the elocution of Nestor, -and of that of the Trojan <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span> in their re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>spective -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγοραί</span>. To Nestor (Il. i. 248, 9) he seems to -assign a soft continuous flow indefinitely prolonged. -Theirs he describes as resembling the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄπα λειριόεσσαν</span> -of grasshoppers (Il. iii. 151, 2), a clear trill or thread of -voice, not only without any particular idea of length -attached to it, but apparently meant to recall a sharp -intermittent chirp. Yet there is an odd proof that to -Priam at least, as one of these old men, there was attached, -by the younger ones, the imputation of favouring -either too many or else too long orations. For, -in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span> of the Second Book, Iris in the character -of Polites, though there is no account of what had -preceded her arrival, objurgates Priam as both then -encouraging what may be called indiscriminate speaking, -and as having formally, before the war, been addicted -to the same practice<a name="FNanchor_508_508" id="FNanchor_508_508"></a><a href="#Footnote_508_508" class="fnanchor">[508]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὦ γέρον, αἰεί τοι μῦθοι φίλοι ἄκριτοί εἰσιν,</div> - <div class="verse">ὥς ποτ’ ἐπ’ εἰρήνης.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Upon the whole, I think it must have been Homer’s -intention, while representing both Trojans and Greeks -as carrying on public affairs in their public Assemblies, -to draw a very marked distinction between them in regard -to the use of that powerful engine of oratory, -which played so conspicuous a part in the former, as -well as in the later stages of the Greek history.</p> - -<p>And it is important, that nowhere does a sentiment -escape the lips of a Trojan chieftain, which indicates a -consciousness of the political value of oratory. Ulysses, -in a state of peace, describes before the Phæacians -beauty and eloquence as the noblest gifts of the gods to -man<a name="FNanchor_509_509" id="FNanchor_509_509"></a><a href="#Footnote_509_509" class="fnanchor">[509]</a>: and employs <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔπεα</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόος</span>, eloquence and intelligence, -as convertible terms. Polydamas, when rebuking -Hector in the Thirteenth Iliad, delivers a pas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>sage -in many respects strikingly analogous. He speaks, -however, of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>, mind and counsel<a name="FNanchor_510_510" id="FNanchor_510_510"></a><a href="#Footnote_510_510" class="fnanchor">[510]</a>; he -does not drop a word relating to public speech or to -eloquence as instruments of government, though he -describes the mental quality and the habit which he -names as of priceless value for the benefit of States.</p> - -<p>The phrases applied to the Trojan elders appear to -indicate, that they derived their political character -from taking a prominent part in the Assembly, and -from that alone. For the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέρων</span> indicates an -elder acting in and among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῆμος</span>, or people. And -this name the Poet uses but twice: once in Il. iii. 149, -where he enumerates the eight persons, who bore that -character in Troy; and once with reference to Ilus (Il. -ii. 372). Homer nowhere employs this term for any of -the Greeks.</p> - -<p>The want of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span> shows us, that there was no -balance of forces in the Trojan polity, less security -against precipitate action, more liability to high-handed -insolence and oppression of the people, and, on the -other hand, unless the danger had been neutralized by -mildness or lethargy of character, likewise in all likelihood -to revolutionary change.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Trojans less gifted with self-command.</i></div> - -<p>Again, on the Trojan side we do not find the silence -and self-possession of the Greeks. After the enumeration -in the Third Book, at its opening, we find that -the Trojans marched with din and buzz:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Τρῶες μὲν κλαγγῇ τ’ ἐνοπῇ τ’ ἴσαν, ὄρνιθες ὥς·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>but as to the Greeks, we are told that they marched -in profound silence: and the Poet skilfully heightens -the contrast by mentioning that they breathed forth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -what they did not articulate, and that they were steeled -with firm resolution to stand by one another<a name="FNanchor_511_511" id="FNanchor_511_511"></a><a href="#Footnote_511_511" class="fnanchor">[511]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δ’ ἄρ’ ἴσαν σιγῇ μένεα πνείοντες Ἀχαιοὶ,</div> - <div class="verse">ἐν θυμῷ μεμαῶτες ἀλεξέμεν ἀλλήλοισιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We are finally told that each leader indeed gave the -word to his men, while all beside were mute<a name="FNanchor_512_512" id="FNanchor_512_512"></a><a href="#Footnote_512_512" class="fnanchor">[512]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">οἱ δ’ ἄλλοι ἀκὴν ἴσαν, οὐδέ κε φαίης</div> - <div class="verse">τόσσον λαὸν ἕπεσθαι ἔχοντ’ ἐν στήθεσιν αὐδὴν,</div> - <div class="verse">σιγῇ δειδιότες σημάντορας·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>but from the Trojans there arose a sound, like that of -sheep bleating for their lambs<a name="FNanchor_513_513" id="FNanchor_513_513"></a><a href="#Footnote_513_513" class="fnanchor">[513]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς Τρώων ἀλαλητὸς ἀνὰ στρατὸν εὐρὺν ὀρώρει.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And, again, we find the relation of the burning of -the dead given with the usual consistency of the Poet. -The men of the two armies met: and on both sides -they shed tears as they lifted their lifeless comrades on -the wagons: but, he adds, there was silence among the -Trojans,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ εἴα κλαίειν Πρίαμος μέγας·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and it was because the king had felt that there would -be indecency in a noisy show of sorrow: while the -Greeks needed not the injunction (Il. vii. 426-32), -from their spontaneous self-command.</p> - -<p>When the Poet speaks of the Trojan Assembly in -the Seventh Book as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεινὴ τετρηχυῖα</span>, he evidently -means to describe an excitement tending to disorder: -and one contrasted in a remarkable manner with the discipline -of the Greeks, who were summoned to meet -silently in the night, that they might not, in gathering, -arouse the enemy outside the ramparts. Even in their -respective modes of expressing approbation, Homer -makes a shade of difference. When the Greeks applaud, -it is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπίαχον υἷες Ἀχαιῶν</span>, or what we call loud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -or vehement cheering: but when the Trojans, it is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ -δὲ Τρῶες κελάδησαν</span>, which signifies a more miscellaneous -and tumultuous noise.</p> - -<p>In short, it would appear to be the intention of Homer -to represent the Greeks as possessed of a higher -intelligence throughout. In the Odyssey, we find that -Ulysses made his way into Troy disguised as a beggar, -communicated with Helen, duly informed himself -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κατὰ δὲ φρόνιν ἤγαγε πολλήν</span><a name="FNanchor_514_514" id="FNanchor_514_514"></a><a href="#Footnote_514_514" class="fnanchor">[514]</a>), and contrived to despatch -certain of the Trojans before he departed. In -the Iliad we are supplied with abundant instances of -the superior management of the Greeks, and likewise -of their auxiliary gods, in comparison with those of the -Trojans. Juno outwits Venus in obtaining from her -the cestus, and then proceeds to outwit Jupiter in the -use of it. Minerva, on observing that the Greeks are -losing, (Il. vii. 17) betakes herself to Troy, where Apollo -proposes just what she wants, namely, a cessation of -the general engagement, with a view to a personal encounter -between Hector and some chosen chieftain: -she immediately adopts the plan; and he causes it to -be executed through Helenus. It both stops the general -havoc among the Greeks, and redounds greatly -to the honour of their champion Ajax. At the end of -the day, however, Nestor suggests to the Greek chiefs, -on account of their heavy losses (Il. vii. 328), that they -should, on the occasion of raising a mound over their -dead, likewise dig and fortify a trench, which might -serve to defend the ships and camp. In the mean time -the Trojans are made to meet; and they send to propose -the very measure, namely, an armistice for funeral -rites, which the Greeks desire, in order, under cover of -it, to fortify themselves (Il. vii. 368-97). And this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -accordingly Agamemnon is enabled to grant as a sort -of favour to the Trojans (Il. vii. 408):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀμφὶ δὲ νεκροῖσιν κατακαιέμεν οὔτι μεγαίρω.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This superior intelligence is probably meant to be -figured by the exchange of arms between Glaucus and -Diomed. And, again, when Hector attempts anything -in the nature of a stratagem, as the mission of Dolon -by night, it is only that he may fall into the hands of -Diomed and Ulysses. But there does not appear to be -in any of these cases a violation of oath, compact, or -any absolute rule of equity by the Greeks.</p> - -<p>Of all these traits, however, it may be said, that they -are of no value as evidence, if taken by themselves. -They are means which would obviously occur to the -Poet, zealous for his own nation. It is their accordance -with other indications, apparently undesigned, -which warrants our relying upon them as real testimonies, -available for an historic purpose.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Difference in pursuits of high-born youth.</i></div> - -<p>Although, on the whole, we seem to have the signs -of greater wealth among the Trojans than the Greeks, -yet in certain points also their usages were more primitive -and simple. Thus we find the youths of the -house of Nestor immediately about his person; and -Patroclus, as well as Achilles, was apparently brought -up at the court of Peleus. Again, the youthful Nestor -travels into Thessaly for a campaign: Ulysses goes to -hunt at the Court of his grandfather Autolycus. The -Ithacan Suitors employ themselves in manly games. -But we frequently come upon passages where we are -incidentally informed, that the princes of the house of -Dardanus were occupied in rustic employments. Thus -Melanippus, son of Hiketaon, and cousin of Hector, -who was residing in Priam’s palace, and treated as one -of his children, had before the war tended oxen in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -Percote<a name="FNanchor_515_515" id="FNanchor_515_515"></a><a href="#Footnote_515_515" class="fnanchor">[515]</a>. Æneas, the only son and heir of Anchises, -had been similarly occupied among or near the hills, at -the time when he had a narrow escape from capture by -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_516_516" id="FNanchor_516_516"></a><a href="#Footnote_516_516" class="fnanchor">[516]</a>. Lycaon, son of Priam, was cutting the -branches of the wild fig for the fellies of chariot-wheels -when Achilles took him for the second time: on -the first occasion, he had been at work in a vineyard<a name="FNanchor_517_517" id="FNanchor_517_517"></a><a href="#Footnote_517_517" class="fnanchor">[517]</a>. -Antiphos and Isos, sons of Priam, had been captured -by Achilles whilst they were acting as shepherds<a name="FNanchor_518_518" id="FNanchor_518_518"></a><a href="#Footnote_518_518" class="fnanchor">[518]</a>. -Anchises was acting as a herdsman, when he formed -his connection with Venus<a name="FNanchor_519_519" id="FNanchor_519_519"></a><a href="#Footnote_519_519" class="fnanchor">[519]</a>. The name of Boucolion, -an illegitimate son of Laomedon, seems to indicate that -he was bred for the like occupation<a name="FNanchor_520_520" id="FNanchor_520_520"></a><a href="#Footnote_520_520" class="fnanchor">[520]</a>.</p> - -<p>From the force, variety, and extreme delicacy of his -uses of the word, it is evident that Homer set very -great store by the sentiment which is generally expressed -through the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰδώς</span>, and which ranges through -all the varieties of shame, honour, modesty, and reverence. -Though a minute, it is a remarkable circumstance, -that he confines the application of this term -to the Greeks; except, I think, in one passage, where -he bestows it upon his particular favourites the Lycians<a name="FNanchor_521_521" id="FNanchor_521_521"></a><a href="#Footnote_521_521" class="fnanchor">[521]</a>, -and a single other one, where Æneas<a name="FNanchor_522_522" id="FNanchor_522_522"></a><a href="#Footnote_522_522" class="fnanchor">[522]</a> employs -it under the immediate inspiration of Apollo, with another -sense, in an appeal to Hector and his brother -chiefs, not to the soldiery at large.</p> - -<p>With the Greeks it supplies the staple of military -exhortation<a name="FNanchor_523_523" id="FNanchor_523_523"></a><a href="#Footnote_523_523" class="fnanchor">[523]</a> from the chiefs to the army; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰδὼς, -Ἀργεῖοι</span>.</p> - -<p>But quite a different form of speech is uniformly addressed -to the Trojans proper: it is</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀνέρες ἔστε, φίλοι, μνήσασθε δὲ θουρίδος ἀλκῆς</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>which is below the other, and appeals to a less peculiar -and refined frame of intelligence and of sentiment.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Summary of differences.</i></div> - -<p>Whatever may be thought of the degree of detail -into which (guided as I think by the text) I have ventured -to carry this discussion, and of the particularity -of some of the inferences that have been drawn, I venture -to hope few will quit the subject without the conviction -that Homer has worked with the purpose and -precision which are his wont, in the diversities which -mark the general outline of his Greeks and his Trojans, -and of the institutions of each respectively; and that he -has not altogether withheld from his national portraits -the care, which he is admitted to have applied to his individual -characters on both sides with such extraordinary -success. If we look to the institutions of the two countries, -although the comparison is diversified, we must -upon the whole concede to the Greeks, that they had -laid more firmly than their adversaries those great corner -stones of human society, which are named in their -language, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θέμις</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅρκος</span>, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γάμος</span>. In the polity of Troy -we find more scope for impulse, less for deliberation and -persuasion; more weight given to those elements of authority -which do not depend on our free will and intelligence, -less to those which do; less of organization and -of diversity, less firmness and tenacity of tissue, in -the structure of the community. We are told of no -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φῦλα</span> and no <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φρῆτραι</span>, no intermediate ranks of officers -in the army; no order of nobles or proprietors, such -as that which furnished the Suitors of Ithaca. There -are, in short, fewer secondary eminences; it is a state -of things, more resembling the dead level of the present -Oriental communities subject to a despotic throne, -though such was not the throne of Priam. Among the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -people themselves, there is more of religious observance -and apparatus, but not more of morality: less tendency -indeed to crimes of violence and turbulence, but also -less of truth, of honour, above all of personal self-mastery -and self-command. The Greeks never would -have produced the Paris of the Iliad; for on behalf of -no such dastard would they have been induced to bleed. -But if they had engendered such a creature, they -would not have paid the penalty: for man in the Trojan -type would not have had the energy to recover it from -the warrior-statesmen of the Achæan race, and under no -circumstances could the really extravagant sentiment -put by Virgil into the mouth of Diomed<a name="FNanchor_524_524" id="FNanchor_524_524"></a><a href="#Footnote_524_524" class="fnanchor">[524]</a> have been -fulfilled:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6">ultro Inachias venisset ad urbes</div> - <div class="verse">Dardanus, et versis lugeret Græcia fatis.</div> -</div></div></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">III. THALASSA.<br /> - -<span class="smaller">THE OUTER GEOGRAPHY OF THE ODYSSEY.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>The legendary Geography of the Odyssey may in one -sense be compared with that of Ariosto, and that of -Bojardo. I should be the first, indeed, to admit that -a disquisition, having for its object to establish the delimitation -of the Geography of either of those poets, -and to fix its relation to the actual surface of the earth, -was but labour thrown away. For two thousand years, -however, perhaps for more, the Geography of the -Odyssey has been a subject of interest and of controversy. -In entering upon that field I ask myself, why -the case of Homer is in this respect so different from -that of the great Italian romancers? It is not only -that, great as they were, we are dealing with one before -whom their greatness dwindles into comparative littleness. -Nor is it only, though it seems to be in part, -because the adventures of Ulysses are, or appear to be, -much more strictly bound up with place, than those of -Orlando, Rinaldo, or Ruggiero. The difference, I -think, mainly lies in this, that an intense earnestness -accompanies Homer every where, even through his -wild and noble romance. Cooped up as he was within -a narrow and local circle—for such it was, though it -was for so many centuries the centre of the whole -greatness of the world—here is his effort to pass the -horizon ‘by strength of thought;’ to pierce the mist;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -to shape the dim, confused, and conflicting reports -he could pick up, according to the best of his knowledge -and belief, into land and sea; to people its -habitable spots with the scanty material he could command, -every where enlarged, made good, and adorned -out of the wealth of his vigorous imagination; and to -form, by effort of the brain, for the first time as far as -we know in the history of our race, an idea of a certain -configuration for the surface of the Earth.</p> - -<p>Hence, perhaps, may have flowed the potency of the -charm, which has attended the subject of Homer’s -Outer Geography. The subject has, however, in my -belief, its utility too. It is rarely otherwise than well -worth while to trace even the erroneous thoughts of -powerful minds. But, moreover, in the present instance, -I apprehend we can learn, through the Outer Geography -of Homer, important and interesting matter of history, -which is not to be learned from any other source. For -the Poet has embedded into his imaginative scheme a -multitude of real geographical and physical traditions; -and by means of these, upon comparing them with -their proper originals, we can judge with tolerable -accuracy what were the limits of human enterprise on -the face of earth in the heroic age.</p> - -<p>The question before us is, what map of the earth did -Homer shape in his own mind, that he might adjust to -it the voyages and tours of his heroes Menelaus and -Ulysses, particularly the latter? And in order to a -legitimate inquiry the first step to be taken is negative. -Do not let us engage in the vain attempt to construct -the Geography of the Odyssey upon the basis of the -actual distribution of the earth’s surface. Such a -process can lead to no satisfactory result. Whatever -materials Homer may have obtained to assist him, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -must consider as so many atoms; I speak of course, as to -all that lay beyond the narrow sphere of his Greek knowledge -and experience. He had no adequate means of -placing the different parts of the accounts which reached -him in their true geographical relations to one another. -The outer world was for him broken up into fragments, -and these fragments were rearranged at his pleasure, -with the aid of such lights only, as his limited physical -knowledge could afford him.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Principal heads of the inquiry.</i></div> - -<p>Assuming for the present that the Phœnicianism -of the Outer Geography has been on the whole sufficiently -proved, I proceed to a more exact examination -of the subject itself; and I propose to inquire into the -following questions.</p> - -<p>1. Has Homer two modes of dealing with the subject -of locality, considered at large? if so, can it be shown -that he applies them to two distinct geographical -regions; one the circumscribed central tract of land -and sea within which he lived, the other a wider and -larger zone, which lay beyond it in all directions; and -can a line be drawn with reasonable confidence and precision -between these geographical regions accordingly?</p> - -<p>2. If it be established that Homer has a system of -Outer Geography, severed by a sufficiently-defined -barrier from his Inner Geography, then are there any, -and if so what, keys, or leading ideas of local arrangement -for the former scheme, which, themselves derived -from the evidence of his text, should be used for the -adjustment of its details?</p> - -<p>3. Under the system thus ascertained, what was the -route of Menelaus, and more especially of Ulysses, as -these presented themselves to the mind of Homer?</p> - -<p>I set out from the proposition, which, as I conceive, -rests upon universal consent, that within a certain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -sphere the poems may be considered as a record of experimental -geography; and one sometimes carried down -into detail with so much of accuracy, that it embraces -even the miniature of that branch of knowledge, to -which we usually give the name of topography.</p> - -<p>By way of example for the former, I should say that -when Homer describes the Bœotian towns, when he -measures the distance over the Ægean, nay, when he -makes Ulysses represent that he floated in ten days -from some point near Crete to the Thesprotian coast, -he is a geographer. Again, in his variously estimated -account of the interior of Ithaca, he is a topographer. He -is the same on the whole, though probably with greater -license, when he is dealing with the Plain of Troy.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The two spheres of Geography.</i></div> - -<p>In speaking of the experimental geography of -Homer, of course I do not intend to imply that he -had, even within his narrow sphere, the means that -later science has afforded of establishing situations and -distances with absolute precision. He could only proceed -by the far ruder testimony of the senses, trained -in the school of experience. Neither do I mean that -the experience was in every case his own, though to a -great extent his geographical information was probably -original, and acquired by him principally in the exercise -of his profession as an itinerating Bard. But by the -experimental and real geography of Homer, I mean -these two things; first, that the Poet believed himself -to be describing <i>pro tanto</i> points upon the earth’s -surface as they actually were; secondly, that his means -of information were for practical purposes adequate. -The evidence of the passage containing the simile of -the Thought (Il. xv. 580) would suffice, were there none -other, to show that he was himself a traveller; he also -lived among a people already accustomed to travel, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -familiar with the navigation of a certain portion of the -earth’s surface. In a former part of this work I have -given several instances to illustrate the disposition -of the early Greeks with respect to travel<a name="FNanchor_525_525" id="FNanchor_525_525"></a><a href="#Footnote_525_525" class="fnanchor">[525]</a>. A people -of habits like theirs was well qualified to supply a -practical system of geography for the whole sphere -with which it was habitually conversant.</p> - -<p>But the boldness and maturity of navigation may be -measured pretty nearly by the length of its voyages. -The geographical particulars of the Wanderings, however -dislocated and distorted, show us that the people -who had supplied them had acquired a considerable -acquaintance with all the waters within, and probably -also, nay, I should be disposed to say certainly, some -that were without, the Straits of Gibraltar. But in all -the poems of Homer we find the traces of Greek -knowledge and resort become fainter and fainter, as -we pass beyond certain points. On the Greek Peninsula, -to the south of the Ambracian gulf on the west -and of Mount Olympus on the east, we have the signs -of a constant intercourse to and fro. The same tokens -extend to the islands immediately surrounding it, and -reaching at least as far as Crete. Indeed, apart from -particular signs, we may say that, without familiar and -frequent intercourse among the members that composed -it, the empire of Agamemnon could not have -subsisted.</p> - -<p>But, at certain distances, the mode of geographical -handling becomes faint, mistrustful, and indistinct. -Distances are misstated, or cease to be stated at all. -The names of countries are massed together in such a -way as to show that the Poet had no idea of a particular -mode of juxtaposition for them. Topographical or local -features, of a character such as to identify a descrip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>tion -with some particular place or region as its prototype -in nature, are erroneously transposed to some -situation which, from general indications, we can see -must be upon a different and perhaps distant part of -the surface of the globe. Again, by ceasing to define -distances and directions, he shows from time to time -that he has lost confidence in his own collocation, that -he is not willing to challenge a comparison with actual -nature, and that, from want of accurate knowledge, he -feels he must seek some degree of shelter in generalities.</p> - -<p>It is obvious that, under the circumstances as they -have thus far been delineated, the geography of the -poems, with a centre fixed for it somewhere in Greece, -say at Olympus or Mycenæ, might be first of all -divided into three zones, ranging around that centre. -The first and innermost would be that of the familiar -knowledge and experience of his countrymen. The -second would be that of their rare and occasional -resort. The third would be a region wholly unknown -to them, and with respect to which they were wholly -dependent on foreign, that is on Phœnician, report; -much as a Roman, five hundred years ago, would -practically depend upon the reports of Venetians and -Genoese mariners for all or nearly all his ultra-marine -knowledge.</p> - -<p>Now, though we may not be able to mark positively -at every point of the compass the particular spot at -which we step from the first zone to the second, and -from the second to the third, yet there is enough of -the second zone discernible to make it serve for an -effectual delimitation between the first and the third; -between the region of experience and that of marvel; -of foreign, arbitrary, unchecked, and semifabulous report. -Just as we are unable to fix the moment at which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -night passes into dawn, and dawn into day; but yet -the dawn of morning, and the twilight of evening are -themselves the lines which broadly separate between -the day and the night, lying respectively at the extremities -of each. So with the poems of Homer, it -may be a question whether a given place, say Phœnicia, -is in the first or the second zone; or whether -some other, such as Scheria, or as the Bosphorus, is in -the second or the third; but it will never be difficult -to affirm of any important place named in the poems -<i>either</i> that it is not in the zone of common experience, -or else that it is not in the zone of foreign fable.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Limits of the Inner Geography.</i></div> - -<p>Let me now endeavour to draw the lines, which -thus far have been laid down only in principle.</p> - -<p>1. And first it seems plain, that the experimental -knowledge of Homer extended over the whole of the -continental territory embraced within the Greek Catalogue, -including, along with the continent, those islands -which he has classed with his mainland, and not in his -separate insular group<a name="FNanchor_526_526" id="FNanchor_526_526"></a><a href="#Footnote_526_526" class="fnanchor">[526]</a>.</p> - -<p>2. It may be slightly doubtful whether he had a -similar knowledge of the islands forming the base of the -Ægean. There is a peculiarity in the Cretan description -(Il. ii. 645-52), namely, that after enumerating certain -cities he closes with general words (649),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἄλλοι θ’, οἳ Κρήτην ἑκατόμπολιν ἀμφενέμοντο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Still he uses characteristic epithets: and in another -place (Od. xiv. 257), he defines (of course by time) the -distance from Crete to Egypt. So again in Rhodes -(656), Camirus has the characteristic epithet of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργινόεις</span>. -On the whole we may place this division within -the first zone of Homeric geography.</p> - -<p>3. Homer would appear to have had an accurate -knowledge of the positions of the islands of Lemnos,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -Samothrace, Imbros, Lesbos, Samos, and Chios<a name="FNanchor_527_527" id="FNanchor_527_527"></a><a href="#Footnote_527_527" class="fnanchor">[527]</a>. These -we may consider, without further detail, as answering -practically for the whole Ægean sea.</p> - -<p>4. Homer knew the positions of Emathia and Pieria, -relatively to one another and to Greece; and the -general course of the southern ranges of the Thracian -mountains<a name="FNanchor_528_528" id="FNanchor_528_528"></a><a href="#Footnote_528_528" class="fnanchor">[528]</a>. The Trojan Catalogue appears to show -that he also knew the coast-line westward from the -Dardanelles, as far as to the river Axius. There we -may consider that his Pieria begins, with Greece upon -its southern and western border.</p> - -<p>5. It would appear that Homer had a pretty full knowledge -of the southern coast-line of the Propontis. He -seems to place the Thracians of the Trojan Catalogue -on the northern side of that sea, but his language is -quite general with respect to this part of it. On the -south side, however, and in the whole north-western -corner of Asia Minor, we appear to find him at home<a name="FNanchor_529_529" id="FNanchor_529_529"></a><a href="#Footnote_529_529" class="fnanchor">[529]</a>. -Thus much we may safely conclude from the detail of -the Trojan Catalogue; from the particular account of -the Idæan rivers in the Twelfth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_530_530" id="FNanchor_530_530"></a><a href="#Footnote_530_530" class="fnanchor">[530]</a>; from the latter -part of the journey of Juno in the Fourteenth<a name="FNanchor_531_531" id="FNanchor_531_531"></a><a href="#Footnote_531_531" class="fnanchor">[531]</a>; and -from the speech of Achilles in the Twenty-fourth<a name="FNanchor_532_532" id="FNanchor_532_532"></a><a href="#Footnote_532_532" class="fnanchor">[532]</a>, -which fixes the position of Phrygia relatively to Troy.</p> - -<p>6. From the point of Lectum to the southward, Homer -shows a knowledge of the coast-line as far as Lycia -in the south-western quarter of Asia Minor. But here -we must close his inner sphere. The Solyman mountains -supply the only local notice in the poems which can be -said to belong to the interior country, and of these his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -conceptions are evidently as far as possible from geographical. -In the Sixth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_533_533" id="FNanchor_533_533"></a><a href="#Footnote_533_533" class="fnanchor">[533]</a> he appears to conceive -of the Solyman people as bordering upon Lycia. Although -the name has suggested to some a connection -with Jerusalem, we ought to consider it as representing -that for which it stands in geography, a part of the grand -inland mass of Asiatic mountains. But from the proximity -of the Solymi to Lycia, Homer would appear to -have moved them greatly westward. Again, when -Neptune in the Fifth Odyssey sees Ulysses from the -Solyman mountains on his way from Ogygia, we must -suppose that Homer conceived them to command -some point of a neighbouring and continuous line of -sea, which would allow of such a prospect. He would -hardly have made Neptune see Ulysses from Lycia, or -from a point across the mountains of Thrace, or from -one on the other side of the actual Mount Taurus.</p> - -<p>We have now, I think, made the circuit of the -whole zone, and it is a small one, of the real or experimental -geography of Homer.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The intermediate or doubtful Zone.</i></div> - -<p>Let us take next the intermediate zone, which marks -the extreme and infrequent points of Greek resort.</p> - -<p>Beginning in the west and north-west, we have -found Sicania (now Upper Calabria), Epirus, and the -country of the Thesprotians<a name="FNanchor_534_534" id="FNanchor_534_534"></a><a href="#Footnote_534_534" class="fnanchor">[534]</a>, marking the points of -this intermediate region. To the northward, we may -fix it at Emathia. In the north-east, it seems to be -bounded by the northern shore of the Sea of Marmora. -The Thracians of Homer inhabit a country which he -calls <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐριβώλαξ</span>, Il. xx. 485, and which the Hellespont -enclosed (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργει</span>), that is to say, washes on two sides at -least. The Hellespont, as in this place it is termed -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγάῤῥοος</span>, signifies to the Eastern part of its waters in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -particular; and the name probably includes the Propontis -(which he might well suppose to have a strong -current throughout, like the Straits of Gallipoli), together -with the northern Ægean between Chalcidice -and the Thracian Chersonese. He has described these -Thracians in very vague terms<a name="FNanchor_535_535" id="FNanchor_535_535"></a><a href="#Footnote_535_535" class="fnanchor">[535]</a>, and without any local -circumstance, in the Catalogue: but the form of the -coast-line apparently implied in the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργει</span>, and -the epithet of fertility, appear to indicate the plain of -Adrianople and the Maritz. But this inclosure on two -sides terminates when the northern shore begins to -trend directly to the eastward: and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, or -Bosphorus, which no man but Jason ever succeeded in -passing, are to be considered as in the zone of a semifabulous -or exterior chorography.</p> - -<p>When we pass into the south-east, we find that -Cyprus, Phœnicia, and Egypt may perhaps most properly -be placed in the doubtful zone. We have seen -that Cyprus was known as a stage on the passage to the -East, and as within the possible military reach of Agamemnon. -But its lord did not join in the war: and -Homer has no details about the island, beyond the -specification of Paphos as the seat of the residence, and -of the principal worship, of Venus.</p> - -<p>We have no instance of any visit paid by Greeks -to Phœnicia under ordinary circumstances. The tour -of Menelaus is, like that of Ulysses, outside the sphere -of ordinary life. He describes himself in it to Telemachus -as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολλὰ παθὼν καὶ πόλλ’ ἐπαληθεὶς</span><a name="FNanchor_536_536" id="FNanchor_536_536"></a><a href="#Footnote_536_536" class="fnanchor">[536]</a>, which may be -compared with Od. i. 4. respecting Ulysses. We hear -of the Taphians there; for it was at Sidon that they -kidnapped the nurse of Eumæus. Piracy in those -times probably reached somewhat further than trade.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -These same Taphians appear to be of doubtful Hellenism. -On the one hand, Mentes their leader was a -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξεῖνος</span> to Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_537_537" id="FNanchor_537_537"></a><a href="#Footnote_537_537" class="fnanchor">[537]</a>. But (1) we thus find them in Phœnicia<a name="FNanchor_538_538" id="FNanchor_538_538"></a><a href="#Footnote_538_538" class="fnanchor">[538]</a>, -which is not a place of usual Greek resort. -(2) They sail to Temese in foreign parts, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀλλοθρόους -ἀνθρώπους</span> (Od. i. 183), which we do not find elsewhere -said of Greeks. The case of the pseudo-Ulysses cannot -stand as a precedent for the rest of Greece, nor -even for the rest of Crete<a name="FNanchor_539_539" id="FNanchor_539_539"></a><a href="#Footnote_539_539" class="fnanchor">[539]</a>. (3) The father of Mentes -had given Ulysses poison for his arrows, which Ilus, the -Hellene, had from motives of religion refused him. -This at once supplies a particular reason for the xenial -bond between them, and suggests that this Taphian -prince may have been, though a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξεῖνος</span>, yet of a different -religion and race. (4) The absence of the Taphians -from the war, especially as a tribe so much given to -navigation, further strengthens the presumption that -they were not properly Greeks.</p> - -<p>Phœnicia, then, hangs doubtfully on the outer verge -of the Greek world, and belongs to the intermediate -zone. Yet more decidedly is this the case with Egypt. -For Ulysses means something unusual, when he describes -the voyage as one lasting for five days across -the open sea, even with the very best wind all the way, -from Crete; and it is elsewhere described as at a -distance formidably great. Such is the idea apparently -intended by the statement, that the very birds do but -make the journey once a year over so vast a sea<a name="FNanchor_540_540" id="FNanchor_540_540"></a><a href="#Footnote_540_540" class="fnanchor">[540]</a>. No -ordinary Greek ever goes to Egypt: and when the -pseudo-Ulysses planned his voyage thither, it was under -a sinister impulse from Jupiter, who meant him ill<a name="FNanchor_541_541" id="FNanchor_541_541"></a><a href="#Footnote_541_541" class="fnanchor">[541]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ δειλῷ κακὰ μήδετο μητίετα Ζεύς.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p> - -<p>Again, the Poet appears to have entirely misconceived -the distance of Pharos from the coast. He -places it at a day’s sail from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἴγυπτος</span>, meaning probably -by that name the Nile. Vain attempts have -been made to get rid by explanation of this geographical -error. Nitzsch<a name="FNanchor_542_542" id="FNanchor_542_542"></a><a href="#Footnote_542_542" class="fnanchor">[542]</a> says truly, that for the geography -of this passage Homer was dependent on the gossip of -sailors, and compares it with that of Ogygia, Scheria, -and the rest. When Menelaus went to Egypt, it was -involuntarily, as we are assured by Nestor<a name="FNanchor_543_543" id="FNanchor_543_543"></a><a href="#Footnote_543_543" class="fnanchor">[543]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">ἀτὰρ τὰς πέντε νέας κυανοπρῳρείους</div> - <div class="verse">Αἰγύπτῳ ἐπέλασσε φέρων ἄνεμός τε καὶ ὕδωρ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Beyond the circumscriptions which have thus been -drawn, lie the countries of the Outer Geography. Outwards -their limit in the mind of Homer was either the -great River Ocean, or else the land immediately bordering -upon it. Their inner line, that is, the line -nearest to the known Greek or Homeric world, may -be defined by a number of points specified in the -poems. We have, for example, the Lotophagi and -Libya in the south; the land of the Cyclops on the -west; (I pass by Sicily, because it can, I think, be -shown, that Homer transplanted it into another -quarter;) Scheria to the north-west, the Abii, Glactophagi, -and Hippemolgi, to the north. Then come -the Strait of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, or Bosphorus, pretty accurately -conceived as to its site; next towards the east, the -Amazons and the Solymi with their mountains; in the -south-east the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἐρεμβοὶ</span>, and then the widely spread -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰθίοπες</span>. All the places and people visited by Ulysses -after the Lotophagi, that have not been named, must -be conceived to lie yet further outwards.</p> - -<p>I have now explained the grounds on which I assume<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -the existence of two great zones, the one of a real, the -other of an imaginative, fluctuating, and semi-fabulous -Geography in Homer; and of a third zone, drawn as a -somewhat indeterminate border-ground between them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Sphere of the Outer Geography.</i></div> - -<p>I come now to consider what are the keys or leading -ideas of local arrangement which we can first obtain -from the particulars of the Outer Geography of Homer, -and which we may then apply to the solution of such -questions of detail as it presents.</p> - -<p>It is plain that we have real need of some such keys. -To ascertain the general direction of the movements -of the Wanderings of Ulysses, and the general idea -entertained by the Poet of the distribution of land and -sea, is an essential preliminary to the solution of such -questions as, Where were the Sirens? or, Where were -the Læstrygones? According to the statement I have -recently given, many of the points, that Ulysses in the -Wanderings visited by sea, would appear to have been so -fixed by Homer, as to imply his belief that the chieftain -sailed over what we know to be the European continent.</p> - -<p>The two propositions, which I have already ventured -to state as being the keys to the Outer Geography of -the Odyssey, are in the following terms<a name="FNanchor_544_544" id="FNanchor_544_544"></a><a href="#Footnote_544_544" class="fnanchor">[544]</a>:</p> - -<p>1. That Homer placed to the northward of Thrace, -Epirus, and the Italian peninsula, an expanse, not of -land, but of sea, communicating with the Euxine; or, -to express myself in other words, that he greatly extended -the Euxine westwards, perhaps also shortening -it towards the East; and that he made it communicate, -by the gulfs of Genoa and Venice, with the southern -Mediterranean.</p> - -<p>2. That he compounded into one two sets of Phœnician -traditions respecting the Ocean-mouth, and fixed -the site of it in the North-East.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> -<p>In the first place, I assume that it would be a waste -of time to enter upon an elaborate confutation of the traditional -identifications, which the pardonable ambition -of after-times has devised for the various points of the -wanderings. According to those expository figments, we -must believe that the land of the Cyclops is an island, -that it is the same island which reappears at a later -date as Thrinacie, that Æolia is Stromboli in sight of -that island of the Cyclops, (though it took Ulysses nine -days of fair wind to sail from it to within sight of -Ithaca,) and that Ulysses could sail straight across the -sea from Æolia to Ithaca. We must look for the -Læstrygones and their perpetual day in the latitudes of -the Mediterranean. We must either place the ocean -northward, (but wholly without any prototype in nature,) -and the under-world on the west coast of Italy, where -there is no stream whatever, and seek, too, for fogs -and darkness in the choicest atmospheres of the world; -or else we must remove the Ocean-mouth to a distance -about four times as far from the island of Circe, as that -island is from Greece, whereas the poem evidently presumes -their comparative proximity. But in truth, it is -useless to go on accumulating single objections, for it is -not upon these that the confutation principally depends. -The confutation of these pardonable but idle traditions -rests on broader grounds. The grounds are such as really -these, that in no one particular do these Italian fables—for -such I must call them, notwithstanding the partial -countenance they receive from the chaotic and seemingly -adulterated parts of the Theogony of Hesiod<a name="FNanchor_545_545" id="FNanchor_545_545"></a><a href="#Footnote_545_545" class="fnanchor">[545]</a>—satisfy -the letter of the text of Homer; that in the attempt -to give it a geographical character, they misconceive -its spirit; and that they oblige us to override and -nullify not only the facts of actual geography, for that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -we might do without violating any law of reason and -likelihood under the conditions of the case, but also -the positive indications which Homer has given us from -phenomena that lay within his knowledge and experience. -In fact, they would oblige us to condemn -Homer as geographically unworthy of trust, within the -sphere of the every day life and resort of the Greeks, -as well as in regions, which he and his countrymen -never visited.</p> - -<p>And the result of all the violence thus done to -Homer would be, that we should have sacrificed at -once his language and his imagination, in the attempt -to struggle with contradictions to the actual geography -which defy every attempt at reconciliation.</p> - -<p>At the outset, according to my view, both admissions -must be made, and principles must be laid down, -as cardinal and essential to the conduct of the inquiry -we have now in hand.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Dislocation of actual nature.</i></div> - -<p>It must, I think, be admitted,</p> - -<p>1. That Homer has dislocated or transplanted the -traditions he had received. For example, he has either -carried the Bosphorus westwards<a name="FNanchor_546_546" id="FNanchor_546_546"></a><a href="#Footnote_546_546" class="fnanchor">[546]</a>, or else the Straits of -Messina eastwards.</p> - -<p>2. That therefore as we are on this occasion inquiring -not into the geographical information Homer can give -us, but into the errors he had embraced, we must not -be surprised if we fail to arrive at any conclusions, either -wholly self-consistent or demonstratively clear. We -must exact from his text, with something less than geographical -rigour, even the conditions of inward harmony.</p> - -<p>It may then reasonably be asked, if this be so, how -are we to find any clue to his meaning.</p> - -<p>My answer is, by laying down rules which will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -enable us to discriminate between his primary and his -secondary statements; between the results of his knowledge, -and the fruits of his fancy.</p> - -<p>By his knowledge I mean, what he had seen, what -he had travelled over, what was familiarly and habitually -known to his countrymen, so as to give him ample -opportunities of refreshing recollection, of enlarging -knowledge, and of correcting error.</p> - -<p>By the fruits of his fancy I mean, the forms he has -thought fit to give to statements of geography lying -outside the world of his own experience, and that of -the Greeks in general. These statements, gathered -here and there as time and opportunity might serve, he -could hardly have moulded into a correct and consistent -scheme. Emancipating himself wholly from -obligations which it was impossible for him to fulfil, he -has treated them simply as the creatures of his poetic -purpose, and has analysed, shifted, and recombined them -into a world of his own, in the creation and adjustment -of which, the principal factor has of necessity been his -own will.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Postulates for the inquiry.</i></div> - -<p>I therefore lay down the following postulates:</p> - -<p>1. That, Homer having an Inner or known and an -Outer or imagined world, between which a line may be -drawn with tolerable certainty, the voyage of Ulysses, -from the Lotophagi to Scheria inclusive, lies in the -Outer world.</p> - -<p>2. That we may not only implicitly accept the geographical -statements of Homer, when they lie within -his own horizon or the Inner world, but may fearlessly -argue from them.</p> - -<p>3. That arguments so drawn are available and paramount, -as far as they go, for governing the construction -of passages relating to the geography of the Outer world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> - -<p>4. That we have no title to argue, when we find a -point in the Outer world described in such a manner as -to correspond with some spot now known, that Homer -gave to that tract or region in his own mind, the site -which we may now know it to occupy, but that he is -quite as likely to have placed it elsewhere.</p> - -<p>5. That arguments grounded on the physical knowledge -of the Poet are to be trusted. I would name -by way of example, (subject only to a certain latitude -for inexactness,) such arguments as are drawn from the -directions of winds, and from other patent and cardinal -facts of common experience, for example, the distances -which may be traversed within given times.</p> - -<p>6. So likewise are the indications, which harmonize -with known or reasonably presumed historical and -ethnological views, to be trusted as good evidence on -questions relating to his geographical meaning.</p> - -<p>In order, however, to be in a condition to make use -of indications supplied by the Winds, we must consider -what the Winds of Homer are.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Winds of Homer.</i></div> - -<p>The Winds of Homer are only four in number, and -the manner of their physical arrangement is rude. It -by no means corresponds with our own, but varies -from it greatly, just as his points of the compass varied -from ours. And though he names only four winds, -yet I apprehend we must consider that upon the -whole he uses them with such latitude, as to express -under the name of some one of them every gale that -blew.</p> - -<p>As to some of these winds, Homer has provided us -with an abundance of trustworthy <i>data</i> for their point -of origin: and through them the evidence as to the -rest may be enlarged.</p> - -<p>Homer’s governing points, from which to measure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -arcs of the horizon were, as is evident, the sunrise and -the sunset. This is clearly shown by his expressions, -such as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρὸς ἠῶ τ’ ἠέλιόν τε</span>, for the east, and then in -opposition to this, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποτὶ ζόφον ἠερόεντα</span><a name="FNanchor_547_547" id="FNanchor_547_547"></a><a href="#Footnote_547_547" class="fnanchor">[547]</a> for the west. -Again, when Ulysses urges upon his companions that -he has lost all means of forming a judgment of their -position, his mode of expression is this, that he does -not know where is dusk or where is dawn; where the -joy-giving sun rises, or where he sinks<a name="FNanchor_548_548" id="FNanchor_548_548"></a><a href="#Footnote_548_548" class="fnanchor">[548]</a>. We must -therefore dismiss from our minds the four cardinal -points to which we are accustomed. They were not -cardinal points for Homer. We must also remember -not only (1) that Homer had only two<a name="FNanchor_549_549" id="FNanchor_549_549"></a><a href="#Footnote_549_549" class="fnanchor">[549]</a>, but also -(2) that his two did not correspond with any of our -four, and (3) that from the variation of sunrise and sunset -with the seasons of the year a certain amount of vagueness -was of necessity introduced into his conceptions -of the point of origin for each of the different winds.</p> - -<p>We should not, however, exaggerate this vagueness. -It had its cause in the variations of the ecliptic, and, -like its cause, it was limited. I suppose, however, that -the eye guesses rudely at the deviations of the ecliptic, -and that we must take N.W. and S.E. for the two cardinal -points of Homer.</p> - -<p>Homer’s west then ranged to the north of west, and -Homer’s east to the south of east. But although this -must be borne in mind when we translate his winds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -into our language, yet of course the winds themselves -were arranged, not technically so as each to cover a -certain arc on the horizon, but with reference to the -directions in which they were found by experience commonly -to blow. And in associating each wind with a -particular point of the horizon, we must bear in mind -that such a point is to be regarded as its centre, and -that the same name would be given to a wind within a -number of points on either side of it.</p> - -<p>As to the respective prevalence of the different -winds, the criterion is certainly a rude one, still it is -a criterion, which is provided for us by the comparative -frequency of the occasions on which they are -mentioned. Eurus is mentioned in the poems seven -times, Notus fifteen; Boreas twenty-seven, subject to a -small deduction for cases where he is simply a person; -and Zephyr twenty-six. The latter pair are the leading -Winds of the poem: not necessarily that they indicated -the prevailing currents of air, but that they represented -such currents of air as usually prevailed with -force sufficient to make them good poetical agents.</p> - -<p>We may also learn, from the epithets given to the -winds, the impressions which they respectively made -upon the mind of Homer.</p> - -<p>Eurus never has a character attached to it. Notus -seldom has any epithet; but still it is mentioned, by the -comrade of Ulysses in Od. xii. 289, as one of the most -formidable winds. This may probably have been on -account of its direction relatively to the place of the -speaker; because from that point it blew right upon -Scylla<a name="FNanchor_550_550" id="FNanchor_550_550"></a><a href="#Footnote_550_550" class="fnanchor">[550]</a>. Again, as Zephyr and Notus are nowhere -else associated by the Poet, the presumption arises on -that ground also that here Notus is put in for a special<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -and local reason. It is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργέστης</span>, and is so essentially -allied with the idea of moisture, that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νότιος</span> stands -simply for wet (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νότιος ἱδρὼς</span>, Il. xi. 810).</p> - -<p>The characteristic epithets of Boreas are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέγας</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀπώρινος</span>, -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθρηγένης</span>. The first of these indicates that -he blew hard: and we know the same thing from the -facts, that Achilles desired him to contribute towards -rapidly consuming the pyre of Patroclus, and that he is -often used for a storm<a name="FNanchor_551_551" id="FNanchor_551_551"></a><a href="#Footnote_551_551" class="fnanchor">[551]</a>.</p> - -<p>But, of all the winds, the Zephyr evidently was the -most prominent in the view of Homer. It is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέγας</span> -(Od. xiv. 458), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λαβρὸς ἐπαιγίζων</span> (Il. ii. 148), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κελαδεινὸς</span> -(Il. xxiii. 208), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δυσαὴς</span> (Il. xxiii. 200, and Od. xii. 289), -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κεκληγὼς</span> (Od. xii. 408); and it alone of the winds roars, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ζεφύροιο ἰώη</span> (Il. iv. 276). In Od. xii. 289, it is mentioned -with Notus: they are the winds most apt to -destroy ships even despite or without the gods. For -Notus, as I have said, this character seems to be local: -but the Zephyr is here called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δυσαὴς</span>, and the sense of -the passage is in accordance with his general reputation. -He, with Boreas, is invoked for the pyre of -Patroclus: and these two are the only winds which -are ever employed singly to make foul weather. Homer’s -other modes of creating a tempest by the agency -of the winds are (1) to make a combination of all or -several of them, (2) to cover the matter in a generality -by speaking of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀλοοὶ ἄνεμοι</span> without distinction.</p> - -<p>There is, however, in Homer a faint trace of the milder -character, which was afterwards more fully recognised -in Zephyr, when he had moved down from the north, -and become a simple west wind. In the description of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -the Elysian plain, we find that it is never vexed with -tempest or with rain, but that the happy spirits dwelling -there are incessantly refreshed with the Zephyrs which -spring from Ocean<a name="FNanchor_552_552" id="FNanchor_552_552"></a><a href="#Footnote_552_552" class="fnanchor">[552]</a>. But even here the breezes are -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λιγυπνείοντες</span>: and this word means what is called blowing -<i>fresh</i>. And the conception of the wind here is -rather as a sea-wind, and therefore not a cold one, than -as being soft and gentle.</p> - -<p>Of these four Winds, Homer has made, on various -occasions, two couples. He repeatedly associates Boreas -and Zephyr in the same work<a name="FNanchor_553_553" id="FNanchor_553_553"></a><a href="#Footnote_553_553" class="fnanchor">[553]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὡς δ’ ἄνεμοι δύο πόντον ὀρίνετον ἰχθυόεντα,</div> - <div class="verse">Βορέης καὶ Ζέφυρος, τώτε Θρῄκηθεν ἄητον.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And again, for the purposes of Achilles, the two -come together over the sea, and quickly fall to, that -the pyre may be consumed; even as the prayer of the -hero had been addressed to them in common<a name="FNanchor_554_554" id="FNanchor_554_554"></a><a href="#Footnote_554_554" class="fnanchor">[554]</a>.</p> - -<p>In the same way, Eurus and Notus are associated -together as exciting the Icarian Sea. This passage is -curiously illustrative of Homer’s distinctions between -the winds. He has two successive similes, both describing -the agitation of the same Assembly<a name="FNanchor_555_555" id="FNanchor_555_555"></a><a href="#Footnote_555_555" class="fnanchor">[555]</a>. In the -first it is compared to the Icarian Sea lashed by Eurus, -and by Notus charging from the clouds. In the second, -to a corn-field, on which Zephyr powerfully -sweeps down<a name="FNanchor_556_556" id="FNanchor_556_556"></a><a href="#Footnote_556_556" class="fnanchor">[556]</a>.</p> - -<p>From a just consideration of these passages, it becomes -clear that the four winds of Homer were not at -equidistant points of the compass, but that each two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -of them were capable of association, while neither -member of one pair is ever described, except in a -single passage, which I will presently notice, as cooperating -with one of the other. Of course I do not -refer to those cases, where the Poet raises all the four -winds at once, simply to create a hurricane; no bad -conjecture, I will add, for those times, in anticipation -of the modern discovery that hurricanes are eddies, and -that it is their circular motion which makes them seem -to blow almost simultaneously in all directions<a name="FNanchor_557_557" id="FNanchor_557_557"></a><a href="#Footnote_557_557" class="fnanchor">[557]</a>.</p> - -<p>Let us now inquire what can be done towards ascertaining -more particularly the leading points of these -winds, of which we have surveyed the general descriptions.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Points of origin for Zephyr and Boreas.</i></div> - -<p>I begin with the more prevailing pair, Zephyr and -Boreas.</p> - -<p>There can, I think, be no hesitation in deriving -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ζέφυρος</span> from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ζόφος</span>. It may be well to remind the -reader that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ζόφος</span> is the same word in substance with -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κνέφας</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νέφος</span><a name="FNanchor_558_558" id="FNanchor_558_558"></a><a href="#Footnote_558_558" class="fnanchor">[558]</a>.</p> - -<p>Thus the north-west is his cradle. But he is so -closely associated with Thrace and with Boreas, the -former being his residence, and the latter<a name="FNanchor_559_559" id="FNanchor_559_559"></a><a href="#Footnote_559_559" class="fnanchor">[559]</a> his companion, -that though he may mean any wind from west -up to north, we must consider him as usually leaning -from the north-west towards the north, while he properly -belongs to the north-west rather than any other -given point of the compass.</p> - -<p>The position of Boreas is the best defined of all the -winds of Homer. He cannot come from any point to -the west of due north: for all that space is appro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>priated -to Zephyr. He is equally well defined on the -other side. For he blows from Thrace, both generally, -as in Il. ix. 5, and particularly on the Plain of Troy<a name="FNanchor_560_560" id="FNanchor_560_560"></a><a href="#Footnote_560_560" class="fnanchor">[560]</a>. -I hold to be of no authority, as fixing the direction of -this wind, the Boreas which carries the pseudo-Ulysses -from Crete to Egypt<a name="FNanchor_561_561" id="FNanchor_561_561"></a><a href="#Footnote_561_561" class="fnanchor">[561]</a>: for there Homer is already -beyond the Inner World, and he only knows the position -of Egypt from Phœnician report. But we have -other trustworthy indications from within the sphere -of Greek nautical knowledge, in his carrying Hercules -from Ilium to Cos<a name="FNanchor_562_562" id="FNanchor_562_562"></a><a href="#Footnote_562_562" class="fnanchor">[562]</a>, in his preventing a voyage from -Crete to Ilium<a name="FNanchor_563_563" id="FNanchor_563_563"></a><a href="#Footnote_563_563" class="fnanchor">[563]</a>, and in the fate of Ulysses, who, in -rounding Malea, is carried off by Boreas to the westward -of Cythera<a name="FNanchor_564_564" id="FNanchor_564_564"></a><a href="#Footnote_564_564" class="fnanchor">[564]</a>. All these operations can be performed -only by a wind blowing from the quarter between -east and north-east.</p> - -<p>Putting together these indications, I think we must -conclude that the Boreas of Homer is a wind to the east -of north. But it seems plain that he does not embrace -nearly the whole quadrant from north to east. For, -like and even more than Zephyr on the other side of -the pole, he has a leaning towards the polar side, and, -in the absence of more particular marks, Homer should -be taken to mean by him a N.N.E. wind, that is, a -wind ranging principally or wholly from N. to N.E.</p> - -<p>I take the line Il. ix. 5, which many have treated as -a difficulty, for a sound and valuable geographical indication. -Boreas and Zephyr blow from Thrace. To a -Greek, say at Mycenæ, Thrace, which reaches from the -Adriatic to the Euxine, covers more than ninety degrees -of the horizon. It is from within those ninety -degrees that every Boreas, and probably every Zephyr,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -of Homer can be shown to blow. These are facts -which we may hold in deposit, ready for service in the -explanation of the movements of the Outer Geography.</p> - -<p>And along with them we must keep in mind the -Homeric affinity and sympathy established between -Boreas and Zephyr. It is so considerable, and they -are especially in such local proximity, that practically -we should not go far wrong were we to say Homer -divides the whole circumference of his horizon into -three nearly equal arcs of 120 degrees, more or less. The -first of these, beginning from due west, is given to -Zephyr and to Boreas. The next, reaching to within -30° of the South Pole, to Eurus: and the third, embracing -the residue of the circle, to Notus.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Points of the Compass for Notus and Eurus.</i></div> - -<p>Notus is the great southern wind, Eurus being comparatively -of little account. Now, one of the chief -<i>data</i> applicable to determining the direction of these -winds is the passage Il. ii. 144-6. Here they are -described as disturbing the Icarian Sea, which was -within the sphere of Greek navigation. Now the position -of that sea, on the coast of Asia Minor to the -south of Samos, shows,</p> - -<p>1. That both these winds in Homer have a decidedly -southern character.</p> - -<p>2. That one, of course Eurus, must come from the -east, and the other, Notus, in that place, from the west -of south. Because the conflict of the two winds presumes -a considerable space between the points from -which they blow, while the position of the Icarian Sea -requires both to be southern. But in the Fifth -Odyssey, too, Notus is treated as the proper antagonist -of Boreas. His centre therefore lies a little to -the westward of due south; but Eurus does not approach -the South Pole, and every wind from about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -S.S.E. to W. will probably fall within the Homeric -description of Notus.</p> - -<p>The associations of Notus and Eurus are frequent<a name="FNanchor_565_565" id="FNanchor_565_565"></a><a href="#Footnote_565_565" class="fnanchor">[565]</a>. On -one occasion, however, Notus is combined with Zephyr, -though there is no corresponding case of junction between -Eurus and Boreas. Notus and Zephyr are sent -from the sea by Juno to blast the Trojan army with -heat. Boreas would of course be a cold wind: and -Eurus would be cold on the plain of Troy, from passing -over the chain of Ida: though in Greece he melts the -snow that Zephyr has brought. Differences of season, -as well as of situation, may have to do with these -varieties of operation.</p> - -<p>Though less strong than Zephyr and Boreas, Notus -is a stronger wind than Eurus. And though generally -the counterpart of Boreas, his power of cooperating with -Zephyr shows that he must reach over the quadrant -from the South pole to West, whereas we have no -Boreas coming down from the North pole as far as -East.</p> - -<p>As the opposite of Zephyr, Eurus blows principally -from the south-eastern quarter; and hence is in frequent -cooperation with Notus, but never with any -other wind. He must, however, be understood to -cover the whole space from the rigidly northern Boreas -down to Notus, or from about N.E. to within 30° of -the South pole. Boreas is inflexibly confined by all -the evidence of the poems to a very narrow space: -and Eurus, his neighbour eastward, does not much -frequent those points of the compass that lie nearest -to him.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> -<img src="images/zill_t274.png" width="550" height="444" alt="winds and directions" /> -</div> - -<p>The accompanying sketch expresses what I believe to -be in the main Homer’s arrangement of the Winds. At -the same time, I do not know that we have any practical -example of any wind in Homer which blows from -within forty-five degrees on either side of due East, or -from within about the same number of degrees on -either side of due West. Perhaps it was from their -local infrequency, that he does not appear to have put -such winds in requisition<a name="FNanchor_566_566" id="FNanchor_566_566"></a><a href="#Footnote_566_566" class="fnanchor">[566]</a>.</p> - -<p>The name Eurus is further attached to the point of -sunrise by the root <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔως</span>, to which it is traced<a name="FNanchor_567_567" id="FNanchor_567_567"></a><a href="#Footnote_567_567" class="fnanchor">[567]</a>. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -tracts of Aides are with Homer <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σμερδάλεα εὐρώεντα</span> (Il. -xx. 65). May not this <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρωεὶς</span> come from the same -source? The Cimmerian darkness of Homer is close -to the mouth of Ocean, and <i>near</i> that chamber of the -Sun, which is at Ææa<a name="FNanchor_568_568" id="FNanchor_568_568"></a><a href="#Footnote_568_568" class="fnanchor">[568]</a>. Viewing dawn as the middle -point between night and day, Homer possibly connected -it with each. It seems further possible, that -he connected the Eastern with the Western darkness: -both because this would bring his two regions of the -future world into relations with each other, and because -he makes the Sun disport himself with his -oxen on the same spot in Thrinacie after his setting in -the evening, and before his rising in the morning: a -passage, which for its full explanation might require -the supposition, that Homer believed the earth to be -cylindrical in form, and thus the extremes of East and -West to meet<a name="FNanchor_569_569" id="FNanchor_569_569"></a><a href="#Footnote_569_569" class="fnanchor">[569]</a>. There will shortly be occasion to revert -to this subject, in further considering what were -the constituent parts of Homer’s East.</p> - -<p><i>Homeric distances and rates of speed.</i></p> - -<p>I shall trust mainly then to winds, thus ascertained -from Homer’s Inner world, as the means of indicating -the directions of the movements described in his Outer -one. But besides directions, we have distances to consider. -And here too we have some evidence, supplied -by his experimental knowledge, to guide us.</p> - -<p>By combining the inner-world <i>data</i> of distance with -those of direction, we shall obtain the essential conditions -of decision for the outer-world problems. Conditions -both essential and sufficient, when we can lay -hold upon them; but we shall still have to contend -with this difficulty, that in one or two remarkable cases -the Poet takes refuge in language wholly vague, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -leaves us no guide for our conjectures, except the rule -of making the unascertained conform in spirit to what -has been made reasonably certain.</p> - -<p>The distances of which I now speak are sea-distances. -It is a somewhat remarkable fact, that Homer scarcely -gives us land-distances at all. Telemachus and Pisistratus -drive in two days from Pylus to Sparta: but -it is not the wont of the Poet to describe places, which -communicate over land, by the number of days occupied -in travelling between them. This circumstance is illustrative -of a trait, which assumes great importance in -Homer’s Outer Geography, namely, the miniature scale -of his conceptions as to all land-spaces; a trait, I may -add, to which we shall have occasion to revert.</p> - -<p>The sea-distances of Homer are performed in no less -than six different modes.</p> - -<p> -1. By ordinary sailing.<br /> -2. By ordinary rowing.<br /> -3. By rafts, Od. v. 251.<br /> -4. By drifting on a timber, Od. xiv. 310-15.<br /> -5. By floating and swimming, Od. v. 374, 5, 388, 399.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Sixthly, and lastly, the ships of the Phæacians perform -their voyages by an inward instinct, and with a -rapidity described as marvellous.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Evidence as to rates of motion.</i></div> - -<p>The language of the poems nowhere takes cognizance -of any difference in speed as between sailing and -rowing. For example, when Achilles speaks of the -time of his voyage to Phthia as dependent upon -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐπλοίη</span>, which the favour of Neptune could give, he -evidently means a good sea and the absence of tempest, -and does not at all bargain for a wind from a particular -quarter, which was not a matter lying within Neptune’s -especial province. Nor does there seem to be, on -general grounds, any cause for assuming a difference<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -between the average speeds of rowing and of sailing, -when we consider, in favour of the first, that the crew -rowed almost to a man, with little cargo to carry; -and, to the prejudice of the second, that the science and -art of building quick sailers could not then have been -understood. I therefore take rowing and sailing as -equal in celerity. So that we have in reality no more -than five different cases to consider.</p> - -<p>But, again, I think there is no reason why we should -assume a difference in speed between drifting on a -piece of timber, and making way by floating and swimming -only. In practicability there may be a considerable -difference: but that is not the point before us.</p> - -<p>The four methods now remaining seem to require the -assumption of different speeds respectively.</p> - -<p>Now Homer has supplied us with the times necessary -for performing known distances in two cases; and has -also given us a third case, which may be used for -checking one of the other instances.</p> - -<p>A case of known distance is that from the mouth of -the Straits of Gallipoli to Phthia. This, according -to Achilles in the Ninth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_570_570" id="FNanchor_570_570"></a><a href="#Footnote_570_570" class="fnanchor">[570]</a>, would, with favourable -weather, be performed so as to arrive on the third day. -It may amount to a little more than three degrees, -and may be taken at two hundred and twenty miles. -The time is three days and two nights. So that, for -ordinary sailing or rowing, a day and a night may be -taken at about ninety miles, of course without any -pretension to minute accuracy.</p> - -<p>Secondly. With a good passage, a ship sailing from -Crete to Egypt arrives on the fifth day (Od. xiv. 257). -But we cannot consider Homer’s opinion of the distance -between Crete and Egypt as entitled to the full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -weight of his experimental knowledge. Again, it is to be -borne in mind, that here the north wind, which carries -the ship, was a prime one (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀκραὴς καλὸς</span>, 253). Lastly, -much might depend on the part of Crete, from which -we suppose the vessel to have sailed.</p> - -<p>As respects the last-named question, we must, from -the habits of ancient navigation, suppose the eastern -extremity of the island to have been the point of departure; -because no sailor would have committed -himself to Boreas on the open sea, as long as he could -make way under cover of a shore lying to windward.</p> - -<p>The distance between the eastern point of Crete -and the western mouth of the Nile is about three -hundred and fifty miles; the time five days and four -nights. This would give a somewhat less rate of -progress <i>per diem</i> than the last case; but then it is -likely that Homer took the distance to be greater -in that almost unknown sea (see Od. iii. 320.) than -it really is; so that we have cause to view the two -computations as in substance accordant. And even if -they had clashed, the former would still be entitled to -our acceptance.</p> - -<p>What, however, does appear to be the case is, that -Homer mistook the course from Crete to Egypt. It is -really S. W.: he has defined it by the wind Boreas, which -never blows from a point westward, or at the very uttermost -never from one materially westward, of N. So -that the course must have been about S. Now, as -Homer knew the position of Crete, this would show -that he brought Egypt too much to the westward, -by shortening the eastern recess or arm of the Mediterranean; -an error in exact conformity, I conceive, -with all his operations in imagining the geography of -the east. But this by the way.</p> - -<p>The third test of sea-distances is supplied by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -pretended passage of Ulysses, on a mast, from a point -just out of sight of Crete<a name="FNanchor_571_571" id="FNanchor_571_571"></a><a href="#Footnote_571_571" class="fnanchor">[571]</a> to Thesprotia<a name="FNanchor_572_572" id="FNanchor_572_572"></a><a href="#Footnote_572_572" class="fnanchor">[572]</a>. He arrives -on the tenth night. The distance exceeds, by about -one half, the voyage from Troas to Phthia. The time -is nearly four times as long. But then some allowance -may be made for delay on the score of the irregular -winds (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀλοοὶ ἄνεμοι</span>) which prevailed. We may therefore -justly calculate the rate of a floating or drift-passage -at about one half that of a sailing passage, or -two miles an hour instead of four. And here our direct -evidence closes.</p> - -<p>At an intermediate point between these, we may -place the mode of passage by raft, which brought -Ulysses from Ogygia. For merchant ships were built -broad in the beam; and the raft was as broad as a merchant -ship<a name="FNanchor_573_573" id="FNanchor_573_573"></a><a href="#Footnote_573_573" class="fnanchor">[573]</a>. Thus constructed, and with its flat bottom, -it must have been very greatly slower than an -ordinary sailing vessel, and I venture to put it by conjecture -as low as two and a half miles an hour.</p> - -<p>Lastly, we have to consider the rates of the Scherian -ships. About these the only thing that is clear is, that -Homer meant to represent them as far exceeding all -known speed of the kind. They went, says Alcinous, -to Eubœa, or as the verse may be rendered, to Eubœa -and back, in a day<a name="FNanchor_574_574" id="FNanchor_574_574"></a><a href="#Footnote_574_574" class="fnanchor">[574]</a>: they are like a chariot with four -horses scouring the plain; the hawk, swiftest of birds, -could not keep up with them<a name="FNanchor_575_575" id="FNanchor_575_575"></a><a href="#Footnote_575_575" class="fnanchor">[575]</a>. We cannot, I think, -pretend to appreciate with great precision Homer’s -meaning in this point; but it is plain that, as he had -a map of some kind in his head, he must have had some -meaning with respect to the distance performed by the -ship from Scheria, though probably a vague one. I -think we may venture to take it at three times the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -speed of the ordinary sailing vessel, or at about twelve -miles an hour.</p> - -<p>Thus, taking drift-speed for our unit, we have the -following scale approximately established:</p> - -<p>1. Drift = 2 miles per hour = 48 miles per day of -24 hours.</p> - -<p>2. Raft = 1¼ drift = 2½ miles per hour = 60 miles -per day of 24 hours.</p> - -<p>3. Sailing or rowing ship = 2 drift = 4 miles per -hour = 96 miles per day of 24 hours.</p> - -<p>4. Hawk-ship of Scheria = 3 sailing ship = 6 drift = -12 miles per hour = 288 miles per day of 24 hours.—</p> - -<p>Let us next proceed to consider, whether there are -any cardinal ideas of particular places or arrangements -in the Outer Geography of Homer, which govern its -general structure. For such ideas may, together with the -<i>data</i> that we have now drawn from the circle of his Inner -or Experimental Geography, assist us in the examination -of what undoubtedly at first sight appear to be -almost chaotic details.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Northward sea-route to the Euxine.</i></div> - -<p>Setting out from this point, my first business is to -show, that Homer believed in a sea-route from the -Mediterranean to the Euxine, other than that of the -Straits of Gallipoli and the Bosphorus. This route was -formed in his mind, as I shall endeavour to prove, by -cutting off the land from east to west, a little to the -north of the Peninsula of Greece, all the way from the -Adriatic to the Euxine. Thus we practically substitute an -expanse of sea for the mass of the European continent; -and we must not conceive of any definite boundary to this -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, other than the mysterious one which may finally -separate it from Ocean. Or, in other words, we must give -to the Black Sea an indefinite extension to the west and -north-west, perhaps also shortening it in the direction of -the East. This is the one master variation from nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -in Homer’s ideal geography<a name="FNanchor_576_576" id="FNanchor_576_576"></a><a href="#Footnote_576_576" class="fnanchor">[576]</a>; and, when his belief on -this subject has been sufficiently proved, almost every -thing else will fall into its place with comparative -ease.</p> - -<p>I will endeavour to illustrate and sustain this hypothesis -from the positive evidence, either direct or inferential, -of the poems: and I hope to show that it -stands upon grounds independent of the negative argument, -that it is absolutely necessary in order to supply -a key to the Wanderings. At the same time, I hold -that that negative argument, if made good, would suffice: -for, though we do no violence to probability in -imputing to the geography of the Odyssey any amount -of variance, however great, from actual nature, yet we -should sorely offend against reason, if we supposed that -Homer had constructed a route so elaborate and detailed, -without laying it out before his own mental -vision, and presenting it to that of his hearers, after -the fashion of something like a map. This was alike -demanded by the realism (so to speak) of the time, -and needful for the complete comprehension and easy -enjoyment of the romance.</p> - -<p>The indications on this subject, apart from the evidence -of the Wanderings themselves, are as follows:</p> - -<p>1. When, in the Thirteenth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_577_577" id="FNanchor_577_577"></a><a href="#Footnote_577_577" class="fnanchor">[577]</a>, Jupiter turns away -his eyes from the battle by the Ships, he turns them -towards the north-east: in the direction, that is, in -which, according to the hypothesis above stated, there -was for Homer not, as we now know to be the case, a -wide expanse of land capable of containing a countless -multitude of tribes, but, after a certain interval, a vast -and unexplored sea. Now the Poet tells us, not that Jupiter -looked over an indefinite mass of continent, or the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀπείρονα γαῖαν</span>; but that he looked over the country of -the Thracians, the Mysians, the Hippemolgi, the Glactophagi, -and the Abii. Moreover, he indicates, by -giving characteristic epithets to each of these nations, -that they lay more or less within the sphere of contact -with Greek intercourse and experience, and therefore -at no great distance to the northward: for not only are -the Thracians riders of horses, but the Mysians are -fighters hand to hand, the Hippemolgi are formidable -or venerable, and the Abii are the most righteous of -men. The Glactophagi are defined by their name as -feeders upon milk. This limited and characteristic enumeration -is in conformity, at the very least, with the -hypothesis, that Homer imagined in that direction no -continuous succession of land and of inhabitants, but a -sea circumscribing the country of Thrace to the north.</p> - -<p>2. A more marked indication is, I think, yielded by -the passage of the Odyssey, in which Alcinous says to -Ulysses, ‘We will convey you to your home, even -though it should be more distant than Eubœa, the -furthest point that has been visited by our people; of -whom some saw it, when they carried Rhadamanthus -thither, in the matter of Tityus, son of the Earth<a name="FNanchor_578_578" id="FNanchor_578_578"></a><a href="#Footnote_578_578" class="fnanchor">[578]</a>.’</p> - -<p>It appears to me evident, that Homer means in this -place to suppose a maritime route between Scheria and -Eubœa, to the North of Thrace. He is not, we must -remember, experimentally informed as to the position -of Scheria itself, and probably he conceived it to lie -quite outside the sphere of Greece, at a considerable -distance to the northward. Though he brings Ulysses -from thence to Ithaca in a day, this is effected by the -privileged and miraculous rapidity of passage, which was -the distinguishing gift of the Phæacians, as the kin of -the Immortals. They are indeed in contact, according<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -to the poem, with the habitable world, but they are -strictly upon the outer line of it. They are of the race -of Neptune: related to the Cyclops and the Giants: -their ordinary life and their maritime routes could not, -without doing utter violence to the conceptions of the -Poet, be brought within the sphere of ordinary Greek -experience. We cannot, therefore, be intended to suppose -them to have carried the ancient Rhadamanthus -past every known town, port, and point in Greece; -past Ithaca, Dulichium, the Cephallenes, Pylus, and the -rest. Nor would Eubœa, thus approached, be to Ulysses, -who had himself visited Aulis on his way to Troy, a -good type of remoteness: nor does it answer that description -for the Phæacians themselves, if we consider -it according to geographic prose; for though the way -to it is long, it is not so distant in a direct line as other -parts of Greece, Crete for example; and any people -who had made a voyage to Eubœa by sea, round the -peninsula, would know very well that the proper way -to it was by land. We must, in short, presume such -a position for the Scheria of Homer, as to imply a -communication by sea between it and Eubœa, other -than that through the known waters of Greece.</p> - -<p>But if we suppose a maritime passage from the -Adriatic round Thrace to exist, then we keep the Phæacians -entirely in their own element, as borderers between -the world of Greek experience, and the world of -fable. They still, when they carry Rhadamanthus, as -in all other cases, hang upon the skirt, as it were, of -actual humanity. And, thus viewed, Eubœa might -fairly stand for a type of extreme remoteness.</p> - -<p>3. Another passage of Homer, when understood according -to its geographical bearings, appears to me, of -itself, nearly conclusive upon this question.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span></p> - -<p>When Mercury is ordered to carry the message of -the gods from Olympus to Calypso<a name="FNanchor_579_579" id="FNanchor_579_579"></a><a href="#Footnote_579_579" class="fnanchor">[579]</a>, his proceedings -are carefully described. He equipped himself with his -foot-wings (Od. v. 44), took in hand his wand (47), -and got upon the wing (49). The next step in the -narrative is,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πιερίην δ’ ἐπιβὰς, ἐξ αἰθέρος ἔμπεσε πόντῳ·</span> (50.)</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He then bounded along the wave (51), reached the -remote island (55), landed on the beach (56), and -finally arrived at the cave (57). I think no one can -read this description, which extends over sixteen -verses, without feeling that it is meant to convey to -us, that Mercury moved with great rapidity in a right -line, the shortest by which he could reach his destination. -But now, if this be so, then, as Pieria lies to -the northward of Olympus, we have only to ask how -does he pursue his further route? From Pieria he -sweeps down upon the sea, and rides upon the waves -(54) all the way to Ogygia. It is hopeless to fit this -even by a moderate deviation either way to any existing -sea: we have only, therefore, to conclude, in conformity -with the other indications, that Homer believed -in a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> to the northward of Pieria. We cannot -take refuge in the plea, that Homer did not know where -Pieria lay. First, because it was on the Olympian border -of Thessaly, and as Homer knew that region well, he -must have known that Pieria lay to the north of it. -Secondly, it was probably within the circle of Greek -traditions; since it is sometimes read for <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πηρείῃ</span> in Il. ii. -766, and at any rate they seem to be in all likelihood -different forms of the same word. Thirdly, a complete -proof is given by the route of Juno in the Fourteenth -Iliad. She passes, in accordance with the actual geo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>graphy, -from Olympus to Pieria, from Pieria (apparently -verging eastwards) to Emathia, and so by the Thracian -mountains, evidently of Chalcidice, to Lemnos<a name="FNanchor_580_580" id="FNanchor_580_580"></a><a href="#Footnote_580_580" class="fnanchor">[580]</a>.</p> - -<p>4. There is another passage which may be cited in -direct corroboration of these views<a name="FNanchor_581_581" id="FNanchor_581_581"></a><a href="#Footnote_581_581" class="fnanchor">[581]</a>. The spirits of -the Suitors passed (1) the stream of Ocean, and (2) the -Leucadian rock; and also passed (3) the gates of the -Sun, and (4) the people of Dream Land.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Northward route to the Euxine.</i></div> - -<p>Now it may be observed, that to pass the Leucadian -rock is not the way from Ithaca to the Straits of Gibraltar: -the course would lie round either the north or -the south point of Cephallonia. Neither is it the way -to the Bosphorus and Black Sea; which must be sought -by steering first in a southerly direction. But it is the -way to Ocean, and the nether Shades, if I am correct -in my belief that Homer believed the route to lie -along the Adriatic, and round the north of Thrace. -Nor am I aware of any other view of his geography, -on which this passage can be explained. The evidence, -which it affords, is at first sight conclusive in support of -the proposition, that Homer’s route to the Ocean-mouth -lay up the Adriatic. But there are two grounds, on -which a scruple may be felt about its reception. First, -it stands in the second <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νεκυΐα</span>, the only considerable -portion of either poem which appears, to me at least, -open to the suspicion that it may have been seriously -tampered with. Secondly, the order of the passage is -singular, as it runs thus: they passed, or they went -towards, the channels of Ocean, and the Leucadian -rock, and the gates of the Sun: while, according to -Homer’s geography, the Leucadian rock would come -first, the gates of the Sun second, and Ocean-mouth -would be the last of the three points.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> - -<p>But in answer to the first, the suspicions affecting -this passage are too vague and indeterminate to warrant -our rejecting its evidence, where it is in harmony -with the general testimony of Homer. Even if these -lines were interpolated, they would be remarkable as -embodying an ancient, probably a very ancient opinion, -as to Homer’s geographical view on the point at issue.</p> - -<p>As regards the second, we may cite the parallel case -of Menelaus in his narrative of his own tour. After -Cyprus and Phœnicia, he describes his visits in the -following order: (1) Egypt, (2) Ethiopians, (3) Sidonians, -(4) Erembi, (5) Libya. It is evident that this -cannot be intended to be understood as the order in -which the several places were actually visited<a name="FNanchor_582_582" id="FNanchor_582_582"></a><a href="#Footnote_582_582" class="fnanchor">[582]</a>.</p> - -<p>We have thus, I hope, secured for Ulysses, without -drawing upon the Wanderings for testimony, what seamen -call a good or wide berth; room enough for the disposition -of his marvels, and the mystery of the distances -between them. In this northern division of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> -we may imagine Homer to have placed, without -any impropriety, or any violence done to his experience -of his own latitude, both the double day of the Læstrygones, -and the fogs of the Cimmerians. Into it he might -well drive Ulysses by the force of the south wind<a name="FNanchor_583_583" id="FNanchor_583_583"></a><a href="#Footnote_583_583" class="fnanchor">[583]</a>, and -from it bring him back by the strength of Zephyr or -of Boreas<a name="FNanchor_584_584" id="FNanchor_584_584"></a><a href="#Footnote_584_584" class="fnanchor">[584]</a>. Lastly, by means of this <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, we -can avoid placing Circe and the Sunrise to the west of -Homer’s own country; and we are not obliged to find -his representation of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span> involving him in the -hopeless absurdity of contradiction to his own experimental -knowledge of the general direction of Jason’s -course with the ship Argo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>Amalgamated reports of the Ocean-mouth.</i></div> - -<p>I now pass on to the second of the two propositions, -on which it appears to me that a reasonable interpretation -of the Outer Geography is to be founded.</p> - -<p>It is this: that the Poet has compounded into one -two sets of Phœnician traditions respecting the Ocean-mouth, -one of them originally proceeding from, or belonging -to, the West, and the other to the North-east: -and that he has chosen the north-eastern site as the -ground on which to fix the scene of his amalgamated -representation.</p> - -<p>The argument, which has recently been adduced for -another purpose from the Twenty-fourth Odyssey, is -available to show that the Ocean-mouth of Homer is -towards the north: but it does not suffice to decide the -question between North-east and North-west, nor does -it decide whether Homer simply transplanted the -Straits of Gibraltar, or whether he mixed together the -accounts of it and of some other strait, and welded -them into one.</p> - -<p>This question we must examine from the evidence -concerning the Ocean-mouth supplied by the Wanderings -themselves.</p> - -<p>Ulysses and his companions, when they enter the -great River Ocean, enter it at a point far north, by the -city and country of the Cimmerians, who are enveloped -in cloud and vapour<a name="FNanchor_585_585" id="FNanchor_585_585"></a><a href="#Footnote_585_585" class="fnanchor">[585]</a>: and they are carried up or -against the stream (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παρὰ ῥόον</span>), by the breath of Boreas<a name="FNanchor_586_586" id="FNanchor_586_586"></a><a href="#Footnote_586_586" class="fnanchor">[586]</a>, -to the mouth of the <i>Inferno</i>. Returning from thence, -they come down the stream (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κατὰ ῥόον</span> Od. xi. 639) back -to the sea (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>); and they there find themselves -at the isle of Circe, where is the dwelling of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>, and -where is also the couch, from which the sun rises in -the morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> - -<p>In this account it is not difficult to trace certain -outlines of truth. The ideas of Homer respecting the -gates of Ocean would be drawn from reports which -may have related <i>primâ facie</i> to any one of several -geographical points; to the Straits of Gibraltar, to the -Bosphorus, to the Straits of Yenikalè leading into the -Sea of Azof, or to all the three. At one and all of these -there appears to be a continual stream flowing inwards -in the direction of the Mediterranean or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>. One -and all, as sea-straits, present the character of a vast -marine river. In exact accordance with these physical -facts, Homer makes the ship of Ulysses, entering the -great River Ocean, sail up the stream. We may observe -in passing, that he describes his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρύπορος</span>, -in evident contrast with the Ocean, which is -marked, therefore, by a contraction of shores.</p> - -<p>Further, Homer had conceived the existence of what -we may call ultra-terrene parts, both westwards and -eastwards. On the one hand, Menelaus, after death, is -to be carried to the Elysian plain, where Zephyrs continually -blow, springing fresh from the bed of western -Ocean. On the other hand, the groves of Persephone -are on the beach of Ocean, but in the furthest East.</p> - -<p>Still it does not at all follow from this, that he had -in his mind the idea of a double egress from the Mediterranean, -or, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> at large, to the Ocean. On -the contrary, we never hear of any mode of access to -it except one; and his placing the point where Ulysses -enters it amidst mist and cloud, and his calling in the -aid of Boreas to carry the ship to the groves of Persephone -and mouth of the Shades (which he probably -intended to be the exact counterpart in position of the -Elysian plain), lead to the belief that his egress from -sea to Ocean was in the north, and that the further<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -route to the Shades lay, for the most part, in a southerly -direction.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Open-sea Passage to Ocean-mouth.</i></div> - -<p>The reader of the Odyssey will observe, that Ulysses -encounters on his passage tempests indeed, but yet -nothing in the nature of a dangerous maritime passage, -before he has entered the Ocean-river, and then, completing -his excursion to the nether world, has returned -to the island of Circe<a name="FNanchor_587_587" id="FNanchor_587_587"></a><a href="#Footnote_587_587" class="fnanchor">[587]</a>. Therefore we may say with -certainty, that the mouth of Oceanus is, according to -the ideas of Homer, accessible by the broad and open -sea. Thus we have attained a first condition for the -determination of its site.</p> - -<p>But, before he sets out a second time from Ææa, -Circe, now his friend, directs him as to his onward and -homeward course. First, he was to reach the island of -the Sirens<a name="FNanchor_588_588" id="FNanchor_588_588"></a><a href="#Footnote_588_588" class="fnanchor">[588]</a>. After passing beyond this, the deity no -longer lays before him a single and continuous route<a name="FNanchor_589_589" id="FNanchor_589_589"></a><a href="#Footnote_589_589" class="fnanchor">[589]</a>: -but indicates to him two alternatives, each involving a -most dangerous passage. The first is described in the -lines Od. xii. 59-72, beginning <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔνθεν μὲν γάρ</span>. The second, -which she recommends in vv. 73-110, begins -with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἱ δὲ δύω σκόπελοι</span>: where the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δὲ</span> is the <i>apodosis</i> -to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μὲν</span> of v. 59. Now, it must be remembered, that -physically there was nothing to prevent his returning -by the way he came, and thus avoiding both of these -passages. Why then does Homer expose him to such -extraordinary danger, leaving him no option but either -total destruction, or the certain loss, at the least, of six -men of his crew<a name="FNanchor_590_590" id="FNanchor_590_590"></a><a href="#Footnote_590_590" class="fnanchor">[590]</a>?</p> - -<p>The voyage of Ulysses might have been given us by -the Poet as the execution of a divine plan, comprehensively -premeditated as a whole: but it is not so: it is -shown us as simply prolonged from time to time by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -some error of his own or of his companions, or by the -spite of Neptune, or by the vengeance which the Sun -demanded and obtained<a name="FNanchor_591_591" id="FNanchor_591_591"></a><a href="#Footnote_591_591" class="fnanchor">[591]</a>. At Ææa he has nothing to -do, but to take the best way home. Tiresias had indeed -prophesied that he would come to Thrinacie<a name="FNanchor_592_592" id="FNanchor_592_592"></a><a href="#Footnote_592_592" class="fnanchor">[592]</a>, -but nowhere intimates that he was to be divinely compelled -to do this, or that he would take that route for any -other reason than according to his own best judgment. -Why then does he not return, as he had come, by the -open sea, instead of tempting either of the two passages -of peril?</p> - -<p>The answer I believe to be this. He was subject to -the resentment of Neptune, who operates by storm in -the open sea. <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Otium divos rogat in <i>patenti</i> prensus -Ægæo</span>. As in the heroic age, every wound, generally -speaking, is death, so storm either invariably or commonly -means foundering or shipwreck. Thus then Ulysses -might prudently keep to landlocked waters and narrow -seas, even with a crisis of great danger before him, -rather than face the angry Sea-god on the long passages -over the open main, by which he had come to the land -of the Cyclops, and so onwards to Ææa.</p> - -<p>Rationalized, and reduced to its simplest form, this -seems to imply that the routes pointed out to him by -Circe, and perhaps especially that which he was to prefer, -were short cuts either to his home, or at least back -into the Inner or Greek world. And in conformity -with this supposition, the whole prediction of Circe -appears to presume that a passage of moderate length -would bring him back within the known world; for it -never speaks of the breadth of any unknown sea to be -crossed, which to the navigators of that day was always -its most formidable feature.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the mental view of Homer, then, the passage of -Scylla could not lie much beyond the horizon of his own -Greek world and of geography proper. This was the -more eligible of the two routes. The other was that -of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, or Bosphorus. It was rejected as involving -certain destruction: for only Jason had safely -passed it by the aid of Juno, and Pallas was not now -at hand to succour Ulysses; since he was outside that -Greek world, to which her action has been restricted, -generally speaking, and in all likelihood for poetical -reasons, in the Odyssey. Now, since both these passages -are spoken of as apparently lying near the island of the -Sirens, which is itself separated, as far as we can judge, -by no long interval from Ææa and Circe, the next inferences -we have to draw are two of very great importance. -The first is, that although the one strait of -Homer physically corresponds with the Straits of Messina, -while by the other he plainly means the Bosphorus, -yet he conceived of these as within no great distance -of one another. The second inference is that, -according to the belief of Homer, the waters beyond -the Bosphorus were accessible by some channel other -than that of the Dardanelles and Sea of Marmora: for -otherwise Ulysses could not have placed himself on the -farther side of those terrible narrows, except by navigating -one of them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Three maritime routes to Ocean-mouth.</i></div> - -<p>There were therefore three maritime routes by which -Homer conceived that mouth of Ocean, which Ulysses -entered, to be approachable:</p> - -<p>1. The route by which the hero actually arrived -there:</p> - -<p>2. The route of Scylla and Charybdis, by which he -returned from it:</p> - -<p>3. The route of the Bosphorus, by which Jason had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -passed, and which Ulysses might, according to the description -of Circe, have attempted.</p> - -<p>But now, what in the view of Homer was this mouth -of Ocean? that is, on what geographical basis rested the -reports or descriptions which he adopted for the groundwork -of his picture? We cannot but admire, as we -pass along, the manner in which the Phœnicians guarded -the treasures of their distant markets: no way lay to -them except through a choice of terrors; terror in the -boundless expanse of devouring waters; terror in shipwreck -by the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, which none but Jason (so says -Circe, the Phœnician witness) had escaped; terror in certain -loss of men by the voracious maw of Scylla. What, -however, was this Ocean-mouth that lay beyond them?</p> - -<p>My answer is, that there are two mouths of Ocean, -either of which might tolerably correspond with the -Homeric picture, if tried only by its relation to the intermediate -points that are represented by these dangerous -passages.</p> - -<p>Firstly, the Straits of Gibraltar, leading to the Atlantic.</p> - -<p>Secondly, the Straits of Kertch or Yenikalè, leading -to the Sea of Azof.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Straits of Gibraltar as Ocean-mouth.</i></div> - -<p>1. As regards the Straits of Gibraltar, they correspond -with the Homeric description in respect of their -great distance from Ithaca: of their current ever setting -inwards to the Mediterranean: of their being accessible, -without previously leaving the wide or open sea for -any narrow passage: of their being, we may confidently -believe, within the maritime experience of the Phœnicians. -Further, on the route to them there lies an -island triangular in form, which was already described -by the name Thrinacie<a name="FNanchor_593_593" id="FNanchor_593_593"></a><a href="#Footnote_593_593" class="fnanchor">[593]</a>. Again, it would appear that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -there were other islands between Thrinacie and this -Ocean-mouth. For both Circe and the Sirens inhabit -islands. Even the nearest of the Balearic isles, namely, -Ibiza, is from the Straits of Gibraltar about as far as -Crete from Egypt, which we know to have been estimated -by the Poet at five days’ sail. It seems, however, -not unlikely that Homer, having received a notice -of the Balearic isles in the Phœnician reports concerning -the Pillars of Atlas, carried them over, together -with Atlas himself, into the eastern situation, where -he blends two sets of traditions into one. He may -therefore have been supplied from this source with -materials for his island of Circe and island of the -Sirens.</p> - -<p>Lastly, although the misty Cimmerians are close by -the Ocean-mouth, while the atmosphere of Gibraltar is -warm and sunny, yet even the fogs may find their prototype -in St. George’s Channel<a name="FNanchor_594_594" id="FNanchor_594_594"></a><a href="#Footnote_594_594" class="fnanchor">[594]</a>, or in the Straits of -Dover, and it may also be said that, in the hazy distance -of a Phœnician captain’s tale, they might from Homer’s -point of view seem to stand nearly together. But still -this is a difficulty. There are other more serious impediments, -which make it absolutely impossible for us -to say that the Homeric mouth of Ocean corresponds -with the Straits of Gibraltar. This one especially: that -he has, by a multitude of ties, fastened down his mouth -of Ocean to an eastern rather than a western site; for -there, at least hard by, is the dwelling of Aurora; there -is the morning couch of the Sun; there is Circe, sister -of Æetes, to whose country Jason sailed through the -Bosphorus; and these both have had the Sun for their -father, and Perse, daughter of Ocean, without doubt an -eastern and not a western personage, for their mother<a name="FNanchor_595_595" id="FNanchor_595_595"></a><a href="#Footnote_595_595" class="fnanchor">[595]</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -The site of Ææa will, however, together with that of -Ogygia, receive presently a fuller consideration.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Straits of Yenikalè as Ocean-mouth.</i></div> - -<p>Let us turn then to the other alternative in the inquiry.</p> - -<p>2. As the Straits of Gibraltar offer a resemblance to -the Homeric picture, by their lying beyond the Straits -of Messina, so do the Straits of Yenikalè, by their lying -beyond the Bosphorus. The perpetual current inwards<a name="FNanchor_596_596" id="FNanchor_596_596"></a><a href="#Footnote_596_596" class="fnanchor">[596]</a> -is another feature of correspondence, such as may apply -to both the cases, and such as probably assisted the -process at which I shall presently glance. The whole -group of Oriental conditions, attaching to Homer’s -Ocean-mouth, appear to be exactly realized in the -straits of Yenikalè.</p> - -<p>The Cimmerian country of Homer is represented -down to the present day by the Crimea, one of the -most ancient passages from Asia into Europe, and -probably known to the Phœnicians, who could well -enough pass the Bosphorus themselves, while making -it a bugbear to others. The cloud, in which these Cimmerians -are wrapped, finds its counterpart in the notoriously -frequent winter fogs of the Euxine. The peninsula, -lying on the very Straits themselves, is in exact -correspondence with the passage (Od. xi. 13),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἡ δ’ εἰς πείραθ’ ἵκανε βαθυρρόου Ὠκεανοῖο·</div> - <div class="verse">ἔνθα δὲ Κιμμερίων ἀνδρῶν δῆμός τε πόλις τε.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The only point of the description which is less faithfully -represented at this point than at the other, is the -epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βαθύρροος</span>. This agrees better with the deep -water of Gibraltar, than with the (now at least) shallow -current of Yenikalè<a name="FNanchor_597_597" id="FNanchor_597_597"></a><a href="#Footnote_597_597" class="fnanchor">[597]</a>.</p> - -<p>Nor is it unnatural, that near the Cimmerian darkness -he should place the home of Aurora and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -Eastern Sun: for it is out of darkness that dawn and -day must ever rise; and we have occasion to notice, in -various forms, the association in Homer’s mind of ideas -belonging to darkness with the East. Again, there is -a combination of a northerly with an easterly direction -in the conditions of the Homeric description, which is -exactly met by the position of these Straits relatively -to Greece.</p> - -<p>But if we say, that these Straits form the single prototype -of the Homeric description, we are again met -by hopeless contradictions. For there does not lie any -triangular island close by the Bosphorus, which might -answer to Thrinacie: and there is no free maritime -passage whatever, other than the Bosphorus, by which -the Ocean-mouth, that is, the mouth of the <i>Palus Mæotis</i>, -can be attained by a person who has Troy for his -point of departure.</p> - -<p>These facts appear to direct us plainly towards one -satisfactory, and as it seems inevitable, conclusion. It -is exhibited in the sentences that immediately follow.</p> - -<p>First, it seems at once clear that Homer either -knew, or else dimly figured to himself by Phœnician -report, certain geographical facts, including those which -<span class="lock">follow:—</span></p> - -<p>1. That there was an island, whose figure was defined -by a word signifying three promontories, and which was -accessible by a passage on the western side of Greece.</p> - -<p>2. That near this island, there lay on one side the -jaw of a dangerous narrow.</p> - -<p>3. That either on the other side of it or in some -other neighbouring quarter lay the open sea, and a route -along it, by which the further side of the island might -be reached, without traversing the narrow.</p> - -<p>4. That at a point beyond both these openings (I say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -nothing for the present of the points of the compass) -there lay a great stream such as he called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ὠκεανὸς</span>, -flowing always inwards to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, which he supposed -to be fed by it (Il. xxi. 196).</p> - -<p>5. That there was likewise a passage, which Homer -called the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, accessible from the eastern side of -Greece; and through which Jason, and as he believed -Jason alone, had sailed.</p> - -<p>6. That at a point beyond this passage too, there lay -an expanse of sea, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, and again a great stream, -such as he called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ὠκεανὸς</span>, flowing always inwards to -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>.</p> - -<p>Now we have seen that he gives us in the poem -one mouth, and one mouth only, of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ὠκεανὸς</span>, which -corresponds with every one of these propositions taken -singly: it is, according to him, beyond Thrinacie, beyond -the Straits of Scylla and Charybdis, attainable by an open -sea passage, and beyond the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span> or Bosphorus.</p> - -<p>It seems to follow almost mathematically, that he -believed in an open sea route, which must have lain to -the north, and which established a communication, independent -of the Bosphorus, between the Mediterranean -and the Euxine.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>He blends two sets of reports into one.</i></div> - -<p>It also hereby appears that he had received from the -Phœnicians two sets of reports, one relating to western, -and the other to north-eastern navigation, but both involving -a description of a great inward flowing stream -as an ultimate point, agreeably to his idea of the River -Ocean. These two ulterior points, obtained respectively -from each set of reports, Homer, led by the -similarity of features, has blended into one. We can -even now take his untrue representation to pieces, and -can see where and how it separates into two, each of -them geographically true. In his one mouth of Ocean<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -he has combined the conditions, that in nature belong -to two separate geographical points. Both the north-eastern -report and the western report he has amalgamated, -by carrying the remote point of the former -round, so to speak, in order to meet the latter: and -having thus made his Ocean-mouth northern, as well -as eastern, he consistently calls in Boreas to take the -ship of Ulysses to the mouth of the Shades below, so -as to fix that point in the east, because it was the -counterpart to his Elysian fields which lay in the west. -The two sets of Phœnician reports are in this way -oddly brought to integrate one another. The Ocean -mouth in the Euxine gets the benefit of the open sea -route; and the Ocean mouth at Gibraltar has credit -for being placed in a northern latitude and eastern -longitude; each report thus throwing its own separate -attributes into the common stock.</p> - -<p>The effect of thus forcing Yenikalè and Gibraltar -to meet, naturally enough brings the Faro of Messina -and the Bosphorus near to one another: and hence -Circe, in the Twelfth Book, names them to Ulysses -as alternative routes, both apparently lying in the same -region.</p> - -<p>But again I say, that in order to comprehend the -Outer or imaginary geography of the Odyssey, we must -entirely dismiss from our minds the map of Europe as -it is. We must treat as having been a real map to -Homer only the little sphere which was embraced -within the resort of ordinary Greek navigation. Beyond -that narrow range, we must consider him as -distributing land and sea in the manner he best could, -by the aid of reports, necessarily in that age most indistinct, -and in all likelihood exaggerated, and even -wilfully darkened to boot, by trading craft. Sometimes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -therefore he puts a people upon poetical <i>terra firma</i> -at points, where it fortunately but accidentally turns -out that nature has provided an antitype for the -imagery of the Poem. Sometimes he lodges them -where there is none; <i>ubi nîl nisi pontus et aer</i>. But -though details are to be thus disposed of, still the one -master variation from actual nature is this; the sea extended -from the Mediterranean to the Euxine, behind, -i. e. to the north of, the Bosphorus and of Thrace. This -gives us that open passage into the Euxine, by which -Homer supposed Ulysses to have reached the maritime -region, that Jason had sought and found through the -Bosphorus.</p> - -<p>In sum; it is too plain to require much of the detailed -proof which I have tried to give, that Homer -believed in a great expanse of waters lying somewhere -to the north. The probability is, that from some Phœnician -source he had heard rumours of the great German -Ocean. It need not to us appear strange that -his mind did not readily conceive an extent of land -like that of the continent of Europe, when we notice -that his experience made him conversant partly with -islands, partly with countries in minute subdivisions, -and of small breadth from sea to sea. This great imaginary -mass of waters he included within the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, -to which everything belonged as far as the point where -the great River Oceanus was reached.</p> - -<p>I think then that we have now found the two keys -to the Outer Geography,</p> - -<p>1. In the sea-route north of Thrace;</p> - -<p>2. In the amalgamation of the western with the -north-eastern report of the Ocean-mouth.</p> - -<p>From the site of the Ocean-mouth of Homer, we -may most naturally proceed to examine the site of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -Ææa; which, as being within one day’s sail, is a kind -of porter’s lodge to it<a name="FNanchor_598_598" id="FNanchor_598_598"></a><a href="#Footnote_598_598" class="fnanchor">[598]</a>, and is a point of the utmost -importance in the system. Hitherto I have proceeded -only by assertion, so far as the site of the Homeric -Ææa is conceived. But to defend the second main -proposition or key to the system, in the face of counter-theories, -it will be necessary to examine, with as much -care as may be, all the Homeric evidence that bears -either upon this question, or upon the kindred one -of the site of Ogygia.</p> - -<p>We have then to inquire, subject to the rules which -have been laid down, first, whether Ææa, the island of -Circe, is to be placed, its northward direction being -generally admitted, in the north-west or in the north-east?</p> - -<p>Secondly, as dependent very much upon the prior -question, and as entering at the same time largely into -the proof of it, what is the site of Ogygia, the island of -Calypso?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>North-western hypothesis for the site of Ææa.</i></div> - -<p>Now I think that the arguments, which have been -used for the north-western theory, have been principally -founded,</p> - -<p>1. Upon precipitate inferences, drawn from some -one or more of Homer’s outer-world statements, and -then illegitimately used in order to govern the rest -of them;</p> - -<p>2. Upon the course of the later tradition, which was -led, probably by the course of colonization, to identify -and appropriate the particulars of the Outer Geography -rather in the West than in the East. For Sicily and -Italy became at an early period familiar to the Greeks; -but it was long before they grew to be well acquainted -with the more dangerous, remote, and isolated navi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>gation -of the Black Sea<a name="FNanchor_599_599" id="FNanchor_599_599"></a><a href="#Footnote_599_599" class="fnanchor">[599]</a>. Perhaps, indeed, the main reason -for placing the tour of Ulysses all along in the West -has been no better than this; that Homer has given -us an account of an island apparently corresponding in -form with Sicily; which it may very well do, and yet -the conception of the site may be totally erroneous. -Again, with respect to traditional authority, I apprehend -it may be asserted, that the Fragment of Mimnermus<a name="FNanchor_600_600" id="FNanchor_600_600"></a><a href="#Footnote_600_600" class="fnanchor">[600]</a>, -which carries Jason to the East, to the chamber of the -Sun, and to the city of Æetes, as to one and the same -point, expresses an universal tradition, so far as the -voyage of the Argonauts is concerned. And I would also -observe, that the current local appropriations about the -coast of Italy seem to be given up on all hands as geographically -worthless: the only question is, not so much that -of removal, as into which of two quarters they shall be -transplanted. On the other hand, the principal arguments -for the north-eastern hypothesis are, as I conceive, -founded upon legitimate inferences, drawn from -the inner-world or experimental statements of Homer, -and then applied, by a law essentially sound, to determine -the cardinal problems of his Outer Geography.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>North-eastern hypothesis.</i></div> - -<p>For example, much will depend upon the answer -to the question, whether we are to carry the Straits -of Messina, or rather the fable of Scylla and Charybdis, -taken to represent them, eastwards, or whether we are -in preference to move the Bosphorus westwards.</p> - -<p>I answer without hesitation, that it is much more -reasonable to construe Homer as shifting essentially -the site of Scylla and Charybdis, than the site of -the Bosphorus; and for the following reasons.</p> - -<p>We have not the slightest reason to suppose that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -either Sicily or the Scylla passage came within the -experimental knowledge of Homer and the Greeks of -his time, either as to the island and the Strait themselves, -or as to the direction in which they lay.</p> - -<p>We find indeed that a continuance of winds, which -ranged between E. and S. W. detained Ulysses in Thrinacie -or Trinacria. It has from this been, as I think -by much too hastily, inferred that Thrinacie lay to the -north-west of Ithaca<a name="FNanchor_601_601" id="FNanchor_601_601"></a><a href="#Footnote_601_601" class="fnanchor">[601]</a>. Even if it did so, we should -still miss the true bearing of Sicily, which is west, with -all inclination to the south, and not north-west, from -Ithaca. But the assumption is in fact unwarranted. The -wind, which principally held Ulysses fast in Thrinacie, -was, as is evident from the passage, Notus, a southerly -wind. Eurus plays a secondary part there<a name="FNanchor_602_602" id="FNanchor_602_602"></a><a href="#Footnote_602_602" class="fnanchor">[602]</a>. Besides -this, the wind, which Ulysses needed, may have been -needed to bring him not to Ithaca, but to some -point on his way to Ithaca, from whence his bearings -would be known; to some point at which, from -the Outer, it would have been practicable for him to -re-enter the Inner or Greek world. The needful conditions -would be satisfied if, for instance, Thrinacie lay -either north-west or north-east from the Dardanelles; -and then Ulysses would want either Zephyr or else -Boreas to get there. And the opposite theory proceeds -upon the entirely arbitrary, nay, untrue, assumption, -that the way back through the Narrows was, like -the way by which Ulysses had come to Ææa, an open-sea -route, and not one in which the course would have -to be governed by fixed points of land lying along the -course.</p> - -<p>There is then no middle term between Thrinacie<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -and any fixed point of the Inner Homeric world, from -which we can by direct inference argue as to its site. -And the winds, which detain Ulysses in Thrinacie, go -far of themselves to show that this island is not on the -site of Sicily.</p> - -<p>The case is far otherwise in regard to the Bosphorus, -or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, of the Odyssey. For here we know,</p> - -<p>1. That Homer was familiar with the Dardanelles, a -stage on the way to it, and not very far from it:</p> - -<p>2. That he makes Jason pass the Bosphorus:</p> - -<p>3. That he also makes Jason settle at Lemnos, and -become sovereign of the island, evidently in connection -with his route from Thessaly to the East.</p> - -<p>But Thessaly, and Lemnos too, are places of the -inner world: with Lemnos the Poet appears to have -been accurately acquainted; and the line between that -island and the home of Jason determines absolutely so -much as this; that the general direction of his voyage was -known by Homer, at least up to this point, to have lain -to the north-eastward through the Straits of Gallipoli.</p> - -<p>I hold therefore that the passage of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span> is -fixed immovably, by known-world evidence, as to its -general direction: that to transplant it to the west, is to -break up the foundations of Homer’s experimental -knowledge, which is always to be trusted: whereas to -move his Thrinacie eastward is merely to suppose that -he gave the site which was poetically most convenient -to a tradition which, as it came to him, had no site at -all, no positive local or geographical determination.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Character and site of Thrinacie.</i></div> - -<p>Again, I take the island Thrinacie by itself; and I -contend that, although the report on which this delineation -was founded may probably have had its origin -in Sicily, yet the Thrinacie of Homer is associated -rather with the East than with the West.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - -<p>For, though he has given us no geographical means -for directly determining the site, he has supplied us -with other means that belong, not to Phœnician rumour -or fireside tale, but to his own knowledge and -experience. Since nothing can be more certain, than -that the leading local association of the Sun, for Homer -as for all mankind, is with the east. It is true that he is -in the west just as often as in the east; but we certainly -hold Napoleon to belong more to Corsica than to Saint -Helena; and so the mind connects the Sun with the -place of his daily birth, and not with that of his daily -death. Now, without entering upon any other question -for the present, I only observe, that in Thrinacie -are the oxen with which the Sun disports himself when -not engaged in his daily labours; that is, as he himself -supplies the explanation, both before they begin, and -after they are ended<a name="FNanchor_603_603" id="FNanchor_603_603"></a><a href="#Footnote_603_603" class="fnanchor">[603]</a>. In deference, then, to those -associations, founded on actual nature, which for the -present purpose are strictly facts, I cannot hesitate to -maintain, that the island of Thrinacie is upon the whole, -relatively to Greece, an eastern island.</p> - -<p>A like inference may be drawn from the names -Lampetie (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λάμπειν</span>) and Phaethusa (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φάος</span>), which he -has given to the Nymphs of the Sun. Had the island -been in his intention western, he would have called -them by names of a different etymology.</p> - -<p>And as the Scylla passage, which is on its coast, is -near the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, I think we shall pretty closely conform -to the views of Homer, if we make Thrinacie -form the western side of the Bosphorus, and if we separate -it by an imaginary or poetical Scylla from the main -land of Turkey in Europe.</p> - -<p>Again, it is admitted that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰήτης</span> has his name from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰαίη</span>. From the personal relations of Æetes, as well -as from those of his daughter Circe, we may therefore -argue respecting the site of Ææa, provided we can attach -them to any known and fixed point of the system -of Homeric ideas.</p> - -<p>Now their parentage furnishes a point of this kind, -on both the father’s and the mother’s side. Their -father is the Sun: a divinity not, like the Apollo or -Minerva<a name="FNanchor_604_604" id="FNanchor_604_604"></a><a href="#Footnote_604_604" class="fnanchor">[604]</a>, de-localized, but one having his daily sojourn -(out of work-hours) in the east. The mother is Perse: -and enough, I think, has been shown with respect to -the import of this name for the Achæan mind<a name="FNanchor_605_605" id="FNanchor_605_605"></a><a href="#Footnote_605_605" class="fnanchor">[605]</a>, to -make it pretty certain that, when Homer gives a -residence to the children of Perse, he intends it to be -in the east.</p> - -<p>It is now time to bring more directly into the discussion -a point much contested—the situation of the island -of Calypso. The usual modes of solution, which place -the original of this picture on the Bruttian coast or in -Malta<a name="FNanchor_606_606" id="FNanchor_606_606"></a><a href="#Footnote_606_606" class="fnanchor">[606]</a>, are inadmissible in spirit as well as in the -letter. For very great remoteness is the most essential -point in the description, and to bring it near would -wholly change its character. It requires eighteen days -of favourable wind<a name="FNanchor_607_607" id="FNanchor_607_607"></a><a href="#Footnote_607_607" class="fnanchor">[607]</a> to come by raft within sight of -Scheria from Ogygia: while even the distance from -Crete to Egypt, a greater one than from the Bruttian -coast to Greece, might be performed, as Homer thinks, -in five<a name="FNanchor_608_608" id="FNanchor_608_608"></a><a href="#Footnote_608_608" class="fnanchor">[608]</a>. It is the midpoint, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄμφαλος</span><a name="FNanchor_609_609" id="FNanchor_609_609"></a><a href="#Footnote_609_609" class="fnanchor">[609]</a>, of a vast -expanse of sea: and Mercury, passing thither from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -Olympus, mentions the route as one which traverses a -mighty space of water, without habitations of men between<a name="FNanchor_610_610" id="FNanchor_610_610"></a><a href="#Footnote_610_610" class="fnanchor">[610]</a>. -Again, the name of Calypso (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλύπτειν</span>) places -it wholly beyond the circle of Greek maritime experience: -as does her relation to Atlas, who holds the -pillars, that is, stands at the extremity, of earth and sea. -The first and cardinal point to be fixed therefore is its -decided, if not extreme remoteness.</p> - -<p>Next, if it is thus remote, we find by a process of -exhaustion that it must be in the north. As far as we -know, Homer recognised the African coast by placing -the Lotophagi upon it, and the Ethiopians inland from -the East all the way to the extreme West. In that -direction there is no more <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span>, or sea. And again, -as Nitzsch truly remarks, Scheria is on the proper -homeward line of the voyage of Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_611_611" id="FNanchor_611_611"></a><a href="#Footnote_611_611" class="fnanchor">[611]</a>. Consequently -he cannot pass, nor can he even approach, Ithaca while -on his way to Scheria: I add, he must come to it down -the Adriatic on his way to Ithaca.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Site of Ogygia to the East of North.</i></div> - -<p>Now we are provided with an important argument, -drawn, like some preceding ones, from what we may -fairly call Homer’s experience, and tending to fix the -site of Ogygia in the north or north-east. It is derived -from the route taken by Mercury, when he carries the -message of the Immortals to Calypso, which in another -point of view we have already had to examine<a name="FNanchor_612_612" id="FNanchor_612_612"></a><a href="#Footnote_612_612" class="fnanchor">[612]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Πιερίην δ’ ἐπιβὰς, ἐξ αἰθέρος ἔμπεσε πόντῳ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We are obliged to suppose, as has been observed, that -Mercury, who does not march, but flies like a bird wont -to hunt for fish<a name="FNanchor_613_613" id="FNanchor_613_613"></a><a href="#Footnote_613_613" class="fnanchor">[613]</a>, must move in a direct line towards -his object. But Pieria is a district stretching along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -the shore of Macedonia; it begins in the south, to the -eastward of Olympus, and then extends due north of it. -Its limits are variously defined<a name="FNanchor_614_614" id="FNanchor_614_614"></a><a href="#Footnote_614_614" class="fnanchor">[614]</a>; but the only question -about it could be, whether it verges, not to the westward, -but to the eastward of North. Again, from the -route of Juno in the Fourteenth Iliad<a name="FNanchor_615_615" id="FNanchor_615_615"></a><a href="#Footnote_615_615" class="fnanchor">[615]</a>, no question -can arise, except what would tend to give Pieria an -eastward turn.</p> - -<p>A line drawn from Olympus over the centre of -Pieria would carry Mercury to the North. It might, -consistently with the condition of crossing Pieria, diverge -a little either to the east or the west of due -North, but only a little. Consequently the island of -Calypso may be affirmed to be, according to the intention -of Homer, in the North, and not very far from -due North.</p> - -<p>This conclusion is confirmed by two other arguments; -which are both of the class which I have described as -legitimate, because they are founded on Homer’s physical -knowledge of the direction of the winds.</p> - -<p>After the storm has destroyed the ship of Ulysses to -the south of Thrinacie, Notus, a wind of decidedly -southerly character, carries him back again to Scylla, -Od. xii. 426: and again, when he has passed it, he -proceeds thus<a name="FNanchor_616_616" id="FNanchor_616_616"></a><a href="#Footnote_616_616" class="fnanchor">[616]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἔνθεν δ’ ἐννῆμαρ φερόμην, δεκάτῃ δέ με νυκτὶ</div> - <div class="verse">νῆσον ἐς Ὠγυγίην πέλασαν θεοί.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now there is no mention between these two passages -either of any change of wind, or of any particular wind. -Consequently it seems rational to assume that Homer -meant us to understand a continuance of the wind just -named, namely Notus. Even independently of this -collocation, we should be thrown back upon the general<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -rule of the Wanderings, which is that southerly winds -blow Ulysses away from home, while northerly ones -bring him back again.</p> - -<p>Consequently, the natural construction to put upon the -passage is, that it was a south wind, whether a little -east or west of south matters not much, which continued -to blow, and which drifted Ulysses away from Ithaca -to the island of Calypso. This is in entire accordance -with the passage which describes him as windbound -by Eurus and Notus at Thrinacie; since the way from -home is presumably the exact reverse of the way towards -it. But it will be said, this implies that he made westing -on his way to Ogygia from Ææa. I answer, that this is -probably so: for Circe is described as immediately connected -with the east, while Calypso is far, as Mercury -complains, from all land and habitation: so that apparently -her island is, in the intention of Homer, materially -to the westward, as well as greatly to the -northward, of Ææa. But the main direction taken -from Scylla is northward; and, since Scylla is near the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span> are the Bosphorus of actual -nature, it must be taken from a point near the Bosphorus, -along the imaginary expanse of an enlarged and -westward-reaching Euxine.</p> - -<p>According to this argument, then, Ogygia might lie -upon a line drawn from Mount Olympus in a direction -not very wide either way of St. Petersburgh.</p> - -<p>Nor are we wholly without means of measuring the -distance. He floats (from Scylla) for nine days, and arrives -on the tenth. Now this is just what happened -to the pseudo-Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_617_617" id="FNanchor_617_617"></a><a href="#Footnote_617_617" class="fnanchor">[617]</a>, who in the same space of time -drifted from a point near Crete to the country of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -Thesprotians. We may therefore fix Ogygia as (in the -intention of the Poet), at about the same distance from -Scylla, which we measure from the south of Epirus to -a point near, yet not in sight of, Crete. But this in -passing.</p> - -<p>The corresponding argument is derived from the -homeward passage of Ulysses, and stands as follows:</p> - -<p>For seventeen days Ulysses pursues his raft-voyage -from Ogygia to Scheria; and the raft threatens to -founder on the eighteenth. He then floats, by the aid -of the girdle he had received from Ino. Up to this point -there is no positive indication of the wind; the argument -from the relation between his course and the stars -I will consider shortly. But after he has put on the -girdle, and when Neptune withdraws his persecution, -since he is now approaching the horizon of the Inner -world again, Minerva’s agency revives, and she sends a -north wind or a north-north-east wind, Boreas, to bring -him to Scheria.</p> - -<p>Now there is no reason for our supposing that Homer -meant to represent Ulysses as changing his general -direction at this particular point. The orders of Circe -with respect to the stars all indicate a single right line -from Ogygia to Scheria, and neither the wind nor his -course alter, until he has seen the island on the far horizon. -The natural inference therefore is, that Boreas, the -N. or N. N. E. wind, which at last drifted him in, was -the wind which had brought him all the way from the -island of Calypso, over an unbroken and unincumbered -expanse of sea.</p> - -<p>We appear to have seen, thus far, that Ogygia is -greatly to the northward, and probably somewhat to -the westward, of the Strait of Scylla. We shall obtain -further light upon the site of that island, if we can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -more precisely define the position of Scylla with regard -to what lay southward, as well as with respect to what -lay northward, from it.</p> - -<p>Our <i>data</i> are as follows:</p> - -<p>1. Thrinacie appears to be close to Scylla, for it is -reached <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτίκα</span> (xii. 261).</p> - -<p>2. The comrades of Ulysses, when they arrive at the -island, and when he attempts to dissuade them from -landing, reply by asking what is to become of them if -they set sail at night, and are then caught by a squall -of Eurus or of Zephyr (284-93).</p> - -<p>3. The ship is windbound in Thrinacie for a month -by Eurus and Notus; which may be taken in Homer as -the winds that cover the whole horizon from a point -north of east to the western quarter<a name="FNanchor_618_618" id="FNanchor_618_618"></a><a href="#Footnote_618_618" class="fnanchor">[618]</a>.</p> - -<p>4. When they finally set sail, we are not told with -what wind it was: but, after they have got out of -sight of the island, the sky darkens, and mischief -follows<a name="FNanchor_619_619" id="FNanchor_619_619"></a><a href="#Footnote_619_619" class="fnanchor">[619]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">αἶψα γὰρ ἦλθεν</div> - <div class="verse">κεκληγὼς Ζέφυρος, μεγάλῃ σὺν λαίλαπι θύων·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and the ship goes to pieces in the tempest. At length -Zephyr ceases, and Notus blows Ulysses back upon -Scylla.</p> - -<p>5. If it was the intention of Homer to place Thrinacie -by the Bosphorus, then the next point which Ulysses -had to make was the Dardanelles.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Scylla and the Dardanelles.</i></div> - -<p>The question therefore is, what conclusion can we -draw from the evidence now before us as to the position -of Scylla relatively to the Dardanelles? I think a -pretty clear one.</p> - -<p>We have at least two of those statements, which may -be called experimental, now before us. Homer knew the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -position of the mouth of the Dardanelles. He knew -the nature of the wind Notus. And there is a third -piece of evidence not unimportant, which we may here -properly bring into view. We have seen that, in Il. ii. -845, Homer confines or contains his Thracians (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔντος -ἐέργει</span>) by the Hellespont: and the Hellespont with him -means all the waters from the Sea of Marmora to the -northern Ægæan inclusive. Now by this he intends -only a part of the Thracians, those, say, of the plain of -Adrianople. It is presumable therefore that he believed -the configuration of the coast at the two extremities -of the Dardanelles to be something like at -least two of the sides of a square, running N. and W. -respectively: for unless it formed a portion of some -marked figure, it would not answer his description of -including a certain district, and the words would become -applicable to the whole of Thrace alike. Therefore -it appears that Homer thought the northern coast -of the Sea of Marmora trended, from its western point, -more rapidly to the north, than is really the case.</p> - -<p>The most decisive evidence, however, is that which -had been previously named.</p> - -<p>When the storm came, which shattered the ship, -Ulysses was on the true course from Thrinacie to the -Dardanelles. But if we know the point for which he -was making in a right line from point <i>x</i>, and if we -also know the wind which carried him back to point <i>x</i>, -then the line on which point <i>x</i> itself lies is also known. -In other words, as Notus, or say the S.S.W. wind, carried -him back upon Scylla, Scylla lies to the N.N.E. of -the inner mouth of the Dardanelles: and the unnamed -wind which takes him back to Scylla is Notus, which we -are entitled to consider as blowing (even as Boreas, its -counterpart, blows from due N. to the eastward) from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -any point between the limit of Eurus on the East of -South, and 45 or even 90 degrees beyond South to the -westward.</p> - -<p>Ææa, then, is in the East; with somewhat of an inclination, -as measured from Greece, towards the north. -Ulysses has much westing to make, in order to get to -Scheria. Part of this is made on his passages between -Ææa and Ogygia in the farther north. The rest in the -course of his long seventeen days’ voyage from the north, -which is propelled, as it would appear, by Boreas, and -therefore includes also a slight westerly inclination.</p> - -<p>All these arguments converge towards the same conclusions, -and all of them are mainly founded, not on -Homer’s outer-world representations, but upon indications -drawn from his knowledge of nature, or else -from his experimental or otherwise familiar acquaintance -with the Inner world: that is, they are built not -on the figures of his fancy, but on the facts of his own -and his countrymen’s every-day experience.</p> - -<p>And now let us consider the adverse construction -put upon the text of the Odyssey; particularly with -regard to the island of Ææa.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Why Ææa cannot lie North-westward.</i></div> - -<p>It is quite plain, from the accounts given of the -route both ways, that the Ocean-mouth is meant by -Homer to be near the island of Ææa; that is, within -a day’s sail<a name="FNanchor_620_620" id="FNanchor_620_620"></a><a href="#Footnote_620_620" class="fnanchor">[620]</a> of that island. How is this reconcilable -with the doctrine, which places the island in the far -north-west? In the north-east we have an Ocean-mouth, -the situation of which the Poet, guided up to -a certain point by his inner-world knowledge, has not -very inaccurately conceived. In the north-west there -is no Ocean-mouth. The Straits of Gibraltar, though -they lie rather to the south of west from Ithaca, must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -be carried far into the north for the purpose; in what -form, or with what accompaniments, it is hard to conceive. -To attempt such a transposition would involve -the complete abandonment of all actual geography, and -would after all leave us involved in hopeless confusion -in the effort to construct any tolerable scheme from the -text of Homer.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Construction of</i> Od. xii. 3, 4.</div> - -<p>At the mere transportation, indeed, we need not -scruple overmuch, if we could justify the proceeding -by other clear indications of Homer’s intention. But -there is no such justification. It is hardly possible to -exaggerate the violence done to the text of Od. xii. 3, 4, -by the interpretation which Nitzsch (following, as I admit, -Eustathius), puts upon it. The ship, leaving the -stream of Ocean, reaches the sea and the island<a name="FNanchor_621_621" id="FNanchor_621_621"></a><a href="#Footnote_621_621" class="fnanchor">[621]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">νῆσόν τ’ Αἰαίην, ὅθι τ’ Ἠοῦς ἠριγενείης</div> - <div class="verse">οἰκία καὶ χοροί εἰσι, καὶ ἀντολαὶ Ἠελίοιο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀντολαὶ</span>, the rising, or rising-point of the sun, -does not, he says, mean the east, but only the first appearance -of the sun on their return from darkness, which -is a kind of dawning on them. And the dwelling of -the early-born Dawn, and the place (such appears to -be the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χόροι</span>) of the Dances of her kindred -or attendant Nymphs—who in later mythology became -the virgin train of Hours, that now delight us in the -frescoes of Guido and Guercino—not only do not mean -anything eastern, but apparently in this place are conceived -to have no meaning whatever, and to be an -idle, indeed a most inconvenient and bewildering, pleonasm. -And thus the magic poetry of this passage -and all the curious traditions it involves, are destroyed, -in order to make room—for what? For the hypothesis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -that Homer places the dwelling of Morning and the -chamber of the rising Sun far to the westward of the -country that he himself inhabited<a name="FNanchor_622_622" id="FNanchor_622_622"></a><a href="#Footnote_622_622" class="fnanchor">[622]</a>!</p> - -<p>There is, I confess, something almost of <i>naïveté</i> in -the confession of Nitzsch, that ‘it sounds rather strange -to interpret <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀνατολαὶ</span> without any reference to sunrise, -since it is the customary counterpart to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δύσις</span>, the sunset.’ -But fortunately there is no Homeric evidence -against it: as indeed there cannot well be, since the -word occurs in no other passage. With respect to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>, -Nitzsch contends that it means not dawn, but light: -and he quotes the passages which say, ‘your glory -shall reach as far as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>,’ and ‘horses, the best to be -found beneath the Sun and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠώς</span>.’ Certainly it is most -allowable, (though I by no means think the sense of -dawn inadmissible in these two passages,) especially as -day goes nowhere except preceded by dawn, to generalize -the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span> so as to make it equivalent to light. -But the fatal flaw in the interpretation is this, that when -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span> is thus used, it is invariably apart from any circumstances -which can give a local colour to its meaning. -But wherever there is any thing local implied, as is -admitted to be in the case before us, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠὼς</span> uniformly -means the east, though with a certain indefiniteness -perhaps as to northward and southward inclination. -For instance, when Homer speaks of omen-birds flying -eastwards, he describes them as flying <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρὸς ἠώ τ’ ἠέλιόν -τε</span>, and the opposite movement as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποτὶ ζόφον</span>, which -here evidently means north-west, although it too may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -signify darkness in general. The whole aim of the -passage (Od. xii. 1-5) is, to fix locality; and it is in -the teeth of all Homeric usage to deprive <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠὼς</span> in such -a passage of local force, while it confessedly can have -no local meaning but an eastern one.</p> - -<p>To me, I confess, it appears that Homer has nowhere -done more, and rarely so much, in a single passage, as -in this, with a view of declaring his intention. The -island Ææa, irrespective of all geographical argument, -is, as we have seen, directly bound and fastened to an -eastern site by four separate cords. First, as the rising -point of the Sun. Secondly, as the residence of Dawn. -Thirdly, because Circe, its mistress, has the Sun, the -most eastern of all mythological conceptions except -the Dawn, for her father. Fourthly, because she has -also Perse, whose name indicates a trans-Phœnician -origin, for her mother. And further, I am convinced -we cannot alter the place of Ææa without uprooting -the whole Phœnician scheme of the Outer Geography.</p> - -<p>The scope and range thus given to the adventures -of Ulysses confines them without doubt to the northern -semi-circle, but allows them to reach, within that semi-circle, -to its eastern and to its western extremities, as -they are imagined by the Poet. Æolus and the Læstrygonians -are evidently placed by him in the north-west. -The hypothesis, which has here been maintained for -Ææa and Calypso, supplies an effectual counterpart, -and properly fills up the eastern corner. But, independently -of all other objections, the north-western hypothesis -for these islands jumbles them, if I may so -speak, in one heap with the others, and leaves the -eastern quarter towards the North wholly unoccupied. -And yet that East was, for a Greek, the source and the -scene of the richest legendary and mythological repre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>sentations. -Such an incongruous view of the question -would not, I think, be at all in keeping with Homer’s -ordinary modes of conceiving, handling, and presenting -his materials.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Construction of</i> Od. v. 276, 7.</div> - -<p>But I am aware that, up to this time, we have left -out of view a passage, of which I freely admit that the -prevailing, and in so far the most obvious, interpretation -is against me. Ulysses sails over the sea from Ogygia, -governing the rudder of his raft with art, and watching -the stars, especially the Great Bear; which at that -period, I believe, was nearer the Pole, and was a more -conspicuous and splendid astronomical object, than it -now is. It was with respect to this constellation that -he had received a particular order from Calypso<a name="FNanchor_623_623" id="FNanchor_623_623"></a><a href="#Footnote_623_623" class="fnanchor">[623]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τὴν γὰρ δή μιν ἄνωγε Καλυψὼ, δῖα θεάων,</div> - <div class="verse">ποντοπορευέμεναι ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς ἔχοντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Or, according to the common construction of the words, -he was to keep that constellation on the left during -his voyage. But if his course lay in the direction of -a right line drawn from St. Petersburgh to Corfu, it -appears that Arctus, when visible to him, would be -visible on the right, and not on the left.</p> - -<p>I could not, however, accommodate myself to this passage -at such a cost as that of oversetting an interpretation -of the general scheme, which is so deeply rooted -both in the letter and spirit of the poem, as is the -eastern, and likewise somewhat north-eastern, hypothesis -for Ææa, together with a northern site for Ogygia. -These two, it may be observed, stand together. It is -plain, from the times occupied by the several stages -between Ææa and Ogygia, and from the language -used where no precise time is stated, that the Poet -conceived the distance between them to be limited,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -though very considerable. And indeed the north-western -hypothesis for Ææa would do nothing for the -passage I have quoted, unless we also carry Ogygia -into the north-west, in order that Ulysses, on his way -home from it, may have Arctus on his left. Inasmuch, -however, as the admission of the received sense for the -lines would involve us in a new series of the most complicated -and hopeless contradictions, we must look for -relief in some other direction.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>On the genuineness of the passage.</i></div> - -<p>I desire to eschew, as a general rule, the dangerous -and seductive practice of questioning the genuineness -of the text because it seems to stand in conflict with -a favoured interpretation. I may however state, without -unduly relying on them, one or two particulars -which, drawn from the poem itself, may show that -these two lines are not unjustly open to the suspicion -of interpolation.</p> - -<p>1. The two lines are wholly void of any necessary -connection with what precedes and follows them, and -the text is complete without them. We should not -break up the passage generally by removing them. -This argument, however, is one purely negative.</p> - -<p>2. These lines tell us, that Calypso had bid Ulysses keep -Arctus on his left. Now Homer has given us a speech -of Calypso<a name="FNanchor_624_624" id="FNanchor_624_624"></a><a href="#Footnote_624_624" class="fnanchor">[624]</a> on the subject of this voyage, in which she -promises to send, from behind him, a breeze which shall -carry him home. But there is in this speech no order -to him whatever about observing the stars; and the -promise of the wind in some degree, though not perhaps -quite conclusively, tends to show that no such injunction -was needed. For it is plain that, if the wind blew -fair across the open sea, he did not depend at all upon -the helm, and noticing the stars would be of no assist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>ance -to him. I rely, however, more upon this, that -there is here a sort of patchwork, very unlike Homer’s -usual method, in the mode in which the injunction is -recorded. Clearly, if Calypso gave a direction respecting -the stars, the proper place for it was in the speech -where she delivered to Ulysses what may be called his -general instruction for the voyage. And I am not sure -whether another instance can be found in the whole of -the poems, where an omission of something relevant -and material in one of the speeches is supplied by a -recital in the subsequent narrative. It is wholly contrary -to the manner of Homer, who so uniformly throws -into speech and the dramatic form whatever is susceptible -of being thus handled.</p> - -<p>3. The expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς</span> is found nowhere -else in Homer, though the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> -occurs many times.</p> - -<p>4. There is no other passage in the Wanderings, or -elsewhere in the poems, which describes the conduct -of navigation by means of the stars. In the Iliad we -have the mention of a star in connection with sea-travelling; -but it is simply as a portent, (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ναύτῃσι τέρας</span>, -Il. iv. 76). On this, however, if it stood alone, I should -place no commanding stress: and it should also be observed -that the objection is one which, if admitted, -would displace eight lines.</p> - -<p>So much for the genuineness of the passage.</p> - -<p>As respects the grammatical meaning of the phrase, -I have endeavoured to discuss it at large in a separate -paper; and to show that its real sense is in fact the reverse -of that which is ordinarily assumed. It means, I -believe, a star looking <i>towards</i> the left, and therefore -a star looking <i>from</i> and situated <i>on</i> the right hand in -the sky.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> - -<p>In no case, however, can I admit it to be the true -meaning of Homer, that Ulysses is to follow a south-westward -course from Ogygia to Scheria; because this is -at variance with all the trustworthy, I must add with the -consentient, indications of Homer’s intention in the whole -arrangement of the tour, as well as in the particular description -of Circe’s island. It is also in contradiction to -those indications, drawn from his inner or experimental -geography, which determine at certain points the bearings -applicable to the Outer or Phœnician sphere.</p> - -<p>Before proceeding to draw up in propositions the -whole outline of the interpretation which I venture to -give to the route of Ulysses, I would call attention to -the means, which the Poet has adopted to signify to us -his own doubt and incertitude respecting its actual -bearings at several important points.</p> - -<p>By means of the wind Boreas he indicates to us the -direction, not however the distance, of the Lotophagi. -After leaving them, he tells us nothing either of distance -or direction between their country and that of -the Cyclopes. From this point he provides us with -certain aids until we reach Æolia. When in Æolia, -Ulysses is to the north-west of Ithaca: for the Zephyr -given by Æolus, he says, would have carried him home. -From this isle, six days of rowing take him to Læstrygonia. -Another passage of indefinite length next carries -him to Ææa; and, arriving here, he is entirely out of -his bearings; he cannot tell where is east or west<a name="FNanchor_625_625" id="FNanchor_625_625"></a><a href="#Footnote_625_625" class="fnanchor">[625]</a>, the -point of dusk or the point of dawn, until he has been -duly instructed by Circe: but he sees an unbounded -sea (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόντος ἀπείριτος</span>) on every side of him.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homer’s geographical misgivings.</i></div> - -<p>This expression of ignorance, put into the mouth of -Ulysses, probably conveys the true sense of the Poet;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -who, more or less puzzled with even his own method of -harmonizing the Phœnician reports, and suspecting that -it might not bear the test of application to actual nature, -shielded himself by anticipation, through giving us to -understand that he did not mean to submit Circe’s isle -to the strict rules of geographical measurement.</p> - -<p>And indeed it was no wonder that he felt some diffidence, -when we recollect that he had to concentrate -in a single point facts or traditions that embraced east, -north, and west. Eastern his site must be to allow of -the rising of the sun, and the accompanying legends: -he may have had misgivings, lest his Thrinacie, and also -other traditions of which he had to work up the materials, -should in reality lie westward from Greece: -lastly, an appreciable northern element was involved in -the general direction of the navigation through the -Bosphorus, which in fact supplies a kind of meeting-point -for the two former. The remedy is, thus to -hang the island of Circe in a vague and shadowy distance, -which gives the nearest practicable approach to -an exemption from the laws imposed by any determinate -configuration of the earth.</p> - -<p>Nor are these the only cases, in which Homer has -afforded us tokens of his own want of clear knowledge -and confidence in regard to the scenes through which he -has carried his hero. On the contrary, he has indicated -the haziness of his views, and the insecurity of the -ground he trod, by forbearing in several other instances -to fix with precision the particular winds which favoured -or opposed the voyage of Ulysses, or to particularize the -distances he travelled.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homeward route of Ulysses.</i></div> - -<p>We are now at liberty to approach the last portion -of our subject. We have, I trust, fixed the distinction -of the Inner and Outer Geography; ascertained the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -keys of the outer system, and fixed its governing points. -It remains to inquire what, according to the data ascertained, -did the Poet intend to be the route of Ulysses -over the face of his ideal map; and then, finally, to show -its relation to that of Menelaus, and to Homer’s general -conception of the configuration and distribution of the -surface of the earth.</p> - -<p>I. His first halting-place, after quitting Troy, is with -the Cicones, in Thrace. This visit was paid with scarcely -a deviation from his homeward route: and therefore it -does not belong to the Outer Geography. The Cicones -of the Odyssey were probably placed near the northernmost -point of the Ægæan sea (Od. ix. 39).</p> - -<p>II. From the country of the Cicones, he sails southward, -under a heavy north-north-east gale (Od. ix. 67), -which lasts for three days. He has then fair weather, -till he gets to Cape Malea. But, as he is rounding -Cape Malea, the north-north-easter returns, and drives -him down the west coast of Cythera (now Cerigo), and -so out to sea (79-81). After nine days’ sail, with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀλοοὶ -ἄνεμοι</span>, he reaches the land of the Lotophagi (82-4). -Now, as it took five days of the best possible wind to -sail from Crete to Egypt (Od. xiv. 253), we may perhaps -assume that, in the ten days of veering gales, -about an equal distance was made in the general direction -of south-south-east indicated for us by the Boreas -of v. 82. This will place the Lotophagi on the -Syrtis Major, now the Gulf of Sidra. Here the region -of the marvel-world begins: and the mention of -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀλοοὶ ἄνεμοι</span>, in lieu of the pure Boreas, may be -taken as fair notice from the Poet, that he had no precise -knowledge on what portion of the coast of Africa -Ulysses was to set his foot.</p> - -<p>The Lotophagi are full of Egyptian resemblances:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -and it appears that, as Egypt and Phœnicia were for -Homer the two greatest border-lands between the real -and the imagined worlds, therefore Ulysses makes his -first step into the Outer world through a quasi-Egyptian -people, and his last step out of it among a quasi-Phœnician -people.</p> - -<p>III. The voyage from the land of the Lotophagi to -the next stage, the country of the Cyclopes, is without -the smallest indication either of distance or direction -(103-5). But as, within the Outer sphere, northern -winds are always homeward, and southern ones carry -Ulysses outward, we may assume that Homer here -intended some southern wind; though, as he breaks at -this juncture the last link with the known world, he -could not venture to state any thing like the precise -point of the compass.</p> - -<p>Shall we place the Cyclopes of Homer on any point -of <i>terra firma</i>, or must we imagine a country for them?</p> - -<p>Tradition has answered this question by commonly -placing them in Sicily. But a vague tradition, as we -have seen, is of little authority in regard to Homeric -questions; and in this instance, I think, it may be shown -to be in error, for the following reasons:</p> - -<p>1. The country of the Cyclopes is not an island: it is -mainland (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γαίη Κυκλώπων</span>, 106), with an island near to -it, 105. By the expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γαίη</span>, Homer sometimes means -a great island such as Crete: but we have no authority -for supposing he would apply it to Sicily.</p> - -<p>2. It can hardly be doubted that the little which -Homer probably did know of Sicily is represented to -us by his Thrinacie. And all this consists in two points: -the first, that it was an island (Od. xii. 127): the -second, that it was triangular, and derived its name -from its form. But his Thrinacie he has given to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -oxen of the Sun: and therefore he certainly does not -mean it to be the land of the Cyclopes, or he would -have given it the same name on both occasions. Indeed, -on the contrary, he has actually given another name to -the land of the Cyclopes: it is the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρύχορος Ὑπέρεια</span> of -Od. vi. 4. I may add, that the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐρύχορος</span> is not -generally applicable to Sicily, which is channelled all -through with hill and dale, and which nowhere, unless -perhaps between Syracuse and Catania, seems to present -any great breadth of plain.</p> - -<p>3. Besides this, Ulysses traverses very long distances<a name="FNanchor_626_626" id="FNanchor_626_626"></a><a href="#Footnote_626_626" class="fnanchor">[626]</a>, -in order to reach Ææa from Hypereia: but -Thrinacie, on the other hand, is very near Ææa, so that -he has not retraced his distance, and therefore cannot -be in Sicily.</p> - -<p>Where then were situated these Cyclopes, to whose -country Ulysses came after quitting the Lotophagi? It -is plain that they were not within the Greek maritime -world, or Homer would, we may be sure, have indicated -their position by the time of the voyage, or by the -quarter from which the wind blew to take him there.</p> - -<p>I submit that Homer meant to place the Cyclopes in -Iapygia, the heel of Italy; a region nearly corresponding, -on the west of the Ionian sea, with the position of -Scheria on the east. This hypothesis is consistent with -the whole evidence in the case, and might well stand -on that ground only. But it is, I think, also sustained -by a separate argument from the migration of the -Phæacians<a name="FNanchor_627_627" id="FNanchor_627_627"></a><a href="#Footnote_627_627" class="fnanchor">[627]</a>.</p> - -<p>The Phæacians, descended like the Cyclopes from -Neptune, were recent inhabitants of Scheria; they formerly -dwelt near the Cyclopes in Hypereia, and were -dislodged from thence by the violence of their brutal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -neighbours. They removed under Nausithous, and -settled in Scheria.</p> - -<p>They were flying from a race who had no ships with -which to follow them. If Hypereia in which they lived -was Iapygia, any place in the situation of Scheria, or -near it, would be a natural place of refuge for them. -But if they had been in Sicily, Homer in all likelihood -would not have carried them beyond the neighbouring -coast of Italy, which would have afforded them the security -they desired.</p> - -<p>IV. From Iapygia or Hypereia, the country of the -Cyclopes, Ulysses proceeds to pay his double visit to -Æolia. We are not assisted in the first instance (Od. -ix. 565. x. 1.) by any indication of wind or distance. -It is not unfair to presume that Stromboli, with its -active volcano, was the prototype of this gusty island. -But, like other places, it is not on the site of its prototype. -For Æolus gives Ulysses a Zephyr or north-west -wind, which would have carried him home, had it not -been for the folly of his comrades (Od. x. 25, 46). The -Æolia of Homer then must conform to these two -conditions:</p> - -<p>1. It must lie north-west of Ithaca.</p> - -<p>2. There must be a continuous open sea between -them; and one uninterrupted by land, so that one -and the same wind may carry a ship all the way.</p> - -<p>To meet these conditions, we have only to move -Æolia northward. For the northern part of Italy has -no existence in the Outer Geography. It is swept -away, along with the great mass of the European continent, -and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> covers all.</p> - -<p>After the opening of the bag (x. 48, 54) the ship is -driven back by a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θύελλα</span> upon Æolia. But here we -have had another valuable indication. They had en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>joyed -the Zephyr nine full days, and they were in sight -of home on the tenth (v. 28, 9), when the folly was -committed. Therefore Æolia is between nine and ten -days’ sail to the north-west of Ithaca: or, with an allowance -of fifty miles for the distance to the horizon, there -will be about one thousand miles between them.</p> - -<p>V. The fifth stage is Læstrygonia: and it is reached -after seven days’ rowing (x. 80). There is no indication -of direction in the voyage: but we have a sure -proof that the prototype of this place was far north; -namely, that there is here perpetual day;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ποιμένα ποιμὴν</div> - <div class="verse">ἠπύει εἰσελάων, ὁ δέ τ’ ἐξελάων ὑπακούει.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It cannot, I think, be doubted that Homer obtained -information of a region displaying this natural peculiarity -from Phœnician mariners, who had penetrated -into the German Ocean to the northward of the British -Isles. His retentive mind has, then, made an early record -of this, along with so many other singular reports, -out of which a large proportion have been verified.</p> - -<p>There is another proof that we are here nearly, or rather -quite, at the furthest bound of distance ever reached -by Ulysses. For the united distances (1) from within -sight of Ithaca to Æolia, and (2) from Æolia to Læstrygonia, -make seventeen days, the same number occupied -in a much slower craft on the voyage from Ogygia -to Scheria.</p> - -<p>It will be found, under the rules of calculation which -have been adopted, that we may place Læstrygonia at -near seventeen hundred miles from Iapygia. If we are to -suppose that by the name Artacie, given to the fountain -in Læstrygonia, he means an allusion to a place of that -name in the Euxine, I take this as a new sign of his dim -and confused extension of that sea to the westward.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> - -<p>The name Læstrygonia appears to belong to a city, -not to a country. It is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τηλέπυλος</span>, and it is also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Λάμου -αἰπὺ πτολίεθρον</span>. Homer avoids calling it either a land -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γαίη</span>) or an island (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νῆσος</span>). By the former term he -sometimes designates large islands as well as portions -of a continent. The epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰπὺ</span> points to a steep and -rocky site: but his forbearing to fix it as continent or -island seems to show, that he was himself in doubt -upon the point. The trait of perpetual day, however, -speaks most explicitly for the <i>bona fides</i> of the tradition -on which the Poet proceeds, and for the latitude -from whence it came: and it seems far from improbable -that Iceland may have been the dimly perceived -original of Læstrygonia; of which the site in the Odyssey -is near the actual site of Denmark.</p> - -<p>VI. The sixth stage is Ææa. This could only be -reached by a long passage from Læstrygonia. The -Poet has not ventured to define its extent or direction. -But he leaves himself an ample margin by the declaration -from the mouth of Ulysses, that he knew nothing -on his arrival of the latitude or longitude (Od. x. 190-2): -and he is content with planting it immovably near the -point of sunrise, though with a great vagueness of conception -(Od. x. 135-9; xii. 1-4).</p> - -<p>There is indeed something near a verbal contradiction -between the declaration of Ulysses in Od. x., that -he, being then at Ææa, did not know where to look for -sunrise or for sunset, and his narrative in xii. 3, 4, -where he so directly associates the island with the -land of sunrise. But he had remained there a full year -in friendly company with Circe (x. 466-9), and he was -instructed by her as to his movements, so that we -may, I presume, fairly consider that during that time he -learned what on his first arrival was strange to him.</p> - -<p>The course from Læstrygonia to Ææa is <i>primâ facie</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -conjectural: but it is not really so, for Læstrygonia is -fixed by the times and winds from Hypereia; and Ææa -is practically determined by its local relations to Ocean-mouth, -Thrinacie, and the Bosphorus.</p> - -<p>The Euxine does not abound in islands, such as we -might appropriate to Circe and the Sirens: for it is -little likely that a rock like the Isle of Serpents, which -on a recent occasion acquired a momentary notoriety, -should have been noticed particularly in the navigation -of the heroic age. It is much more likely, that Homer -brought his islands for the Euxine from among the -materials provided by his western traditions. We may -however reasonably presume that Homer meant to place -Ææa at the east end of the Euxine, not far perhaps -from the Colchis of Æetes: and in that neighbourhood -I shall venture to deposit three islands, vaguely corresponding -with the Baleares, which may have been -transplanted into this vicinity together with the other -traditions of the western Ocean-mouth.</p> - -<p>(1) From hence, under the directions of Circe, they -sail for one day with a toward breeze, to the Ocean-mouth, -hard by that abode of the Cimmerians, which is -wrapt in perpetual mist and night (Od. xi. 1-19). Circe -promised them the aid of Boreas, when Ulysses, alarmed -at the unusual journey he was to make, asked who would -guide him. I therefore infer that Boreas was to blow -not before, but after, they had entered the Ocean-mouth, -and was to carry them up the stream. Before reaching -it, we may assume that, as usual on his way outwards, he -was sailing with a wind from some southern quarter.</p> - -<p>(2) In the Ocean-river, they haul their vessel high -and dry, and proceed by land up the stream to the -mouth of the Shades or under-world (Od. xi. 20-2).</p> - -<p>(3) From the mouth of the Shades they return to -their ship, and in it down (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κατὰ</span>) the Ocean stream,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -and to the Ææan island. They go first by rowing, and -then by a favourable breeze, of which the direction is -not mentioned (Od. xi. 638-40; xii. 1-3: also xxiii. -322-5.)</p> - -<p>VII. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σειρήνων νῆσος.</span> This island is reached with an -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἴκμενος οὖρος</span>; the quarter is not named, nor is the distance, -but from the terms of the passages it would appear -to have been very short. (Od. xii. 149-54, 165-7; -also 39, and xxiii. 326.)</p> - -<p>VIII. Avoiding the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span>, the hero passes between -Scylla and Charybdis, to Thrinacie, the island -of the Sun. The strait is reached forthwith, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτίκα</span> -(Od. xii. 201), after leaving the island, and Thrinacie -is reached forthwith in like manner (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτίκα</span> v. 261) -after leaving the strait (Od. xi. 106, 7; xii. 262; -xxiii. 327-9. The last passage appears to place the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πλαγκταὶ</span> and the Scylla passage close together, as it -says that he came to them both, though he passed only -through Scylla).</p> - -<p>In Thrinacie he is detained by Notus, blowing for a -month, and by the total absence of any wind but Notus -and Eurus. The common point of these winds is, that -they are chiefly in the southern hemisphere. Also it -would seem from this part of the Fourth Book that -Boreas was evidently the wind that Ulysses required -to help him forward on his way home, rather than -Zephyrus: for it was the latter wind that caught them -when they were already on their passage, and brought -the hurricane in which the ship went to pieces (Od. -xii. 408).</p> - -<p>Accordingly, as the Bosphorus is geographically fixed, -I place Thrinacie beside it, and Scylla beside Thrinacie.</p> - -<p>It will be observed that, after allowance is made for -too much northing in the north coast of the Propontis,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -the mouth of Scylla will be at the point, from which a -N. N. E. wind would have brought Ulysses to the -Dardanelles, and would thus have placed him, by the -shortest cut, at the very gate of the Ægæan, and of -the known route to his home.</p> - -<p>The Crimea has so much the character of an island, -and its south-eastern face appears to be both in scenery -and climate so delightful, while again its proximity to -the Ocean-mouth of the Odyssey is so suitable, that -we might be tempted to consider it as representing -the abode of the Sirens. But it is too large for one -of Homer’s <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νῆσοι</span>. Probably, too, the isle of Sirens should -lie on the direct route from Ææa to the Straits.</p> - -<p>IX. When out of sight of the island (403), the ship -encounters a violent <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ζέφυρος</span>, and founders. Ulysses -mounts on a couple of spars (424). In one night Notus -drifts him upon the passage of Scylla and Charybdis, -which he traverses in safety (427-30, 442-6), and then -drifting on, apparently with the same wind, he reaches, -on the tenth day, the island of Calypso, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ὠγυγίη νῆσος</span> -(xii. 447, 8; xxiii. 333), which is the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄμφαλος</span> or central -point of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θάλασσα</span> (Od. i. 50): that is to say which, -as nearly due north from Greece, not only is conceived -to be alike removed from the supposed eastern and -western Ocean, but also if not equidistant, yet very -distant, at all points from main land.</p> - -<p>X. The next stage to Ogygia is Scheria, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σχερίη</span> (Od. -vi. 8), or the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γαίη Φαιήκων</span> (Od. v. 345). Leaving Ogygia -on his raft (v. 263 and seqq.), he keeps Arctos set -on his right, and looking towards his left hand, till on -the eighteenth day (v. 278), he arrives in sight of -Scheria. Neptune, coming up from among the Ethiopians, -discerns him afar, from the Solyman mountains -(282). The storm rises, and the raft is tossed in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -hurricane of all the winds (293 and 331, 2). At length -it founders (370): Minerva sends a brisk Boreas, and -the hero drifts to Scheria, arriving on the third day -(382-98). Homer gives to Scheria the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤπειρος</span> -(Od. v. 348, 50); and it does not appear clear that he -considered it as an island. At the same time, the term -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤπειρος</span> may mean the shore: and the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γαίη</span> may -be used, like <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κρήτη τις γαί’ ἐστιν</span>, for an island, if it be -presumed to be of extraordinary size.</p> - -<p>XI. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἰθάκη</span>. The living ship of the Phæacians leaves -somewhat early in the day, after the proper rites; the -goods having been stowed at daybreak (Od. xiii. 18, -and seqq.) No wind is named: but, with a speed -more rapid than that of a hawk, the vessel, propelled -by oars, reaches Ithaca before the next dawn. Od. xiii. -78, 86, 93-5.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Directions and distances from Ææa.</i></div> - -<p>We have however still to consider the directions and -distances of the tour, from Ææa onwards, on the way -home.</p> - -<p>Homer plainly intends to describe very short passages, -first to the island of the Sirens, next from that -island to Scylla, and then from Scylla to the landing -on the coast of Thrinacie. They are not defined: but -they by no means correspond with the very considerable -eastward stretch of the Euxine from the Bosphorus.</p> - -<p>It has already been observed that Homer shortens -the eastern recess of the Mediterranean, and brings -Egypt nearly to the southward of Crete: and that this -is part of a system of compression which abbreviates -all the distances of his Outer geography eastward from -Lycia. We have now come to another example of the -working of this idea in his mind: placing Ææa and -the Sirens so near the Bosphorus, he plainly curtails the -eastward Euxine, like the eastward Mediterranean.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ten days floatage northwards from Scylla would give -us a distance of nearly five hundred miles in that direction, -up to the point where we should fix the island of -Calypso.</p> - -<p>But from Ogygia to within sight of Scheria, Ulysses -occupies eighteen days in sailing by raft: which will -give us for the whole distance at sixty miles <i>per diem</i>, -with an allowance of fifty miles, as the distance from -which Ithaca had become visible, about eleven hundred -and thirty miles. We have also to consider the further -question, how far Scheria is to be placed from Ithaca. -We must reckon the time occupied by the hawk-like -ship at not less than sixteen hours; and we cannot -reckon the distance below one hundred and eighty or -ninety miles. Thus Ogygia ought to be reckoned at -fully thirteen hundred miles from Ithaca. Læstrygonia -is, as we have found, nearly seventeen hundred from -Ithaca. And the site of Ogygia will be upon the point -which is both at the distance of five hundred miles -from the Homeric or transposed Scylla, and of eleven -hundred and thirty miles from the Homeric Scheria. -This point will, I think, lie a little to the west of the -real site of Kieff.</p> - -<p>The actual distance from Ithaca to the middle point -of Corfu may be about eighty miles. Corfu is said to -resemble in its natural features the Scheria of Homer. -But if this be admitted, we must remove the site of -the island in the direction of Dalmatia to more than -double its real distance from Ithaca, so as to satisfy -the conditions of the Phæacian voyage. It will then -be near the point where we may, consistently with all -the representations of Homer, cut off the Greek peninsula, -and substitute for the northward land the great -spaces of his sea.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span></p> - -<p>The island of Calypso, thus determined, will satisfy -in a great degree the conditions of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄμφαλος θαλάσσης</span>. -It may be nearly equidistant from Ææa and the -Cimmerian country in the south-east, from Scylla in -the south, and from the possible extension of the Cimmerian -country to the north. Towards Æolia and -Læstrygonia on the west the distances will indeed be -greater; but as among very great distances Homer -may naturally fail to maintain the close measurements -of small ones.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Tours of Menelaus and Ulysses compared.</i></div> - -<p>Thus, then, we have brought Ulysses home; and -now let us proceed to examine the undeveloped, but -still rather curious, relation between the tours of the -two chieftains, Ulysses and Menelaus.</p> - -<p>The readers of Dante will recollect with what complex -precision, as a poetical Architect, he has actually, -for the purposes of his work, built an Universe of Hell, -Purgatory, and Paradise. Every line of his poem has -a determinate relation to a certain point in space, fixed -in his own mind; but whether every such point be fixed -or not in nature is no more material, than if it were -simply one to be determined by axes of coordinates. -Intricate as the fabric is, this great brother of Homer -in his art never for a moment lets drop the thread -of his labyrinth, but holds it steadily from the beginning -of the first canto to the end of the hundredth. -Homer, composing for a younger world, had to deal -with all ideas whatsoever in simpler forms; but, I -think, it is discernible that in his way he, too, made -a systematic distribution of the Outer Earth, as he had -rather vaguely conceived it in his teeming imagination.</p> - -<p>We are apt to forget, from the comparatively summary -manner in which the subject is dismissed by the -Poet, that the voyages and travels of Menelaus occupy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> -a time almost as long as those of Ulysses. He has but -recently returned, says Nestor to Telemachus, in the -last year of his father’s wanderings<a name="FNanchor_628_628" id="FNanchor_628_628"></a><a href="#Footnote_628_628" class="fnanchor">[628]</a>: and Menelaus -himself states, that he came home only in the eighth -year after the capture of Troy<a name="FNanchor_629_629" id="FNanchor_629_629"></a><a href="#Footnote_629_629" class="fnanchor">[629]</a>. And as in point -of time, so likewise they are geographically in correspondence. -To Menelaus Homer has given, in outline, -the southern world from east to west, and to -Ulysses, in detail, the northern world from west to -east. It is true that he made Ulysses begin his -Wanderings, properly so called, with the Lotophagi in -Africa: but this is because it was necessary to throw -him at Malea, by some wide and irrecoverable deviation, -off his route to Ithaca. So Menelaus loses his course at -the very same critical point, the Malean Promontory<a name="FNanchor_630_630" id="FNanchor_630_630"></a><a href="#Footnote_630_630" class="fnanchor">[630]</a>. -Then the two strike off to the opposite ends of the diameter: -Menelaus to Crete, for Cyprus, Phœnicia, and -Egypt, in the south-east; Ulysses to Africa, for the Cyclopes, -Æolia, and Læstrygonia, in the north-west. Again, -Menelaus visits Libya to the westward, where, it will -be remembered, he is to find his home after death in -the Elysian fields. The counterpart of this is in the -eastward movement of Ulysses along a northern zone -to the isle of Circe, and in his visit to the Shades. -Again, it is Phœnicia, which in the south-east forms -a kind of boundary line between the known and the -unknown world. Accordingly Homer has given us an -idealized Phœnicia on the north-western line. Perhaps -only partial, but still perfectly real, resemblances of -character establish a poetical relation between the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνικες</span> and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φαίηκες</span>. Other parts of the Phæacian -character might seem to have been borrowed from the -Egyptians. No one, I think, can doubt that Homer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -had the Phœnicians to some extent in his mind, when -he invented the Phæacians. But he has given us -another etymological sign of the connection. The -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνικες</span> stand in evident connection with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Συρίη</span><a name="FNanchor_631_631" id="FNanchor_631_631"></a><a href="#Footnote_631_631" class="fnanchor">[631]</a>. Who -but they could give that name to the island where -Eumæus was born? an island with which we see them -to have been in relations by a double token; the first, -a Phœnician slave carried thither by the Taphians; and -the second, Eumæus as a boy carried off thence by the -Phœnicians, who had paid it a visit with a cargo of -fine goods. The island of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ψυρίη</span>, lying north-west -from Chios, probably owed its title to the same -source: if not also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σκῦρος</span>, corrupted from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Συρός</span>. -Surely then, like <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φαίηκες</span> from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνικες</span>, so Homer made -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σχερίη</span> from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Συρίη</span>. It being always remembered that -Scheria is for Homer, like Phœnicia, a maritime land. -It is nowhere called an island; from which we know, -that Homer either believed it to be attached to the -continent, or to form, like Crete<a name="FNanchor_632_632" id="FNanchor_632_632"></a><a href="#Footnote_632_632" class="fnanchor">[632]</a>, a continent of itself.</p> - -<p>The Erembi of Menelaus are generally understood -to be the Arabians. The Æthiopes, whom he also -visits, extend from the extreme east to the furthest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -west of the surface of the earth; and they possibly may -have a counterpart in the Cimmerians of the north. In -the same zone with the Æthiopes, on the borders of -Ocean to the south, a passage of the Iliad places the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνδρες Πυγμαῖοι</span><a name="FNanchor_633_633" id="FNanchor_633_633"></a><a href="#Footnote_633_633" class="fnanchor">[633]</a>. Herodotus supports Homer in this, -as in most other particulars. And the researches of the -most recent travellers sustain the assertion of these -two old ethnologists of Greece, that there are dwarfed -races in the interior of Africa, accessible from Egypt.</p> - -<p>Thus, then, it would appear in general that the -voyage and travels of Menelaus, together with those of -Ulysses, including in the former his final passage to -Elysium, cover the entire surface of the earth, such as -Homer had conceived it. This, however, can only be -taken generally, and tells us little of what Homer -thought concerning the actual form of the earth’s -surface, while it leaves untouched various questions -regarding its distribution in detail. With some of -these let us now endeavour to deal.</p> - -<p>And first, what was Homer’s belief concerning the -form of the earth?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Earth of Homer probably oval.</i></div> - -<p>The passage of the poems which bears most directly -upon the solution of this question is that which describes -the Shield of Achilles. We here learn that, in -finishing his work, Vulcan gave it the great River -Ocean for a border<a name="FNanchor_634_634" id="FNanchor_634_634"></a><a href="#Footnote_634_634" class="fnanchor">[634]</a>. From this it follows conclusively, -that the form of the Shield was that which Homer -also conceived to be nearest to the form of the surface -of the Earth.</p> - -<p>The question then arises, what was the form of the -Shields treated of by Homer? And it is one not easy -to answer. Homer compares the light of this very -Shield of Achilles in a subsequent passage to that of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> -the moon<a name="FNanchor_635_635" id="FNanchor_635_635"></a><a href="#Footnote_635_635" class="fnanchor">[635]</a>: but he does not say the full moon, and -the moon in certain stages might suggest the oval, -although when full it would require the circular shape. -The epithets which he uses do not solve the question: -for some of them appear to agree better with the one -supposition, and some with the other. The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄσπις -ἀμφιβρότη</span>, for instance, in Il. xi. 32, suggests a shape -adapted in a great degree to that of the human form. -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποδηνεκὴς</span> of Il. xv. 646 appears absolutely to require -it. No circular shield, which reached down to -the feet, could have been carried on the arm. But, on -the other hand, Homer calls the shield <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὔκυκλος</span><a name="FNanchor_636_636" id="FNanchor_636_636"></a><a href="#Footnote_636_636" class="fnanchor">[636]</a> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παντόσε ἴση</span>, which certainly at first sight favour the -idea of a circular form. Shall we then suppose that -both forms prevailed? And if so, which of the two -shall we assign to the Shield of Achilles?</p> - -<p>It appears that in the military system of historic -Greece the round shield chiefly prevailed; but for the -time of Homer I cannot help leaning to the supposition -that the Shield was oval. For I do not know any -explicit testimony, with respect to its primitive form, -that can weigh against the lines of Tyrtæus<a name="FNanchor_637_637" id="FNanchor_637_637"></a><a href="#Footnote_637_637" class="fnanchor">[637]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">μήρους τε, κνήμας τε κάτω, καὶ στέρνα, καὶ ὤμους</div> - <div class="verse indent4">ἀσπίδος εὐρείης γαστρὶ καλυψάμενος.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Another strong testimony to the same effect is borne -by the ancient custom of bearing the dead warrior -upon his shield, whence came the old formula of the -Spartan mothers, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἢ τὰν, ἢ ἐπὶ τάν</span>; Bring it, or be -brought upon it<a name="FNanchor_638_638" id="FNanchor_638_638"></a><a href="#Footnote_638_638" class="fnanchor">[638]</a>.</p> - -<p>With respect to the Homeric epithets, it is impossible -to reconcile those which favour the oblong form<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -with the rival sense: but the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">παντόσε ἴση</span> might apply -to any regular figure, and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὔκυκλος</span> is hardly strained -if we understand it of an oval pretty regularly formed.</p> - -<p>To a certain extent, the natural form of the hides -of animals affords an indication; they were worn as -cloaks coming down to the heels, and they would properly -cut into the oblong form<a name="FNanchor_639_639" id="FNanchor_639_639"></a><a href="#Footnote_639_639" class="fnanchor">[639]</a>. Again, in the expression -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σάκος σακέϊ προθελύμνῳ</span><a name="FNanchor_640_640" id="FNanchor_640_640"></a><a href="#Footnote_640_640" class="fnanchor">[640]</a>, I understand the epithet -to mean that the shields were rested on the ground in -front of the bearers of them. The meaning common -to it, in the three places where Homer uses it, -seems to be ‘from the ground,’ or ‘from the base.’</p> - -<p>It would not be satisfactory to assume that the two -forms prevailed, but that they had, though different, -been confounded by Homer; and on the whole we -shall perhaps do best to consider the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σάκος</span> as an oval.</p> - -<p>It follows that such was, in Homer’s estimation, the -form of the world. And this interpretation agrees with -the other Homeric indications on the subject.</p> - -<p>We must, I think, take Homer to have supposed -something like an equal extension of the earth northward -and southward from Greece. But, whether we -judge from the Tours of the Odyssey or from the general -indications of the poems, we have, I think, no sign -of an extension correspondingly great either eastward -or westward. The flights of migratory birds, and the -prevailing winds, are both evidently from the poles or -from the quarters near them. The only great positive -developments of distance in the Odyssey are those -towards Læstrygonia and Ogygia, both of which lie in -the north; the latter, as an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄμφαλος</span>, with a sea stretching -far beyond it. All appearances, too, go to show -that the Eastern Ocean was in Homer’s view at no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -great distance; and I apprehend we should consider -the Western one as being on his map about equally -remote from Greece. Now the oval figure will give -us what we thus appear to want, namely a shorter -diameter of the earth from east to west, than the -diameter from north to south. Some other particulars -of evidence will appear as we proceed.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Points of contact with Oceanus.</i></div> - -<p>In conformity with his declaration, that the Ocean-River -surrounds the earth, he as it were realizes his -belief in it, by giving us instances of actual contact -with it at very many points of the compass. Thus the -Pigmies in the South are visited by the cranes, on their -way to the Ocean in the South<a name="FNanchor_641_641" id="FNanchor_641_641"></a><a href="#Footnote_641_641" class="fnanchor">[641]</a>. The gods feast with -the Ethiopians by the Ocean, and this must be in the -S. E., as Neptune takes the Solyman mountains (which -are in immediate association with Lycia, a point of the -inner world) on his way back to the <i>Thalassa</i><a name="FNanchor_642_642" id="FNanchor_642_642"></a><a href="#Footnote_642_642" class="fnanchor">[642]</a>. Ulysses -visits Ocean, as we have seen, in the East. The -Great Bear escapes dipping into its waters in the -North<a name="FNanchor_643_643" id="FNanchor_643_643"></a><a href="#Footnote_643_643" class="fnanchor">[643]</a>. Menelaus is destined to the Elysian plain -beside the Ocean, at the point from which Zephyr -blows, therefore between West and North<a name="FNanchor_644_644" id="FNanchor_644_644"></a><a href="#Footnote_644_644" class="fnanchor">[644]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Caspian Sea and Persian Gulf.</i></div> - -<p>This noble conception of a great circumfluent River -was doubtless founded upon reports of two classes -which had reached Homer. One class would be reports -of streams flowing from some great outer water -into the <i>Thalassa</i>, and seeming to feed it. The other -class might be formed by reports of waters outside the -<i>Thalassa</i>, and not known to communicate with it, -which Homer would at once very naturally reckon as -portions of his great world-embracing Stream. With -the former class we have already dealt largely in dis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>cussing -the Ocean-mouth. To the latter one, Phœnician -sailors might contribute reports of the Atlantic -and German Oceans. And particularly in the east, I -think, we cannot doubt that, along with the rumours -and traditions of Arabians, Ethiopians, Persians, and -Cimmerians, Homer cannot but have received other -vague rumours of waters as well as lands; of waters -exterior to his <i>Thalassa</i> (which included the Mediterranean -and the Euxine), waters of which two would clearly -be the Caspian Sea, and the Persian Gulf. On these -two I wish to fix attention; and indeed the only other -water he was likely to have heard of would probably -be the Red Sea. Now it will be observed upon any -map, 1. that the Caspian lies north and south; 2. that -a line prolonged from N. to S. down the Caspian will -strike the Persian Gulf. In conjunction with this, let -the reader observe the course of Ulysses. Quitting -the Euxine at the Ocean-mouth, or Straits of Yenikalè, -he turns round to the right by the Sea of Azof, enlarged -so as to join the Caspian. In the interval between -them there is still a low salt valley, which may -in Homer’s time have been a water-way<a name="FNanchor_645_645" id="FNanchor_645_645"></a><a href="#Footnote_645_645" class="fnanchor">[645]</a>. He is thus -in a condition to proceed southward towards the dwelling -of Persephone, which I have already shown some -cause for placing in the east and to the south. Now the -provision of wind, which Homer has made for his hero, -is precisely that which this hypothesis requires<a name="FNanchor_646_646" id="FNanchor_646_646"></a><a href="#Footnote_646_646" class="fnanchor">[646]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τὴν δέ κέ τοι πνοιὴ Βορέαο φέρῃσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In other words, from Homer’s use of Boreas in this -place it appears that he meant to describe the course -of his Ocean-stream at this quarter as from south to -north, or thereabouts; and this is the line actually -formed by the junction of the Persian gulf and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -Caspian, which I submit that we may accordingly with -propriety consider as genuine fragments of geography, -incorporated into his fabulous conception of the Ocean-stream.</p> - -<p>It is indeed true that the vague accounts, which had -probably reached Homer of these two waters, must be -supposed not to have included the indispensable element -of a current. The same remark, however, will apply -to whatever he may have heard of the German or Atlantic -Oceans. But in dealing with these shadowy -distances, his inference would be amply warranted, -without the means of complete identification, if he had -heard of any waters in positions agreeing with that of -his ideal Ocean, capable of communicating easily with -its mouth, and, above all, independent of the <i>Thalassa</i>.</p> - -<p>One word before we finally quit the subject of the -enchanted River; in order to complete the chain of -connection between the Persephone of Homer and the -waters of the Persian gulf, in the character of a part -of Ocean, at that point upon the beach, which so well -balances the Elysian plain in the west.</p> - -<p>I have already endeavoured to make use of the -names Perseus, Perse, and Persephone, as evidences -which attach the Persians to the eastern extremity of -Homer’s ideal world, and which connect the Greek -race with a Persian origin. But here we have a geographical -trait, which deserves further consideration. -The groves of Persephone are on the shore of Ocean, -in the east, and to the south of the sunrise. What is -the meaning of these groves? We are compelled, by -unvarying analogies of signification, to understand them -as both the symbols and the sites of a certain organized -worship, which was paid to Persephone. But if paid, -then paid by whom? Certainly not by the nations of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -the dead: for the place, where these groves were, was -not within the kingdom of the goddess, but it was on -the shore of Ocean. Ulysses, too, was to haul up his -ship there, and only then to enter into the abode of -king Aidoneus. It therefore seems to follow, that the -Poet meant us to understand this as a place where -Persephone was habitually worshipped by a portion of -the human race, which could only be his Persians or -his Ethiopians. I do not say that the two were sharply -severed in his mind; but here the race to which he -chiefly points appears to be the Persian race<a name="FNanchor_647_647" id="FNanchor_647_647"></a><a href="#Footnote_647_647" class="fnanchor">[647]</a>.</p> - -<p>There are even etymological signs, independent of -Homer, which deepen the association between the East -and the Under-world. Some writers have compared -the name Cimmeria with the Arabic word <i>kahm</i>, -black, and <i>ra</i>, the mark of the oblique case in Persian: -Mæotis with the Hebrew Maweth, meaning death: and -have treated the ancient Tartarus as equivalent to the -modern Tartary, and as formed by the reduplication of -Tar, in Tarik, the Persic word for darkness<a name="FNanchor_648_648" id="FNanchor_648_648"></a><a href="#Footnote_648_648" class="fnanchor">[648]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Contraction of the Homeric East.</i></div> - -<p>Next let me wind up what relates to the contraction -and compression of the Homeric East.</p> - -<p>Homer’s experience did not supply him with any example -of a great expanse of land: but the detail and -configuration of the countries, with which he was acquainted, -was minute. This probably was the reason -why he so readily assumed the existence of that sea -to the northward of Thrace, in which he has placed -the adventures of Ulysses. To that sea, as we perceive -from the terms of days which he has assigned to the -passages of Ulysses, he attached his ideas and his epithets -for vastness; epithets, which he never bestowed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -on regions of land; and ideas, which were sure, indeed, -to form a prominent feature in the Phœnician reports, -that must have supplied him with material. Acting -on the same principle, it would appear that he greatly -shortens the range of Asia Minor eastwards. Through -the medium of the Solymi (Il. vi. 184, 204) he appears -to bring the Solyman mountains close upon Lycia. A -chain now bearing that name skirts the right bank of -the Indus: but it is probable that Homer identified, -or rather confounded, them with the great chain of the -Caucasus between the Euxine and the Caspian, and -with the Taurus joining it, and bordering upon Lycia: -for, on the one hand, we cannot but connect them -with the Solymi, the warlike neighbours of the Lycians: -and on the other, since Neptune, from these -mountains, sees Ulysses making his homeward voyage -from Ogygia, it follows that they must have been conceived -by Homer to command a clear view of the -Euxine, and of its westward extension. Thus he at once -brings Egypt nearer to Crete (helping us to explain -the Boreas of Od. xiv. 253), and Phœnicia nearer to -Lycia: and it is in all likelihood immediately behind -Phœnicia that he imagined to lie the country of the -Persians and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλσεα Περσεφονείης</span> (Od. x. 507), on -the shore of that eastern portion of Oceanus, for which -the reports both of the Caspian and of the Red Sea, -probably, as we have seen, have formed parts of his -materials. Thus we find much and varied evidence converging -to support the hypothesis, that Homer greatly -compressed his East, and brought Persia within moderate -distance of the Mediterranean.</p> - -<p>In the obscure perspectives of Grecian legend, we -seem to find various points of contact between Egypt, -Phœnicia, and Persia; and each of these points of con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>tact -favours the idea that Persia and Phœnicia were -closely associated in Homer’s mind.</p> - -<p>Proteus, a Phœnician sea-god, is placed only at a -short distance from the Egyptian coast. Helios, -strongly associated with Egypt through his oxen, is -associated with Phœnicia and with the remoter east -by his relationship to Circe, and by his residence, the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀντολαὶ Ἠελίοιο</span>. And again, from the family of Danaus, -a reputed Egyptian, descends Perseus, in whose -name we find a note of relationship between the -Persians and the Greeks. Lycia, too, is near the Solymi, -and the Solyman hills are really Persian. Here -is a new ray of light cast on Homer’s passion for the -Lycians of the War<a name="FNanchor_649_649" id="FNanchor_649_649"></a><a href="#Footnote_649_649" class="fnanchor">[649]</a>.</p> - -<p>A few words more will suffice to complete a probable -view of the terrestrial system of Homer.</p> - -<p>The Ocean surrounds the earth. On its south-eastern -beach are the groves of Persephone, and the descent -to the Shades: on its north-western, the Elysian plain. -The whole southern range between is occupied by the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰθίοπες</span>, who stretch from the rising to the setting -sun<a name="FNanchor_650_650" id="FNanchor_650_650"></a><a href="#Footnote_650_650" class="fnanchor">[650]</a>. The natural counterpart in the cold north to -their sun-burnt swarthy faces is to be found in the -Cimmerians, Homer’s Children of the Mist<a name="FNanchor_651_651" id="FNanchor_651_651"></a><a href="#Footnote_651_651" class="fnanchor">[651]</a>. Accordingly, -they are placed by the Ocean mouth, hard by the -island of Circe and the Dawn; nearly in contact, therefore, -with the Ethiopians of the extreme east. Two -hypotheses seem to be suggested by Homer’s treatment -of the north. Perhaps Homer imagined that -the Cimmerians occupied the northern portion of the -earth from east to west, as the Ethiopians occupied -the southern: a very appropriate conjecture for the disposal -of the country from the Crimea to the Cwmri.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> -On the other hand, it seems plain that Homer must -have received from his Phœnician informants two reports, -both ascribed to the North, yet apparently contradictory: -the one of countries without day, the other -of countries without night. The true solution, could -he have known it, was by time; each being true of -the same place, but at different seasons of the year. -Not aware of the facts, Homer has adopted another -method. While preserving the northern locality for -both traditions, he has planted the one in the north-west, -at the craggy city of Lamus; and the other in -the north-east, together with his Cimmerians.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Outline of his terrestrial system.</i></div> - -<p>On the foundation of the conclusions and inferences -at which we have thus arrived, I have endeavoured to -construct a map of the Homeric World. The materials -of this map are of necessity very different. First, there -is the inner or Greek world of geography proper, of -which the surface is coloured in red.</p> - -<p>Next, there are certain forms of sea and land, genuine, -but wholly or partially misplaced, which may be -recognised by their general likeness to their originals -in Nature.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, there is the great mass of fabulous and imaginative -skiagraphy, which, for the sake of distinction, -is drawn in smooth instead of indented outline.</p> - -<p>The Map represents, without any very important -variation, the Homeric World drawn according to the -foregoing argument. To facilitate verification, or the -detection of error, I have made it carry, as far as possible, -its own evidences, in the inscriptions and references -upon it.</p> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 442px;"> -<a href="images/zill_t621h.jpg"> -<img src="images/zill_t621.jpg" width="442" height="700" alt="" /> -</a> -<div class="caption"> - -<span class="large">MAP</span><br /> - -<span class="small">of the</span><br /> - -Outer Geography of the Odyssey<br /> - -<span class="small">AND OF THE</span><br /> - -Form of the Earth<br /> - -<span class="small">ACCORDING TO HOMER.</span></div> -</div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">EXCURSUS I.<br /> - -<span class="smaller">ON THE PARENTAGE AND EXTRACTION -OF MINOS.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>In former portions of this work, I have argued from the -name and the Phœnician extraction of Minos, both to illustrate -the dependent position of the Pelasgian race in the Greek -countries<a name="FNanchor_652_652" id="FNanchor_652_652"></a><a href="#Footnote_652_652" class="fnanchor">[652]</a>, and also to demonstrate the Phœnician origin of the -Outer Geography of the Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_653_653" id="FNanchor_653_653"></a><a href="#Footnote_653_653" class="fnanchor">[653]</a>. But I have too summarily -disposed of the important question, whether Minos was of Phœnician -origin, and of the construction of the verse Il. xiv. 321. -This verse is capable grammatically of being so construed as -to contain an assertion of it; but upon further consideration -I am not prepared to maintain that it ought to be so interpreted.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Genuineness of Il.</i> xiv. 317-27.</div> - -<p>The Alexandrian critics summarily condemned the whole -passage (Il. xiv. 317-27), in which Jupiter details to Juno his -various affairs with goddesses and women. ‘This enumeration,’ -says the Scholiast (A) on verse 327, ‘is inopportune, for -it rather repels Juno than attracts her: and Jupiter, when -greedy, through the influence of the Cestus, for the satisfaction -of his passion, makes a long harangue.’ Heyne follows -up the censure with a yet more sweeping condemnation. <i>Sanè -absurdiora, quam hos decem versus, vix unquam ullus commentus -est rhapsodus</i><a name="FNanchor_654_654" id="FNanchor_654_654"></a><a href="#Footnote_654_654" class="fnanchor">[654]</a>. And yet he adds a consideration,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> -which might have served to arrest judgment until after further -hearing. For he says, that the commentators upon them -ought to have taken notice that the description belongs to a -period, when the relations of man and wife were not such, as to -prevent the open introduction and parading of concubines; and -that Juno might be flattered and allured by a declaration, proceeding -from Jupiter, of the superiority of her charms to those -of so many beautiful persons.</p> - -<p>Heyne’s reason appears to me so good, as even to outweigh -his authority: but there are other grounds also, on which I decline -to bow to the proposed excision. The objections taken -seem to me invalid on the following grounds;</p> - -<p>1. For the reason stated by Heyne.</p> - -<p>2. Because, in the whole character of the Homeric Juno, and -in the whole of this proceeding, it is the political spirit, and not -the animal tendency, that predominates. Of this Homer has -given us distinct warning, where he tells us that Juno just -before had looked on Jupiter from afar, and that he was -disgusting to her; (v. 158) <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στυγερὸς δέ οἱ ἔπλετο θυμῷ</span>. It is -therefore futile to argue about her, as if she had been under -the paramount sway either of animal desire, or even of the -feminine love of admiration, when she was really and exclusively -governed by another master-passion.</p> - -<p>3. As she has artfully persuaded Jupiter, that he has an -obstacle to overcome in diverting her from her intention of -travelling to a distance, it is not at all unnatural that Jupiter -should use what he thinks, and what, as Heyne has shown, he -may justly think, to be proper and special means of persuasion.</p> - -<p>4. The passage is carefully and skilfully composed; and it -ends with a climax, so as to give the greatest force to the compliment -of which it is susceptible.</p> - -<p>5. All the representations in it harmonize with the manner of -handling the same personages elsewhere in Homer.</p> - -<p>6. The passage has that strong vein of nationality, which is -so eminently characteristic of Homer. No intrigues are mentioned, -except such as issued in the birth of children of recognised -Hellenic fame. The gross animalism of Jupiter, displayed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> -in the Speech, is in the strictest keeping with the entire context; -for it is the basis of the transaction, and gives Juno the -opportunity she so adroitly turns to account.</p> - -<p>7. Those, who reject the passage as spurious, because the -action ought not at this point to be loaded with a speech, do -not, I think, bear in mind that a deviation of this kind from -the strict poetical order is really in keeping with Homer’s practice -on other occasions, particularly in the disquisitions of Nestor -and of Phœnix. Such a deviation appears to be accounted -for by his historic aims. To comprehend him in a case of this -kind, we must set out from his point of departure, according to -which, verse was not a mere exercise for pleasure, but was to -be the one great vehicle of all knowledge: and a potent instrument -in constructing a nationality. Thus, then, what the -first aim rejected, the second might in given cases accept and -even require. Now in this short passage there is a great deal -of important historical information conveyed to us.</p> - -<p>We may therefore with considerable confidence employ such -evidence as the speech may be found to afford.</p> - -<p>Let us, then, observe the forms of expression as they run in -series,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐδ’ ὁπότ’ ἠρασάμην Ἰξιονίης ἀλόχοιο</span><a name="FNanchor_655_655" id="FNanchor_655_655"></a><a href="#Footnote_655_655" class="fnanchor">[655]</a>.</div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐδ’ ὅτε περ Δανάης καλλισφύρου Ἀκρισιώνης</span><a name="FNanchor_656_656" id="FNanchor_656_656"></a><a href="#Footnote_656_656" class="fnanchor">[656]</a>.</div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐδ’ ὅτε Φοίνικος κούρης τηλεκλείτοιο</span><a name="FNanchor_657_657" id="FNanchor_657_657"></a><a href="#Footnote_657_657" class="fnanchor">[657]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Sense of Il.</i> xiv. 321.</div> - -<p>Taken grammatically, I presume the last verse may mean, -(1) The daughter of the distinguished Phœnix: or (2) The -daughter of a distinguished Phœnician: or (3) A distinguished -Phœnician damsel.</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> Against the first it may be urged, that we have no other -account from Homer, or from any early tradition, of this Phœnix, -here described as famous.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> Against the second and third, that Homer nowhere -directly declares the foreign origin of any great Greek personage.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> Also, that in each of the previous cases, Homer has used -the proper name of a person nearly connected in order to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> -indicate and identity the woman, whom therefore it is not -likely that he would in this single case denote only by her -nation, or the nation of her father.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> Against the third, that, in the only other passage where -he has to speak of a Phœnician woman, he uses a feminine -form, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνισσα</span>: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔσκε δὲ πατρὸς ἐμοῖο γυνὴ Φοίνισσ’ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ</span> -(Od. xv. 417). But <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιξ</span> is grammatically capable of the -feminine, as is shown by Herod. i. 193<a name="FNanchor_658_658" id="FNanchor_658_658"></a><a href="#Footnote_658_658" class="fnanchor">[658]</a>.</p> - -<p><i>e.</i> Also that Homer, in the few instances where he uses the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τηλεκλειτὸς</span>, confines it to men. He, however, gives the -epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρικυδὴς</span> to Latona.</p> - -<p>The arguments from the structure of the passage, and from -the uniform reticence of Homer respecting the foreign origin -of Greek personages, convince me that it is not on the whole -warrantable to interpret <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιξ</span> in this place in any other manner, -than as the name of the father of Minos.</p> - -<p>The name <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιξ</span>, however, taken in connection with the -period to which it applies—nearly three generations before -the <i>Troica</i>—still continues to supply of itself no trifling presumption -of the Phœnician origin of Minos.</p> - -<p>It cannot, I suppose, be doubted that the original meaning of -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιξ</span>, when first used as a proper name in Greece, probably was -‘of Phœnician birth, or origin.’ But, if we are to judge by the -testimony of Homer, the time, when Minos lived, was but very -shortly after the first Phœnician arrivals in Greece; and his -grandfather Phœnix, living four and a half generations before -the <i>Troica</i>, was in all likelihood contemporary with, or anterior -to, Cadmus. At a period when the intercourse of the two -countries was in its infancy, we may, I think, with some degree of -confidence construe this proper name as indicating the country -of origin.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Collateral evidence.</i></div> - -<p>The other marks connected with Minos and his history give -such support to this presumption as to bring the supposition -up to reasonable certainty. Such are,</p> - -<p>1. The connection with Dædalus.</p> - -<p>2. The tradition of the nautical power of Minos.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> - -<p>3. The characteristic epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὀλοόφρων</span>; as also its relation to -the other Homeric personages with whose name it is joined.</p> - -<p>4. The fact that Minos brought a more advanced form of -laws and polity among a people of lower social organization; -the proof thus given that he belonged to a superior race: the -probability that, if this race had been Hellenic, Homer would -have distinctly marked the connection of so distinguished a -person with the Hellenic stem: and the apparent certainty -that, if not Hellenic, it could only be Phœnician.</p> - -<p>The positive Homeric grounds for believing Minos to be -Phœnician are much stronger, than any that sustain the same -belief in the case of Cadmus: and the negative objection, that -Homer does not call him by the name of the country from -which he sprang, is in fact an indication of the Poet’s uniform -practice of drawing the curtain over history or legend, at the -point where a longer perspective would have the effect of -exhibiting any Greek hero as derived from a foreign source, -and thus of confuting that claim to autochthonism which, -though it is not much his way to proclaim such matters in the -abstract, yet appears to have operated with Homer as a practical -principle of considerable weight.</p> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">EXCURSUS II.<br /> - -<span class="smaller">ON THE LINE ODYSS. V. 277.</span></h2></div> - - -<p>I have the less scruple in making the verse Od. v. 277 the -subject of a particular inquiry, because the chief elements of -the discussion are important with reference to the laws of Homeric -Greek, as well as with regard to that adjustment of the -Outer Geography, which I have supported by a detailed application -to every part of the narrative of the Odyssey, and which -I at once admit is in irreconcilable conflict with the popular -construction of the account of the voyage from Ogygia to -Scheria, as far as it depends upon this particular verse.</p> - -<p>The passage is<a name="FNanchor_659_659" id="FNanchor_659_659"></a><a href="#Footnote_659_659" class="fnanchor">[659]</a> (the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὴν</span> referring to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἄρκτον</span> in v. 273)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τὴν γὰρ δή μιν ἄνωγε Καλυψὼ, δῖα θεάων,</div> - <div class="verse">ποντοπορευέμεναι ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς ἔχοντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The points upon which the signification of the last line must -depend, seem to be as follows:</p> - -<p>1. The meaning of the important Homeric word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερός</span>.</p> - -<p>2. The form of the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς</span>, which is an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἅπαξ -λεγόμενον</span> in Homer.</p> - -<p>3. The force of the preposition <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span>, particularly with the -accusative.</p> - -<p>The second of these points may be speedily dismissed. For -(1) the only question that can arise upon it would be, whether -(assuming for the moment the sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span>) ‘the left of his -hand’ means the left of the line described by the onward movement -of his body, or the left of the direction in which his hand, -that is, his right or steering hand, points while upon the helm; -which would be the exact reverse of the former. But, though -the latter interpretation would be grammatically accurate, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> -is too minute and subtle, as respects the sense, to agree with -Homer’s methods of expression. And (2) some of the Scholiasts -report another reading, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηὸς</span>, instead of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χειρὸς</span>, which would -present no point of doubt or suspicion under this head.</p> - -<p>We have then two questions to consider; of which the first -is the general use and treatment by Homer of the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερός</span>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Senses of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερός</span>.</i></div> - -<p>It appears to me well worth consideration whether the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> of Homer ought not, besides the senses of right -and left, to be acknowledged capable of the senses of east and -west respectively.</p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> takes the sense of <i>left</i> by way of derivation -and second intention only.</p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκαιὸς</span> is that, which etymologically and primarily -expresses the function of the left hand. The use of this as the -principal hand is abnormal, and places the body as it were -<i>askew</i> (compare <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκάζω</span>, <i>scævus</i>, <i>schief</i>)<a name="FNanchor_660_660" id="FNanchor_660_660"></a><a href="#Footnote_660_660" class="fnanchor">[660]</a>. In Homer the only -word used singly, i. e. without a substantive, to express the left -hand is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκαιός</span>. At the same time, we cannot draw positive -conclusions from this fact, because <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> could not stand in -the hexameter to represent a feminine noun singular, on account -of the laws of metre, which in this point are inflexible.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σκαιῇ</span> means the left hand in Il. i. 501. xvi. 734. xxi. 490. -This adjective is but once used in Homer except for the hand: -viz., in Od. iii. 295 we have <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκαιὸν ῥίον</span> for ‘the foreland on -the left.’ But <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Σκαιαὶ πύλαι</span> may have meant originally the left -hand gates of Troy.</p> - -<p>The application of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> to the right hand (from which we -may consider <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιτερὸς</span> as an adaptation for metrical purposes), -is to be sufficiently accounted for, because it was the hand by -which greetings were exchanged, and engagements contracted<a name="FNanchor_661_661" id="FNanchor_661_661"></a><a href="#Footnote_661_661" class="fnanchor">[661]</a>. -But it is not so with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερός</span>: and while we contemplate the -subject in regard only to the uses of the member, the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκαιὸς</span> remains perfectly unexceptionable, and even highly expressive -and convenient, in its function of expressing the left -hand.</p> - -<p>It appears that the Greek augurs, in estimating the signifi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>cation -of omens, were accustomed to stand with their faces -northwards; or rather, I presume, with their faces set towards -a point midway between sunset and sunrise. The most common -descriptions of omen in the time of Homer appear to have been -(1) the flight of birds, and (2) the apparition of thunder and -lightning. The test of a good moving omen was, that it should -proceed from the west, and move to the east; and of a bad -moving omen, that it should proceed from the east, and move to -the west. Possibly we may trace in this conception the cosmogonical -arrangement, which planted in the West the Elysian plain, -and in the East the dismal and semi-penal domain of Aidoneus -and Persephone. Possibly the brightness of the sun, which -caused the East to be regarded as the fountain of light, may be -the foundation of it: together, on the other hand, with that -close visible association between the West and darkness, which -the sunset of each day brought before the eyes of men; so that -to lie <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρὸς ζόφον</span> meant to lie towards the West, and was the -regular opposite of lying towards the sun<a name="FNanchor_662_662" id="FNanchor_662_662"></a><a href="#Footnote_662_662" class="fnanchor">[662]</a>.</p> - -<p>Whatever may have been the basis of the doctrine of the -augurs, there grew up an established association (1) between -the west and what was ill-omened or evil, and through this (2) -between what was ill-omened or evil and the left side of a man. -The west was unlucky, because the science of augury made it -so. The left hand was unlucky, because in the inspection of -omens it was western. One half of the objects in the world, -and of the actions of the human body, thus lay, from their -position relatively to omens, under an incubus of ill-fortune. -It was retrieved from this threatening condition, by an euphemism; -by the application of a word not merely innocent<a name="FNanchor_663_663" id="FNanchor_663_663"></a><a href="#Footnote_663_663" class="fnanchor">[663]</a>, -but preeminently good. Everything covered by the blight of -evil omen was to be, not only not harmful, but <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span>, better -than the best. Consequently it would appear that the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> probably meant westerly, before it could mean on the -left hand: because not the left hand only, but everything westerly, -was within the range of the evil to which it was intended -to apply a remedy.</p> - -<p>In a passage like Il. vii. 238, the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> -is, plainly, right and left. But what is it in the speech -of Hector, where he tells Polydamas that he cares not for -omens<a name="FNanchor_664_664" id="FNanchor_664_664"></a><a href="#Footnote_664_664" class="fnanchor">[664]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">εἴτ’ ἐπὶ δεξί’ ἴωσι πρὸς Ἠῶ τ’ Ἠέλιόν τε,</div> - <div class="verse">εἴτ’ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ τοίγε ποτὶ ζόφον ἠερόεντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the first place, it is a more appropriate, because more direct, -method of description with respect to birds of omen to say, -they fly eastward or westward, than that they fly to the right -or the left hand: since the sense of right and left has no determinate -standard of reference, but requires the aid of an assumption -that the person is actually looking to the north, so -that the words may thus become equivalent to east and west. -But in this case, which is one of warriors on the battle-field, -would there not be something rather incongruous in interpolating -the suggestion of their turning northwards as they spoke, -in order to give the proper meaning to these two words? We -must surely conceive of Hector standing on the battle-field -with his face towards the enemy, if we are to take his posture -into view at all. If he stood thus, he would look, as far as we -can judge, to the west of north. Now the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ζόφος</span> was the north-west -with Homer, and not the west: and, conversely, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span> -inclined to the south of east. In this way he would nearly -have his face to the former, and his back to the latter; and if -so the meaning of right and left would be not only farfetched, -but wholly improper, while the meaning of east and west would -be no less correct than natural.</p> - -<p>I must add, that there are other places in Homer where -difficulty arises, if we are only permitted to construe <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> by right and left. I will even venture to say, that -there are passages in the Thirteenth Book which render the -topography of the battle that it describes, not only obscure, -but even contradictory, if <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> in them means <i>left</i>; and -which become perfectly harmonious if we allowed to understand -it as signifying <i>west</i>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Illustrated from Il.</i> xiii.</div> - -<p>These are respectively Il. xiii. 675 and 765.</p> - -<p>In order to apprehend the case, it will be necessary to follow -closely the movement of the battle through most of the Book.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p> -<p>1. Il. xiii. 126-9: The Ajaxes are opposed to Hector, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηυσὶν -ἐν μέσσῃσιν</span>, 312, 16.</p> - -<p>2. The centre being thus provided for, Idomeneus proceeds -to the left, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στρατοῦ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> (326), which is the station of -Deiphobus; and makes havock in this quarter.</p> - -<p>3. Deiphobus, instead of fighting Idomeneus, thinks it prudent -to fetch Æneas, who is standing aloof, 458 and seqq.</p> - -<p>4. Summoned by Deiphobus, Æneas comes with him, attended -also by Paris and Agenor, 490.</p> - -<p>5. They conjointly carry on the fight at that point, with indifferent -success (495-673), but no decisive issue.</p> - -<p>6. Hector, in the centre, remains ignorant that the Trojans -were being worsted <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηῶν ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> by the Greeks, 675.</p> - -<p>7. By the advice of Polydamas he goes in search of other -chiefs to consider what is to be done; of Paris among the rest, -whom he finds, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάχης ἐπ’ ἀριστερά</span> (765). With them he returns -to the centre, 753, 802, 809.</p> - -<p>Now the following propositions are, I think, sound:</p> - -<p>1. When Homer thus speaks of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> in Il. xiii. 326, -675, and 765, respectively, he evidently means to describe in -all of them the same side of the battle-field. Where Idomeneus -is, in 329, thither he brings Æneas in 469, who is attended at -the time by Paris, 490; and there Paris evidently remains -until summoned to the centre in 765.</p> - -<p>2. If Homer speaks with reference to any particular combatant, -of his being on the left or the right of the battle, he -ought to mean the Greek left or right if the person be Greek, -and the Trojan left or right if the person be Trojan.</p> - -<p>3. This is actually the rule by which he proceeds elsewhere. -For in the Fifth Book, when Mars is in the field on the Trojan -side, he says, Minerva found him <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάχης ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, Il. v. 355. -What is the point thus described, and how came he there? -The answer is supplied by an earlier part of the same Book. -In v. 35, Minerva led him out of the battle. In v. 36, she -placed him by the shore of the Scamander; that is to say, on -the Trojan left, and in a position to which, he being a Trojan -combatant, the Poet gives the name of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάχης ἐπ’ ἀριστερά</span>.</p> - -<p>Now <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> is commonly interpreted ‘on the left.’ But -if it means on the left in Il. xiii., then the passages are contra<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>dictory: -because this would place Paris on both wings, whereas -he obviously is described as on the same wing of the battle -throughout.</p> - -<p>But if we construe <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> as meaning the west in all the -three passages, then we have the same meaning at once made -available for all the three places, so that the account becomes -self-consistent again; and if the meaning be ‘on the west,’ -then we may understand that Idomeneus most naturally betakes -himself to the west, because that was the quarter of the -Myrmidons, where the Greek line was deprived of support. -If, however, it be said, that the Greek left is meant throughout, -then the expression in v. 765 is both contrary to what -would seem reasonable, and at variance with Homer’s own -precedent in the Fifth Book.</p> - -<p>Thus there is considerable reason to suppose that, in Homer, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς</span> may sometimes mean ‘west.’ So that <i>if</i> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> in Od. v. -277 really means ‘upon,’ the phrase will signify, that Ulysses -was to have Arctus on the west side of him, which would place -Ogygia in the required position to the east of north.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The force of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> in Homer.</i></div> - -<p>The point remaining for discussion is at once the most difficult -and the most important. What <i>is</i> the true force of the -Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπί</span>?</p> - -<p>I find the senses of this preposition clearly and comprehensively -treated in Jelf’s Greek Grammar, where the leading -points of its various significations are laid down as follows<a name="FNanchor_665_665" id="FNanchor_665_665"></a><a href="#Footnote_665_665" class="fnanchor">[665]</a>:</p> - -<p>1. Its original force is <i>upon</i>, or <i>on</i>.</p> - -<p>2. It is applied to place, time, or causation. Of these three, -when treating of a geographical question, we need only consider -the first with any minuteness.</p> - -<p>3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἐπὶ</span>, when used locally, means with the genitive (<i>a</i>) <i>on</i> -or <i>at</i>, and (<i>b</i>) motion <i>towards</i> a place or thing. With the -dative (<i>a</i>) <i>on</i> or <i>at</i>, and (<i>b</i>) <i>by</i> or <i>near</i>. With the accusative -(<i>a</i>) <i>towards</i>, and (<i>b</i>) ‘extension in space over an object, as well -with verbs of rest as of motion.’ Of this sense examples are -quoted in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πλεῖν ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον</span> for verbs of motion, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ -ἐννέα κεῖτο πέλεθρα</span> for verbs of rest. Both are from Homer, in -Il. vii. 83, and Od. xi. 577.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span></p> -<p>The Homeric <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> are also quoted as -examples of this last-named sense. But in Od. v. 277, if the -meaning be <i>on</i> the left, it is plainly quite beyond these definitions: -for so far from being an object extended over space, the -star is, as it appears on the left, a luminous point, and nothing -more. It was an extension over space, such as the eye has from -a window over a prospect; but then that space is the space -which lies over-against the star; so that if the space be on the -left, the star must be looking towards the left indeed, but for -that very reason set on the right. The difference here is most -important in connection with the sense of the preposition. If -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> means <i>on</i> the left, it is only on a single point of -the left; if it means towards or over-against the right, it -means towards or over-against the whole right. Now, the -former of these senses is, I contend, utterly out of keeping -with the whole Homeric use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> as a preposition governing -the accusative: while the latter is quite in keeping with it.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Force of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερά.</span></i></div> - -<p>The idea of motion, physical or metaphysical, in some one -or other of its modifications, appears to inhere essentially in -the Homeric use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with the accusative. In the great majority -of instances, it is used with a verb of motion, which places -the matter beyond all doubt. In almost all other instances, -either the motion of a body, or some covering of space where -there is no motion, are obviously involved. Thus the Zephyr -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κελάδει</span><a name="FNanchor_666_666" id="FNanchor_666_666"></a><a href="#Footnote_666_666" class="fnanchor">[666]</a>) whistles <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ οἴνοπα πόντον</span>. A hero, or a bevy of -maidens, may shout <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ μακρόν</span><a name="FNanchor_667_667" id="FNanchor_667_667"></a><a href="#Footnote_667_667" class="fnanchor">[667]</a>. The rim of a basket is -covered with a plating of gold, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χρυσῷ δ’ ἐπὶ χείλεα κεκράαντο</span>: -that is, the gold is drawn over it<a name="FNanchor_668_668" id="FNanchor_668_668"></a><a href="#Footnote_668_668" class="fnanchor">[668]</a>. Achilles looks<a name="FNanchor_669_669" id="FNanchor_669_669"></a><a href="#Footnote_669_669" class="fnanchor">[669]</a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ οἴνοπα -πόντον</span>. The sun appears to mortals <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν</span><a name="FNanchor_670_670" id="FNanchor_670_670"></a><a href="#Footnote_670_670" class="fnanchor">[670]</a>. -Here we should apparently understand ‘spread,’ or some equivalent -word. We have ‘animals as many as are born’ <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ -γαῖαν</span><a name="FNanchor_671_671" id="FNanchor_671_671"></a><a href="#Footnote_671_671" class="fnanchor">[671]</a>. Or, again, we have ‘may his glory be’ (spread) <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ -ζείδωρον ἄρουραν</span><a name="FNanchor_672_672" id="FNanchor_672_672"></a><a href="#Footnote_672_672" class="fnanchor">[672]</a>. Again: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δηρὸν δέ μοι αἰὼν ἔσσεται</span> is, ‘I -shall live long<a name="FNanchor_673_673" id="FNanchor_673_673"></a><a href="#Footnote_673_673" class="fnanchor">[673]</a>.’ And Achilles seated himself <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θῖν’ ἐφ’ ἁλὸς -πολιῆς</span><a name="FNanchor_674_674" id="FNanchor_674_674"></a><a href="#Footnote_674_674" class="fnanchor">[674]</a>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> A dragon with a purple back is<a name="FNanchor_675_675" id="FNanchor_675_675"></a><a href="#Footnote_675_675" class="fnanchor">[675]</a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ νῶτα δάφοινος</span>. -The shoulders of Thersites, compressed against his chest, are, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ στῆθος συνοχωκότε</span><a name="FNanchor_676_676" id="FNanchor_676_676"></a><a href="#Footnote_676_676" class="fnanchor">[676]</a>. The horses of Admetus stand even with -the rod across their backs<a name="FNanchor_677_677" id="FNanchor_677_677"></a><a href="#Footnote_677_677" class="fnanchor">[677]</a>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σταφύλῃ ἐπὶ νῶτον ἐΐσας</span>. I have -not confined these examples to merely local cases, because a more -varied illustration, I think, here enlarges our means of judgment. -In every case, it appears, we may assert that extension, -whether in time or space, is implied; and the proper word to construe -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> (except with certain verbs of motion, as, ‘he fell on,’ -and the like) will be over, along, across, or over-against. -Further, we have in Il. vi. 400, according to one reading, the -preposition <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> combined with the verb <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔχειν</span>, and governing the -accusative. Andromache appears,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">παῖδ’ ἐπὶ κόλπον ἔχουσ’ ἀταλάφρονα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The recent editions read <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κόλπῳ</span>: I suppose because the accusative -cannot properly give the meaning <i>upon</i> her breast. But -we do not require that meaning. The sense seems to be, that -Andromache was holding her infant <i>against</i> her breast; that -is, the infant was held to it by her hands from the opposite -side. The idea of an infant <i>on</i> her breast is quite unsuited to -a figure declared to be in motion. But the sense may also be, -stretched over or across her breast. Thus we always have extension -involved in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with the accusative, whether in range of -view or sound, steps of a gradual process, actual motion, pressure -towards a point which is initial motion, or extension over -space. But the Homeric use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with the accusative will -nowhere, I think, be found applicable to the inactive, motionless -position of a luminous point simply as perceived in space. -And if so, it cannot be allowable to construe <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς -ἔχων</span>, having (Arctus) <i>on</i> his left hand.</p> - -<p>The nearest parallel that I have found to the phrase in Od. -v. 277, is the direction given by Idomeneus to Meriones, who -had asked him (Il. xiii. 307) at what point he would like to enter -the line of battle. Idomeneus, after giving his reasons, concludes -with this injunction:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">νῶϊν δ’ ὧδ’ ἐπ’ ἀριστέρ’ ἔχε στρατοῦ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the Odyssey, the order is to keep Arctus <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρός</span>. -Here it is to keep Idomeneus (and Meriones himself, who preceded -him), <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ στρατοῦ</span>. The parallel is not complete, -because in the latter case the object of the verb moves; in the -former it does not move. Let us, however, consider the meaning -of the latter passage, which is indisputable. It is ‘hold or -keep us,’ not on the left, but ‘towards, looking and moving -towards, the left of the army.’ Probably then they were -coming from its right. Therefore, if for the moment we waive -the question of motion, the order of Calypso was to keep -Arctus looking towards the left of the ship: and accordingly -Arctus was to look from its right.</p> - -<p>We must, I apprehend, seek the key to the general meaning -of this phrase from considering that idea of motion involved in -the ordinary manifestation of omens, which appears to be the -basis of the phrase itself. Now, it seems to be the essential and -very peculiar characteristic of this phrase in Homer, and of the -sister phrases <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπιδέξια</span> (whether written in one word or in two) -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span>, that they very commonly imply a position different -from that which they seem at first sight to suggest. For that -which goes towards the left is naturally understood to go from -the right, and <i>vice versâ</i>.</p> - -<p>‘To’ and not ‘on’ is the essential characteristic of the Homeric -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> with the accusative. Accordingly, where <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> is so used -with the words <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὰ</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὰ</span>, we may often understand an -original position of the person or thing intended, generally opposite -to the point or quarter expressed. In such a case as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὗρεν -... μάχης ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> we should join <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> with the -subject of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὗρεν</span>, and not with its object. Not A found B on -the left, but A (coming) towards the left found B (there). -Again, in Il. xiii. 675, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νηῶν ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> should, I submit, be -construed <i>towards</i> the left, or in the direction of the -left.</p> - -<p>Now, while there is not a single passage in Homer that -refuses to bear a construction founded on these principles, -an examination of a variety of passages will, I believe, supply -us with instances to show, that there is no other consistent -mode of rendering the phrases <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀστράπτειν ἐπιδέξια</span>; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργειν -ἐπ’ ἀριστερά</span>; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἰνοχόειν</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰτεῖν</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεικνύναι, ἐνδέξια</span>; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς ὄρνις</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸν ἐρώδιον</span>, and others.</p> - -<p>And although in some of these phrases the idea of motion is -actually included, while the motion of omens was the original -groundwork of them all, yet, as frequently happens, the effect -remains when the cause has disappeared. A bird called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span> -is one moving <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιά</span>; and this, according to the law of -omens, is <i>usually</i> a bird from the left moving towards the right. -And thus, by analogy, a star <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> is a star on the right -not moving but looking towards the left. Once more, when -we recollect that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> habitually or very frequently -means on the right as well as moving towards the left, it is not -difficult to conceive so easy and simple a modification of this -sense as brings it to being on the right, while also looking, instead -of moving, towards the left. Lightning, which had appeared -on the right, would I apprehend be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀστραπὴ ἐπ’ ἀριστερά</span>: -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀρκτὸς ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> would be ‘Arctus on the right;’ and the introduction -of the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔχειν</span> cannot surely reverse the signification.</p> - -<p>In later Greek, the expressions <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπιδέξια</span>, with -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπαριστερὰ</span>, which seems to be the counterpart of both, the -preposition <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ</span> sometimes being divided from and sometimes -united with its case, appear to be equivalent to our English -phrases ‘on the right,’ and ‘on the left.’ But not so in Homer.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Illustrated from Il.</i> ii. 353. <i>Od.</i> xxi. 141.</div> - -<p>Let us now examine various places of the poems, where <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span> (single or combined) cannot mean on the -right, but may be rendered either (1) from the left, or (2) towards -the right. Thus we have, Il. ii. 353,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἀστράπτων ἐπιδέξι’, ἐναίσιμα σήματα φαίνων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This means lightning on and from the left, so that the -lightning passes, or seems to pass, towards the right. The -analogy of this case to that of the star is very close; because -it is rarely that lightning gives the semblance of motion: -and this expression precisely exemplifies the observation, that -these phrases often really imply a position of the subject exactly -opposite to that which at first sight would be supposed.</p> - -<p>Again, when Antinous bids the Suitors rise in turn for the -trial of the bow, he says, Od. xxi. 141,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὄρνυσθ’ ἑξείης ἐπιδέξια, πάντες ἑταῖροι·</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span></p> -<p>and he goes to explain himself beyond dispute, by referring -to the order observed by the cupbearer at the feast;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρξάμενοι τοῦ χώρου, ὅθεν τέ περ οἰνοχοεύει</span>. (142)</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His meaning evidently is, Rise up, beginning on or from the left.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>From Il.</i> i. 597. vii. 238. xii. 239, 249.</div> - -<p>The practice of the cupbearer is stated with respect to -Vulcan, Il. i. 597:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτὰρ ὁ τοῖς ἄλλοισι θεοῖς ἐνδέξια πᾶσιν</div> - <div class="verse">ᾠνοχόει.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κήρυξ</span> (Il. vii. 183) goes round <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span> with the lots -for the chieftains to draw. The beggar<a name="FNanchor_678_678" id="FNanchor_678_678"></a><a href="#Footnote_678_678" class="fnanchor">[678]</a> in making his round -follows the supreme law of luck, and goes <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span>. And -as this meaning seems to be established, we must give the -same sense, in Il. ix. 236, to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια σήματα φαίνων ἀστράπτει</span>, -as to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span> in Il. ii. 353, namely, that Jupiter displayed -celestial signs on the left.</p> - -<p>Again, Hector boasts of his proficiency in moving his shield -so as to cover his person, Il. vii. 238,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἶδ’ ἐπὶ δεξιὰ, οἶδ’ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ νωμῆσαι βῶν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We should translate this probably without much thought ‘to -the right and to the left.’ But when we consider what sense -is required by the idea to be conveyed, it is evident that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ -δεξιὰ</span> means, from the left side of his person towards the right, -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> from the right side of his person towards -the left. That is to say, the first position before and during -the motion, in each case, is at the side opposite to that indicated -by the adjectives respectively.</p> - -<p>Again, in a well known passage (Il. xii. 239.) Hector tells -Polydamas that he cares not for omens, be they good or bad;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">εἴτ’ ἐπὶ δεξί’ ἴωσι πρὸς Ἠῶ τ’ Ἠέλιόν τε,</div> - <div class="verse">εἴτ’ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ τοίγε, ποτὶ ζόφον ἠερόεντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Apart from the question, whether the sense of right and left is -suitable to this passage at all, and assuming it to be so, the -meaning is <i>from the left</i> for <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span> and <i>from the right</i> for -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, on their way in each case to the opposite quarter.</p> - -<p>Again, the portent which had drawn forth the observation of -Hector was, (Il. xii. 219,)</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span></p> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰετὸς ὑψιπέτης, ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ λαὸν ἐέργων</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>namely, an eagle appearing on the right and then moving -towards the left. Now <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργω</span> is not properly a verb of -motion; and yet we see that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργειν ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> means to -close the army in from the right; that is to say, the eagle, -which does the act <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, is itself on the right.</p> - -<p>There were in fact three things, which originally might, -and commonly would, be included in each of these phrases. -For example, in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>,</p> - -<p> -1. Appearance at a particular point on the right;<br /> -2. Motion from that point towards the left;<br /> -3. Rest at another point on the left.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Of these the second named indicates the first and principal -intention of the word; but when it passes to a second intention -or derivative sense, it may include either the first point, or the -third, or both. In the later Greek it appears rather to -indicate the point of rest; but in the Homeric phrases of the -corresponding word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἰνοχοεῖν ἐνδέξια</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεικνύναι ἐνδέξια</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰτεῖν ἐνδέξια</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀστραπτεῖν ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐέργειν ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, the -starting-point, and not the resting-point, is the one brought into -view. It is the commencement of the motion, in every one of -these cases, which is indicated by the phrase, and not its close.</p> - -<p>Being engaged upon this subject, I shall not scruple to -examine one or two remaining passages, which may assist in its -more thorough elucidation.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>From Il.</i> xxiii. 335-7.</div> - -<p>I therefore ask particular attention to the passage in the -Twenty-third Book of the Iliad, where Nestor instructs his son -concerning his management in the chariot-race. On either -side of a dry trunk upon the plain, there lay two white stones -(xxiii. 329). They formed the goal, round which the chariots -were to be driven, the charioteer keeping them on his left -hand. The pith of the advice of Nestor is, that his son is to -make a short and close turn round them, so as to have a chance -of winning, in spite of the slowness of his team. The directions -are (335-7):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτὸς δὲ κλινθῆναι ἐϋπλέκτῳ ἐνὶ δίφρῳ</div> - <div class="verse">ἦκ’ ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ τοῖϊν· ἀτὰρ τὸν δεξιὸν ἵππον</div> - <div class="verse">κένσαι ὁμοκλήσας, εἶξαί τέ οἱ ἡνία χερσίν.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p> -<p>It is clear from the last line and a half that the goal was to be -on his left hand. But what is the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κλινθῆναι ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ -τοῖϊν</span>? Nothing can be more scientific than the precept. -The horses are to make a sharp turn: the impetus in the -driver’s body might throw him forward if he were not prepared: -he is to do what every rider in a circus now does, to -lean inwards; and that is expressed by leaning <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, of -the goal—for <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῖϊν</span> must, I apprehend, be understood to agree -with the dual <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λᾶε</span> (329), and not the plural <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἵππους</span> (334); -particularly because the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἵππος</span> is repeated immediately -after it. The meaning then is, that he is desired to lean to the -left of the goal, while all the time he keeps on its right. We -should under the same circumstances say, ‘Lean gently towards -the right side of the goal, as you are about to turn round it.’ -He, meaning the same thing, says, ‘Lean towards the left; that -is, lean <i>from the right</i>, or while keeping on the right, of the -object named. Now this I take to be exactly the sense of Od. -v. 277. Ulysses was bid to sail, having the Great Bear placed -on his right, but looking from his right, and towards his left, -as every star looks towards the quarter opposite to that in -which it is itself seen. He is to have the star <i>e dextrâ</i>, because -from that point it looks <i>ad sinistram</i>. It looks across him -towards his left, just as Antilochus was to lean in the direction -across the goal towards its left.</p> - -<p>The whole of this interpretation without doubt depends upon -the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῖϊν</span>; and I do not presume to say that it is necessarily, -under grammatical rules, to be understood of the goal, -and not of the horses. But it is the more natural construction: -and Homer often reverts merely by this demonstrative pronoun, -without further indication, to a subject which he has only -named some time back<a name="FNanchor_679_679" id="FNanchor_679_679"></a><a href="#Footnote_679_679" class="fnanchor">[679]</a>.</p> - -<p>But if grammar leave that question in any degree open, I -apprehend that physical considerations must decide it. It is -impossible for the driver to lean to the left of his horses as -they are rounding the goal. To the left of his chariot he -may lean, as he stands upon it: but to their left he cannot,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> -for they are considerably in advance of him; and in order to -make the turn at all, they must, at each point of the curve, -which is a curve to the left, be much further along the curve, -and consequently much further to the left, than he can possibly -be. It would be a parallel case, if there were two riders round -a circus, one following the other, and the rider of the after -horse were told to lean to the right of the fore horse. Therefore -the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῖϊν</span> can, I submit, only refer to the two stones, -which form the goal.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>From Il.</i> ii. 526.</div> - -<p>A line in the Greek Catalogue will enable us to carry the -question still further. In Il. ii. 517, after the two Bœotian -contingents, come the Phocians: and the Poet says, ver. 526,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Βοιωτῶν δ’ ἔμπλην ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ θωρήσσοντο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I see that this is translated even by Voss ‘on the left.’ Now -is not this contrary to all likelihood? Was not all propitious -movement with Homer from left to right? Has not this been -proved by the cases of the Immortals, the Omens, the Cupbearer, -the Beggar, and the Herald? Is it likely, or is it even -conceivable, that Homer should depart from this principle in -his order of the army? Surely the meaning is this: Having -fixed for himself geographically the order of his contingents, -he has likewise to state their order of array upon the field; -and accordingly by this line he informs us, that the Phocians, -who were the second of the races he mentions, stood <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> -of the Bœotians: he of course means us to understand -that the Abantes, the third race, were <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> of the Locrians, -and so on through the whole: or in other words, that -he informs us he does not forget to follow, amidst the multitudinous -detail of the Catalogue, the established, the religious, -and the propitious order of enumeration, namely, the order -which begins from the left, and moves towards the right.</p> - -<p>Thus we must in this place translate <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> ‘towards, -that is, looking towards the left of the Bœotians;’ or ‘looking -to the Bœotians on their left,’ i. e. of the Phocians; the Phocians -being, whichever construction we adopt, on the right, actually -on the right, not the left of the Bœotians. The real force of -the expression probably is this: that the Bœotians, having -taken their ground, the Phocians came up and took theirs next -to them on their right.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Application to Od.</i> v. 277.</div> - -<p>Now this case is precisely in point for Od. v. 277: because -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θωρήσσεσθαι</span> is not properly a verb of motion: and in all likelihood -it may be relied on independently of further details from -Homer, because it brings the matter to an easy test, through -the certainty which we may well entertain, that Homer would -have the order of his army begin from left to right, like every -other duly and auspiciously constituted order.</p> - -<p>There is, however, another interpretation proposed as follows: -they, the Phocians, took ground next (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔμπλην</span>) to the -Bœotians on the left, i. e. of the army; the two together, as it -were, forming its left wing. To this construction there seem -to be conclusive objections:</p> - -<p>1. Why should Homer tell us that the Bœotians and Phocians -together constituted a division of the army, when he tells -us nothing similar respecting any of the twenty-six contingents -that remain? Neither of these races were particularly distinguished -either politically or in arms.</p> - -<p>2. It appears clear that the Bœotians and Phocians did not -together form a division of the army: for, in the Thirteenth -Book, the Bœotians fight in company with the Athenians or -Ionians, the Locrians, Phthians, and Epeans, but not with the -Phocians. Il. xiii. 685, 6.</p> - -<p>3. Neither did the Bœotians belong to the left wing of the -army at all: for they are found defending the centre of the -ships against Hector and the Trojans, with the two Ajaxes in -their front. Il. xiii. 314-16, 674-84, 685, 700; 701, 2; 719, 20.</p> - -<p>4. There is nowhere the smallest sign, that the Greek army -was divided into wings and centre at all.</p> - -<p>5. The order of the Catalogue is a geographical order, and -not that of a military arrangement. Therefore it was requisite -for Homer to tell us how the troops were arranged in the Review. -This he has effected by telling us that the Phocians, the -second of his tribes, drew up on the right of the Bœotians: -which we have only to consider tacitly repeated all through, and -the order is thus both complete and propitious. But, according to -the other construction, the Poet begins with an arrangement by -wings, of which we hear nowhere else: and then he forthwith -forgets and abandons it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p> - -<p>6. I do not think <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> can be construed to the left of -the army. The army has nowhere been named. The phrases -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> require us to have a subject clearly in -view. It is frequently named, as in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ μάχης</span>. When -it is connected with omens, it means to the west, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπιδέξια</span> -the reverse. Again, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἰνοχοεῖν ἐπιδέξια</span> is to begin pouring wine -from the left, and towards the right end of the rank whom the -cupbearer may be serving. The ‘army’ has not been mentioned -since the reassembling in v. 207.</p> - -<p>These objections appear to me fatal to the construction now -under our view. They do not indeed touch the question -whether <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> should be interpreted on the left, or (on -the right and) towards the left. That must, I think, be decided -by the general principles of augury duly applied to order and -enumeration.</p> - -<p>On the whole, then, I contend that it is wrong to construe -Od. v. 277, ‘to sail with Arctus <i>on</i> his left hand.’ It would be -much more nearly right, and would, in fact, convey the -meaning, though not in a grammatical manner, if we construed -it ‘to sail with Arctus on his right hand.’ But the manner of -construing it, grammatically and accurately, as I submit, is this: -‘to sail with Arctus looking towards the left (of his hand, or -his left hand);’ that is to say, looking <i>from his right</i>. And -generally, that the proper mode of construing <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπὶ δεξιὰ</span> in Homer is, <i>towards</i> the left, <i>towards</i> the right; or, -conversely, <i>from</i> the right, <i>from</i> the left.</p> - -<p>This meaning is in exact accordance with the North-eastern, -and is entirely opposed to the North-western, hypothesis. And -I venture to believe that, itself established by sufficient evidence -from other passages in the poems, it enables us to give a -meaning substantially, though perhaps not minutely self-consistent, -though of course one not based upon the true configuration -of the earth’s surface as it is now ascertained, to every -passage in Homer which relates to the Outer Geography of the -Odyssey.</p> - -<p>Both <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς</span> are used repeatedly -in the Hymn to Mercury<a name="FNanchor_680_680" id="FNanchor_680_680"></a><a href="#Footnote_680_680" class="fnanchor">[680]</a>. One of the passages resembles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> -in its form that of the eagle, Il. xii. 219. It is this:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">κεῖτο, χέλυν ἐρατὴν ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ χειρὸς ἐέργων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And probably the basis of the idea is the same. The really -correct Greek expression for ‘on the left hand’ I take to be -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χειρὸς ἐξ ἀριστερᾶς</span>, which is used by Euripides<a name="FNanchor_681_681" id="FNanchor_681_681"></a><a href="#Footnote_681_681" class="fnanchor">[681]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Sense altered in later Greek.</i></div> - -<p>But in the later Greek the idea of the point of arrival prevailed -over that of the point of departure: and, conventionally -at least, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπιδέξια</span>, with its equivalent <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐνδέξια</span>, came to mean -simply ‘on the right,’ and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπ’ ἀριστερὰ</span>, ‘on the left.’ It is -worth notice, that we have a like ambiguous use in English of -the word <i>towards</i>. Sometimes towards the left means being -on the left: sometimes it means moving from the right in the -direction of the left: and a room ‘towards the south’ means -one with its windows on the north, looking out over the south, -like as the star Arctus looks out towards the left of Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_682_682" id="FNanchor_682_682"></a><a href="#Footnote_682_682" class="fnanchor">[682]</a>.</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span></p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak">IV. AOIDOS.</h2> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Sect. I.</span><br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>On the Plot of the Iliad.</i></span></h3></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Theory of Grote on the Iliad.</i></div> - -<p>Although the hope has already been expressed at -the commencement of this work, that for England at -least, the main questions as to the Homeric poems have -well nigh been settled in the affirmative sense; yet I -must not pass by without notice the recently propounded -theory of Grote. I refer to it, partly on account -of the general authority of his work; for this -authority may give a currency greater than is really -due to a portion of it, which, as lying outside the domain -of history proper, has perhaps been less maturely considered -than his conclusions in general. But it is partly -also because I do not know that it has yet been treated -of elsewhere; and most of all because the discussion -takes a positive form; for the answer to his argument, -which perhaps may be found to render itself into a -gratuitous hypothesis, depends entirely upon a comprehensive -view of the general structure of the poem, and -the reciprocal relation and adaptation of its parts.</p> - -<p>Grote believes, that the poem called the Iliad is -divisible into two great portions: one of them he conceives -to be an Achilleis, or a poem having for its subject -the wrath of Achilles, which comprises the First Book, -the Eighth, and all from the Eleventh to the Twenty-second -Books inclusive; that the Books from the Second -to the Seventh inclusive, with the Ninth and Tenth, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> -the two last Books, are portions of what may be called -an Ilias, or general description of the War of Troy, which -have been introduced into the original Achilleis, most -probably by another hand; or, if by the original Poet, -yet to the destruction, or great detriment, of the poetic -unity of his work.</p> - -<p>In support of this doctrine he urges,</p> - -<p>1. That the Books from the Second to the Seventh -inclusive in no way contribute to the main action, and -are ‘brought out in a spirit altogether indifferent to -Achilles and his anger<a name="FNanchor_683_683" id="FNanchor_683_683"></a><a href="#Footnote_683_683" class="fnanchor">[683]</a>.’</p> - -<p>2. That the Ninth Book, containing a full accomplishment -of the wishes of Achilles in the First, by -‘atonement and restitution<a name="FNanchor_684_684" id="FNanchor_684_684"></a><a href="#Footnote_684_684" class="fnanchor">[684]</a>,’ is really the termination -of the whole poem, and renders the continuance of his -Wrath absurd: therefore, and also from the language -of particular passages, it is plain that ‘the Books from -the Eleventh downwards are composed by a Poet, who -has no knowledge of that Ninth Book, (or, as I presume -he would add, who takes no cognizance of it<a name="FNanchor_685_685" id="FNanchor_685_685"></a><a href="#Footnote_685_685" class="fnanchor">[685]</a>.’)</p> - -<p>3. The Jupiter of the Fourth Book is inconsistent -with the Jupiter of the First and Eighth.</p> - -<p>4. The abject prostration of Agamemnon in the -Ninth Book is inconsistent with his spirit and gallantry -in the Eleventh.</p> - -<p>5. The junction of these Books to the First Book is -bad; as the Dream of Agamemnon ‘produces no effect,’ -and the Greeks are victorious, not defeated<a name="FNanchor_686_686" id="FNanchor_686_686"></a><a href="#Footnote_686_686" class="fnanchor">[686]</a>.</p> - -<p>6. For the latter of these reasons, the construction -of the wall and fosse round the camp landwards is out -of place.</p> - -<p>7. The tenth Book, though it refers sufficiently to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> -what precedes, has no bearing on what follows in the -poem.</p> - -<p>Grote has argued conclusively against the supposition -that we owe the continuous Iliad<a name="FNanchor_687_687" id="FNanchor_687_687"></a><a href="#Footnote_687_687" class="fnanchor">[687]</a> to the labours -of Pisistratus, and shows that it must have been -known in its continuity long before. He places the -poems between 850 and 776 B. C.<a name="FNanchor_688_688" id="FNanchor_688_688"></a><a href="#Footnote_688_688" class="fnanchor">[688]</a>; admits the splendour -of much of the poetry which he thus tears from -its context<a name="FNanchor_689_689" id="FNanchor_689_689"></a><a href="#Footnote_689_689" class="fnanchor">[689]</a>; yet he apparently is not startled by the -supposition, that the man, or the men, capable of composing -poetry of the superlative kind that makes up -his Achilleis, should be so blind to the primary exigencies -of such a work for its effect as a whole, that he -or they could also be capable of thus spoiling its unity by -adding eight books, which do not belong to the subject, -to fifteen others in which it was already completely -handled and disposed of. And though our historian -leans to the belief of a plurality of authors for the -Iliad, he does not absolutely reject the supposition that -it may be the work of one<a name="FNanchor_690_690" id="FNanchor_690_690"></a><a href="#Footnote_690_690" class="fnanchor">[690]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Offer of Il.</i> ix. <i>and its rejection</i>.</div> - -<p>As to the Ninth Book<a name="FNanchor_691_691" id="FNanchor_691_691"></a><a href="#Footnote_691_691" class="fnanchor">[691]</a>, he refers it more decisively -to a separate hand; and he makes no difficulty about -presuming that the Homerids could furnish men capable -of composing (for example) the wonderful speech of -Achilles from the 307th to the 429th line. Happy -Homerids! and <i>felix prole virûm</i>, happy land that could -produce them!</p> - -<p>It appears to me that these are wild suppositions. -Against no supposition can there be stronger presumptions -than against those which, by dissevering the prime -parts of the poem, produce a multiplication of Homers; -and however Grote may himself think that enlarge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>ments -such as he describes, do not imply of necessity -at least a double authorship, few indeed, I apprehend, -will be found, while admitting his criticisms on the -poem, to contend that it can still be the production of a -single mind. Still less can I think that any one would -now be satisfied with the sequence of Books proposed, or -with the mutilated proportions, any more than with the -reduced dimensions, of the work as a whole.</p> - -<p>I will say not that the propounder of such a theory, -but that such a propounder of any theory, is well entitled -to have the question discussed, whether those -proportions are indeed mutilated by the change, or -whether they are, on the contrary, restored. Let me -observe, however, at the outset, that it is the general -argument with which only I shall be careful to deal. -I do not admit the discrepancies<a name="FNanchor_692_692" id="FNanchor_692_692"></a><a href="#Footnote_692_692" class="fnanchor">[692]</a> alleged; but neither -is it requisite to examine each case in detail, since -Grote concedes, that his own theory does not relieve -him from conflict with particular passages of the poem.</p> - -<p>As respects the Ninth Book, this theory seems to -proceed on a misconception of the nature of the offence -taken by Achilles; as respects the others, upon a -similar misconception of the measure which the Poet -intends us to take of his hero’s greatness, and of the -modes by which he means us to arrive at our estimate.</p> - -<p>It takes time to sound the depths of Homer. Possibly, -or even probably, many may share the idea that what -Achilles resents is the mere loss of a captive woman, -and that restitution would at once undo the wrong. -But they misconceive the act, and the man also, to whom -the wrong was done. The soul of Achilles is stirred -from its depths by an outrage, which seems to him to -comprehend all vices within itself. He is wounded in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span> -an attachment that had become a tender one; for -he gives to Briseis the name of wife (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλοχον θυμάρεα</span>), -and avows his care and protection of her in that -character. A proud and sensitive warrior, he is<a name="FNanchor_693_693" id="FNanchor_693_693"></a><a href="#Footnote_693_693" class="fnanchor">[693]</a> insulted -in the face of the army; and to the Greeks, -whose governing sentiment was <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴδως</span>, or honour, insult -was the deadliest of all inflictions. Further, he is -defrauded by the withdrawal of that which, by the -public authority, presiding over the distribution of -spoil, he had been taught to call his own; and he -keenly feels the combination of deceit with insolence<a name="FNanchor_694_694" id="FNanchor_694_694"></a><a href="#Footnote_694_694" class="fnanchor">[694]</a>. -Justice is outraged in his person, when he alone among -the warriors is to have no share of the booty. In -this he rightly sees an ingratitude of threefold blackness; -it is done by the man, for whose sake<a name="FNanchor_695_695" id="FNanchor_695_695"></a><a href="#Footnote_695_695" class="fnanchor">[695]</a> he had -come to Troy without an interest of his own; it is -done to the man, whose hand, almost unaided, had -earned the spoil which the Greeks divided<a name="FNanchor_696_696" id="FNanchor_696_696"></a><a href="#Footnote_696_696" class="fnanchor">[696]</a>: lastly, it is -done to him, on whose valour the fortunes of their host -with the hopes of their enterprise principally depended, -and whose mere presence on the field of itself drives -and holds aloof the principal champions of Troy<a name="FNanchor_697_697" id="FNanchor_697_697"></a><a href="#Footnote_697_697" class="fnanchor">[697]</a>. And, -lastly, while the whole army is responsible by acquiescence -and is so declared by him, (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπεί μ’ ἀφέλεσθέ γε -δόντες</span>, Il. i. 299,) the insult and wrong proceed from -one, whose avarice and irresolution made him in the -eyes of Achilles at once hateful and contemptible<a name="FNanchor_698_698" id="FNanchor_698_698"></a><a href="#Footnote_698_698" class="fnanchor">[698]</a>.</p> - -<p>Such is the deadly wrong, that lights up the wrath -of Achilles. And, as he broods over his injuries, -according to the law of an honourable but therefore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span> -susceptible, and likewise a fierce and haughty nature, -the flame waxes hotter and hotter, and requires more -and more to quench it. Thus there is a terrible progression -and expansion in his revenge: and by degrees -he arrives at a height of fierce vindictiveness, that -minutely calculates the modes in which the suffering -of its object can be carried to a <i>maximum</i>, yet so as to -leave his own renown untouched, and open the widest -field for the exercise of his valour. It is not vice, nor -is it virtue, which Homer is describing in his Achilles; -it is that strange and wayward mixture of regard for -right and justice with self-love on the one side, and -wrath on the other, which are so common among us men -of meaner scale. The difference is, that in Achilles all -the parts of the compound are at once deepened to a -superhuman intensity, and raised to a scale of magnificence -which almost transcends our powers of vision. -We must, indeed, no more look for a didactic and -pedantic consistency in the movement of his mind, than -in shocks from an earthquake, or bursts of flame from a -volcano. But a real consistency there is; and doubtless -it could be measured by the rules of every day, if only -every day produced an Achilles.</p> - -<p>Let us now follow his course with close attention.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Restitution not the object of Achilles.</i></div> - -<p>It can hardly fail to draw remark, that the spirit -of Achilles never from the first moment fastens on -mere restitution, or on restitution at all, as its -object. With his knowledge of his own might, which -was enough to prompt him, had he not been restrained -from heaven, to assail and slay Agamemnon on the -spot, he nevertheless does not so much as entertain the -thought of fighting to keep Briseis. His thought is -far other than this: ‘I will not lift a finger against -one of you for the girl, since you choose to take from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> -me what you gave (298, 9). I will not hold what you -think fit to grudge.’ While he adds, that they shall -not touch an article of what is properly his own<a name="FNanchor_699_699" id="FNanchor_699_699"></a><a href="#Footnote_699_699" class="fnanchor">[699]</a>. -Not that he cares for mere possession or dispossession. -Were that his thought, he would have lifted up the -invincible arm for the retention of Briseis. But his -thought is this, ‘One outrage you have done to justice -and to me, and, encouraged as well as commanded -by great deities, I bear it; but not even under their -promises and injunctions will I endure that you shall -sin again.’ The loss he had suffered now became quite -a subordinate image in his mind; punishment of the -offenders, and not restitution, was ever before his view. -His first threat is that of withdrawal (Il. i. 169): which, -he conceives, will put a stop to Agamemnon’s rapacious -accumulations. Next (233) he swears the mighty -oath that every Greek shall rue the day of his wrong, -and look in vain to Agamemnon for protection against -the sword of Hector. Again, in his prayer to Thetis, -he intreats that she will induce Jupiter to drive the -Greeks in rout and slaughter back upon the ships and -the sea. He never dreams of the mere reparation of -his wrong: when he refers to Briseis in the great -oration of the Ninth Book, it is for the purpose of -a slaying sarcasm against the Atreidæ; his soul utterly -refuses to treat the affair in the manner of an action at -law for damages; he looks for nothing less than the -prostration of the Grecian host and its being brought -to the very door of utter and final ruin, with the -compound view of avenging wrong, glorifying justice, -enhancing the sufferings of his foe, and magnifying the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> -occasion and achievements of his own might, to be put -forth when the proper time shall come.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The offer radically defective.</i></div> - -<p>The hero withdraws, and remains aloof. The Greeks, -after a panic and a recovery, determine to carry on the -war without him. But the hostile deities, less under -restraint than the friendly ones, give active encouragement -to the Trojan chiefs and army in the fight. They -are discerned by the Greeks, who accordingly recede<a name="FNanchor_700_700" id="FNanchor_700_700"></a><a href="#Footnote_700_700" class="fnanchor">[700]</a>. -Finding that, instead of driving the Trojans to the city, -on the contrary, even before the single fight of Hector -and Ajax, they themselves had suffered loss, they -supply their camp with the defences, which it had -never needed while the name of Achilles and his -prowess kept the enemy either within their walls, or in -the immediate vicinity of the city. This happens in -the Seventh Book, and it is the first note of the consequences -of the Wrath. In the Eighth, they are more -decidedly worsted under a divine influence, and are -driven back upon their works, while the Trojans bivouac -on the place of battle. The army had suffered no heavy -loss: yet the infirm will of Agamemnon gives way: -and, portending greater evils, he a second time counsels -flight<a name="FNanchor_701_701" id="FNanchor_701_701"></a><a href="#Footnote_701_701" class="fnanchor">[701]</a>. The advice is warmly repudiated by Diomed -and the other chiefs. Still the course of their affairs -is now by undeniable signs altered for the worse. -Hereupon, Nestor advises an attempt to conciliate -Achilles by offers of restitution and of gifts, with close -union and incorporation into the family of Agamemnon. -Now it is most important that we should observe, -that gifts and kind words were the beginning and the -end of this mission. There was no confession of wrong -authorized by Agamemnon, or made by the Envoys, to -Achilles. The woes of the Greeks are described:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> -Achilles is exhorted to lay aside his Wrath: he is told -of all the fine things he will receive upon his compliance: -but not one word in the speech of Ulysses -conveys the admission at length gained from Agamemnon -in the Nineteenth Book, that he has offended. -Therefore Achilles is not appeased: but, I must add, -neither is justice satisfied, nor right re-established.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Apology needed also.</i></div> - -<p>Presents and promises were not what Achilles wanted. -On the contrary, to his inflamed and inexorable spirit, -being less than and different from the thing he sought, -the very offer of them was matter of new exasperation. -The very offer of them thus made seemed, and in some -degree rightly seemed, to imply that they who tendered -it must take him for a man, whose mind was cast in -the same sordid mould as that of the king, who had -given the offence. Gifts indeed Achilles must have, -and abundance of them, when he is at last to be appeased: -but it is not in order to swell an inventory of -possessions: it is that the memory of them may dwell -in his mind, and stand upon the record of his life, like -the golden ornaments that he wore upon his manly -person, namely, to exhibit and to make felt his glory.</p> - -<p>I do not indeed presume to say we have evidence to -show that Achilles would have relented at the period -of the mission, if a frank confession of wrong, and -apology for insult, had been made together with the -proffer of the gifts. On the contrary, with his higher -sentiments there mingled a towering passion of a vindictive -order. It was as it were the corruption or -abuse, not the basis, of the mood of the estranged -Achilles: but it was there, and there, like everything -Achillean, in colossal proportions. Still I think it has -not been sufficiently observed that, as matter of fact, -the proceeding of the Ninth Book was radically de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>fective, -because it treated the affair as (so to call it) one -of mere merchandize, to be disposed of like the balance -of an account.</p> - -<p>When Achilles finds that the desire to avenge the -death of Patroclus has become paramount within him, -and in consequence renounces the Wrath<a name="FNanchor_702_702" id="FNanchor_702_702"></a><a href="#Footnote_702_702" class="fnanchor">[702]</a>, it is true -that he does not stipulate for an apology. But neither -does he stipulate for the gifts. Both however -are given, and the apology comes first in the faltering -speech of Agamemnon<a name="FNanchor_703_703" id="FNanchor_703_703"></a><a href="#Footnote_703_703" class="fnanchor">[703]</a>, who distinguishes between -two kinds of atonement;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἂψ ἐθέλω ἀρέσαι, δόμεναί τ’ ἀπερείσι’ ἄποινα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Were there any doubt about the reality of this distinction, -it might be removed by evidence which the Odyssey -supplies. Eurualus, who appears to have been one -of the secondary kings in Scheria, had not yet atoned -for his insult to Ulysses, when Alcinous recommended -that all the twelve, who belonged to that order, should -make a present to the departing stranger. But from -Eurualus, he observes, something more is requisite; he -must offer an apology as well as a gift<a name="FNanchor_704_704" id="FNanchor_704_704"></a><a href="#Footnote_704_704" class="fnanchor">[704]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Εὐρύαλος δέ ἑ αὐτὸν ἀρεσσάσθω ἐπέεσσιν</div> - <div class="verse">καὶ δώρῳ· ἐπεὶ οὔτι ἔπος κατὰ μοῖραν ἔειπεν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And this is done accordingly, in the amplest and -frankest manner.</p> - -<p>All this should be borne in mind, when we estimate -the consistency of the Poet through the medium of the -conduct of Achilles.</p> - -<p>It was not a moment’s light apprehension, suffered -by Agamemnon and the army, that could avail to -obliterate his resentment. They had scarcely tasted of -the cup of bitterness; he required that they should -drain it to the dregs. He will not hear of the return<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> -of Briseis: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τῇ παριαύων τερπέσθω</span><a name="FNanchor_705_705" id="FNanchor_705_705"></a><a href="#Footnote_705_705" class="fnanchor">[705]</a>. With a mixture of -close argument, terrible denunciation, and withering -sarcasm, he overpowers and silences the Envoys. Only -Phœnix can address him, and that after a long pause -and in tears.</p> - -<p>Yet the mighty spirit of Achilles sways to and fro -in the tempest of its own emotions. Again he has -threatened to depart: bidding them, with a bitterness -that mounts far away into the region of the sublime, -come the next day and see, if they think such a sight -can be worth their seeing, his fleet speeding homeward -across the broad Hellespont; or north Ægean. -But this course of action would have balked his appetite -for glory; which, as he knew<a name="FNanchor_706_706" id="FNanchor_706_706"></a><a href="#Footnote_706_706" class="fnanchor">[706]</a>, he could only buy, -and that with his life, at Troy. Perhaps, too, he was -softened by the respect of the Envoys, who were personally -agreeable to him; perhaps grimly pleased with -the awe that his Titanic passion had inspired; perhaps -affected with a sympathetic feeling of regard by the -straightforward bluntness of Ajax. At any rate it is -plain that there followed upon the speech of the Telamoniad -chief<a name="FNanchor_707_707" id="FNanchor_707_707"></a><a href="#Footnote_707_707" class="fnanchor">[707]</a> a greater sign of yielding, than any which -the paternal exhortations of Phœnix, or those most artfully -drawn pictures by Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_708_708" id="FNanchor_708_708"></a><a href="#Footnote_708_708" class="fnanchor">[708]</a> of the rage and fury of -Hector, had sufficed to produce. In answer to Ulysses, -to the bottom of whose astuteness his clear eye had -pierced, he says, ‘I shall go<a name="FNanchor_709_709" id="FNanchor_709_709"></a><a href="#Footnote_709_709" class="fnanchor">[709]</a>.’ In answer to Phœnix<a name="FNanchor_710_710" id="FNanchor_710_710"></a><a href="#Footnote_710_710" class="fnanchor">[710]</a>, -‘To-morrow we will decide, whether to go or stay.’ In -answer to Ajax, he makes a more sensible advance. -He now so far relents as to tell them, he will bethink -himself of battle; yet it shall only be when the hand -of Hector, dealing death to Greeks, and flame to their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span> -vessels, shall have reached the tents and ships of the -Myrmidons. Then it will be time enough: for then, at -<i>his</i> encampment and by <i>his</i> dark ship, he trows that he -will stay the course of Hector, however keen for fight<a name="FNanchor_711_711" id="FNanchor_711_711"></a><a href="#Footnote_711_711" class="fnanchor">[711]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Consistency maintained in and after Il.</i> ix.</div> - -<p>Thus far, then, we surely have no pretext for saying -that Homer has departed from the purpose of his -poem, of which the man Achilles is the centre and -animating principle, and his Wrath with its terrible -effects the theme. These effects are now developed -up to a certain point: not such a point as really to endanger -the army, or excite strong sympathy or apprehension -on its behalf, but yet such a point as entirely -to tame the irresolute egotism of Agamemnon, and -drive his but half-masculine character into efforts again -to lay hold upon the prop, which he had so rashly and -lightly, as well as selfishly and unjustly, put away.</p> - -<p>If we were to consider Achilles as engaged in a mere -personal quarrel, we must condemn him, without any -qualification whatever, for not accepting the reparation -now tendered by Agamemnon. But if we bear in -mind that the wrong done was a public wrong, that no -confession of this wrong was made, that the other -kings and leaders, and the whole army, became in some -degree parties to it by their acquiescence, and that he -was thus as much or more the vindicator of great -public rights than the mere avenger of a personal -offence, it is not so clear that the conduct of Achilles -after the mission of the Ninth Book is incapable in -principle of justification, according to the moral code -of Greece. It must, however, undoubtedly remain -amenable to severe censure on the score of excess: a -culpability, for the penal notice of which Homer has -made abundant provision in the sequel of the poem.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span></p> -<p>But this question is by the way: the main issue -raised is as to the poetical consistency and effect of the -structure, which Homer has chosen for his work. Upon -this there is surely little room for doubt.</p> - -<p>From the Ninth Book we commence afresh: Achilles -in his moody seclusion, the Greeks in a manful determination -to do their best; even Agamemnon is now roused -to feel what he has brought upon the army, thrown back -from his moral irresolution as a chief upon his personal -courage as a soldier, and resolved to appear in the field, -that he too may earn his laurels there.</p> - -<p>And these intentions are gallantly fulfilled. The -night foray of Diomed and Ulysses stands well, as one -of the minor but safe measures, by which a skilful generalship -often makes its first efforts to raise the spirits -of a downcast army. Agamemnon then appears, and -shows himself to be a warrior of a high, nay of the -highest order of strength and valour. The other kings -exert themselves with their wonted chivalry. But the -decree of Jove, working through the accidents of war, -drives three of the four great champions from the field, -and leaves only Ajax; who, invincible wherever he is -found, yet cannot be everywhere, nor, single handed, -govern the result of battle along the whole extent of -the line. And now come the great exertions and successes -of the Trojans, especially Sarpedon and his Lycian -contingent, Hector playing rather a conventional -than a real part. Now it goes hard indeed with the -Greeks; the fire touches the ships; Patroclus must go -forth and die; and the Wrath is at an end, for it is -drowned in the bitterness of the tears of Achilles.</p> - -<p>With reference, then, to the main purpose of the -poem, it proceeds regularly to its climax, and there is -no limb of the Iliad separable from the body without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> -destroying the symmetrical, masculine, and broad development -of its general plan. I speak now of the -principal fabric of the poem. Few who are not prepared -to pull that in pieces will, I apprehend, accede -to the proposal to shear it of the two last Books, which -therefore hardly require a separate defence.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Skilful adjustment of conflicting aims.</i></div> - -<p>To me it appears well worthy of remark, with what -extraordinary skill Homer has contrived to adjust his -poem to the several aims which he had to keep in -view. The grand one doubtless was the glory of his -country in the person of Achilles<a name="FNanchor_712_712" id="FNanchor_712_712"></a><a href="#Footnote_712_712" class="fnanchor">[712]</a>. Still he was bound -not to sacrifice poetically the martial fame of the rest of -Greece even to the first among them, whatever calamities -he might make the army suffer on his account. To avoid -this sacrifice, he was obliged to uphold the military -character and power of the Greeks in their struggle -with the Trojans, even when deprived of the prowess -of their great champion Achilles. And yet he could -not degrade Hector and the Trojans, or he would have -reached the lame conclusion of adorning his own country’s -heroes with a poor and unworthy triumph. Thus -his course was to be steered among a variety of difficulties, -all pressing upon him from opposite quarters.</p> - -<p>We see at once how steadily he kept in view his pole-star; -how he handled the events and characters of his -poem so as to give the most powerful, or rather it may -be said the most overpowering, impression of the great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>ness -of his hero, which is lifted higher and higher by the -whole movement of the work as it proceeds. Let us -now examine whether, in giving full scope to his main -purpose, he has been obliged to sacrifice others which -were also important, nay, if the highest excellence was -his aim, even indispensable.</p> - -<p>The paramount glory of Achilles is established by this: -first, that in the Ninth Book the whole army, as it were, -lies at his feet, and is spurned from thence: secondly, that -when he finally comes forth, it is not in deference to -those who have insulted him, but it is under the burning -impulses of his own heart. Let us now proceed to inquire -whether the Poet has or has not satisfied two other -great demands. Has he, as a Greek, done all that was -required to glorify Greece, and is Achilles its crown -only, or is he its substitute? Has he, as a man, vindicated -the principles of the moral order, and of that retributive -justice which, even in this world, visibly maintains -at least a partial balance between human action -and its consequences to the agent?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Glory given to Greece.</i></div> - -<p>We should look in vain, I think, for a finer and -subtler exercise of poetic art, than in the mode in -which Homer has contrived to convey to us, both the -general, and in particular the military inferiority of -the Trojans, as compared with the Greeks. Hardly -any reader can be so superficial in his observation of -the poem, as not to rise from it with this inferiority -sufficiently impressed upon his mind. Yet there is not -a passage or a word throughout, in which it is asserted. -And why? Because every direct assertion that the -Trojans were less valiant or less strong than their antagonists, -would have been so much detracted from the -glory of overcoming them. It was essential to the work -of the Poet, that he should represent the contest as an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> -arduous one. He might have done this in the coarse method, -for which his theurgy would have afforded the materials: -that is, by converting his Trojans into mere puppets, -whose arm, at every turn of the narrative, merely -represented the impelling force of some deity or other, -and, independently of such extraneous aid, was powerless. -But this would have destroyed the full-flushed -humanity of Homer’s poem.</p> - -<p>As it is, he has availed himself of the divine element -to make up by its assistance for the comparative weakness -of the Trojan chiefs: but it is only a subdued and -occasional assistance, so that there is no glaring difference -in point of free agency between the two parties. Nor -can it be without a purpose, that the two deities, who -appear in the field on behalf of the Trojans, namely, -Venus and Mars, are sent off it both wounded, the one -whining, and the other howling, by the prowess of -Diomed. If the Greeks are to suffer by the gods, he -takes care that it shall not be by those gods who are -the mere national partisans of Troy, but by a higher -agency; by the decree of Jupiter, now temporarily indeed, -but effectively, set against them.</p> - -<p>It is by an indefinitely great number of strokes and -touches each indefinitely small, that Homer has gained -his object. The Trojan successes are always effected with -the concurrence of supernatural power; the Greeks not -unfrequently without, and sometimes even against it<a name="FNanchor_713_713" id="FNanchor_713_713"></a><a href="#Footnote_713_713" class="fnanchor">[713]</a>.</p> - -<p>He as it were sets up the Trojans, so to speak, by -generalities; but he gives to the Greeks, with certain -occasional exceptions, the whole detail of solid achievement. -Sometimes he allows a panic of doubt and fear -to seize their host, but he takes care to make the sentiment -only flit like a momentary shade over the sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> -Thus, when the assembled chieftains of the Greek army -hesitate to accept the challenge of Hector<a name="FNanchor_714_714" id="FNanchor_714_714"></a><a href="#Footnote_714_714" class="fnanchor">[714]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αἴδεσθεν μὲν ἀνήνασθαι, δεῖσαν δ’ ὑποδέχθαι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But after a short interval, and a proper appeal, nine -champions appear, each and all burning to meet Hector -in single combat. Sometimes he contrives to direct -his praises to martial appearance and exterior, but -carefully avoids the real touches of heroic character; as -when he bestows on Paris the noble simile of the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στάτος ἵππος</span>. Generally he pays off, as it were, the -Trojans with high-sounding words, and reserves nearly -all the true qualities of heroes, as well as their exploits, -for the Achæans. With them are the sagacity, consistency, -firmness, promptitude, enterprise, power of -adapting means to ends, comprehensiveness of view, as -well as main strength of hand. But by the expedients -I have mentioned, the Trojans are raised to, and kept -at and no more than at, the level necessary to make -them worthy and creditable antagonists. One other -engine for the purpose has been employed by him, -namely, the real valour and manhood of the Lycian -kings and forces<a name="FNanchor_715_715" id="FNanchor_715_715"></a><a href="#Footnote_715_715" class="fnanchor">[715]</a>, with whom he had evidently a strong -and peculiar sympathy; whose chief, Sarpedon, is really -a better man in war than Hector, though much less -pretentious; and who, under this prince, achieve the -only real, great, and independent success that is to be -found on that side throughout the whole course of the -poems, namely, the first forcing of the Greek entrenchments<a name="FNanchor_716_716" id="FNanchor_716_716"></a><a href="#Footnote_716_716" class="fnanchor">[716]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Trojan inferiority indeed lies very much more -palpably in the chiefs, than in the common soldiers. -Between the bulk of the army on the one side and on -the other, Homer represents no great—at least no -glaring difference. Sometimes the fight is carried on -upon terms purely equal<a name="FNanchor_717_717" id="FNanchor_717_717"></a><a href="#Footnote_717_717" class="fnanchor">[717]</a>, as during the forenoon of -the day in the Eleventh Book: where there is superiority, -it is assigned to the Greeks<a name="FNanchor_718_718" id="FNanchor_718_718"></a><a href="#Footnote_718_718" class="fnanchor">[718]</a> or to the Trojans<a name="FNanchor_719_719" id="FNanchor_719_719"></a><a href="#Footnote_719_719" class="fnanchor">[719]</a>, -according as the exigencies of the poem may require. -Still he contrives some note of difference so as to -draw a line between the merit of the respective successes; -thus, when the Trojans turn the Greeks to flight, -there is commonly an intimation, in more or less general -terms, of a divine agency stimulating them. Hostile -weapons are indeed often turned aside on behalf of -Greeks: but only in one instance, I think, do the -Greeks derive decided advantage from a panic divinely -inspired: it is when, in the Sixteenth Book, Jupiter -instils into Hector the spirit of fear<a name="FNanchor_720_720" id="FNanchor_720_720"></a><a href="#Footnote_720_720" class="fnanchor">[720]</a>.</p> - -<p>This absence of broad contrast between the two soldieries -is in entire accordance with what we have seen -reason to presume as to their composition; namely, -that the rank and file on both sides was in all likelihood -composed from kindred and Pelasgian races.</p> - -<p>Yet a strong jealousy on behalf of his country is ever -the predominant sentiment in the Poet’s mind; and -accordingly he insinuates, with much art, suggestions -which keep even the Trojan soldiery somewhat below -the Greeks; while to the chieftains of the Greek army, -though his laudatory epithets are nearly as high on the -one side as on the other, he assigns in action an enormous -superiority, both military and intellectual. Accordingly, -when we come to cast up the results of the actual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span> -encounters, we are astounded at the littleness, the -almost nothingness, of the Trojan achievements, and at -the large havock wrought by their opponents, even during -the period when Achilles was in estrangement<a name="FNanchor_721_721" id="FNanchor_721_721"></a><a href="#Footnote_721_721" class="fnanchor">[721]</a>.</p> - -<p>As regards the armies at large, observe the similes -used in the Fourth Book<a name="FNanchor_722_722" id="FNanchor_722_722"></a><a href="#Footnote_722_722" class="fnanchor">[722]</a>. The Greeks move in silence -and discipline, like the swelling waves when the tempest -is just beginning to gather: the Trojans, like innumerable -sheep, who stand bleating in the fold while -they are being milked<a name="FNanchor_723_723" id="FNanchor_723_723"></a><a href="#Footnote_723_723" class="fnanchor">[723]</a>. In the Fifth Book, while it is -mentioned, as if casually, that Apollo, Mars, and Eris, -were stirring and keeping up the Trojans, it is subjoined, -without ostensible reference to this intimation, -but plainly in artful contrast with it, that the Greeks -found sufficient incentives in the exhortations of the -two Ajaxes, of Ulysses, and of Diomed<a name="FNanchor_724_724" id="FNanchor_724_724"></a><a href="#Footnote_724_724" class="fnanchor">[724]</a>. Again, when -Hector returns, after his battle with Ajax<a name="FNanchor_725_725" id="FNanchor_725_725"></a><a href="#Footnote_725_725" class="fnanchor">[725]</a>, to his comrades, -we are told that they rejoiced in finding him -restored to them in safety, contrary to their expectation, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀέλπτοντες σόον εἶναι</span>. On the other hand, it is added, -the Greeks led Ajax to Agamemnon, exulting in his -victory over Hector (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κεχαρηότα νίκῃ</span>). The Greeks feel -no thankfulness, because they had, we are evidently to -understand, felt no fear. And the chief rejoices in his -victory, which it really was. It was, indeed, ended as a -drawn battle, though Ajax had had the best of it at every -stage; but not so much for the honour of Hector, as for -the purposes of the poem, since Hector had to meet -Achilles in the field, and he would have been degraded -by encountering an antagonist that anybody else had palpably -worsted. To state the paradox as Homer had to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span> -confront it, the problem was to make Ajax conqueror, -without letting Hector be conquered.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Inferiority glaring in the Chiefs.</i></div> - -<p>When we look to the case of the chieftains as a -whole, the contrast is glaring. No first rate, or even -second rate, Greek chieftain is ever killed in fair field: -Tlepolemus, slain by Sarpedon, comes the nearest to that -rank, but is not in it. Patroclus is only slain after -being disarmed by Apollo: and here it seems to me -as if for once the Poet had a little overshot his mark; -for the artifice is gross, and covers the pretended exploit -of Hector with indelible disgrace. In fact, Hector -never once achieves a considerable success in the field: -though only Achilles, the first Greek warrior, is allowed -completely to overcome him<a name="FNanchor_726_726" id="FNanchor_726_726"></a><a href="#Footnote_726_726" class="fnanchor">[726]</a>, yet he is decidedly inferior -in fight to both Diomed and Ajax, who jointly -occupy the two next places, but as between whom -Homer has not decisively marked the claim to precedence. -In general terms, he gives it to Ajax more -emphatically<a name="FNanchor_727_727" id="FNanchor_727_727"></a><a href="#Footnote_727_727" class="fnanchor">[727]</a>, but he details more and greater acts of -prowess in favour of Diomed.</p> - -<p>Even with Agamemnon Hector is admonished, on -the part of Jupiter, not to contend: and he follows the -advice. Of the Trojan chiefs who really fight, a large -proportion are slain; Glaucus, Æneas, Deiphobus, and -Polydamas are the most considerable who survive. No -eminent Trojan in fact is ever allowed to display real -heroism, except under circumstances where the issue is -quite hopeless: accordingly Homer has never surrounded -Hector with true heroic grandeur, in deed as -well as word, until his final battle against Achilles, -when he is at last brought to bay, and when his doom -is certain. All the considerable injuries inflicted upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> -great Greek chieftains are from causes not implying -personal prowess in their rivals: from the arrows of -Pandarus or of Paris, or by the chance hit of some -insignificant, or at the least secondary, but desperate -Trojan, such as Socus, or such as Coon, struck even as -he is himself receiving or about to receive his own -death-blow<a name="FNanchor_728_728" id="FNanchor_728_728"></a><a href="#Footnote_728_728" class="fnanchor">[728]</a>. But for these ignoble wounds, which were -inflicted on many chiefs, including three prime heroes, -Agamemnon, Diomed, and Ulysses, the Greeks, according -to the agency of the poem as it stands, never would -have been driven back upon their ships at all.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Conflicting exigencies of the plan.</i></div> - -<p>Now Homer’s difficulty in this matter was not simply -that which has been heretofore pointed out, or which -has been commonly supposed. His aim, says Heyne<a name="FNanchor_729_729" id="FNanchor_729_729"></a><a href="#Footnote_729_729" class="fnanchor">[729]</a>, -in representing the disasters of the Greeks is, <i>ut per eas -Achillis virtus insigniatur, quippe quâ destituti Achivi -succumbunt, eâdem redditâ vincunt</i>. But this is surely -a misstatement of the case. Homer has not represented -the Greeks <i>plus</i> Achilles as superior to the -Trojans, and the Greeks <i>minus</i> Achilles as inferior to -them. This was what a vulgar artist, whose mind -could only hold one idea at a time, would have done; -nay, what it was difficult to avoid doing, for it was vital -to Homer’s purpose that the vengeance of Achilles -should be completely satiated: it was not to be thought -of that this transcendent character, this ideal hero, -should be balked by man of woman born; the whole web -of the Poet’s thought would have been rent across, had -there been failure in such a point. What was needful in -this view could only be accomplished by the extremest -calamities of the Greeks. These calamities he had to -bring about, and yet to give to the Greeks a real su<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>periority -of military virtue. We have seen already -how he effected the latter: how did he manage the -former? Partly by giving Achilles, in right of his -mother Thetis, such an interest in the courts of -heaven, as to throw a preponderating divine agency -for the time on the side of the Trojans; partly by a -skilful use of the chances of war, in assigning to Troy -a superiority in the comparatively ignoble skill (as it -was then used) of the bow. Thus he causes the Greeks -to be worsted, notwithstanding their superiority: by -their being worsted, he satisfies the exigencies of his -plot; by exhibiting their superiority, he fulfils the conditions -of his own office as a national poet. To speak -of the ingenuity of Homer may sound strange, for we -are accustomed to associate his name with ideas of -greater nobleness; but still his ingenuity, in this adjustment -of conflicting demands upon him, appears to -be such as has never been surpassed.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Greeks superior even without Achilles.</i></div> - -<p>And here I, for one, cannot but admire the way in -which Homer has made purposes, which others would -have found conflicting, to serve as reciprocal auxiliaries. -The Embassy of the Ninth Book certainly glorifies -Achilles: but let us ask, does it not help also to -glorify Greece? Let us consider what had happened. -The withdrawal of Achilles was at once felt as a great -blow; and it acted on the whole tone of the army. -This appears in various ways. We read it in the home-sick -impulses of the Second Assembly (b. ii.); in the -advice of Nestor to take measures for securing the responsibility -of officers and men (ii. 360-8); in the -slackness of various chiefs during the Circuit of Agamemnon -(b. iv.); in its being recorded to the honour of -that leader (iv. 223) that he did not flinch from his duty; -lastly, in the momentary reluctance of the Greek heroes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> -to encounter Hector (vii. 93). All this is thoroughly natural. -Having leant upon a prop, they were not at once -aware of their remaining and intrinsic strength. They, -like all persons who have not learned the habit of self-reliance, -required to learn it with pain. Hence, after -the very first touch of comparative weakness in the -field, they conceive the idea of the rampart. They -had not really been worsted: but their enemies had -learned to face them; their position was now no longer -what it had used to be, when Hector did not venture -out in front of the Dardanian Gate. But the building -of the rampart produced, as was natural, an increased -weakness. Besides this, Jupiter, seeing that the tendency -of events was not to give a sufficiently rapid and -decisive triumph to Achilles, now inhibited those deities, -who were friendly to Greece, from taking part, while he -himself (viii. 75) alarmed and abashed the Greeks with -his thunder. They thus feel themselves thrown one full -stage further into weakness. What more natural, than -that they should turn to Achilles, and try his disposition -towards them? This is effected in the Ninth Book. -They then become acquainted practically, for the first -time, with the fierceness of the seven times heated -furnace of the Wrath. This experience teaches them, -that they must do or die. So at last, the bridge behind -them being broken, Greece is put upon her -mettle. The gallant Diomed becomes the spokesman -at once of chivalry and of common sense. ‘You should -not have asked him. By asking, you have emboldened -and hardened him. Let him alone. Rely upon yourselves. -Refresh yourselves with sleep and a good meal, -and then, order out the troops, and have at them: I -for my part will be found in the van<a name="FNanchor_730_730" id="FNanchor_730_730"></a><a href="#Footnote_730_730" class="fnanchor">[730]</a>.’ Then it is that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span> -the Greeks understand their position, and, casting off -hope from Achilles, place it in themselves. Hence -that great development of valorous energies in the -Eleventh Book, which proves that in equal fight, even -though Achilles were absent, Troy had not a hope: so -that the expedient of chance-wounds, disabling all the -prime warriors but Ajax, is absolutely necessary in -order to bring about the required amount of disaster. -It appears to me, I confess, that this is a masterly adjustment, -alike true in nature, and high in art.</p> - -<p>But first, after the great repulse, comes the pilot-balloon, -the tentative effort, of the Doloneia.</p> - -<p>Next to the skill and power with which the Poet -has discriminated the characters of his greater Greek -heroes, I am tempted to admire the circumspection and -precision, with which he has assigned their relative degrees -of prominence in the action. To those who complain -of the Doloneia for want of a purpose, I would -reply that, in the first place, besides its merits as an -operation with reference to the circumstances of the -moment, (for it feeds the army, as it were, with milk, -when they were not yet ready for strong meat,) it remarkably -varies the tenour of the action, which without -it would have fallen into something of sleepy sameness, -by substituting stratagem for force, and night-adventure -for the conflicts of the day. Let those who -doubt this strike out the Tenth Book, and then consider -how the course of the military transactions of the poem -would stand without it: how much more justly the first -moiety of the military action of the poem would stand -liable to the imputation of monotony, which even now -is of necessity the besetting danger of the whole poem. -But more; I contend that the Doloneia constitutes, in -the main, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστεῖα</span> of Ulysses. His distinguished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> -part in the Second Book is political only, and has no -concern with his military qualifications. His ordinary -military exploits elsewhere are secondary, and also -scattered. To assign to him a great share in the field -operations would have been a much less fine preparation, -than the Iliad now affords, for his appearance in -the Odyssey; and it would also have hazarded sameness -as between his achievements and the other <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστεῖα</span> -of the great chiefs. Besides, there was little room -in the field, as the martial art was then understood, for -his distinctive qualities, self-reliance, presence of mind, -fertility in resource. But military distinction, even -in the time of Homer, lay in two great departments, -one known as the fight (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάχη</span>), the other as ambush -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λόχος</span>). The latter was of fully equal, nay, on account -of its sharper trial of moral courage<a name="FNanchor_731_731" id="FNanchor_731_731"></a><a href="#Footnote_731_731" class="fnanchor">[731]</a>, it was even of -still greater honour. To this class the night adventure -essentially belonged. Here Ulysses is thoroughly at -home. In the Doloneia, Diomed is merely the sword -in the hand of Ulysses; who directs the operation, and -overrules his brave companion when he thinks fit, as, -for example, in the matter of the slaughter of Dolon. -In what other way could Homer have given us an -equally characteristic illustration of the military qualities -of Ulysses?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Harmony in relative prominence of the Chiefs.</i></div> - -<p>Now this view of the Doloneia fills up, I think, what -must otherwise be admitted to be a gap in the poem. -It being thus filled up, let us observe the accuracy -with which shares in the action of the poem are assigned -to the respective chiefs. Nestor has his own -place apart as universal counsellor. Ulysses also, who, -as the great twin conception to Achilles, must never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> -be allowed to appear in a light of inferiority to any one, -is so managed as not to eclipse the might of Ajax or -the bravery of Diomed; and yet he has all his attributes -kept entire for the great part he had to play in the -Odyssey, and is never beaten, never baffled, never excelled. -Then Ajax, Diomed, Agamemnon, Menelaus, -even elderly Idomeneus, have each the stage made -clear for them at different times, and with scope proportioned -to their several claims upon us. The very -intervals between their several appearances are made -as wide as possible: for Diomed is in the Fifth and -Eleventh Books, Ajax in the Seventh, Agamemnon in -the Eleventh, Idomeneus in the Thirteenth<a name="FNanchor_732_732" id="FNanchor_732_732"></a><a href="#Footnote_732_732" class="fnanchor">[732]</a>, Menelaus -in the Seventeenth. Ajax excels in sheer might, Diomed -in pure gallantry of soul, and what is called <i>dash</i>; -Agamemnon’s dignity as a warrior is most skilfully -maintained, yet without his being brought into rivalry -with those two still greater heroes, by Hector’s being -counselled to avoid him. Menelaus, secondary in mere -force, though with a spirit no less brave than gentle, is -carried well through by the care taken that he shall -only meet with appropriate adversaries, and the same -pains are employed on behalf of Idomeneus. For -Patroclus, as the friend and second self of Achilles, -Homer’s fertile invention has secured a kind of distinction, -which does not displace that of others, and which, -notwithstanding, is eclipsed by none of them. He turns -the Trojan host; he slays the great Sarpedon; he is -himself slain only by foul play. I cannot vindicate the -clumsy intervention of Apollo, and the meanness of -the part played by Hector in this cardinal passage of -his career; still I find it curious and instructive to observe -in all this a new instance of the intense care, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> -which the Poet watches over the character especially -of his Achilles. He exalts him, by exalting first those -secondary eminences, far above which he keeps him -towering. Therefore he would have Patroclus slain -indeed, but not defeated, by Hector; and to this capital -object he appears to have made, perhaps unavoidably, -considerable sacrifices.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, then, it would seem that Homer -had to maintain a complex regard to a variety of objects. -First of all there was the relation to observe -between Achilles and all the other personages of his -poem on both sides of the quarrel. Then in distributing -his minor Alps, the other prime or distinguished -Greek warriors, about this great Alp, he had to keep -in mind and provide for their relations to one another, -as well as to him. Lastly, he had to carry Hector -and the Trojans so high, that to overcome their chief -should be his crowning exploit, and yet so low, that -they should not stand inconveniently between the -Greeks and the view of such national heroes as Ulysses, -Diomed, Ajax, and Agamemnon. Like Jupiter on Ida<a name="FNanchor_733_733" id="FNanchor_733_733"></a><a href="#Footnote_733_733" class="fnanchor">[733]</a>, -from none of these objects has he ever removed his -bright and watchful eye; for all of them he has made -a provision alike deliberate and skilful.</p> - -<p>It only remains to consider the outline of the plot -in reference to the Providential Government of the -world, and the administration of retributive justice; a -subject which has been ably handled by Mr. Granville -Penn<a name="FNanchor_734_734" id="FNanchor_734_734"></a><a href="#Footnote_734_734" class="fnanchor">[734]</a>.</p> - -<p>I am not able to admit that broad distinction, which -is frequently drawn between the provision made for -satisfying this great poetical and moral purpose in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> -Iliad and in the Odyssey respectively. In each I find -it not only remarkable, but even elaborate. In each -poem, Homer exhibits, above all things else, one chosen -human character with the amplest development. But -diversity is the key-note of the development in the -Odyssey, grandeur or magnitude in the Iliad. The -hurricane-like forces, that abound in the character of -Achilles, entail a greater amount of aberration from the -path of wisdom. But there is not wanting a proportionate -retributive provision. Ulysses, after a long course -of severe discipline patiently endured, has awarded to -him a peaceful old age, and a calm death, in his Ithaca -barren but beloved, with his people prospering around -him. Achilles, on the other hand, is so loaded with -gorgeous gifts that, wonderful as is their harmony in -all points but one, that one is the centre. He has not -the same unfailing and central solidity of moral equipoise. -In himself gallant, just, generous, refined, still -indignity can drive him into an extremity of pride and -fierceness, which call for stern correction. Hence it -comes about that, while the adversity of Ulysses is -the way to peace, the transcendent glory of Achilles is -attended by a series of devouring agonies; the rival -excitements of fierce pain and fiercer pleasure accompany -him along a path, which soon and suddenly descends -into the night of dismal death. Alike in the -one case and in the other, the balance of the moral -order is preserved; and that Erinūs, who, in so many -particular passages of the poems, makes miniature appearances -in order to vindicate the eternal laws, such as -the heroic age apprehended them, likewise presides in -full development over the general action of each of -these extraordinary poems.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Retributive justice in the two poems.</i></div> - -<p>Retributive justice, inseparably interwoven with hu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>man -destiny (for thus much the Erinūs signified) tracks -and dogs Achilles at every stage. Take him, for instance, -as the Ninth Book shows him, at the very -summit of his pride. It is in no light or joyous mood, -that he repels the Envoys. Who among readers does -not seem to <i>see</i> his spirit writhe, when he describes the -hot and bursting resentment in his breast, the stinging -recollection of the outrages he has undergone<a name="FNanchor_735_735" id="FNanchor_735_735"></a><a href="#Footnote_735_735" class="fnanchor">[735]</a>. Even by -the irrepressible curiosity, which compels him to mount -upon his ship for view, and to send out Patroclus to -learn the course of the battle, Homer has shown us how -false was any semblance of peace, that he could even -now enjoy in his giddy elevation.</p> - -<p>The rampart is pierced, the ships are reached, the -firebrand is hurled, and the first Greek ship burns. -Achilles must not depart from his word: but his restlessness -now conceives an expedient, the sending forth -of Patroclus to the fight. At the same time, he takes -every precaution that sagacity can suggest: he clothes -his friend in his own armour, exhorts the Myrmidons -to support him, above all enjoins him to confine himself -to defensive warfare, and not to follow the Trojans, -when repulsed, to the city. What then happens to -him? That which often befalls ourselves: that when -we have turned our back upon wisdom, wisdom turns -her back upon us. Achilles insisted upon the disaster -of his countrymen. When it came, it constrained him -to send out his friend: and the calamity he had himself -invoked was death to the man that he loved better -than his own soul.</p> - -<p>And why did Patroclus die? It was not that Achilles -imprudently exposed him to risks beyond his strength. -He was abundantly able to encounter Hector. Hector<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span> -had no care, so long as the battle was by the ships, to -encounter this chief. And Achilles had enjoined him to -fight by the ships only, lest, if he attempted the city, a -deity should take part against him<a name="FNanchor_736_736" id="FNanchor_736_736"></a><a href="#Footnote_736_736" class="fnanchor">[736]</a>. Patroclus disobeyed, -and perished accordingly. As Achilles had refused -to follow the laws of wisdom for himself, so, when -he carefully obeyed them, they were not to avail him -for the saving of his friend. Heaven fought against -Patroclus; Jupiter, after deliberation, tempted him -from the ships, by causing Hector to fly towards the city; -and the counsel of Achilles was now baffled as he had -baffled the counsels of others, the dart was launched -that was to pierce his soul to the quick.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Double conquest over Achilles.</i></div> - -<p>Thus his proud will was doomed to suffer. The suffering -is followed by the reconciliation, and by the climax of -his glory and revenge in the death of Hector. How in -these Books we see him moving in might almost preternatural, -with the whole world as it were, and all -its forces, in subjection to his arm! But he has only -passed from one excess of feeling into another: from -a vindictive excess of feeling against the Greeks, to -another vindictive excess of feeling against Hector. -The mutilation and dishonour of the body of his slain -antagonist now become a second idol, stirring the -great deep of his passions, and bewildering his mind. -Thus, in paying off his old debt to the eternal laws, he -has already contracted a new one. Again, then, his -proud will must be taught to bow. Hence, as Mr. Penn -has well shown, the necessity of the Twenty-fourth -Book with its beautiful machinery<a name="FNanchor_737_737" id="FNanchor_737_737"></a><a href="#Footnote_737_737" class="fnanchor">[737]</a>. Achilles must -surrender the darling object of his desire, the wreaking -of his vengeance on an inanimate corpse. On this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> -occasion, as before, he is subdued: and both times it is -through the medium of his tender affections. But in -both cases his evil gratification is cut short: and the -authority of the providential order is reestablished. -The Greeks pursue their righteous war: the respect -which nature enjoins is duly paid to the remains of -Hector, and the poem closes with the verse which -assures us that this obligation was duly and peacefully -discharged.</p> - -<p>With these views, I find in the plot of the Iliad -enough of beauty, order, and structure, not merely to -sustain the supposition of its own unity, but to bear -an independent testimony, should it be still needed, to -the existence of a personal and individual Homer as -its author.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>SECT. II.<br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>The sense of Beauty in Homer; human, animal, -and inanimate.</i></span></h3> - -<p>The idea of Beauty, especially as it is connected -with its most signal known manifestation in the human -form, and again the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φθορὰ</span>, or corruption of that idea, -have each their separate course and history in the religion -and manners, as well as in the arts, of Greece. By -the idea of Beauty, I mean here the conception of it in -the human mind as a pure and wonderful essence, -nearly akin to the Divine; derived from heaven, and -both continually and spontaneously tending to revert -to its source. By the corruption of that idea, I mean -the conception of it either mainly or wholly with reference -to animal enjoyment; sometimes within, and -sometimes beyond, the laws of Nature.</p> - -<p>In the works of Homer, we find the first of these -conceptions exceedingly prominent and powerful. It -approaches almost to a worship: and yet is scarcely at -all tainted with the second, scarcely presents the -smallest deflection from the very loftiest type. In -Homer, that is to say, in the Homeric descriptions of -human characters and life, we never find Beauty and -Vice pleasurably associated: he seems to have felt in -the sanctuary of his mind as much at least as this, if -not more; that a derogation from purity involved of -itself a descent from the highest to a lower form of -beauty: and therefore he never associates his highest -descriptions of beauty with vice: differing in this not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span> -only from so many heathen, but even from many -Christian authors.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Dardanid traditions.</i></div> - -<p>But yet it is most remarkable that, even in Homer’s -time, the level of popular tradition on the subject of -beauty had begun to descend, and though he had -escaped the taint, yet it had touched his age. Let us, -for example, take that most striking series of traditions -in the Dardanian royal family, which are recorded in -the poems of Homer. That family appears to have -had personal beauty for an almost entailed inheritance. -Not only Hector, Deiphobus, Æneas, as well as Paris, -possessed it, but Priam, even in his old age and affliction, -was divinely beautiful as he entered the apartment -of Achilles; and, as they sat at meat, and he -admired Achilles, Achilles returned his admiration<a name="FNanchor_738_738" id="FNanchor_738_738"></a><a href="#Footnote_738_738" class="fnanchor">[738]</a>.</p> - -<p>The line of traditions in this family, to which I now -refer, affords the best illustration of the idea of beauty -as ever striving, by an inner law, to rise to a heavenly -life. There are four of these traditions: and as we -pass from the older to the more recent, at each step -that we make, we lose some grain of the first ethereal -purity. The earliest of them all is the translation, -since coarsely and without ground called the rape, of -Ganymede: consistently indeed so called, according to -the idea of the fable which has prevailed in later ages, -but most absurdly, if it be applied to the tradition in -the shape in which it stands with Homer. With him -the tale of Ganymede is the most simple and perfect -assertion of the principle that beauty, heavenly in its -origin, is heavenly also in its destiny; and that the -heaven-born and heaven-bound should contract no -taint upon its intermediate passage. There were three -sons, says Homer, born to Tros; Ilus was one, Assa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span>racus -another: and the third was Ganymede, a match -for gods. Ganymede, the most beauteous of men, -whom, for his beauty, and seemingly before he had -come to maturity for succession, the gods snatched up -and made the cupbearer of Jupiter, that he might -dwell for ever among the Immortals<a name="FNanchor_739_739" id="FNanchor_739_739"></a><a href="#Footnote_739_739" class="fnanchor">[739]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὃς δὴ κάλλιστος γένετο θνητῶν ἀνθρώπων·</div> - <div class="verse">τὸν καὶ ἀνηρείψαντο θεοὶ Διὶ οἰνοχοεύειν</div> - <div class="verse">κάλλεος εἵνεκα οἷο, ἵν’ ἀθανάτοισι μετείη.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The idea of sanctity, indeed, is not to be discovered -here; its traces can only be found among the inspired -records; the resemblance to the deity does not reach -beyond the flesh and mind; yet the sum of the tale is -full of interest. The other sons grew up, and became -kings; he, that he might not linger, might not suffer, -might not contract taint or undergo decay on earth, was -taken up to that sphere, which is the proper home of -all things beautiful and good.</p> - -<p>The thought is somewhat related to that of the following -remarkable lines by Emerson:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Perchance not he, but nature ailed;</div> - <div class="verse">The world, and not the infant, failed.</div> - <div class="verse">It was not ripe yet to sustain</div> - <div class="verse">A genius of so fine a strain,</div> - <div class="verse">Who gazed upon the sun and moon</div> - <div class="verse">As if he came unto his own:</div> - <div class="verse">And pregnant with his grander thought,</div> - <div class="verse">Brought the old order into doubt.</div> - <div class="verse"><i>His beauty once their beauty tried;</i></div> - <div class="verse"><i>They could not feed him, and he died,</i></div> - <div class="verse">And wandered backward, as in scorn,</div> - <div class="verse">To wait an Æon to be born.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Far as the tradition of Ganymede, according to Homer, -is below that of Enoch, it is set by a yet wider distance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> -above the later version of the same tale. Thus, in -Euripides, we find him the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διὸς λέκτρων τρύφημα φίλον</span> -(Iph. Aul. 1037): and what is more sad is to find, that -this utterly debased and depressed idea prevailed over -the original and pure one, even to its extinction, and -was adopted and propagated by the highest and the -lowest poets of the Italian romance<a name="FNanchor_740_740" id="FNanchor_740_740"></a><a href="#Footnote_740_740" class="fnanchor">[740]</a>.</p> - -<p>Next in order to the tradition of Ganymede comes -that of Tithonus, who, on account of his beauty, was -carried up, not by the gods at large, to be as one of -them, but by Aurora to become her husband, in which -capacity he remained in the upper regions<a name="FNanchor_741_741" id="FNanchor_741_741"></a><a href="#Footnote_741_741" class="fnanchor">[741]</a>. This is a -step downwards; but the next is a stride. In the third -tradition, so far as is known from the authentic works -of Homer, Æneas is the son of Venus and Anchises, -but without their standing in the relation of husband -and wife. The particulars of the narrative are supplied -in the early Hymn, which perhaps was the more -readily ascribed to Homer, because it was believed to -embody a primitive form of the tradition. Jupiter inspired -Venus with a passion for Anchises, and, after -having arrayed herself in fine vestments and golden -ornaments, she presented herself to him as he was -playing the lyre in solitude on Ida; when the connection -was formed that gave birth to Æneas<a name="FNanchor_742_742" id="FNanchor_742_742"></a><a href="#Footnote_742_742" class="fnanchor">[742]</a>.</p> - -<p>The next fall is the greatest of all: according to the -later tradition, Venus, to obtain a favourable judgment -from Paris (of the next generation to Anchises), pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span>mised -him a wife of splendid beauty and divine extraction, -whom he was to obtain by treachery and -robbery, as well as adultery; and filled him with what -Homer pronounces an evil passion<a name="FNanchor_743_743" id="FNanchor_743_743"></a><a href="#Footnote_743_743" class="fnanchor">[743]</a>.</p> - -<p>The Poet, indeed, tells us nothing of this promise, -which appears to imply powers far greater than any -that the Homeric Aphrodite possessed. But he mentions -the contest, informs us that Venus was the winner, -makes Paris boast of her partiality, and introduces her -as mentioning her own favours to Helen<a name="FNanchor_744_744" id="FNanchor_744_744"></a><a href="#Footnote_744_744" class="fnanchor">[744]</a>.</p> - -<p>Such was the downward course of all in the nature -of man that belonged to the moral sphere, apart from -the cherishing power of Divine Revelation; for the -chronological order of these legends is also that of their -descent, step by step, from innocence to vice.</p> - -<p>Homer, as we have already seen, represents a very -early and chaste condition of human thought. We -have now to observe how strong and genuine, as well -as pure, was his appetite for beauty.</p> - -<p>Since here, as elsewhere, it is not the Poet’s usage -to declare himself by express statements and elaborate -descriptions, we must resort in the usual manner to -secondary evidence; which, however, converging from -many different and opposite quarters upon a single -point, is perhaps more conclusive than mere statement, -because it shows that we are not dealing with a simple -opinion, but with a sentiment, a passion, and a habit, -which penetrated through the Poet’s whole nature.</p> - -<p>I shall notice Homer’s sense of beauty with reference, -first and chiefly, to the human countenance and -form; next, with respect to animals; and thirdly, with -respect to inanimate objects and to combinations of -them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span></p> - -<p>As regards the first and chief branch of this inquiry, -we must notice to what persons, and in what degrees, -Homer assigns beauty, from whom he withholds it; -and how far he considers it to give a title to special -notice, in cases where no other claim to such a distinction -can be made good.</p> - -<p>We may then observe that Homer does not commonly -assign personal beauty to any human person, -who is morally odious. In any questionable instance -where he does so assign it, he seems to follow an historical -tradition, or to be constrained by his subject. -He has covered Thersites with every sort of deformity; -and in the description of the persons and of the twelve -dissolute women among the fifty domestic servants of -Ulysses, there is barely a word that implies beauty<a name="FNanchor_745_745" id="FNanchor_745_745"></a><a href="#Footnote_745_745" class="fnanchor">[745]</a>.</p> - -<p>Melantho indeed, the most conspicuous offender, is -called in the Eighteenth Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_746_746" id="FNanchor_746_746"></a><a href="#Footnote_746_746" class="fnanchor">[746]</a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλλιπάρῃος</span>. But it -seems probable, that he followed a local tradition concerning -her; for, if she had been simply a creation of -his own, he certainly would not have represented her -as the daughter of the old and faithful Dolius<a name="FNanchor_747_747" id="FNanchor_747_747"></a><a href="#Footnote_747_747" class="fnanchor">[747]</a>, who, -with his six sons, bore arms for Ulysses.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Treatment of the beauty of Paris.</i></div> - -<p>So also the beauty of Paris was an inseparable incident -of the Trojan tale. Yet it is remarkable how -little it is brought into relief. Where he is called -beautiful, it is by way of sarcasm and reproach<a name="FNanchor_748_748" id="FNanchor_748_748"></a><a href="#Footnote_748_748" class="fnanchor">[748]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Δύσπαρι, εἶδος ἄριστε.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The only passage, in which his beautiful appearance is -described at all, is from the mouth of Venus<a name="FNanchor_749_749" id="FNanchor_749_749"></a><a href="#Footnote_749_749" class="fnanchor">[749]</a>, to -whom Homer never intrusts anything, to be either -said or done, that he wishes us to regard with favour.</p> - -<p>Compelled, however, to set off the imposing exterior<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span> -of this prince, if only for the purpose of heightening -the contrast with his cowardice in action, he introduces -him flourishing his pair of spears at the commencement -of the Third Iliad; and what is more, when he -again goes forth in his newly burnished arms at the -close of the Sixth, bestows upon him one of the very -noblest of his similes, that of the stall-kept horse, -high fed and sleek in coat, who having broken away -from his manger rushes neighing over the plain<a name="FNanchor_750_750" id="FNanchor_750_750"></a><a href="#Footnote_750_750" class="fnanchor">[750]</a>.</p> - -<p>It was necessary, in order to make up the true portrait -of Paris, that his exterior should be thus splendid, and -his movements imposing; and it was also a part of the -subtle plan, by which Homer made use of words and -appearances to bring up the Trojan chieftains and -people to some kind of level with the Greek. Yet -there is something singular in the fact that Homer, -who does not, I think, repeat his similes in any other -remarkable case, reproduces the whole of this splendid -passage in the Fifteenth Iliad for Hector<a name="FNanchor_751_751" id="FNanchor_751_751"></a><a href="#Footnote_751_751" class="fnanchor">[751]</a>. There -is here, we may rely upon it, some peculiar meaning. -Possibly he grudged the exclusive appropriation of so -splendid a passage to so despicable a person. There is -also another singularity in his mode of proceeding. -The simile is given to Hector without addition, and -the poem proceeds</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς Ἕκτωρ λαιψηρὰ πόδας καὶ γούνατ’ ἐνώμα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But where he applies it to Paris, immediately after the -conclusion of the noble passage he subjoins (Il. vi. 512.),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς υἱὸς Πριάμοιο Πάρις κατὰ Περγάμου ἄκρης</div> - <div class="verse">τεύχεσι παμφαίνων, ὥστ’ ἠλέκτωρ, ἐβεβήκει.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>What is the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠλέκτωρ</span>? It is commonly -taken as equivalent to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠλέκτωρ Ὑπερίων</span>, which means -the Sun. I cannot but believe that Homer means by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span> -it to signify the cock, called in Greek <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀλέκτωρ</span>. The -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠλέκτωρ Ὑπερίων</span>, is used as a simile for Achilles; and it -would be much against the manner of Homer to use the -same simile for a Trojan, and that Trojan Paris. Whereas -by the strut of the cock he may mean to reduce and -modify the effect of the noble figure of the stall-horse.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Beauty of the Greek chiefs and nation.</i></div> - -<p>Achilles, who is not only the bravest but by far the -most powerful man of the host, is also by far the -most beautiful; and the very strongest terms are used -to describe the impression which his appearance produced -on Priam amidst the profoundest sorrow<a name="FNanchor_752_752" id="FNanchor_752_752"></a><a href="#Footnote_752_752" class="fnanchor">[752]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">θαύμαζ’ Ἀχιλῆα,</div> - <div class="verse">ὅσσος ἔην, οἷός τε· θεοῖσι γὰρ ἄντα ἐῴκει.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It may be doubted, whether any other Poet would -have ventured to combine the highest and most -delicate beauty, with a strength and size approaching -the superhuman. It was requisite for Achilles, as the -ideal man, not only to want no great human gift, but -also to have in unmatched degrees whatever gifts he -possessed. The beauty of Achilles is the true counterpart -to the ugliness and deformity of Thersites.</p> - -<p>It appertains to the character of Ulysses, who comes -next to Achilles, that he too should not be wanting in -any thing that pertains to the excellence of human -nature; while completeness and manifoldness is the -specific character of his endowments, as unparalleled -splendour is of those possessed by Achilles. Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_753_753" id="FNanchor_753_753"></a><a href="#Footnote_753_753" class="fnanchor">[753]</a>, -therefore, is also beautiful. Again, the office and function -of Agamemnon require him to be an object capable of -attracting admiration and reverence. He, accordingly, -is of remarkable beauty, but of the kind of beauty that -has in it most of dignity<a name="FNanchor_754_754" id="FNanchor_754_754"></a><a href="#Footnote_754_754" class="fnanchor">[754]</a>;</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></p><div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">καλὸν δ’ οὕτω ἐγὼν οὔπω ἴδον ὀφθαλμοῖσιν,</div> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ οὕτω γεραρόν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Homer never absolutely withholds beauty from any of -his Greek heroes, yet he does not always expressly state -that they possessed it. This endowment is, for instance, -never given to Diomed, but it is ascribed to Ajax in -the Eleventh Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_755_755" id="FNanchor_755_755"></a><a href="#Footnote_755_755" class="fnanchor">[755]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">ὃς ἄριστος ἔην εἶδός τε, δέμας τε,</div> - <div class="verse">τῶν ἄλλων Δαναῶν, μετ’ ἀμύμονα Πηλείωνα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It is probably because Diomed equals Ajax in chivalry, -and very far excels him in mental gifts, that Homer -has thrown weight into the scale of Ajax by assigning -to him expressly, while he is silent about Diomed, the -gift of a beautiful person.</p> - -<p>As with individuals, so does Homer deal with masses. -It may be observed that he has a lower class of -epithets for the Trojans than the Greeks, and never -allows them the benefit of the same national designations. -Individual beauty in men is confined on both -sides to the higher ranks; but no Trojan, however -beautiful, is ever honoured with the title of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθός</span>. -Again, while he never gives to the Trojans as a body -any epithet which describes them as possessed of -beauty, he has assigned several expressions of this order -to the Greek race. Such are the epithets <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καρηκομόωντες</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑλίκωπες</span>, and the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εἶδος ἀγητοὶ</span>, (Il. v. -787. viii. 228.)</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Beauty of Nireus and others.</i></div> - -<p>We have yet to examine how far Homer makes -beauty a title to distinguished notice on behalf of -those who have no other claim. The passage in the -Catalogue, where Nireus is named<a name="FNanchor_756_756" id="FNanchor_756_756"></a><a href="#Footnote_756_756" class="fnanchor">[756]</a>, is highly curious -with reference to this part of the subject. It is as -follows:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span></p><div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Νιρεὺς αὖ Σύμηθεν ἄγε τρεῖς νῆας ἐΐσας,</div> - <div class="verse">Νιρεὺς, Ἀγλαΐης υἱὸς Χαρόποιό τ’ ἄνακτος,</div> - <div class="verse">Νιρεὺς, ὃς κάλλιστος ἀνὴρ ὑπὸ Ἴλιον ἦλθεν</div> - <div class="verse">τῶν ἄλλων Δαναῶν, μετ’ ἀμύμονα Πηλείωνα·</div> - <div class="verse">ἀλλ’ ἀλαπαδνὸς ἔην, παῦρος δέ οἱ εἵπετο λαός.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>These five lines form the largest of the merely personal -descriptions contained in the Catalogue. Yet they -are given to a man, of whom we are frankly told that he -was a poor creature, and that he had but a small following. -Even this does not show the whole strength of -the case.</p> - -<p>1. His ships were only three: no other commander, -having so few, is named at all. The next smallest number -is seven: these were the vessels of Philoctetes, and -they seem to be named on account of his peculiar history -and great merit.</p> - -<p>2. This is the only instance, in which the contingent -supplied by a single and wholly insignificant place is -named by itself.</p> - -<p>3. This is also one among very few cases of an -ordinary birth, where the mother (Aglaïe) is named as -well as the father (Charopos): the others are usually -cases of reputed descent from deities or heroes.</p> - -<p>4. The names given to both parents are taken from -their personal beauty. They thus enhance the title of -the son; and, as we cannot well suppose them connected -with history, they were probably invented by the Poet -for that purpose.</p> - -<p>5. The repetition of the name of Nireus thrice, and -in each case at the beginning of the verse, the most -prominent and emphatic part of it according to the -genius of the Greek hexameter, is plainly intentional.</p> - -<p>6. All this care is taken in the most ingenious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span> -manner to mark a man, who did nothing to enable -Homer to name him in any other part of the Iliad.</p> - -<p>One and one only key is to be found, which will lay -open the cause of these singular provisions: it is Homer’s -intense love of beauty, which made it in his eyes -of itself a title to celebrity. So he determined, apparently, -that the paragon of form should be immortal; -and he has given effect to his determination, for no -reader of the Iliad can pass by the place without remembering -Nireus.</p> - -<p>In a less marked manner, he has given a kindred -emphasis to the case of Nastes, who wore golden ornaments, -and therefore was presumably of strikingly -handsome person. With his brother Amphimachus -he commanded the Carians, and his name is mentioned -thrice (but that of his brother twice only), together -with the fact that he wore gold like a girl<a name="FNanchor_757_757" id="FNanchor_757_757"></a><a href="#Footnote_757_757" class="fnanchor">[757]</a>.</p> - -<p>There is something, as it appears to me, most tender -and refined, in this mode used by Homer of fastening attention -through repetition of the word, which he wishes -gently but firmly to stamp upon the memory. We have -another instance of it in Il. xxii. 127,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">ἅτε παρθένος ἠΐθεός τε,</div> - <div class="verse">παρθένος ἠΐθεός τ’ ὀαρίζετον ἀλλήλοιϊν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There is yet another passage which affords a striking -proof of what may be called the worship of beauty in -Homer. In the Seventeenth Iliad, Euphorbus, the son -of Panthoos, falls by the hand of Menelaus. Homer -gives him great credit for charioteering, the use of the -spear, and other accomplishments; but he performs no -other feat in the poem than that of wounding in the -back the disarmed, and astounded, and heaven-deserted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span> -Patroclus. At best, we must call him a very secondary -personage. Though his personal comeliness was not -defaced like that of Paris by cowardice or vice, still he -was of the same race that in Italy has taken its name -from Zerbino. Yet Homer adorns his death with a -notice, perhaps more conspicuous than any which he -has attached to the death of any warriors of the Iliad, -with the exceptions of Hector, Sarpedon, and Patroclus. -Ten of the most beautiful lines of the poem -are bestowed in lamenting him, chiefly by an unsurpassed -simile, which compares the youth to a tender -olive shoot, the victim, when its blossoms are overcharged -with moisture, of a sudden hurricane. The -Poet was moved to this tenderness by the remembrance -of his beauty, of his hair, like the hair of the Graces, in -its tresses bound with golden and silver clasps<a name="FNanchor_758_758" id="FNanchor_758_758"></a><a href="#Footnote_758_758" class="fnanchor">[758]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Beauty placed among the prime gifts.</i></div> - -<p>Although it is true that Homer eschews with respect -to beauty, as well as in other matters, the didactic mode -of conveying his impressions, yet he has placed them -distinctly on record in the answer of Ulysses to Euryalus. -Speaking not at all of women, but of men, he -places the gift of personal beauty among the prime endowments -that can be received from the providence of -the gods, in a rank to which only two other gifts are -admitted, namely, the power of thought (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόος</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φρένες</span>), -and the power of speech (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορητύς</span>). In the idea of -personal beauty, conveyed under the names <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εἶδος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μορφὴ</span>, -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάρις</span>, evidently included vigour and power, for -it is to his supposed incapacity for athletic exercises<a name="FNanchor_759_759" id="FNanchor_759_759"></a><a href="#Footnote_759_759" class="fnanchor">[759]</a>, -that the discourse has reference. Nor can it be said, -that this full and large appreciation by Homer of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span> -value of bodily excellence, was simply a worldly or a -pagan, as opposed to a Christian, view.</p> - -<p>It is not true, on the one hand, that when we cease -to entertain sufficiently elevated views of the destiny -and prerogatives of the soul, our standard for the body -rises either in proportion or at all. Nor is it true, on the -other, that when we think highly of the soul, we ought -in consequence to think meanly of the body, which is -both its tabernacle and its helpmate. In truth, a somewhat -sickly cast seems to have come over our tone of -thought now for some generations back, the product, -perhaps, in part of careless or emasculated teaching in -the highest matters, and due also in part to the overcrowding -of the several functions of our life. But Homer -distinctly realized to himself what we know faintly or -scarce at all, though nothing is more emphatically or -conspicuously taught by our religion, namely, that the -body is part and parcel of the integer denominated man.</p> - -<p>But the quality of measure ran in rare proportion -through all the conceptions of the Poet. Stature was a -great element of beauty in the view of the ancients for -women as well as for men: and their admiration of -tallness, even in women, is hardly restrained by a limit. -But Homer, who frequently touches the point, has -provided a limit. Among the Læstrygonians, the -women are of enormous size. Two of the crew of -Ulysses, sent forward to make inquiries, are introduced -to the queen. They find her ‘as big as a mountain,’ -and are disgusted at her<a name="FNanchor_760_760" id="FNanchor_760_760"></a><a href="#Footnote_760_760" class="fnanchor">[760]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">τὴν δὲ γυναῖκα</div> - <div class="verse">εὗρον ὅσην τ’ ὄρεος κορυφὴν, κατὰ δ’ ἔστυγον αὐτήν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The large humanity of Homer is also manifested, -among other signs, by his sympathy with high qualities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span> -in the animal creation. There is no passage of deeper -pathos in all his works, not Andromache with her child, -not Priam before Achilles, than that which recounts -the death of the dog Argus<a name="FNanchor_761_761" id="FNanchor_761_761"></a><a href="#Footnote_761_761" class="fnanchor">[761]</a>. The words too are so -calm and still, they seem to grow faint and fainter, -each foot of the verse falls as if it were counting out -the last respirations, and, in effect, we witness that last -slight and scarcely fluttering breath, with which life is -yielded up:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ἄργον δ’ αὖ κατὰ Μοῖρ’ ἔλαβεν μέλανος θανάτοιο,</div> - <div class="verse">αὐτίκ’ ἰδόντ’ Ὀδυσῆα, ἐεικοστῷ ἐνιαυτῷ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We may also trace the same sympathy in minor -forms. As, for instance, where he says Telemachus -went to the Ithacan assembly not unattended<a name="FNanchor_762_762" id="FNanchor_762_762"></a><a href="#Footnote_762_762" class="fnanchor">[762]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">βῆ ῥ’ ἴμεν εἰς ἀγορὴν, παλάμῃ δ’ ἔχε χάλκεον ἔγχος,</div> - <div class="verse">οὐκ οἶος.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We are certainly prepared to hear that some adviser, -either divine or at the least human, some friend or -faithful servant, was by his side: but no—it is simply -that some dogs went with him:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἅμα τῷγε κύνες πόδας ἀργοὶ ἕποντο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>There is no sign, however, that Homer attached the -peculiar idea of beauty to the race of dogs in any -remarkable degree. Indeed, it is only in certain breeds -that the dog can be called by comparison a beautiful -animal. What he always commends is their swiftness; -and Homer’s ideas of beauty were nowhere more lively -than in regard to motion. But we see the Poet’s -feeling for form much more characteristically displayed -in the case to which we shall now proceed.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Beauty in animals, especially horses.</i></div> - -<p>Among other inferences which the poems raise in -respect to Homer himself, it can hardly be doubted that -he was a great lover of horses, and felt their beauty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span> -partially in colour, much more in form, and in movement -most of all.</p> - -<p>This was quite in keeping with the habits of his -country and his race. Both the Trojans and the Greeks -appear not only to have employed horses in such uses -as war, journeys, races, and agricultural labour, but to -have given attention to developing the breeds and -points of the animal. In his Catalogue, Homer, at the -close, invokes the Muse to inform him which were the -best of the horses, as well as of the heroes, on the -Greek side. He constantly uses epithets both for -Trojans and Greeks connected with their successful -care and training of the animal: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὔιππος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὔπωλος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ταχύπωλος</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππόδαμος</span>.</p> - -<p>He not only treasures the traditions connected with -the animal, but treats them as a part of history. Accordingly, -when Diomed desires Sthenelus to make sure -of the horses of Æneas he carefully proceeds to state, -that it is because their sires were of the race that Jupiter -gave to Tros. To them Anchises, without the knowledge -of their owner Laomedon, brought his own mares, -and so obtained a progeny of six: of whom he kept -four himself, and gave two to his son Æneas (Il. v. -265-73) that he might take them to Troy.</p> - -<p>Nay he goes back further yet: where, except in -Homer, should we find a tradition like that of the -mares of Erichthonius, fetched from a time five generations -before his subject? Their children had Boreas -for their sire. Three thousand mothers ranged over the -plains of the Troad, and made their lord the wealthiest -of men. So light was their footstep, that if they skimmed -the sea it touched the tips only of the curling foam; -and if they raced over the cornfield, the ripe ears sustained -their tread without one being broken<a name="FNanchor_763_763" id="FNanchor_763_763"></a><a href="#Footnote_763_763" class="fnanchor">[763]</a>.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span></p> -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to movement, form, and colour.</i></div> - -<p>In other places Homer describes with no less of -sympathetic emotion the vivid and fiery movements of -the animal. The most remarkable of all is the noble -simile of the stall-kept horse, whom every reader seems -to see as with proud head and flowing mane, when he -feels his liberty, he scours the boundless pastures.</p> - -<p>That adaptation, or effort at adaptation, of sound to -sense, which with poets in general (always excepting -especially Dante and Shakespeare,) is a sign that they -have applied their whole force to careful elaboration, -is with Homer only a proof of a fuller and deeper flow -of his sympathies: wherever we find it, we may be sure -that his whole heart is in the passage. In this very simile -how admirable is the transition from the fine stationary -verse that describes the charger’s customary bathe,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εἰωθὼς λούεσθαι ἐϋρρεῖος ποταμοῖο</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>to his rapid and easy bounding over the plain, when -every dactyl marks a spring<a name="FNanchor_764_764" id="FNanchor_764_764"></a><a href="#Footnote_764_764" class="fnanchor">[764]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ῥίμφα ἑ γοῦνα φέρει μετά τ’ ἤθεα καὶ νόμον ἵππων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For this adaptation of metre to sense in connection -with the movement of horses, we may take another -example. To describe Agamemnon dealing destruction -among the routed Trojans on foot, we have a line and -a half of somewhat accelerated but by no means very -rapid movement<a name="FNanchor_765_765" id="FNanchor_765_765"></a><a href="#Footnote_765_765" class="fnanchor">[765]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς ἄρ’ ὑπ’ Ἀτρείδῃ Ἀγαμέμνονι πῖπτε κάρηνα</div> - <div class="verse">Τρώων φευγόντων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But when he comes to the Trojan horses in their flight, -we have two lines, dactylic to the utmost extent that -the metre will allow, except in one half-foot;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">πολλοὶ δ’ ἐριαύχενες ἵπποι</div> - <div class="verse">κείν’ ὄχεα κροτάλιζον ἀνὰ πτολέμοιο γεφύρας,</div> - <div class="verse">ἡνιόχους ποθέοντες ἀμύμονας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then, coming back to the dead charioteers, he visibly -slackens again;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">οἱ δ’ ἐπὶ γαίῃ</div> - <div class="verse">κείατο, γύπεσσιν πολὺ φίλτεροι ἢ ἀλόχοισιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To exhibit numerically the relative distribution of -times in these members of the sentence, we have these -three very different proportions;</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>In the first, 13 long syllables to 8 short.</p> - -<p>In the second, 16 long syllables to 22 short.</p> - -<p>In the third, 11 long syllables to 10 short.</p></div> - -<p>He has imparted much of the same glowing movement -to the speech, which in the Nineteenth Iliad is assigned -to the Immortal horses of Achilles; though the subject -includes a reference to the death of their master<a name="FNanchor_766_766" id="FNanchor_766_766"></a><a href="#Footnote_766_766" class="fnanchor">[766]</a>. -In nearly every line, throughout the passage, that relates -to their own motion, the number of dactyls is at -the maximum, and in the ten lines there are eighty-six -short syllables to sixty long ones; a proportion, which -I doubt our finding elsewhere in Homer, except it be -among the similes, to which Homer seems in many -cases to give a peculiarly elastic prosodial movement.</p> - -<p>Rhesus, king of the Thracians, who arrives at Troy -after the commencement of the Wrath, becomes sufficiently -distinguished for the central point of interest -in the Doloneia, by virtue chiefly of his horses. They -are the most beautiful, says Dolon, and the largest that -I have ever seen<a name="FNanchor_767_767" id="FNanchor_767_767"></a><a href="#Footnote_767_767" class="fnanchor">[767]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">λευκότεροι χιόνος, θείειν δ’ ἀνέμοισιν ὁμοῖοι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The justice of this panegyric is corroborated by the -emphatic expression of Nestor, who pronounces them,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αἰνῶς ἀκτίνεσσιν ἐοικότες ἠελίοιο·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and their unparalleled excellence forms the subject<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> -of the speech of the old king, on the return of Ulysses -and Diomed to the camp<a name="FNanchor_768_768" id="FNanchor_768_768"></a><a href="#Footnote_768_768" class="fnanchor">[768]</a>.</p> - -<p>It is not only, however, in elaborate pictures that -Homer shows his feeling for horses, but also, and not -less markedly, in minor touches. Does he not speak -with the manifest feeling of a skilled admirer of the -animal, when he describes the pair driven by Eumelus, -rapid as birds, the same in shade of colour, the same -in years, the same to a hair’s breadth in height across -their backs<a name="FNanchor_769_769" id="FNanchor_769_769"></a><a href="#Footnote_769_769" class="fnanchor">[769]</a>?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ποδώκεας, ὄρνιθας ὣς,</div> - <div class="verse">ὄτριχας, οἰέτεας, σταφύλῃ ἐπὶ νῶτον ἐΐσας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, we are met by the same feeling which, in a -bolder flight, made the horses of Rhesus weep, when -Pandarus falls headlong from the chariot of Æneas, -and his arms rattle over him in death. The horses, -instead of plunging or starting off, with a finer feeling -tremble by the corpse<a name="FNanchor_770_770" id="FNanchor_770_770"></a><a href="#Footnote_770_770" class="fnanchor">[770]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16">παρέτρεσσαν δέ οἱ ἵπποι</div> - <div class="verse">ὠκύποδες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We may trace the same disposition, under a lighter -and more amusing form, in what had already passed -between Æneas and Pandarus. Pandarus had excused -himself for not having brought a chariot and horses to -Troy, on account of his fears about finding forage for -them where such crowds were to be gathered into a -small space; at the same time describing, rather boastfully, -his father Lycaon’s eleven carriages with a pair -for each. (Il. v. 192-203.) Æneas replies by inviting -him into his chariot when he will see what Trojan -horses are like. Then, he continues, do you fight, and I -will drive; or, as you may choose, do you drive, and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span> -will fight. Pandarus immediately replies, that Æneas -had better by all means be the driver of his own horses.</p> - -<p>Then again, Homer will have the utmost care taken -of them; and, so to speak, he looks to it himself. When -he describes them as unemployed, he specifies their -food; those of Achilles during the Wrath stand<a name="FNanchor_771_771" id="FNanchor_771_771"></a><a href="#Footnote_771_771" class="fnanchor">[771]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">λωτὸν ἐρεπτόμενοι ἐλεόθρεπτόν τε σέλινον.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But those of Lycaon, which had remained at home, -were<a name="FNanchor_772_772" id="FNanchor_772_772"></a><a href="#Footnote_772_772" class="fnanchor">[772]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">κρῖ λευκὸν ἐρεπτόμενοι καὶ ὀλύρας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To each he gives the appropriate provender: to the -former, in an encampment, what the grassy marsh by -its side afforded: to the latter, in a king’s palace, the -grain, or hard food, of their proper home.</p> - -<p>And so in the night-adventure of the Tenth Book, -when Ulysses drags away the bodies of those Thracians -whom Diomed has slain, it is to make a clear -path for the horses of Rhesus which were to be carried -off, that they may not take fright from treading on -corpses<a name="FNanchor_773_773" id="FNanchor_773_773"></a><a href="#Footnote_773_773" class="fnanchor">[773]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">νεκροῖς ἀμβαίνοντες· ἀήθεσσον γὰρ ἔτ’ αὐτῶν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Throughout the chariot-race, in the Twenty-third Book, -we find them uppermost in the Poet’s mind, though -the drivers, being his prime heroes, are not wholly -forgotten.</p> - -<p>Even as to colour, of which Homer’s perceptions -appear to have been so vague, it may be remarked, -that he employs it somewhat more freely with reference -to horses, than to other objects having definite form -or powers of locomotion.</p> - -<p>But his liveliest conceptions of them are with respect -to motion, form, and feelings: and I suppose there is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> -no poem like the Iliad for characteristic touches in respect -to any of the three.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Beauty in inanimate nature.</i></div> - -<p>It has been much debated whether the ancients -generally, and whether Homer in particular, had any -distinct idea of beauty in landscape.</p> - -<p>It may be admitted, even in respect to Homer, that -his similes, to which one would naturally look for -proof, less commonly refer to the eye than to other -faculties. They commonly turn upon sound, motion, -force, or multitude: rarely, in comparison, upon colour, -or even upon form; still more rarely upon colour or -form in such combinations as to constitute what we -call the picturesque.</p> - -<p>It seems to me, that we may draw the best materials -of a demonstration in this case from comparing his descriptions -of the form of scenery by means of the -outlines of countries, with his use of other epithets -which he employs to denote beauty.</p> - -<p>The country of Lacedæmon was mountainous, and -it is hence termed by Homer in the Odyssey and in -the Catalogue, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κοιλή</span>. (Il. ii. 581, Od. iv. 1.)</p> - -<p>But it is also termed by him <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινὴ</span> (Il. iii. 239), -and this, it may be observed, in a speech of Helen’s; -to whom, while she was at Troy, the image of it in -memory could hardly, perhaps, be agreeable from any -moral association. We are, therefore, led to refer it -to the physical conformation or beauty of the district.</p> - -<p>Next, we have pretty clear proof that in Homer’s -mind the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινὴ</span> was one proper to describe -beauty in the strictest sense. For he says of Helen, -with regard to her daughter Hermione<a name="FNanchor_774_774" id="FNanchor_774_774"></a><a href="#Footnote_774_774" class="fnanchor">[774]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ἐγείνατο παῖδ’ ἐρατεινὴν,</div> - <div class="verse">Ἑρμιόνην, ἣ εἶδος ἔχε χρυσῆς Ἀφροδίτης.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span></p> -<p>‘She had a lovely (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινὴν</span>) daughter, endowed with -the beauty of golden Aphrodite.’ And I observe but -few passages in Homer, perhaps only one (Od. xxiii. -300), when <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινὸς</span> does not naturally and properly -bear this sense. A sense etymologically analogous to -our own use of the word <i>lovely</i>, which we employ to indicate -not only beauty, but a high degree of it.</p> - -<p>It therefore appears to be clear that Homer called -Lacedæmon <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινὴ</span>, because it was shaped in mountain -and valley, and because countries so formed present -a beautiful appearance to the eye, as compared -with countries of other forms less marked. It is applied -to Emathia (Il. xiv. 225) and to Scheria (Od. vii. -79), both mountainous; to the city Ilios, (Il. v. 210), -which stood on ground high and partially abrupt near -the roots of Ida; and I do not find it in any place of -the poems associated with flat lands.</p> - -<p>The other instance which I shall cite seems to present -the argument in a complete form, within the compass -of a single line.</p> - -<p>When describing Ithaca in the Odyssey, Telemachus -says it is<a name="FNanchor_775_775" id="FNanchor_775_775"></a><a href="#Footnote_775_775" class="fnanchor">[775]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αἰγίβοτος, καὶ μᾶλλον ἐπήρατος ἱπποβότοιο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here we may assume that by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰγίβοτος</span>, goat-feeding, he -means mountainous, and even sharp and rocky; moreover -consequently, in comparison, barren, so that it -could not be agreeable in the sense of being profitable. -On the other hand, the horse is an animal ill-suited to -range among rocks; and by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππόβοτος</span> Homer always -means a district or country sufficiently open and plain -to be suitable for feeding horses in numbers. Now, in -saying that Arran is more <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπήρατος</span> than southern Lancashire, -we should leave no doubt upon the mind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span> -any reader as to the meaning; which must surely be -that it offers more beauty to the eye. Just such a -comparison does Homer make of the scenery of Ithaca -as it was with what it would have been, if the island -had been flat.</p> - -<p>I ought however to notice the very forced interpretation -of Damm, which is this: <i><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μᾶλλον ἐπήρατος</span>, sc. -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐμοὶ</span>, <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">nam est patria mea; et ad</span> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μᾶλλον</span> subintelligit <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοῦ -σοῦ Ἄργεος φίλη μοι ἔστι</span></i>.</p> - -<p>Homer was better versed in the art of wedding -words to thought, than such an interpretation supposes. -For, according to it, the thought of Homer was this; -‘Though you rule over broad and open Argos, my mountainous -Ithaca is dearer to me, <i>because it is my country</i>.’ -So that he has left out the point of the sentence, without -the faintest trace to guide his reader. The idea of -the sentence, which is prolonged through many verses, -turns entirely on the difference between an open and a -steep rocky country as such, and not in the least on -native attachments. And Telemachus, who is lauding -the richness and fertility of Argos, and apologizing for -the barrenness of Ithaca, not ungracefully, in passing, -throws in, by way of compensation, the element of -beauty, as one possessed by Ithaca, and as one which it -must miss if it were flat.</p> - -<p>Indeed, we here trace the usual refinement of Homer -in this, that Telemachus does not say, True, your Argos -is rich, but my Ithaca is picturesque: but, after commending -the fertility of broad Argos, he says, ‘In -Ithaca we have no broad runs<a name="FNanchor_776_776" id="FNanchor_776_776"></a><a href="#Footnote_776_776" class="fnanchor">[776]</a>, and nothing like a -meadow: it will feed nothing but goats, yet it is more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span> -picturesque than if <i>it</i>, a little speck of that kind, were -flat and open.’</p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπήρατος</span> is less frequently used in Homer -than <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρατεινός</span>; but we have it in six places besides this. -There is only one of them where it is capable of meaning -dear, in connection with the idea of country<a name="FNanchor_777_777" id="FNanchor_777_777"></a><a href="#Footnote_777_777" class="fnanchor">[777]</a>. In another -it means enjoyable or splendid, being applied to -the banquet<a name="FNanchor_778_778" id="FNanchor_778_778"></a><a href="#Footnote_778_778" class="fnanchor">[778]</a>. In the other places it is applied to a -town on the Shield, a cavern in Ithaca (twice), and the -garments put upon Venus in Cyprus; and in those four -places it can only mean fair or beautiful.</p> - -<p>We are not, then, justified in limiting Homer’s sense -of natural beauty to what was associated with utility<a name="FNanchor_779_779" id="FNanchor_779_779"></a><a href="#Footnote_779_779" class="fnanchor">[779]</a>. -On the contrary, it appears plainly to extend to beauty -proper, and even to that kind of beauty in nature -which we of the present day most love.</p> - -<p>I have dealt thus far with the most doubtful part of the -question, and have ventured to dissent from Mr. Ruskin, -whose authority I admit, and of whose superior insight, -as well as of his extraordinary powers of expression, I -am fully conscious.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Germ of feeling for the picturesque.</i></div> - -<p>Mr. Ruskin thinks<a name="FNanchor_780_780" id="FNanchor_780_780"></a><a href="#Footnote_780_780" class="fnanchor">[780]</a> that ‘Homer has no trace of -feeling for what we call the picturesque’; that Telemachus -apologizes for the scenery of Ithaca; and that -rocks are never loved but as caves. I think that the -expressions I have produced from the text show that -these propositions cannot be sustained. At the same -time I admit that the feeling with Homer is one in the -bud only: as, indeed, until within a very few generations, -it has lain undeveloped among ourselves. Homer may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span> -have been the father of this sentiment for his nation, -as he was of so much besides. But the plant did not -grow up kindly among those who followed him.</p> - -<p>I assent entirely, on the other hand, to what Mr. -Ruskin has said respecting his sense of orderly beauty -in common nature. The garden of Alcinous is truly -Dutch in its quadrangular conceptions; but it is plain -that the Poet means us to regard it as truly beautiful<a name="FNanchor_781_781" id="FNanchor_781_781"></a><a href="#Footnote_781_781" class="fnanchor">[781]</a>. -Symmetry, serenity, regularity, adopted from the forms -of living beauty which were before him, enter largely -into Homer’s conceptions of one form, at least, of inanimate -beauty.</p> - -<p>The scenery of the cave of Calypso<a name="FNanchor_782_782" id="FNanchor_782_782"></a><a href="#Footnote_782_782" class="fnanchor">[782]</a> is less restrained -in its cast, than is the garden in Scheria; but even -here Homer introduces four fountains, which compose -a regular figure, and are evidently meant to supply -an element of form which was required by the fashionable -standard.</p> - -<p>Another element of landscape, as we understand it, -is, that the natural objects which it represents should -be in rather extensive combination; and our established -traditions would also require that the view of them -should be modified by the rendering of the atmosphere, -especially with reference to the scale of distances.</p> - -<p>It is very difficult to find instances of extended landscape -in Homer. But I think that we have at least -one, in the famed simile, where he compares the Trojan -watchfires on the plain to the calm night, which -by the light of moon and stars exhibits a breadth of -prospect to the rejoicing shepherd’s eye. Here are certainly -tranquillity and order; but with them we seem -also to have both extent and atmosphere; to which -even bold and even broken outline must be added by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span> -those who, like myself, are not prepared to surrender to -the destroying <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄβελος</span> the line<a name="FNanchor_783_783" id="FNanchor_783_783"></a><a href="#Footnote_783_783" class="fnanchor">[783]</a></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἔκ τ’ ἔφανεν πᾶσαι σκοπιαὶ, καὶ πρώονες ἄκροι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Upon the whole, considering Homer’s early date, -and the very late development among the moderns of -a taste for scenery of the picturesque and romantic -order, I do not know that we are entitled even at -first sight to challenge him as inferior to any modern -of analogous date in this province. Yet we may fairly -pronounce that he is inferior to himself; that is to say, -he appears to have a sense of beauty, in the region of -inanimate nature, certainly less keen in proportion than -that, with which he looked upon the animated creation.</p> - -<p>What is deficient in him with respect to landscape -may however, in all likelihood, be more justly referred -to positive than to negative causes.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Causes adverse to a more developed feeling.</i></div> - -<p>It may be questioned whether the disposition to -appreciate still nature, especially in large and elaborated -combinations, may not in part depend upon conditions -that were not to be found in the age of Homer. I -should say, if the expression may be allowed, that we -of this generation take landscape medicinally. Human -life grows with the course of ages; and, especially in -our age, it has grown to be excited and hurried. But -nature has a reacting tendency towards repose; and, -even in the case of the grosser stimulants, it seems to -be their soothing power which most helps to recommend -them. Besides the fact, however, that we have -wants which the Greeks had not, this subject may be -regarded in a broader view.</p> - -<p>The mind of Homer and the mind of his age were -not addicted even to contemplation, far less to introspection. -Of ideas properly subjective there are very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span> -few indeed to be found in the poems. We have -one such furnished by the passage where he equates -thought to a wing, in a simile for the swift ships of the -Phæacians,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὡσεὶ πτέρον ἠὲ νόημα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And another, the most remarkable that he supplies, -when in more detail he uses the motion of a thought -for an illustration of the rapid flight of Juno<a name="FNanchor_784_784" id="FNanchor_784_784"></a><a href="#Footnote_784_784" class="fnanchor">[784]</a>.</p> - -<p>Even when it became speculative, the Greek mind did -not give a subjective turn to its speculations. It was -probably Christianity which, by the stimulus it applied -to the general conscience, first gave mankind the introspective -habit on a large scale; and mixed causes may -often render the tendency excessive and morbid. But -the tendency of the heroic age, standing at its maximum -in Homer, was to pour life outward, nay almost to force -it into every thing. The fountain from within overflowed; -and its surplus went to make inanimate nature breathe. -The profuse and easy fertility of Homer in simile surely -of itself demonstrates a wonderful observation and appreciation -of nature; but, as has been remarked, these -similes are very rarely indeed <i>still</i> similes. They delight -in sound, in multitude, above all in motion. The -automatic chairs of Vulcan, the living theatre of the -Shield of Achilles, that oldest mirror of our world, the -bounding armour of the same hero, what are all these -but the proofs of that redundant energy of life, whose -first resistless impulse it was to carry the vital fire -of Prometheus into every object that it encountered, -and which, not yet having felt the palsying touch of -exhaustion, lay under no necessity of curative provisions -for repose? Therefore, while admitting the defect of -Homer with respect to colour, and admitting also that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> -landscape (if we are to understand by it the elaborate -combination of natural objects reaching over considerable -distances) is a great addition to the enjoyment -and wealth of mankind, I think the capital explanation -of the question raised is to be found, not in the want -of any space, or of any faculty, in the mind of Homer, -but in the fact that the space and the faculties were -all occupied with more active and vivifying functions; -that the beautiful forms in nature, which we see as -beautiful forms only, were to him the hem of the -garments, as it were, of that life with which all nature -teemed. Accordingly, the general rule of the poems is, -that where we should be passive, he is active; that which -we think it much to contemplate with satisfaction, he is -ever at work, with a bolder energy and a keener -pleasure, to vivify. We deal with external nature, as -it were unrifled; he saw in it only the residue which -remained to it, after it had at every point thrown off -its cream in supernatural formations. His uplifting and -vitalizing process is everywhere at work. Animate -nature is raised even to divinity; and inanimate nature -is borne upward into life.</p> - -<p>If, then, Homer sees less in the mere sensible forms -of natural objects than we do, it probably is in a great -degree because the genius of his people and his own -genius had taught him to invest them with a soul, which -drew up into itself the best of their attractions. Mr. -Ruskin most justly tells us, with reference to the sea, -that he cuts off from the material object the sense of -something living, and fashions it into a great abstract -image of a sea-power<a name="FNanchor_785_785" id="FNanchor_785_785"></a><a href="#Footnote_785_785" class="fnanchor">[785]</a>. Yet it is not, I think, quite true, -that the Poet leaves in the watery mass no element of -life. On the contrary, I should say the key to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span> -whole treatment of external nature is to be found in -this one proposition: wheresoever we look for figure, -he looks for life. His waves (as well as his fire) when -they are stirred<a name="FNanchor_786_786" id="FNanchor_786_786"></a><a href="#Footnote_786_786" class="fnanchor">[786]</a>, shout, in the very word (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰάχειν</span>) that -he gives to the Assembly of Achæans: when they -break in foam, they put on the plume of the warrior’s -helmet<a name="FNanchor_787_787" id="FNanchor_787_787"></a><a href="#Footnote_787_787" class="fnanchor">[787]</a> (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κορύσσεσθαι</span>): when their lord drives over -them, they open wide for joy<a name="FNanchor_788_788" id="FNanchor_788_788"></a><a href="#Footnote_788_788" class="fnanchor">[788]</a>: and when he strides -upon the field of battle, they, too, boil upon the shore, in -an irrepressible sympathy with his effort and emotion<a name="FNanchor_789_789" id="FNanchor_789_789"></a><a href="#Footnote_789_789" class="fnanchor">[789]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SECT. III.<br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>Homer’s perceptions and use of Number.</i></span></h3> - -<p>While the faculties of Homer were in many respects -both intense and refined in their action, beyond -all ordinary, perhaps we might say beyond all modern, -examples, there were other points in which they bear -the marks of having been less developed than is now -common even among the mass of many civilized nations. -In the power of abstraction and distinct introspective -contemplation, it is not improbable that he was inferior -to the generality of educated men in the present day. -In some other lower faculties, he is probably excelled by -the majority of the population of this country, nay even -by many of the children in its schools. I venture to -specify, as examples of the last-named proposition, the -faculties of number, and of colour. It may be true of -one or both of these, that a certain indistinctness in the -perception of them is incidental everywhere to the early -stages of society. But yet it is surprising to find it -where, as with Homer, it accompanies a remarkable -quickness and maturity not only of great mental powers, -but of certain other perceptions more akin to number -and colour, such as those of motion, of sound, and of -form. But let us proceed to examine, in the first place, -the former of these two subjects.</p> - -<p>It may be observed at the outset, that probably none -of us are aware to how great an extent our aptitudes -with respect to these matters are traditionary, and dependent -therefore not upon ourselves, but upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span> -acquisitions made by the human race before our birth, -and upon the degree in which those acquisitions have -circulated, and have been as it were filtered through and -through the community, so as to take their place among -the elementary ideas, impressions, and habits of the population. -For such parts of human knowledge, as have -attained to this position, are usually gained by each -successive generation through the medium of that insensible -training, which begins from the very earliest -infancy, and which precedes by a great interval all the -systematic, and even all the conscious, processes of education. -Nor am I for one prepared by any means to deny -that there may be an actual ‘traducianism’ in the case: -on the contrary, in full consistency with the teaching -of experience, we may believe that the acquired aptitudes -of one generation may become, in a greater or -a less degree, the inherited and inborn aptitudes of -another.</p> - -<p>We must, therefore, reckon upon finding a set of -marked differences in the relative degrees of advancement -among different human faculties in different stages -of society, which shall be simply referable to the source -now pointed out, and distinct altogether from such variations -as are referable to other causes. It is not difficult -to admit this to be true in general: but the question, -whether in the case before us it applies to number and -colour, can of course only be decided by an examination -of the Homeric text.</p> - -<p>Yet, before we enter upon this examination, let us endeavour -to throw some further light upon the general -aspect of the proposition, which has just been laid down.</p> - -<p>Of all visible things, colour is to our English eye the -most striking. Of all ideas, as conceived by the English -mind, number appears to be the most rigidly definite,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span> -so that we adopt it as a standard for reducing all other -things to definiteness; as when we say that this field -or this house is five, ten, or twenty times as large as -that. Our merchants, and even our schoolchildren, are -good calculators. So that there is a sense of something -strikingly paradoxical, to us in particular, when we -speak of Homer as having had only indeterminate ideas -of these subjects.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Conceptions of Number not always definite.</i></div> - -<p>There are however two practical instances, which -may be cited to illustrate the position, that number is -not a thing to be as matter of course definitely conceived -in the mind. One of these is the case of very young -children. To them the very lowest numbers are soon -intelligible, but all beyond the lowest are not so, and only -present a vague sense of multitude, that cannot be severed -into its component parts. The distinctive mark of a clear -arithmetical conception is, that the mind at one and the -same time embraces the two ideas, first of the aggregate, -secondly of each one of the units which make it -up. This double operation of the brain becomes more -arduous, as we ascend higher in the scale. I have -heard a child, put to count beads or something of the -sort, reckon them thus: ‘One, two, three, four, a hundred.’ -The first words express his ideas, the last one -his despair. Up to four, his mind could contain the -joint ideas of unity and of severalty, but not beyond; -so he then passed to an expression wholly general, and -meant to express a sense like that of the word multitude.</p> - -<p>But though the transition from number definitely conceived -to number without bounds is like launching into -a sea, yet the conception of multitude itself is in one -sense susceptible of degree. We may have the idea of -a limited, or of an unbounded, multitude. The essen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span>tial -distinction of the first is, that it might possibly be -counted; the notion of the second is, that it is wholly -beyond the power of numeration to overtake. Probably -even the child, to whom the word ‘hundred’ expressed -an indefinite idea, would have been faintly sensible of -a difference in degree between ‘hundred’ and ‘million,’ -and would have known that the latter expressed something -larger than the former. The circumscribing outline -of the idea apprehended is loose, but still there is -such an outline. The clearness of the double conception -is indeed effaced; the whole only, and not the whole -together with each part, is contemplated by the mind; -but still there is a certain clouded sense of a real difference -in magnitude, as between one such whole and -another.</p> - -<p>And this leads me to the second of the two illustrations, -to which reference has been made. That loss of -definiteness in the conception of number, which the -child in our day suffers before he has counted over his -fingers, the grown man suffers also, though at a point commonly -much higher in the scale. What point that may -be, depends very much upon the particular habits and -aptitudes of the individual. A student in a library of a -thousand volumes, an officer before his regiment of a -thousand men upon parade, may have a pretty clear -idea of the units as well as of the totals; but when we -come to a thousand times a thousand, or a thousand -times a million, all view of the units, for most men, -probably for every man, is lost: the million for the -grown man is in a great degree like the hundred for -the child. The numerical term has now become essentially -a symbol; not only as every word is by its essence -a symbol in reference to the idea it immediately -denotes; but, in a further sense, it is a symbol of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span> -symbol, for that idea which it denotes, is itself symbolical: -it is a conventional representation of a certain -vast number of units, far too great to be individually -contemplated and apprehended. As we rise higher -still from millions, say for example, into the class of -billions, the vagueness increases. The million is now -become a sort of new unit, and the relation of two -millions to one million, is thus pretty clearly apprehended -as being double; but this too becomes obscured -as we mount, and even (for example) the relation of -quantity between ten billions of wheat-corns, and an -hundred billions of the same, is far less determinately -conveyed to the mind, than the relation between ten -wheat-corns and one. At this high level, the nouns of -number approximate to the indefinite character of the -class of algebraic symbols called known quantities.</p> - -<p>In proportion as our conception of numbers is definite, -the idea of them, instead of being suited for an address -to the imagination, remains unsuited for poetic handling, -and thrives within the sphere of the understanding only. -But when we pass beyond the scale of determinate into -that of practically indeterminate amounts, then the -use of numbers becomes highly poetical. I would quote, -as a very noble example of this use of number, a verse -in the Revelations of St. John. ‘And I beheld, and I -heard the voice of many angels round about the throne, -and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them -was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of -thousands<a name="FNanchor_790_790" id="FNanchor_790_790"></a><a href="#Footnote_790_790" class="fnanchor">[790]</a>.’ As a proof of the power of this fine passage, -I would observe, that the descent from ten thousand -times ten thousand to thousands of thousands, -though it is in fact numerically very great, has none of -the chilling effect of anticlimax, because these numbers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span> -are not arithmetically conceived, and the last member -of the sentence is simply, so to speak, the trail of light -which the former draws behind it.</p> - -<p>Now we must keep clearly before our minds the idea, -that this poetical and figurative use of number among -the Greeks at least preceded what I may call its calculative -use. We shall find in Homer nothing that -can strictly be called calculation. He repeatedly gives -us what may be termed the factors of a sum in multiplication; -but he never even partially combines them, even -as they are combined for example in Cowper’s ballad,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Though wedded we have been</div> - <div class="verse">These <i>twice ten</i> tedious years, yet we</div> - <div class="verse indent2">No holiday have seen.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Reference has been made to the convenience which -we find in using number as a measure of quantity, and -as a means of comparing things of every species in -their own kind. But we never meet with this use of -it in Homer. He has not even the words necessary to -enable him to say, ‘This house is five times as large as -that.’ If he had the idea to express, he would say, Five -houses, each as large as that, would hardly be equal to -this. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τρὶς</span> may be called an adverb of multiplication; -but it is never used for these comparisons. Indeed, -Damm observes, that in a large majority of instances -it signifies an indefinite number, not a precise -one. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τετράκις</span> is found only once, and in a sense wholly -indeterminate: the passage is<a name="FNanchor_791_791" id="FNanchor_791_791"></a><a href="#Footnote_791_791" class="fnanchor">[791]</a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τρισμάκαρες Δαναοὶ καὶ -τετράκις</span>. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πεντάκις</span> does not even exist. Ajax lifts a -stone, not ‘twice as large as a mortal of to-day could -raise’, but so large that it would require two such mortals -to raise it. All Homer’s numerical expressions are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span> -in the most elementary forms; such forms, as are without -composition, and refuse all further analysis.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Greek estimate of the discovery of Number.</i></div> - -<p>His use of number appears to have been confined to -simple addition: and it is probable that all the higher -numbers which we find in the poems, were figurative and -most vaguely conceived. If we are able to make good -the proof of these propositions from the Homeric text, -we shall then be well able to understand the manner -in which Numeration, or the science of number, is -spoken of by the Greeks of the historic age as a marvellous -invention. It appears in Æschylus, as among the -very greatest of the discoveries of Prometheus<a name="FNanchor_792_792" id="FNanchor_792_792"></a><a href="#Footnote_792_792" class="fnanchor">[792]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">καὶ μὴν ἀριθμὸν, ἔξοχον σοφισμάτων,</div> - <div class="verse">ἐξεῦρον αὐτοῖς·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>he goes on to add,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent12">γραμμάτων τε συνθέσεις.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So that the use of numbers by rule was to the Greek -mind as much a discovery as the letters of the alphabet, -and is even described here as a greater one: much as in -later times men have viewed the use of logarithms, or -of the method of fluxions or the calculus. In full conformity -with this are the superlative terms, in which -Plato speaks of number. Number, in fact, seems to be -exhibited in great part of the Greek philosophy, as if it -had actually been the guide of the human mind in its -progress towards realizing all the great and cardinal -ideas of order, measure, proportion, and relation.</p> - -<p>Up to what point human intelligence, in the time of -Homer, was able to push the process of simple addition, -we do not precisely know. It is not, however, -hastily to be assumed that, in any one of his faculties, -Homer was behind his age; and it is safer to believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span> -that the poems, even in these points, represent it advantageously. -Now, in one place at least, we have a primitive -account of a process of addition. The passage is in -the Fourth Odyssey, where Menelaus relates, how Proteus -counted upon his fingers the number of his seals<a name="FNanchor_793_793" id="FNanchor_793_793"></a><a href="#Footnote_793_793" class="fnanchor">[793]</a>. -That it was a certain particular number is obvious, -because when four of them had been killed by Eidothee, -their skins were put upon Menelaus and his three comrades, -and the four Greeks were then counted into the -herd, so that the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριθμὸς</span> here evidently means a definite -total. This addition by Proteus, however, was not -addition in the proper arithmetical sense, and would be -more properly called enumeration: it was probably -effected simply by adding each unit singly, in succession, -to the others, with the aid of the fingers, -(proved through the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πεμπάσσεται</span>,) but not by the -aid of any scale or combination of units, either decimal -or quinal. In the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεκὰς</span> we have, indeed, the first step -towards a decimal scale; but we have not even that in -the case of the number five, there being no <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πεντὰς</span> or -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πεμπτάς</span>. The meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πεμπάσσεται</span> evidently is, -not that he arranged the numeration in fives, but that, -by means of the fingers of one hand, employed upon -those of the other, he assisted the process of simple -enumeration.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Highest numerals of the poems.</i></div> - -<p>Homer’s highest numeral is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μύριοι</span>. He describes -the Myrmidons as being <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μύριοι</span><a name="FNanchor_794_794" id="FNanchor_794_794"></a><a href="#Footnote_794_794" class="fnanchor">[794]</a>, though, if we assume a -mean strength of about eighty-five for their crews, the -force would but little have exceeded four thousand: -and at the <i>maximum</i> of one hundred and twenty for -each ship, it would only come to six thousand. Again, -Homer uses the expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μύρια ᾔδη</span>, to denote a -person of instructed and accomplished mind<a name="FNanchor_795_795" id="FNanchor_795_795"></a><a href="#Footnote_795_795" class="fnanchor">[795]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span></p> - -<p>Next to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μύρια</span>, the highest numerals employed in -the poems are those contained in the passage where the -Poet says that the howl of Mars, on being wounded by -Diomed, was as loud as the shout of an army of nine -thousand or ten thousand men<a name="FNanchor_796_796" id="FNanchor_796_796"></a><a href="#Footnote_796_796" class="fnanchor">[796]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὅσσον τ’ ἐννεάχιλοι ἐπίαχον ἢ δεκάχιλοι</div> - <div class="verse">ἀνέρες ἐν πολέμῳ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But it is clear that the expressions are purely poetical -and figurative. For he never comes near the use of -such high numbers elsewhere; and yet it obviously lay -in his path to use these, and higher numbers still, when -he was describing the strength of the Greek and Trojan -armies.</p> - -<p>The highest Homeric number, after those which have -been named, is found in the three thousand horses of -Erichthonius. This we must also consider poetical, -because it is so far beyond the ordinary range of the -poems, and in some degree likewise because of the obvious -unlikelihood of his having possessed that particular -number of mares<a name="FNanchor_797_797" id="FNanchor_797_797"></a><a href="#Footnote_797_797" class="fnanchor">[797]</a>.</p> - -<p>Only thrice, besides the instances already quoted, does -Homer use the fourth power of numbers; it is in the -case of the single thousand. A thousand measures of -wine were sent by Euneos as a present to Agamemnon -and Menelaus. A thousand watch-fires were kindled -by the Trojans on the plain. Iphidamas, having given -an hundred oxen in order to obtain his wife, then -promised a thousand goats and sheep out of his countless -herds<a name="FNanchor_798_798" id="FNanchor_798_798"></a><a href="#Footnote_798_798" class="fnanchor">[798]</a>. In all these three cases, it is more than -doubtful whether the word thousand is not roughly -and loosely used as a round number. The combination -of the thousand sheep and goats with the hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span> -oxen, immediately awakens the recollection that even -the Homeric hecatomb, though meaning etymologically -an hundred oxen, practically meant nothing of the kind, -but only what we should call a lot or batch of oxen. -Again, it is so obviously improbable that the Trojans -should in an hurried bivouac have lighted just a thousand -fires, and placed just fifty men by each, that we -may take this passage as plainly figurative, and as conveying -no more than a very rude approximation, of such -a kind as would be inadmissible where the practice of -calculation is familiar. It is then most likely, that in the -remaining one of the three passages, the Poet means only -to convey that a large and liberal present of wine was -sent by Euneus, as the consideration for his being allowed -to trade with the army. There is certainly more of approximation -to a definite use of the single thousand, -than of the three, the nine, or the ten: but this difference -in definiteness is in reality a main point in the -evidence. Most of all does this become palpable, when -we consider how strange is in itself the omission to -state the numbers of the combatants on either side of -this great struggle: an omission so strange, of what -would be to ourselves a fact of such elementary and -primary interest, that we can hardly account for it otherwise -than by the admission, that to the Greeks of the -Homeric age the totals of the armies, even if the Poet -himself could have reckoned them, would have been -unintelligible.</p> - -<p>Among all the numbers found in Homer, the highest -which he appears to use with a clearly determinate -meaning, is that of the three hundred and sixty fat -hogs under the care of Eumæus in Ithaca<a name="FNanchor_799_799" id="FNanchor_799_799"></a><a href="#Footnote_799_799" class="fnanchor">[799]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οἱ δὲ τριηκόσιοί τε καὶ ἑξήκοντα πέλοντο.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span></p> -<p>The reason for considering this number as having a -pretty definite sense in the Poet’s mind (quite a different -matter, let it be borne in mind, from the question -whether the circumstance is meant to be taken as -historical) is, that it stands in evident association with -the number of days, as it was probably then reckoned, -in the year. It seems plain that he meant to describe -the whole circle of the year, where he says, that for -each of the days and nights which Jupiter has given, -or, in his own words<a name="FNanchor_800_800" id="FNanchor_800_800"></a><a href="#Footnote_800_800" class="fnanchor">[800]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὅσσαι γὰρ νύκτες τε καὶ ἡμέραι ἐκ Διός εἰσιν,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>the greedy Suitors are not contented with the slaughter -of one animal, or even of two. Eumæus then gives an -account of the wealth of Ulysses in live stock, both -within the isle and on the mainland, from whence the -animals were supplied: and adds, that from the Ithacan -store a goatherd took down daily a fat goat, while he -himself as often sent down a fat hog. I have dwelt -thus particularly on the detail of this case, because it -may fairly be inferred from the correspondence between -the number of the hogs and the days of the -year, that for once, at all events, the Poet intended to -speak, though somewhat at random, yet in a degree -arithmetically, and that of so high a number as 360.</p> - -<p>There are other cases of lower numbers in different -parts of the poems, where it may be argued, with varying -measures of probability, that Homer had a similar -intention.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβὴ</span> and numerals of value.</i></div> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβὴ</span>, without doubt, affords a striking -proof of vagueness in the ideas of the heroic age -with respect to number: and this vagueness extends, -yet apparently in varying degrees, to the adjective<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβοῖος</span>. I have elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_801_801" id="FNanchor_801_801"></a><a href="#Footnote_801_801" class="fnanchor">[801]</a> referred to adjectives of -this formation as indicative of the fact, that for those -generations of mankind oxen may be said to have constituted -a measure of value; and this fact certainly involves -an aim at numerical exactitude. It seems, indeed, -on general grounds far from improbable, that the -business of exchange may have been the original guide -of our race into the art, and thus into the science, of -arithmetic.</p> - -<p>In the description of the Shield of Minerva, which -had an hundred golden drops or tassels, we are told -that each of them was <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβοῖος</span>, or worth an hundred -oxen. This use of the word must be regarded as -strongly charged with figure. Minerva was arming to -mingle among men upon the plain of Troy<a name="FNanchor_802_802" id="FNanchor_802_802"></a><a href="#Footnote_802_802" class="fnanchor">[802]</a>, and it is not -likely, therefore, that the Poet would represent her in -dimensions utterly inordinate. He judiciously reserves -this license of exaggeration without bounds for scenes -where he is beyond the sphere of relations properly -human, as for example, the Theomachy and the Under-world. -Now we may venture to take the Homeric -value of an ox before Troy at half an ounce of gold. -In the prizes of the wrestling match, where a tripod -was worth twelve oxen, a highly skilled woman (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολλὰ -δ’ ἐπίστατο ἔργα</span>) was worth four<a name="FNanchor_803_803" id="FNanchor_803_803"></a><a href="#Footnote_803_803" class="fnanchor">[803]</a>. Two ounces of gold -would be a low price for such a person in almost any age. -According to this computation, each drop on the Ægis -of Minerva would weigh fifty ounces: the whole would -weigh above 300 lbs. <i>avoirdupois</i>, and if we were to assume -the purely ornamental fringe in a work of this -kind to weigh one tenth part of the whole, the Ægis -itself would weigh nearly a ton and a half. <i>Primâ -facie</i>, this is susceptible of explanation in either of two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span> -ways: the one, that the numbers are used poetically and -not arithmetically; the other, that of sheer intentional -exaggeration in bulk. The rules of the Poet, as they are -elsewhere applied, oblige us to reject the latter solution, -and consequently throw us back upon the former.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The numerals of value.</i></div> - -<p>Again, we are told that, when Diomed obtained the -exchange of arms from Glaucus, he gave a suit of -copper, and obtained in return a suit of gilt<a name="FNanchor_804_804" id="FNanchor_804_804"></a><a href="#Footnote_804_804" class="fnanchor">[804]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">χρύσεα χαλκείων, ἑκατόμβοι’ ἐννεαβοίων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here there seems to be a mixture of the metaphorical -and the arithmetical use. For, on the one hand, it is -singular that he should have chosen numbers which -require the aid of a fraction to express their relation -to one another. He could certainly not have meant to -say that the values of the two suits were precisely as -100:9, or as 11⅑:1. And yet, on the one hand, he -could scarcely use the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐννεαβοῖα</span>, except with reference -to the known and usual value of a suit of -armour, while the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβοῖα</span>, from its use in other -places, must be suspected of having no more than a -merely indeterminate force.</p> - -<p>With this fractional relation of 100:9, may be compared -the arrangement at the feast in Pylos, where -each division of five hundred persons was supplied -with nine oxen. These numbers, however, are probably -less vague than in some other cases: for the -provision stated, though large, is not beyond what a -rude plenty might suggest on a great public occasion.</p> - -<p>Again, Lycaon, when captured for the second time -by Achilles, reminds that hero of what he had fetched -or been worth to him on the former occasion<a name="FNanchor_805_805" id="FNanchor_805_805"></a><a href="#Footnote_805_805" class="fnanchor">[805]</a>: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατόμβοιον -δέ τοι ἦλφον</span>. Here we have a decisive proof of -the figurative use of number. Had the young prince<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span> -been ransomed by Priam, a great price, no doubt, -would have been given. But Achilles sold him into -Lemnos, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνευθεν ἄγων πατρός τε φίλων τε</span>: and to the -Lemnians he could hardly have value but as a labourer, -although indeed it chanced that he was afterwards redeemed, -by a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξεῖνος</span> of Priam<a name="FNanchor_806_806" id="FNanchor_806_806"></a><a href="#Footnote_806_806" class="fnanchor">[806]</a>, at a high price. We cannot, -then, suppose that he had brought any such return -as would be represented by a full hundred of oxen.</p> - -<p>The evidence thus far, I think, tends powerfully to -support the hypothesis, that there is an amount of -vagueness in Homer’s general use of numbers, unless -indeed as to very low ones, which cannot be explained -otherwise than as metaphorical or purely poetical: and -that his mind never had before it any of those processes, -simple as they are to all who are familiar with -them, of multiplication, subtraction, or division.</p> - -<p>I admit it to be possible, that his manner of treating -number may have been owing to his determination to -be intelligible, and to the state of the faculties of his -hearers, as much as, or even more than, his own. But -to me the supposition of the infant condition even of his -faculties with respect to number, though at first sight -startling, approves itself on reflection as one thoroughly -in conformity with analogy and nature. Indeed the -experience of life may convince us that to this hour -we should be mistaken, if we supposed arithmetical -conceptions to be uniform in different minds; that the -relations of number are faintly and imperfectly apprehended, -except by either practised or else peculiarly -gifted persons; and that, in short, there is nothing -more mysterious than arithmetic to those who do not -understand it. As one illustration of this opinion, I will -cite the difficulty which most educated persons, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span> -studying history, certainly feel in mastering its chronology; -while to those who are apt at figures it is -not only acquired with ease, but it even serves as the -<i>nexus</i> and support of the whole chain of events.</p> - -<p>There were several occasions, upon which it would -have been most natural and appropriate for Homer to -use the faculty of multiplication; yet on no one of -these has he used it. He constantly supplies us with -the materials of a sum, but never once performs the -process.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Silence as to the numbers of the armies.</i></div> - -<p>The first example in the Iliad is supplied by that -passage of the unhappy speech of Agamemnon to the -Assembly in the Second Book, which causes the fever-fit -of home-sickness. He compares the strength of the -Greek army with that of the Trojans; and he only -effects the purpose by this feeble but elaborate contrivance. -‘Should the Greeks and Trojans agree to be -numbered respectively, and should the Trojans properly -so called be placed one by one, but the Greeks in tens, -and every Trojan made cupbearer to a Greek ten, -many of our tens would be without a cupbearer<a name="FNanchor_807_807" id="FNanchor_807_807"></a><a href="#Footnote_807_807" class="fnanchor">[807]</a>.’ In -the first place, the fact that he calls this ascertaining -of comparative force numbering <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριθμηθημέναι</span> is remarkable; -for it would not have shown the numbers -of either army; nor even the difference, by which the -Greeks exceeded a tenfold ratio to the Trojans; but -simply, by leaving an unexhausted residue, the fact -that they were more, whether by much or by little, -than ten times as many as the besieged. Secondly, -it seems plain that, if Homer had known what was -meant by multiplication, he would have used the process -in this instance, in lieu of the elaborate (yet -poetical) circumlocution which he has adopted; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span> -would have said the Greeks were ten times, or fifteen -times, or twenty times, as many as the inhabitants of -Troy.</p> - -<p>After this, Ulysses reminds the Assembly of the apparition -of the dragon they had seen at Aulis. The -phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χθιζά τε καὶ πρώιζα</span>, which he employs, may -grammatically either belong to the epoch of the gathering -at Aulis, or to the time of the plague, which had -carried off a part of the force a fortnight or three weeks -before. In whichever connection of the two we place it, -it affords an instance of extreme indefiniteness in the -use of two adverbs which are at once expressive of -time and of number; for on one supposition he must -use them to express whole years, and on the other -they must mean near a fortnight, and therefore a certain -number of days.</p> - -<p>The next case is remarkable. It is that of the Catalogue.</p> - -<p>The resolution, which introduces it, was not a resolution -to number the host; but simply to make a careful -division and distribution of the men under their leaders, -with a view to a more effective responsibility, both of -officers and men<a name="FNanchor_808_808" id="FNanchor_808_808"></a><a href="#Footnote_808_808" class="fnanchor">[808]</a>. But when the Poet comes to enumerate -the divisions, it is evidently a great object with -him to make known the relative forces, and thus the -relative prominence and power, of the different States -of Greece. Yet nothing can be more imperfect than -the manner in which the enumerating portion of his -task is executed. In the first place, we trace again the -old habit of the loose and figurative use of numbers. -For Homer could hardly mean us to take literally all -the numbers of ships, which he has stated in the Catalogue: -since, in every case where they come up to or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span> -exceed twenty, they run in complete decades without -odd numbers; subject to the single exception of the -twenty-two ships of Gouneus. Podalirius and Machaon -have thirty, the Phocians forty, Achilles fifty, Menelaus -sixty, Diomed eighty, Nestor ninety, Agamemnon -an hundred: the only full multiple of ten omitted -being the utterly intractable <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑβδομήκοντα</span>. But again, -he gives us no effectual clue to the numbers of the -crews. Each of the fifty ships of the Bœotians had one -hundred and twenty men, and each of the seven ships -of Philoctetes had fifty<a name="FNanchor_809_809" id="FNanchor_809_809"></a><a href="#Footnote_809_809" class="fnanchor">[809]</a>. Thus he supplies us with the -two factors of the sum, which would find the number of -men, in each of these two cases; but in neither case -does he perform the sum; and such is the uniform -practice throughout the poems. For the Greek force -generally, he has not even given us the factors. It has -indeed been conjectured, that fifty may have been the -smallest ship’s company, and one hundred and twenty -the largest: but this is mere conjecture; and even if -it be well founded, still we do not know whether the -generality of the ships were about the mean, or nearer -one or the other of the extremes. Again, it would appear -probable from the Odyssey, that these numbers, of -fifty and one hundred and twenty, are exclusive at least -of pilots and commanders, if not also of the stewards<a name="FNanchor_810_810" id="FNanchor_810_810"></a><a href="#Footnote_810_810" class="fnanchor">[810]</a> -and the minor officers<a name="FNanchor_811_811" id="FNanchor_811_811"></a><a href="#Footnote_811_811" class="fnanchor">[811]</a>; for the number mentioned by -Alcinous<a name="FNanchor_812_812" id="FNanchor_812_812"></a><a href="#Footnote_812_812" class="fnanchor">[812]</a> is fifty-two; and although he says that all -were to sit down to row, the texts when compared -cannot but suggest, that the number fifty was an usual -complement of oars, and that the two were the captain -and pilot respectively<a name="FNanchor_813_813" id="FNanchor_813_813"></a><a href="#Footnote_813_813" class="fnanchor">[813]</a>.</p> - -<p>Plainly, there must have been very great inequalities<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span> -in the crews of the Greek armament; or Homer could -not have said, after giving Agamemnon an hundred -ships, that he had by far the largest force of all the -chiefs<a name="FNanchor_814_814" id="FNanchor_814_814"></a><a href="#Footnote_814_814" class="fnanchor">[814]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">ἅμα τῷγε πολὺ πλεῖστοι καὶ ἄριστοι</div> - <div class="verse">λαοὶ ἕποντ’.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For Diomed and Idomeneus have each eighty ships, -and Nestor has ninety, so that their numbers would -come very near Agamemnon’s, unless their ships were -smaller. But to sum up this discussion. It is evident -that, if only we suppose the Greeks of Homer’s time to -have had a definite and well developed sense of number, -the mention by Homer of the amount of force in -the Trojan expedition would have been a fact of the -highest national interest and importance. Yet he has -left us nothing, which can be said even definitely to -approximate to a record of it, though the enumeration -of the Catalogue appears almost to force the subject -upon him. The fair inferences seem to be, that he did -not understand the calculative use of numbers at all, -or beyond some very limited range; and that, even -within that range, he for the most part employed them -poetically and ornamentally; they were decorative and -effective, like epithets to his song, but they were not -statistical; as expressions of force they were no more -than (as it were) tentative, and that but very rudely.</p> - -<p>I am further confirmed in the belief of Homer’s indeterminate -conception of number, from the strange -result to which the contrary opinion would lead. He -tells us of the Trojan bivouac<a name="FNanchor_815_815" id="FNanchor_815_815"></a><a href="#Footnote_815_815" class="fnanchor">[815]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">χίλι’ ἄρ’ ἐν πεδίῳ πυρὰ καίετο· πὰρ δὲ ἑκάστῳ</div> - <div class="verse">εἵατο πεντήκοντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span></p> - -<p>In this case he has given us again the factors of a sum -in multiplication, though not the product. Did he -mean them to be taken literally? If he did, then it is -indeed strange that, although he says nothing whatever -on the subject of number in the Trojan Catalogue, yet -he has here supplied us with all the particulars necessary -for estimating the Trojan force, while as to the Greek -army, we remain unable to say whether it amounted to -fifty thousand, or to half, or to twice or thrice that -number. But it is quite plain from the total absence of -specified numbers in the Trojan Catalogue, that he had -no desire, as indeed he had no occasion, to give an accurate -account of the Trojan force. On the other hand -it appears, from the details of the Greek Catalogue, -that he did wish to describe the amount of the force on -that side, as far as he could conceive or convey it. If -all this be so, then nothing can show more clearly than -the thousand Trojan watch-fires, with their fifty men at -each, Homer’s figurative manner of employing numerical -aggregations. If however we admit the figurative -use, we at once find everything harmonious. He describes -the Trojans by the method of bold enhancement, -at a juncture of the poem where it is his purpose to -make them terrible to the Greek imagination.</p> - -<p>The instance of Proteus in the Odyssey has already -been referred to: but one more marked is afforded by -the description that Eumæus gives of the herds and -flocks of Ulysses. This, again, is one of the instances -where the spirit and gist of the passage almost required -that a total should be stated. For the object is to give -a telling account. The wealth of this prince, says the -Poet, was boundless; none of the heroes, whether of -Ithaca or of the fertile continent, had so much; no, nor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span> -had any twenty of them. Then he mentions how many -herds of cattle, goats, and swine, and flocks of sheep -there were, but gives no numbers of any of the herds, -nor any total: though, shortly before, the poem had mentioned -the three hundred and sixty fat hogs under the -care of Eumæus, and had also given us the sows in the -usual manner, stating that there were twelve sties with -fifty in each; but not specifying anywhere the total of -six hundred which these figures yield when multiplied -together<a name="FNanchor_816_816" id="FNanchor_816_816"></a><a href="#Footnote_816_816" class="fnanchor">[816]</a>.</p> - -<p>Again, then the result of all these passages, as well as -of more which might be quoted, is, I think, to show -that Homer’s conceptions of number, and his use of -number, especially when beyond a very low limit, were -so indeterminate, that they may not improperly be called -figurative.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Hesiod’s age of the Nymphs.</i></div> - -<p>In support and in illustration of this belief with respect -to Homer, I would once more refer to the curious -fragment ascribed to Hesiod respecting the age of the -Nymphs with beauteous locks, which begins,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἐννέα τοι ζώει γενεὰς λακέρυζα κορώνη</div> - <div class="verse">ἀνδρῶν ἡβώντων.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In the Etymol. Magn. 13. 36, the reading is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γερώντων</span>; -and Ausonius, following this authority in his -Eighteenth Idyll, makes the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> no less than 96 years. -But the sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> is fixed by Homer’s account of -Nestor, and otherwise, in such a way as greatly to favour -the reading <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἡβώντων</span>. The word therefore means the -term between birth and the prime of life, which may -well be taken at thirty years. Then comes a table as -follows.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span></p> -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>The age of the daw = 9 ages of men.</p> - -<p>The age of the stag = 4 of daws = 36 of men.</p> - -<p>The age of the crow = 3 of stags = twelve of daws = -108 of men.</p> - -<p>The age of the palm = 9 of crows = 27 of stags = 108 -of daws = 972 of men.</p> - -<p>The age of the Nymph = 10 of palms = 90 of crows = -270 of stags = 1080 of daws = 9720 of men.</p></div> - -<p>And if the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> be 30 years, the age of the Nymphs -= 30 × 9720 = 291,600 years. But the point most remarkable -for us is, that while Hesiod, if Hesiod it be, -supplies us with the whole of the first factors after the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, for this long sum, he does not actually perform -one single multiplication; nor does he even define the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, which is the first and most vital element of all.</p> - -<p>He has thus given us at once a very pretty poetical -invention for expressing approximately the age of -Nymphs, who are Jove-born indeed, yet are not immortal, -and a remarkable proof of the indefiniteness -of numerical conceptions, and of total unacquaintance -with the rules of arithmetic<a name="FNanchor_817_817" id="FNanchor_817_817"></a><a href="#Footnote_817_817" class="fnanchor">[817]</a>.</p> - -<p>One consequence of the proposition I have advanced -with respect to Homer is, to destroy altogether a supposed -discrepancy between the Iliad and the Odyssey, -which has often been paraded as a reason, among -others, for assigning them to different authors. It is -truly alleged that, in the Catalogue<a name="FNanchor_818_818" id="FNanchor_818_818"></a><a href="#Footnote_818_818" class="fnanchor">[818]</a>, Crete is called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span> -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατόμπολις</span>; and that in the Nineteenth Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_819_819" id="FNanchor_819_819"></a><a href="#Footnote_819_819" class="fnanchor">[819]</a> we -are told of it,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ἐν δ’ ἄνθρωποι</div> - <div class="verse">πολλοὶ, ἀπειρέσιοι, καὶ ἐννήκοντα πόληες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Each of these words appears to be interpreted as strictly, -as it would be if caught by an auditor in the accounts -of some delinquent Joint-Stock Company; and thus, -forsooth, a diversity of authors for the two poems is to -be made good. Now it is not a little odd, if both these -poets looked at the subject with the eye of statisticians, -that while each found a different number of cities in -Crete, yet each found an even, and more or less a round -number. But why is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατόμπολις</span> to be more strictly -interpreted than <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατομβή</span>? And again, if we are to -construe <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐννήκοντα</span> statistically, what are we to do with -the very word that precedes it, namely, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀπειρέσιοι</span>? The -simple fact of the juxtaposition of that word with the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐννήκοντα πόληες</span> should surely have sufficed to show, that -the whole manner of speech was (what we now call) -poetical. So regarding it, I venture even to say that -the effect of a comparison with the epithet in the -Catalogue is to establish, not a discrepancy in point of -fact, but rather a similarity in the measure of figurative -conception and expression: so that in consequence, as -far as it is worth any thing, it rather tends to prove -the identity, than the diversity, of authorship between -the two poems.</p> - -<p>A second consequence, which must be drawn from -the foregoing conclusions, is this; that we shall do wrong -to search the poems of Homer for any scheme of chronology. -The minute enumerations of the Mosaic books -have perhaps given the tone to our ordinary historical -inquiries: but, at least with respect to Homer, it must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span> -appear an erroneous course to use his numerical statements -as literal, when they are applied to time, after -we have had so much evidence of their generally ornamental -and figurative character.</p> - -<p>When Homer has occasion to define distance, he -does not attempt to do it by a fixed measure, but by -reference always to human or other action: it is as far -as a man can throw a spear, (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δουρὸς ἐρώη</span>); or as far as -a man’s cry can be heard (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅσον τε γέγωνε βόησας</span>); or as -far, when we come to larger spaces, as we can sail -within a certain time; if I make a good passage, says -Achilles<a name="FNanchor_820_820" id="FNanchor_820_820"></a><a href="#Footnote_820_820" class="fnanchor">[820]</a>, I may get to Phthia on the third day: and -again, we hear of the distance that a ship can perform -within the day<a name="FNanchor_821_821" id="FNanchor_821_821"></a><a href="#Footnote_821_821" class="fnanchor">[821]</a>. The horses of the gods in Homer -clear, at each bound, a space as large as the eye can -cover along the surface of the sea. As he comes to -speak of points more remote and less known, he becomes -greatly more vague, and says of Egypt, that even -the birds do not get back from it within the year<a name="FNanchor_822_822" id="FNanchor_822_822"></a><a href="#Footnote_822_822" class="fnanchor">[822]</a>: -without doubt drawing his idea from those birds which -periodically migrate.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>No scheme of Chronology in Homer.</i></div> - -<p>As with spaces, so with times. The year indeed by -its revolution forms itself into a natural whole, and is -thus in a manner self-defined. So the waxing and -waning moon defines the month. But even with these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span> -well marked terms Homer deals loosely; for the birth -of infants is promised to take place after the revolution -of a year from the time of conception<a name="FNanchor_823_823" id="FNanchor_823_823"></a><a href="#Footnote_823_823" class="fnanchor">[823]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Case of the three decades of years.</i></div> - -<p>I do not remember that he ever mentions a very -high number of days or of years, but his use of both -days and years, when it does not embrace terms defined -by custom, has the marks of being highly poetical. Take -for instance the principal and almost only statements -of the poem, that can claim to be called chronological. -They are those which represent the period of the siege -as a decade of years, preceded by a decade of preparation, -and followed by a third decade for the vicissitudes -of the Return. Here are three terms of years, all found -in a Poet, who does not elsewhere deal in terms of -years at all. Of history, or what purports to be such, -Homer has given us a great deal, and he has placed it -in the exactest and clearest order. But in no one instance, -out of all his prior history, does he found himself -on any numerical definitions of time. Moreover, these -three terms of years are all exactly equal, which heightens -the unlikelihood of their being historical. Lastly, -the three terms are just of the number of years required -to make up what was, according to all appearances, the -Homeric term of a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, or generation of men.</p> - -<p>The passage, on which the proof of this last assertion -must principally be founded, is that in the First Book<a name="FNanchor_824_824" id="FNanchor_824_824"></a><a href="#Footnote_824_824" class="fnanchor">[824]</a>, -which describes the age of Nestor;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τῷ δ’ ἤδη δύο μὲν γενεαὶ μερόπων ἀνθρώπων</div> - <div class="verse">ἐφθίαθ’, οἵ οἱ πρόσθεν ἅμα τράφεν ἠδ’ ἐγένοντο</div> - <div class="verse">ἐν Πύλῳ ἠγαθέῃ, μετὰ δὲ τριτάτοισιν ἄνασσεν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I take the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> to mean here, ‘the term of -thirty years,’ but with the necessary qualification of ‘<i>or</i> -thereabouts;’ and for the following reasons:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nestor is represented in the Iliad as the oldest of -the Greek chieftains of the first order. Yet Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_825_825" id="FNanchor_825_825"></a><a href="#Footnote_825_825" class="fnanchor">[825]</a> -was elderly, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὠμογέρων</span>. Idomeneus, again, was older -than Ulysses, as is plain from the more marked manner -in which his advance in years is described. He is -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μεσαιπόλιος</span><a name="FNanchor_826_826" id="FNanchor_826_826"></a><a href="#Footnote_826_826" class="fnanchor">[826]</a>, and not fully ablebodied, as appears from -his somewhat limited share in military operations; but -Nestor is evidently older than Idomeneus, as he always -addresses the whole body with the authority that belongs -to the most extended experience, and as he never -takes an active part, either in battle or in the games. -We must, accordingly, suppose Nestor to be represented -as at this time an old man of seventy, or from that to -seventy-five.</p> - -<p>Now the passage implies that he was in the third -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, and in the midst, i. e. not at either extremity, of -it: the words are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μετὰ τριτάτοισιν</span>. No lower number -than thirty years will place Nestor fairly among, or in -the midst of, the third generation from his birth. If, -for example, we take five and twenty years as the -term, he would have been not so much among the -third as on the eve of arriving within the fourth -generation. But neither can we assign to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> any -meaning, which shall make it sensibly exceed thirty -years. For as we may say with confidence that the -Nestor of the Iliad is over seventy, so, on the other -hand, we may fairly compute that he is under eighty; -inasmuch as, though he takes no part in exertions -actually athletic, he spares himself nothing else. He -is found by Agamemnon, when the commander in chief -goes his rounds, on the field and at the head of his division: -he is wakeful for the night council, and he goes -about awaking others<a name="FNanchor_827_827" id="FNanchor_827_827"></a><a href="#Footnote_827_827" class="fnanchor">[827]</a>. Retaining so large a share of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span> -bodily activity, he is still not represented as possessed -of strength in such a degree as to border upon the -marvellous; he is simply, in regard to corporal qualities, -what would now be called a remarkably fine old -gentleman. But if instead of thirty we were to take -forty years, then, in order to have well entered into -the third term he must have been already much beyond -eighty, indeed, probably beyond ninety, in the Iliad, -and above an hundred in the Odyssey; an age, which, -as he retains in that poem all his mental powers, we -may be quite sure Homer did not mean to assign to -him. If, then, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> meant any term of years, it must, in -all likelihood, have been somewhere about thirty years.</p> - -<p>Homer has been careful, in the case of Nestor, to -mark, by an appropriate change of expressions, the -difference between his age in the two poems respectively. -In the Iliad he is exercising the kingly office -<i>among</i> the third generation since his birth. In the -Odyssey he is said to have exhausted the three terms<a name="FNanchor_828_828" id="FNanchor_828_828"></a><a href="#Footnote_828_828" class="fnanchor">[828]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">τρὶς γὰρ δή μίν φασιν ἀνάξασθαι γενε’ ἀνδρῶν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>That lucidity and accuracy in Homer’s expressions, -to which we are so often beholden, may stand us yet -further in good stead. Two <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεαὶ</span> had passed, not of -men at large, but of <i>the</i> men <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἵ οἱ πρόσθεν ἅμα τράφεν -ἠδ’ ἐγένοντο</span>, of those who were bred and born with -him, of his contemporaries. Now this proves that by -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> Homer does not mean the full duration of human -life, but that average interval between the successions -of men, which general experience places at about thirty -years. For if Homer had meant by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> the whole -time required for the dying out of a generation, Nestor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span> -could not have outlived two generations of contemporaries. -In this sense, his contemporaries were manifestly -not two generations, but one, or little more. But -if the Poet meant the usual interval at which child succeeds -to, or rather follows upon, father, the expression is -clear; for the meaning is, that he had seen two of these -terms of years, or successions, pass over those who were -born at the same time with himself. And in fact this sense -of the term <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span> is much closer to its etymology than -any other. We may, then, on the whole, pretty safely -assume it to be a term of years, having the number -thirty, so to speak, for its pivot. And thus the three -decades of the war become yet more inadmissible as -historical expressions, because they are under the -strongest suspicion of being poetically employed in -order to make up the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, so far at least as they -and it can be considered to approximate to an actual -number at all.</p> - -<p>In full conformity with this reasoning, it has been -shown by Mure, that the events of the third decade, -with their times, instead of ten years only, make up -eight years and seven months<a name="FNanchor_829_829" id="FNanchor_829_829"></a><a href="#Footnote_829_829" class="fnanchor">[829]</a>: and he proceeds in the -same direction with the foregoing argument so far, at -least, as to observe, that the decades and their arrangement -are conceived ‘in a mixed spirit of hyperbole -and method,’ which commonly marks the genius of -heroic romance<a name="FNanchor_830_830" id="FNanchor_830_830"></a><a href="#Footnote_830_830" class="fnanchor">[830]</a>.</p> - -<p>That, however, which enables me with great confidence -at once to urge Homer’s historical authority, and -yet to decline recognising him as a chronologist at all, -is the fact, that he nowhere founds his history at all in -chronology, or in the numbering of events by years, -more than he numbers distances by miles, but that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span> -arranges the succession of occurrences by the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεαὶ</span> or -succession of human generations. On these generations -we must look as the real time-keeping organism of his -works: and the time with its elastic periods, although -indeterminate in its details, is kept by him most accurately -and effectually as a whole; so that his generations, -which are dispersedly recorded in various parts of the -poems, always tally when they meet. This is not the -place for the proof of the assertion: I only refer to it, -because it may help to dispel the illusion apt to possess -the mind with respect to Homer’s decades. We, with -our definite numerical ideas, may naturally consider -that if an author of our own day had said a war lasted -in preparation, action, and return, each ten years, and -if it was afterwards found perhaps to have lasted (say) -only for ten years altogether or little more, such an author -would have proved himself unworthy of belief: -he would have broken faith with us. But Homer does -not break faith with us in using numbers poetically; -they belong to his pictorial and not to his historical -apparatus, and in connection with this pictorial apparatus -it is that he constantly employs them. I doubt if -there is any exception to be made to the broad assertion, -that, unless in the single case of the war, with the preceding -and following decades, Homer never applies -number to narrative. And yet the poems are full of -independent narratives. Of all these, very few indeed -are left unfixed in date; and in every case the date, -when found, is found, of course with a certain margin, -by means of the order of generations.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Difficulties of the literal interpretation.</i></div> - -<p>Now this view of Homer’s mode of chronology will -serve, I think, to explain some difficulties that have -heretofore led to much of needless perplexity. If I -am right, it will follow that we must not adopt these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span> -decades as a guide to determine arithmetically the -order of events, because Homer has never conceived -them arithmetically, but has conceived them rather as -we conceive millions or billions. Hence they are more -justly to be viewed as a drapery thrown loosely over his -action, than as a rigid framework into which it must at -all costs be made to fit. Let us apply this to various -cases; and among them to those of Telemachus and -Neoptolemus respectively. Ulysses left Telemachus a -mere child, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νέον γεγαῶτ’ ἐνὶ οἴκῳ</span><a name="FNanchor_831_831" id="FNanchor_831_831"></a><a href="#Footnote_831_831" class="fnanchor">[831]</a>. He comes back and -finds him not a full man, for if he had been a full man, -he would have been guilty of a rooted cowardice beyond -excuse, which there is no sign that Homer meant -to impute to him; but yet he was approaching manhood. -Still he is contemptuously called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νέος παῖς</span><a name="FNanchor_832_832" id="FNanchor_832_832"></a><a href="#Footnote_832_832" class="fnanchor">[832]</a> by -Antinous. Upon the whole, the case of Telemachus -would perhaps, according to the analogy of the poems, -best fall in with an absence of not more than fifteen -years, though it does not absolutely exclude nineteen. -Here there may be a slight, yet there is not a glaring, -discrepancy. But in another case, that of the number -of the days for which Telemachus was absent, Mure -has shown how little Homer cares to follow the lapse -of time, in a case where it does not essentially touch the -general order of the poem, with the precision that he -observes in everything that he treats historically<a name="FNanchor_833_833" id="FNanchor_833_833"></a><a href="#Footnote_833_833" class="fnanchor">[833]</a>. I -cannot treat this as a difficulty with respect to the question -of authorship, or admit it to be one: it is his childlike -and indeterminate but poetical habit of handling -numbers for effect, just as a painter handles colour. On -the other hand, in the case of Argus, on whom dark -death laid hold<a name="FNanchor_834_834" id="FNanchor_834_834"></a><a href="#Footnote_834_834" class="fnanchor">[834]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτίκ’ ἰδόντ’ Ὀδυσῆα ἐεικοστῷ ἐνιαυτῷ</span>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span></p> - -<p>he precisely coincides with his own decades. Yet I -believe he does this not from any sense of the necessity -of such coincidence, but because in that incomparable -passage he had the extreme old age of a dog -to represent, and to this the expression of the twentieth -year was suited. When, however, we come to the case of -Neoptolemus, we find this to be one extremely difficult -of adjustment for any critic, who would insist upon a -merely numerical precision in Homer. We must indeed -dismiss from our minds the tales about the concealment -of a beardless Achilles at Scyros, under a female disguise; -from which he was extracted by the art of -Ulysses. Of these stories Homer knows nothing; -though it seems probable that the grace and beauty of -the great warrior, as he stands in Homer, may have -been connected with, or may have suggested, them. But -what the Poet does represent is, that Achilles went to -Troy when without experience in war, that he was put -under a certain tutelage of Phœnix his original teacher, -and now one of his lieutenants, that Patroclus as his -senior was desired by Peleus to give him good advice, -and that he is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νήπιος</span><a name="FNanchor_835_835" id="FNanchor_835_835"></a><a href="#Footnote_835_835" class="fnanchor">[835]</a>. Yet his son Neoptolemus -succeeds him in command before the close of -the war, and attains to very high distinction. It is yet -more needful to be observed, that his distinction is in -council, as well as in the field<a name="FNanchor_836_836" id="FNanchor_836_836"></a><a href="#Footnote_836_836" class="fnanchor">[836]</a>. The age of Achilles is, -indeed, presumably somewhat raised by the fact, that -Phœnix seems to represent himself as a good deal -younger than Peleus, who, he says, treated him as a father -might have done<a name="FNanchor_837_837" id="FNanchor_837_837"></a><a href="#Footnote_837_837" class="fnanchor">[837]</a>. And again, Achilles is never represented -as a young man in the Iliad, while Diomed is so -represented. Still there is a decided incompatibility in -the statements as to Achilles and his son, if we suppose -that Homer carried in his mind the effect of his three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span> -decades, as determining precisely the growth of Neoptolemus -in years and strength; for Neoptolemus is -more advanced at the end of the war, than his illustrious -father had been at its beginning. Mure has been -at the pains<a name="FNanchor_838_838" id="FNanchor_838_838"></a><a href="#Footnote_838_838" class="fnanchor">[838]</a> to arrange all these matters which depend -on the decades chronologically, without, I think, removing -the impression that mere chronology is considerably -strained by them, and that if strictly judged, the -narrative is, to all appearance, chargeable with some few -years of maladjustment. It seems to me more near the -truth to consider the three decades, together making up -a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γενεὴ</span>, as a distribution of time which the Poet adopted -for its symmetry and grandeur, since it represented -the war as absorbing an age or generation of men: but -not to hold him bound to adjust the relations of all the -events he narrates with reference to a minute regularity -of progression, which he seems not to have taken into -account, and which his hearers were probably quite incapable -of appreciating. If we wish to test his historical -credit, we may try him by his own scheme of chronology, -namely, his genealogies. His legends embrace some -seven generations. The same characters are produced -and reproduced in many of them; but they are nowhere -presented in such a way as to be inconsistent -with their order of succession according to the ordinary -laws of human nature.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Uses of the proposed interpretation.</i></div> - -<p>The application of these considerations to the poems -will assist in explaining difficulties, which it has been -thought worth while by learned men to raise.</p> - -<p>For instance; while we take the three decades of -years historically, we are perplexed by such questions -as, How it came about that the Greeks<a name="FNanchor_839_839" id="FNanchor_839_839"></a><a href="#Footnote_839_839" class="fnanchor">[839]</a> never had -been mustered till nine years had passed. Secondly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span> -how it was that the Trojans had never until then seen -them in such force<a name="FNanchor_840_840" id="FNanchor_840_840"></a><a href="#Footnote_840_840" class="fnanchor">[840]</a>; whereas we know that multitudes -of the Greek army had died<a name="FNanchor_841_841" id="FNanchor_841_841"></a><a href="#Footnote_841_841" class="fnanchor">[841]</a>; and there is no sign that -any such communication with their native country took -place during the course of the war, as might have sufficed -to replenish their ranks. Thirdly, why the Trojans had -remained so closely shut within the walls, and yet at -the same time the Greeks had so seldom come near -them, that Priam should not have learnt to know Agamemnon -and his compeers by sight during so long a -period; and this although Achilles may probably have -been absent, for considerable intervals, on his predatory -expeditions. Fourthly, how it came about that the -great number of allies speaking various tongues, who -had gathered round Priam to assist him, should, like -the Greek army, not have been marshalled at an earlier -time.</p> - -<p>But if we suppose the term of ten years to be in the -main a figurative expression for conveying the idea of -effort lengthened in duration, as well as extraordinary -in intensity, difficulties like these, which at the worst are -perhaps not very serious, either wholly vanish, or are -reduced to insignificant proportions. We are then at -liberty to suppose that, without at all departing from -the general truth of history, Homer felt himself authorized -to compress, to expand, or to group the events -of the war, in such a manner as he thought best for the -concentration of interest, and for the production of -adequate poetical and national effect.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SECT. IV.<br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>Homer’s Perceptions and Use of Colour.</i></span></h3> - -<p>The subject of the Homeric numbers has been discussed -at considerable length, on account of its connection -with important questions of history. That of -colours may, even on its own merits, deserve a careful -examination. This inquiry will resemble, however, the -former discussion in the appearance of paradox, which -the argument may seem to present. Next to the idea -of number, there is none perhaps more definite to the -modern mind generally, as well as in particular to the -English mind, than that of colour. That our own country -has some special aptitude in this respect, we may judge -from the comparatively advantageous position, which -the British painters have always held as colourists -among other contemporary schools. Nothing seems -more readily understood and retained by very young -children among us, than the distinctions between the -principal colours. In regard to one point, the case of -numbers is here reversed. There the idea becomes -indefinite as we ascend in the scale, here it is as we -descend. Colour becomes doubtful as it becomes -faint, more and more clear as it is accumulated and -heightened. But the facility with which we discriminate -colour in all its marked forms, is probably the -result of traditional aptitude, since we seem to find, as -we go far backward in human history, that the faculty -is less and less mature.</p> - -<p>I am conscious that the subject, which is now before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span> -us, in reality deserves a scientific investigation, which I am -not capable of affording to it: and also that we are, as -yet, far from being able to render the language of the -ancients for colour into our own with the confidence, -which we can feel in almost every other department of -interpretation. My endeavours will be limited, firstly, -to a collection of ‘<i>realien</i>,’ or facts of the poems, in the -case of Colour: and, secondly, to pointing out what -appears to be the basis of the ideas and perceptions of -Homer respecting it, and the relation of that basis to -the ideas of the later Greeks.</p> - -<p>Among the signs of the immaturity which I have -mentioned, the following are found in the poems of -Homer:</p> - -<p>I. The paucity of his colours.</p> - -<p>II. The use of the same word to denote not only -different hues or tints of the same colour, but colours -which, according to us, are essentially different.</p> - -<p>III. The description of the same object under epithets -of colour fundamentally disagreeing one from the -other.</p> - -<p>IV. The vast predominance of the most crude and -elemental forms of colour, black and white, over every -other, and the decided tendency to treat other colours -as simply intermediate modes between these extremes.</p> - -<p>V. The slight use of colour in Homer, as compared -with other elements of beauty, for the purpose of poetic -effect, and its absence in certain cases where we might -confidently expect to find it.</p> - -<p>Each of these topics will deserve a distinct notice.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homeric adjectives of Colour.</i></div> - -<p>I. First, then, with respect to the paucity of his -colours. We find, I think, scarcely more than the following -words which can with certainty be described as -adjectives of colour properly so called:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span></p> - -<p> -1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκός.</span><br /> -2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας.</span><br /> -3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθός.</span><br /> -4. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρός.</span><br /> -5. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος.</span><br /> -6. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος.</span><br /> -7. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ.</span><br /> -8. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>There are other words which are taken from objects -that have colour, and to most of which I shall hereafter -refer: but which can hardly, in consistency with the -whole evidence from the text of Homer, be classed as -adjectives of definite colour.</p> - -<p>Now we must at once be struck with the poverty of -the list which has just been given, upon comparing it -with our own list of primary colours, which has been -determined for us by Nature, and which is as follows:</p> - -<p> -1. Red.<br /> -2. Orange.<br /> -3. Yellow.<br /> -4. Green.<br /> -5. Blue.<br /> -6. Indigo.<br /> -7. Violet.<br /> -</p> - -<p>To these we are to add—</p> - -<p> -8. White, the compound of all colours;<br /> -9. Black, the negative or absence of them all.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Out of these nine, three at least stand unrepresented. -For <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος</span> can mean none of them: and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span> can do -no more than double either <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>, or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span>, or -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρός</span>. The most favourable presumptions would perhaps -arrange the Homeric list as follows:</p> - -<p> -1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span>, white.<br /> -2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, black.<br /> -3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span>, yellow.<br /> -4. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span>, red.<br /> -5. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>, violet.<br /> -6. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>, indigo.<br /> -</p> - -<p>And thus orange, green, and blue would remain without -any corresponding terms. But, in truth, when we -examine further into Homer’s mode of employing his -adjectives of colour in detail, we shall perceive that he -is by no means so rich as this classification would allow.</p> - -<p>The other words which will presently be considered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span> -but which have very slight claims indeed to be treated -as adjectives of definite colour, are as follows:</p> - -<p> -1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρός.</span><br /> -2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλόεις.</span><br /> -3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδόεις.</span><br /> -4. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰόεις.</span><br /> -5. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἴνοψ.</span><br /> -6. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηος.</span><br /> -7. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθων.</span><br /> -8. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργός.</span><br /> -9. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴολος.</span><br /> -10. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκός.</span><br /> -11. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάροπος.</span><br /> -12. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σιγαλόεις.</span><br /> -13. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμάρεος.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Along with each of these adjectives, which are the -chief though not quite the only ones of their class in -Homer, I shall take the cognate words, such as verbs -or compounds, which may belong to them.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Applications of them.</i></div> - -<p>II. Let us now review the particular applications -which Homer has made of these words respectively. -Among them, however, it will not be necessary to include -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, because those epithets indicate -ideas which have at all times been used, to a considerable -extent, by way of approximation only.</p> - -<p>1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span> is applied by Homer to the following objects:</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> horses, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἵππων ξανθὰ κάρηνα</span>, Il. ix. 407.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> hair of men, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς Μενέλαος</span>, <i>passim</i>: Achilles, Il. -i. 197.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> hair of women, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὴ Ἀγαμήδη</span>, Il. xi. 739; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Δημήτηρ</span>, -Il. v. 500.</p> - -<p>2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span> is evidently the same word with the Latin -<i>ruber</i>, and with our own ‘ruddy,’ as well as probably -the German <i>roth</i>.</p> - -<p>It is used by Homer for</p> - -<p> -<i>a.</i> Copper in Il. ix. 365.<br /> -<i>b.</i> Nectar, Il. xix. 38.<br /> -<i>c.</i> Wine, Od. v. 93.<br /> -<i>d.</i> Blood: in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθαίνω</span>, Il. x. 484.<br /> -</p> - -<p>3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span> again is the Latin <i>purpura</i>, and our -‘purple,’ as well as our ‘porphyry.’ In the uses of this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span> -word we shall find for the first time a startling amount -of obvious discrepancy: and it will require to be considered -in the proper place, whether this discrepancy is -to be referred to a bold exercise of the Poet’s art, or -to an undeveloped knowledge and a consequently defective -standard of colour.</p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span> is employed as follows for objects -of sense:</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> Blood, Il. xvii. 361.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> Dark cloud, ibid. 551.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> Wave of a river when disturbed, Il. xxi. 326.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> Wave of the sea, Il. i. 482; and the disturbed sea, -Il. xvi. 391.</p> - -<p><i>e.</i> The ball with which the Phæacian dancers played, -Od. viii. 373.</p> - -<p><i>f.</i> Garments, as Il. viii. 221; Od. iv. 115.</p> - -<p><i>g.</i> Carpets, as Od. xxi. 151; Il. xxiv. 645.</p> - -<p><i>h.</i> The rainbow, Il. xvii. 547.</p> - -<p><i>i.</i> Metaphorically it is applied to Death, Il. v. 83: and, -as it would appear, to bloody death only.</p> - -<p>Further, the verb <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρω</span> is applied</p> - -<p> -<i>a.</i> to the sea darkening, Il. xiv. 16.<br /> -<i>b.</i> to the mind brooding, Il. xx. 551.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Again, the compound <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁλιπόρφυρος</span> is applied</p> - -<p> -<i>a.</i> to wool, Od. vi. 53.<br /> -<i>b.</i> to garments woven of it, Od. xiii. 108.<br /> -</p> - -<p>In this epithet we have the additional idea of the -sea introduced; and it literally means ‘sea-purple.’ -But I postpone any remark with respect to Homer’s -particular intention in the use of the word, until we -come to the epithets derived from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἴον</span>, a violet.</p> - -<p>Three forms of colour at least seem to be comprehended -under this group of words;</p> - -<p>1. The redness of blood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span></p> - -<p>2. The purple proper, as of the sea in Il. i. 482. To -this also probably belongs the rainbow, of whose seven -colours three may be said to belong to the family of -blue: and which is termed blue by Shakespeare.</p> - -<p>3. The grey and leaden colour of a dark cloud -when about to burst in storm, and of a river when disturbed.</p> - -<p>We shall hereafter see reason to suppose that the -word may also and often mean what is tawny or brown.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>.</i></div> - -<p>4. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> is very important in this inquiry; -and unfortunately it is not less obscure.</p> - -<p>It at once throws us back on the prior question, -what was <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>? But this question remains almost -wholly undetermined<a name="FNanchor_842_842" id="FNanchor_842_842"></a><a href="#Footnote_842_842" class="fnanchor">[842]</a>; so that we must follow, as well -as we can, the Homeric applications of the word itself, -together with its adjective and its compounds. These -are very numerous. First we have the substantive -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> introduced in three places: in each of which it -evidently belongs to a combination of colours as well -as of substances.</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> Once it is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> simply. The interior wall of the -hall of Alcinous is covered with sheets of copper<a name="FNanchor_843_843" id="FNanchor_843_843"></a><a href="#Footnote_843_843" class="fnanchor">[843]</a>; -and round the top is a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θριγκὸς</span> or fringe of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>. Od. -vii. 87.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> Twice it is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας κύανος</span>. On the breast-plate of -Agamemnon there are twenty stripes or layers of tin, -twelve of gold, and ten <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλανος κυάνοιο</span>. Il. xi. 24, Also;</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> Upon his shield there were ten rounds of copper; -and then, apparently on the face of the shield within -these, twenty white bosses (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄμφαλοι λευκοὶ</span>) made of -tin, if such be the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κασσίτερος</span>: in the centre -of all, there was one boss <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλανος κυάνοιο</span>. Il. xi. 35.</p> - -<p>Passing now to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>, we come next to three pass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span>ages -where it may be questioned whether they describe -colour only, or substance only, or both.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> Upon the breastplate of Agamemnon, which has -ten layers of black <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>, there are on either side three -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεοι δράκοντες</span> (Il. xi. 26). These are compared to -the rainbow, which, as we have already seen, is described -elsewhere as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφυρεή</span>.</p> - -<p><i>e.</i> On the silver-plated belt of Agamemnon there is -a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος δράκων</span>. Il. xi. 38, 9.</p> - -<p><i>f.</i> Around the golden vineyard on the shield of -Achilles, with its silver stakes, there is a fence of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κασσίτερος</span> -and a trench (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κάπετος</span>) described as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανέη</span>. Il. -xviii. 564.</p> - -<p>The other applications at once appear to have reference -to colour only.</p> - -<p><i>g.</i> To the eyebrows of Jupiter and Juno. Il. i. 528. -xv. 102. xvii. 209.</p> - -<p><i>h.</i> To a dark cloud of vapour; but not to a storm-cloud. -Il. xxiii. 188. v. 345. xx. 418.</p> - -<p><i>i.</i> To the hair of Hector, Il. xxii. 402; and to the -beard of Ulysses, when he is restored to beauty by -Minerva. Od. xvi. 176. With this we may compare -the hyacinthine hair of Ulysses in Od. vi. 231.</p> - -<p><i>j.</i> To the serried masses of the Greeks: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πυκιναὶ κίνυντο -φάλαγγες κυάνεαι</span>. Il. iv. 281. Now this epithet -must have been derived from their arms, and these -would probably be composed in the main of two elements, -not easy to combine in a common idea of colour; -firstly, copper, which is ruddy; and secondly, the hides -of oxen upon the shields and elsewhere. Homer never -(except in Il. xiii. 703, and Od. xiii. 32) describes these -animals by any epithet of colour. In those two passages -they are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βόε οἴνοπε</span>. This epithet will be considered -presently. In the meantime, we may assume it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span> -as probable, that a dark colour would predominate, and -that accordingly we should so understand <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεαι</span>: but -the leaning towards <i>blue</i>, which so often characterizes -the epithet, thus entirely escapes. The word is also applied -to the Trojan host, in Il. xvi. 66.</p> - -<p><i>k.</i> Thetis puts on mourning garments for Patroclus, -when about to appear to Achilles, Il. xxiv. 93.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">κάλυμμ’ ἕλε δῖα θεάων</div> - <div class="verse">κυάνεον· τοῦ δ’ οὔτι μελάντερον ἔπλετο ἔσθος.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here Homer is careful to inform us that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κάλυμμα</span>, -or hood and mantle, was the blackest garment possible; -and, since in Il. iv. 287 we find that he was acquainted -with pitch, we need not scruple to assume that here he -speaks literally, and either means a real black, which, -nevertheless, he also calls <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεον</span>, or sees no difference -between the genuine black and the colour of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>.</p> - -<p><i>l.</i> When the wave of Charybdis retires, the shore -appears <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ψάμμῳ κυανέῃ</span>. Now the colour of sea-sand, -when it has just been left by the wave, is a dull but -also rather a light brown.</p> - -<p>We take now the compounds.</p> - -<p>1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανοχαίτης</span> is applied</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> To Neptune, e. g. Il. xv. 174.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> To a mare, Il. xx. 224.</p> - -<p>2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανῶπις</span> is applied to Amphitrite, or the sea, -beating on rocks, Od. xii. 60.</p> - -<p>3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανόπεζα</span> is used for the foot of a beautiful table -(Il. xi. 628). Here possibly substance may be designated -rather than colour. Metal at the foot would -give steadiness to a table.</p> - -<p>4. We have <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανόπρωρος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανοπρώρειος</span> for the -prow of a ship. Evidently it is the coloured prow: for -otherwise the prow would be of the same hue with the -rest of the ship. (Il. xv. 693, <i>et alibi</i>.) So the prows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span> -of ships are called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηοι</span>, in Il. ii. 637, and Od. -ix. 125. Now <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μίλτος</span> was red earth or ochre; and yet -it seems that Homer uses <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηος</span> as equivalent to -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανόπρωρος</span>. For the first epithet is applied in the -Catalogue to the ships led by Ulysses; and the second -in Od. x. 127 to the vessel in which he sailed.</p> - -<p>The uses of this group of words thus appear to exhibit -a degree of indefiniteness, hardly reconcilable -with the supposition that Homer possessed accurate -ideas of colour. There is no one colour that can cover -them all. The hood of Thetis is closely akin to black; -the prow of a ship to at least a dull red; the sand is of -russet or a lightish brown; the cloud a leaden grey; the -hair and eyebrows are of a deep but not a dull colour; -the cornice in the hall of Alcinous must have been in -relief and contrast as compared with the copper wall, -and sufficiently light or clear to strike the eye at a distance, -in an interior lighted at night only from the -ground. With perhaps this exception, the word ‘dark’ -will cover all the uses of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>: but dark derives its -force from a relation to light, and not to colour.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ, πόλιος</span>.</i></div> - -<p>5. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιξ</span> in Homer is clearly a word descriptive of -colour: but it as clearly partakes of the indefinite character -attaching to the other words of the class.</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> The blood drawn by Pandarus from Menelaus is -compared to the colour <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span>, used for staining ivory. -In this simile, the sense leans to red, especially as the -hue of ivory is so near to that of flesh (Il. iv. 141). It -is mentioned in other places, probably with the same -sense, as an ornamental dye.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> In Il. xxiii. 454, we learn that one of the horses -of Diomed was <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span>, with a round white mark on his -forehead. Whether we render this bay or chestnut, it -is materially different from the red colour of blood.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span></p> - -<p><i>c.</i> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φοίνιος</span> is used for blood, Od. xviii. 96.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> As is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινὸς</span> in Il. xvi. 159.</p> - -<p><i>e.</i> And <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινικόεις</span> in Il. xxiii. 716. This word is also -applied to a cloak, Il. x. 133.</p> - -<p><i>f.</i> A dragon or serpent, borne by an eagle, is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινήεις</span>, -apparently because dappled or streaked with his own -blood, Il. xii. 200-6, 218-21.</p> - -<p><i>g.</i> Ships are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινικοπάρηοι</span>, Od. xi. 123, and xxiii. -272: this word is apparently synonymous with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηοι</span>.</p> - -<p><i>h.</i> The serpent is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δάφοινος ἐπὶ νῶτα</span>, Il. ii. 308. And -we have the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δάφοινον δέρμα λέοντος</span>, Il. x. 23.</p> - -<p>On the whole, we trace here not less than three senses: -that in which <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span> is applied to the horse, which -appears to be the equivalent of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span>, the more prevailing -word: next, that of the tawny and dull-coloured -lion’s hide: then that of the brighter but yet deep -colour of blood, which is freely called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>. So -that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span> merely renders other words, and does not -at all assist to make up deficiencies in the Homeric -vocabulary for the expression of colour.</p> - -<p>Considered as an epithet of colour, the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δάφοινος</span>, -meaning blood-red, is inappropriate to the dragon or -serpent, and further serves to illustrate that vagueness, -of which the signs multiply as we proceed.</p> - -<p>6. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος</span> is applied in Homer as follows:</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> To human hair in connection with old age, Il. -xxii. 74 <i>et alibi</i>.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> To the sea, Il. i. 350 <i>et passim</i>. It remains to inquire, -whether this refers to the sea, or to the foam -upon it.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> To iron, Il. ix. 366. xx. 261. Od. xxi. 3, 81. xxiv. -167.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> To the hide of a wolf, which Dolon put on for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span> -nocturnal expedition, Il. x. 334. The meaning of the -word here appears to be not ‘gray’ but ‘white.’ It is -Homer’s evident intention to exhibit Dolon as a sort -of simpleton<a name="FNanchor_844_844" id="FNanchor_844_844"></a><a href="#Footnote_844_844" class="fnanchor">[844]</a> (x. 316, 17); and accordingly he takes a -white covering, which makes him visible to the eye by -night, so that Ulysses saw him (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φράσατο</span>, 339).</p> - -<p>The last, then, of these four uses is <i>white</i>. The first -clearly inclines to the same idea. The second might -bear either of two senses. But iron cannot be brought -nearer to white, even if we assume it to be always -polished, than a bluish grey; which, in truth, is somewhat -distant from white. It will, moreover, be seen, -that Homer also describes iron as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθων</span>, and as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰόεις</span>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The quasi-adjectives of colour.</i></div> - -<p>I now come to the class of words, in dealing with -which it will be shown that they have not in general -even the pretensions of those that have preceded to be -treated as adjectives of definite colour.</p> - -<p>7. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> is used in Homer,</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> Chiefly in a metaphorical sense, as directly descriptive -of fear.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> For the paleness of the face derived from fear, as -in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωροὶ ὑπαὶ δείους</span>, Il. x. 376 and xv. 4. This use -discloses to us the basis of the last-named metaphor.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> For twigs, apparently when fresh-pulled by Eumæus -to make a bed for Ulysses, who was an unexpected -guest; Od. xvi. 47.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> For honey, Il. xi. 630: where it must mean either -pale, or fresh.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span></p> -<p><i>e.</i> For the olive-wood club of the Cyclops in Od. ix. -320, 379. Here, for the first time, we find the word -applied to an object that might perhaps be called green. -But still there are two observations to be made. First, -even the leaf of the olive is rather grey than green: -and this is the bark, not the leaf, which is yet more -grey, and yet less green. Secondly, the governing idea -is not the greenness, but the newness: for Ulysses says -that he heated it in the ashes until it was about to -take fire, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρός περ ἐών</span>; although freshly cut, and still -seething with the sap.</p> - -<p><i>f.</i> The derivative <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρηῒς</span> is applied to the nightingale -in Od. xix. 518, as a lover of the woods: and -here the idea of greenness seems to be rather less -faintly indicated.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, then, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> indicates rather the -absence than the presence of definite colour, although -it is derived from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλοὴ</span>, meaning young herbage. If -regarded as an epithet of colour, it involves at once an -hopeless contradiction between the colour of honey on -the one side, and greenness on the other. Again, the -more we assume it to mean green, the more startling -it becomes that it could have taken paleness, as is manifestly -the case, for its governing idea. Next to paleness, -it serves chiefly for freshness, i. e. as opposed to -what is stale or withered: a singular combination with -the former sense. The idea of green we scarcely find, -unless once, connected with this word in the poems of -Homer: and yet it is a remarkable fact that there is -no other word in the poems that can even be supposed -to represent a colour, which, not the rainbow only, but -every day nature, presents so largely to the eye.</p> - -<p>8. I take next the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλόεις</span>. The Homeric -sense of this word seems somewhat to resemble that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span> -of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>; although there is the difference between -them, that the derivation here is from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθάλη</span>, soot.</p> - -<p>This epithet is applied by Homer, in sufficient conformity, -as is contended, with the idea of soot,</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> To the interior of the palace of Ulysses, Od. xxii. -239, and to that of Priam, Il. ii. 415. In the latter -case the word will, as it appears from the context, -bear to be construed with reference to the state of a -house blackened by a conflagration.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> To the dark ash <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κόνις αἰθαλόεσσα</span>, which Achilles -poured over his head, Il. xviii. 23, and which, in ver. 25, is -called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλαινα τέφρη</span>: this material Laertes also used for -the same purpose in Od. xxiv. 315. Yet the propriety -of the second of these two applications depends, first, -upon the rather hardy supposition, that both Achilles -and Laertes had by them, at the moment of their sorrow, -the remains of a wood-fire; and, secondly, upon -the assumption that the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κόνις</span> may mean fire-ashes -as well as dust in general. But we may doubt both of -these assumptions; while, if <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κόνις</span> means ‘dust,’ and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλόεις</span> ‘sooty,’ it becomes plain that this epithet is -used, like others, with very great latitude.</p> - -<p>9. It may be admitted that, at a first view, the -words <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδόεις</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδοδάκτυλος</span> would appear to be in -the strictest sense epithets of colour. But it still -would seem that they add nothing to Homer’s defective -means of expressing it: and not only so, but, in -fact, scanty as is their use, it is so little congruous, that -we are driven to suppose he must have employed these -words in a sense not only elastic, but altogether indeterminate -and purely figurative.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ῥοδοδάκτυλος</span>, or rosy-fingered, has become, through -Homer’s example and authority, a classical epithet for -the morning. It is, however, more open to criticism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span> -than is usually the case with the Homeric epithets. -There is nothing strange in personifying Morn, in order -to embellish her with an epithet belonging to personal -beauty; but redness, applied to the fingers, and not -merely to their tips, is more than equivocal in this respect, -since that colour is only even admissible in the interior -of the hand, which is the part not seen, and therefore -presumably the part not intended in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδοδάκτυλος</span>.</p> - -<p>There are certain very fugitive tints of the sky, -which approach to the hue of the rose: but if Homer -had the colour of that flower definitely in his view, it -is most singular that he should never use it, either -for the human form or otherwise, except on this and -one other occasion only.</p> - -<p>The nature of that other occasion is yet more -strange. Hector’s corpse is anointed, in Il. xxiii. 186, -with rosy oil, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδόεντι ἐλαίῳ</span>. It does not appear allowable -to follow Damm in rendering this as oil <i>made from</i> -roses: for we have no such thing as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔλαιον</span> in Homer, -except from the olive-tree. It therefore applies to the -hue of olive oil: and no conceivable use of an epithet -could be more conclusive to show an extreme vagueness -in the Poet’s ideas of colour, as well as probably -in those of his age.</p> - -<p>10. The violet, no less than the rose, has supplied -Homer with epithets, which he has used in such a manner -as to deprive them of all specific force as vehicles -for the expression of a peculiar colour.</p> - -<p>There is certainly a great temptation, when we find -in Homer the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰοειδέα πόντον</span>, to give him credit for the -full meaning of this very beautiful epithet, which he -uses thrice for the sea (Il. ix. 298, Od. v. 55, xi. 106), -and never in any other connection. But when we -examine his employment of cognate words, it is obvious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span> -that he can mean little more by the epithet, than to -convey a rather vague idea of darkness.</p> - -<p>For he uses <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰόεις</span> as an epithet for iron (Il. xxiii. -850): and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰοδνεφὴς</span>, first for the wool (Od. iv. 135) with -which Helen is spinning. Here we might be tempted -to presume a purple dye. Yet it would be a somewhat -strained supposition: for what title have we to say -that dyeing was in use among the Greeks of the Homeric -age? Do we hear of any dye except that of the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span>, a name which tends to indicate a foreign character? -And does not the introduction of the Mæonian -or Carian woman in the simile of Il. iv. 141, to stain -the ivory—a most simple example of the art, or scarcely -an example at all—afford a strong presumption, that the -art was foreign to Greece? Such is apparently the true -inference: but, if it be the true one, then we at once -lose the specific force of purple for all the mantles, -carpets, and the like, in the poems; and we are only -entitled to presume them to have been woven of a -dark wool.</p> - -<p>This construction is supported by the second and -only other passage, in which Homer has used the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἰοδνεφής</span>. For here (Od. ix. 426) he speaks of the -living sheep of Polyphemus as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">καλοί τε μεγάλοι τε, ἰοδνεφὲς εἶρος ἔχοντες.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This passage appears evidently to apply to what we term -black sheep, which are more strictly of a dark brown. -So viewed, it affords another most striking token of the -indeterminateness of Homeric colours, that the name -of the violet can be employed with such a signification. -And it also seems to carry forward the proof that the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεαι χλαῖναι</span>, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥήγεα</span>, and all other woven objects -with that epithet annexed, were in reality either black -or brown.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span></p> - -<p>11. Homer employs the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἴνοψ</span> with evident -relation to colour; but it is for two objects only, viz.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>a.</i> For oxen, in Il. xiii. 703, and Od. xiii. 32.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> For the sea, without reference to any peculiar -state of it, in Il. i. 350, <i>et alibi</i>.</p></div> - -<p>There is no small difficulty in combining these two -uses by reference to the idea of a common colour. -The sea is blue, grey, or green. Oxen are black, bay, -or brown. I do not refer to their lighter colours, -which are excluded by the nature of the epithet. It is -remarkable that, among colours properly so called, -Homer has none whatever, derived from the name of -an object, that are light, unless it be in the case of the -rose. The violet, the unknown <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span>, the -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλὴ</span>, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁλιπόρφυρος</span>, the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρη</span>, whatever else they -may be, are all dark. And to this class <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἴνοψ</span> evidently -belongs.</p> - -<p>Wine is mentioned by Homer in nearly one hundred -and forty places: in the majority of them it has -an epithet: but only ten times is it described by an -epithet of colour. Of these two are used for it, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span> -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>; so that he plainly conceived of it as dark, -but probably without a determinate hue. He more -frequently calls it <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθοψ</span>: but this word, which fluctuates -between the ideas of flame and smoke, either -means tawny, or else refers to light, and not to colour, -and bears the sense of sparkling.</p> - -<p>Thus then <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἴνοψ</span>, like so many other words that we -have gone through, vaguely indicates a dark hue, but -cannot be referred to any one of the known principal -colours.</p> - -<p>12. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μιλτοπάρηος</span> has already been disposed -of in connection with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοίνιξ</span>.</p> - -<p>13. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθων</span> is applied in Homer</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>a.</i> to horses, as in Il. ii. 839; viii. 185.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> to iron, as in Od. i. 184.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> to a lion, as in Il. x. 23.</p> - -<p><i>d.</i> to copper utensils, as in Il. ix. 123; xxiv. 233.</p> - -<p><i>e.</i> to a bull, Il. xvi. 488; and to oxen, Od. xviii. 371.</p> - -<p><i>f.</i> to an eagle, Il. xv. 690.</p></div> - -<p>With this word we may take its compound <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθοψ</span>. -It is used</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><i>a.</i> for wine, as we have seen.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> for copper, Il. iv. 495 <i>et alibi</i>.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> for smoke, Od. x. 152.</p></div> - -<p>We have also the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰθίοπες</span>, men of the tawny or -swarthy countenance, beneath the Southern sun.</p> - -<p>In what manner are we to find a common thread -upon which to hang the colours of iron, copper, horses, -lions, bulls, eagles, wine, swarthy men, and smoke? We -must here again adopt the vague word ‘dark,’ a word -of light and not of colour, for the purpose. But as -the idea of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθω</span> includes flame struggling with smoke, -so there may be a flash of light upon the dark object. -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ψολόεις</span>, sooty or smutty, belongs to the same group -with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθαλόεις</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθων</span>, and need not, therefore, be -separately discussed.</p> - -<p>All the remainder of the words noted for examination -are to be dealt with in two groups, each referable -to a single idea: the first that of motion, and the second -that of light.</p> - -<p>14, 15. Among adjectives of motion, which have -sometimes been improperly treated as adjectives of -colour, are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄργος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴολος</span>. The former acquires an -affinity to <i>white</i>, because it may signify an object which, -from being rapidly moved, assumes in the light the -appearance of whiteness<a name="FNanchor_845_845" id="FNanchor_845_845"></a><a href="#Footnote_845_845" class="fnanchor">[845]</a>, and along with it may be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span> -placed its derivatives <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργεννὸς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργεστὴς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργὴς</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργινόεις</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργιόδους</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργίπους</span>, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργικέραυνος</span>. The latter, -as in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴολος ὄφις</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴολος ἵππος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κορυθαίολος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόδας αἴολος</span>, -seems to mean whatever from the same cause appears -to shift its hues.</p> - -<p>16. Of those adjectives of light in Homer, which -have also been taken for adjectives of colour, the most -important is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκός</span>. Its uses, however, are only as -follows:</p> - -<p><i>a.</i> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκὴ θάλασσα</span>, Il. xvi. 34.</p> - -<p><i>b.</i> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γλαυκῶπις</span>, the standing epithet, and even a proper -name, of Minerva, Il. viii. 406.</p> - -<p><i>c.</i> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκιόων</span>; applied to the eye of a lion, when, -reaching the height of his wrath, he makes his rush at -the hunters, Il. xx. 172.</p> - -<p>The last of these passages seems effectually to fix -the sense of the term. The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκιόων</span> describes -a progression. The lion does not enhance the colour -of his eye as he waxes angry. If, for example, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκὸς</span> -can be taken as blue, it certainly does not become -more blue: on the contrary, rage, when kindling fire -in the eye, rather subdues its peculiar tint by flooding -it with a vivid light. So the word seems clearly to -refer to the brightening flash of the eye under the influence -of passion. Of light and its movement, as also -of sound, and of beautiful form, Homer’s conceptions -are even more distinct and lively, than those of colour -are, if not dull, yet at least indeterminate.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γλαυκὸς</span> is derived from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαύσσω</span>; and has for its -root <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λάω</span>, to see. The meaning of bright or flashing -will suit the sea, as well as the epithet blue. And it -suits Minerva far better. ‘Blue-eyed’ would be for -her but a tame epithet. The luminous eye, on the -contrary, entirely accords with her character, and be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span>longs -to a marked trait of those primitive traditions, -which she appears to represent<a name="FNanchor_846_846" id="FNanchor_846_846"></a><a href="#Footnote_846_846" class="fnanchor">[846]</a>.</p> - -<p>17. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Χάροπος</span> is applied to the lion in Od. xi. 611; -and it is the proper name of the father of Nireus in -the Catalogue, while his mother is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀγλαΐη</span>. From -this latter use we see that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάροπος</span> is not in Homer an -epithet of colour; since he never describes the face by -means of colour. Its etymology refers us to gladsomeness; -and this is much more connected, in the Poet’s -mind, with light than with colour.</p> - -<p>18, 19. Besides these we have</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σιγαλόεις</span>, glossy, like <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σίαλος</span>, or fat; and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμάρεος</span>, applied</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<div><i>a.</i> to a web, Il. iii. 126.</div> - -<div><i>b.</i> to the Ægis, Il. xvii. 594.</div> - -<div><i>c.</i> to the sea, Il. xiv. 273.</div> - -<div><i>d.</i> to the rim of the Shield, Il. xviii. 480.</div> - -</div></div> - -<p>We have also the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμαρυγαὶ ποδῶν</span> (Od. viii. 265), or -twinkling of the feet in the dance: and the verb <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμαίρω</span> -is applied to the eyes of Venus (Il. iii. 397), to arms -(Il. xii. 195 <i>et alibi</i>), and to the golden palace of Neptune -(Il. xiii. 22). The marble, from which the words -are derived, was white: but that signification would -not suit any of the uses of the words, except the -web of Helen. The sense, that will suit them, is one -derived from the idea of light, that of glittering or -sparkling.</p> - -<p>Lastly: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠεροειδὴς</span> (Il. v. 770; Od. xiii. 103) is so evidently -an atmospheric epithet only, that it requires no -detailed discussion. It is worthy of note, as it indicates -the idea of atmospheric transparency.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Conflict of colours in the same object.</i></div> - -<p>III. We might have attained to some nearly similar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span> -results, by taking the names of substantives in Homer, -and considering the differences in the epithets of colour -by which he describes them.</p> - -<p>Thus, for example, iron is violet, grey, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθων</span> or -tawny. There is a certain opposition between the first -and second: a very marked one between the second and -third. When considered as names of colour, they cannot -be reconciled, but they may perhaps be made in some -degree to harmonize by introducing the element of -light. Iron is dark or tawny if in the shade: while -under light it may appear grey.</p> - -<p>Again, the dragon, or serpent, which is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δάφοινος</span> in -Il. ii. 308, is also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> in Il. xi. 26; and is compared -to the rainbow, which is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφυρέη</span> in Il. xvii. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Δάφοινος</span>, -being applied to the lion’s hide in Il. x. 23, is essentially -of a dull colour, but the rainbow is as essentially bright. -Here, again, the only mode of harmonizing is by the -supposition that Homer really regulates the use of -those epithets according to light; and thus the same -object may be dull and bright in different positions.</p> - -<p>Again, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κέραυνος</span> is in composition white (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργικέραυνος</span>): -but it is also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ψολοεὶς</span>, smutty. In truth it is neither: -but its near connection both with light and with darkness -will admit of its being referred to either.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Great predominance of white and black.</i></div> - -<p>IV. I have next to notice the vast predominance in -Homer of the two simple opposites, white and black, -which may be called, perhaps, the elemental forms of -colour: white being the compound of the seven prismatic -colours in their natural proportions, and black -the absence, or simple negative, of them all.</p> - -<p>The adjective <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, or ‘black,’ is used, in its different -degrees, cases, and numbers, about one hundred -and seventy times. Besides this, we have the verb -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μελαίνω</span>, and several compounds from the adjective. It -also forms a very frequent element in proper names.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span></p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span>, or ‘white,’ is used nearly sixty -times: its compound <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκώλενος</span> forty more, but almost -all of these as the stock-epithet of Juno, which should -not be taken into the account. We have also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκαίνω</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λεύκασπις</span>, and some proper names. But this by no -means exhausts Homer’s means of expressing whiteness. -For that purpose he also uses <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμάρεος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σιγαλόεις</span>, -perhaps <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος</span>, and an extensive group of words -having <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργὸς</span> for its centre. In all, whiteness, or something -intended for it, may perhaps be thus expressed -one hundred times or more.</p> - -<p>Now assuming for the moment that adjectives of -colour, in the prismatic sense of the word, are found in -Homer, still it is remarkable how rarely they are found, -in comparison with whiteness and blackness.</p> - -<p>For example: except as a proper name, and as the -stock-epithet of Menelaus, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span> is, I think, hardly -found ten times in Homer. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἰόεις</span>, and its cognate -words, come but six times: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥοδόεις</span> is an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἅπαξ λεγόμενον</span>: -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μίλτος</span> is only introduced in its compound twice; -yet it is probably the best <i>red</i> in Homer: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθαίνω</span> come but thirteen times: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span> and the -kindred words are found in all twenty-three times; but -it has, I think, been shown that this word was wanting, -with Homer, in the ingredient of specific colour, and -only implied what was dark, whether brown, crimson, -purple, or even black.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Omissions to specify colour.</i></div> - -<p>V. It remains to complete this circle of evidence, -by adducing cases where Homer’s omission to name -colour, or to describe by means of it, is deserving of -remark.</p> - -<p>1. Homer’s similes are so rich in the use of all sensible -imagery, that we might have expected to find -colour a frequent and prominent ingredient in them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[478]</a></span> -But it is not so. They turn chiefly, I think, upon the -following ideas:</p> - -<p> -1. Motion.<br /> -2. Force.<br /> -3. Form.<br /> -4. Sound.<br /> -5. Symmetry.<br /> -6. Number.<br /> -7. Light and Darkness.<br /> -8. Very rarely, upon Colour.<br /> -</p> - -<p>In the greater part of them colour is not even mentioned. -I have seen the similes of the poems reckoned -at two hundred: and I have found it difficult to note -more than three which turn upon colour, even when it -is vaguely conceived.</p> - -<p>The first is the blood of Menelaus, compared to a -crimson dye, on the cheek-piece of a horse, Il. iv. 141.</p> - -<p>The second, the meditations of Nestor, likened to -the darkening of the sea before a storm, Il. xiv. -16-22.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, the cloud in which Minerva is wrapped is -compared to the rainbow, Il. xvii. 547-52.</p> - -<p>Of these the second is very indefinite: the idea of -the first, as we have seen, was inaccurately and loosely -conceived: and the third is one of the most striking -proofs of the want of a close discrimination of colours -in Homer.</p> - -<p>Yet here again we may find life and beauty in the -passage, if only we construe it of a cloud illuminated by -the rays falling on it. Indeed, generally the element of -light brings us back to Homer’s usual definiteness, when -his use of colour makes him obscure.</p> - -<p>2. Again, in the numerous and very exact epithets -by which the Poet has described the form and appearance -of different countries, we scarcely find any epithet -of colour. Out of about sixty of these epithets in the -Greek Catalogue, there are but three that refer to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span> -colour, and these all mention whiteness only (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργινόεις</span>, -Il. ii. 647, 656, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκός</span>, ibid. 735).</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>In the case of the horse.</i></div> - -<p>3. It is most singular that, though Homer so loved -the horse that he is never weary of using him with his -whole heart for the purposes of poetry, yet in all his -animated and beautiful descriptions of this animal, -colour should be so little prominent. It is said, indeed, -that Homer tells us the horses of Eumelus corresponded -in colour (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅτριχες</span> Il. ii. 765); but what the -colour was we know not; and the question may also -be raised, whether the epithet employed does not more -properly indicate similarity in the fineness of their coat. -Perhaps the only cases, where colour is distinctly assigned -to horses, are the following two:</p> - -<p>First, that of the horses of Rhesus. There the -colour is the negative one of whiteness, which seems, -with its counterpart blackness, to have been so much -more present to the mind of Homer than any intermediate -colour. These horses were (Il. x. 437) <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκότεροι -χιόνος</span>. And afterwards Nestor in a noble line declares -them like, not to anything having colour, but to the -rays of the sun (Il. x. 547). Thus reappears the old -identification in Homer’s mind of light and colour. -There is, however, another reason to which it may be -suspected that we owe the mention of colour in this -instance: namely, that the whiteness is intended to -make them visible in the gloom, and thus to assist the -capture by night.</p> - -<p>The second case is, that of the horse of Diomed in -the chariot-race. Here Idomeneus mentions the bay -or chestnut colour (Il. xxiii. 454) with the white mark, -but then it is the only means of identifying the master, -which is essential to his purpose in the speech. -Apart from these special reasons, Homer speaks in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[480]</a></span>deed -twice of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὰ κάρηνα</span> of horses; this, however, -is of horses in the abstract. Nestor (Il. xi. 680) -mentions a set of one hundred and fifty mares all with -colour, that is to say, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθαί</span>: a new proof of the lax use -of the word, as they would hardly be all alike.</p> - -<p>Among the four horses of Hector (Il. viii. 185), the -two of the Atreidæ (Il. xxiii. 295), and the three of -Achilles (xvi. 475) we find only the name Xanthus -which is clearly referable to colour: and this is in -truth the only colour which, besides white, he ever -gives to his horses. For it is more probable that by -the name <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βάλιος</span> he meant to refer to the effect of light -from rapidity of motion: while <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἴθη</span> in Il. xxiii. 409, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἴθων</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Λάμπος</span> (Il. viii. 485) may signify brightness -or darkness indeed, but neither of these is colour.</p> - -<p>Again, in the magnificent simile of the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στάτος ἵππος</span> -there is no colour. The three thousand horses of Erichthonius -(Il. x. 221) have no colour. The horses of Diomed -(Il. v. 257) have none. Nor have the heaven-born -horses of Tros, nor those which Anchises bred from them -(Il. v. 265. <i>et seqq.</i>). None of the teams for the race -in Il. xxiii. have colour. Lastly; Homer abounds in -characteristic and set epithets for horses, such as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὠκὺς</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὠκύπους</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποδώκης</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μώνυξ</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐριαύχην</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀερσίπους</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐΰσκαρθμος</span>, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὑψήχης</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλλίθριξ</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ταχὺς</span>, and others; but none of them -are taken from colour.</p> - -<p>Yet colour is in horses a thing so prominent that it -seems, wherever they are at all individualized, almost to -force itself into the description. Let us take two examples -allied in their beauty, although separated in -birth by twenty-two hundred years. The first is from -Euripides, where the Chorus in <i>Iphigenia in Aulide</i> -describes the Grecian host before embarcation<a name="FNanchor_847_847" id="FNanchor_847_847"></a><a href="#Footnote_847_847" class="fnanchor">[847]</a>.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span></p> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὁ δὲ διφρηλάτας βοᾶτ’</div> - <div class="verse">Εὔμηλος Φερητιάδας,</div> - <div class="verse">ᾧ καλλίστους εἰδόμαν</div> - <div class="verse">χρυσοδαιδάλτους στομίοισι πώλους</div> - <div class="verse">κέντρῳ θεινομένους, τοὺς μὲν μέσ-</div> - <div class="verse">σους ζυγίους, λευκοστίκτῳ τριχὶ</div> - <div class="verse">βαλιοὺς, τοὺς δ’ ἐξὼ σειραφόρους,</div> - <div class="verse">ἀντήρεις καμπαῖσι δρόμων</div> - <div class="verse">πυῤῥότριχας, μονόχαλα δ’ ὑπὸ σφυρὰ</div> - <div class="verse">ποικιλοδέρμονας.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The second, also eminently beautiful, is from Macaulay, -where in the ‘Battle of the Lake Regillus’, after -the deadly conflict of Mamilius and Herminius, he describes -what then happened to their steeds.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Fast, fast, with heels wild spurning,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The <i>dark-grey</i> charger fled;</div> - <div class="verse">He burst through ranks of fighting men,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">He sprang o’er heaps of dead....</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">But like a graven image</div> - <div class="verse indent2"><i>Black</i> Auster kept his place,</div> - <div class="verse">And ever wistfully he looked</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Into his master’s face.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>How characteristically the element of colour enters -into these admirable descriptions.</p> - -<p>4. It is not, however, the case of the horse alone, on -which an argument may be founded. Homer abounds -with notices of other animals, both domesticated and -wild. We have oxen, dogs, goats, hogs, and sheep. -None of his stock epithets for them are drawn from -colour; and we have seen that by his wine-coloured -oxen, and his violet-coloured sheep, he, in all likelihood, -means no more than dark or tawny. His epithets for -wild animals are of the same character when they occur, -and similarly depend on the scale of degrees between -light and darkness, not upon colour. Once he mentions<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span> -a white goose (Od. xv. 161); but it is borne on high in -the talons of an eagle, and the object evidently is to -create a clear visual image.</p> - -<p>5. I would not lay overmuch stress on the fact, that -Homer never refers to colour in connection with the -human frame, unless as regards the hair, which is -either <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>: expressions which, as we shall -see, are apparent exceptions, and not real ones. The -olive hue of the Mediterranean latitudes makes colour -a less prominent element in human beauty for a Greek -climate, than it is for ours. Still its almost entire exclusion -is an element in the case. One instance that I -have noticed, which introduces it, adds to the general -mass of testimony. When Minerva (Od. xvi. 175) restores -the beauty of Ulysses, the expression is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἂψ δὲ μελαγχροιὴς -γένετο</span>. Now this certainly does not mean that -his flesh became black again. It can only signify that -he resumed the olive tint, which was associated with -personal vigour and beauty. So that even the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> of -Homer means dark, and is indefinite: as might indeed -be shown by many other instances.</p> - -<p>6. Lastly, it seems to deserve remark, that there is -not one single epithet of Iris taken from colour. She -is once, and only once, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χρυσόπτερος</span> (Il. viii. 398); but -this is in virtue of her office, and has no relation to -the rainbow; as, indeed, gold with Homer always -belongs to light rather than to colour. All her other -epithets, without exception, are taken from motion only. -She is swift (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὠκέα</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τάχεια</span>), swift of foot (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόδας -ὠκέα</span>), swift as the wind (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ποδήνεμος</span>), storm-footed (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀελλόπους</span><a name="FNanchor_848_848" id="FNanchor_848_848"></a><a href="#Footnote_848_848" class="fnanchor">[848]</a>), -but from colour she derives no part whatever -of her Homeric costume. Now though the chain of -traditions which identified Iris with the rainbow was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[483]</a></span> -broken<a name="FNanchor_849_849" id="FNanchor_849_849"></a><a href="#Footnote_849_849" class="fnanchor">[849]</a>, yet the traces of it were not wholly lost. -For Homer treated the rainbow, physically, as a prophet -of storm (Il. xvii. 548): and again, we find that she was -still tempest-footed. This epithet can only be derived -from her original relation to the rainbow. It is therefore -highly instructive, that none of her traits of colour -should have been preserved.</p> - -<p>Lastly, let us take the case of the sky, or the heavens. -Here Homer had before him the most perfect example -of blue. Yet he never once so describes the sky. -His <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐρανὸς</span> is starry (Il. i. 317), or broad (Il. iii. 364), -or great (Il. i. 497), or iron (Od. xv. 328), or copper -(Od. iii. 2. Il. xvii. 425); but it is never blue. This is -an important piece of negative testimony.</p> - -<p>We have now before us a pretty large, though I by no -means venture to suppose it a complete, collection of -the facts of the case.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Causes of this peculiar treatment.</i></div> - -<p>I submit that they warrant the two following propositions:</p> - -<p>1. That Homer’s perceptions of the prismatic colours, -or colours of the rainbow, which depend on the decomposition -of light by refraction, and <i>a fortiori</i> of their -compounds, were, as a general rule, vague and indeterminate.</p> - -<p>2. That we must therefore seek another basis for -his system of colour.</p> - -<p>But a few words may be permitted on the cause -which has led to his treatment of the subject in a -manner so different from that of the moderns.</p> - -<p>Are we justified in referring it to his reputed blindness?</p> - -<p>Are we to suppose a defect in his organization, or in -that of his countrymen?</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[484]</a></span></p> -<p>Or are we to reject altogether the idea of defect, and -to treat his use of colour as one conceived in the spirit -which, with even the most perfect knowledge, would -properly belong to his art?</p> - -<p>The mere tradition of Homer’s blindness is hardly -relevant. The presumption of it drawn from the -poems, because they make Demodocus blind, is inappreciably -minute. The testimony of the Hymn to -Apollo is ancient<a name="FNanchor_850_850" id="FNanchor_850_850"></a><a href="#Footnote_850_850" class="fnanchor">[850]</a>; but, as his blindness (if he really -was blind) allowed of the most vivid conceptions of light, -it will not account for defectiveness in his conceptions -of colour. The vigorous apprehension and accurate description -of sensible objects in the poems demonstrate, -that we cannot seek in this hypothesis for an explanation -of what may be either singular, crude, or irregular.</p> - -<p>Neither can we resort to the supposition of anything, -that is to be properly called a defect in his organization; -when we bear in mind his intense feeling for form, and -when we observe his effective and powerful handling -of the ideas of light and dark.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>License of Poetry as to colour.</i></div> - -<p>Our answer to the third question must also, I think, -be in the negative. It is true, indeed, that much of -merely literal discrepancy as to colour might be understood -to appertain to the license of poetry. There is -high poetical effect in what may be called straining -epithets of colour. But it seems essential to that -effect,</p> - -<p>(1.) That the straining should be the exception, and -not the rule.</p> - -<p>(2.) That there should be a fixed standard of the -colour itself, so that the departures from it may be -measured. Otherwise the result is not license, but -confusion. Shakespeare with high effect says<a name="FNanchor_851_851" id="FNanchor_851_851"></a><a href="#Footnote_851_851" class="fnanchor">[851]</a>,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[485]</a></span></p><div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">Here lay Duncan,</div> - <div class="verse">His silver skin laced with his golden blood.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here the idea is not that silver is of the same colour -as skin, nor gold as blood; but that the relation of -colour between silver and gold may be compared with -that between skin and blood: the skin throws the -blood into relief, as a ground of silver would throw out -a projection of gold. In license of this kind we can -always trace both a rule and an aim. The rule is relaxed -only for the particular occasion. The effect produced -is that of tenderness, dignity, and purity. Had -Shakespeare been describing the horrible carnage of a -battlefield, he probably would have spoken of black or -foul gore instead of using a brightening figure.</p> - -<p>Now this purpose is not traceable in Homer’s use of -certain words, if we are required to treat them as adjectives -of colour. There is no Poet, whose <i>rationale</i> is -commonly more accessible; but these cases, upon such -a principle, do not admit of a <i>rationale</i> at all.</p> - -<p>Take for instance his use of the rainbow. It is -(1) <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφυρέη</span>, and (2) like a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δράκων</span>, which is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>. Of -these, the first may be construed dark with a hue of -crimson; the second, dark with a hue of deep blue or -indigo. Surely we have here, viewing it as a whole, a -most inadequate treatment of the colours of the rainbow. -Shakespeare indeed says<a name="FNanchor_852_852" id="FNanchor_852_852"></a><a href="#Footnote_852_852" class="fnanchor">[852]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and again, in the Tempest, Ceres addresses Iris thus<a name="FNanchor_853_853" id="FNanchor_853_853"></a><a href="#Footnote_853_853" class="fnanchor">[853]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown</div> - <div class="verse">My bosky acres....</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But (1) blue differs from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>, which is essen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[486]</a></span>tially -dark, and is not blue. (2) Blue, taken largely, represents -three of the seven prismatic colours: i. e. indigo -and purple along with itself. (3) In the last quoted -passage, Iris is also called ‘many-coloured messenger,’ -and with ‘saffron wings.’ How different an effect do these -words give, as they form a whole, from that of the simile -in Il. xvii. In what manner then are we to understand -Homer? I answer, in the way of metaphor; and with reference -to light and dark, not to prismatic colour. The -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δράκοντες</span> on the buckler and belt are dark and terrible: -so is the storm of which Iris is the type, and it is in -viewing the rainbow as a type of what is awful, that we -are to find the reason of Homer’s simply treating it as -dark, and not as a series and system of colours. Perhaps -we ought not to overlook the possibility that Homer -may also mean to compare the shifting hues of the serpent -with the varied appearance of the rainbow.</p> - -<p>Again, let us take his use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μελαγχροίης</span>. Now the -question is, did Homer mean by this simply to express -darkness, that is to say was <i>dark</i> his idea of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, or -did he, with the specific idea of black in his mind, use -the term which denoted it poetically for the olive complexion -of Ulysses? Surely the former: for the latter -use of it would have been bad. It would have been -straining the figure in the wrong direction. For blackness -would be a fitting trope only where the object was -to describe something awful or repulsive.</p> - -<p>But beauty of form in Homer always leans to light -hues and not to dark ones, whence the Greeks are <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθοὶ</span>, -and the Trojan Hector, though beautiful, is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> only. -Therefore it was not Homer’s object to give an enhanced -idea of darkness in the tints of Ulysses. And yet, if -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> for him meant specifically black, then <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μελαγχροίης</span> -was the height of exaggeration in the wrong sense. But -if by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> he only understood dark, that was a fair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[487]</a></span> -description of the olive tint, as compared with the -withered and shrivelled skin of old age.</p> - -<p>We have other proofs from the poems that Homer -conceived of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> as dark, and not specifically as -black. The former idea accords best with his calling -earth <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, when it is fresh behind the plough (Il. -xviii. 548): and his calling blood <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, not stagnant -gore, but blood fresh as it comes spurting from the -wound (Il. i. 303),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αἶψά τοι αἷμα κελαινὸν ἐρωήσει περὶ δουρί·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and again, the fresh blood of Venus herself: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μελαίνετο δὲ -χρόα καλόν</span> (Il. v. 354). It would be bad poetry to call -the blood of Venus <i>black</i>, for the same reasons which -make it good poetry in Shakespeare to call the blood of -Duncan golden. So the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας πόντος</span> of Il. xxiv. 79 is -evidently no more than dark; though in vii. 64 we may -properly say the sea blackens.</p> - -<p>So again with wine-coloured oxen, smutty thunder-bolts, -violet-coloured sheep, and many more, it is surely -conclusive against taking them for descriptions of prismatic -colours or their compounds, that they would be -bad descriptions in their several kinds.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homer’s means of training in colour.</i></div> - -<p>We must then seek for the basis of Homer’s system -with respect to colour in something outside our own. -And it may prepare us the more readily to acknowledge -such a basis elsewhere, if we bear in mind, that many of -the great elements and sources of colour for us presented -themselves differently to him. The olive hue of the skin -kept down the play of white and red. The hair tended -much more uniformly, than with us, to darkness. The -sense of colour was less exercised by the culture of -flowers. The sun sooner changed the spring-greens of -the earth into brown. Glass, one of our instruments of -instruction, did not exist. The rainbow would much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[488]</a></span> -more rarely meet the view. The art of painting was -wholly, and that of dyeing was almost, unknown; and -we may estimate the importance of this element of the -case by recollecting how much, with the advance of chemistry, -the taste of this country in colour has improved -within the last twenty years. The artificial colours, -with which the human eye was conversant, were chiefly -the ill-defined, and anything but full-bodied, tints of -metals. The materials, therefore, for a system of colour -did not offer themselves to Homer’s vision as they do to -ours. Particular colours were indeed exhibited in rare -beauty, as the blue of the sea and of the sky. Yet these -colours were, so to speak, isolated fragments; and, not -entering into a general scheme, they were apparently -not conceived with the precision necessary to master -them. It seems easy to comprehend that the eye -may require a familiarity with an ordered system of -colours, as the condition of its being able closely to appreciate -any one among them.</p> - -<p>I conclude, then, that the organ of colour and its impressions -were but partially developed among the Greeks -of the heroic age.</p> - -<p>In lieu of this, Homer seems to have had, firstly some -crude conceptions of colour derived from the elements; -secondly and principally, a system in lieu of colour, -founded upon light and upon darkness, its opposite or -negative. We have seen that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> of Homer, -which is applied to fine olive tints in the skin, and -which joins hands with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>, means -dark, the absence of light. On the other hand, the -basis of whiteness is clearly indicated to us in the etymology -of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span>, which is the same as that of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λεύσσω</span> -to see, and of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λύκη</span> light in <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λυκαβὰς</span> the year, the walk -or course of light; as well as in the cognate words,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[489]</a></span> -which appear to have their root in the Sanscrit <i>loch</i>, -from whence <i>lochan</i>, an eye<a name="FNanchor_854_854" id="FNanchor_854_854"></a><a href="#Footnote_854_854" class="fnanchor">[854]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>His system one of light and dark.</i></div> - -<p>As a general proposition, then, I should say that the -Homeric colours are really the modes and forms of -light<a name="FNanchor_855_855" id="FNanchor_855_855"></a><a href="#Footnote_855_855" class="fnanchor">[855]</a>, and of its opposite or rather negative, darkness: -partially affected perhaps by ideas drawn from the -metals, like the ruddiness of copper, or the sombre and -dead blue of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>, whatever the substance may have -been; and here and there with an inceptive effort, as it -were, to get hold of other ideas of colour.</p> - -<p>Under the application of this principle, I believe that -all, or nearly all, the Homeric words will fall into their -places: and that we shall find that the Poet used them, -from his own standing-ground, with great vigour and -effect. We can now see why <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> with -their kindred words have such an immense predominance: -though white and black are the limiting ratios -of colour, rather than colour itself.</p> - -<p>Of the transparent and opaque, or <i>chiaroscuro</i>, we -cannot expect to hear from Homer: yet, as has been -observed, a rudiment of it may be contained in the -highly poetical <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠεροειδὲς</span> of the cave or sea; and again -in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δνοφερὴ νὺξ</span> (Od. xiii. 269), since <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νέφος</span> is the basis -of the epithet.</p> - -<p>When we speak of colour proper, we speak of -an effect which is produced by the decomposition of -light, and which, so long as the eye can discharge its -function, is complete, whatever the quantity, or the incidence, -of light upon the object said to have colour -may happen to be.</p> - -<p>When we speak of light, shade, and darkness, we -refer to the quantity of light, not decomposed, which -falls upon that object, and to the mode of its incidence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[490]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of light, shadow, and darkness thus regarded, Homer -had lively and most poetical conceptions. This -description of objects by light and its absence tax his -materials to the uttermost. His iron-grey, his ruddy, -his starry heaven, are so many modes of light. His wine-coloured -oxen and sea, his violet sheep, his things -tawny, purple, sooty, and the rest, give us in fact a -rich vocabulary of words for describing what is dark -so far as it has colour, but what also varies between -dull and bright, according to the quantity of light playing -upon it. Here (for example) is the link between his -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθοψ κάπνος</span> and his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἴθοψ οἶνος</span>.</p> - -<p>As these words all follow in the train, so to speak, of -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span>, even so <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸς</span> is attended by its own family, all -falling under the meaning of the English adjective -<i>light</i>. On the one hand <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πόλιος</span>; on the -other <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαρμάρεος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργὸς</span>, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σιγαλόεις</span>, all mean <i>light</i>; -but the first two are dull, and represent the twilight of -colour, or debateable ground between it and its negative, -while the last three are bright and glistering.</p> - -<p>Nothing can be more poetical than Homer’s ideas of -dark and light. It was a redundancy of life in these -ideas, that made him associate light with motion; as in -those fine lines (Il. ii. 437),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ὣς τῶν ἐρχομένων ἀπὸ χαλκοῦ θεσπεσίοιο</div> - <div class="verse">αἴγλη παμφανόωσα δι’ αἰθέρος οὐρανὸν ἷκεν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And, again, in the Arming of Achilles (Il. xix. 362),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αἴγλη δ’ οὐρανὸν ἷκε, γέλασσε δὲ πᾶσα περὶ χθών.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So, on the other hand, the idea of darkness went to -animate metaphysical conceptions, as in black fate, -black death, black clouds of death, black pains (Il. ii. -859, 834. xvi. 350. iv. 117).</p> - -<p>Naturalists tell us, that there exist kinds of creatures -respecting which it is known, that their organs are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[491]</a></span> -sensitive to light and darkness, but with no perception -whatever either of colour or of form<a name="FNanchor_856_856" id="FNanchor_856_856"></a><a href="#Footnote_856_856" class="fnanchor">[856]</a>. So far as -respects form, Homer perceived keenly such forms as -were beautiful: but of mere geometrical form he may -have had very indistinct ideas, if we are to judge from -his epithets for the form of a shield. The parallel is -nearer in the case of colour; for even his perceptions -were as yet undigested; as if they were novel, not -aided by tradition, acquired very much by himself, and -fixed as yet neither by custom nor nomenclature.</p> - -<p>From the remains which have reached us of the -colours of the ancients, it has been found practicable -to treat of them in precise detail<a name="FNanchor_857_857" id="FNanchor_857_857"></a><a href="#Footnote_857_857" class="fnanchor">[857]</a>. But, in examining -the question from the works of Homer, we must bear -in mind, first, their very early date, and, secondly, the -likelihood that heroic Greece may probably have been -far behind some countries of the east in the use and in -the idea of colour, which has always had a privileged -home there.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Colour in the later Greek language.</i></div> - -<p>The tendency, however, to a mixture of the two -questions of light and colour appears to be traceable -more or less in the popular language, and likewise in -the philosophy, of the later Greeks.</p> - -<p>In the classical period, the hues of the eye were -divided, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> the darkest, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χάροπος</span> the intermediate, -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλαυκὸς</span> the lightest.</p> - -<p>The word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πράσινος</span>, leek-green, appears to be quite -adequate to the expression of the colour. It is used -by Aristotle; but I do not know that it is found in the -poets or writers of the best age. For the classical -Greek the idea of greenness is expressed by <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span>, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[492]</a></span> -far as it is expressed at all. Now this word seems -inadequate on two grounds. First, its predominant -idea is that of ‘fresh’ or ‘recent;’ which is but accidentally, -and not invariably, the property of those -objects in nature that are green.</p> - -<p>When we find the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> applied alike to -objects of a green colour, and to others that have no -colour, (or else not in respect of their colour,) but yet -which are fresh or newly sprung, we are led to conclude -that it was for freshness, and not for greenness, that the -word was generally used. This idea is confirmed by two -circumstances. First, that when <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> does signify -colour, as in the case of paleness, (where it cannot -mean what is fresh,) it signifies the most indefinite and -feeble colour, little more indeed than a negative.</p> - -<p>The meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸν δεός</span> is probably ashy-pale -fear. In the green of the olive we see the point of -connection between this use of the term on the one -hand, and natural verdure on the other. So that the -image of the colour green, to the Greeks, was neither -lively and bright on the one hand, nor was it strong -and deep on the other.</p> - -<p>The second circumstance is this: that the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χλωρὸς</span> is applied by the later Greeks to objects that -have a colour, but a colour which is <i>not</i> green: and -this by authors who had the full use of sight. Thus, -in Euripides, (Hecuba 124,) we have <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἵματι χλωρῷ</span> for -blood freshly shed. It seems plain that, when the epithet -could be thus used, colour could only be very carelessly -and faintly conceived in the minds either of those who -used the expression, or of those to whom it was addressed.</p> - -<p>I shall not open the general subject of the treatment -of colour by the later Greeks, or by the Latin poets.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[493]</a></span> -But that it continued to be both faint and indefinite -down to a very late period, and in a degree which -would now be deemed very surprising, we may judge -both from the general tenour of the Æneid, and from -the remarkable verse of Albinovanus, an Augustan poet, -which applied the epithet ‘purpureus’ to snow;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Brachia purpureâ candidiora nive.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Neither do I enter into the question, whether the -shadows of white may afford any ground for this -epithet: because an answer, drawn from the secrets as -it were of science or art, could not avail for the interpretation -of the works of a poet, who must describe for -the common eye.</p> - -<p>So we may note the ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">cervix rosea</span>’ of Horace<a name="FNanchor_858_858" id="FNanchor_858_858"></a><a href="#Footnote_858_858" class="fnanchor">[858]</a>, and -of Virgil<a name="FNanchor_859_859" id="FNanchor_859_859"></a><a href="#Footnote_859_859" class="fnanchor">[859]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Greek philosophy of colour.</i></div> - -<p>Such examination as I have been able to make -would lead me to suppose whatever of this kind was -crude or defective in the common ideas of Greece was -not without points of correspondence in its philosophy.</p> - -<p>The treatise <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Περὶ χρωμάτων</span>, popularly ascribed to -Aristotle, would appear to belong to some other author. -It, however, in conformity with Greek ideas<a name="FNanchor_860_860" id="FNanchor_860_860"></a><a href="#Footnote_860_860" class="fnanchor">[860]</a>, bases the -system of colour not, as we do, upon the prismatic -decomposition of light, but upon the four elements; of -which it declares air, water, and even earth when dry, -to be white, fire to be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸς</span> or yellow; from the -mixtures of these arise all other colours, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σκότος</span>, or -black, is the absence of light.</p> - -<p>Dr. Prantl, a recent editor of this Treatise, has, in -a learned Essay of his own, gathered together the systems -of the various Greek writers upon colour; and -especially that of Aristotle, from the testimony afforded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[494]</a></span> -by his <i>Meteorologica</i> and other works. It exhibits a -curious combination of the aim at scientific exactness, -with the want of the physical knowledge which is, in -such matters, its necessary basis. Its leading ideas -appear to be as follows.</p> - -<p>If we pass by the mere metaphysical portion of the -subject, the basis of colour is laid theoretically in transparency -and motion. With the idea of whiteness are -associated dryness and heat; and with blackness their -counterparts, wet and cold<a name="FNanchor_861_861" id="FNanchor_861_861"></a><a href="#Footnote_861_861" class="fnanchor">[861]</a>. The air is white, fire the -highest form of white; water is black<a name="FNanchor_862_862" id="FNanchor_862_862"></a><a href="#Footnote_862_862" class="fnanchor">[862]</a>, earth the highest -negation of colour, and blackest of all. All other -colours are treated as intermediate between white and -black<a name="FNanchor_863_863" id="FNanchor_863_863"></a><a href="#Footnote_863_863" class="fnanchor">[863]</a>. An analogy prevails between the intervals of -the principal colours, and those of sound, taste (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χυμὸς</span>), -and other sensible objects. There are seven colours<a name="FNanchor_864_864" id="FNanchor_864_864"></a><a href="#Footnote_864_864" class="fnanchor">[864]</a>: -namely,</p> - -<p> -1. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλαν</span> black.<br /> -2. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸν</span> gold.<br /> -3. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκὸν</span> white.<br /> -4. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινικοῦν</span> red.<br /> -5. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁλουργὸν</span> violet.<br /> -6. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πράσινον</span> green.<br /> -7. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανοῦν</span> blue.<br /> -</p> - -<p>The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φαιὸν</span> or grey is a mode of black (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλαν τι</span>); and -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθὸν</span> is ingeniously described as having the same -relation to light, which richness (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λιπαρὸν</span>) has to sweetness -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">γλυκύ</span>). Red, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φοινικοῦν</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφυροῦν</span>, is light seen -through black. This is the most positive colour after -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ξανθόν</span>; then comes green, and then (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁλουργὸν</span>) violet<a name="FNanchor_865_865" id="FNanchor_865_865"></a><a href="#Footnote_865_865" class="fnanchor">[865]</a>. -He proceeds, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔτι δὲ τὸ πλεῖον οὔκετι φαίνεται</span>; meaning, -I suppose, that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανοῦν</span> (the same thing is said by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[495]</a></span> -Prantl of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄρφνιον</span>, which he translates brown) is so -closely akin to the negative, or blackness, as to be indistinguishable -from it. Thus Aristotle appears to -treat grey as outside his scale altogether; he gives -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφυροῦν</span> sometimes to red and sometimes to blue<a name="FNanchor_866_866" id="FNanchor_866_866"></a><a href="#Footnote_866_866" class="fnanchor">[866]</a>; -and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄρφνιον</span> or brown is wholly omitted. His order -likewise varies: for, in different passages, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁλουργὸν</span> and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πράσινον</span> change places.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Nature of our advantage over Homer.</i></div> - -<p>This condition of the philosophy of colour, so many -centuries after Homer, and in the mind of such a man -as Aristotle, may assist in explaining to us the undeveloped -state of Homer’s perceptions in this particular -department.</p> - -<p>There appears to be a remarkable contrast between -such undigested ideas, and the solidity, truth, and firmness -of the remains of colour that have come down to -us from the ancients. The explanation, I suppose, is, -that those, who had to make practical use of colour, did -not wait for the construction of a philosophy, but added -to their apparatus from time to time all substances -which, having come within their knowledge, were -found to produce results satisfactory and improving to -the eye. And even so Homer, though his organ was -little trained in the discrimination of colours, and -though he founded himself mainly upon mere modifications -of light apart from its decomposition, yet has -made very bold and effective use of these limited materials. -His figures in no case jar, while they never -fail to strike. Nor are we to suppose that we see in -this department an exception to that comparative profusion -of power which marked his endowments in general, -and that he bore, in the particular point, a -crippled nature; but rather we are to learn that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[496]</a></span> -perceptions so easy and familiar to us are the results of -a slow traditionary growth in knowledge and in the -training of the human organ, which commenced long -before we took our place in the succession of mankind. -We exemplify, even in this apparently simple matter, -the old proverbial saying: ‘The dwarf sees further than -the giant, for he is lifted on the giant’s shoulders.’</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<h4><i>Note on the meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκός</span>.</i></h4> - -<p>The first impression from the Homeric text is likely to be that -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> is a metal. For the substantive is mentioned but thrice in -Homer; and always in immediate connection with metals.</p> - -<p>1. Il. xi. 24. Upon the buckler of Agamemnon there are, with -twelve <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶμοι</span>, folds, rims, or plies, of gold, and twenty of tin, ten of -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλανος κυάνοιο</span>).</p> - -<p>2. Il. xi. 34. On the shield of the king, there were twenty white -bosses of tin, and, in the middle, one of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλανος κυάνοιο</span>).</p> - -<p>3. Od. vii. 86. The walls of the palace of Alcinous were coated -with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span> within, and round about them there was a cornice or -fringe (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θριγκὸς</span>) of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>.</p> - -<p>There is no doubt that, in later Greek at least, the word acquired -other significations: such as <i>lapis lazuli</i>, the blue cornflower, the -rockbird (also as being blue), and, lastly, a blue dye or lacquer<a name="FNanchor_867_867" id="FNanchor_867_867"></a><a href="#Footnote_867_867" class="fnanchor">[867]</a>. -But, moreover, it seems impossible to identify the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> of Homer -with any metal in particular.</p> - -<p>Some have asserted the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> of Homer to be steel<a name="FNanchor_868_868" id="FNanchor_868_868"></a><a href="#Footnote_868_868" class="fnanchor">[868]</a>. But to -this there seem to be conclusive objections. It appears very doubtful, -whether the Greeks were acquainted with the process of making -steel in masses by the immersion of iron in water. The English -translation of Beckmann’s History of Inventions ascribes the knowledge -of the process to Homer; but apparently in error<a name="FNanchor_869_869" id="FNanchor_869_869"></a><a href="#Footnote_869_869" class="fnanchor">[869]</a>. There is -no allusion whatever to it: for it is not at all implied by the elementary -process of the manufacture of a tool in Od ix. 391-3. It -was only by fire that iron could be made malleable at all: and no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[497]</a></span> -doubt it was known that by its immersion in water hardness was -restored or increased (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὸ γὰρ αὖτε σιδήρου γε κράτος ἐστίν</span>). But we -have no trace either of the repetition of the process on the same -piece of metal, or of its application to unmanufactured iron, or of a -new denomination for iron when thus heated and cooled. On the -contrary, in this passage the metal when fully hardened is still declared -to be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σίδηρος</span>: and we have nowhere in Homer any trace of a -relation between <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">σίδηρος</span>, except the merely negative one, -that neither of them is cast into the furnace for making the Shield -of Achilles.</p> - -<p>Again, the hardness of iron was such as apparently met all their -wishes, and almost of itself constituted a difficulty. Hence it is used -along with stones as a symbol of hardness; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐπεὶ οὔ σφι λίθος χρὼς ἠὲ -σίδηρος</span><a name="FNanchor_870_870" id="FNanchor_870_870"></a><a href="#Footnote_870_870" class="fnanchor">[870]</a>. Again, we do not find it worked up with other metals; for -example, on the buckler or shield of Agamemnon. As we have -seen, it is not used by Vulcan in making the shield of Achilles. -The god casts into the fire gold and silver, copper and tin; lead -being apparently excluded as too soft, and iron as too hard for -working in masses with the other metals. But the idea of hardness -is never associated with <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>; and, if it had been hard like steel, -certainly it would not have been a suitable material for the intricate -forms of dragons.</p> - -<p>Again, the adjective <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> means in colour what is blue and what -is deep; and by no means corresponds with the ordinary colour of -steel. All this, besides the strength of the negative evidence, seems -inconsistent with the idea that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> can have been steel.</p> - -<p>The Compiler of the Index to Eustathius makes <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> (<i>in voc.</i>) -simply a dark metal. But Millin argues that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> without an -epithet is tin, and that with the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέλας</span> it is lead. He observes -that Pliny<a name="FNanchor_871_871" id="FNanchor_871_871"></a><a href="#Footnote_871_871" class="fnanchor">[871]</a> appears to call tin by the name of <i>plumbum</i> -simply, and lead by the name of <i>plumbum nigrum</i>: so that the -double use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κασσίτερος</span> for tin would be like that of -<i>plumbum</i> and <i>stannum</i> for the same metal in Latin. This idea -treats the substance as taking its name from the colour: and is so -far sustained by the use of the German <i>blei</i>, which I presume is the -same word as <i>blau</i>, for lead. But it would be singular that Homer -should thus have double names for two metals, which of all classes -of objects have perhaps been most commonly designated by single -ones. And this hypothesis is not in accordance with the evident<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[498]</a></span> -meaning of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span> in Homer; since the word indicates a dark and -deep hue very far from that of tin, which Homer describes as white. -The after use of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> is equally adverse to the interpretation -suggested.</p> - -<p>The most probable interpretation for this difficult word appears to -be that which is also in accordance with its subsequent use and description -as a colour. From Linton’s ‘Ancient and Modern Colours,’ -(p. 21,) it appears that there was a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος αὐτοφυὴς</span>, which was a -<i>native</i> blue carbonate of copper: and that, according to the express -testimony of Dioscorides, this was obtained by the ancients from the -copper-mines: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος δὲ γεννᾶται μὲν ἐν Κύπρῳ ἐκ τῶν χαλκουργῶν μετάλλων</span>, -v. 106. This interpretation would account for our finding -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> in Homer: for the rarity of its use: for the dark colour and -the affinity to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πορφύρεος</span>. Such a substance would make a good -relief for the cornice in the palace of Alcinous, against the copper-plated -walls: and would stand well in the rest of the passages where it -appears to be placed in relief with other metals, Il. xviii. 564, xi. 39, -and even on the buckler of Agamemnon, xi. 24. For on this -buckler, though the serpents, called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεοι</span>, are evidently placed in -contrast with the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶμοι</span>, and though among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶμοι</span> there are ten of -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span>, yet, as they are combined with twelve of gold and twenty of -tin, the general effect would be one such as we need not suppose -Homer to have rejected. This blue carbonate is still found among -other copper-ores, but less in our deep mines, than in the shallow -ones worked by the ancients. I understand from a gentleman -versed in metallurgy, that in its purest form it is crystalline, rarely -massive or earthy, of a deep azure, brittle, easily powdered, and thus -readily converted to use as a pigment.</p> - -<p>I should therefore suppose that the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> is not a metal: that -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶμοι</span> on the buckler mean lines or bands coloured in pigment: and -that the boss on the shield is probably a nodule of the substance in its -native state. We can thus understand why <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> is not used either -with the gold, silver, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span>, and tin, in the forge of Vulcan, or with -the gold, silver, iron, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span> of the chariot of Juno<a name="FNanchor_872_872" id="FNanchor_872_872"></a><a href="#Footnote_872_872" class="fnanchor">[872]</a>. We can -also understand why, though <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύανος</span> is not used in the forge, yet the -trench round the vineyard on the shield of Achilles is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυανεή</span><a name="FNanchor_873_873" id="FNanchor_873_873"></a><a href="#Footnote_873_873" class="fnanchor">[873]</a>. This -interpretation is also in conformity with the Homeric employment -of the adjective <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κυάνεος</span>.</p> - -<p>I understand that there is, in the <i>Museo Borbonico</i> at Naples,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[499]</a></span> -a spoon or ladle, with a boss on the end of the handle, which is -formed of this native blue carbonate of copper bored through for -the purpose.</p> - -<p>Of the four significations given to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span> in Homer (copper, -brass, bronze, and iron<a name="FNanchor_874_874" id="FNanchor_874_874"></a><a href="#Footnote_874_874" class="fnanchor">[874]</a>), I adhere to the first. It cannot be iron, -(1) because it is never mentioned as hard in the same way with it, -(2) because it is so much more common, (3) because these metals -are expressly distinguished one from the other, as in Il. v. 723.</p> - -<p>Neither can the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span> of Homer be bronze. Not, however, from -absolute want of hardness: for I learn from competent authority -that very good cutting instruments (not, of course, equal to steel) -may be made in a bronze composed of 87½ parts copper, and 12½ -parts tin. But for the following reasons:</p> - -<p>1. Homer always speaks of it as a pure metal along with other -pure metals, even where Vulcan casts it into the furnace to be -wrought; Il. xviii. 474.</p> - -<p>2. Again, because, although we must not argue too confidently -from Homer’s epithets of colour, yet in this case we may lay considerable -stress not only on his <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς ἐρυθρὸς</span> (since the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐρυθρὸς</span> of -Homer leans to brightness), but upon the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤνοψ</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νώροψ</span>, which -mean bright and gleaming. These epithets of light would not apply -to bronze: nor would Homer plate with bronze the walls of the -palace of Alcinous. Neither does it appear likely that he would -give us a heaven of bronze among the imposing imagery of battle, -Il. xvii. 424.</p> - -<p>3. It does not appear that Homer knew anything at all of the -fusion or alloying of metals.</p> - -<p>We have, then, to conclude that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">χαλκὸς</span> was copper, hardened by some -method; as some think by the agency of water: or else, and more -probably, according to a very simple process, by cooling slowly in -the air. (See Millin, <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Minéralogie Homérique</span>, pp. 126-32.) -</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[500]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>SECT. V.<a name="FNanchor_875_875" id="FNanchor_875_875"></a><a href="#Footnote_875_875" class="fnanchor">[875]</a><br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>Homer and some of his Successors in Epic Poetry: -in particular, Virgil and Tasso.</i></span></h3> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Milton and Dante in relation to Homer.</i></div> - -<p>The great Epic poets of the world are members of a -brotherhood still extremely limited, and, as far as appears, -not likely to be enlarged. It may indeed well be disputed, -with respect to some of the existing claimants, whether they -are or are not entitled to stand upon the Golden Book. There -will also be differences of opinion as to the precedence among -those, whose right to appear there is universally confessed. -Pretensions are sometimes advanced under the influence of -temporary or national partialities, which the silent action of the -civilized mind of the world after a time effectually puts down. -Among these there could be none more obviously untenable, -than that set up on behalf of Milton in the celebrated Epigram -of Dryden, which seemed to place him at the head of the poets -of the world, and made him combine all the great qualities of -Homer and of Virgil. Somewhat similar ideas were broached -by Cowper in his Table Talk. The lines, as they are less -familiarly remembered, may be quoted here:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ages elapsed ere Homer’s lamp appeared,</div> - <div class="verse">And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard;</div> - <div class="verse">To carry Nature lengths unknown before,</div> - <div class="verse">To give a Milton birth, asked ages more.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But this great master is also subject to undue depreciation, as -well as flattered by extravagant worship. I myself have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[501]</a></span> -assured in a company composed of Professors of a German -University, who were ardent admirers of Shakespeare, that -within the sphere of their knowledge Milton was only regarded -as of equal rank with Klopstock. It is not, I trust, either -national vanity or religious prejudice, nor is it the mere wonder -inspired by the wide range of his attainments and performances, -which makes England claim that he should be numbered in the -first class of epic poets; in that class of which Homer is the -head, distinguished before all competitors by a clear and even -a vast superiority.</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to institute any satisfactory comparison -between Milton and Homer; so different, so wanting in points -of contact, are the characters partly of the men, and even -much more of their works. Perhaps the greatest and the -most pervading merit of the Iliad is, its fidelity and vividness -as a mirror of man and of the visible sphere in which he lived, -with its infinitely varied imagery both actual and ideal. But -that which most excites our admiration in Milton is the elasticity -and force of genius, by which he has travelled beyond the -human sphere, and bodied forth to us new worlds in the unknown, -peopled with inhabitants who must be so immeasurably -different from our own race. Homer’s task was one, which admitted -of and received what we may call a perfect accomplishment; -Milton’s was an undertaking beyond the strength of man, -incapable of anything more than faint adumbration, and one of -which, the more elevated the spectator’s point of view, the -more keenly he must find certain defects glare upon him. -The poems of Milton give us reason to think that his conceptions -of character were masculine and powerful; but the subject -did not admit of their being effectually tested. For his -nearest approaches to perfection in his art, we must look beyond -his epics.</p> - -<p>A comparison between Milton and Dante would be somewhat -more practicable, but it would not accord with the composition -of the group, which I shall here attempt to present, and which -has Homer for its centre. On the other hand, Dante might, -far better than Milton, be compared with Homer; for while he -is in the Purgatorio and Paradiso far more heavenly than Milton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[502]</a></span> -he is also throughout the <i>Divina Commedia</i> truly and profoundly -human. He is incessantly conversant with the nature -and the life of man; and though for the most part he draws -us, as Flaxman has drawn him, in outline only, yet by the -strength and depth of his touch he has produced figures, for -example, Francesca and Ugolino, that have as largely become the -common property of mankind, if not as Achilles and Ulysses, yet -as Lear and Hamlet. Still the theological basis, and the extra-terrene -theatre, of Dante’s poem remove him to a great distance -from Homer, from whom he seems to have derived little, and -with whom we may therefore feel assured he could have been -but little acquainted.</p> - -<p>The poets, whom it is most natural to compare with Homer, -are those who have supplied us in the greatest abundance with -points of contact between their own orbits and his, and who at -the same time are such manifest children of genius as to -entitle them to the honour of being worsted in such a conflict. -These conditions I presume to be most clearly fulfilled by -Virgil and Tasso; and we may begin with the elder of the -pair.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Chapman has gone too far when he says ‘Virgil -hath nothing of his own, but only elocution; his invention, -matter, and form, being all Homer’s<a name="FNanchor_876_876" id="FNanchor_876_876"></a><a href="#Footnote_876_876" class="fnanchor">[876]</a>.’ Yet no small part of -this sweeping proposition can undoubtedly be made good.</p> - -<p>With an extraordinary amount of admitted imitation and of -obvious similarity on the surface, the Æneid stands, as to almost -every fundamental particular, in the strongest contrast -with the Iliad. As to metre, figures, names, places, persons -and times, the two works, where they do not actually concur, -stand in as near relations one to another, as seem to be attainable -without absolute identity of subject; yet it may be doubted -whether any two great poems can be named, which are so profoundly -discordant upon almost every point that touches their -interior spirit; upon everything that relates to the truth of our -nature, to the laws of thought and action, and to veracity in the -management of the higher subjects, such as history, morality, -polity, and religion.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[503]</a></span></p> -<div class="sidenote"><i>Contrast between form and spirit in the Æneid.</i></div> - -<p>The immense powers of Virgil as a poet had been demonstrated -before he wrote the Æneid. He had shown their full -splendour in the Georgics; though the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἦθος</span>, or (so to speak) -the heart, even of that great work was touched with paralysis -by his Epicurean and self-centring philosophy. The Æneid -does not bear a fainter impression of his genius. The wonderfully -sustained beauty and majesty of its verse, the imposing -splendour of its most elaborate delineations, the power of the -author in unfolding, when he strives to do it, the resources of -passion, and even perhaps the skill which he has shown in the -general construction of his plot, cannot be too highly praised. -But while its general nature as an epic (for the epic poem is -preeminently ethical) brought its defects into fuller view, the -particular object he proposed to himself was fatal to the attainment -of the very highest excellence. While Homer sang for -national glory, the poem of Virgil is toned throughout to a -spirit of courtierlike adulation. No muse, however vigorous, -can maintain an upright gait under so base a burden.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Catalogue in the Iliad and in the Æneid.</i></div> - -<p>And yet, in regard to its external form, the Æneid is perhaps, -as a whole, the most majestic poem that the European -mind has in any age produced. We often hear of the lofty -march of the Iliad; but though its versification is always appropriate -and therefore never mean, it only rises into stateliness, -or into a high-pitched sublimity, when Homer has occasion to -brace his energies for an effort. He is invariably true to his -own conception of the bard<a name="FNanchor_877_877" id="FNanchor_877_877"></a><a href="#Footnote_877_877" class="fnanchor">[877]</a>, as one who should win and delight -the soul of the hearer; and so, when he has strung himself, -like a bow, for some great passage of his action, ‘has -brought the string to the breast, the iron to the wood,’ and has hit -his mark, straightway he unbends himself again. Thus he ushers -in with true grandeur the marshalling of the Greek army in the -Second Book, partly by the invocation of the Muses, and partly -by an assemblage of no less than six consecutive similes, which -describe respectively the flash of the Greek arms, the resounding -tramp, the swarming numbers, the settling down of the -ranks as they form the line, the busy marshalling by the -commanders, the majesty of Agamemnon preeminent among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[504]</a></span> -them<a name="FNanchor_878_878" id="FNanchor_878_878"></a><a href="#Footnote_878_878" class="fnanchor">[878]</a>. Having done this, he sets himself about the Catalogue, -with no contempt indeed of poetical embellishment by epithets, -and with an occasional relief by short legends, but still in the -main as a matter of business, historical, geographical, and topographical. -And thus he proceeds, with perfect tranquillity, -for near three hundred lines, until his work is done. We then find -that he has given us, together with a most minute account of the -forces, a living map of the territories occupied by the Greek -races of the age. But Virgil, in his imitation of the Homeric -Catalogue (upon which there will be further occasion to comment -hereafter, with reference to other matters), has pursued a -course quite different. Waiving Homer’s gorgeous introduction, -which pours from a single point a broad stream of splendour -over the whole, Virgil with vast, and indeed rather painful, -effort, carries us through his long-drawn list at a laboriously-sustained -elevation. To vary the wearisome task, he uses -every diversity of turn that language and grammar can supply<a name="FNanchor_879_879" id="FNanchor_879_879"></a><a href="#Footnote_879_879" class="fnanchor">[879]</a>. -He passes from nominative to vocative, and from vocative -to nominative. Somebody was present, and then somebody -was not absent. Arms and accoutrements are got up as minutely, -as if he had been a careful master of costumes dressing -a new drama for the stage. That we may never be let down -for a moment, he distributes here and there the similes, which -Homer accumulated at the opening, and introduces, between the -accounts of military contingents, legends of twenty or more lines. -Upon the whole, the level of his verse through the Catalogue, -instead of being, like Homer’s, decidedly lower, is even higher -than is usual with him. There is not in it, I think, a single -verse approaching to the <i>sermo pedestris</i>. His reader misses -that tranquillizing relief so agreeable in Homer, which varies -as it were the play of the muscles, and freshens the faculties -for a return to higher efforts. Virgil seems to treat us, as horses -at a certain stage of their decline are treated by experienced -drivers, who keep them going from fear that, if they once let them -stop or slacken, they will be unable to get up their pace again. -He never unbends his bow. But a table-land may be as flat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[505]</a></span> -and even wearisome, as a plain; and the ornaments in the -Æneid frequently are not, and indeed could hardly be, more -ornamental than the passages which they purport to embellish.</p> - -<p>The difference of the two Catalogues cannot be more clearly -exhibited than by comparing Homer’s description of the very -first contingent, that from Bœotia<a name="FNanchor_880_880" id="FNanchor_880_880"></a><a href="#Footnote_880_880" class="fnanchor">[880]</a>, with Virgil’s opening paragraph -about Mezentius; or Homer’s last and nearly simplest, -on the Magnesians<a name="FNanchor_881_881" id="FNanchor_881_881"></a><a href="#Footnote_881_881" class="fnanchor">[881]</a>, with the description of Camilla, (certainly -a description of remarkable beauty,) with which is closed the -glittering procession of the Italian army in the Æneid.</p> - -<p>The sustained stateliness of diction, metre, and rhythm in -the Æneid is a feat, and an astounding feat; but it is more -like the performance of a trained athlete, between trick and -strength, than the grandeur of free and simple Nature, such -as it is seen in the ancient warrior, in Diomed or Achilles; or -in Homer, the ancient warrior’s only bard. Different persons -will, according to their temperaments, be apt to treat this augustness -of diction as a merit or a fault: all, however, must -acknowledge it to be a wonder. In this respect Virgil has -been followed with no ordinary power, but yet not equalled, -by Tasso. And the impression, created in this respect by the -Æneid as it stands, must be heightened when we remember -that it is still an unfinished poem, and that the author had at -his decease by no means brought it, and the later books of it -in particular, up to what he considered the proper standard.</p> - -<p>The immense and untold amount of imitation in Virgil has -perhaps tended to make us less than duly sensible of his vast -original powers; and the mean and feeble effects produced by -the character, if we can call it a character, of his Æneas, cheat -us into an untrue supposition that he could not have possessed -a real power of this the highest kind of delineation.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Character of Æneas.</i></div> - -<p>It is perhaps hardly possible to exhaust the topics of censure -which may be justly used against the Æneas of Virgil. His -moral deficiencies are not (so to speak) hidden amidst the accomplishments -of a manly intellect, nor his intellectual mediocrity -redeemed by any fresh and genuine virtues. He is not,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[506]</a></span> -to our knowledge, a statesman; nay more, he is not a warrior; -for we feel that his battles and feats of war are the poet’s, and -not his: and when he appears in arms we are tempted to ask, -‘Son of Venus, what business have you here?’ The violent -exaggerations, by which Virgil attempts to vamp up his hero’s -martial character, only produce the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ψυχρὸν</span> of Longinus; a cold -reaction, approaching to a shudder, through the reader’s mind. -As, for instance, when in the Shades below, the poet represents -the Greek chieftains<a name="FNanchor_882_882" id="FNanchor_882_882"></a><a href="#Footnote_882_882" class="fnanchor">[882]</a> as trembling and flying at the sight of -him, the nobleness of the verses cannot excuse either the tasteless -solecism of the thought, or the profanation offered to the -memory of Homer in the person of his heroes, who indeed often -made Æneas tremble, but never trembled at him themselves. -But Virgil goes further yet, when he makes Diomed assert<a name="FNanchor_883_883" id="FNanchor_883_883"></a><a href="#Footnote_883_883" class="fnanchor">[883]</a> that, -having been engaged in single combat with Æneas, he knows -by experience how terrible a warrior he will prove; and that, -had there been two more such men, Troy would have conquered -Greece, and not Greece Troy. Now, Æneas never in -the Iliad even once executes a real feat of war; and as to the -single combat between the two chiefs, Diomed first knocked -him down with a stone<a name="FNanchor_884_884" id="FNanchor_884_884"></a><a href="#Footnote_884_884" class="fnanchor">[884]</a>, and then, after he had been carried -off and apparently set to rights by his mother, he was thrice -saved from the deadly charge of the same warrior by the single -intervention of Apollo, who by divine force arrested the attack. -In passing, it may be observed that, since Virgil could, with -impunity, as it appears, so far as his popularity was concerned, -thus mutilate and falsify the author from whose wealth he so -largely borrowed, either the knowledge of Greek literature in -its head and father, Homer, must have been very low among -even the educated Romans, or else their standard of taste must -have been seriously debased before they could accept such compliments.</p> - -<p>It is common to find fault with Æneas for his vile conduct -to Dido, and for the wretched excuse he offers in his own behalf, -when he encounters her offended spirit in the regions of -Aidoneus and Persephone. But the truth is, that this fairly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[507]</a></span> -exhibits and illustrates not only the total unreality of this particular -character, but, as will be further noticed presently, the -feeble and deteriorated conception of human nature at large, -which Virgil seems to have formed. Man has been treated by -him as, on the whole, but a shallow being: he had not sounded -the depths of the heart, nor measured either the strength of -good or the strength of evil that may abide in it. The -Virgilian Æneas is a made up thing, far fitter to stand among -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νεκύων ἀμένηνα κάρηνα</span>, than among men of true flesh and -blood.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;</div> - <div class="verse">Thou hast no speculation in those eyes</div> - <div class="verse">Which thou dost glare with<a name="FNanchor_885_885" id="FNanchor_885_885"></a><a href="#Footnote_885_885" class="fnanchor">[885]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Nor can we draw an apology for the defects of this primary -character in Virgil from the Æneas of Homer. The Dardanian -Prince is indeed in the Iliad, as to everything essential, a taciturn -and background figure. He is placed very high in station -and authority, and, as we have seen<a name="FNanchor_886_886" id="FNanchor_886_886"></a><a href="#Footnote_886_886" class="fnanchor">[886]</a>, he may probably have -been, by the dignity of lineal descent, the head of the whole -Trojan race. But Homer pays him off with generalities; for, -as no Poet is greater in the really creative work of character, -so none better understands how, where the purpose of his -poem requires it, to take a lay figure, and stuff him out with -straw. In what may be called the vital action of the Iliad, -Æneas has no considerable share, either martial or political. -He is very far indeed behind the noble Sarpedon in the first -capacity, and Polydamas in the second, as well as Hector in -both. Still, if there is in the Homeric Æneas nothing grand, -nothing vigorous, nothing profound, there is on the other hand -nothing over-prominent or pretentious, and therefore nothing -mean, nothing inconsistent, nothing untrue. All the Homeric -characters, down to Thersites, are drawn each in its way with a -master’s hand; Æneas forms no exception: on the contrary, we -have to admire the skill with which, in a kind of middle distance, -his outline is filled up, and he is kept entirely clear of any confusion -with either those greater characters on the Trojan side,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[508]</a></span> -who have been named, or with the effeminate Paris. This is -the more worthy of note, because, as the favourite child of -Venus, he bore a qualified and dim resemblance to her chief -minion; as we may see by certain traits of his very negative -bearing in the field, and by Apollo’s putting him (if the phrase -may be allowed) to bed in Pergamus<a name="FNanchor_887_887" id="FNanchor_887_887"></a><a href="#Footnote_887_887" class="fnanchor">[887]</a>, when he had been rescued -from Diomed, just as Venus had done with Paris, after she had -saved him in the Third Book from Menelaus<a name="FNanchor_888_888" id="FNanchor_888_888"></a><a href="#Footnote_888_888" class="fnanchor">[888]</a>.</p> - -<p>Neither did Virgil fail in the delineation of his hero, or -‘protagonist,’ from simple want of power to portray human -character. No such want can be ascribed to the poet of the -Fourth Book of the Æneid. And if it be true that, amidst all -the stormy wildness and intensity of the passion of Dido, -there is something not quite natural—something that recalls -the very remarkable imitation of it in the ‘Duchesse de la -Vallière’ of Madame de Genlis, and leaves us almost at a loss -to say which of the two has most the character of a copy, -and which of an original—what are we to say of the genuine -and manly character of Turnus? The whole of that sketch -is as good and true as we can desire; and the noble speech -in particular, in which he rebukes the trim cowardice of -Drances, is a work of such extraordinary power and merit, -that it is fit (and this I take for the summit of all eulogies) -even to have been spoken by the Achilles of Homer. In vigorous -reasoning, in biting sarcasm, in chivalrous sentiment, -and in indignant passion, it presents a combination not easily -to be matched; and it is, as a whole, admirably adapted to -the oratorical purpose, for which it is presumed to have been -delivered. But, indeed, from our first view of Turnus to -our last, we do not find in him a single trait feeble in itself, or -unworthy of the masculine idea and intention of the portrait, except -where, in the very last passage of his life, his free agency -seems to be taken, as it were by force, out of his hands.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The false position of Virgil.</i></div> - -<p>The failure in the Æneas of Virgil cannot be compared with -the case of any modern romance, such as the Waverley or Old -Mortality of Scott, where the hero may be an insipid person. -All the greater modern inventors have been compelled to lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[509]</a></span> -their foundations in the palpable breadth of some historic event: -it was the prouder distinction of the Homeric epic, that it had a -living centre; it hung upon a man; there was enough of vital -power in Homer for this end: his Achilles and his Ulysses -were each an Atlas, that sustained the world in which they -also moved. Virgil made his poem an Æneid, instead of following -the example of the Cyclic poets; he thus pledged himself -to his readers, that Æneas should be its centre, its pole, -its inward light and life. But he did not keep his word: he -had drawn the bow of Homer without Homer’s force. He -marks perhaps the final transition from the old epic of the -first class to the new. After him we have the epics of fact, -the Pharsalia, the Thebaid, and so forth. But Æneas stands -before us with the pretensions of Achilles and Ulysses; and -the failure is great in proportion to the gigantic scale of the -attempt. When, in the Italian romance, the character of the -ideal man, as shown in Orlando, again became the basis of -new epic poems, we again find in the protagonist great weakness -indeed, as compared with Achilles and Ulysses; but -strength and success as compared with the Æneas of Virgil.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole we are thrown back on the supposition that -this crying vice of the Æneid, the feebleness and untruth -of the character of Æneas, was due to the false position of -Virgil, who was obliged to discharge his functions as a poet in -subjection to his dominant obligations and liabilities as a courtly -parasite of Augustus. As the entire poem, so the character of -its hero, was, before all other things, an instrument for glorifying -the Emperor of Rome. It at once followed, that in all -respects must that character be such as to avoid suggesting a -comparison disadvantageous to the person whose dignity, for -political ends, had already been elevated even into the unseen -world; nay, whose forestalled divinity was to be kept in a -relation of absolute and broad superiority to the image of his -human ancestor. Æneas is himself addressed in the action of -the Æneid, as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Dîs genite, et geniture deos.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In order to arrive at the disastrous effects of this mental -servitude, take, first, the measure of the cold and unheroic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[510]</a></span> -character of Augustus; then estimate the degree of relative -superiority, which it was essential to Virgil’s position that -he should preserve for him throughout; and thus we may -come to some practical conception of the straitness of the space -within which Virgil had to develop his Æneas, or, in other -words, to run his match against Homer. All the faults, and -all the faultiness, of his poem may be really owing, in a degree -none can say how great, to this original falseness of position.</p> - -<p>On account of the personal principle on which the ancient -epic was constructed, failure in the character of the hero must -almost of necessity have entailed failure in the poem. Most of -all would this follow in a case where, as in the Æneid, the hero -is never out of view, and where the action does not, as in the -Iliad, travel away from his person, in order then to enhance the -splendour and effectiveness of his reappearance. Thus the falseness -of Virgil’s position was not confined to an individual character, -but extended to his entire work. Living, too, in an age -less natural and more critical than that of Homer, he provided -against criticism, so far as regarded its merely technical -functions, more, and he studied nature less. He had to construct -his epic for a court, and a corrupt court, not for mankind -at large; it followed, that he could not take his stand -upon those deep and broad foundations in human nature itself, -which gave Homer a position of universal command. Hence -as a general rule he does not sing from the heart, nor to the -heart. His touches of genuine nature are rare. Such of them -as occur have been carefully noted and applauded, for he is -always studious to set them off by choice and melodious diction. -For my own part, I find scarcely any among them so true as -the simile of the mother labouring with her maidens at night, -which he owes to Homer<a name="FNanchor_889_889" id="FNanchor_889_889"></a><a href="#Footnote_889_889" class="fnanchor">[889]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Castum ut servare cubile</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Conjugis, et possit parvos educere natos</span><a name="FNanchor_890_890" id="FNanchor_890_890"></a><a href="#Footnote_890_890" class="fnanchor">[890]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>As to religion, liberty, and nationality.</i></div> - -<p>With rare exceptions, the reader of Virgil finds himself utterly -at a loss to see at any point the soul of the poet reflected in his -work. We cannot tell, amidst the splendid phantasmagoria,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[511]</a></span> -where is his heart, where lie his sympathies. In Homer a genial -spirit, breathed from the Poet himself, is translucent through -the whole; in the Æneid we look in vain almost for a single -ray of it. Again, Virgil lived at a time when the prevailing -religion had lost whatever elements of real influence that of -Homer’s era either possessed in its own right, or inherited -from pristine tradition. It was undermined at once by philosophy -and by licentiousness; and it subsisted only as a machinery, -a machinery, too, already terribly discredited, for civil ends. -Thus he lost one great element of truth and nature, as well as -of sublimity and pathos. The extinction of liberty utterly deprived -him of another. Homer saw before him both a religion -and a polity young, fresh, and vigorous; for Virgil both were -practically dead: and whatever this world has of true greatness -is so closely dependent upon them, that it was not his -fault if his poem felt and bears cogent witness to the loss. -Even the sphere of personal morality was not open to him; -for what principle of truth or righteousness could he worthily -have glorified, without passing severe condemnation on some -capital act of the man, whom it was his chief obligation to exalt?</p> - -<p>And once more. Homer sang to his own people of the -glorious deeds of their sires, to whom they were united by -fond recollection, and by near historic and local ties. This -was at once a stimulus and a check; it cheered his labour, -and at the same time it absolutely required him to study -moral harmony and consistency. Virgil sang to Romans of -the deeds of those who were not Romans, and whom only a -most hollow fiction connected with his hearers, through the -dim vista of a thousand years, and under circumstances which -made the pretence to historical continuity little better than -ridiculous. Or rather, he sang thus, not to Romans, but to -their Emperor; he had to bear in mind, not the great fountains -of emotion in the human heart, but his town-house on -the Esquiline, and his country-house on the road from Naples -to Pozzuoli. In dealing with Greeks, with Trojans, with -Carthaginians, he again lost Homer’s double advantage: he -had nothing to give a healthy stimulus to his imagination, and -nothing to bring him or to keep him to the standard of truth -and nature. And here, perhaps, we hit upon some clue to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[512]</a></span> -superior character and attractions of Turnus. The Poet was -now for once upon true national ground: he was an Italian -minstrel, singing to Italians, whether truly or mythically is of less -consequence, about an Italian hero. Thus he had something like -the proper materials to work with; and the result is one worthy -of his noble powers, though it has the strange consequence -of setting all the best sympathies of his readers, and of implying -that his own were already set, in direct opposition to the -ostensible purpose of his poem.</p> - -<p>It appears, however, as if this great and splendid Poet, -being thrown out of his true bearings in regard to all the -deeper sources of interest on which an epic writer must depend, -such as religion, patriotism, and liberty, became consequently -reckless, alike in major and in minor matters, as to all the -inner harmonies of his work, and contented himself with the -most unwearied and fastidious labours in its outward elaboration, -where he could give scope to his extraordinary powers of versification -and of diction without fear of stumbling upon anything -unfit for the artificial atmosphere of the Roman court. -The consequence is, that a vein of untruthfulness runs throughout -the whole Æneid, as strong and as remarkable as is the -genuineness of thought and feeling in the Homeric poems. -Homer walks in the open day, Virgil by lamplight. Homer -gives us figures that breathe and move, Virgil usually treats us -to waxwork. Homer has the full force and play of the drama, -Virgil is essentially operatic. From Virgil back to Homer is a -greater distance, than from Homer back to life.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homer is misapprehended through Virgil.</i></div> - -<p>But more. Virgil is at once the copyist of Homer, and, -for the generality of educated men, his interpreter<a name="FNanchor_891_891" id="FNanchor_891_891"></a><a href="#Footnote_891_891" class="fnanchor">[891]</a>. In all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[513]</a></span> -modern Europe taken together, Virgil has had ten who read him, -and ten who remember him, for one that Homer could show. -Taking this in conjunction with the great extent of the ground -they occupy in common, we may find reason to think that the -traditional and public idea of Homer’s works, throughout the -entire sphere of the Western civilization, has been formed, to a -much greater degree than could at first be supposed, by the -Virgilian copies from him. This is only to say, in other -words, that it has been sadly impaired, not to say seriously -falsified; for there is scarcely a point of vital moment, in -which Virgil follows Homer faithfully, or represents him either -fairly or completely. Now this traditional idea is not -only the stock idea that governs the indifferent public, but it -is likewise the idea with which the individual student starts, -and which governs him until he has reached such a point in -his progress as to discover the necessity, and be conscious moreover -of the strength, to throw it off. This, however, is a point -that, from the nature of human life and its pursuits, very few -students indeed can reach at all. Elsewhere we shall see, -with what evil and untrue effect Virgil has handled some of -the Homeric characters. It is the same in every minor trait; -and it seems strange that so great a Poet should not have had -enough of reverence for another Poet, greater still and enshrined -in almost the worship of all ages, to have restrained him from -such constant and wanton, as well as wilful, mutilations of the -Homeric tradition. It would, however, appear that Virgil’s -miscarriages are not all due to carelessness, in the common -sense of it. In many instances, unless so far as they can be -referred to the necessities that press upon a courtier, it would -seem as if they must be ascribable to torpor in the faculties, or -defect in the habit of mind, by which Homer should have been -appreciated. Nay, sometimes he appears to have been moved -simply by metrical convenience to alter the traditions of -Homer. Let us take first a minor instance to test this assertion.</p> - -<p>Nothing can be more marked than the prominence of the -Scamander as compared with the Simois in Homer. The -Simois is named by him only six times, and none of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[514]</a></span> -passages show it to have been a considerable stream. In the -Twenty-first Book<a name="FNanchor_892_892" id="FNanchor_892_892"></a><a href="#Footnote_892_892" class="fnanchor">[892]</a>, Scamander invites Simois to join him in -pouring forth the flood which was to bear away Achilles, but -his ‘brother’ neither replies, nor takes part in the action. It -would appear, indeed, from geographical considerations, which -belong to the topography of the Troad, that in the summer -Simois was probably dry. This entirely accords with the passage -in which this river supplies <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀμβροσίη</span><a name="FNanchor_893_893" id="FNanchor_893_893"></a><a href="#Footnote_893_893" class="fnanchor">[893]</a>, a figure, as may be -presumed, of grass, for the horses of Juno. At any rate, that -passage is at variance with the idea of the river as a tearing -torrent. Again, Homer mentions<a name="FNanchor_894_894" id="FNanchor_894_894"></a><a href="#Footnote_894_894" class="fnanchor">[894]</a> that many heroes fell, -he does not say in, but about, the stream: above all, he does -not say they fell into its waters, but in the dust of it, or -near it:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">καὶ Σιμόεις, ὅθι πολλὰ βοάγρια καὶ τρυφάλειαι</div> - <div class="verse">κάππεσον ἐν κονίῃσι.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, Scamander is personified as the god Xanthus, and -plays a great part in the action: Simois is not personified at -all. Scamander is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῖος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">διοτρεφὴς</span> and much besides: Simois -has no epithets. Simoeisius is the son of Anthemion, a person -of secondary account; but Scamandrius is the name given by -Hector to his boy. Simois, for all we know, may have been -either a dry bed, or little better than a rivulet; but armed men -are thrown into Scamander, and whirled by him to the sea. -Lastly, the plain where the Greek army was reviewed is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λειμὼν -Σκαμάνδριος</span>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πέδιον Σκαμάνδριον</span>. Now a right conception of -these rivers is not altogether an insignificant affair, but is material -to the clearness of our ideas upon the military action of the -poem. What then has Virgil done with them? He has simply -reversed the Homeric representation. Xanthus is with him the -unmarked river, Simois is the mighty torrent. Witness these -passages:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Mitto ea, quæ muris bellando exhausta sub altis,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Quos Simois premat ille viros.</span> (Æn. xi. 256.)</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Victor apud rapidum Simoenta sub Ilio alto.</span> (Æn. v. 261.)</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[515]</a></span></p> -<p>And most of all, the passage which he has directly carried off -from Homer, and corrupted it on his way (Æn. i. 104):</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10">Ubi tot Simois correpta sub undis</div> - <div class="verse">Scuta virûm galeasque et fortia corpora volvit.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And why all this? Plainly, I apprehend, because, while Scamander -was a word disqualified from entering into the Latin -hexameter, Xanthus also was somewhat less convenient than -Simois for the march of his resounding verse. Now this is a -sample in small things of what Virgil has done in nearly all -things, both small and great.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νεκυΐα</span> of Homer and Virgil.</i></div> - -<p>There are instances in which Virgil is popularly thought to -profit by the comparison with Homer, and where, notwithstanding, -a full consideration may lead to a reversal of the sentence. -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νεκυΐα</span> of the Eleventh Odyssey, for example, is thought -inferior to that of the Sixth Æneid. To bring them fairly -together, we should perhaps put out of view the philosophical -and prophetical part of the latter<a name="FNanchor_895_895" id="FNanchor_895_895"></a><a href="#Footnote_895_895" class="fnanchor">[895]</a>; but whether we do it or -not is little material in the comparison. In either way, the -<i>Inferno</i> of Virgil is, upon the whole, a stage procession of stately -and gorgeous figures; but it has no consistent or veracious relation -to any idea of the future or unseen state actually operative -among mankind. Yet there existed such an idea, at least -in the times of which Virgil was treating, if not at the period -when he lived. It was surely a subject of the deepest interest, -and of the most solemn pathos. What we are as men here depends -very much on our conception of what we are hereafter to -be. There is nothing more touching in all the history of the -race of Adam, than its blind and painful feeling after a future -still invisible. There is no witness to the comparative degradation -of a race or age, so sure as its having ceased to yearn -towards any thing beyond the grave. Homer has shown us -in the Eleventh Odyssey<a name="FNanchor_896_896" id="FNanchor_896_896"></a><a href="#Footnote_896_896" class="fnanchor">[896]</a>, that, together with his keen sense -of the present and visible, he felt the full force of this mysterious -drawing towards the unseen. He is plainly as much in -earnest here, as in any part of the poems. Virgil, on the other -hand, succeeds in investing his hell with almost unequalled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[516]</a></span> -pomp, approximating at times to splendour. Homer attempts -nothing of the kind; but he produces a perfect and profound -impression of those regions, according to the idea in his own -mind: they are shadowy, gloomy, cold, above all, and in one -word, dismal. Virgil contrives to leave the reader convinced -that <i>he</i> is a very great artist: Homer lets all such matters -take care of themselves. But while Virgil creates no impression -at all on the mind as to the World of Shades, no image of -the timid, vague, and dim belief that was entertained respecting -it, Homer has set it all before us with a truthfulness never -equalled or approached. And yet Virgil abounds in details -and measurements which Homer avoids. Tartarus is twice as -deep as the distance from earth to sky<a name="FNanchor_897_897" id="FNanchor_897_897"></a><a href="#Footnote_897_897" class="fnanchor">[897]</a>, and the Hydra has -fifty mouths. Yet the details of the one give no impression of -reality, while the utter local vagueness and dreaminess of the -other is far more definite in its effect, because it is made to -minister to the appropriate ideas of sadness, sympathy, and -awe. As to particular passages, the appearance of Dido is -full of grandeur; but her silence, the basis of it, is borrowed -from that of Ajax; while in the Odyssey the striding of Achilles -in silence over the meadow of asphodel, when he swells with exultation -upon hearing that his son excelled in council and in -war, is perhaps one of the most sublime pieces of human representation, -which Homer himself ever has produced.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Ethnological dislocations.</i></div> - -<p>Let us now give an instance of Virgil’s utter indifference to -historic truth and consistency. It is the more remarkable, -because as he was pretending to derive the Julian family from -the stock of Æneas, there would apparently have been some -advantage in adhering strictly to the Homeric distinctions as -to races on both sides in the Trojan war. But this appears to -be entirely beneath his attention. For instance, he calls the -Homeric Greeks Pelasgi<a name="FNanchor_898_898" id="FNanchor_898_898"></a><a href="#Footnote_898_898" class="fnanchor">[898]</a>. It may be said he was guided by -the Italian traditions, which connected the Greek and Pelasgian -names as early colonists of that country. But first, some -regard should be paid to Homer in matters which concern -Troy; and it is rather violent to call the Greeks Pelasgi,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[517]</a></span> -when the only Pelasgi named in the war by the Poet are -placed on the side of their enemies. Secondly, as it was his -purpose throughout to depress the Greeks, why should he thus -thrust them into view as one with an Italian race? Above all, -why do this in a case, where Homer had himself supplied a -link between Italy and Troy? Again, Virgil calls the Greek -camp <span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>Dorica</i> castra</span><a name="FNanchor_899_899" id="FNanchor_899_899"></a><a href="#Footnote_899_899" class="fnanchor">[899]</a>. But the Dorians at the period of the -Trojan war were utterly insignificant, and are never once -named by Homer in connection with the contest. Again, -Virgil calls Diomed, and the city of Arpi founded by him, -Ætolian, and makes him complain that he was not allowed to -go back to Calydon<a name="FNanchor_900_900" id="FNanchor_900_900"></a><a href="#Footnote_900_900" class="fnanchor">[900]</a>, simply because his father Tydeus, as a -son of Œneus, had been of Ætolian extraction; though he -commanded the Argives, and had nothing whatever to do with -the Ætolians of Homer. Again, following a late and purposeless -tradition, he calls Ulysses Æolides<a name="FNanchor_901_901" id="FNanchor_901_901"></a><a href="#Footnote_901_901" class="fnanchor">[901]</a>, though Homer has -given the descent of Ulysses<a name="FNanchor_902_902" id="FNanchor_902_902"></a><a href="#Footnote_902_902" class="fnanchor">[902]</a> without in any manner attaching -it to the line of the Æolids, a collection of families whose descent, -on account probably of their historical importance, he is -more than ordinarily careful to mark.</p> - -<p>With cases of simple inaccuracy, to which I do not seek to attach -undue weight, we may connect the manner in which he confounds, -on the other side, the distinctions of the Trojan races, so -accurately marked by Homer. In the Twentieth Iliad, the genealogy -of the reigning families of Troy and of Dardania is given -with great precision. The distinction between Trojans and Dardanians -is preserved through the Iliad, though the Trojan name -is sometimes, but rarely, used to include the whole indigenous -army, and sometimes it even signifies the entire force, including -the allies, which opposed the Greek army. We might here, -however, suppose that it would have been in the interest of -Virgil’s aim to maintain, or even sharpen, the distinction -between the Dardanian line, which was at most but indirectly -worsted by the Greeks, and the line of Ilus, which fatally -both sinned and suffered in the conflict of the <i>Troica</i>. But, on -the contrary, he is still less discriminating in the use of names -here, than he has been for the Greeks. The companions of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[518]</a></span> -Æneas are sometimes Teucri, Trojani, or Trojugenæ—sometimes -Æneadæ, sometimes Dardanidæ. In the first of these names -he entirely contravenes Homer, who produces a Teucer eminent -among the Greeks, but nowhere connects the name with Troy, -while Virgil makes a Cretan Teucer<a name="FNanchor_903_903" id="FNanchor_903_903"></a><a href="#Footnote_903_903" class="fnanchor">[903]</a> the founder of the Trojan -race. I grant that he here founds himself upon what may be -called a separate tradition, though it is vague and slender, of -a Teucrian race in Troas. In the two last appellations, without -any authority, he wholly alters the effect of the Greek patronymic, -and changes the mere family-name into a national appellation. -Then again they appear as the Pergamea gens<a name="FNanchor_904_904" id="FNanchor_904_904"></a><a href="#Footnote_904_904" class="fnanchor">[904]</a>. -But Pergamus in Homer was simply the citadel of Troy, and is -a correlative to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πύργος</span><a name="FNanchor_905_905" id="FNanchor_905_905"></a><a href="#Footnote_905_905" class="fnanchor">[905]</a>: the English might almost as well be -called the people of the Tower. Not content yet, he will also -have the Trojans to be Phryges:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Phrygibusque adsis pede, diva, secundo</span><a name="FNanchor_906_906" id="FNanchor_906_906"></a><a href="#Footnote_906_906" class="fnanchor">[906]</a>;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>though in Homer the Phrygians are a people both ethnologically -and politically separate<a name="FNanchor_907_907" id="FNanchor_907_907"></a><a href="#Footnote_907_907" class="fnanchor">[907]</a> from the Trojan races. Again as -to Æneas himself. He is called Rhæteius heros<a name="FNanchor_908_908" id="FNanchor_908_908"></a><a href="#Footnote_908_908" class="fnanchor">[908]</a>; but if Virgil -chose thus to designate his hero by reference to a single point -of the Trojan territory, it should have been one with which he -was locally connected, whereas the dominions of his family -were not near the promontory or upon the coast, but among -the hills at the other extreme of the country. Then again -Æneas is Laomedontius heros<a name="FNanchor_909_909" id="FNanchor_909_909"></a><a href="#Footnote_909_909" class="fnanchor">[909]</a>; but Laomedon was of the -branch of Ilus, while Æneas belonged to that of Assaracus; -and was moreover perjured, while the line of Assaracus was -marked with no such taint. So we have again—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dardanus, Iliacæ primus pater urbis et auctor</span><a name="FNanchor_910_910" id="FNanchor_910_910"></a><a href="#Footnote_910_910" class="fnanchor">[910]</a>;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>but Dardanus founded Dardania, while Ilium did not exist -until the time of his great grandson Ilus. And here Virgil -seems wholly to forget that he had himself made Teucer the -head of the race<a name="FNanchor_911_911" id="FNanchor_911_911"></a><a href="#Footnote_911_911" class="fnanchor">[911]</a>. In describing the migration of this hero -from Crete to Troas, he says:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[519]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nondum Ilium et arces</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Pergameæ steterant; habitabant vallibus imis</span><a name="FNanchor_912_912" id="FNanchor_912_912"></a><a href="#Footnote_912_912" class="fnanchor">[912]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here he not only rejects Homer, who places Dardanus and the -original settlement among the mountains, but likewise represents -what is in itself improbable, since eminences, and not -bottoms, were commonly sought by the first colonists with a -view to security. Choosing to depart from Homer, he does not -even agree with Apollodorus<a name="FNanchor_913_913" id="FNanchor_913_913"></a><a href="#Footnote_913_913" class="fnanchor">[913]</a>. Lastly, he is not less neglectful -of the actual topography; for he implies that Ilium is among -the hills, while it was, according to Homer’s express words and -according to universal opinion, on the plain as opposed to the -hills. Again we have from Virgil the allusion—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent10"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">quibus obstitit Ilium, et ingens</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Gloria Dardaniæ</span><a name="FNanchor_914_914" id="FNanchor_914_914"></a><a href="#Footnote_914_914" class="fnanchor">[914]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here is another case of metre against history, and in all such -cases history must go (as is said) to the wall. <i>Ilium</i> would -not satisfactorily admit the genitive case; there could therefore -be no glory of Ilium, and on this account Virgil liberally -assigns vast renown to Dardania, which was a place of no renown -whatever. But he is quite as ready, it must be admitted, -to contradict himself as he is to contradict Homer. In Æn. ii. -540, he gives it to be understood that the city of Troy alone -was the kingdom of Priam, and that the Greek camp was -beyond it, for he makes Priam say of his return from the -camp,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent6"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">meque in mea regna remisit</span>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But a very little further on he calls Priam (v. 556),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">tot quondam populis regnisque superbum</div> - <div class="verse">Regnatorem Asiæ.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Each account is alike inaccurate: Priam had more than a city, -but his dominions were confined to a mere nook of Asia Minor. -And again, before quitting this part of the subject, let us observe -how, in the case of Anchises, he departs from Homer, -even where it would have served the purpose of his story to -follow him closely. The Anchises of Homer is an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν</span>; -he does not appear at Troy among the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημογέροντες</span> of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[520]</a></span> -city, or of Priam’s court, which would have made him a -secondary figure; he resides at Dardania as an independent -sovereign, and it seems not unlikely that in lineal dignity, at -least, he was even before Priam. But the Anchises of Virgil -is resident in Troy<a name="FNanchor_915_915" id="FNanchor_915_915"></a><a href="#Footnote_915_915" class="fnanchor">[915]</a>; and is therefore, of course, to be taken -for a subject of Priam. Here the alteration very much lowers -the rank of Æneas, and so far, therefore, of Augustus.</p> - -<p>The effect of all this is, without any real gain either moral -or poetical, entirely to bewilder the mind of the reader of the -Æneid, in regard to a subject of real interest both historical -and ethnological, with respect to which Homer has left on record -a most careful and clear representation. It must indeed be -admitted, that the intervening poets had set many examples of -similar license; indeed they had made irregularity a rule; but -they had no such powerful reasons as Virgil had for imitating, -in some points at least, the precision of Homer, and besides, he -has perhaps exceeded them all in the multitude and variety of -his departures from it. On the other hand, some allowance, I -admit, should be made for the less flexible character of the Latin -tongue, which might have made the peculiar accuracy of Homer -a real difficulty to Virgil.</p> - -<p>I have thus minutely traced out this course of inconsistency -and contradiction in particular instances, because they are -highly illustrative of the character of Virgil’s work, if not of -his mind. After the political and courtly idea of the poem, he -seems to have abandoned all solicitude except for its form and -sound, and to have been totally indifferent as to presenting any -veracious, or if that word imply too much credulity, any self-consistent -pattern, of manners, places, events, or characters.</p> - -<p>Virgil must, materially at least, have saturated himself with -the Iliad before he planned the Æneid, for his borrowing is -alike incessant and diversified; and this it is which renders it -so singular that he should at once have exposed himself to the -double charge of servilely imitating and of gratuitously disfiguring -his original.</p> - -<p>If we look to the action of the Twelfth Book of the Æneid, -it is all made up from Homer cut in pieces and recast. It -begins with the idea of the single combat, borrowed from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[521]</a></span> -Third and Seventh Iliads. Then come the pact and the breach -of it by Juturna, under Juno’s influence, which are borrowed -from the treachery of Pandarus, prompted by Minerva, under -the same instigation. Next, the flight of Turnus before Æneas -is borrowed from that of Hector before Achilles. After this, -Turnus is disabled by a divine agency, like Patroclus before -Hector; a downfall brought about in the one case, as in the -other, without peril and without honour, so that here we have -a copy even of one among the few points where the Iliad was -little worthy to be imitated. Lastly, the thought of Pallas in -the mind of Æneas (more highly wrought, however, and very -effective), plays the part of the recollection of Patroclus<a name="FNanchor_916_916" id="FNanchor_916_916"></a><a href="#Footnote_916_916" class="fnanchor">[916]</a> in the -mind of Achilles.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Unfaithful imitations of detail.</i></div> - -<p>Both here and elsewhere, the imitations in detail are too -numerous to be noted. Some of them even descend to a character -which, independently of their minuteness, approaches the -ludicrous. The very dung, in which the Oilean Ajax loses his -footing<a name="FNanchor_917_917" id="FNanchor_917_917"></a><a href="#Footnote_917_917" class="fnanchor">[917]</a>, in the Twenty-third Iliad, is reproduced in the Fifth -Æneid, that Nisus may flounder in it. But even here we may -note two characteristic differences. Homer trips up a personage, -whom he has no particular occasion to set off favourably. Virgil -chooses for the object of derision Nisus, on whom, in the beautiful -episode which soon after follows, he is about to concentrate all -the tenderest sympathies of his hearers. And again, Homer -makes Ajax slip where, as he says, the oxen had just been slain -over Patroclus: Virgil has no such probable cause to allege for -the presence of the obnoxious material<a name="FNanchor_918_918" id="FNanchor_918_918"></a><a href="#Footnote_918_918" class="fnanchor">[918]</a>, but says <i>cæsis forte -juvencis</i>. Now the Trojans had in fact left the tomb of Anchises, -and had gone to a chosen spot to celebrate the foot-races<a name="FNanchor_919_919" id="FNanchor_919_919"></a><a href="#Footnote_919_919" class="fnanchor">[919]</a>; -so that even his gore and ordure are quite out of place.</p> - -<p>So again, of all the <i>formulæ</i> in Homer, it is not very clear -why Virgil should have chosen to recall the rather commonplace -line</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ πόσιος καὶ ἐδήτυος ἐξ ἔρον ἕντο</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>in his own more ambitious and resounding verse,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Postquam exemta fames, et amor compressus edendi</span><a name="FNanchor_920_920" id="FNanchor_920_920"></a><a href="#Footnote_920_920" class="fnanchor">[920]</a>;</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[522]</a></span></p> -<p>but it is still more singular that, instead of saying that hunger -and thirst were satisfied, he should leave out thirst altogether, -and fill up his hexameter by mentioning hunger twice over.</p> - -<p>Still it seems not a little strange, notwithstanding the power -of the disabling causes which have been enumerated, that, with -so vast an amount of material imitation, Virgil should not have -acquired, even by accident or by sheer force of use, some traits -of nearer resemblance in feeling, and in ethical handling, to his -great original.</p> - -<p>His maltreatment of the Homeric characters is most conspicuous, -perhaps, in the instance of Helen. This case, indeed, -deserves a separate consideration of the causes which have -reduced a beautiful, touching, and remarkably original portrait -to a gross and most common caricature. But Ulysses, as the -prince of policy, had perhaps a better claim to be comprehended -by a Roman at the court of Augustus. Yet the Ulysses -of Virgil simply represents the naked ideas of hardness, cunning, -and cruelty. He is never named but to be abused; and, though -the mention of him is not very frequent, it is easy to construct -from the poem a pretty large catalogue of vituperative epithets, -unmitigated by any single one of an opposite character. He is -<i>durus</i>, <i>dirus</i>, <i>sævus</i>, <i>pellax</i>, <i>fandi fictor</i>, <i>artifex</i>, <i>inventor scelerum</i>, -and <i>scelerum hortator</i>. Even physical circumstances, -however, and those too of the broadest notoriety, Virgil entirely -overlooks. Nothing can be more at variance with the effeminate -character of the Homeric Paris, his impotence in fight, and his -distinction limited to the bow, which was then the coward’s -weapon, than to represent him as possessed of vast physical -force. Yet even on this Virgil has ventured. In the games of -the Fifth Book, when Æneas invites candidates for the pugilistic -encounter, the huge Dares immediately presents himself, and -he is described as the only person who could box with Paris<a name="FNanchor_921_921" id="FNanchor_921_921"></a><a href="#Footnote_921_921" class="fnanchor">[921]</a>!</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Solus qui Paridem solitus contendere contra</span>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Heyne urges by way of apology the authority of Hyginus, -who was no more than the contemporary of Virgil himself; -and presumes that Virgil followed authorities now lost: a -sorry defence, because the representation is inconsistent not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[523]</a></span> -merely with the facts, but with the essential idea of the Paris -of Homer, and therefore proves that Virgil did not try or care -to understand the character, or to be faithful to his master.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Maltreatment of Mythology and Ethics.</i></div> - -<p>But it is time to give some instances, which show an utter -disregard of either mythological or moral consistency.</p> - -<p>In the Eighth Æneid, Æneas and Anchises are much troubled -in mind; and so it appears they must have continued,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nî signum cœlo Cytherea dedisset aperto;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Namque improviso vibratus ab æthere fulgor</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Cum sonitu venit</span><a name="FNanchor_922_922" id="FNanchor_922_922"></a><a href="#Footnote_922_922" class="fnanchor">[922]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This idea of a <i>Cytherea tonans</i> is as incongruous as it is -novel. To preserve the characteristic attributes of the several -deities of the Pagan mythology contributes to beauty, and was -therefore at least an obligation imposed by the poetic art; but -Virgil is not content with simply departing from it by taking -the management of thunder and lightning out of the hands of -Jupiter and the highest deities; he cannot be satisfied without -giving it to Venus. With her Homeric character, and with any -consistent conception of her attributes, it is utterly irreconcilable.</p> - -<p>But again, in the Second Æneid, Virgil makes Venus address -to her son the following majestic lines, when he was about to -slay Helen amidst the conflagration of Troy:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non tibi Tyndaridis facies invisa Lacænæ</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Culpatusve Paris: Divûm inclementia, Divûm</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Has evertit opes, sternitque a culmine Trojam</span><a name="FNanchor_923_923" id="FNanchor_923_923"></a><a href="#Footnote_923_923" class="fnanchor">[923]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In which he plainly imitates the words of Priam,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὔτι μοι αἰτίη ἐσσὶ, θεοί νύ μοι αἴτιοί εἰσιν,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἵ μοι ἐφώρμησαν πόλεμον πολύδακρυν Ἀχαιῶν</span><a name="FNanchor_924_924" id="FNanchor_924_924"></a><a href="#Footnote_924_924" class="fnanchor">[924]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now, even with reference to the acquittal of Helen, the cases -are quite dissimilar. What Homer puts into the mouth of Priam, -Virgil stamps with the authority of a deity: what Priam says -of the Homeric Helen, who had been carried off by Paris, and -whose general character was very far from depraved, the Venus -of Virgil says of a hardened traitress as well as adulteress. -Again, what Priam says relative to himself, ‘<i>I</i> do not blame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[524]</a></span> -thee,’ seems in the Æneid to resemble the unlimited enunciation -of an abstract proposition. But, above all, let us notice -how lamentably Virgil has mauled the sentiment by introducing -Paris into the passage, of whose moral guilt, if there be such -a thing as moral guilt upon earth, there could be no doubt, -and whom Homer, with true poetic justice, has taken care to -punish by making him the object of the general reprobation -and hatred of his countrymen<a name="FNanchor_925_925" id="FNanchor_925_925"></a><a href="#Footnote_925_925" class="fnanchor">[925]</a>. In acquitting such an offender, -and throwing the charge of his crimes upon the Immortals, by -the mouth, too, of one belonging to their number, Virgil has -given into the worst form of fatalism, that namely which annihilates -all moral sanctions and ideas as applicable to human -conduct.</p> - -<p>And this he has done with no plea whatever which might -have been drawn, <i>valeat quantum</i>, from the exigencies of his -poem. Paris was not before the eye of Æneas: Venus was -not dissuading her son from taking vengeance upon Paris; he -is forced into our sight; the allusion is as irrelevant with reference -to the purpose of the passage, as it is blameworthy in -an ethical point of view; and in all probability the mention of -him is introduced for no other reason than that it supplied -Virgil with a hemistich to fill up a gap in an extremely fine -passage, and to secure its prosodial equilibrium, to which the -balance of moral sanctions is sacrificed without remorse.</p> - -<p>As it is with the management of his gods, so with his conception -of human nature; Virgil seems to have lost the sight of -its higher prerogatives, and especially of the great and noble -truth, that it is susceptible of divine influences without the loss -of its free agency. The poems of Homer, notwithstanding -their copious theurgy, are throughout eminently and entirely -human. Their human agency is adorned and elevated (as well -as unhappily lowered and darkened), it is even modified and -controlled, but never inwardly mutilated, curtailed or superseded, -by the interference of the Immortals. But, in regard -to his relations with the deities, Æneas is a mere puppet; and -the gallant spirit of Turnus on his last battlefield is, as it were, -put down within him by main force from heaven.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[525]</a></span></p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Æneas and Dido in the Shades.</i></div> - -<p>Thus for example, Virgil is not ashamed to introduce to us -Æneas in the shades below apologizing to Dido for his black -desertion of her by saying, ‘he could not help it, the gods -compelled him; and really he never thought she would take it -so much to heart.’</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Invitus, regina, tuo de litore cessi;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sed me jussa deûm ...</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Imperiis egere suis; nec credere quivi</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Hunc tantum tibi me discessu ferre dolorem</span><a name="FNanchor_926_926" id="FNanchor_926_926"></a><a href="#Footnote_926_926" class="fnanchor">[926]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Compare with this the extraordinary truth, beauty, and -manfulness of the speech, in which Ulysses takes his farewell -of Calypso<a name="FNanchor_927_927" id="FNanchor_927_927"></a><a href="#Footnote_927_927" class="fnanchor">[927]</a>. This is its tenour: ‘Be not incensed; I know -Penelope is less beautiful than thou; yet is my desire, from day -by day, towards my home; and if I be wrecked upon my way, -this too I will endure, even as I have endured much before.’ -In Virgil’s hands, the chief would probably have shuffled off -the responsibility from himself upon the shoulders of the gods. -Never shall we find one of Homer’s heroes doing this, either -beforehand, as by saying, ‘I do not wish to do it, but I am -ordered,’ or retrospectively. There is one exception; it is -when Agamemnon says that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἄτη</span>, the goddess of Mischief, with -Jupiter, had misled him<a name="FNanchor_928_928" id="FNanchor_928_928"></a><a href="#Footnote_928_928" class="fnanchor">[928]</a>, and that he was not himself to blame. -But Agamemnon, alone among the Greek heroes, had in his -character a strong element of what we call shabbiness; and -what is more, he uses this plea only after making reparation, -and not, as Æneas does, in lieu of any. To resume, however, -the thread. Sometimes the Homeric heroes are pious, sometimes -disobedient; sometimes bold, and sometimes fearful; -sometimes they submit to overpowering force, sometimes they -struggle even against destiny; but they never appear before -us shorn of the first attribute of manhood, its free will.</p> - -<p>It seems then that Virgil really did not care to form the habit, -and thus commonly failed in the power, of working the higher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_526" id="Page_526">[526]</a></span> -springs of our nature. He puts the clay into the fire, but the -pitcher does not always come out such as he intended it; not -even when, instead of trusting, like Homer, to simple action as -the vehicle of his meaning, he uses the precautionary measure -of describing it.</p> - -<p>Thus he prepares us to expect in Mezentius a monster of -impiety, cruelty, and brutality, from the account and the epithets -by which he is introduced to us<a name="FNanchor_929_929" id="FNanchor_929_929"></a><a href="#Footnote_929_929" class="fnanchor">[929]</a>. In words scattered here -and there, this ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">contemptor divûm</span>’ is made to sustain his impious -character. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dextra mihi deus</i>, he says; and again <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">nec divûm -parcimus ulli</i><a name="FNanchor_930_930" id="FNanchor_930_930"></a><a href="#Footnote_930_930" class="fnanchor">[930]</a>. But these are really mere black patches, set -upon a character with which they do not accord; they remain -patches still, and not parts of it. Practically, Mezentius proceeds -in the poem only as an affectionate father, and as a gallant -warrior, should do; and there is no more of real impiety in him, -than there is of real piety in Æneas. Nay, here again Virgil -shows his contempt of consistency. For, when Mezentius slays -Orodes, who prophesied that his conqueror would meet with -a similar fate upon the field of battle, Mezentius replies in the -most decorous manner (copying the very language of Achilles -to the dying Hector<a name="FNanchor_931_931" id="FNanchor_931_931"></a><a href="#Footnote_931_931" class="fnanchor">[931]</a>),</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nunc morere. Ast de me divûm pater atque hominum rex</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Viderit</span><a name="FNanchor_932_932" id="FNanchor_932_932"></a><a href="#Footnote_932_932" class="fnanchor">[932]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Woman characters of Homer and Virgil.</i></div> - -<p>Though Virgil is esteemed a woman-hater, he has availed -himself of the use of female characters to a degree only exceeded, -so far as I recollect, by the highly susceptible Tasso. -His celestial machinery is principally worked by Juno and by -Venus: we miss altogether in him that jovial might of the -Homeric Jupiter, which is recalled in the historic portraits of -king Henry the Eighth of England. Of mortals we have, besides -the mute Lavinia, and minor or transitory personages, -Dido, Juturna, Amata, Camilla. All these play very marked -parts in the poem; indeed, they supply the mainsprings of -the action; and the characters of all are drawn with great -spirit and success, while the Passion of Dido will probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_527" id="Page_527">[527]</a></span> -always be quoted as the most magnificent witness, which the -whole range of the poem affords, to the original power and -genius of its author. Yet even in these, his signal successes, it -is curious to notice the dissimilarity between Virgil and Homer. -Homer, too, has been eminently successful in his women. His -greater studies of Helen, Andromache, and Penelope are fully -sustained by the truth and force of all the less conspicuous -delineations: Hecuba, Briseis, the incomparable Nausicaa, the -faithful Euryclea, the pert and heartless Melantho. But how -different are the works of the two poets! In all Virgil’s women -(as on the other hand his men are apt to be effeminate) there is -a tinge of the masculine. Many a woman would stab herself -for love like Dido; but none, not even in France, with her pomp, -apparatus, and self-consciousness. Their fates, too, are all of -a violent character. Amata, as well as Dido, commits suicide; -Camilla is slain; Juturna is immortal indeed, but is dismissed -from earth with what for her comes nearest to an image of -death; with defeat, mortification, shame. But on the contrary, -the feminineness of Homer’s women has never been surpassed. -In Hecuba alone, at one single point in the story, there is an -apparent exception; yet it is no great violence done to nature, -if we find in her after Hector’s death the wild ferocity of the -dam deprived of her offspring, and if revenge then drives her -for a moment into the temper of a cannibal. Elsewhere beyond -doubt, even in Melantho, the feminine character is not wholly obliterated, -but is left at the point where in actual life licentiousness -and vanity might leave it. In Helen, Andromache, Nausicaa, -it reaches a perfection which has never been surpassed, unless -by Shakespeare, in human song. There is, however, something -to be observed, which is more striking and characteristic. The -Virgilian delineations of women tell us absolutely nothing, or -next to nothing, of the social position of womankind either at -the epoch of Æneas or at any other; a matter which has stood -so differently in different ages and states of mankind, yet which -has at all times been one of the surest tests for distinguishing -a true and healthy from a hollow civilization. But the Homeric -poems furnish a picture of this interesting subject not a whit -less complete than any other picture they contain. The Woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_528" id="Page_528">[528]</a></span> -of the heroic age of Greece stands before us in that immortal -verse no less clear, no less truly drawn, no less carefully shaded, -than the Warrior, the Statesman, and the King.</p> - -<p>These are great matters: but Virgil is also as careless, as -Homer is careful, of minor proprieties. For instance, he describes -the Italian smiths engaged in preparing suits of armour -upon the invasion of Æneas. Some, he says, make breastplates -of brass; and he continues,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Aut leves ocreas lento ducunt argento</span><a name="FNanchor_933_933" id="FNanchor_933_933"></a><a href="#Footnote_933_933" class="fnanchor">[933]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here, we presume, his purpose was to represent the hammering -process by a heavy spondaic line—in evident imitation of -Homer, who has done it still more completely in the</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θώρηκας ῥήξειν δηΐων ἀμφὶ στήθεσσιν</span><a name="FNanchor_934_934" id="FNanchor_934_934"></a><a href="#Footnote_934_934" class="fnanchor">[934]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But Homer always gains his metrical objects without injuring -the sense; Virgil, on the contrary, has committed an error, by -representing silver (a most rare and valuable metal, especially -in the Trojan times) as used in large masses for making -armour; and a grosser solecism, by representing the greaves as -made of far finer material than the breastplates. Perhaps he -was helped into this error by a careless reminiscence, that -Homer had in some way connected silver with the greaves. -This is not, however, in armour as generally used, but in the case -of some of the greatest chiefs, including Paris, whose dandyism, -we know, extended particularly to his arms. Nor are even his -greaves made of, or even plated with, silver, but only the -clasps of them:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κνημῖδας μὲν πρῶτα περὶ κνήμῃσιν ἔθηκεν</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλὰς, ἀργυρέοισιν ἐπισφυρίοις ἀραρυίας</span><a name="FNanchor_935_935" id="FNanchor_935_935"></a><a href="#Footnote_935_935" class="fnanchor">[935]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Virgil is careful enough as to geography, when he deals with -countries under the eye of his hearers. But he can scarcely -be excused for inverting the Homeric order of the mountains -piled up by the giants. Homer places Mount Pelion on Ossa, -and Ossa on Olympus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ὄσσαν ἐπ’ Οὐλύμπῳ μέμασαν θέμεν, αὐτὰρ ἐπ’ Ὄσσῃ</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Πήλιον εἰνοσίφυλλον</span><a name="FNanchor_936_936" id="FNanchor_936_936"></a><a href="#Footnote_936_936" class="fnanchor">[936]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_529" id="Page_529">[529]</a></span></p> - -<p>This description is in conformity with the proportionate heights -of the mountains, among which Olympus is the highest, Ossa -the next, Pelion the least. But Virgil makes Pelion the base, -and Olympus the <i>apex</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam</div> - <div class="verse">Scilicet, atque Ossæ frondosum involvere Olympum<a name="FNanchor_937_937" id="FNanchor_937_937"></a><a href="#Footnote_937_937" class="fnanchor">[937]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It is not simply that Homer is here geographically accurate, -and Virgil the reverse. Homer has adopted the pyramidal -structure, which satisfies the eye, and lays a firm and obvious -road, so to speak, to the skies. Virgil does not. He subjoins -to his description the verse,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ter pater extructos disjecit fulmine montes</span>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But Jupiter might have spared himself the trouble: the mountains -would have tumbled of themselves.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Confusion of natural Phenomena.</i></div> - -<p>Before parting from the subject, it may be well to give another -example of the indifference of Virgil to the association -between poetry, and the order of external nature as such. In -the Fourth Æneid, he speaks of Mercury as passing over -Mount Atlas on his way to Carthage; from what point I do -not now inquire. The lines are these<a name="FNanchor_938_938" id="FNanchor_938_938"></a><a href="#Footnote_938_938" class="fnanchor">[938]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Atlantis, cinctum assidue cui nubibus atris</div> - <div class="verse">Piniferum caput et vento pulsatur et imbri;</div> - <div class="verse">Nix humeros infusa tegit: tum flumina mento</div> - <div class="verse">Præcipitant senis, et glacie riget horrida barba.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>His pine-bearing head, girt with clouds, is beaten by wind -and rain. So far so good. But while such is the temperature -of the air at the summit, it grows colder, not warmer, as we -descend: for snow covers his shoulders. This is the second -image. Next, we mount again to his mouth, which discharges -rivers over his chin: and not even here have we done with incongruity, -for his beard, although thus watered from above, -is rough and stiff with ice. Now such a confusion, as is here -exhibited, of images which nature always exhibits in a fixed -and very imposing order, is, we may be assured, no mere -casual error, but indicates a rooted indifference about matters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_530" id="Page_530">[530]</a></span> -which the poets of nature study, not only with accuracy, but -with an accuracy which is the fruit of their reverence and love.</p> - -<p>The Dolopes of Homer are a part of the Myrmidons, for they -are the subjects of Phœnix<a name="FNanchor_939_939" id="FNanchor_939_939"></a><a href="#Footnote_939_939" class="fnanchor">[939]</a>, and Phœnix commands the fifth -division of the Myrmidons: they are named by Virgil as a -separate race<a name="FNanchor_940_940" id="FNanchor_940_940"></a><a href="#Footnote_940_940" class="fnanchor">[940]</a>. The Rhadamanthus of Homer appears to have -been conceived by the Poet as a mild and benevolent character, -for he is placed in the Plains of the Blest, while Minos administers -severer justice in the under-world. But the Rhadamanthus -of Virgil is the judge of the infernal regions, and is the -image of rigour; while his Minos<a name="FNanchor_941_941" id="FNanchor_941_941"></a><a href="#Footnote_941_941" class="fnanchor">[941]</a> has the very mild and also secondary -function of dealing, in the vestibule of the Shades, with -the cases of such persons as had been unjustly condemned on -earth<a name="FNanchor_942_942" id="FNanchor_942_942"></a><a href="#Footnote_942_942" class="fnanchor">[942]</a>. Again, where Homer uses exaggeration to enhance -effect, Virgil carries it far into caricature. In the Iliad, Diomed<a name="FNanchor_943_943" id="FNanchor_943_943"></a><a href="#Footnote_943_943" class="fnanchor">[943]</a> -heaves a stone, of a weight that ‘two men such as are nowadays -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἷοι νῦν βροτοί εἰσι</span>) could scarcely lift.’ He allows for a short -interval since the Trojan war, and says that two ordinary men -of his day could scarcely lift what warriors of extraordinary -strength, by an extraordinary effort, then raised and hurled. In -another place, Ajax flings a stone, such as even a man in the fullest -vigour could now scarcely hold<a name="FNanchor_944_944" id="FNanchor_944_944"></a><a href="#Footnote_944_944" class="fnanchor">[944]</a>. Again, Hector discharges -against the Greek rampart one which two strong men could -hardly raise with a lever; but then he is specially aided by Jupiter<a name="FNanchor_945_945" id="FNanchor_945_945"></a><a href="#Footnote_945_945" class="fnanchor">[945]</a>. -Now in the Fifth Æneid, Æneas gives to Mnestheus, as a -prize, a breastplate which he himself had won, the spoil of Demo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_531" id="Page_531">[531]</a></span>leos. -This Demoleos<a name="FNanchor_946_946" id="FNanchor_946_946"></a><a href="#Footnote_946_946" class="fnanchor">[946]</a> was no hero, for he is never named by -Homer; again, the Demoleos of Virgil wore the breastplate when -he chased the Trojans flying in all directions (‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">palantes</span>,’ Æn. v. -265), so that it must have been light to him: there was no time -at all for human degeneracy, since they are still his contemporaries -that are on the stage; and yet such was the weight of -this breastplate, that two men together could scarcely carry it -on their shoulders.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Vix illam famuli Phegeus Sagarisque ferebant</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Multiplicem, connixi humeris</span><a name="FNanchor_947_947" id="FNanchor_947_947"></a><a href="#Footnote_947_947" class="fnanchor">[947]</a>.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Let it not be thought that the varied examples, which have -here been quoted, are either irrelevant or without serious significance. -There cannot, surely, be a more decided error than -to treat accuracy in matters of this kind as a matter of sheer -indifference. It is not only inseparable from the function of -the primitive Poet as the historian of his subject, but it appertains -also to the perfection of his poetic nature, that he should -have a nice sense of proportion even in figurative language. I -have dwelt, however, upon minor points, not for their own -sake, but because the manner in which Virgil handles them -appears to throw no unimportant light upon the frame and -temper of his work at large, and of the later as compared with -the earliest poetry.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Contrast of principal aims.</i></div> - -<p>In diction, Virgil is ornate and Homer simple; in metre, -Virgil is uniform and sustained, Homer free and varied; in the -faculty of invention, for which the historical office of early -poetry still leaves ample room, Homer is inexhaustible, while, -from the needless accumulation of imitations in every sort and -size, Virgil gives ground to suspect that he was poor, at least -by comparison. The first thought of Homer was his subject, -and the second his nation; the first thought of Virgil was his -Emperor and the court around the throne, the second the elaboration -of his verse. Characters, feelings, facts, were used by -Virgil for producing on the mind the effect of scenic representation; -the end of Homer, on the contrary, was to give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_532" id="Page_532">[532]</a></span> -adequate vent, in and through these things poetically conceived -and handled, to his own yearnings, and to the sympathies of his -hearers<a name="FNanchor_948_948" id="FNanchor_948_948"></a><a href="#Footnote_948_948" class="fnanchor">[948]</a>. The intercommunion of spirit between the poet and -those to whom he sang, was not in him a sordid quest of popularity; -it was only an expression of the truth that he founded -both his composition and his hopes upon the basis of a great -effort to be the organ of the general heart of mankind. All -this we may discern in his notices, informal as they are, of the -profession of the minstrel:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἢ καὶ θέσπιν ἀοιδὸν, ὅ κεν τέρπῃσιν ἀείδων</span><a name="FNanchor_949_949" id="FNanchor_949_949"></a><a href="#Footnote_949_949" class="fnanchor">[949]</a>·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>in the names he assigns to them, where they were not historical -characters, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Δημόδοκος</span>, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Φήμιος Τερπιάδης</span>; in the moral uprightness -with which he invests them; for, though it was the -office of Phemius to delight, his heart was never with the licentious -and guilty band that held the palace of Ulysses:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅς ῥ’ ἤειδε μετὰ μνηστῆρσιν ἀνάγκῃ</span><a name="FNanchor_950_950" id="FNanchor_950_950"></a><a href="#Footnote_950_950" class="fnanchor">[950]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And again, in the offices of guardianship which they exercised; -for Agamemnon, when he left his home for Troy, carefully enjoined -upon the bard of his palace the care of Clytemnestra; -and his advice, with her own right sense, for a time stood her -in good stead<a name="FNanchor_951_951" id="FNanchor_951_951"></a><a href="#Footnote_951_951" class="fnanchor">[951]</a>. Such was the bard in the living description -of Homer; such he was represented in the Poet himself, never -thrust into view, but ever understood, ever perceived, through -his works. On the other hand, the character of the bard, as -exhibited in Virgil, is what may be termed professional: the -fire and power of genius may be in him, but they must work -only under conventional forms, and for ends prescribed according -to the spirit of that lower and narrower utility which -is, not logically perhaps, but yet very effectively, denominated -utilitarianism. A remarkably high form of exterior art, with a -radical inattention to substance, both of facts and laws, has -been the result in the case of Virgil. And it is rather significant, -that this great Poet has nowhere placed upon his canvass -the figure of the bard amidst the abodes of man; as if the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533">[533]</a></span> -type had perished from the earth in those degenerate days, and -the memory of him could not be recalled. An effete and corrupted -age could no longer conceive a mind like the mind of -Homer; an Æolian harp so finely strung, that it answers to -the faintest movement of the air by a proportionate vibration: -with every stronger current its music rises, along an almost -immeasurable scale, which begins with the lowest and softest -whisper, and ends in the full swell of the organ.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Change in the idea of the Poet’s office.</i></div> - -<p>By a false association of ideas, we have come to place accuracy -and genius in antagonism to one another. It is Homer -who may best undeceive us: except indeed that most complete -solution which the mind gladly perceives when, ascending to -the Author of all being, it finds in Him alone the source and -the perfection, alike of Order and of Light; alike of the most -minute, and of the most gigantic operations. But among men -Homer best exemplifies this union. It is not indeed the precision -of dry facts, terminating upon itself: it is the precision -of sympathies, of sympathies with nature and with man, to -which the minute and scrupulous adjustments of Homer are to -be referred; and this precision is probably due by no means to -conscious effort, but to the spontaneous operations of the soul. -In this view his far-famed, but not even yet fully fathomed, -accuracy is no deduction from his greatness, but is in truth a -proof of the near approach to perfection in the organization of -his faculties. The later poets have too often torn asunder, what -in him was harmoniously combined. They have conferred upon -their art a deadly gift, in claiming first an exemption <i>ad -libitum</i> from the laws, not only of dry fact, but of Truth in its -higher sense, of harmony and self-consistency, and of all, except -a merely external beauty, which was meant to be the vehicle -and not the substitute for all those great and discarded qualities. -In this work of laceration, Virgil has borne no secondary -share.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, though it is doubtless natural that Virgil -should be compared with Homer, the mind is astonished at -finding that he should so often even have gained a preference. -We may account for his being chosen as Dante’s guide, by -their being countrymen, and by the almost universal ignorance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_534" id="Page_534">[534]</a></span> -of Greek when Dante wrote. It is far more staggering to find -Saint Augustine emphatically call him<a name="FNanchor_952_952" id="FNanchor_952_952"></a><a href="#Footnote_952_952" class="fnanchor">[952]</a> <i>Poeta magnus omniumque -præclarissimus atque optimus</i>; for he was no stranger to -Greek influences, inasmuch as the philosophy of Plato had a -very high place in his estimation<a name="FNanchor_953_953" id="FNanchor_953_953"></a><a href="#Footnote_953_953" class="fnanchor">[953]</a>. Nor can this be readily accounted -for, except by the advantage which Virgil had through -writing in the Latin tongue, and by the very great decay of -poetical tastes and perceptions.</p> - -<p>Still let us not do wrong to the memory of him, who thrilled -with an immeasurable love, as he bore the sacred vessels of the -Muses; and who has received so unequivocally the seal of that -approbation of mankind, prolonged through ages, which comes -near to an infallible award. It is but fair to admit, that we -must not measure the relative rank of Homer and Virgil -simply by the comparative merits of their epic works. Homer -lived in the genial and joyous youth of a poetic nation and a -poetic religion, and amid the influences of the soul of freedom: -Virgil among a people always matter-of-fact rather than -poetical, in an age and a court where the heart and its emotions -were chilled, where liberty was dead, where religion was -a mockery, and the whole higher material of his art had passed -from freshness into the sear and yellow leaf. Whether Virgil, -if he had lived the life of Homer in Homer’s country and Homer’s -time, could have composed the Iliad and the Odyssey, may be -more than doubtful; but it is indisputably clear that Homer -could not have produced them, if it had been his misfortune to -live at the date and in the sphere of Virgil.</p> - -<p>I pass on now to make some attempt at comparison between -the work of Tasso and the Iliad of Homer. But although the -relation between the subjects appears to recommend the choice -of Tasso for this purpose rather than any other Italian poet, I -have to confess, that as far as the qualities of the men are concerned, -both Bojardo and Ariosto are in my estimation more -Homeric than Tasso; as being nearer to nature in its truest -sense, as not conveying the same impression of perpetual effort -and elaboration, as exempt from the temptation to the conceits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_535" id="Page_535">[535]</a></span> -so unhappily frequent in the <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerusalemme</i>, and generally as -working with a freer and broader touch, and exhibiting a more -vigorous and elastic movement.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The War of Troy and the Crusades.</i></div> - -<p>There is, however, a striking resemblance between the relation -in which the Trojan war stood to Greece, and that of the -Crusades to Western Europe. The political unity and collective -existence of Greece was greatly due to the first, that of Christendom -to the second. The combination of races and of chiefs, the -arduous character and extraordinary prolongation of the effort, -the chivalry displayed, the disorganizing effects upon the -countries which supplied the invading army, the representation -in each of Europe against Asia, of Western mankind meeting -Eastern mankind in arms, and the proof of superior prowess in -the former, establish many broad and deep analogies between -the subjects of these poems. In both struggles, too, the object -purported to be the recovery of that which the East had unrighteously -acquired: and into both what is called sentiment -far more largely entered, than is common in the history of the -wars which have laid desolate our earth.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Exaggeration as used by Homer and by Tasso.</i></div> - -<p>As Godfrey is Tasso’s version of Agamemnon, so the Rinaldo -of Tasso occupies a place in the Jerusalem, similar to that of -Achilles in the Iliad. Now the whole character of Achilles, -mental and corporeal, which ranks at least among the most -wonderful of all the works of Homer, is colossal and vast, but -is not unduly exaggerated. Although the son of Peleus evidently -was of great bodily size, yet Homer never calls him by the epithets -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μέγας</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πελώριος</span>, but reserves them for Ajax, because -they suggest a predominance of the animal over the incorporeal -element, which, in the case of Achilles, the Poet utterly -eschews. The character of Rinaldo as a warrior (and in no -other respect does he present any salient point) is, as will be -shown, exaggerated unduly, but yet does not leave the impression -of the vast or colossal, because the excess beyond common -nature is not in harmony with the rest of the delineation.</p> - -<p>Thus the strength of Achilles is the very highest; none can -use his spear. But Rinaldo, in the assault of the Tower, does -the work of a battering-ram. He takes up and carries a beam, -of which we are told,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_536" id="Page_536">[536]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nè così alte mai, nè così grosse</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Spiega l’ antenne sue ligura nave</span><a name="FNanchor_954_954" id="FNanchor_954_954"></a><a href="#Footnote_954_954" class="fnanchor">[954]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>With this he breaks the bars, and beats down the gates; and -the stanza proceeds:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Non l’ ariète di far più si vanti,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Non la bombarda, fulmine di morte</span><a name="FNanchor_955_955" id="FNanchor_955_955"></a><a href="#Footnote_955_955" class="fnanchor">[955]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>No such excess of muscular power as this is ascribed to -Achilles; and yet a much more lively impression of grandeur -in his martial character is left upon the mind of the reader; -the fact being that mere exaggeration freezes, while the adjusted -representation of greatness warms.</p> - -<p>The largest size assigned by Homer to any even of his mythological -personages who are in relations with man, and this -only in the Shades below, is in the case of Otus and Ephialtes. -At nine years old, when they were put to death, they were nine -cubits broad, nine fathoms (fifty-four feet) high<a name="FNanchor_956_956" id="FNanchor_956_956"></a><a href="#Footnote_956_956" class="fnanchor">[956]</a>. These were -they, who piled the mountains up to heaven. They are among -the few figures absolutely gigantic, which appear in Homer; -but they hover only in the distance through the mists of the Under-world, -and in describing even them he has adhered strictly -to the limits of what may be termed the gigantesque. Further -on, he describes Tityus as reaching over nine acres; but he -nowhere presents any such person to us in active motion, or in -any relation with man on earth. In Il. xxi. however, occurs a -passage which it is more easy to impugn; for Mars, who had -marched about among the Trojans and the Greeks in battle -without driving either friends or foes from their propriety by his -bulk, and had fought with Diomed in the plain of Troy on -terms favourable to that hero, when overthrown by Minerva in -the battle of the gods, covers seven acres (407). Although -Homer has skilfully avoided localizing the conflict, this may be -thought to wear the aspect of a poetical incongruity; because in -the Mars of the Theomachy we cannot wholly forget the Mars -of the plain. As a general rule, however, Homer does not -employ vast size, except in cases where it can suggest no com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_537" id="Page_537">[537]</a></span>parison -with objects of ordinary dimensions, and where, accordingly, -it in no way jars with our customary standard.</p> - -<p>But if there be incongruity in the dimensions of the prostrate -Mars of Homer, what shall we say to Tasso, who, carefully -setting out in detail that his infernal assembly is held -within the four walls of the palace of Pluto, describes the sub-terranean -monarch, when he sits in actual council, as exceeding -in mass, and that immeasurably, any mountain whatever?</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nè tanto scoglio in mar, nè rupe alpestra,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nè pur Calpe s’ innalza, o ’l magno Atlante,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Ch’ anzi lui non paresse un picciol colle</span><a name="FNanchor_957_957" id="FNanchor_957_957"></a><a href="#Footnote_957_957" class="fnanchor">[957]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Thus, where Homer is in excess, Tasso multiplies upon him by a -thousandfold. This is not grandeur, but extravagance; nor is -it vastness, but indistinctness, of which an impression is left -upon the mind. The passage is followed by a description of -the countenance and gorge of Pluto, which all readers must -remember, but which all readers must likewise wish they could -forget. In general it is curious to compare the very sparing -use which Homer has made of mere bulk as a poetical engine, -with the boundless redundance of it, not only even to nausea in -such writers as Fortiguerra, who vulgarize everything they -touch, but even in a patriarch of Italian romance like Bojardo.</p> - -<p>It would not, however, repay the trouble to be entailed by the -perusal, were I to draw out in detail a comparison between the -diction, taste, figures, and all other incidents of poetic handling, -in Tasso, and those of Homer. It is better to direct attention -to what more easily admits of being brought into juxtaposition—that -is, the general structure and movement of the poems, -and the manner in which the greater laws of the poetic art -are applied to the respective subjects.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hallam adopts an opinion of Voltaire, that in the choice -of his subject Tasso has been superior to Homer; and adds, -that ‘in the variety of occurrences, in the change of scenes -and images, and of the trains of sentiment connected with -them in the reader’s mind, we cannot place the Iliad on a level -with the Jerusalem;’ that, by unity of subject and place, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_538" id="Page_538">[538]</a></span> -poem of Tasso has a coherence and singleness not to be found -in the Æneid; and that, while we expect the victory of the -Christians, ‘we acknowledge the probability and adequacy of -the events that delay it<a name="FNanchor_958_958" id="FNanchor_958_958"></a><a href="#Footnote_958_958" class="fnanchor">[958]</a>.’</p> - -<p>Of the Italians themselves, some place the work of Tasso at -the very head of all Epic compositions: others maintain, that -it was surpassed by the Orlando Furioso. Tiraboschi, while -declining to weigh the poems against each other generally, yet -compares the poets, and gives the higher place to Ariosto<a name="FNanchor_959_959" id="FNanchor_959_959"></a><a href="#Footnote_959_959" class="fnanchor">[959]</a>. -Neither the agitated, struggling, and dependent life of Tasso, -nor the character of the time in which he lived, were favourable -to the attainment of the very summit of poetic excellence. -The freshness of the morning of Christian civilization in Italy -had worn away. The romantic poetry, which seemed so congenial -to that country, and which had attained to such high -perfection, had now run its course: it was rather an effort -against nature, than a movement in the line of it, when Tasso -wrought upon a subject which required him to bridle his country’s -freer Muse, and train her to historic grandeur and severity. -He has left us the undoubted work of a great mind, adorned -with abundant and, in some respects, extraordinary beauties; -yet many would own themselves not to have experienced from -the Jerusalem that peculiar sort of satisfaction, which any work -of simple tenour, if nearly approaching perfection in its kind, -even though that kind be somewhat below the epic, never fails -to impart to the mass of its readers.</p> - -<p>Granting it to be true, that the Siege of Jerusalem is a nobler -subject than the Wrath of Achilles, together with all that it -includes of the siege of Troy, yet neither is the Siege of Jerusalem, -with the high elements it comprehends, really the staple -of the subject matter of Tasso, nor is the Siege of Troy the -real subject of the poem of Homer. Tasso had evidently -studied with attention the Iliad as well as the Æneid; and he -has taken largely from, or worked largely after, both, but a -great deal more, as far as I have seen, from the former than -the latter. In which selection, doubtless, he chose well. The -copy of a copy is pretty sure to be a vulgar work. Without no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_539" id="Page_539">[539]</a></span>ticing -at present anything except what governs the main action, -it may be observed, that the Wrath of Achilles is reproduced in -the Offence, given and taken, of Rinaldo: and the relation of -the one to Godfrey is evidently suggested by that of the other -to Agamemnon.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Achilles the subject of the Iliad.</i></div> - -<p>It is needful here to return to a topic, which I have already -more lightly touched. We may reckon it among the chief distinctions -of Homer, that he has been able to make of the individual -man the broad basis of the most heroical among epic songs. -The weak thread of the Æneid is really sustained by something -that lies behind the figure of Æneas, namely, by its hanging -on the splendid fortunes of Rome; the Odyssey is toned more -nearly to the colour of a domestic painting; but in the Iliad, -the man Achilles is the power whose action propels, and whose -inaction stops, the world-wide conflict before Troy. The Poet -has accomplished this great feat by dint of powers, that have -given to the character of his hero on the one hand dimensions -absolutely colossal, and, on the other, the finest lines that miniature -itself could require.</p> - -<p>For efforts of such a range as this, after-poets had not the -necessary strength. They had not such command over the -high-born material, of which man is formed, as to make their -mode of treating it in one single figure the main stake, on -which the fortune of their entire works was to depend. Men -like Tasso sought and found a basis, less elevated indeed and -splendid, but equally solid, and far more accessible, in the great -events of history, or in the multitude of associations, alike noble -and familiar, which belonged to them. These, which with -Homer had been organically, and not mechanically alone, -grouped about the one great Humanity of his poem, now became -the central stem of the epic; and the properly and strictly -personal element, which had been primary, became no more -than accessory. But events are made for man, and not man -for events; and we can scarcely doubt that the transition from -the older epic, which gathered all its interests around the human -soul as a centre, to the newer, which exhibits the human -soul itself in a subordinate relation to external history or fortune, -has been a transition downwards. It may be said, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_540" id="Page_540">[540]</a></span> -Achilles is not the subject of the Iliad, in the same sense as Ulysses -of the Odyssey. It is at any rate true that the action of the -Odyssey is more directly related to the hero, than that of the -Iliad. And so precise is the working of Homer’s intellect in -all that appertains to poetical consistency, that a distinction of -shade, just proportioned to this difference, is perhaps perceptible -in the very <i>exordia</i> of the two poems, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μῆνιν ἄειδε Θεὰ</span>, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνδρα -μοι ἔννεπε, Μοῦσα, πολύτροπον</span>. The one seems to propose the -Wrath of the Man: the other the Man himself. But substantially -the proposition is questionable: Achilles is in effect, as -truly as Ulysses, the life and strength, the chief glory and -beauty, of his own poem.</p> - -<p>It might perhaps be doubted, whether even the Liberation of -Jerusalem was a finer subject for Christendom, than the siege -of Troy for the Greek race. For it is a mistake to suppose -that because the Redemption of mankind infinitely transcends -all other transactions, the poetry which is composed about it will -therefore be excellent in proportion. But at any rate this is -not the question. Homer’s subject is, indeed, the Titanic passion -of Achilles, and to this subject every Book of the Iliad, -some of them positively and some negatively, but every one of -them effectively, contributes; but is the Liberation of Jerusalem -the true subject of the poem of Tasso?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Subject of the <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerusalemme</span> more doubtful.</i></div> - -<p>The three first Cantos, with the ninth, the eleventh, and the -nineteenth, are the only ones, which are in strictness occupied -with the proper theme of the Jerusalem. The fifth, fifteenth, and -sixteenth, and large portions at the least of the other eleven, -are taken from the Siege, and are given to the truancy, or erratic -and separate adventures, of those who ought to have -carried it on; mainly of the two principal Christian warriors, -Rinaldo and Tancredi. In short, near a moiety of the work is -occupied, not with the Liberation of Jerusalem at all, but with -the events which draw away the champions pledged to it, upon -errands of a character the most incongruous with the grand -design.</p> - -<p>Will it be answered, that in the same manner Achilles disappears -from the eye of the spectator during one moiety of the -Iliad? The apparent parallel is wholly false. For the subject<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_541" id="Page_541">[541]</a></span> -of the Iliad is the passion of Achilles; and the whole movement -of the poem in his absence bears directly upon the enhancement -and elevation of that subject. It exhibits to us the successive -efforts of the Greeks, and of their most redoubted chieftains, one -by one, to make up for the seclusion of Achilles from the fighting -host. It was impossible for Homer more effectually to magnify -his hero, than by recounting fully these exploits and their -failure. In showing the perils and calamities brought about -by his absence, they deeply impress us with the grandeur and -efficacy of his presence, and prepare us for the reappearance of -something more than man: of something which, but for a most -skilful preparatory mechanism, we should probably have repelled -as an unnatural exaggeration. But the love-born vagaries of -the warriors of Tasso are mere impediments to the conquest of -Jerusalem, and have no effect whatever in enhancing the poetical -greatness of the achievement which was to crown the work, -while they seriously deduct from the power and effectiveness, -already in the case of Rinaldo but moderate, of the characters -assigned to the warriors themselves.</p> - -<p>It may therefore be true, as Mr. Hallam has said, that the -events in Tasso spring naturally one from another; but so may -a series of successive turnings off the line of a road we have -been travelling, when taken singly, produce no serious, and -even no sensible, deviation; yet their effect, when taken together, -may be wholly to change our direction, and prevent us -from making any way at all towards our point. Without doubt, -each incident of an epic poem ought to follow naturally in the -train of that which directly precedes it; but it is far more important -that it should bear a legitimate relation to the central -design, and should magnify, not detract from, the grandeur of -that on which the whole fabric principally depends.</p> - -<p>But there are surely many other objections to the mode, -which Tasso has adopted, of impeding and retarding the accomplishment -of his main action. Considering the nature of his -theme, and the solemnity of the sanctions under which the -Crusades were undertaken, although we have no right to ask -that passion and infirmity should be banished from the camp, -yet the wholesale entanglement of the very first warriors in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_542" id="Page_542">[542]</a></span> -love affairs, their rushing in a mass, with few exceptions besides -greyheads of the camp, upon the track of Armida, their -compelling Godfrey to allow the interests of this treacherous -beauty to interrupt the august purpose of their undertaking, -and then the very large proportion of the poem occupied in -unravelling the web thus tangled, form, to my view at least, a -bad poetical mixture of the intrusive with the Christian elements -of the design.</p> - -<p>Nor let it here be said, that even so our great Achilles stays -the progress of the Greeks towards triumph for the love of a -weak woman. We need not dwell on such distinctions as that -Briseis was a noble and worthy, but Armida an unworthy object -of attachment; that Achilles was but one, while Tasso -touches all, who by age were capable, with the same phrensy. -It is not even this worthy attachment alone, that acts upon -Achilles: that is not the main stress of the tempest which so -rends the strong heaving oak when he cries,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀλλά μοι οἰδάνεται κραδίη χόλῳ, ὁππότ’ ἐκείνων</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μνήσομαι, ὥς μ’ ἀσύφηλον ἐν Ἀργείοισιν ἔρεξεν</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀτρείδης, ὡσεί τιν’ ἀτίμητον μετανάστην</span><a name="FNanchor_960_960" id="FNanchor_960_960"></a><a href="#Footnote_960_960" class="fnanchor">[960]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In Achilles, baffled love is surmounted by the image of agonizing -pride, pierced through and through; and high over this -again towers his hatred of the meanness of Agamemnon, and -his sense of Justice, stung to the very inmost quick. Even supposing -the question to be open, whether Homer has mixed his -ingredients in due or in undue proportions, at all events there -is no essential conflict among them. But such a conflict becomes -visible and glaring, when a scope is assigned to the impulses and -sway of personal passion upon an army devoted to God and to -the highest aim, such as it is quite impossible to exemplify, nay -to suppose, in any army that has ever been banded together for -any even of the meaner ends of earthly policy.</p> - -<p>Again, although Tasso’s poem is eminently Christian in its -general intention, who does not feel that, instead of gathering -our main sympathies and interest by means of his accessory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_543" id="Page_543">[543]</a></span> -circumstances round his principal subject, he has too effectually -severed them from it, and has left it so bare and naked, that -his liberation of Jerusalem is after all very like a common capture -and sack; very like what, <i>mutatis mutandis</i>, the capture -of it by the Saracens must have been? We leave him with our -minds full of Tancredi and Clorinda, of Rinaldo and Armida, -of Gildippe and Odoardo; but the associations, which these -names suggest, connect themselves with any subject, rather than -with the liberation of the Holy Sepulchre; and the respected -Godfrey, with his plans, has, at most points of the poem, little -more share in our thoughts than the Jupiter of the Iliad, as he -feasts remotely grand on Olympus, or sits on Ida for the convenience -of a nearer view.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Relative places of Rinaldo and Tancredi.</i></div> - -<p>Besides these objections of irrelevant interpolation, incongruous -mixture, and divided interests, it may be observed that -the relative prominence of the heroes of Tasso is not clearly -pronounced. No one can doubt as to the question, who is the -first, and by far the first, figure of the Iliad. Achilles ever -haunts us, either in recollection or by sight; at any rate, he -stands among and above his brother chieftains, as Saul out-topped -by head and shoulders the people of Israel. But it is -not easy to say who is the hero or protagonist of the Jerusalem. -Although the interest which he attracts is inferior, yet -the virtues, intellect, and moral force of Godfrey stand high -and clear beyond those of all the other more prominent personages: -he bears himself so meekly in his high office, and yet -so perfectly and so exclusively exhibits the political spirit, that -by mere moral and official greatness he stands, in any general -view of the poem, an inconvenient neighbour and a dangerous -rival to the two other figures, for one of whom the title of hero -must have been designed. Taking, next, the yet more serious -question between Tancredi and Rinaldo, which of this pair is intended -to command the chief interest? Apparently, in Tasso’s -intention, it is Rinaldo; because without him the main action -stops, with him it proceeds. And yet the poet has assigned to -Tancredi the deadly single combat with, and the triumph so -powerfully described over, Argante, the only really great and -terrible champion on the Mahometan side. How would the Iliad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_544" id="Page_544">[544]</a></span> -stand, if Diomed had killed Hector, and had left to Achilles -only Æneas or Sarpedon?</p> - -<p>Tasso here seems himself to have felt an incongruity, and to -have sought to compensate Rinaldo in quantity for the (comparatively) -deficient quality of his conquests. In the final -assault he slays a multitude of the enemy like sheep<a name="FNanchor_961_961" id="FNanchor_961_961"></a><a href="#Footnote_961_961" class="fnanchor">[961]</a>; when, -as the poet says, in a manner surely far beneath his theme, the -taste of victory had excited in him the appetite of carnage<a name="FNanchor_962_962" id="FNanchor_962_962"></a><a href="#Footnote_962_962" class="fnanchor">[962]</a>.</p> - -<p>Nor is it only in the distribution of military glory, that Rinaldo -appears to have suffered for the advantage of Tancred. -On one occasion indeed, immediately after the death of Gernando, -Tasso has degraded Tancred for the advantage of -Rinaldo. For the poet makes this warrior plead, that the -offence of Rinaldo should be considered according to the -quality of him who committed it, and that there can be no -such thing as true justice without respect of persons:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Or ti sovvegna</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Saggio signor, chi sia Rinaldo, e quale;</span></div> - <div class="verse indent8"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">... non dee chi regna</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nel castigo con tutti esser uguale.</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Vario è l’ istesso error ne’ gradi vari;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">E sol l’ egualità giusta è co’ pari</span><a name="FNanchor_963_963" id="FNanchor_963_963"></a><a href="#Footnote_963_963" class="fnanchor">[963]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was acting on an opinion of this kind, in the case of the -Master of Stair after the Massacre of Glencoe, that left uneffaced -a deep stain on the memory of William III. and of Scotland. -Doubtless there have been periods when, even in Christian -countries, such sentiments have been professed as well as practised; -but can there have been any period when the utterance -of them from the mouth of a knight, who is exhibited to us as -a pattern, would not have caused a revulsion in the minds of -ordinary hearers or readers?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Woman-characters of Tasso.</i></div> - -<p>The Jerusalem is greatly overstocked with interesting -couples; so much so, that at times we almost seem to be reading -a Pastoral poem. Taken singly, the details of these love-stories -are worked up with infinite art and beauty, and are the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_545" id="Page_545">[545]</a></span> -most effective and successful portions of the whole Epic; but -the aggregate is so much too large, that it chills the general -tone, as well as weakens the broader effects. The excess of -quantity is, indeed, gross and glaring. Tasso has followed the -Christian Romancers in employing largely the idea of the -woman-warrior, practically unknown to Homer, introduced -with great spirit but no very elevated moral effect in Virgil, -carried by Bojardo and Ariosto to its perfection; and, without -doubt, a conception far more suitable to the standard of those -great poets of fancy, than to the lofty level of the Epic or the -higher drama, which deal with the greatest powers and the deepest -problems of our nature. Still, as to the manner of employing -it, we need not deny that high praise must be accorded -to the Clorinda of Tasso. It is indeed easy to criticize the religious -incidents of her death, and not easy to understand what -business she has after death in a tree of the enchanted wood; -or why, when that wood becomes the prey of the carpenters, -she is so unceremoniously overlooked in her uncomfortable -abode. But as to the main exhibition of the character, she -follows Bradamante without degeneracy: pure, upright, chivalrous, -thoroughly martial, and yet not grossly masculine. She -falls to the lot of Tancred. But besides the Sofronia, the Erminia, -and the Gildippe, in the second degree of prominence, -there is projected on the picture another person yet more conspicuous -than even Clorinda, namely, Armida; so different -that they can hardly be compared, and yet inconveniently -jarring from the similarity of their relations to the great -heroes of the poem. Both, too, are lovely; both figure in the -camp. Notwithstanding, however, the profusion of charms, -which Tasso has called into existence to set off the person and -the powers of Armida, nothing can be more unsatisfactory than -her character itself, except its place in the poem, and her particular -relation to Rinaldo. When every one else is ravished -by her overpowering attractions, he remains insensible: and -yet afterwards, with no poetical justification for the change, he -becomes desperately enamoured of her. Here we see that feebleness -in the conception and exhibition of character, which -depresses the flight of Tasso, which excludes him from a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_546" id="Page_546">[546]</a></span> -place in the class, quite as open to poets as to philosophers, the -class of the greatest masters of thought and of human nature.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Armida of Tasso.</i></div> - -<p>We become acquainted with Armida, the beautiful enchantress, -first in the guise of a forlorn damsel, who implores succour -from the Christian heroes; and this is perhaps the most -successful portion of the <i>rôle</i> assigned to her. Then she appears -as the Circe of her own gardens: then she is a Dido without -an Æneas, for the escape of Rinaldo from the disgraceful servitude -into which she had inveigled him bears no resemblance -to the fond and deep passion of the Carthaginian queen, which -grew out of an honourable hospitality afforded to the Trojans -in distress. With a disagreeable amount of likeness in detail, -the copy still misses the original, and loses all that force and -majesty of intense passion to which here, and here alone, Virgil -has been enabled to ascend. Then instead of that tragic end -of Dido, in which, though with an attitude somewhat theatrical, -softness and fierceness are so wonderfully blended, so that she -does not forfeit sympathy even in her keenest longings for revenge, -Armida has recourse to an expedient which is wholly -debased and vulgar. She simply offers herself for sale, promising -to be the prize of any warrior of the Egyptian camp, -who shall execute her vengeance on Rinaldo for the offence of -having escaped out of her toils.</p> - -<p>Nor have we yet done with the doublings of her tortuous -path. She sees Rinaldo pass her in the battle; and, not without -infinite doubting, shoots an arrow at him. It is perhaps -difficult to define in language what it is, that constitutes the -difference between the mental struggles of genuine passion, -and mere incongruous vacillation. We see the former in Dido; -and one sign of it is a certain progression. Where the law of -nature is followed, perpetual fluctuation is not allowed; by degrees, -though they may be slow and many, the mind is worked -up to a strong resolve, where it abides: its agitation and seeming -reflux is but the receding wave of the advancing tide; and -when once a strong purpose is full-formed after struggle in a -truly powerful nature, whether of man or woman, it must not -be changed. Now this is what we miss in Armida. She is ever -playing at backwards and forwards. Thrice she draws the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_547" id="Page_547">[547]</a></span> -bow, thrice she relaxes it: at last she discharges the arrow, -but with it a wish that it may miss:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Lo stral volò; ma con lo strale un voto</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Subito uscì, che vada il colpo a voto</span><a name="FNanchor_964_964" id="FNanchor_964_964"></a><a href="#Footnote_964_964" class="fnanchor">[964]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Not unnaturally, this unsatisfactory passage leads us to one of -the worst of all the provoking conceits that disfigure from time -to time the beautiful pages of this poem:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Tanto poteva in lei, benchè perdente,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">(Or che potria vittorioso?) amore</span><a name="FNanchor_965_965" id="FNanchor_965_965"></a><a href="#Footnote_965_965" class="fnanchor">[965]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Yet, after all this, revenge again gets the upper hand, and her -eye follows the arrow with avidity, hoping it may strike. She -then repeats the shot again and again, and while doing it is -again herself shot in return by love:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">E mentre ella saetta, Amor lei piaga</span><a name="FNanchor_966_966" id="FNanchor_966_966"></a><a href="#Footnote_966_966" class="fnanchor">[966]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again the same alternation is reiterated; but her champions -fail. She flies. She resumes the part of Dido; apostrophizes -her own weapons in a speech of near thirty lines, entreating -them to despatch her. Rinaldo then arrests her arm; and yet -once more, in stanzas replete with beauty of diction, we have -the same unsatisfactory and indecisive mixture of ill-assorted -emotions, without the strength either of harmony or of contrast, -founded on no natural law, connected by no moral or -mental tie, ordered to no end or consummation. However, -he vows himself her adorer, and she gives herself up to his -disposal:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Ecco l’ ancella tua; d’ essa a tuo senno</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Dispon, gli disse; e le fia legge il cenno</span><a name="FNanchor_967_967" id="FNanchor_967_967"></a><a href="#Footnote_967_967" class="fnanchor">[967]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And so we leave them. But unhappily we cannot, in leaving -them, forget that she is a Mahometan and a sorceress; that -her frauds have been the great scandal of the army, and the -main obstacle to the completion of its design; that she has -never throughout the whole poem exhibited a single quality -containing in it the elements of just moral attraction; and that -this triumph of mere corporeal form, without one solitary note<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_548" id="Page_548">[548]</a></span> -of inward loveliness, is achieved over the greatest of the warriors -of Christ, when engaged, under the immediate and special direction -of the Almighty, in the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre -from infidel dominion. With all these circumstances before us, -it must be admitted that a more lame and unsatisfactory contribution -to the climax of a great Christian poem could hardly -have been contrived. Nor is the impression much amended by -the dedication of the eight last stanzas of the work to the completion -of the victory by Godfrey. A reader may, on the contrary, -well feel perturbed by the sharpness of the transition, -and by the air of unconsciousness with which, in gathering up -the threads of the action, Tasso has brought into close neighbourhood -matters so heterogeneous, that they form a kind of -moral chaos. And the observation applies to the close of the -poem, which may well have accompanied it throughout its -course; that the sympathies of the reader are not evoked and -managed with due, or with any, reference to the greatness and -nobleness of the objects, but, on the contrary, are allured into -the wrong quarter. Homer has carefully contrived, in the case -of Paris, that even his extraordinary personal attractions shall -do nothing to give him a hold upon our favour, while he has -given his warmest sympathies to the beauty of the innocent, -though comparatively insignificant, Euphorbus<a name="FNanchor_968_968" id="FNanchor_968_968"></a><a href="#Footnote_968_968" class="fnanchor">[968]</a>. How tame -and flat, on the contrary, has Tasso made the stainless Erminia, -whom indeed he altogether forgets before the poem -closes; and what efforts of art has he not used to gather admiring -interest around the character and fate of the heartless, -even when enamoured, Armida. Nay, more, with some brilliant -exceptions, especially that noble one of the first view of Jerusalem, -how cold and slack, how uninteresting to the reader, is -the movement of the main action of the poem, compared with -that of the love-stories which invade and engross so inordinate -a portion of the ground. We seem to feel that, after all, the -Siege of Jerusalem is not the principal business in hand; it is -the task which must somehow or other be got through, but it is -not the life and pulse, the light and joy of the poem. As the -Siege of Troy was the instrument of Homer, to enable him to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_549" id="Page_549">[549]</a></span> -develop his Achilles, so the much higher subject of the Crusade -is the tool of Tasso to enable him to exhibit his workmanship, -chiefly in connection with love-stories, upon very inferior persons -and performances. The relative values of the setting and the -jewel are totally different in the two cases.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The affront of Gernando.</i></div> - -<p>Besides the first great hindrance to the prosecution of the -siege in the seductive power of Armida when she appears in -the camp, there is a second, namely, the slaughter of Gernando -by Rinaldo, upon a personal affront. It has here been objected -to the first, that the effect assigned to it is out of proportion to -all example and to all likelihood, though it may be suitable to -the passionate susceptibilities of Tasso’s individual mind; and -that this disproportion jars peculiarly from the more than usual -elevation of the subject. Is the second obstacle more happily -conceived?</p> - -<p>Rinaldo, in the Fifth Canto, unlike his companions, has -proved impregnable to the assaults of Armida’s mingled beauty -and art:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Ma perch’ a lui colpi d’ amor più lenti</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Non hanno il petto oltra la scorza inciso,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nè molto impaziente è di rivale,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nè la donzella di seguir gli cale</span><a name="FNanchor_969_969" id="FNanchor_969_969"></a><a href="#Footnote_969_969" class="fnanchor">[969]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He rather aspires to succeed to the fallen Dudone in the immediate -command of the forces. Yet even with respect to this, -his ambition purports to be under the guidance of high principle:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">I gradi primi</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Più meritar che conseguir desio</span><a name="FNanchor_970_970" id="FNanchor_970_970"></a><a href="#Footnote_970_970" class="fnanchor">[970]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Presently the Norwegian Prince Gernando, moved by jealousy, -insults him; on which Rinaldo there and then gives -him the lie, and slays him.</p> - -<p>It is hardly possible to measure the inferiority of this combination, -as respects poetic art and effect, to the scene of the -First Book of the Iliad, with which it must naturally be compared: -where Achilles is stung, and stung at once in every -fibre of his deep, proud, and impassioned nature, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_550" id="Page_550">[550]</a></span> -mingled meanness and tyranny of Agamemnon. The affront -in Homer is so contrived that it shall contain all the highest -elements of provocation: avarice, tyranny, injustice, ingratitude, -on the one side are made to exacerbate the wounds inflicted -by public degradation, and by the sudden loss of a beloved -object, on the other. But the insult of Gernando to Rinaldo is -an every-day insult of the streets: yet an American duellist -could not have been more summary in his proceedings, than is -the great Christian champion. The brutal provocation instantly -breaks down both the piety and the moral firmness of -Rinaldo. It is not so with Achilles. In him there is a conscious -force of self-command, which absolutely, though not relatively -to his passion, is even beyond that of other men; and -though unequal, indeed, yet is all but not unequal to controlling -that tempestuous flood of wrath. Nothing can be grander than -the picture of this his first great mental convulsion. We must -quote the lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὣς φάτο· Πηλείωνι δ’ ἄχος γένετ’, ἐν δέ οἱ ἦτορ</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">στήθεσσιν λασίοισι διάνδιχα μερμήριξεν,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἢ ὅγε φάσγανον ὀξὺ ἐρυσσάμενος παρὰ μηροῦ</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τοὺς μὲν ἀναστήσειεν, ὁ δ’ Ἀτρείδην ἐναρίζοι,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠὲ χόλον παύσειεν, ἐρητύσειέ τε θυμόν</span><a name="FNanchor_971_971" id="FNanchor_971_971"></a><a href="#Footnote_971_971" class="fnanchor">[971]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then, while the strong current eddies to and fro within him, -and while his fingers, playing instinctively on the handle of his -sword, cause its blade to be seen, comes the warning vision of -Pallas to him, and to him alone. This admonition restores the -disturbed balance of his mind; and, his inward wound assuaged -with the promise of a future revenge, to be wrought -out for him by the self-condemning hands of the inflicters and -abettors of the wrong, he moodily foregoes the reckoning of -blood.</p> - -<p>Such is the solid, the Cyclopian structure of the fabric, into -which Homer has built his characters. Had the hero of Tasso -indeed been endowed with a sublimity of passion beyond or -like that of Achilles, we might not have been entitled to call -him strictly to account for the slaughter of Gernando. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_551" id="Page_551">[551]</a></span> -the truth is, that he is a somewhat jejune and feeble character; -and his offence in this instance is not from the excess of the -impelling, but from the defect, or rather the utter absence, of -the restraining power.</p> - -<p>Gioberti, in a posthumous work<a name="FNanchor_972_972" id="FNanchor_972_972"></a><a href="#Footnote_972_972" class="fnanchor">[972]</a>, remarks that the heroes of -Paganism are more effective than those of Christianity, because -the standard by which they are measured is lower, the idea -imperfect instead of perfect. There is, I believe, much both of -truth and of depth in this observation. It is no more than -justice that Tasso should have the benefit of it, which is not -inconsiderable.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Differing modes of describing personages.</i></div> - -<p>Such, however, as his heroes are, he takes the precaution to -describe them in outline at a very early stage indeed of his -proceedings, namely, in the stanzas 8-10 of the First Canto. -He here places before us Godfrey, Baldwin, Tancred, Boemondo, -and Rinaldo; and he resumes from time to time the -business of describing them. Bojardo and Ariosto avoid this; -but it is probably because they were dealing with characters of -well-known type, already familiar to their audience. Homer, -who drew so much more powerfully, had more to describe than -any of them. And yet it may be said he never describes characters -at all, with the very slight exceptions of Nestor, in a -few words, and Thersites with somewhat more detail: the -latter, it is evident, because he wanted to concentrate contempt -and disgust upon his qualities, for exhibiting which in action -he could not afford to such a wretch any extended space: the -former, perhaps because he has thought it better for effect to -abstain from marking him through the poem by distinctive -epithets, and could produce a certain roundness of figure, -highly suitable to the personage, in this way with more convenience. -But, in general, Homer’s characters are described by -their actions only, with the aid of choice and characteristic -epithets, and here and there of some small but pointed allusion, -not from themselves nor from the Poet, but in the -speeches of others. Thus he grapples with the full scale of -the demands of the dramatic art. Others could not follow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_552" id="Page_552">[552]</a></span> -him. We must not blame Tasso for a proceeding quite necessary -by way of clue to his poem; rather, indeed, we should -praise the ingenious manner in which he has effected his purpose, -by a survey which the Almighty takes of the Christian -camp; a proceeding alike conducive to the religious character -of his poem, not always so well cared for, and to the supply of -the first necessities of his readers.</p> - -<p>In the details of his battles, Tasso is a great and skilful describer. -Perhaps in this point alone, out of so many, he may -be termed superior to Homer. At least we may be disposed to -think he has nothing so unsatisfactory under this head as the -death of Patroclus. It may be another question how far he is -indebted for instruction in this department to his great countrymen, -especially Ariosto, and also whether he has anywhere -equalled the magnificent account of that terrible contest with -Rodomonte, which, in the Furioso, sums up Ruggiero’s triumphs.</p> - -<p>As nearly all the greater situations and combinations of the -<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerusalemme</span>, and its general framework, have been suggested -by the ancients, so the minor imitations are too numerous for -notice. Many of Tasso’s similes are extremely beautiful and -finished; and he has followed Homer in employing them to -relieve the narrative of battle; but he has not observed the -same judicious parsimony in other parts of his poem; he has -apparently not perceived, certainly not followed, the general -rules of Homer in the distribution of this ornament, and the -result has been that they produce a somewhat cloying effect.</p> - -<p>Like Virgil, he has been betrayed into imitating Homer in -certain cases, where the whole reason of the case was changed: -as, for instance, in the Invocation before the Catalogue, and in -the wish expressed for multiplied organs of speech. To Homer, -a reciting poet, the Catalogue was a great effort of memory, -and it therefore justified the special application to the Muse: -to Tasso it must have been one of the easier parts of his performance. -As respects the second point, what can be more -reasonable in the case of an unwritten composition? what less -so, when the poet works with pen and ink? Nor is the case -much mended by supposing that Tasso had in mind his recita<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_553" id="Page_553">[553]</a></span>tions, -unless the recitation had been, not the accident, but the -rule, so that the poem would itself, in the ordinary course of -thought, be conceived of as associated with the act of reciting.</p> - -<p>Tasso seems, however, to have fallen into a more serious -error in introducing a Second Catalogue into his poem. The -first may be defended by the same reasoning, which so amply -warrants that of Homer. But what interest could Christendom -or Italy feel in the detailed muster-roll of the Egyptian -army?</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Return of Rinaldo.</i></div> - -<p>If in the Jerusalem the Wrath is beneath the standard of -the Iliad, so is the Return. On the side of Rinaldo, indeed, it -is most just and right, that he should be extricated from the -entanglements of the seductive Armida: but, on the side of -Godfrey, there is the same sorry management of all the moral -elements of the case. In Homer, Achilles was justly and most -deeply offended: on every principle known to the creed of -Paganism, or to Greek life and experience, he justly resented -the offence: the utmost that can be imputed to him is a decided -excess in the indulgence of a thoroughly righteous feeling: and -this was terribly expiated by the bloody death of that friend, -who was to him as a second self. But the gross offence of Agamemnon -is dealt with according to the most righteous rules; -and he is compelled by word and gift to appease the man whom -he had robbed, insulted, and striven to degrade. While he is -brought both to restitution and to apology, how different is the -arrangement of Tasso’s poem! Rinaldo was wronged by Gernando: -but Godfrey had done no more than his duty: he was -the minister of public justice, of lawful authority, and of military -discipline: in respect to him, and likewise in respect to -the army, Rinaldo was the offender, Godfrey and public right -were only the sufferers; yet Godfrey and public right give way -under the pressure of adversity, and the offender comes back -in a kind of triumph.</p> - -<p>If it has been found possible in the case of Virgil to institute -a more minute comparison with Homer, this cannot be attempted -in the case of Tasso, for his work hardly admits of -juxta-positions in detail. We have already noticed the abundant -stock of real analogies between the subject of the Trojan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_554" id="Page_554">[554]</a></span> -expedition, and that of the Crusades. Tasso himself, in his -anxiety to follow Homer, even added to them, by feigning a -centralization of the Christian enterprise, which I fear did not -really exist. But to imitate is one thing, to be like is another; -and it still remains hard really to compare the poems, far -harder the poets. In order to see this clearly, let us ascend a -height, and view the scene which lies before us. How vast a -deluge of time and of events has swept away the very world -in which Homer lived, and the worlds that succeeded his: the -place of nativity is changed, the great gulf of time is stretched -between, the language is another, the religion new, all the -chains of association have been taken to pieces and re-forged, -all the old chords of feeling are now mute, and others that give -forth a different music are strung in their stead. And there is -also, it must be confessed, a great and sharp descent from the -stature of Homer, as a creative poet, to that of Tasso. Yet he -too is a classic of Italy, and a classic of the world; and if for a -moment we feel it a disparagement to his country that she -suffers in this one comparison, let her soothe her ruffled recollection -by the consciousness, that though Tasso has not become -a rival to Homer, yet he shares this failure with every -epic writer of every land. On the other hand, no modern poet, -dealing with similar subject-matter, has been equal to Tasso. -None has erected, upon similar foundations to his, a fabric so -lofty and so durable, so rich in beauty and in grace: so well -entitled, if not to vie with the very greatest achievement of the -ages that went before him, at least to challenge or to win the -admiration of those generations that have succeeded. But his defeat -is, after all, his greatest victory. To lose the match against -Homer is a higher prize than to win it from his other competitors. -Few indeed are the sons of genius, and elect among -the elect, who can be brought into comparison with that sire -and king of verse; and Tasso, we are persuaded, would bear -against none a grudge for thus far, in his own words, limiting -his honours:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent16"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">e ciò fia sommo onore;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Questi già con Gernando in gara venne</span><a name="FNanchor_973_973" id="FNanchor_973_973"></a><a href="#Footnote_973_973" class="fnanchor">[973]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_555" id="Page_555">[555]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SECTION VI.<br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>Some principal Homeric characters in Troy. -Hector: Helen: Paris.</i></span></h3> - -<p>To one only among the countless millions of human beings -has it been given to draw characters, by the strength of his -own individual hand, in lines of such force and vigour, that they -have become, from his day to our own, the common inheritance -of civilized man. That one is Homer. Ever since his time, -besides finding his way into the usually impenetrable East, he -has provided literary capital and available stock in trade for -reciters and hearers, for authors and readers of all times and -of all places within the limits of the Western world;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Adjice Mæoniden, a quo, ceu fonte perenni,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Vatum Pieriis ora rigantur aquis.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Like the sun, which furnishes with its light the close courts -and alleys of London, while himself unseen by their inhabitants, -Homer has supplied with the illumination of his ideas millions -of minds that were never brought into direct contact with his -works, and even millions more, that have hardly been aware of -his existence. As the full flow of his genius has opened itself out -into ten thousand irrigating channels by successive subdivision, -there can be no cause for wonder, if some of them have not -preserved the pellucid clearness of the stream. Like blood -from the great artery of the heart of man, as it returns through -innumerable veins, it is gradually darkened in its flow. The -very universality of the tradition has multiplied the causes of -corruption. That which, as to documents, is a guarantee, because -their errors correct one another, as to ideas is a new -source of danger, because every thing depends upon constant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_556" id="Page_556">[556]</a></span> -reference to the finer touches of an original, which has escaped -from view. And this universality is his alone. An Englishman -may pardonably think that his great rival in the portraiture -of character is Shakespeare—a Briton may even go -further, and challenge, on behalf of Sir Walter Scott, a place -in this princely choir, second to no other person but these. -Yet the fame of Hamlet, Othello, Lady Macbeth, or Falstaff, -and much more that of Varney, or Ravenswood, or Caleb Balderston, -or Meg Merrilies, has not yet come, and may never -come, to be a world-wide fame. On the other hand, that distinction -has long been inalienably secured to every character -of the first class, who appears in the Homeric poems. He has -conferred upon them a deathless inheritance.</p> - -<p>But, through waywardness and infirmity, mankind corrupts -that with which it sympathizes, and undermines what it obeys. -The same law of waste and decomposition, which from day -to day corrodes the works of nature, operates also in divers -manners and degrees upon the creations of mind. As the portraitures -of individual character, to be found in the works of the -great masters of the imaginative faculty, are among the very -highest of these creations, so, because they are the greatest, -they are the most difficult to render into other forms, and to -transfuse through new media. Among the ancient sculptures -it is easier to find a good Faun than a good Venus, while again -those works, which embody the very highest ideals, are not -only rare, but are in most instances unique. In like manner the -Punch and the Harlequin, the broad characters of primitive -spectacle and farce, readily become national, and are transmitted, -spontaneously as it were, through ages without substantial -change; but the finer and nobler representations of -man, requiring greater effort, and a different order of mind -to comprehend, as well as to project them, rapidly degenerate -in the very points on which their peculiar excellence -depends.</p> - -<p>Other causes, besides mental impotence in the recipient, -contribute towards this result. One main agent is, the inability -or the disinclination of mankind to go back to originals. For -the mass, a modernizing process is commonly in demand, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_557" id="Page_557">[557]</a></span> -readily furnished, and is itself again and again varied from age -to age. It is always easier to derive from what is itself derivative, -than to go up to the fountain-head. Into the business -of every profession, including (now more than ever) that of -letters, necessity drives her adamantine clamps: and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βάναυσον</span> -and the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φορτικὸν</span>, or slang and the clap-trap, maintain -a too successful struggle to depress its higher and more genial -aims.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Causes of injury to Homeric characters.</i></div> - -<p>It is not difficult to point out reasons why the characters of -Homer should have been peculiarly exposed to injury from the -lapse of time. Most of all from two causes; because they were -of such extraordinary and refined merit, and because of the -form in which they were conveyed. Not only did they bear -the stamp that the highest genius alone could affix, but nothing -less than care, sympathy, and manly effort, could enable men to -comprehend them. For they were not exhibited in the set forms -of descriptive passages, which might be learnt by rote, but they -were wrought out in the fine, as well as deep and strong lines of -life and action; and none of them could be defined in terms, -until they had first been profoundly felt within. We were to -become acquainted with them as friends, by living with them -through their varied fortunes; not as strangers, by some letter -of introduction, that sets forth their birth, parentage, calling, -and qualifications. For earnest and hearty attention they provided -the richest possible reward; by the careless they were to -be enjoyed indeed, but scarcely to be apprehended. To the -eyes of such men there is little or nothing to discriminate, as -between Agamemnon, Ajax, Diomed, Menelaus, and Patroclus; -and if Nestor is a good deal older, Ulysses a good deal more -cunning, and Achilles even more valiant than the rest, a single -touch disposes of these differences, and enables us to reduce all -the eight nearly to a common type. A prior examination of -particular instances will best prepare us for weighing the force -of those other causes, besides the weakness of human nature, -and the excellence of the works in the general sense of the words, -that contributed to depress and deface the Homeric characters.</p> - -<p>In the present Section, then, I propose to invite attention to -a few Homeric characters, as they stand in the poems, which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_558" id="Page_558">[558]</a></span> -as far as I am able to judge, stand in need as yet of further -elucidation.</p> - -<p>Perhaps there is no one particular in which Colonel Mure -has rendered such important service to the modern Homeridæ, -as in his account of the Homeric characters. In general, I -shall best discharge my duty by simply referring the reader to -his pages. I venture, however, to think, that while the paramount -subject of the great Grecian characters is incomparably -handled by him throughout, some exception may be taken to -his representation of a part of the Trojan personages; of Hector, -for example, and more particularly (if she may be placed in this -class) of Helen. At least, I presume to regard some of them as -fairly capable of being presented in another light, and I shall -proceed at once to make the attempt with Hector.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Relation of Orlando to Hector.</i></div> - -<p>I. ‘In the character of this hero,’ says Mure, ‘good and -evil are so curiously blended that it is hard to say which element -predominates<a name="FNanchor_974_974" id="FNanchor_974_974"></a><a href="#Footnote_974_974" class="fnanchor">[974]</a>.’ Is there not a different view of the composition -of qualities, which Mure has thus placed in equipoise?</p> - -<p>It is indeed eminently true, as in the same place he proceeds -to observe, that in order to maintain what may be called the -conventional balance, or stage-equality, which was necessary in -order to give interest to his poem, Homer has magnified the -prowess of Hector, in general terms, as of the highest transcendental -order: but that in actual achievement he is greatly -surpassed by the leading Greek heroes. Indeed, in many places -of the Iliad it even seems questionable, whether Hector is a -hero at all.</p> - -<p>How successful Homer’s art has been in thus paying off the -Trojan champion with generalities, while he nevertheless reserved -the true palm of military virtue to his own countrymen, -we may, perhaps, best judge from considering the effect which -the picture has had upon the poets of Italy, and upon European -opinion at large, in more recent times. With the former, the -name of Hector seems to be the prime type of the heroic character. -Thus Tasso celebrates—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Il buon Foresto, dell’ Italia Ettorre</span><a name="FNanchor_975_975" id="FNanchor_975_975"></a><a href="#Footnote_975_975" class="fnanchor">[975]</a>.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_559" id="Page_559">[559]</a></span></p> - -<p>And further. Beyond the Alps, Orlando was the prime warrior -or protagonist, as well as the finest character, of the mediæval -romance, until it was modified by Ariosto, whose courtly object -it was to elevate Ruggiero above him. But with the poets -who followed Ariosto, Ruggiero seems to have been put by as -an interpolation, and Orlando to have resumed his paramount -place. Now the character of Orlando is plainly modelled upon -the traditional idea of Hector, with the Christian element attached -to and pervading it. That Hector was thus chosen, in -preference to Achilles or any Greek hero, may be owing, -among other causes, to these. First, that the Roman poets, -Virgil especially, had taught Italians to look to Troy as the -cradle of their grandeur. Secondly, that the character of Hector, -from the large infusion into it of moral and of passive ingredients, -was better fitted for coalescing with the Christian -ideas. And thirdly, that, as the part assigned to Italian -patriotism in the middle ages was commonly defensive, in this -point also Hector offered a more appropriate model. There is -more, however, to observe; for it may be thought that, among -the Trojans, Æneas would have offered a better groundwork -for Italian poets. But here we may remark how the genuine -and masculine birth outlives the spurious. The natural Hector -of Homer thrust aside the pale and sickly automaton of the -Æneid, even in Italy, its adopted country. The latter was so -artificial and effete, that it would not even bear copying: the -former had a foundation in truth, upon which the structure of -exaggeration could be reared. Thus Hector became, after -two thousand years, the central power of a new and splendid -literature.</p> - -<p>But when we turn back to the verse of Homer, and put together -the evidence in the case piece by piece, surprise is -excited by the contrast between the pretensions of Hector, -having its basis in general descriptions and in the later tradition, -on the one side, and on the other the actual performances, in -the Iliad itself, of the Trojan champion. First, there is Achilles, -his known superior; of whom, as a warrior, he comes within -no measurable distance. But besides this, he suffers virtual -defeat at the hands, once of Diomed, and twice of Ajax;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_560" id="Page_560">[560]</a></span> -glaringly as to the former, and not doubtfully as to the latter: -for though the first battle is interrupted, and is taken for a -drawn one, yet Ajax has had the best of it at every point, and, -while the Trojans are too happy upon the mere escape of his opponent -without bodily harm, Homer carries him to the tent of -Agamemnon rejoicing in his victory (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κεχαρηότα νίκῃ</span><a name="FNanchor_976_976" id="FNanchor_976_976"></a><a href="#Footnote_976_976" class="fnanchor">[976]</a>). It is yet -more worthy of note, that Hector is never permitted in actual -fight to overcome any one considerable Greek. In the case of -Patroclus, the Poet has even laid this fact much too barely -open; for he makes Hector little, if anything, more than the -mere executioner of death upon an unarmed man. Menelaus, -who stood in what we may call the third rank of Grecian -heroes, is indeed, on one occasion, withdrawn from conflict -with him, as being too greatly inferior to risk the fight; but -the conflict for the body of Patroclus<a name="FNanchor_977_977" id="FNanchor_977_977"></a><a href="#Footnote_977_977" class="fnanchor">[977]</a> is so contrived as to -show even this prince holding the field with success in despite -of the Trojan chief; and, during the absence of Achilles -and Patroclus from the contest, no less than nine other Greek -warriors offer themselves to meet him in single combat<a name="FNanchor_978_978" id="FNanchor_978_978"></a><a href="#Footnote_978_978" class="fnanchor">[978]</a>.</p> - -<p>The greatest exploit of Hector, in the whole Iliad, is the -bursting open of the gates of the Greek rampart<a name="FNanchor_979_979" id="FNanchor_979_979"></a><a href="#Footnote_979_979" class="fnanchor">[979]</a>. But if we -compare this with the feat of Sarpedon, who had just before -opened a breach by tearing down the battlement<a name="FNanchor_980_980" id="FNanchor_980_980"></a><a href="#Footnote_980_980" class="fnanchor">[980]</a>, we must -give a decided preference to the Lycian hero; for he performs -his achievement in the teeth of Ajax and Teucer, who are on -the spot; while there is not a single Greek commander present -when Hector breaks through the gates. The comparative -feebleness of Hector’s military character is, however, most -pointedly shown in the Eleventh Book, when Jupiter determines -to give effect to the decision that honour shall be done -to him<a name="FNanchor_981_981" id="FNanchor_981_981"></a><a href="#Footnote_981_981" class="fnanchor">[981]</a>. In the first place, he receives a friendly warning to -keep out of the way as long as Agamemnon remains on the -field. He accordingly enters the battle only when Agamemnon -has retired; but he is forthwith driven out of it by Dio<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_561" id="Page_561">[561]</a></span>med<a name="FNanchor_982_982" id="FNanchor_982_982"></a><a href="#Footnote_982_982" class="fnanchor">[982]</a>. -When he again returns to it, the Greeks under -Machaon baffle all his efforts, until that very secondary chieftain -has been disabled by an arrow from the bow of Paris<a name="FNanchor_983_983" id="FNanchor_983_983"></a><a href="#Footnote_983_983" class="fnanchor">[983]</a>. -And according to all human appearances, the Trojans must -have been defeated and shut up in the city by the Greeks even -without Achilles, such was the superiority of Achæan arms, had -not Homer called in the inferior agency of stones and arrows -to wound three of the four chief remaining Grecian warriors, -namely Diomed, Agamemnon, and Ulysses; besides Eurypylus -and Machaon<a name="FNanchor_984_984" id="FNanchor_984_984"></a><a href="#Footnote_984_984" class="fnanchor">[984]</a>.</p> - -<p>The only occasion when Hector comes out as a really great -and gallant warrior is that one when he is certain to be, -and is accordingly, worsted by the overpowering might and -divine arms of Achilles. For here Homer could safely give -him ample scope without endangering or obscuring the fame -of that hero, to whom, with art never surpassed, he has given -an immeasurable, but yet not a forced or unnatural, preeminence.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Hector second-rate as a hero.</i></div> - -<p>The place of Hector, then, as a fighting hero, is certainly no -more than second-rate; but so far, I venture to think, is Homer -from having almost equally weighted in his character the scales -of good and evil respectively, that, with the exception of his -boastfulness, it is hard to fasten on him so much as a single -fault. This boastfulness, and the disproportion between pretension -and performance, is not altogether confined to him, but -extends in some measure to the other Trojan warriors, except -Sarpedon; for example, to Polydamas, Æneas, and Paris. Some -of the best Greeks too, particularly Diomed, are touched with -it<a name="FNanchor_985_985" id="FNanchor_985_985"></a><a href="#Footnote_985_985" class="fnanchor">[985]</a>. And perhaps, in our more elaborated and artificial condition -of society, we are not quite fair judges how far this practice, -which may seem to stand in sharp contrast with the prevailing -modesty of the Homeric heroes, may have been with them not -a substitute for, but a kind of embellishment and auxiliary to, -their strength of soul and hand. With us it is justly suspected -of implying a tendency to fall short in performance: with -them it may have appertained to that straightforwardness in -the expression of inward emotions, which made them (for ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_562" id="Page_562">[562]</a></span>ample) -weep so freely whenever the chord of sorrow was touched -within them.</p> - -<p>So conspicuous is this quality, says Mure, that the name of -the Trojan chief is to this day synonymous in our own tongue -with ‘bluster’ or ‘swagger<a name="FNanchor_986_986" id="FNanchor_986_986"></a><a href="#Footnote_986_986" class="fnanchor">[986]</a>.’ But it is remarkable that the -very same thing has happened in the case of the word ‘rodomontade,’ -which is derived from Rodomonte, the most powerful, -next to Ruggiero, of all the heroes of the Furioso. This -circumstance seems to make probable, what, without it, would -be only possible, namely, that we misconstrue the phrases; -and that, according to the true meaning, a rodomontader is -a man passing himself off for a Rodomonte: and one who -hectors is a man falsely pretending to be a Hector.</p> - -<p>Another very high authority, Lord Grenville, intimately -acquainted with the poems of Homer, supplies a marked -example of the blinding force of literary traditions. For in his -‘Nugæ Metricæ<a name="FNanchor_987_987" id="FNanchor_987_987"></a><a href="#Footnote_987_987" class="fnanchor">[987]</a>,’ he says: ‘A hectoring fellow is ... strangely -distorted in its use to express a meaning almost the opposite of -its original.’ And he adds in a note: ‘The Hector of Homer -unites, we know,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">The mildest manners with the bravest mind.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The disposition of the Trojan chief to brag is, however, the -more offensive, because it vents itself so much in the first -person singular; because in the case of Patroclus it seems to -be associated with an act at least unmanly; and because upon -many occasions Hector shows even more than a prudential -regard to his personal safety.</p> - -<p>What is more strange is, that his ordinary strain of boasting -is chequered with passages of more genuine modesty and -humility than are to be found in the speech of any other -chieftain on either side. As for example, when he acknowledges -his marked inferiority to Achilles;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶδα δ’ ὅτι σὺ μὲν ἐσθλὸς, ἐγὼ δὲ σέθεν πολὺ χείρων</span><a name="FNanchor_988_988" id="FNanchor_988_988"></a><a href="#Footnote_988_988" class="fnanchor">[988]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But above all, in the incomparable verse of his prayer over his -infant son;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καὶ ποτέ τις εἴπῃ, πατρός γ’ ὅδε πολλὸν ἀμείνων</span><a name="FNanchor_989_989" id="FNanchor_989_989"></a><a href="#Footnote_989_989" class="fnanchor">[989]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_563" id="Page_563">[563]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>Hector’s moral character.</i></div> - -<p>Homer is of all poets the most free from any thing that can -be called trick; but perhaps it may be that the same necessity -of his position, which obliged him to magnify Trojan prowess -in words, while it falls so short in deeds, has found its way -from the narrative into the dramatic part of the poem. If so, -then in Hector’s boasts we may recognise Homer working out -his own general purpose rather than conforming with perfect -fidelity to tradition, or finishing an ideally perfect portrait -with the power and exactitude, which he has applied to his -greater Grecian heroes. Yet, be the cause what it may that has -led Homer to exhibit in Hector the disagreeable gift of a -bragging disposition, Mure appears to show less than his usual -precision when he ascribes to Hector in one place a partial<a name="FNanchor_990_990" id="FNanchor_990_990"></a><a href="#Footnote_990_990" class="fnanchor">[990]</a>, -and in another a total, indifference to the moral guilt of his -brother Paris.</p> - -<p>Whatever may be the reason, the fact undoubtedly is, that -neither on the Trojan, nor even on the Greek side, do we find -displayed such a sense of the shameful crime of Paris as we -might have anticipated from a first view of the manners and -feelings of the age. As far as regards the Poet himself, we -may read his indignant sense of it in the portraiture he has -been careful to give of Paris himself, and of his ill fame among -his countrymen; but, undoubtedly, although his act is everywhere -described as the cause of war, it is nowhere spoken of, -among those who had suffered by it, with the passion and -indignation which we might suppose it would have aroused. Of -all the Greeks, only Menelaus alludes to it as an act of guilt. -Various causes may be assigned for this with more or less -confidence. A probable one is, as we have seen<a name="FNanchor_991_991" id="FNanchor_991_991"></a><a href="#Footnote_991_991" class="fnanchor">[991]</a>, that the act -partook of the character of an abduction or rape, in which -enterprise and force gild or hide the ugly features of crime. An -unpopular form of criminality might then, as now, come off the -more easily from being covered by another which is popular. It -also without doubt appears, that another reason may be the -length of time which, in any view of the case, must have -elapsed since the act had taken place. But perhaps the solution -of the question is to be mainly found in this consideration, com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_564" id="Page_564">[564]</a></span>mon -to modern with ancient times, that the causes of war are -apt to be swallowed up in its circumstances. In entering upon -the arbitrement of the sword, men do not choose a fixed -position, but they embark upon a stream, always powerful and -often ungovernable. When once the armament was on the -shores of the Hellespont, there would be on both sides the -motive of military honour, and, besides this, with the Trojans, -the defence of their families and homes, with the Greeks the -hope of plunder and of license. Hence, even after the Greeks -are weakened and discouraged by the secession of Achilles, it -is not from them, but from the Trojans, that a proposal proceeds -for deciding the case of Helen by single combat. -Hence, upon the shameful escape of Paris from fulfilling this -engagement, after his defeat by Menelaus, we find little expression -of indignation on one side, and no confession of wrong -on the other. But the criticism of Mure seems to amount to -this; that it was a capital fault on the part of Hector, not to -have his mind constantly full of a question, which was rarely -thought of at all by any one on either side, except Paris and -Menelaus, the persons most directly interested.</p> - -<p>It is plain, however, that Homer has represented Hector as -keenly feeling and resenting, not only his brother’s cowardice, -but his sensuality. Twice does he address him as mad with lust, -and as a deceiver of women<a name="FNanchor_992_992" id="FNanchor_992_992"></a><a href="#Footnote_992_992" class="fnanchor">[992]</a>: out of his five speeches addressed -to Paris, only one is not reproachful; and in the only one which -extends beyond a few lines he barbs his reproaches on the -score of cowardice by fully setting forth his guilt, both morally -and as towards his country, in that, being a coward, he was -also a ravisher<a name="FNanchor_993_993" id="FNanchor_993_993"></a><a href="#Footnote_993_993" class="fnanchor">[993]</a>. The charge, however, also takes a more -specific form. We see that Hector was greatly delighted, -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐχάρη μέγα</span> when his rebuke<a name="FNanchor_994_994" id="FNanchor_994_994"></a><a href="#Footnote_994_994" class="fnanchor">[994]</a> had stirred up Paris to offer -to stake the whole issue on a single combat with Menelaus. -But it is said, why, when the battle had been lost, did not -Hector enforce the terms of the bargain? The answer seems -to be this. We stand here at a juncture in the poem, where -its theurgy supersedes its human mechanism. It is presumable -that this very thing was about to be done, when the order<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_565" id="Page_565">[565]</a></span> -of events was interrupted by the counsel of the gods. Agamemnon -had at the close of the Third Book in due course -demanded Helen. Jupiter immediately apprehended the consequences; -he saw that if faith were kept, Achilles would -neither be avenged nor glorified; and he accordingly invited -the assembly on Olympus to determine, whether Helen should -be rendered back or not. When this had been settled in the -negative, the question was how to prevent it; and it was done, -on the suggestion of Juno, by causing Pandarus to renew the -war without the privity of Hector. This shows pretty clearly -that the restoration of Helen was about to take place, had not -the gods interfered; and therefore amply suffices to relieve -Hector from reproach, who, it may be observed, takes no part -until, when the armies have been long in conflict, he has been -stung by the reproaches of Sarpedon (v. 493). If censure be -due to the arrangement, it must be lodged against the Poet, -and not against one of his personages, who simply does not -appear because there is no part for him to play.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>His responsibilities beyond his strength.</i></div> - -<p>Let us now proceed to a somewhat more general view of the -character of Hector.</p> - -<p>He occupies in the Homeric tradition a place altogether -peculiar, as, at the time of the poem, the sole eminently warlike -member of an unwarlike family; as the general of a divided -and incongruous army; and as singly responsible in chief for -the safety of his country, while he has not been invested with -the dignity and power of king. As to the first of these points, -we have the direct testimony of Homer:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἶος γὰρ ἐρύετο Ἴλιον Ἕκτωρ</span><a name="FNanchor_995_995" id="FNanchor_995_995"></a><a href="#Footnote_995_995" class="fnanchor">[995]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Of his brothers, Deiphobus alone is represented as in any -degree deserving or sharing his confidence. Of his relatives, -Polydamas appears to have been a rival in the council, Æneas -in the succession to political supremacy: and these were the -two most considerable persons of the class. It has, I conceive, -been shown to be probable, that Paris was his senior<a name="FNanchor_996_996" id="FNanchor_996_996"></a><a href="#Footnote_996_996" class="fnanchor">[996]</a>; and that -he held his place in Troy by merit against age. His uneasy -relations with his allies might be inferred from their constituting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_566" id="Page_566">[566]</a></span> -the great bulk of his force, even were they not more distinctly -betokened by the reproach of Sarpedon, and by the speech in -which he himself enters on the subject. Together with his -power over the army, he had the virtual charge of the safety -of the state, and we see signs of his influence there; but yet -he did not direct the policy of Troy: for the only important -measure, which is recorded as having been taken by the Trojans, -namely the rejection of the proposals of Antenor to give -back Helen to the Greeks, was taken in his absence and without -his knowledge. Thus we see in Hector’s case, abundantly -accumulated, the elements of a false position. And, in a word, -in order to estimate his character aright, we must keep in full -view that inferiority of the Trojans, subjects not less than -princes, as respects political genius and organization, to which -the Iliad, when carefully examined, bears ample testimony.</p> - -<p>Under the weight of public charge, as Agamemnon in the -Greek camp, so, and yet more, Hector on the Trojan side, appears -to reel; so, and yet more; for, in Hector’s case, political -power is crippled by his not being in actual possession of the -supreme station, while responsibility is edged and enhanced by -his being not only the head to devise, but also the right hand -to execute. In neither of the two, however, do we find strong -will, definiteness, and constancy of purpose, or unfailing courage. -But Agamemnon has the advantage of both wiser counsels -around him, and stronger arms than his own near his side. Hector -has little aid. Sarpedon alone of the Trojan commanders -(for Æneas really does nothing) can be called a warrior of -note; and his inferiority to Patroclus, notwithstanding his -thorough gallantry, is decorated rather than hidden by the -stage machinery of divine consultations on the subject of his -death. But as Sarpedon in the field plays a part much inferior -to the corresponding one of Diomed or Ajax, so Polydamas, -the Nestor of the Trojans, is not equal to his kindly and -genial counterpart. Four times he gives his counsel in the -field. Twice he prefaces it with personal imputations (xii. -211, and xiii. 726); and when, in the Twelfth Book (211), he -recommends the abandonment of the assault on the ships in -deference to an omen, feeling and judgment are alike on the -side of Hector’s reply, who overturns his augury by the known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_567" id="Page_567">[567]</a></span> -(though, as they proved, deceitful) counsels of Jupiter, and -emphatically pleads against doubtful signs the indubitable dictates -of patriotism.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>His bright side in the affections.</i></div> - -<p>The prophetic gift, for whatever reason, is assigned pretty -largely by Homer to the Trojans. Without entering into the -case of Cassandra, it attaches to Helenus, and also (xii. 238) -apparently to Polydamas, who undertakes to interpret a sign. -Hector himself had the weight of prescience on his breast, for -he tells Andromache<a name="FNanchor_997_997" id="FNanchor_997_997"></a><a href="#Footnote_997_997" class="fnanchor">[997]</a> that he well knows the day of ruin is at -hand; and, when he is at the point of death, he prognosticates -the coming fate of Achilles. The concentrated strain of his -duties and his previsions is too much for the strength of a character -which, from the intellectual or dramatic point of view, -is impulsive, fluctuating, and unequal, and which must therefore -undoubtedly be set down as so far secondary. But when -we pass from intellect to moral tone, from <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">διάνοια</span> to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἦθος</span>, we -certainly find in Hector one among the most touching, the -most human, of all the delineations of masculine character in -the Iliad. In him alone has Homer presented to us that most -commanding and most moving combination, of a woman’s gentleness -and deep affection with warlike and heroic strength. -If the hand of Hector was far weaker than that of the son of -Peleus, the tempestuous griefs of Achilles do not open to us a -character nearly so attractive as the depth of the gentle affections -of Hector, and the mildness warmed into such brilliancy -by his martial fame. ‘Thy love to me was wonderful; passing -the love of women<a name="FNanchor_998_998" id="FNanchor_998_998"></a><a href="#Footnote_998_998" class="fnanchor">[998]</a>.’ The constancy and tenacity of the attachments -of Ulysses come out in his relations to Penelope and -Telemachus: but, dwelling harmoniously in a character of far -broader scope and more varied sensibilities, the peculiar element -of a tenderness matching that of woman is the only one -they do not contain. Hector is neither a warrior nor a statesman -after the primary, that is the Achæan, type: but for a -model of intensity and softness in the love of a father and a -husband, it is to him that we must repair, in the incomparable -scene by the Scæan gate; incomparable, unless we may compare -it with that other scene, so near at hand, where the sight of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_568" id="Page_568">[568]</a></span> -young Polydorus slain, piercing him to the heart, raised him -in his last hour to the heights of heroism; and where the interest -and sympathy, that he has attracted all along, are absorbed -into admiration of the real sublimity of that closing -hour, when he resolved to be for ever famous at least in his too -certain death.</p> - -<p>Probably a main reason why Hector has become the groundwork -of the modern Orlando is, that no one of the Homeric -heroes exhibits a combination of qualities supplying so appropriate -a basis for the character of a Christian hero; a tone so -sensibly approximating to that of the gospel. Partly because -of those acts of piety towards the Immortals, which can hardly -receive in the case of Hector any but a favourable construction, -and which drew down the all but unanimous compassion of the -Olympian assembly on his remains; but partly also, and yet -more, in that mild, just, and tender estimate of character, -which not only secured his constant gentleness of demeanour -towards Helen, but made him her protector against the acrimony -of others, and rendered him considerate and kind even to -Paris<a name="FNanchor_999_999" id="FNanchor_999_999"></a><a href="#Footnote_999_999" class="fnanchor">[999]</a>, so soon as he saw him disposed at length to be personally -active in the mortal struggle he had brought upon his country. -There is, perhaps, no virtue more especially Christian, than -the temper which thus equitably and gently makes allowances -for human weakness, particularly if it be weakness by the -effects of which we ourselves have suffered.</p> - -<p>The employment, however, of Hector for the purposes of -Christian poetry has certainly had the effect of perverting for -us the true Homeric tradition. But, in order to understand this, -we must throw aside the Hector of our proverbs or our plays, -travel back to the Iliad, and set out anew from the starting-point -of its great author. We must there be content to take him -not as a pure effort of imagination aimed at the production of an -ideal man, but as a part of the poem of Homer, subordinated -like every other part of it to its main purpose, as well as to the -general laws of historical consistency. In modelling the several -heroes, he made the exigencies of his Hector yield to the exigencies -of his Achilles, who could have no real competitor.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_569" id="Page_569">[569]</a></span> -Nor, with the fine characteristic sense he has everywhere -shown of the national differences between Greek and Trojan, -could he build up his Hector on the same foundations with his -Greek heroes, or give him that strength and tenacity of tissue -which belongs to the European and Achæan character. He -could not equip him with either the dauntless chivalry in battle, -or the profound unswerving sagacity in council, which were reserved -for the kings of his own race, and for those most nearly -allied to them. He has imparted to the character of the chief -Trojan hero, no less than to that of the Trojan people at large, -a decided Asiatic tinge, which modifies their community of -colour with the properly European races. In such characters, -instinct and sentiment take oftentimes the place of inquiry and -reflection, and impulse does the work of conviction: the ideas -of right, order, consistency, moral dignity and self-respect, are -less clearly, less symmetrically, conceived. Though in particular -cases, such as that of Hector, the deficiency may be made -up by a liberal and full development of the most affectionate -emotions, we feel, in comparing it with the Greeks, that we are -dealing with a more contracted type of manhood: as if morally, -no less than locally, we had gone back with Homer one full -stage nearer to the cradle of our race, and had arrested and -fixed the human character at the very point where it is neither -child nor man.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Inequality of his character.</i></div> - -<p>The character of Hector, as it has been here interpreted, -does not give that satisfaction to the mind, which thorough -clearness and oneness would impart. His intellectual qualities -and his affections are not on the same scale; his martial character -jars even with itself. Yet perhaps in these very -circumstances we may upon consideration find but fresh reason -to admire the skill of Homer, and that rarely erring instinct -which forbade him to forget his whole in running after his -details.</p> - -<p>His first object seems to have been to give the fullest and -boldest prominence to the colossal shape, moral as well as -physical, of Achilles, and therefore to tone down whatever -could diminish its effect. And here the point of danger evidently -lay in Agamemnon; the chief of the army was too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_570" id="Page_570">[570]</a></span> -likely to be the chief of the poem. Accordingly he has broken -the unity of that character, and has chequered it with weakness -in various forms. But this was not all: he had to keep -the Greeks before the Trojans, as well as Achilles before the -Greeks; not only that he might consult his popularity, but -that he might indulge the genial vein of his poesy, and follow -the impulses of his patriotism, in maintaining high above all -question their intellectual and martial superiority. Had this, -however, been all, his task would have been easy; he would -then have had only to depress their opponents in all the properties -that attract admiration. But if he had simply done -this, if he had cut off the interest and sympathies of his readers -from the Trojans by general disparagement, he would have deprived -Greek valour of its choicest crown. It is a noble necessity -of war that, even in the interest of countrymen, we cannot -do injustice to adversaries, without feeling the offence recoil on -our own heads.</p> - -<p>Thus it was impossible for Homer to make his Trojan hero at -once great and consistent; and if he has made Hector unequal, -it was to avoid making him mean. By chequering his martial -daring with boastfulness, and with occasional weakness of purpose, -he has effectually provided against any interference, from this -quarter, to the prejudice of those chieftains whose praises he was -to sing in the courts and throngs of Greece. Thus he has left the -field quite clear for expatiating on their military virtues; and if, -for sufficient reasons, he has departed from his rule in the case -of Agamemnon, who receives his compensation in superiority of -rank and power, all his other Greek characters, bearing forward -parts in the poem, are constructed in faultless conformity -to the idea, or modification of an idea, which he had selected -for the basis of each. There is not a flaw in the picture of -Achilles, Diomed, Ajax, Nestor, Menelaus, or Ulysses. Not that -all these are of a type equally elevated, or alike wonderful; but -that there is no one thing in any of them which does not manifestly -conform to its type, and no one thing consequently which -jars with any other. Having thus given to his countrymen a -clear and marked ascendancy in what then at least were the -only great and governing elements of human society, the strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_571" id="Page_571">[571]</a></span> -mind, and the strong hand, he does his best for the Trojans -with what remained, that is to say, with the softer affections of -domestic life, adding only so much of the martial element as -was needful to make them no discreditable adversaries for his -countrymen. Thus, consistently with all his poetic objects, he -has been enabled to present us, to say nothing of the highly -respectable character of Hecuba, with the three unsurpassed -pictures of Priam, of Andromache, and perhaps even most, of -Hector.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The character of Helen.</i></div> - -<p>II. Let us now pass on to a production never surpassed by -the mind or hand of man.</p> - -<p>The character of Argeian Helen occupies a large place in -Grecian history, and is of extreme importance to the entire -structure of the Iliad. On behalf of the first of these propositions, -we call as witnesses her temple at Sparta, and the Encomium -of Isocrates. As to the second, the reason is expressed -in some of Homer’s noblest oratory:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τί δὲ δεῖ πολεμιζέμεναι Τρώεσσιν</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀργείους; τί δὲ λαὸν ἀνήγαγεν ἐνθάδ’ ἀγείρας</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀτρείδης; ἢ οὐχ Ἑλένης ἕνεκ’ ἠϋκόμοιο</span><a name="FNanchor_1000_1000" id="FNanchor_1000_1000"></a><a href="#Footnote_1000_1000" class="fnanchor">[1000]</a>;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Was she a vicious woman and a seductress, or was she more -nearly a victim and a penitent? Do the laws of poetical verisimilitude -and beauty, as they were understood by Homer, allow us to -suppose that he intended to represent his countrymen, of whom -he has presented to us so lofty a conception, as agitating the -world, forsaking home, pouring forth their blood, and throwing -their country into certain confusion, for the sake of a vile and -worthless character? Certainly there were periods, when in -the Greek mind the worship of beauty was so thoroughly dissociated -from all which beauty ought to typify, that an Iliad -so constructed might have been approved. But these were -periods long after Homer’s flesh had mouldered in the grave.</p> - -<p>The present inquiry has nothing to do with the opinion that -Helen was, or that she was not, an historical personage. For -my own part, I know of no reason except discrepancies of mere -traditional chronology for disbelieving her existence. These<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_572" id="Page_572">[572]</a></span> -seem to arise entirely from the practice of putting on a par -with Homer tales of very inferior authority to his. But even -apart from this, considering what, under ordinary circumstances, -the chronology of pre-historic times is likely to be, -and how many more chances there are for the preservation of -great events in outline, than for a careful adjustment of their -relative times, I cannot but think that difficulties arising from -other legends as to Helen, and bearing simply upon time, form -a very insufficient reason for the wholesale rejection of belief -in her existence. Even if, however, she never existed at all, -it still is not one whit the less reasonably to be presumed, that -Homer in fictions concerning her would be governed here and -elsewhere by all the laws, including the moral laws, of his art.</p> - -<p>Neither is it now the question, whether Helen was the model -of an heroic character. That is probably inconsistent, for the -earliest times of Greece, with her adulterous relation to Paris -and afterwards to Deiphobus. But there is a vast space between -a faultless and a worthless woman. The idea of Helen -represented by the later tradition, from the Greek tragedians -downwards, is strictly the latter idea: and this representation -has naturally occupied the popular mind, which is deprived of -the power of access to the remote Homeric picture. Now it -seems to be plain that, if this representation be substantially -true, it is a great reproach to the bard of the Iliad as a bard, -and stamps him as one, who has done his best to poison morality -at its fountain-head. For there can be no question, -that he has made his Helen highly attractive, and that he intends -her to possess our sympathies. Is it then true, or is it -false? Let us proceed to examine the evidence.</p> - -<p>In the Iliad we meet more than once with the line,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τίσασθαι δ’ Ἑλένης ὁρμήματά τε στοναχάς τε</span><a name="FNanchor_1001_1001" id="FNanchor_1001_1001"></a><a href="#Footnote_1001_1001" class="fnanchor">[1001]</a>·</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and expositors, in order to avoid ascribing to Helen any personal -wrongs, or the representation of her as rather a sufferer -than an offender, have resorted to a forced construction of the -passage, and have interpreted the words as referring to the expedition -undertaken, and the griefs suffered, <i>on account of</i> Helen<a name="FNanchor_1002_1002" id="FNanchor_1002_1002"></a><a href="#Footnote_1002_1002" class="fnanchor">[1002]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_573" id="Page_573">[573]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>Homer’s intention with respect to it.</i></div> - -<p>Unless this forced construction be the one intended by -Homer, the popular conception of her must at once explode. -According to the direct and natural construction, the Greeks -made war to avenge the wrong she had suffered, and the -groans which that wrong had drawn from her. And it is to -be observed that this line<a name="FNanchor_1003_1003" id="FNanchor_1003_1003"></a><a href="#Footnote_1003_1003" class="fnanchor">[1003]</a> is put into the mouth of Menelaus, -whom it is very natural to represent as most eager to avenge -the wrongs of his wife, but somewhat far-fetched to represent -as thinking of revenge for the trouble of the expedition he -had so keenly promoted. The line, in fact, unless justifiably -strained by these expositors, is conclusive in support of the -belief that the only evil which can justly be imputed to the -Homeric Helen simply amounts to this, that she was not a -woman of perfect virtue backed by absolute and indomitable -heroism. Pope has rather rudely approximated towards rectifying -the prevalent impression in a note<a name="FNanchor_1004_1004" id="FNanchor_1004_1004"></a><a href="#Footnote_1004_1004" class="fnanchor">[1004]</a>, where he observes -that in all she says of herself ‘there is scarce a word that is not -big with repentance and good nature.’</p> - -<p>Before examining the direct evidence with respect to the -Homeric Helen, let us advert to some which is indirect. And -in the first place it may be observed, that Menelaus never expresses -the slightest resentment against her, or appears to -have considered her as having in any manner injured him. -Next, Priam, whose character is evidently intended to attract -a good deal of our sympathy and respect, treated her as a -daughter:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκυρὸς δὲ, πατὴρ ὣς, ἤπιος αἰεί</span><a name="FNanchor_1005_1005" id="FNanchor_1005_1005"></a><a href="#Footnote_1005_1005" class="fnanchor">[1005]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Nor was this a mere figure; for in the Third Book he addresses -her as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φίλον τέκος</span><a name="FNanchor_1006_1006" id="FNanchor_1006_1006"></a><a href="#Footnote_1006_1006" class="fnanchor">[1006]</a>, and makes her sit down by his -side. In conformity with this picture, her sister-in-law Laodice -addresses her as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νύμφα φίλη</span><a name="FNanchor_1007_1007" id="FNanchor_1007_1007"></a><a href="#Footnote_1007_1007" class="fnanchor">[1007]</a>. Priam goes on to acquit her of -all responsibility in his eyes with regard to the war:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὔτι μοι αἰτίη ἐσσὶ, θεοί νύ μοι αἴτιοί εἰσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And that this was not meant to cover Paris, we may learn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_574" id="Page_574">[574]</a></span> -from the many passages, which show us how the general sentiment -of Troy detested him. Had Helen been of the character -which is commonly imputed to her, such an absolution as this -would probably not have been ascribed to Priam; while most -certainly it would not have been recorded to the honour of -Hector that he always restrained those, who were disposed -to taunt her on account of the woes she had brought upon -Troy<a name="FNanchor_1008_1008" id="FNanchor_1008_1008"></a><a href="#Footnote_1008_1008" class="fnanchor">[1008]</a>.</p> - -<p>She describes herself indeed as the object of general horror -in Troy (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πάντες δέ με πεφρίκασιν</span><a name="FNanchor_1009_1009" id="FNanchor_1009_1009"></a><a href="#Footnote_1009_1009" class="fnanchor">[1009]</a>). But these words do no more -than state the impression, at a moment of agony, on her own -humbled and self-mistrusting mind: while, even had they given -a faithful picture of the manner in which she was regarded by -the Trojans, still they might well be explained with reference -to the woes of which she had been at least the occasion, and -the sentiment they describe might as naturally have been felt, -even had she been the lawfully obtained wife of Paris.</p> - -<p>There are two other passages, which may seem at first sight -to betoken a state of mind adverse to her among the Greeks. -But the explanation of them is simply this, that the cause of woe -is naturally enough denounced on account of the misfortunes it -has entailed, irrespective of the question whether or in what -degree it may be a guilty cause<a name="FNanchor_1010_1010" id="FNanchor_1010_1010"></a><a href="#Footnote_1010_1010" class="fnanchor">[1010]</a>. Thus Achilles calls Helen -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ῥιγεδάνη</span>, ‘that horrible Helen;’ but it is only when her abduction -has produced to him the bitter and harrowing affliction of -the death of Patroclus. When he mentions her in the magnificent -speech of the Ninth Book to the envoys, she is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἑλένη -ἠΰκομος</span>, ‘the fair-haired Helen.’ Now, if she had been vile, -the course of his argument must have constrained him then to -state it. For he was reasoning thus: May I not resent the loss -of Briseis, who was dear to me (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυμαρής</span><a name="FNanchor_1011_1011" id="FNanchor_1011_1011"></a><a href="#Footnote_1011_1011" class="fnanchor">[1011]</a>), when the sons of -Atreus have made their loss of Helen the cause of the war? -Had Helen been worthless, it would have added greatly to the -stringency of his argument to have drawn the contrast in that -particular, between the woman whom Agamemnon had taken -away, and the woman that he was seeking, by means of the -convulsive struggle of a nation, to recover.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_575" id="Page_575">[575]</a></span></p> - -<p>The other passage is in Od. xxiii., where Penelope, after the -recognition of her husband, speaks of Helen in these <span class="lock">words:—</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὴν δ’ ἤτοι ῥέξαι θεὸς ὤρορεν ἔργον ἀεικές</span><a name="FNanchor_1012_1012" id="FNanchor_1012_1012"></a><a href="#Footnote_1012_1012" class="fnanchor">[1012]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But even in this only passage where the act of Helen is so described, -several points are to be observed. First, it is referred -to a preternatural influence, which is not the manner of this -Poet in cases at least of deep and deliberate crime; secondly, no -epithet of infamy is applied to her; thirdly, we must observe -the drift of the speaker. Penelope is excusing herself to -Ulysses, for her own extreme caution and reserve in admitting -his identity. Therefore she is naturally led to enhance the -dreadful nature of the occurrence where a wife gives herself -over into the power of any man, other than one known to be -her husband; and this, whether the act be voluntary or involuntary. -Accordingly she refers to the act of Helen rather -than to the agent, and treats it as horrible; but avoids charging -it as wilful.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Homer’s Epithets for Helen.</i></div> - -<p>On the other hand, we may observe that the general tenour -of the epithets bestowed upon Helen leans on the whole towards -the laudatory sense.</p> - -<p>She is</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐπατέρεια</span>, the high-born; Il. vi. 292; Od. xxii. 227; most -probably agreeing in sense with the next phrase.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Διὸς ἐκγεγαυῖα</span>, the child of Jupiter; Il. iii. 199; <i>et alibi</i>.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κούρη Διὸς</span>, the daughter of Jupiter; Il. iii. 426.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῖα γυναικῶν</span>, the excellent, or flower of women; Il. iii. 171, 228; -and Od. iv. 305; xv. 106.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλλιπάρῃος</span>, of the beautiful cheeks; Od. xv. 123.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καλλίκομος</span>; Od. xv. 58; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἠΰκομος</span>; Il. iii. 329, <i>et alibi</i>, the fair-haired.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">λευκώλενος</span>, the white-armed; Il. iii. 121; Od. xxii. 227.</p> - -<p><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τανύπεπλος</span>, the well-rounded; Il. iii. 228; <i>et alibi</i>.</p> - -<p>And lastly, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀργείη</span>, the Argive; Il. ii. 161; and in no less than -twelve other places.</p></div> - -<p>No one of these appellations carries the smallest taint or -censure. The epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δῖα</span> in all probability applies to her personal -beauty and majesty, as we find it used of Paris and of -Clytemnestra. It would appear, however, that the use of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_576" id="Page_576">[576]</a></span> -term Argive or Argeian, in many passages where it is not required -for mere description, has a special force. For Homer -never exhibits that which is simply Greek in any other than -an honourable light; and in calling Helen Argeian, he certainly -expresses something of general sympathy towards her. -No other person, except only Juno, is called Argeian. Plainly -the effect of his epithets for her as a whole is quite out of harmony -with the ideas, which the later tradition has attached to -her name. A yet more marked indication in her favour, than -any of them taken singly will supply, may be derived from his -likening her, in the palace of Menelaus, to Diana:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤλυθεν, Ἀρτέμιδι χρυσηλακάτῳ εἰκυῖα</span><a name="FNanchor_1013_1013" id="FNanchor_1013_1013"></a><a href="#Footnote_1013_1013" class="fnanchor">[1013]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He certainly would not have associated by this comparison one, -of whom he meant us to think ill, with the chaste and even -severe majesty of his ever-pure Diana (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἄρτεμις ἁγνή</span>).</p> - -<p>So much with regard to the designations applied to Helen in -the Iliad and Odyssey. Next, with regard to her demeanour. -It is admitted to be, so far as the matter of chastity is concerned, -without any fault other than the inevitable one of her -position. Besides other qualities that will be noticed presently, -she appears in the light of a refined and feeling, a -blameless and even matronly person; a character, which, as -we shall see, her abduction by Paris from Menelaus did not -disentitle her to bear.</p> - -<p>We must beware of applying unconditionally, to women -placed under conditions widely different, ideas so specifically -Christian as those that belong to the absolute sanctity of the -marriage tie. We must rather look for the moral aspect of -the case in the opinions of the period, and in the particular -circumstances which attended the rupture of the bond in the -given instance, than assume it from the naked fact that there -was a rupture.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The case of Bathsheba.</i></div> - -<p>It may seem not unfair to compare the case of Helen with -the somewhat similar case of Bathsheba among the Jews. If -on the one hand we are bound to bear in mind the inferior -station of the latter personage, on the other it is to be remembered -that the Greeks were further removed from the -light of Divine Revelation. Now we are not accustomed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_577" id="Page_577">[577]</a></span> -look upon the character of Bathsheba as infamous, though she -lived with King David as one among his wives, while Uriah, -her former husband, who had been robbed of her, was sent to -certain death on her account; and this, so far as we are informed, -without awakening in her any peculiar emotions of sympathy, -sorrow, reluctance, or remorse. And this, as I take it, -mainly for two reasons—first, that we have no signs of any -passion, and in particular of any antecedent passion, for the -offending king on her part; secondly, that she does not appear -to have been otherwise than passively a party to the abduction.</p> - -<p>It is in the capacity of wife, and only wife, to Paris that -Helen appears to us in the Iliad: where she herself speaks of -Menelaus as her <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πρότερος πόσις</span><a name="FNanchor_1014_1014" id="FNanchor_1014_1014"></a><a href="#Footnote_1014_1014" class="fnanchor">[1014]</a>.</p> - -<p>Now the presumed reasons for not regarding the character of -Bathsheba as infamous apply with nearly equal force to Helen. -Indeed the character of Helen in one point stands higher in -Homer than that of Bathsheba in the Old Testament, because -she lived with Paris as a recognised and only wife, and because -of her gentleness, and especially of her repentance. Of these as -to Bathsheba, we know nothing; but such pleas as tell for her -tell in the main also for Helen. We have no indication, either -in the Iliad or in the Odyssey, of her having at any time felt -either passion or affection towards the worthless Paris. Above -all, as it will be attempted to prove, the language of the poems -not only does not sustain the idea that she willingly left the -house of her husband Menelaus, but it shows something which -closely approaches to the direct contrary.</p> - -<p>But there is no method of measuring so accurately the view -and intention of Homer as to the impression we were meant -to receive of Helen, as by comparing the language he applies -to her with the widely different terms in which he describes -the conduct of Clytemnestra, in conjunction with Ægisthus, -during the absence of Agamemnon:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὴν δ’ ἐθέλων ἐθέλουσαν ἀνήγαγεν ὅνδε δόμονδε</span><a name="FNanchor_1015_1015" id="FNanchor_1015_1015"></a><a href="#Footnote_1015_1015" class="fnanchor">[1015]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In speaking of her own abduction, Helen indeed uses the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤγαγε</span><a name="FNanchor_1016_1016" id="FNanchor_1016_1016"></a><a href="#Footnote_1016_1016" class="fnanchor">[1016]</a>. And again in her sharp expostulation with Aphro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_578" id="Page_578">[578]</a></span>dite, -she says, ‘What, will you take me (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄξεις</span>) to some other -Phrygian or Mæonian city, where you may have a favourite<a name="FNanchor_1017_1017" id="FNanchor_1017_1017"></a><a href="#Footnote_1017_1017" class="fnanchor">[1017]</a>?’ -Now this by no means implies her having acted freely; the -word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄγειν</span> is that commonly applied to the carrying off captives -from a conquered city, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φέρειν</span> is to the removal of inanimate -objects. Undoubtedly in one of her passages of self-reproach -she says<a name="FNanchor_1018_1018" id="FNanchor_1018_1018"></a><a href="#Footnote_1018_1018" class="fnanchor">[1018]</a>:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">υἱέϊ σῷ ἑπόμην, θάλαμον γνωτούς τε λιποῦσα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But, in the first place, it is neither here nor anywhere else said -that her flight was voluntary; and on the other hand, without -doubt, it is not to be pretended that she had resisted with the -spirit of a martyr. The real question is as to the first and -fatal act of quitting her husband, whether it was premeditated, -and whether it was of her free choice. Now both branches of -this question appear to be conclusively decided by the word -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἁρπάξας</span> in the following passage<a name="FNanchor_1019_1019" id="FNanchor_1019_1019"></a><a href="#Footnote_1019_1019" class="fnanchor">[1019]</a>, spoken by Paris:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">οὐ γὰρ πώποτέ μ’ ὧδέ γ’ Ἔρως φρένας ἀμφεκάλυψεν,</div> - <div class="verse">οὐδ’ ὅτε σε πρῶτον Λακεδαίμονος ἐξ ἐρατεινῆς</div> - <div class="verse">ἔπλεον ἁρπάξας ἐν ποντοπόροισι νέεσσιν.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And the rest of the passage corroborates the evidence, by showing -that she was free from any act of guilt at the time when -the voyage was commenced. The representation of Menelaus -himself, in the Thirteenth Iliad, accords with the speech of Paris. -He charges that Prince and his abettors not with having corrupted -his wife, but with having carried her off,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οἵ μευ κουριδίην ἄλοχον καὶ κτήματα πολλὰ</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μὰψ οἴχεσθ’ ἀνάγοντες, ἐπεὶ φιλέεσθε παρ’ αὐτῇ</span><a name="FNanchor_1020_1020" id="FNanchor_1020_1020"></a><a href="#Footnote_1020_1020" class="fnanchor">[1020]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, in the only place where Helen refers jointly to her -own share and to that of Paris in the matter<a name="FNanchor_1021_1021" id="FNanchor_1021_1021"></a><a href="#Footnote_1021_1021" class="fnanchor">[1021]</a>, she distinguishes -their respective parts, saying to Hector, ‘You have had to toil -on account of me, shameless that I am, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀλεξάνδρου ἑνεκ’ -ἄτης</span>, on account of the sin of Paris.’</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Picture of Helen in Il.</i> iii.</div> - -<p>Let us now follow the character of Helen, as it is exhibited -in life and motion before us by the Poet. In the Third Book, -when Paris is about to encounter Menelaus, Iris, in the form of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_579" id="Page_579">[579]</a></span> -her sister-in-law Laodice, announces the fact to Helen, and lets -her know that her own fate is suspended on the issue, which -will decide whether she is to be the wife of Paris or of Menelaus. -Laodice finds her busied in embroidery, which is to represent -the War of Greeks and Trojans. The expression, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νύμφα -φίλη</span>, with which the disguised goddess addresses her, is a sign -that she was held in respect, and that when she speaks<a name="FNanchor_1022_1022" id="FNanchor_1022_1022"></a><a href="#Footnote_1022_1022" class="fnanchor">[1022]</a> in the -last Book of the taunts and skits of which she was the object, -we must understand her to use the natural exaggeration of impassioned -grief. At the call of the seeming Laodice, moved -apparently by tenderness towards her former husband<a name="FNanchor_1023_1023" id="FNanchor_1023_1023"></a><a href="#Footnote_1023_1023" class="fnanchor">[1023]</a>, Helen -goes forth, clad in a robe of simple white<a name="FNanchor_1024_1024" id="FNanchor_1024_1024"></a><a href="#Footnote_1024_1024" class="fnanchor">[1024]</a>. On her reaching -the walls Priam calls her to his side, that she may tell him the -name of a kingly warrior, who proves to be Agamemnon. In -doing this, he gently acquits her of all responsibility for the -war. She answers in a speech of uncommon grace, ‘that she -dreads while she reveres and loves him: would that she had -miserably died rather than leave her family, her nuptial bed, -her infant, and her friends. But this could not be; so that she -ever pined away in tears.’ She designates herself here and -elsewhere<a name="FNanchor_1025_1025" id="FNanchor_1025_1025"></a><a href="#Footnote_1025_1025" class="fnanchor">[1025]</a> as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύων</span>, and also as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κύνωπις</span>, brazen-faced or shameless; -but yet she appears at all times to have retained the -fond recollection of her home and friends<a name="FNanchor_1026_1026" id="FNanchor_1026_1026"></a><a href="#Footnote_1026_1026" class="fnanchor">[1026]</a>, and to have lived -in grave and sorrowful retirement. Everywhere she seems not -only not to avoid, but to search for, the opportunity of bitter -self-accusation. Thus, when she has pointed out the Greek -chieftains whom she knew personally, she proceeds, ‘but I do -not see my brothers, Castor and Polydeuces: perhaps they -came not from Greece; perhaps, though here, yet on account -of my infamy and reproach, they will not appear in fight<a name="FNanchor_1027_1027" id="FNanchor_1027_1027"></a><a href="#Footnote_1027_1027" class="fnanchor">[1027]</a>.’</p> - -<p>Paris, after his defeat, is removed by Aphrodite from the -field: Menelaus remains as victor. But Helen still tarries upon -the wall, evidently hoping that the hour of her restoration had -now at last arrived. The goddess Venus then appears to her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_580" id="Page_580">[580]</a></span> -disguised in the form of an aged servant; and endeavours to -attract her by a glowing description of Paris, in his beauty and -his splendid garments. By this address Helen was alarmed<a name="FNanchor_1028_1028" id="FNanchor_1028_1028"></a><a href="#Footnote_1028_1028" class="fnanchor">[1028]</a>: -and her alarm almost became stupefaction, when she perceived -the features of the deity. But a strong reaction followed: so -that she made a bitter and stinging reply. Gentle on all other -occasions, she is here sharp and sarcastic. She<a name="FNanchor_1029_1029" id="FNanchor_1029_1029"></a><a href="#Footnote_1029_1029" class="fnanchor">[1029]</a> reproaches -Venus with having come to prevent Menelaus from taking her -home in right of his victory; then bids her assume to herself -the odious character she sought to force on one who had too -long borne it, and utterly refuses to go. Venus hereupon intimidates -her, by a threat of making her hateful alike to Greek -and Trojan, and so bringing her to miserable destruction. She -then obeys, covering her face in shame and indignation; and -when placed by the goddess in front of Paris in their chamber, -she sharply reproaches him; but the real delicacy of her character -is maintained in this, that she does it <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὄσσε πάλιν κλίνασα</span>, -with averted and downcast eyes. In what follows, she is but -the reluctant instrument of a passion, which Homer seems to -have described in this place, contrary to his wont, with the distinct -purpose of raising indignation to the highest pitch, and -covering Paris with a contempt and shame proportioned to the -crime he had committed, and to the miseries of which by crime -he had been the cause.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, this delineation of Helen in the Third Book -may well be taken as one of the most masterly parts of the -Iliad. The extreme fineness and delicacy of its shading mark -it as an immortal work of genius, and the gentleness of Helen -towards Priam, with her severity to herself, and her sternness -both to the corrupter, and to the goddess that aided and inspired -him, form a moral picture of the most striking truth -and beauty. Indeed, if the question be asked, where does -Paganism come nearest to the penitential tone and the pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_581" id="Page_581">[581]</a></span>found -self-abasement that belong to Christianity, we might find -it difficult to point out an instance of approximation so striking -as is, here and elsewhere, the Helen of Homer.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>In Il.</i> vi. <i>Il.</i> xxiv. <i>Od.</i> iv.</div> - -<p>In three other places of the poems, Helen is put prominently -forward.</p> - -<p>In the Sixth Book, before Hector repairs to the field, he -goes to the palace of Paris to summon him forth. He finds the -effeminate prince handling uselessly his arms, while Helen is -superintending the beautiful works of her women<a name="FNanchor_1030_1030" id="FNanchor_1030_1030"></a><a href="#Footnote_1030_1030" class="fnanchor">[1030]</a>. By and by -it appears that, sensible of the shame of her husband’s cowardice, -though without interest in his fame, she has been persuading -him to go forth and fight; and she takes the opportunity of -Hector’s presence to offer him a chair that he may rest from -his fatigues; to revile herself as, next to her husband, the cause -of them; and, while grieving that she had outlived her infancy, -to lament also that, if she was to live at all, she had not been -united to one less impervious to the sentiment of honour.</p> - -<p>Again, Homer has thought her not unworthy of the third -place, with Andromache and Hecuba, as mourners over the -mighty Hector, in the deeply touching description of the return -of his remains to Troy<a name="FNanchor_1031_1031" id="FNanchor_1031_1031"></a><a href="#Footnote_1031_1031" class="fnanchor">[1031]</a>. The tenour of this speech is -kept in the exactest harmony with what has gone before.</p> - -<p>We now bid adieu to the Helen of Homer in her sorrow -and shame among the Trojans. But the Poet presents her to -us again in prosperity and domestic peace, as the Queen of -Menelaus; who, though not the heir of the high throne of -Agamemnon, yet held a station in Greece, after the Return, of -highly elevated influence. This is a picture, which it would not -have been in accordance with the usual course of Homer to set -before us, had his mind attached to Helen the character given -to her by the later tradition; for where does he represent to us -the wicked in prosperity, without bringing down on them subsequently -the vengeance of heaven? But on the Helen of the -Odyssey he has left no note of sorrow, except the most moving -and appropriate of all, namely this, that the gods gave her no -child after Hermione, the daughter of her early youth<a name="FNanchor_1032_1032" id="FNanchor_1032_1032"></a><a href="#Footnote_1032_1032" class="fnanchor">[1032]</a>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_582" id="Page_582">[582]</a></span></p> - -<p>From her stately chamber she comes forth into the hall, -after the feast. She is attended by three maidens, who bear -respectively the first her seat, the second its covering, the -third her work-basket and distaff. She remarks on the likeness -of Telemachus to Ulysses, and humbly recollects to confess, -that she herself has been the cause of the sufferings of the -Greeks. The allusions then made to Ulysses cause her, with -the rest, to weep tenderly; and when her husband with his -friends resumes the banquet, she infuses into their wine the -soothing drug, supposed to have been opium, which she had -obtained from Egypt, to make them forgetful of their sorrows. -Then she begins to tell tales in honour of Ulysses: and how, -when in his beggar’s dress he escaped scatheless from Troy, -and left many of the Trojans slaughtered behind him, she -alone, amidst the wailings of the women, was full of joy, for her -heart had been yearning towards her home.</p> - -<p>There is indeed a trait that deserves notice in the speech -of Menelaus, which has been lately mentioned. Helen came -down to detect, if possible, the Greeks concealed within the -Horse: therefore, to act in the interest of the Trojans. Now -if, on the one hand, she looked back on her country and -her first husband with many yearnings, yet it was not to be -wondered at that as a woman, nowhere pretending to the character -of a heroine, she should be so far pliable to the wishes -or subject to the compulsion of the Trojans—especially when -we remember her love and reverence for their head, and for -Hector, who had but lately died in their defence—as to make -this effort to defeat the stratagem of the besiegers. But -Menelaus, in referring to the incident, carefully spares Helen’s -feelings by another of those strokes of exceeding tact and refinement -for which Homer’s writings are so remarkable, both -generally, and as to the chivalrous character of this hero in particular. -‘Thither,’ he says, that is to the Horse, ‘thou camest; -and no doubt,’ he adds, ‘it was the influence of some celestial -being, favourable to Troy, that prompted thee;’ thus preventing -by anticipation the sting that his words might carry:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἦλθες ἔπειτα σὺ κεῖσε· κελευσέμεναι δέ σ’ ἔμελλεν</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δαίμων, ὃς Τρώεσσιν ἐβούλετο κῦδος ὀρέξαι</span><a name="FNanchor_1033_1033" id="FNanchor_1033_1033"></a><a href="#Footnote_1033_1033" class="fnanchor">[1033]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_583" id="Page_583">[583]</a></span></p> -<div class="sidenote"><i>Her marriage to Deiphobus.</i></div> - -<p>Tradition has assigned Deiphobus to Helen, as a husband -after the death of Paris. This tradition is supported, though -not expressly, yet sufficiently, by the Odyssey; for, says Menelaus, -when the Greeks had constructed the Horse, and when -Helen was brought down to detect those who were within it, -by imitating the voices of their wives respectively, it is added,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καί τοι Δηΐφοβος θεοείκελος ἕσπετ’ ἰούσῃ</span><a name="FNanchor_1034_1034" id="FNanchor_1034_1034"></a><a href="#Footnote_1034_1034" class="fnanchor">[1034]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And by the further passage in Od. vii. 517, which represents -Ulysses as repairing straight from the Horse to the house of -Deiphobus, in company with Menelaus.</p> - -<p>Presuming therefore that this tale was well founded, it may -be remarked, that the selection of Deiphobus, as the person who -should take Helen to wife, was probably founded on his superior -merit<a name="FNanchor_1035_1035" id="FNanchor_1035_1035"></a><a href="#Footnote_1035_1035" class="fnanchor">[1035]</a>. It was under his image, that Minerva came upon -the field to inveigle Hector into facing Achilles: and Hector then -described him as the one whom he loved by far the best amidst -his full brothers, the children of Priam and of Hecuba. This -therefore thoroughly accords with the idea, that Helen was -held in respect. Nor let it be thought strange, that she was -not permitted to remain single. The idea of single life for -women, outside their fathers’ home, seems to have been wholly -unknown among the Greeks of Homer. When marriageable, -they married; when their country was overcome, they became, -as of course, the appendages of the couch of the captor. Penelope -herself never dreamt of urging that, when once the return of -Ulysses was out of the question, she could have any other -option than to make choice among the Suitors whose wife she -would become. Telemachus contemplates her immediate restoration -to her father’s home when he, her son, should assume -the full prerogatives of manhood.</p> - -<p>The whole Homeric evidence, then, appears to show that, -from the moment of her removal, neither the usages of society, -nor the ideas of religion or the moral code, could allow Helen -to remain in the single state. But it may be said this seems to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_584" id="Page_584">[584]</a></span> -prove too much on her behalf; namely, that both the abduction -and the subsequent life were against her will. It is, however, -entirely in keeping with the testimony of the poems, to suppose -that her whole offence lay in having permitted at the first, -perhaps half unconsciously, the attentions of a flatterer, who -became at once a paramour and a tyrant to his victim. In -order to comprehend the heroic age, it is indispensable that we -should recollect that the responsibilities of women were contracted -in proportion to her strength; and that the heroism -of endurance, in which she has since excelled, is a Christian -product.</p> - -<p>That element of weakness and lightness in a character otherwise -beautiful, which the incident of the Horse betrays, was -probably at once the source and the measure of her offending -in reference to the cause of war. It was a mind of relaxed -fibre, and vacillated under pressure. Less than this we cannot -suppose, and there is no occasion to suppose more. The respect -felt, within certain limits, for women in the heroic age, and so -powerfully proved by the Odyssey, may perhaps be adverse -to the supposition that Paris carried her away without some -degree of previous encouragement. I confine myself to ‘perhaps,’ -because it is nowhere indicated in the poems, and we -can at most have only a presumption to this effect. On the -other hand, it seems certain that what she expiated in life-long -sadness was, at any rate, no more than the first step in the -ways of folly, the thoughtless error of short-sighted vanity, -which the state of manners did not permit her subsequently -to redeem. Repent she might: but to return was beyond her -power.</p> - -<p>On the whole, it may be said with confidence that the Helen -of the Homeric poems has been conceived, by an author himself -of peculiar delicacy, with great truth of nature, and with -no intention to deprive her of a share in the sympathies of his -hearers; that he has made her a woman, not cast in the mould -of martyrs, nor elevated in moral ideas to a capacity of comprehension -and of endurance above her age, but yet endowed with -much tenderness of feeling, with the highest grace and refine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_585" id="Page_585">[585]</a></span>ment, -and with a deep and peculiar sense of shame for having -done wrong. Probably her appreciation of virtue and of honour, -though beneath that of the highest matronly characters, -may have been in no way inferior to that of society at large in -her own time, and superior to the standard of many following -epochs; nay superior also to that which has prevailed, at least -locally, even at some periods of the Christian era: as, for example, -when Ariosto wrote the remarkable passage—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Perche si de’ punir donna o biasmare</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Che con uno, o più d’ uno, abbia commesso</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Quel, che l’ uom fa con quante n’ ha appetito</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">E lodato ne va, non che impunito</span><a name="FNanchor_1036_1036" id="FNanchor_1036_1036"></a><a href="#Footnote_1036_1036" class="fnanchor">[1036]</a>?</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>General estimate of the Homeric Helen.</i></div> - -<p>The degradation of Helen by the later tradition will be -treated of hereafter. Meantime it will be seen how much on -this subject I have the misfortune to differ from Mure, who has -been usually so great a benefactor to the students of Homer. -With him ‘Helen is the female counterpart of Paris<a name="FNanchor_1037_1037" id="FNanchor_1037_1037"></a><a href="#Footnote_1037_1037" class="fnanchor">[1037]</a>.’ Paris -and Helen are respectively ‘the man of fashion and the woman -of pleasure of the heroic age.’ ‘Both are unprincipled votaries -of sensual enjoyment; both self-willed and petulant, but not -devoid of amiable and generous feeling.’ He finds indeed in -her a ‘tenderness of heart and kindly disposition;’ and says -that ‘traces of better principle seem also to lurk under the general -levity of her habits.’ This petulance, this general levity, I -do not find; but rather the notes of a fatal fall, continually and -deeply felt under the general grace and beauty of her character. -What Mure calls her ‘petulant argument with her patron -goddess,’ we take to be the noble and indignant reaction of a -soul under the yoke of conscious slavery, and still quick to the -throb of virtue. Indeed I derive some comfort from the closing -words of his criticism, in which, after expressing his pity and -condemnation, he says that still ‘we are constrained to love -and admire.’ In the whole circle of the classical literature, as -far as it is known to us, there is, I repeat, nothing that approaches -so nearly to what Christian theology would term a -sense of sin, as the humble demeanour, and the self-denouncing, -self-stabbing language of the Argeian Helen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_586" id="Page_586">[586]</a></span></p><div class="sidenote"><i>The character of Paris.</i></div> - -<p>III. The character of Paris is as worthy, as any other in the -poems, of the powerful hand and just judgment of Homer. It -is neither on the one hand slightly, nor on the other too elaborately, -drawn; the touches are just such and so many, as his -poetic purpose seemed on the one hand to demand, and on the -other to admit. Paris is not indeed the gentleman, but he is -the fine gentleman, and the pattern voluptuary, of the heroic -ages; and all his successors in these capacities may well be -wished joy of their illustrious prototype. The redeeming, or -at least relieving point in his character, is one which would -condemn any personage of higher intellectual or moral pretensions; -it is a total want of earnestness, the unbroken sway of -levity and of indifference to all serious and manly considerations. -He completely fulfils the idea of the <i>poco-curante</i>, except as to -the display of his personal beauty, the enjoyment of luxury, -and the resort to sensuality as the best refuge from pain and -care. He is not a monster, for he is neither savage nor revengeful; -but still further is he from being one of Homer’s heroes, -for he has neither honour, courage, eloquence, thought, -nor prudence. That he bears the reproaches of Hector without -irritation, is due to that same moral apathy, and that narrowness -of intelligence, which makes him insensible to those of his wife. -No man can seriously resent what he does not really feel. He -is wholly destitute even of the delicacy and refinement which -soften many of the features of vice; and the sensuality he shows -in the Third Book<a name="FNanchor_1038_1038" id="FNanchor_1038_1038"></a><a href="#Footnote_1038_1038" class="fnanchor">[1038]</a> partakes largely of the brutal character -which marks the lusts of Jupiter. No wise, no generous word, -ever passes from his lips. On one subject only he is determined -enough; it is, that he will not give up the woman whom -he well knows to be without attachment to him<a name="FNanchor_1039_1039" id="FNanchor_1039_1039"></a><a href="#Footnote_1039_1039" class="fnanchor">[1039]</a>, and whom he -keeps not as the object of his affections, but merely as the instrument -of his pleasures. One solicitude only he cherishes; it -is to decorate his person, to exhibit his beauty, to brighten -with care the arms that he would fain parade, but has not the -courage to employ against the warriors of Greece.</p> - -<p>There are other greater achievements in the Iliad, but none -finer, or more deserving our commendation, than the manner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_587" id="Page_587">[587]</a></span> -in which Homer has handled the difficult character of Paris. -It was quite necessary to raise him to a certain point of importance; -had he been simply contemptible, his place in the -early stages of the Trojan tale, and the prolongation of the -War on his account, would have involved a too violent departure -from the laws of poetical credibility. This importance Homer, -whether from imagination or from history, has supplied; in part -by his very high position. Even if I were wrong in the opinion -that the Poet meant to represent him as the eldest son, or -the eldest living son, of Priam, it would still at least be plain -that he is more eminent and conspicuous than any other member -of the royal house after Hector; while he is so much less -worthy than Deiphobus, for example, that no one, I think, -could doubt that his distinction is due to his being senior to -that respectable prince and warrior, and to the rest of his -brothers. Further, the Poet has raised him to the very highest -elevation in two particulars; one the gift of archery, the other -the endowment of corporeal grace and beauty. But neither of -these involves one particle of courage, or of any other virtue; -for the archer of Homer’s time was not like the British bowman, -who stood with his comrades in the line, and discharged -the function in war which has since fallen to musketry; he -was a mere sharpshooter, always having the most deliberate -opportunity of aim at the enemy, and always himself out of -danger. No archer is ever hit in the Iliad; but Pandarus, so -skilled in the bow, is slain, and Paris is disgraced, when they -respectively venture to assume the spear. Again, the Poet -has contrived that the accomplishments of Paris, though in -themselves unsurpassed, shall attract towards him no share, -great or small, of our regard. This prince really does more, -than even Hector does, to stay the torrent of the Grecian war; -for in the Eleventh Book, from behind a pillar, he wounds -Diomed, who had fought with the Immortals, Eurypylus, who -had also been one of the nine accepters of Hector’s challenge, -and Machaon, one of the two surgeons. Thus Homer<a name="FNanchor_1040_1040" id="FNanchor_1040_1040"></a><a href="#Footnote_1040_1040" class="fnanchor">[1040]</a> has -been able to make him most useful in battle, most lovely to the -eye, and yet alike detestable and detested.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_588" id="Page_588">[588]</a></span></p> -<p>This aim he attains, not by that tame method of description -which he so much eschews, but by the turn he gives to narrative, -and by the colour he imparts to it in one or a few words.</p> - -<p>Paris, though effeminate and apathetic, is not gentle, either -to his wife or his enemies; and, when he has wounded Diomed, -he wishes the shot had been a fatal one. The reply of Diomed -cuts deeper than any arrow when he addresses him as,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Bowman! ribald! well-frizzled girl-hunter<a name="FNanchor_1041_1041" id="FNanchor_1041_1041"></a><a href="#Footnote_1041_1041" class="fnanchor">[1041]</a>!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Again, the Poet tells us, as if by accident, that when, after the -battle with Menelaus, he could not be found, it was not because -the Trojans were unwilling to give him up, for they hated him -with the hatred, which they felt to dark Death<a name="FNanchor_1042_1042" id="FNanchor_1042_1042"></a><a href="#Footnote_1042_1042" class="fnanchor">[1042]</a>. And again -we learn, how he uses bribery to keep his ground in the Assembly; -how he refuses to recognise even his own military -inferiority, but lamely accounts for the success of Menelaus by -saying that all men have their turn<a name="FNanchor_1043_1043" id="FNanchor_1043_1043"></a><a href="#Footnote_1043_1043" class="fnanchor">[1043]</a>; and how he causes -shame to his own countrymen and exultation to the Greeks, -when they contrast the pretensions of his splendid appearance -with his miserable performances in the field<a name="FNanchor_1044_1044" id="FNanchor_1044_1044"></a><a href="#Footnote_1044_1044" class="fnanchor">[1044]</a>.</p> - -<p>Homer, full as he is of the harmonies of nature, differs in -this as in so many points from most among later writers, that -he does not set at nought the due proportion between the -moral and the intellectual man, nor combine high gifts of mind -with a mean and bad heart. He never varies from this rule; -and he has been careful to pay it a marked observance in the -case of Paris. No set of speeches in the Iliad are marked by -greater poverty of ideas. If he cleans his arms and builds his -house, which are honourable employments, they are employments -immediately connected with the ostentation to which he -was so much given. More than this, the Poet informs us, -through the medium of Helen, that he was but ill supplied -with sense, and that he was too old to mend:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τούτῳ δ’ οὔτ’ ἂρ νῦν φρένες ἔμπεδοι, οὔτ ἄρ’ ὀπίσσω</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔσσονται</span><a name="FNanchor_1045_1045" id="FNanchor_1045_1045"></a><a href="#Footnote_1045_1045" class="fnanchor">[1045]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The immediate transition, in the Third Book, from the field<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_589" id="Page_589">[589]</a></span> -of battle, where he was disgraced, to the bed of luxury, is -admirably suited to impress upon the mind, by the strong -contrast, the real character of Paris. Nor let it be thought, -that Homer has gratuitously forced upon us the scene between -him and his reluctant wife. It was just that he should mark -as a bad man him who had sinned grossly, selfishly, and -fatally, alike against Greece and his own family and country. -This impression would not have been consistent and thorough -in all its parts, if we had been even allowed to suppose that, as -a refined, affectionate, and tender husband, he made such -amends to Helen as the case permitted for the wrong done -her in his hot and heady youth. Such a supposition might -excusably have been entertained, and it would have been -supported by the very feebleness of the character of Paris and -by his part in the war, had Homer been silent upon the -subject. He, therefore, though with cautious hand, lifts the -veil so far as to show us that in our variously compounded -nature animal desire can use up and absorb the strength which -ought to nerve our higher faculties, and that, as none are -more cruel than the timid, so none are more brutal than the -effeminate.</p> - -<p>One hold, and one only, Paris seems to retain on human -affection in any sort or form. The paternal instinct of Priam -makes him shudder and retire, when he is told that Paris -is about to meet Menelaus in single combat. This trait would -have been of extraordinary and universal beauty, had the -object of the affection been even moderately worthy: it is a -remarkable proof of the debasement of Paris, and of the strong -sense which Homer gives us of that debasement, that the tender -father seems in a measure tainted by the very warmth and -strength of his love.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_590" id="Page_590">[590]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>SECT. VII.<br /> - -<span class="smaller"><i>The declension of the great Homeric Characters in the -later Tradition<a name="FNanchor_1046_1046" id="FNanchor_1046_1046"></a><a href="#Footnote_1046_1046" class="fnanchor">[1046]</a>.</i></span></h3> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Physical conditions of the Greek Theatre.</i></div> - -<p>One legitimate mode of measuring the true greatness of -Homer is, by observing what has become of the materials and -instruments he worked with, upon their passing into other -hands. Acting on this principle, let us now pass on to consider -the murderous maltreatment, which the most remarkable of all -the Homeric characters have had to endure in the later tradition; -partly, as I have already observed, from general, and -partly from special causes. On the more general influence of -this kind I have already touched. Among the special causes, we -should place the declension in the fundamental ideas of morals -and of politics between the time of Homer and the historic age. -With this we may reckon one which, though it may appear to -be technical, must, in all likelihood, have been most important, -namely, the physical necessities imposed by the fixed conditions -of dramatic representation among the Greeks<a name="FNanchor_1047_1047" id="FNanchor_1047_1047"></a><a href="#Footnote_1047_1047" class="fnanchor">[1047]</a>. Their theatres -were constructed on a scale, which may be called colossal as -compared with ours. Both polity and religion entered into -the institution of the stage. The intense nationality of their -life required a similar character in their plays, and likewise in -the places where they were to be represented. Not therefore -a particular company of auditors, but rather the whole public -of the city, where the representation took place, was to be -accommodated. In consequence, the dimensions of the buildings -exceeded the usual powers of the human eye and ear; so -that the figure was heightened by buskins, the countenance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_591" id="Page_591">[591]</a></span> -thrown into bolder and coarser outline by masks, and the voice -endowed with a great increase of power by acoustic contrivances -within the masks, as well as aided by the construction of -the buildings. All this was the more strictly requisite, because -the plays were acted in the open air.</p> - -<p>Now this general exaggeration of feature beyond the standard -of nature had an irresistible tendency to affect the mode in -which characters were modelled for representation; to cause -them to be laid out morally as well as physically in strong -outline, in masses large and comparatively coarse. The fine and -careful finishing of Homer required that those, who were to -recite him, should retain an entire and unfettered command -over the measure in which the bodily organs were to be employed. -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τύνη δ’ ὠμοΐιν</span> of Achilles to Patroclus might bear -to be spoken in a voice of thunder, and would absolutely require -the bard to use considerable exertion of the lungs; but the -scenes of Helen with Priam in the Third Book, of Hector with -Andromache in the Sixth, of Priam with Achilles in the Twenty-fourth, -would admit of no such treatment; and as these -passages could not themselves be rendered, so neither could -anything bearing a true analogy to Homer be given, unless -the actor had enjoyed full liberty to contract as well as expand -his own volume of sound, or unless he had enjoyed both easy -access, on any terms he pleased, to the ears of his audience, -and the full benefit of that most important assistance, which -the eye renders to the ear by observing the play of countenance -that accompanies delivery. King Lear, King John, -or Othello, could not have been represented more truly and -adequately in a Greek theatre, than the Achilles, or than the -Helen, of Homer. Those who have ever happened to discuss -with a deaf person a critical subject, requiring circumspect and -tender handling, will know how much the necessity for constant -tension of the voice restrains freedom in the expression of -thought, and mars its perfectness. The Greek actors lay under a -somewhat similar necessity, and to their necessities of course the -diction of the tragedians was, whether consciously or unconsciously, -adapted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_592" id="Page_592">[592]</a></span></p> - -<p>Let it, however, be borne in mind, that when we criticize the -conceptions of the Homeric characters by the later Greek -writers, it need not be with the supposition that we have eyes -to discern in Homer what they did not see. Their reproductions -must be taken to represent not so much the free dictates -of the mind and judgment of the later poets, as the conditions -of representation to which they were compelled to conform, -and the popular sentiments and opinions which, in the -character of popular writers, they could not but take for their -standard. The invention of printing has given a liberty and -independence to thought, at least in conjunction with poetry -and the drama, such as it could not possess while the poet, -in Athens for example, could sing in no other way but one, -namely, to the nation collected in a mass. The poet of modern -times may write for a minority of the public, nay, for a mere -handful of admirers, which is destined, yet only in after-years, -to grow like the mustard-seed of the parable. But the Athenian -dramatist was compelled to be the poet of the majority at -the moment, and to be carried on the stream of its sympathies, -however adverse its direction might be to that in which, if at -liberty to choose, he would himself have moved.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Obliteration of the finer distinctions.</i></div> - -<p>Accordingly, when we come to survey the literary history of -those great characters which the Poet gave as a perpetual possession -to the world, we find, naturally enough, that the flood -of the more recent traditions has long ago come in upon the -Homeric narrative, like the inundation brought by Neptune -and Apollo over the wall and trench of the Greeks. Like -every other deluge, in sweeping away the softer materials, -which give the more refined lines to the picture, it leaves the -comparatively hard and sharp ones harder and sharper than -ever. Thus it is with the Homeric characters, transplanted -into the later tradition. The broader distinctions of his personages -one from another have been not only retained, but exaggerated: -all the finer ones have disappeared. No one, deriving -his ideas from Homer only, could confound Diomed with Ajax, -or either with Agamemnon, or any of the three with Menelaus, -or any of the four with Achilles; but when we come down to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_593" id="Page_593">[593]</a></span> -the age of the tragedians, what remains to mark them, except -only for Agamemnon his office, and for Achilles his superiority -in physical strength? In the Homeric poems, the strong and -towering intellectual qualities even outweigh the great physical -and animal forces of his chief hero: by the usual predominance -in man of what is gross over what is fine, the principal and -higher parts of his character are afterwards suppressed, and it -becomes comparatively vulgarized. In the Ulysses of Homer, -again, the intellectual element predominates in such a manner, -that not even the most superficial reader can fail to perceive it. -He and Helen stand out in the Iliad from among others with -whom they might have been confounded; the first by virtue of -his self-mastery and sagacity, the second, not only by her beauty -and her fall, but by the singularly tender and ethereal shading -of her character. The later tradition, laying rude hands upon -the subtler distinctions thus established, has degraded these -two great characters, the one into little better than a stage -rogue, the other into little more than a stage voluptuary, who -adds to the guilt of that character the further and coarse enormities -of faithlessness, and even of bloodthirstiness.</p> - -<p>Even so soon as in the time of the Cyclical writers the character -of Helen had begun to be altered. In Homer she is the -victim of Paris, carried off from her home and country, and -only then yielding to his lust. In the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Κύπρια ἔπη</span>, as we have -that poem reported by Proclus, she begins by receiving his -gifts, that is to say, his bribes; she is an adulteress under her -husband’s roof; and she joins in plundering him, in order to -escape with her paramour.</p> - -<p>It is in Euripides that we find the largest and most diversified -reproduction of the old Homeric characters, and to him, therefore, -among the three tragedians, we should give our chief attention. -When we consider them as a whole, according to his -representation of them, we find that their entire primitive and -patriarchal colouring has gone. The manners are not those of -any age in particular; least of all are they the manners of a -very early age. And, as the entire company has lost its distinctive -type, so have the members of it when taken singly. -In the Troades, for example, Menelaus is simply the injured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_594" id="Page_594">[594]</a></span> -and exasperated husband; Helen is the faithless wife; and she -is kept up to a certain standard of dramatic importance in the -eye of the world only by another departure from the Homeric -picture, for she is armed with an enormous power of argument -and sophistry. By a similar appendage of ingenious disquisition, -the essentially plain and matronly qualities of Hecuba -have been overlaid and hidden. Achilles, in the Iphigenia, is -a gallant and a generous warrior; but we have neither the -grandeur of his tempestuous emotions as in Homer, nor, on the -other hand, any of that peculiar refinement with which they -are in so admirable a manner both blended and set in contrast. -Agamemnon has lost, in Euripides, his vacillation and misgivings, -and is the average and, so to speak, rounded king and -warrior, instead of the mixed and particoloured, but in no -sense common-place, character that Homer has made him. -Though Andromache is a passionately fond mother, she has -nothing whatever that identifies her as the original Andromache. -Indeed, of the Homeric women, it may be said that in -Euripides they have ceased to be womanly; they have in general -nothing of that adjective character (if the phrase may be -allowed), that ever leaning and clinging attitude, to which support -from without is a moral necessity, and which so profoundly -marks them all in Homer. Again, Iphigenia, Cassandra, -Polyxena, who are either scarcely or not at all Homeric, have -now become grand heroines, with unbounded stage-effect; but -there is no stage-effect at all in Homer’s Helen, or in his Andromache. -Andromache, for example, is not elaborately drawn. -She is rather a product of Homer’s character and feeling, than -of his art. She is simply what Tennyson in his ‘Isabel’ calls -‘the stately flower of perfect wifehood.’ In her simplicity, the -true idea of her might easily have been preserved by the later -literature, had the conception of woman as such remained -morally the same. But the Andromache of Homer was doomed -to deteriorate, on account of her purity, as his Achilles, his -Ulysses, his Helen degenerated, because the flights of such high -genius could not be sustained, and weaker wings drooped down -to a lower level. As Hecuba was the aged matron of the -Iliad, and Helen its mixed type of woman, so Andromache was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_595" id="Page_595">[595]</a></span> -the young mother and the wife. Her one only thought lay in -her husband and her child; but in the Troades, wordy and -diffuse, she discusses, in a most business-like manner, the question -whether she shall or shall not transfer her affections to the -new lord, whose property she has become. She ends, indeed, by -deciding the question rightly; but it is one that the Homeric -Andromache never could have entertained.</p> - -<p>Three, however, among the Homeric characters, have been -mangled by the later tradition much more cruelly than any -others; they are those prime efforts of his mighty genius, -Helen, Achilles, and Ulysses. The first, most probably, on -account of the wonderful delicacy with which in Homer it is -moulded: the others on account of their singular comprehensiveness -and breadth of scope. Each of these three cases well -deserves particular consideration.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Mutilation of the Helen of Homer.</i></div> - -<p>In the case of Helen, the extreme tenderness of the colouring, -that Homer has employed, multiplied infinitely the chances -against its preservation. Among all the women of antiquity, -she is by nature the most feminine, the finest in grain, though, -as in many other instances, a certain slightness of texture is -essentially connected with this fineness. Her natural softness is -very greatly deepened by the double effect of her affliction and -her repentance. A quiet and settled sadness broods over her -whole image, and comes out not only when she weeps by the -body of Hector, or when her husband’s presence reminds her -of her offence, but even under the genial smiles and soothing -words of old Priam on the wall. Vehement and agonizing passion -draws deep strong lines, which, even in copies, may be easily -caught and easily preserved; it is quite different with the profound -though low-toned suffering, of which the passive influence, -the penetrating tint, circulates as it were in every vein, -and issues into view at every pore.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Helen of Euripides, Isocrates, Virgil.</i></div> - -<p>Let us now consider how the character of Helen reappears -in Euripides, in Isocrates, and in Virgil.</p> - -<p>In the Agamemnon, Æschylus had designated her under the -form of a pun, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑλέναυς ἑλεπτόλις</span>; and these phrases, as they -stand, cannot be said in any manner to force us beyond the -limits of the Homeric tradition. But in the Hecuba she is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_596" id="Page_596">[596]</a></span> -cursed outright by the Chorus, and represented by Hecuba -herself as having been the great agent, instead of the passive -occasion and the suffering instrument, in the calamitous fall of -Troy<a name="FNanchor_1048_1048" id="FNanchor_1048_1048"></a><a href="#Footnote_1048_1048" class="fnanchor">[1048]</a>. In the Troades she is the shame of the country, the -slayer of Priam, the willing fugitive from Sparta<a name="FNanchor_1049_1049" id="FNanchor_1049_1049"></a><a href="#Footnote_1049_1049" class="fnanchor">[1049]</a>. Andromache -denounces her in the fiercest manner, and gives her for -her ancestors not Jupiter, but Death, Slaughter, Vengeance, -Jealousy, and all the evils upon earth<a name="FNanchor_1050_1050" id="FNanchor_1050_1050"></a><a href="#Footnote_1050_1050" class="fnanchor">[1050]</a>. Menelaus is furiously -enraged, calls on his attendants to drag her in by her blood-guilty -hair, will not give her the name of wife, will send her to -Lacedæmon<a name="FNanchor_1051_1051" id="FNanchor_1051_1051"></a><a href="#Footnote_1051_1051" class="fnanchor">[1051]</a>, there herself to die as a satisfaction to those -whose death she has guiltily brought about. When she asks -whether she may be heard in defence of herself, he answers -summarily, no:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐκ ἐς λόγους ἐλήλυθ’, ἀλλά σε κτενῶν</span><a name="FNanchor_1052_1052" id="FNanchor_1052_1052"></a><a href="#Footnote_1052_1052" class="fnanchor">[1052]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>She then delivers a sophistical speech<a name="FNanchor_1053_1053" id="FNanchor_1053_1053"></a><a href="#Footnote_1053_1053" class="fnanchor">[1053]</a>, and pleads, that she -could not be guilty in yielding to a passion which even Jupiter -could not resist, while she retaliates abuse on Menelaus for -leaving her exposed to temptation. <i>Quantum mutata!</i> As respects -Deiphobus, however, she declares that she only yielded -to force, and that she was often detected, after the death of -Paris, in endeavours to escape over the wall to the Greeks.</p> - -<p>We have moreover an example, in the Helen painted by -Euripides, of the rude manner in which characters not understood, -and taken to be inconsistent by an age which had failed -to understand them, were torn in pieces, and how the several -fragments started anew, each for itself, on the stream of tradition. -In Homer we have the touching contrast between the -chastity of Helen’s mind, and the unlawful condition in which -she lived. The latter, taken separately, was presumed to imply -an unchaste soul; the former a lawful condition. Instead therefore -of the one narrative, we have two; a shade or counterfeit -of Helen plays the part of the adulteress with Paris, while the -true and living Helen remains concealed in Egypt, keeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_597" id="Page_597">[597]</a></span> -pure her husband’s bed, so that, though her name has become -infamous, her body may remain untainted. This latter tradition -is chiefly valuable, because it marks the mode of transition -from the Homeric to the spurious representations, and the consciousness -of the early poets, that they were not preserving the -image drawn by Homer. No scheme, however, constructed of -such flimsy materials, could live; and, naturally enough, the -character of Helen the wife was forgotten, that of Helen the -voluptuary was preserved.</p> - -<p>From the vituperation and disgrace of Helen in most of the -plays of Euripides, we pass to the elaborate panegyric handed -down to us in the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἐγκώμιον</span> of Isocrates. The falsehood eulogistic -is not less unsatisfying than the falsehood damnatory. -For now, with the lapse of time, we find a further depression -of the moral standard. We have here, in its most absolute -form, the deification of beauty<a name="FNanchor_1054_1054" id="FNanchor_1054_1054"></a><a href="#Footnote_1054_1054" class="fnanchor">[1054]</a>; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὃ σεμνότατον, καὶ τιμιώτατον, -καὶ θειότατον τῶν ὄντων ἔστιν</span><a name="FNanchor_1055_1055" id="FNanchor_1055_1055"></a><a href="#Footnote_1055_1055" class="fnanchor">[1055]</a>. But it is totally disjoined from -purity. He does not warrant and support his eulogy upon -Helen, by recurring to the true Homeric representation of -her; but he boldly declares the high value of sensual enjoyment<a name="FNanchor_1056_1056" id="FNanchor_1056_1056"></a><a href="#Footnote_1056_1056" class="fnanchor">[1056]</a>, -commends the ambition of Paris to acquire an unrivalled -possession and thereby a close affinity with the gods, and sees -in the war only a proof of the immense and just estimation in -which both parties held so great a treasure<a name="FNanchor_1057_1057" id="FNanchor_1057_1057"></a><a href="#Footnote_1057_1057" class="fnanchor">[1057]</a>, without the -smallest scruple as to the means by which it was to be acquired -or held. From this picture we may pass on to the Helen of -Virgil, which represents the destructive process in its last stage -of exaggeration, and leaves nothing more for the spirit of -havoc to devise.</p> - -<p>In Æn. i. 650, Helen is declared to have <i>sought</i> Troy and -unlawful nuptials, instead of having been carried off from home -against her will. In Æn. vi. 513, she is represented as having -made use of the religious orgies on the fatal night, to invite -the Greeks into Troy; and, after first carefully removing all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_598" id="Page_598">[598]</a></span> -weapons for defence, she is said to have opened the apartment -of her sleeping husband Deiphobus to Menelaus, in the hope -that, by becoming accessory to a treacherous murder, she might -disarm the resentment of one whom she had so deeply wronged. -But even this passage has probably done less towards occupying -the modern mind with the falsified idea of Helen, than one -of most extraordinary scenic grandeur in the second Æneid; -where Æneas relates how he saw her, the common curse of her -own country and of Troy, crouching beside the altar of Vesta, -amidst the lurid flames of the final conflagration, in order to -escape the wrath of Menelaus.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Illa sibi infestos eversa ob Pergama Teucros</div> - <div class="verse">Et pœnas Danaûm et deserti conjugis iras</div> - <div class="verse">Præmetuens, Trojæ et patriæ communis Erynnis,</div> - <div class="verse">Abdiderat sese, atque aris invisa sedebat.</div> -</div><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4"><span class="smcap">Æn.</span> ii. 571-4.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And then, in language, the glowing magnificence of which -serves to hide the very paltry character of the sentiment, -Æneas proceeds to announce that he was about to slay the -woman who, according to himself, had lived for ten years as -a friend among his friends; when, at the right moment, his -mother Venus appeared, and reminded him that on the whole -he might do rather better to think about saving, if possible, his -own father, wife, and boy.</p> - -<p>Thus, in the Helen of Virgil, we have splendid personal -beauty combined with an accumulation of the most profoundly -odious moral features. She is lost in sensuality, a traitress -alike to Greece and to Troy, willing to make miserable victims -of others in the hope of purchasing her own immunity: all her -deep remorse and sorrow, all her tenderness and modesty, are -blotted out from her character, and the void places in the -picture are filled by the detestation, with which both Greeks -and Trojans regarded, as indeed they might well regard, such -a monster. But let us pass on.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Achilles and Ulysses.</i></div> - -<p>Among the many proofs of the vast scope of Homer’s mind, -one of the most remarkable is to be found in the twin characters -of his prime heroes or protagonists. It seems as if he -had taken a survey of human nature in its utmost breadth and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_599" id="Page_599">[599]</a></span> -depth, and, finding that he had not the means to establish a -perfect equilibrium between its highest powers when all in full -development, had determined to represent them, with reference -to the two great functions of intellect and passion, in two immortal -figures. In each of the two, each of these elements -has been represented with an extraordinary power, yet so, that -the sovereignty should rest in Achilles as to the one, and in -Ulysses as to the other. But the depth of emotion in Ulysses -is greater than in any other male character of the poems, except -Achilles; only it is withdrawn from view because so much -under the mastery of his wisdom. And in like manner on the -other hand, a far greater power, directed to the purpose of -self-command and self-repression, is shown us in Achilles than -in any other character except Ulysses; but this also is under -partial eclipse, because the injustice, ingratitude, scorn, and -meanness which Agamemnon concentrates in the robbery of -a beloved object from him, appeal so irresistibly to the passionate -side of his nature as to bring it out in overpowering -proportions.</p> - -<p>These being the leading ideas of the two characters, Homer -has equipped each of them with the apparatus of a full-furnished -man; and in apportioning to each his share of other qualities -and accomplishments, he has made such a distribution as on -the whole would give the best balance and the most satisfactory -general result. Thus it is plain that the character of Achilles, -covering as it did volcanic passions, was in danger of degenerating -into phrensy. Homer has, therefore, assigned to him a -peculiar refinement. His leisure is beguiled with song, consecrated -to the achievements of ancient heroes; he has the -finest tact, and is by far the greatest gentleman, of all the -warriors of the poems; even personal ornaments to set off his -transcendent beauty<a name="FNanchor_1058_1058" id="FNanchor_1058_1058"></a><a href="#Footnote_1058_1058" class="fnanchor">[1058]</a> are not beneath his notice, a trait which -would have been misplaced in Ulysses, ludicrous in Ajax, and -which is in Paris contemptible, but which has its advantage in -Achilles, because it is a simple accessory subordinate to greater -matters, and because, so far as it goes, it is a weight placed in -the scale opposite to that which threatens to preponderate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_600" id="Page_600">[600]</a></span> -and to mar by the strong vein of violence the general harmony -of the character.</p> - -<p>In the same way, as Ulysses is distinguished by a never-failing -presence of mind, forethought, and mastery over emotion, -so the danger for him lies on the side of an undue predominance -of the calculating element, which threatens to reduce -him from the heroic standard to the low level of a vulgar utilitarianism. -Here, as before, Homer has been ready with his -remedies. He exhibits to us this great prince and statesman as -bearing also a character of patriarchal simplicity, and makes -him, the profoundest and most astute man of the world, represent -the very childhood of the human race in his readiness to -ply the sickle or to drive the plough<a name="FNanchor_1059_1059" id="FNanchor_1059_1059"></a><a href="#Footnote_1059_1059" class="fnanchor">[1059]</a>. Above all—and this is -the prime safeguard of his character—he makes Ulysses a model -for Greece of steady unvarying brightness in the domestic affections. -The emotion of Hector in the Sixth Iliad, and of Priam -in the Twenty-fourth, are not capable of comparison with those -of Ulysses, because theirs constitute the central points of the -characters, and likewise are the products of great junctures of -danger and affliction respectively, while his exhibit and indeed -compose a settled and standing bent of his soul. He alone, of -all the chieftains who were beneath the walls of Troy, is full of -the near recollection of his son, his Telemachus<a name="FNanchor_1060_1060" id="FNanchor_1060_1060"></a><a href="#Footnote_1060_1060" class="fnanchor">[1060]</a>; his desire -and ambition never pass indeed beyond barren Ithaca, and his -daily thought through long years of wandering and detention -is to return there<a name="FNanchor_1061_1061" id="FNanchor_1061_1061"></a><a href="#Footnote_1061_1061" class="fnanchor">[1061]</a>, to see the very smoke curling upward from -its chimneys, so that the charms of a goddess are a pain to him, -because they keep him from Penelope<a name="FNanchor_1062_1062" id="FNanchor_1062_1062"></a><a href="#Footnote_1062_1062" class="fnanchor">[1062]</a>.</p> - -<p>Such was the care with which, in each of these great and -wonderful characters, Homer provided against an exclusive -predominance of their leading trait. But in vain. Achilles too, -more slowly however than his rival, passed, with later authors, -into the wild beast; Ulysses descended at a leap into the mere -shopman of politics and war; and it is singular to see how, -when once the basis of the character had been vulgarized, and -the key to its movements lost, it came to be drawn in attitudes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_601" id="Page_601">[601]</a></span> -the most opposed to even the broadest and most undeniable of -the Homeric traits.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Mutilation of the Ulysses of Homer.</i></div> - -<p>There is nothing in the political character of Ulysses more -remarkable, than his power of setting himself in sole action -against a multitude; whether we take him in the government -of his refractory crew during his wanderings; or in the body -of the Horse, when a sound would have ruined the enterprize -of the Greeks, so that he had to lay his strong hand over the -jaws of the babbler Anticlus<a name="FNanchor_1063_1063" id="FNanchor_1063_1063"></a><a href="#Footnote_1063_1063" class="fnanchor">[1063]</a>; or in the stern preliminaries to -his final revenge upon the Suitors; or in his war with his rebellious -subjects; or, above all, in the desperate crisis of the Second -Iliad, when by his fearless courage, decision, and activity he -saves the Greek army from total and shameful failure. And -yet, much as the Mahometans<a name="FNanchor_1064_1064" id="FNanchor_1064_1064"></a><a href="#Footnote_1064_1064" class="fnanchor">[1064]</a> were railed at by the poets of -Italy, indeed of England, in the character of image-worshippers, -so Ulysses is held up to scorn in Euripides as a mere waiter -upon popular favour. Thus in the Hecuba he is</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent14">ὁ ποικιλόφρων,</div> - <div class="verse">κόπις, ἡδύλογος, δημοχαρίστης.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Now, when the most glaring and characteristic facts of the -narrative of Homer can be thus boldly traversed, there is -scarcely room for astonishment at any other kind of misrepresentation. -As when Hecuba laments, in the Troades<a name="FNanchor_1065_1065" id="FNanchor_1065_1065"></a><a href="#Footnote_1065_1065" class="fnanchor">[1065]</a>, that -her lot is to be the captive of the base, faithless, malignant, all-stinging -maker of mischief. Such is the standing type of -Ulysses in the after-tradition. Whenever anything bad, cruel, -and above all mean, is to be done, he is the ever-ready, and -indeed thoroughly Satanic, instrument.</p> - -<p>The Second Epistle of the First Book of Horace is full of -interest with reference to this subject, because in it he gives us -the result of his recent re-perusal of the Homeric poems at -Præneste. And, accordingly, we find here a great improvement -upon the Ulysses of the Greek drama. He seems to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_602" id="Page_602">[602]</a></span> -struck Horace at this time more forcibly, or more favourably, -than any other Homeric character; for, after describing in -strong terms what was amiss both within and without the walls -of Troy, he makes this transition<a name="FNanchor_1066_1066" id="FNanchor_1066_1066"></a><a href="#Footnote_1066_1066" class="fnanchor">[1066]</a>;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Rursus, quid virtus et quid sapientia possit,</div> - <div class="verse">Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssen.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>He considers this hero as the conqueror of Troy, and notices -his self-restraint and indomitable courage in adversity. Such -was the advantage of an impression fresh from the Homeric -text, instead of those drawn from the muddy source of the -current traditions. It does not diminish but enhances the -compliment, when the acute but Epicurean writer goes on to -intimate, in more than half-earnest, that these virtues of -Ulysses were too high for imitation, and that he himself was -content rather to emulate the suitors of Penelope, and the -easy life of the youths about Alcinous<a name="FNanchor_1067_1067" id="FNanchor_1067_1067"></a><a href="#Footnote_1067_1067" class="fnanchor">[1067]</a>.</p> - -<p>But if some small instalment of justice was thus done by -Horace to the Homeric Ulysses, Virgil withdrew the boon, -and was careful to reproduce, without mitigation or relief, the -worst features of the worst form of the character. With him -it is Ulysses who is chosen to play the slayer of Palamedes -and the betrayer of Sinon<a name="FNanchor_1068_1068" id="FNanchor_1068_1068"></a><a href="#Footnote_1068_1068" class="fnanchor">[1068]</a>, and to lead the party which, -conducted by Helen, was to massacre Deiphobus in his chamber<a name="FNanchor_1069_1069" id="FNanchor_1069_1069"></a><a href="#Footnote_1069_1069" class="fnanchor">[1069]</a>. -On account of his fierce cruelty, even the ‘ground is cursed -for his sake;’ poor Ithaca is loaded with imprecations by -Æneas as he passes near it. Once he is called <i>infelix</i>, the -greatest compliment that he anywhere receives; but his name -in few cases escapes the affix of some abusive epithet, drawn -alike from inhumanity or from cunning, it seems to matter -little from which<a name="FNanchor_1070_1070" id="FNanchor_1070_1070"></a><a href="#Footnote_1070_1070" class="fnanchor">[1070]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Of the Achilles of Homer.</i></div> - -<p>The character of Achilles was more fortunate, in the handling -it experienced from the Greek drama, than that of Ulysses. -In the Iphigenia of Euripides, the hero of the Iliad appears as -a faithful lover, and as a gallant and chivalrous warrior. At -the same time, it has lost altogether the breadth of touch and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_603" id="Page_603">[603]</a></span> -largeness of scope, with which it is drawn in Homer. We miss -entirely that unfathomable power of intellect, of passion, and -also of bodily force, all combined in one figure, which carry the -Achilles of Homer beyond every other human example in the -quality of sheer grandeur, and make it touch the limits of the -superhuman. There is nothing said or done by the Achilles -of Euripides, nothing reported of him or assigned to him, no -impression borne into a reader’s mind concerning him, which -would not have been perfectly suitable to other warriors; for -example, to the Diomed of Homer. He falls back into a class, -and becomes a simple member of it, instead of being a creation -paramount and alone; alone, like Olympus amidst the mountains -of Greece; alone for ever in his sublimity, amidst the famous -memories of other heroes, no less truly than he was alone in his -solitary encampment during the continuance of the Wrath.</p> - -<p>With Pindar Achilles appears in a different dress. He is -here conceived without mind, as a youth marvellous in strength, -hardihood, and swiftness of foot, growing up into a mighty -warrior<a name="FNanchor_1071_1071" id="FNanchor_1071_1071"></a><a href="#Footnote_1071_1071" class="fnanchor">[1071]</a>. The Achilles of Pindar is but as a pebble broken -away from the mountain-mass of Homer.</p> - -<p>Catullus, in his beautiful poem on the Nuptials of Peleus -and Thetis, had a rare opportunity of setting forth the glories -of Achilles. And he is in fact made the main subject of the -nuptial song, properly so called; yet nothing of him is really -celebrated by the poet<a name="FNanchor_1072_1072" id="FNanchor_1072_1072"></a><a href="#Footnote_1072_1072" class="fnanchor">[1072]</a>, except his valour and his swiftness; -all the rest is simple amplification and embellishment. It -seems by this time to have been wholly forgotten, that the -Homeric Achilles had a soul.</p> - -<p>The discernment of Horace did not here enable him, as it had -enabled him before, to escape from the popular delusions,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Scriptor honoratum si forte reponis Achillem,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis</span><a name="FNanchor_1073_1073" id="FNanchor_1073_1073"></a><a href="#Footnote_1073_1073" class="fnanchor">[1073]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_604" id="Page_604">[604]</a></span></p> - -<p>The character is exhibited here in a light at once feeble and -misleading, for its cardinal point is made to be the supremacy -of force over right. Now in Homer it is a sense that right has -been deeply violated, which serves for the very groundwork -out of which his exasperation rises. He does not view the question -as one of <i>meum</i> and <i>tuum</i> only, or even mainly. His eye -is first upon the gross wrong done, and only then upon himself -as the subject of it. He resists Agamemnon’s claim<a name="FNanchor_1074_1074" id="FNanchor_1074_1074"></a><a href="#Footnote_1074_1074" class="fnanchor">[1074]</a> for a compensation -at the very first, when it is urged, not against him, -but against the Greeks at large<a name="FNanchor_1075_1075" id="FNanchor_1075_1075"></a><a href="#Footnote_1075_1075" class="fnanchor">[1075]</a>; and he bursts out into indignant -vituperation of the greedy king before Agamemnon has -threatened to take Briseis, and when he has only insisted that, -if the Greeks do not compensate him, he will then help himself -to the prize <i>either</i> of Achilles or of Ajax or of Ulysses. In -truth he is the assertor of the supremacy of law over will, -much more than of force over law; and there is the greatest -difference between pushing a sound and true principle even to -gross excess, and proceeding from the outset upon a false one. -The former, not the latter, is the case of the Achilles of the -Iliad.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Achilles of Statius.</i></div> - -<p>The poet Statius observed, with sagacity enough, that the -Achilles of Homer was but a <i>torso</i>; that the Iliad had only -allowed him to be exhibited in one light, as it were, and at -a single juncture of his career. So he resolved to profit by the -ungotten mine, and to found a poem on the whole Achilles, child -and man, in his rising, at his zenith, and in his setting blaze;</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Nos ire per omnem</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">(Sic amor est) heroa velis ...</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">... sed totâ juvenem deducere Trojâ</span><a name="FNanchor_1076_1076" id="FNanchor_1076_1076"></a><a href="#Footnote_1076_1076" class="fnanchor">[1076]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We are therefore perhaps entitled to expect from him a fuller -and more comprehensive grasp of the character than was -usual, even although the narrative is broken off. The five -books which remain of this work do not bring him so far as to -the plains of Troy; but we leave him on the voyage from -Scyros to Troas. They are chiefly occupied, therefore, with -his residence there in the disguise of a maiden, and with the -incidents of his sojourn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_605" id="Page_605">[605]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now the story of Achilles at Scyros, and of his connexion -with Deidamia, harmonizes with one side of his character as it -is drawn in Homer. It is evident that his personal beauty was -not less graceful than manful; and he alone of the Greek chieftains -is related to have worn ornaments of gold. Therefore -that in the days of his boyhood he should wear the dress of -maidens, and pass for one of them, is at any rate in accordance -with a particular point of the Homeric tradition, though little -adequate to its lofty tone as a whole. But this particular -point is just what Statius contrives wholly to let drop. He -shows us Achilles like the sham Anne Page, in the Merry Wives -of Windsor<a name="FNanchor_1077_1077" id="FNanchor_1077_1077"></a><a href="#Footnote_1077_1077" class="fnanchor">[1077]</a>, ‘as a great lubberly boy,’ neither careful nor able -to give any grace to the movement of his limbs. For, in the -dance, he would break the heart of any rightminded master of -the ceremonies:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="la" xml:lang="la" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Nec servare vices, nec jungere brachia, curat:</div> - <div class="verse">Tunc molles gressus, tunc aspernatur amictus</div> - <div class="verse">Plus solito, rumpitque choros, et plurima turbat.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Nor does this writer appear at all to have apprehended the -main ideas of the Homeric character. In the Iliad, the education -which Achilles receives is the ordinary education of men -of his rank, and his transcendent powers in after-life are due -to a just, yet no more than a just, development of his extraordinary -original gifts. But in Statius he is represented as -having owed everything to the peculiar training of Chiron; -whose semiferine life he shared, so that his diet in childhood -consisted of the raw entrails of lions, and the marrow of half-dead -she-wolves! His mind, indeed, was not overlooked -amidst these brutalities, for he exhausts a long catalogue of -acquirements; but Statius, as might be expected, completely -drops out of his political education what is its one grand element -in Homer, namely, the art of government over man by -speech. Instead of this, Chiron the Centaur merely teaches -him those abstract rules of right, by which he had himself -been wont to govern Centaurs<a name="FNanchor_1078_1078" id="FNanchor_1078_1078"></a><a href="#Footnote_1078_1078" class="fnanchor">[1078]</a>.</p> - -<p>To the same age with the <i>Achilleis</i> of Statius belongs the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_606" id="Page_606">[606]</a></span> -<i>Troades</i> of Seneca. However this play may be criticized, as a -study, like the others of the same author, for the closet only, -and however it may betray the choice of Euripides for a model, -it seems to be by some degrees better, in the conception and use -of some famous Homeric characters, than any production since -the time of Æschylus. The delineation of Andromache, if it has -not ceased to be theatrical, is full at least of intense affection, -all still centring in Hector. Ulysses, though reviled by that -matron in her passionate grief, at least does the humane action -of allowing her a little time to weep before the sentence of Calchas -is executed upon Astyanax, and shows something too of -the intellect of his antitype<a name="FNanchor_1079_1079" id="FNanchor_1079_1079"></a><a href="#Footnote_1079_1079" class="fnanchor">[1079]</a>. Helen is exhibited not as vicious, -but as wanting in firmness of character. She is driven by solicitation -into the offence of alluring Polyxena to her immolation, -under the name of a bridal with Neoptolemus; commences the -performance of this false part with self-reproach, and then, -challenged by Andromache, quits it and avows the truth<a name="FNanchor_1080_1080" id="FNanchor_1080_1080"></a><a href="#Footnote_1080_1080" class="fnanchor">[1080]</a>.</p> - -<p>But here we find a new form of departure from the ancient -and genuine tradition. The principal motive, assigned by Seneca -to the Greeks for putting Astyanax to death, is a terrified -recollection of his father Hector, and a dread lest, upon attaining -to manhood, he should avenge his own country against -Greece. Again, Andromache, as it were, intimidates Ulysses, -by invoking the shade of her husband:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Rumpe fatorum moras;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Molire terras, Hector, ut Ulyssen domes!</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Vel umbra satis es</span><a name="FNanchor_1081_1081" id="FNanchor_1081_1081"></a><a href="#Footnote_1081_1081" class="fnanchor">[1081]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>A strange inversion of the relations drawn by Homer.</p> - -<p>During all the time, however, in which we moved among the -Greeks and among the earlier Romans, the corrupting process -acted only upon each of the Homeric creations by itself, and -there was no cause at work, which went to alter and pervert -wholesale their collective relations to one another.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>New relative position of Trojans and Greeks.</i></div> - -<p>But from the period when the Æneid appeared, or at least -so soon as it became the normal poem of the Roman literature, -a new cause was in operation which, without mitigating in any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_607" id="Page_607">[607]</a></span> -degree the previous depraving agencies, introduced a new set -of them, and began to disturb the positions of the two grand -sets of characters, Greek and Trojan, relatively to one another.</p> - -<p>Virgil had sought to give to the Cæsars the advantage of a -hold upon royal antiquity by fabulous descent. He had before -him the choice between Greece and Troy, which alike and -alone enjoyed a world-wide honour. He could not hesitate -which to select. The Greek histories were too near and too -well known. Besides, the Greek dynasties generally had -dwindled before they disappeared. The splendour of the Pelopids -in particular had been quenched in calamity and crime, -and no other of the Homeric lines had attained to greatness in -political influence or historic fame. But the family of Priam -had fallen gloriously in fighting for hearth and altar: it had -disappeared from history in its full renown, ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la"><i>Magna</i> mei sub -terras ibat imago.</span>’ Virgil chose too the house which was most -ancient, and which traced link by link, as that of Agamemnon -did not, a known and a named lineage up to Jupiter.</p> - -<p>From this cause, both in the Æneid itself and afterwards, -the Trojan characters were set upon stilts, and the Greeks -were left to take their chance. Besides the loss of equilibrium, -and the allowed predominance of coarser elements, which we -have to lament in the Greek handling of them, we now see -them pass, with the Romans, even into insignificance. The -Diomed of Arpi is a person wholly unmarked; and he, like all -the rest of his countrymen, is treated by Virgil simply as an -instrument for obtaining enhanced effect, in the interest that -he endeavours to concentrate on his Trojan characters; whereas -the key to all Homer’s dispositions in the Iliad is to be found -in the recollection, that he dealt with everything Trojan in the -manner which was recommended and required by his Greek -nationality. From this time forward, we find the palm both of -valour and of wisdom clean carried over from the Greek to the -Trojan side: the heroes of Homer remain, like unhewn boulders -on the plain, crude, gross, and reciprocally almost indistinguishable -masses of cunning or ferocity.</p> - -<p>Virgil gave the tone in this respect, not only to the literature -of ancient Rome, but to that of Christian Italy. For this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_608" id="Page_608">[608]</a></span> -reason, we may presume, among others, Orlando, the prime -hero of the Italian romance, is, as I have before observed, modelled -upon Hector. He is in many respects a very grand -conception. Pulci, in describing his death, rises even to the -sublime when he says there is</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Un Dio, ed una Fede, ed uno Orlando</span>.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Which we may render in prose ‘One God, one way to God, -one true type of manhood.’ Still it is remarkable that in -Bojardo, as well as in Ariosto, the purer traces of the Homeric -arrangement thus far at least remain, that Orlando, although -he is the type of the Christian chivalry, yet, as he resembles -Hector in piety and virtue, so likewise retains his likeness in -this respect, that he is not the most formidable or valiant warrior -of the poems. In Ariosto particularly, he is made inferior -to Mandricardo, to Rodomonte, and most of all, but this for -personal and prudential reasons, to Ruggiero. These three -perhaps may be considered as being respectively the Ajax, the -Diomed, and the Achilles of the <i>Orlando Furioso</i>.</p> - -<p>And now the fancy for derivation from a Trojan stock, of -which Virgil had set the fashion, was fully developed. Ariosto, -at great length and in the most formal manner, establishes this -lineage for his patrons, the family of Este. Others followed -him. The humour passed even beyond the limits of Italy, into -these then remote isles. A Trojan origin was ascribed to the -English nation, and the authority of Homer, as to characters -and history, was openly renounced by Dryden.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘My faithful scene from true records shall tell</div> - <div class="verse">How Trojan valour did the Greek excel:</div> - <div class="verse">Your great forefathers shall their fame regain,</div> - <div class="verse">And Homer’s angry ghost repine in vain<a name="FNanchor_1082_1082" id="FNanchor_1082_1082"></a><a href="#Footnote_1082_1082" class="fnanchor">[1082]</a>.’</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In Oxford, at the revival of classical letters, the name of <i>Trojans</i> -was assumed by those who were adverse to the new Greek -studies, and who, having nothing but a name to rely on, doubtless -chose the best they could.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_609" id="Page_609">[609]</a></span></p> -<div class="sidenote"><i>The Imitations by Tasso.</i></div> - -<p>Throughout the ‘Jerusalem’ of Tasso, we find imitations which -are invested with greater interest than the remote copies commonly -in circulation, because, from the large infusion of many -leading arrangements, copied from Homer, into the plot of the -poem, we may conclude with reason that they were in all likelihood -drawn immediately from the original. Some of these -personages, too, are in so far closely imitated from Homer, that -Tasso has spent little or nothing of his own upon them, but has -simply equipped them with as much of the Homeric idea as he -thought available.</p> - -<p>The most successful among them is Godfrey, modelled, but -also perhaps improved, upon Agamemnon, who is by no means -in my view one of the greater characters of the Iliad, though -he has been incautiously called by Mitford ‘ambitious, active, -brave, generous, and humane<a name="FNanchor_1083_1083" id="FNanchor_1083_1083"></a><a href="#Footnote_1083_1083" class="fnanchor">[1083]</a>.’ Agamemnon has indeed that -primary and fundamental qualification for his office, the political -spirit, so to term it, and the sense of responsibility, which are -so well developed in Godfrey; but it is doubtful whether he is -entitled to be called either thoroughly brave, or at all generous -or humane. Agamemnon’s character is admirably adapted to -its place and purpose in the Iliad; in any more general view, -Godfrey’s both stands higher in the moral sphere, and perhaps -forms by itself a better poetic whole.</p> - -<p>While the action of Achilles in the Iliad is apparently assigned -to Rinaldo, there is room to doubt whether Tasso meant -the person or character of his hero to carry corresponding -marks of resemblance. In what may be called a by-place of -his poem, he has made a passing attempt to reproduce both -Achilles and Ulysses under the names of Argante and Alete, -who appear as envoys from the Sultan of Egypt to the -Frankish camp. For the benefit of the former, Tasso has -translated the two lines that describe Achilles in Horace, and -has added a spice of the Virgilian Mezentius:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Impaziente, inesorabil, fero,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nell’ arme infaticabil ed invitto,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">D’ ogni Dio sprezzatore, e chi ripone</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Nella spada sua legge e sua ragione</span><a name="FNanchor_1084_1084" id="FNanchor_1084_1084"></a><a href="#Footnote_1084_1084" class="fnanchor">[1084]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_610" id="Page_610">[610]</a></span></p> - -<p>Accordingly, Argante proves to be the prime warrior on the -Pagan side, and his character, described in these lines, is consistently -carried through.</p> - -<p>It is perhaps not to be regretted, that Tasso has left on record -no other mark that Achilles was in his mind; for it is only the -most debased edition of Achilles to whom Argante bears the -slightest resemblance. The same is the case with Alete. Of -humble origin, he rises to high honours by his powers of invention -and of speech, and by the pliability of his character. Prompt -in fiction, adroit in laying snares, a master of the disguised calumnies -‘<i>che sono accuse, e pajon lodi</i><a name="FNanchor_1085_1085" id="FNanchor_1085_1085"></a><a href="#Footnote_1085_1085" class="fnanchor">[1085]</a>,’ he evidently recalls the -caricatures, which for two thousand years had circulated under -the name of the Homeric Ulysses. Thus Tasso’s acquaintance -with the text, whatever it may have been, did not avail to open -his eyes, darkened by corrupt tradition, or to bring him nearer -to the truth as regarded those sovereign creations of the genius -of Homer. So sure it is, both in this and in other matters, -that when long-established falsehoods have had habitual and -undisturbed possession of the public mind, they form an atmosphere -which we inhale long before consciousness begins. -Hence the spurious colours with which we have thus been surreptitiously -imbued, long survive the power, or even the act, of -recurrence to the original standards. For that recurrence -rarely takes place with such a concentration of the mind as is -necessary in order to the double process, first, of disentangling -itself from the snares of a false conception, and secondly, of -building up for itself, and this too from the very ground, a -true one.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Shakespeare and Chaucer.</i></div> - -<p>In the Troilus and Cressida, of which Shakespeare had at -least a share, we see, perhaps, one of the lowest and latest pictures -of mere mediæval Homerism. The sun of the ancient criticism -had set; that of the modern had not risen. It must be admitted -that, in this play, although it shows the clear handiwork -of Shakespeare in some splendid passages, and much of beautiful -and of characteristic diction, we scarcely find one single -living trait of the father of all bards preserved. Our incomparable -dramatist, by no fault of his own, came in at the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_611" id="Page_611">[611]</a></span> -end of that depraved lineage of copyists, for which progressive -degeneracy is the necessary law. As is said<a name="FNanchor_1086_1086" id="FNanchor_1086_1086"></a><a href="#Footnote_1086_1086" class="fnanchor">[1086]</a>, he followed -Lydgate; Lydgate drew from a Guido of Messina, who in the -thirteenth century founded himself on Dictys Cretensis and -Dares Phrygius.</p> - -<p>Before his time Chaucer, we may presume, had drawn from -the same sources. Yet his poem of ‘Troilus and Cressida’ -bears a token of the familiarity of the English mind with free -institutions under the Plantagenets. The fidelity with which -traditions are preserved, and also the facility with which they -are revived, no doubt often depends more upon moral sympathies, -than upon any cause operating simply through the intellect -of man. Though dealing with un-Homeric persons, or -events, or both, and copying again from copies probably very -corrupt, yet Chaucer, as an Englishman accustomed to English -ideas of government, brings out with much more freshness and -freedom the notion of public deliberation in Troy, (nay, even -the very word parliament is not wanting,) than do the poets -of the literary age of Greece.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">For which delibered was by Parliment</div> - <div class="verse">For Antenor to yielden out Cresside,</div> - <div class="verse">And it pronounced by the President</div> - <div class="verse">Though that Hector may full oft praid;</div> - <div class="verse">And finally, what wight that it withsaid</div> - <div class="verse">It was for nought, it must ben, and should,</div> - <div class="verse">For substaunce of the parliment it would<a name="FNanchor_1087_1087" id="FNanchor_1087_1087"></a><a href="#Footnote_1087_1087" class="fnanchor">[1087]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But let us return to the so-called Shakespeare.</p> - -<p>Thersites is converted into the modern fool. Diomed struts -upon his toes, while in Homer his modesty among the Greeks -is the peculiar ornament of his valour. Ajax, whom Homer -has made lumpish and goodnatured, is full of haughty follies, -the coxcomb of warriors; while the mere bulk which, combined -with bravery and bluntness, formed his peculiar note, is made -the distinctive characteristic of Achilles. It is still more -grievous to find the relation of this hero to Patroclus degraded -by foul insinuations, entirely foreign to the Iliad, to its author,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_612" id="Page_612">[612]</a></span> -and even to its age. Agamemnon is a mere stage king; and it -can be no wonder that Nestor’s character, which requires a fine -appreciation from its gently rounded construction, should have -become thoroughly commonplace and vapid. The same lot -befalls Ulysses, who is made to play quite a secondary part. -Paris, without any mending of his moral qualities, is allowed to -present a much more respectable figure: the Helen of Homer -reproaches his cowardice; but here he says, ‘I would fain -have armed to-day, but my Nell would not have it so<a name="FNanchor_1088_1088" id="FNanchor_1088_1088"></a><a href="#Footnote_1088_1088" class="fnanchor">[1088]</a>.’ She -appears as the mere adulteress; and those, who remember -how she is treated in Homer, will be able to measure the declension -that time and unskilled hands had wrought, when they -read the speech of Diomed describing her as follows:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">She’s bitter to her country: hear me, Paris!</div> - <div class="verse">For every false drop in her bawdy veins</div> - <div class="verse">A Grecian’s life hath sunk: for every scruple</div> - <div class="verse">Of her contaminated carrion weight</div> - <div class="verse">A Trojan hath been slain: since she could speak</div> - <div class="verse">She hath not given so many good words breath</div> - <div class="verse">As, for her, Greeks and Trojans suffered death<a name="FNanchor_1089_1089" id="FNanchor_1089_1089"></a><a href="#Footnote_1089_1089" class="fnanchor">[1089]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The palm of pure heroism is now become so entirely Hector’s -property, that Achilles only slays him by means of the swords -of his Myrmidons, not by his own proper might; and that, too, -does not happen until, wearied and disarmed, he applies to -Achilles to forego his vantage<a name="FNanchor_1090_1090" id="FNanchor_1090_1090"></a><a href="#Footnote_1090_1090" class="fnanchor">[1090]</a>: so that Ajax says with very -great propriety indeed,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Great Hector was as good a man as he<a name="FNanchor_1091_1091" id="FNanchor_1091_1091"></a><a href="#Footnote_1091_1091" class="fnanchor">[1091]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Shirley’s ‘Contention of Ajax and Ulysses,’ independently -of other merits, deserves notice for a partial return towards -just conception of the Homeric characters. Yet even here the -claim of Ajax to the arms of Achilles is founded principally -on the impeachment of Ulysses as a coward; and the reply of -that chieftain rests much too exclusively on setting up his -political merits and achievements, as if he were strong in no -other title.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_613" id="Page_613">[613]</a></span></p> - -<p>The description of Ajax may deserve to be quoted:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">And now I look on Ajax Telamon,</div> - <div class="verse">I may compare him to some spacious building;</div> - <div class="verse">His body holds vast rooms of entertainment,</div> - <div class="verse">And lower parts maintain the offices;</div> - <div class="verse">Only the garret, his exalted head,</div> - <div class="verse">Useless for wise receipt, is fill’d with lumber.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Dryden followed Shakespeare in the portion of this field which -he had selected; and cast afresh the subject of Troilus and -Cressida. He departed alike from Shakespeare and from -Chaucer by making Cressida prove innocent, a supposition, says -Scott, no more endurable in the preceding age, than one ‘which -should have exhibited Helen chaste, or Hector a coward.’ All -the incongruities of Shakespeare’s play are here reproduced, -including the mixture of the modern element of love with the -Greek and Trojan chivalry; Ajax and Achilles are depressed -to one and the same low level.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Ajax and Achilles! two mudwalls of fool,</div> - <div class="verse">That differ only in degrees of thickness<a name="FNanchor_1092_1092" id="FNanchor_1092_1092"></a><a href="#Footnote_1092_1092" class="fnanchor">[1092]</a>,</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>says Thersites; and Ulysses answers in a similar strain. Troilus -fairly slays Diomed in single combat, and is then himself slain -by Achilles in the crowd. Hector is dispatched, behind the -scenes, under the swords of a multitude of men<a name="FNanchor_1093_1093" id="FNanchor_1093_1093"></a><a href="#Footnote_1093_1093" class="fnanchor">[1093]</a>.</p> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Racine’s Andromaque and Iphigénie.</i></div> - -<p>A short time before this play of Dryden’s, Racine had taken -the characters of the Trojan war in hand. His ‘Andromaque’ -and ‘Iphigénie,’ however, afford us no new lights, and might -very well have been conceived by a person who had never read -a line of Homer, though in various passages there are imitations -which must have filtered from the Homeric text. He -was content in general to copy the traditions as given by Euripides; -and it may provoke a smile to read an apology of -one of his editors, Boisjermain, for the manner in which -Ulysses is handled in the ‘Iphigénie.’ Appearing, near the -outset of the piece, as a personage of very high importance, -he notwithstanding plays in the plot a part wholly insignificant, -instead of assuming, as he does in Euripides, the important -function of urging the slaughter of Iphigenia for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_614" id="Page_614">[614]</a></span> -honour and benefit of Greece. Speaking of the critics who -blame this arrangement, the editor says, they have failed to -observe that Racine has adopted the jealousy and intrigues of -Hermione as the prime movers against Iphigenia, and that these -produce the same result as might otherwise (forsooth) have -been brought about by the reasonings of Ulysses. The work -of literary profanation could hardly be carried further: it was -not to be thus capriciously bandied about from pillar to post, -that Homer constructed his deathless masterpieces. In the -‘Andromaque,’ much as it is praised, we miss, still more -egregiously than in the ‘Iphigénie,’ all the simplicity and -grandeur of the Greek heroic age, and find ourselves environed -by the infinite littleness of merely passionate personal -intrigues, which have self only for their pole and centre. -Nothing can be more unsatisfactory than to see these archaic -Grecian characters dressed in the very last Parisian fashions, -with speech and action accordingly. The total want of -breadth and depth of character, and of earnestness and resolution, -as opposed to mere violence, is such that at parts of -the ‘Andromaque’ we are almost compelled to ask, whether -we are reading a tragedy or a burlesque? As, for instance, -when, with the Sixth Iliad yet lingering upon our mental -vision, we hear Andromache say to her confidante,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Tu vois le pouvoir de mes yeux</span><a name="FNanchor_1094_1094" id="FNanchor_1094_1094"></a><a href="#Footnote_1094_1094" class="fnanchor">[1094]</a>;</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and when Hermione threatens her <i>pis-aller</i> lover, Orestes, with -respect to Pyrrhus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">S’il ne meurt aujourd’hui—je puis l’aimer demain<a name="FNanchor_1095_1095" id="FNanchor_1095_1095"></a><a href="#Footnote_1095_1095" class="fnanchor">[1095]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It is here, too, that we see carried perhaps to the very highest -point of exaggeration the misstatement of the relative martial -merits and performances of Hector and his adversaries. The -Greeks Hermione, herself a Spartan, describes as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Des peuples qui dix ans ont fui devant Hector;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Qui cent fois, effrayés de l’absence de l’Achille,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dans leur vaisseaux brûlants ont cherché leur asyle;</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et qu’on verroit encore, sans l’appui de son fils,</span></div> - <div class="verse"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Redemander Hélène aux Troyens impunis</span><a name="FNanchor_1096_1096" id="FNanchor_1096_1096"></a><a href="#Footnote_1096_1096" class="fnanchor">[1096]</a>.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was well that the handling of Homer should cease alto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_615" id="Page_615">[615]</a></span>gether -for a time, when the characters and scenes belonging to -his subject had become so thoroughly anti-Homeric, that they -only falsified what they ought to have assisted to perpetuate. -An interval has followed, during which they have been allowed -to repose. It would be hazardous to conjecture, after the -failures of so many ages, how far they can hereafter be satisfactorily -reproduced. It has been reserved for Goethe, with -his vigorous grasp of classical antiquity, to tread regions bordering -upon that of the Iliad and Odyssey with the consciousness -of a master’s power. In his ‘Iphigenie,’ for example, he -has given to his scenes, events, and characters the tone and -colouring, with which alone they ought to be invested. And, -if the study and investigation of Homer shall henceforward be -carried on with a zeal at all proportioned to the advantages -of the present age, they cannot fail to accumulate materials, -which it may be permitted us to hope that future genius will -mould into such forms as, if only they are faithful to the -spirit of their original, must alike abound in beauty, truth, and -grandeur, and alike avail for the delight and the instruction of -mankind.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="sidenote"><i>Conclusion.</i></div> - -<p>We have now walked, in the train and in the light -of the great Poet of antiquity, through a long, yet, so -far at least as he is a party, not a barren circuit. We -have begun with his earliest legends, faintly glimmering -upon us from the distance of an hundred generations. -We have seen the creations of his mind live -and move, breathe and almost burn before us, under -the power and magic of his art. We have found him -to have shaped a great and noble mould of humanity, -separate indeed from our experience, but allied through -a thousand channels with our sympathies. We have seen -the greatness of our race at one and the same time -adorned with the simplicity of its childhood, and built -up in the strength of its maturity. We have seen it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_616" id="Page_616">[616]</a></span> -unfold itself in the relations of society and sex, in -peace and in war, in things human and things divine; -and have examined it under the varied lights of comparison -and contrast. We have seen how the memory -of that great age, and of its yet greater Poet, has been -cherished: how the trust which he bequeathed to mankind -has been acknowledged, and yet how imperfectly -it has been discharged. We have striven to trace the -fate of some among his greatest creations; and having -accompanied them down the stream of years even to -our own day, it is full time to part. Nemesis must not -find me<a name="FNanchor_1097_1097" id="FNanchor_1097_1097"></a><a href="#Footnote_1097_1097" class="fnanchor">[1097]</a>,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">ἢ νῦν δηθύνοντ’, ἢ ὕστερον αὖθις ἰόντα.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>To pass from the study of Homer to the ordinary business -of the world is to step out of a palace of enchantments -into the cold grey light of a polar day. But the -spells, in which this sorcerer deals, have no affinity with -that drug from Egypt<a name="FNanchor_1098_1098" id="FNanchor_1098_1098"></a><a href="#Footnote_1098_1098" class="fnanchor">[1098]</a>, which drowns the spirit in effeminate -indifference: rather they are like the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φάρμακον -ἐσθλὸν</span>, the remedial specific<a name="FNanchor_1099_1099" id="FNanchor_1099_1099"></a><a href="#Footnote_1099_1099" class="fnanchor">[1099]</a>, which, freshening the understanding -by contact with the truth and strength of -nature, should both improve its vigilance against deceit -and danger, and increase its vigour and resolution for -the discharge of duty.</p> - - - - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="footnotes"> -<h2 class="nobreak">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> Page xvii.</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> Merope; by Matthew Arnold, pp. 94, 135.</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> Il. iv. 160-82.</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> Grote’s Hist. Greece, vol. ii. -p. 83.</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> Ibid. p. 84.</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> Ibid. p. 102.</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> Ibid. p. 101.</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> Ibid. p. 86.</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> Ibid. pp. 90, 102.</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> Ibid. p. 92.</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> Ibid. p. 95.</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> Grote’s Hist. Greece, vol. ii. pp. 94, 96.</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> Ibid. p. 105.</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> Ar. Eth. Nic. i. 2.</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> Thuc. i. 13.</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> Ar. Pol. III. xiv. xv. V. x.</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> Il. ix. 297.</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> Il. i. 186.</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> Il. ix. 392.</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> Od. xiii. 265.</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> Il. xi. 709, 39, 50.</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> Il. xiii. 685-700.</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> Il. xiii. 701-8.</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> Il. ix. 381.</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> Il. v. 707-10.</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> Thuc. i. 2.</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> B. xii. 8, 4. p. 572.</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> Od. viii. 391. vi. 54.</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> Od. i. 394.</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> Ibid. 386.</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> Od. xvii. 416.</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> Od. xxiv. 179.</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> Od. xxii. 136.</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> See inf. ‘Ilios.’</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> Il. vii. 469.</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> Il. vi. 395-7. 425.</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> There is a <i>nexus</i> of ideas attached -to these towns that excites -suspicion. It would have been in -keeping with the character of -Agamemnon to offer them to -Achilles, on account of his having -already found he could not -control them himself. No one of -them appears in the Catalogue. -Nor do we hear of them in the -Nineteenth Book, when the gifts -are accepted. It seems, however, -just possible that the promise by -Menelaus of the hand of his -daughter Hermione to Neoptolemus -may have been an acquittance -of a residue of debt standing -over from the original offer -of Agamemnon, out of which -the seven towns appear to have -dropped by consent of all parties.</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> Il. xi. 20.</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> Il. xxiii. 296.</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> Od. ii. 324, 331, <i>et alibi</i>. -The epithet is, I think, exactly -rendered by another word very -difficult to translate into English, -the Italian <i>prepotenti</i>.</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> I need hardly express my -dissent from the account given of -the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span> in the note -on Grote’s History of Greece, vol. -II. p. 84. There is no race in -Troas called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύτατον</span>. Every -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεὺς</span> was an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span>; but many -an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span> was not a <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεύς</span>. It is -true that an <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span> might be <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ</span> -either of freemen or of slaves; -but so he might of houses (Od. i. -397), of fishes (Il. xiii. 28), or of -dogs (Od. xvii. 318).</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> Il. xvi. 386.</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> Od. i. 391-3.</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> Il. ix. 155.</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> Od. ii. 230-4.</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> Od. v. 8-12.</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> Od. xviii. 83-6 and 114.</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> Od. xxi. 308.</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> Od. xx. 382, 3.</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> Hesiod <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἔργ.</span> i. 39. 258. cf. 262.</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> Il. xviii. 556.</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> Hes. Theog. 80-97.</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> Thuc. i. 13.</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> Il. i. 231.</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> Il. iii. 179.</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> Od. ii. 47.</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> Hesiod. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἔργ.</span> 17-24.</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> The title is stated to have -been applied in Attica even to -the decennial archons. Tittmann, -<span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griechische Staatsverfassungen</span>, -b. ii. p. 70.</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> Il. ii. 205.</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> Il. ii. 101.</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> Il. ix. 334.</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> Il. ii. 53 <i>et alibi</i>.</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> Il. xix. 309. ii. 86.</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> Il. ii. 487, 493. xx. 303.</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> Il. ii. 404, and vii. 327. On -the force of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Παναχαιοὶ</span>, see Achæis, -or Ethnology, p. 420.</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> Il. ii. 188.</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> Il. vii. 167-70.</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> Il. x. 175, connected with 195.</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> Il. x. 196, 7.</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> Il. ix. 607.</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> Il. ii. 736, 7. vii. 167. xi. 819.</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> Il. xvii. 51. ii. 673.</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> Il. xxiv. 631.</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> Il. ii. 674. Od. xvi. 175. Il. -iii. 224, 169, 226, and Od. xi. -469.</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> Hist. vol. ii. p. 87.</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> Il. xvii. 225.</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> Il. ix. 394.</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> Il. xvii. 520. Od. xii. 83.</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> Il. ii. 660.</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> Nor is it applied in the -Odyssey to any bodies more numerous -than the thirteen ‘kings’ -of Scheria, Od. v. 378; and to -them in the character of kings.</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> Od. i. 386.</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> Il. xxiii. 653.</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> Il. x. 352.</p></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> Il. xxiii. 750.</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> Il. xxiii. 670.</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> Il. ix. 186.</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> Od. xviii. 366-75.</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> Od. xix. 500-2.</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> In Od. xxii. 417, he applies -to Euryclea for the information, -which he had before declined. -This is after the trial of the -Bow: the other was before it -was proposed, and when the -Chief probably reckoned on having -himself more time for observation -than proved to be the -case.</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> Il. i. 334.</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> Il. ix. 197.</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> Il. xxiv. 486.</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> Od. ii. 33, 5.</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> Od. viii. 159. and seqq.</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> Il. iv. 231 and seqq.</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> Od. i. 40.</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> Il. x. 32.</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> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅ τοι γενεῇ πατρώϊόν ἐστιν</span>, Od. i. 387.</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> Od. i. 396. ii. 182.</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> Od. i. 396.</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> Od. ii. 82.</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> Od. xi. 254, 6.</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> Od. xi. 281.</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> Od. iii. 36.</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> Od. iii. 402. Il. vi. 242-50.</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> Od. iii. 439-46 and 454.</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> Il. xv. 204-7.</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> Od. xiii. 141.</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> Od. xiv. 74. 94.</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> Il. xviii. 498.</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> Il. ii. 204.</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> Il. i. 237.</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> Il. ix. 98.</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> Il. xviii. 506.</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> Il. xvi. 386.</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> Il. iii. 179.</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> Il. vi. 207.</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> Od. xiv. 98.</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> Il. xii. 310-28.</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> Gen. xliii. 11.</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> Il. vii. 467-75.</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> Od. vii. 8-11.</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> Il. xviii. 508.</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> Od. xvii. 68.</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> Il. vii. 313.</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> Il. ix. 70.</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> Ibid. 73.</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> Od. vii. 49, 108.</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> Il. ix. 155.</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> Il. x. 239.</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> Thuc. i. 9.</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> Od. iv. 584.</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> Od. ix. 263.</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> Il. ii. 303-7. 339-41.</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> Ibid. 308, 322.</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> Il. iv. 169-72.</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> Od. vii. 77.</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> Il. ix. 356-63, 417-20.</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> Il. iv. 415-8.</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> Il. i. 117.</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> Il. vi. 45-62.</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> Il. iv. 473-9.</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> Il. ix. 459.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_144_144" id="Footnote_144_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_144_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> Il. xxii. 485. Od. xxiv. 434.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_145_145" id="Footnote_145_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> Od. xi. 85.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_146_146" id="Footnote_146_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> Od. iv. 10-12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_147_147" id="Footnote_147_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> Od. xvii. 383.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_148_148" id="Footnote_148_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_148_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> Il. vi. 314.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_149_149" id="Footnote_149_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_149_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> Od. iii. 267.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_150_150" id="Footnote_150_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> Od. xvii. 263. xxiv. 439.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_151_151" id="Footnote_151_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_151_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> Od. xix. 135.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_152_152" id="Footnote_152_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_152_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> Od. viii. 161.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_153_153" id="Footnote_153_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_153_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> Od. i. 183.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_154_154" id="Footnote_154_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> Od. xxiv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_155_155" id="Footnote_155_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> Hist. Greece ii. p. 84.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_156_156" id="Footnote_156_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> Od. xvi. 248, 253, also <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δαιτρὸς</span>, -Od. i. 141. There were likewise -in Scheria nine <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰσυμνῆται</span>, who -made arrangements for the dance. -These were public officers (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δήμιοι</span>) -and may fairly be rendered -‘masters of the ceremonies.’ (Od. -viii. 258.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_157_157" id="Footnote_157_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> Od. xiv. 449-52.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_158_158" id="Footnote_158_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 498.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_159_159" id="Footnote_159_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> Od. xvii. 320-3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_160_160" id="Footnote_160_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> Od. xi. 489-91.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_161_161" id="Footnote_161_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> Od. xiii. 223.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_162_162" id="Footnote_162_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> Il. i. 321.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_163_163" id="Footnote_163_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_163_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 396-400.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_164_164" id="Footnote_164_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_164_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> Od. ii. 17.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_165_165" id="Footnote_165_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_165_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> Ibid. 474.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_166_166" id="Footnote_166_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_166_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 387. 497.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_167_167" id="Footnote_167_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> Il. ii. 110.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_168_168" id="Footnote_168_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_168_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> Od. xiv. 222.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_169_169" id="Footnote_169_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_169_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> Il. ix. 70-73, 330-3. i. 121.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_170_170" id="Footnote_170_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_170_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> Il. xi. 100, 110.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_171_171" id="Footnote_171_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_171_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> Od. xiv. 96-104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_172_172" id="Footnote_172_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_172_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> The gods, Il. i. 599 <i>et alibi</i>. The rich man, Il. xi. 68. Od. i. 217. -The happy man, Od. vi. 158. xi. 482. Il. iii. 182. xxiv. 377.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_173_173" id="Footnote_173_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_173_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> Il. vi. 236.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_174_174" id="Footnote_174_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_174_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> Il. ii. 448, 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_175_175" id="Footnote_175_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 702-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_176_176" id="Footnote_176_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_176_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> Il. xxi. 79.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_177_177" id="Footnote_177_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_177_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> Od. xxii. 57-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_178_178" id="Footnote_178_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_178_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> Agam. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_179_179" id="Footnote_179_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_179_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 740-51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_180_180" id="Footnote_180_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> Pol. iii. 14. 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_181_181" id="Footnote_181_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_181_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> Vid. Achæis or Ethnology, p. 574.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_182_182" id="Footnote_182_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_182_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> Even the instance, in Il. xiii. 211, of a nameless person who had -simply been wounded is a rare, if not indeed the single, exception.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_183_183" id="Footnote_183_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_183_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> Il. xiii. 685.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_184_184" id="Footnote_184_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_184_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> Il. ii. 333.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_185_185" id="Footnote_185_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_185_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> Il. xviii. 509, 13, 20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_186_186" id="Footnote_186_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_186_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> Il. i. 226.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_187_187" id="Footnote_187_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_187_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> Il. xiii. 276-86.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_188_188" id="Footnote_188_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> Od. iv. 277-88.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_189_189" id="Footnote_189_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_189_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 791.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_190_190" id="Footnote_190_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_190_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> Il. ii. 408-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_191_191" id="Footnote_191_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_191_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> Il. ix. 10. 89.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_192_192" id="Footnote_192_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_192_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> Il. x. 195.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_193_193" id="Footnote_193_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_193_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> Il. i. 54. xix. 41.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_194_194" id="Footnote_194_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_194_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> Il. vii. 344, 382.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_195_195" id="Footnote_195_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_195_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> Il. iii. 146-53.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_196_196" id="Footnote_196_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_196_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> Il. xviii. 506.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_197_197" id="Footnote_197_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_197_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> Od. ii. 14.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_198_198" id="Footnote_198_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_198_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> Od. xxi. 21.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_199_199" id="Footnote_199_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_199_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> Il. iv. 329-63.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_200_200" id="Footnote_200_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_200_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> Ibid. 385-418.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_201_201" id="Footnote_201_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_201_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> Il. ix. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_202_202" id="Footnote_202_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_202_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> Cf. Od. xi. 512.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_203_203" id="Footnote_203_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_203_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> Hist. of Greece, vol. ii. 95, 97.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_204_204" id="Footnote_204_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_204_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> Grote ii. 104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_205_205" id="Footnote_205_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_205_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> Il. ix. 30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_206_206" id="Footnote_206_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_206_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> Ibid. 50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_207_207" id="Footnote_207_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_207_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> Il. ix. 79.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_208_208" id="Footnote_208_208"></a><a href="#FNanchor_208_208"><span class="label">[208]</span></a> Ibid. 97.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_209_209" id="Footnote_209_209"></a><a href="#FNanchor_209_209"><span class="label">[209]</span></a> Il. xix. 182.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_210_210" id="Footnote_210_210"></a><a href="#FNanchor_210_210"><span class="label">[210]</span></a> Grote’s Hist. vol. ii. pp. 90, 2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_211_211" id="Footnote_211_211"></a><a href="#FNanchor_211_211"><span class="label">[211]</span></a> He uses the epithet for battle in Il. iv. 225, 6. 124, 7. 113, 8. -448, 12. 325, 13. 270, 14. 155, and 24. 391.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_212_212" id="Footnote_212_212"></a><a href="#FNanchor_212_212"><span class="label">[212]</span></a> Il. ix. 438-43.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_213_213" id="Footnote_213_213"></a><a href="#FNanchor_213_213"><span class="label">[213]</span></a> Od. ii. 150.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_214_214" id="Footnote_214_214"></a><a href="#FNanchor_214_214"><span class="label">[214]</span></a> Od. viii. 170-3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_215_215" id="Footnote_215_215"></a><a href="#FNanchor_215_215"><span class="label">[215]</span></a> Od. viii. 166-85.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_216_216" id="Footnote_216_216"></a><a href="#FNanchor_216_216"><span class="label">[216]</span></a> Il. ii. 212.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_217_217" id="Footnote_217_217"></a><a href="#FNanchor_217_217"><span class="label">[217]</span></a> Od. iii. 23, 124.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_218_218" id="Footnote_218_218"></a><a href="#FNanchor_218_218"><span class="label">[218]</span></a> Il. iii. 213.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_219_219" id="Footnote_219_219"></a><a href="#FNanchor_219_219"><span class="label">[219]</span></a> Il. iii. 150.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_220_220" id="Footnote_220_220"></a><a href="#FNanchor_220_220"><span class="label">[220]</span></a> Il. i. 248.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_221_221" id="Footnote_221_221"></a><a href="#FNanchor_221_221"><span class="label">[221]</span></a> Il. iii. 216, 23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_222_222" id="Footnote_222_222"></a><a href="#FNanchor_222_222"><span class="label">[222]</span></a> Il. xi. 122-42.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_223_223" id="Footnote_223_223"></a><a href="#FNanchor_223_223"><span class="label">[223]</span></a> Od. xxii. 310-25.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_224_224" id="Footnote_224_224"></a><a href="#FNanchor_224_224"><span class="label">[224]</span></a> The version of Voss is very -accurate, but, I think, lifeless. -The version of Cowper is at this -point not satisfactory: he weakens, -by exaggerating, the delicate -expression <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μεμήλῃ</span>: -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent18">Look thou forth at early dawn,</div> - <div class="verse">And, if such spectacle <i>delight</i> thee aught,</div> - <div class="verse">Thou shalt behold me cleaving with my prows, &c.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The version of Pope simply omits the line! -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Tomorrow we the favouring gods implore:</div> - <div class="verse">Then shall you see our parting vessels crowned,</div> - <div class="verse">And hear with oars the Hellespont resound.</div> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_225_225" id="Footnote_225_225"></a><a href="#FNanchor_225_225"><span class="label">[225]</span></a> Il. ix. 340.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_226_226" id="Footnote_226_226"></a><a href="#FNanchor_226_226"><span class="label">[226]</span></a> Il. i. 106-244.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_227_227" id="Footnote_227_227"></a><a href="#FNanchor_227_227"><span class="label">[227]</span></a> Il. ix. 387.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_228_228" id="Footnote_228_228"></a><a href="#FNanchor_228_228"><span class="label">[228]</span></a> Il. i. 127.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_229_229" id="Footnote_229_229"></a><a href="#FNanchor_229_229"><span class="label">[229]</span></a> ii. 227.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_230_230" id="Footnote_230_230"></a><a href="#FNanchor_230_230"><span class="label">[230]</span></a> Il. i. 121-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_231_231" id="Footnote_231_231"></a><a href="#FNanchor_231_231"><span class="label">[231]</span></a> Ibid. 149-71.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_232_232" id="Footnote_232_232"></a><a href="#FNanchor_232_232"><span class="label">[232]</span></a> Ibid. 225.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_233_233" id="Footnote_233_233"></a><a href="#FNanchor_233_233"><span class="label">[233]</span></a> Ibid. 231.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_234_234" id="Footnote_234_234"></a><a href="#FNanchor_234_234"><span class="label">[234]</span></a> Ibid. 239.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_235_235" id="Footnote_235_235"></a><a href="#FNanchor_235_235"><span class="label">[235]</span></a> Il. ii. 213.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_236_236" id="Footnote_236_236"></a><a href="#FNanchor_236_236"><span class="label">[236]</span></a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">φολκός</span>. See Buttmann, Liddell -and Scott. Commonly rendered -‘squinting.’</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_237_237" id="Footnote_237_237"></a><a href="#FNanchor_237_237"><span class="label">[237]</span></a> Il. ii. 214-19.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_238_238" id="Footnote_238_238"></a><a href="#FNanchor_238_238"><span class="label">[238]</span></a> Ibid. 275, 220.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_239_239" id="Footnote_239_239"></a><a href="#FNanchor_239_239"><span class="label">[239]</span></a> Il. ix. 198.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_240_240" id="Footnote_240_240"></a><a href="#FNanchor_240_240"><span class="label">[240]</span></a> In 237 he appears to follow what Achilles had said i. 170.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_241_241" id="Footnote_241_241"></a><a href="#FNanchor_241_241"><span class="label">[241]</span></a> Il. ii. 241, 2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_242_242" id="Footnote_242_242"></a><a href="#FNanchor_242_242"><span class="label">[242]</span></a> Il. ii. 229-31.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_243_243" id="Footnote_243_243"></a><a href="#FNanchor_243_243"><span class="label">[243]</span></a> xxi. 40, 79. xxii. 44.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_244_244" id="Footnote_244_244"></a><a href="#FNanchor_244_244"><span class="label">[244]</span></a> 246-56.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_245_245" id="Footnote_245_245"></a><a href="#FNanchor_245_245"><span class="label">[245]</span></a> Grote’s Hist. Greece, vol. ii. -95, 6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_246_246" id="Footnote_246_246"></a><a href="#FNanchor_246_246"><span class="label">[246]</span></a> Ibid. pp. 96, 98.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_247_247" id="Footnote_247_247"></a><a href="#FNanchor_247_247"><span class="label">[247]</span></a> Il. ii. 198.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_248_248" id="Footnote_248_248"></a><a href="#FNanchor_248_248"><span class="label">[248]</span></a> Ibid. 190, 200.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_249_249" id="Footnote_249_249"></a><a href="#FNanchor_249_249"><span class="label">[249]</span></a> vv. 271-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_250_250" id="Footnote_250_250"></a><a href="#FNanchor_250_250"><span class="label">[250]</span></a> Il. ii. 270.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_251_251" id="Footnote_251_251"></a><a href="#FNanchor_251_251"><span class="label">[251]</span></a> Il. xviii. 502.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_252_252" id="Footnote_252_252"></a><a href="#FNanchor_252_252"><span class="label">[252]</span></a> Il. vii. 381.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_253_253" id="Footnote_253_253"></a><a href="#FNanchor_253_253"><span class="label">[253]</span></a> Sup. p. <a href="#Page_100">100</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_254_254" id="Footnote_254_254"></a><a href="#FNanchor_254_254"><span class="label">[254]</span></a> Od. iii. 139.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_255_255" id="Footnote_255_255"></a><a href="#FNanchor_255_255"><span class="label">[255]</span></a> Od. ii. 212.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_256_256" id="Footnote_256_256"></a><a href="#FNanchor_256_256"><span class="label">[256]</span></a> Od. ii. 239-41.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_257_257" id="Footnote_257_257"></a><a href="#FNanchor_257_257"><span class="label">[257]</span></a> <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griech. Staatsv.</span> b. ii. p. 57.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_258_258" id="Footnote_258_258"></a><a href="#FNanchor_258_258"><span class="label">[258]</span></a> Od. ii. 257. Il. i. 305.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_259_259" id="Footnote_259_259"></a><a href="#FNanchor_259_259"><span class="label">[259]</span></a> Od. vii. 151.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_260_260" id="Footnote_260_260"></a><a href="#FNanchor_260_260"><span class="label">[260]</span></a> Od. vii. 189-94, 317.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_261_261" id="Footnote_261_261"></a><a href="#FNanchor_261_261"><span class="label">[261]</span></a> Od. viii. 7-15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_262_262" id="Footnote_262_262"></a><a href="#FNanchor_262_262"><span class="label">[262]</span></a> The number deserves remark. -Fifty, as we know from -the Catalogue, was a regular -ship’s crew of rowers. What -were the two? Probably a commander, -and a steersman. The -dual is used in both the places -where the numbers are mentioned -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κρινάσθων</span>, ver. 36, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κρινθέντε</span>, -48, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βήτην</span>, 49). There are -other passages where the dual -extends beyond the number two, -to three and four. See Nitzsch, -in loc. But the use of it here -with so large a number is remarkable, -and may be best explained -by supposing that it -refers to the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δύω</span>, who were the -principal men of the crew, and -that the fifty are not regarded as -forming part of the subject of -the verb. If this be so, the passage -shows us in a very simple -form the rudimentary nautical -order of the Greek ships.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_263_263" id="Footnote_263_263"></a><a href="#FNanchor_263_263"><span class="label">[263]</span></a> Od. viii. 38.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_264_264" id="Footnote_264_264"></a><a href="#FNanchor_264_264"><span class="label">[264]</span></a> Od. viii. 158-64.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_265_265" id="Footnote_265_265"></a><a href="#FNanchor_265_265"><span class="label">[265]</span></a> Od. viii. 157.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_266_266" id="Footnote_266_266"></a><a href="#FNanchor_266_266"><span class="label">[266]</span></a> Probably the strictly proper -name of the Assembly, as distinguished -from the place of meeting, -is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄγυρις</span> or <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πανήγυρις</span> (as Od. -iii. 131), but the name common -to the two prevails.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_267_267" id="Footnote_267_267"></a><a href="#FNanchor_267_267"><span class="label">[267]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 463.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_268_268" id="Footnote_268_268"></a><a href="#FNanchor_268_268"><span class="label">[268]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 546.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_269_269" id="Footnote_269_269"></a><a href="#FNanchor_269_269"><span class="label">[269]</span></a> Besides all the particulars -which have been cited, we have -incidental notices scattered about -the poems, which tend exactly -in the same direction. For example, -when Chryses prays for -the restitution of his daughter, -his petition is addressed principally -to the two Atridæ, but it -is likewise addressed to the -whole body of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀχαιοὶ</span> (Il. i. 15), -that is, either to the entire army, -or at any rate to all the kings; -or, to all the members of the -Achæan race. This we may -compare with the application of -the prayer of Ulysses in Scheria -to the king and people.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_270_270" id="Footnote_270_270"></a><a href="#FNanchor_270_270"><span class="label">[270]</span></a> Il. viii. 28, 9. ix. 430, 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_271_271" id="Footnote_271_271"></a><a href="#FNanchor_271_271"><span class="label">[271]</span></a> Il. viii. 38-40.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_272_272" id="Footnote_272_272"></a><a href="#FNanchor_272_272"><span class="label">[272]</span></a> Il. i. 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_273_273" id="Footnote_273_273"></a><a href="#FNanchor_273_273"><span class="label">[273]</span></a> Il. iv. 17-19.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_274_274" id="Footnote_274_274"></a><a href="#FNanchor_274_274"><span class="label">[274]</span></a> Od. ii. 68, 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_275_275" id="Footnote_275_275"></a><a href="#FNanchor_275_275"><span class="label">[275]</span></a> Il. xviii. 497.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_276_276" id="Footnote_276_276"></a><a href="#FNanchor_276_276"><span class="label">[276]</span></a> Il. xi. 807.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_277_277" id="Footnote_277_277"></a><a href="#FNanchor_277_277"><span class="label">[277]</span></a> Od. ix. 112-15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_278_278" id="Footnote_278_278"></a><a href="#FNanchor_278_278"><span class="label">[278]</span></a> Tittmann <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griech. Staatsv.</span> b. ii. p. 56.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_279_279" id="Footnote_279_279"></a><a href="#FNanchor_279_279"><span class="label">[279]</span></a> Il. ix. 404.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_280_280" id="Footnote_280_280"></a><a href="#FNanchor_280_280"><span class="label">[280]</span></a> Achæis, or Ethnology, sect. ix. p. 496.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_281_281" id="Footnote_281_281"></a><a href="#FNanchor_281_281"><span class="label">[281]</span></a> Il. viii. 47, 8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_282_282" id="Footnote_282_282"></a><a href="#FNanchor_282_282"><span class="label">[282]</span></a> Il. iii. 298.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_283_283" id="Footnote_283_283"></a><a href="#FNanchor_283_283"><span class="label">[283]</span></a> Il. iv. 48.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_284_284" id="Footnote_284_284"></a><a href="#FNanchor_284_284"><span class="label">[284]</span></a> Il. xxi. 442 seqq. vii. 459. -xii. 17.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_285_285" id="Footnote_285_285"></a><a href="#FNanchor_285_285"><span class="label">[285]</span></a> Olympus, sect. iii. p. 197.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_286_286" id="Footnote_286_286"></a><a href="#FNanchor_286_286"><span class="label">[286]</span></a> Il. vi. 298-300. 305-10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_287_287" id="Footnote_287_287"></a><a href="#FNanchor_287_287"><span class="label">[287]</span></a> Il. v. 446.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_288_288" id="Footnote_288_288"></a><a href="#FNanchor_288_288"><span class="label">[288]</span></a> Il i. 37-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_289_289" id="Footnote_289_289"></a><a href="#FNanchor_289_289"><span class="label">[289]</span></a> Il. vii. 540. xiii. 827.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_290_290" id="Footnote_290_290"></a><a href="#FNanchor_290_290"><span class="label">[290]</span></a> Il. i. 457.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_291_291" id="Footnote_291_291"></a><a href="#FNanchor_291_291"><span class="label">[291]</span></a> Il. v. 49.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_292_292" id="Footnote_292_292"></a><a href="#FNanchor_292_292"><span class="label">[292]</span></a> Il. v. 421-5. 348-51. iii. 405-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_293_293" id="Footnote_293_293"></a><a href="#FNanchor_293_293"><span class="label">[293]</span></a> Il. v. 9. and 20-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_294_294" id="Footnote_294_294"></a><a href="#FNanchor_294_294"><span class="label">[294]</span></a> Il. xiv. 490.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_295_295" id="Footnote_295_295"></a><a href="#FNanchor_295_295"><span class="label">[295]</span></a> Il. iii. 103. 116.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_296_296" id="Footnote_296_296"></a><a href="#FNanchor_296_296"><span class="label">[296]</span></a> Il. xviii. 239.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_297_297" id="Footnote_297_297"></a><a href="#FNanchor_297_297"><span class="label">[297]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 234-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_298_298" id="Footnote_298_298"></a><a href="#FNanchor_298_298"><span class="label">[298]</span></a> Il. vi. 289-92.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_299_299" id="Footnote_299_299"></a><a href="#FNanchor_299_299"><span class="label">[299]</span></a> Herod. ii. 50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_300_300" id="Footnote_300_300"></a><a href="#FNanchor_300_300"><span class="label">[300]</span></a> Döllinger <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Heid. u. Jud.</span> VI. -iii. p. 411.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_301_301" id="Footnote_301_301"></a><a href="#FNanchor_301_301"><span class="label">[301]</span></a> Rhea (<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἔρα</span>) shows us the -fourth and cosmogonic side of -the same conception.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_302_302" id="Footnote_302_302"></a><a href="#FNanchor_302_302"><span class="label">[302]</span></a> Olympus, sect. iii. p. 234.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_303_303" id="Footnote_303_303"></a><a href="#FNanchor_303_303"><span class="label">[303]</span></a> Il. xiv. 490.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_304_304" id="Footnote_304_304"></a><a href="#FNanchor_304_304"><span class="label">[304]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 194.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_305_305" id="Footnote_305_305"></a><a href="#FNanchor_305_305"><span class="label">[305]</span></a> Olympus, sect. v.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_306_306" id="Footnote_306_306"></a><a href="#FNanchor_306_306"><span class="label">[306]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 347, 355, 358-60.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_307_307" id="Footnote_307_307"></a><a href="#FNanchor_307_307"><span class="label">[307]</span></a> Il. v. 77.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_308_308" id="Footnote_308_308"></a><a href="#FNanchor_308_308"><span class="label">[308]</span></a> Il. ix. 575.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_309_309" id="Footnote_309_309"></a><a href="#FNanchor_309_309"><span class="label">[309]</span></a> Od. xv. 223 and seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_310_310" id="Footnote_310_310"></a><a href="#FNanchor_310_310"><span class="label">[310]</span></a> Il. xxi. 331 and seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_311_311" id="Footnote_311_311"></a><a href="#FNanchor_311_311"><span class="label">[311]</span></a> Il. xx. 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_312_312" id="Footnote_312_312"></a><a href="#FNanchor_312_312"><span class="label">[312]</span></a> Il. xxi. 130-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_313_313" id="Footnote_313_313"></a><a href="#FNanchor_313_313"><span class="label">[313]</span></a> Il. iv. 474, 488.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_314_314" id="Footnote_314_314"></a><a href="#FNanchor_314_314"><span class="label">[314]</span></a> Il. v. 49.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_315_315" id="Footnote_315_315"></a><a href="#FNanchor_315_315"><span class="label">[315]</span></a> Od. v. 445.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_316_316" id="Footnote_316_316"></a><a href="#FNanchor_316_316"><span class="label">[316]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 144.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_317_317" id="Footnote_317_317"></a><a href="#FNanchor_317_317"><span class="label">[317]</span></a> Il. xi. 728.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_318_318" id="Footnote_318_318"></a><a href="#FNanchor_318_318"><span class="label">[318]</span></a> Il. xx. 221.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_319_319" id="Footnote_319_319"></a><a href="#FNanchor_319_319"><span class="label">[319]</span></a> Il. iii. 147-9. xv. 525-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_320_320" id="Footnote_320_320"></a><a href="#FNanchor_320_320"><span class="label">[320]</span></a> Il. xiv. 271. xv. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_321_321" id="Footnote_321_321"></a><a href="#FNanchor_321_321"><span class="label">[321]</span></a> Il. 2. 751-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_322_322" id="Footnote_322_322"></a><a href="#FNanchor_322_322"><span class="label">[322]</span></a> Compare Il. iii. 276. xix. 258.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_323_323" id="Footnote_323_323"></a><a href="#FNanchor_323_323"><span class="label">[323]</span></a> Il. xx. 74.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_324_324" id="Footnote_324_324"></a><a href="#FNanchor_324_324"><span class="label">[324]</span></a> Il. xxi. 308.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_325_325" id="Footnote_325_325"></a><a href="#FNanchor_325_325"><span class="label">[325]</span></a> Od. xiii. 356.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_326_326" id="Footnote_326_326"></a><a href="#FNanchor_326_326"><span class="label">[326]</span></a> Od. xiii. 103.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_327_327" id="Footnote_327_327"></a><a href="#FNanchor_327_327"><span class="label">[327]</span></a> Ibid. 96.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_328_328" id="Footnote_328_328"></a><a href="#FNanchor_328_328"><span class="label">[328]</span></a> Od. xvii. 208-11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_329_329" id="Footnote_329_329"></a><a href="#FNanchor_329_329"><span class="label">[329]</span></a> Il. vi. 21.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_330_330" id="Footnote_330_330"></a><a href="#FNanchor_330_330"><span class="label">[330]</span></a> Il. xiv. 444.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_331_331" id="Footnote_331_331"></a><a href="#FNanchor_331_331"><span class="label">[331]</span></a> Il. xx. 384.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_332_332" id="Footnote_332_332"></a><a href="#FNanchor_332_332"><span class="label">[332]</span></a> Il. xxii. 435. xxiv. 209.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_333_333" id="Footnote_333_333"></a><a href="#FNanchor_333_333"><span class="label">[333]</span></a> Il. ix. 559.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_334_334" id="Footnote_334_334"></a><a href="#FNanchor_334_334"><span class="label">[334]</span></a> Il. xix. 90-133.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_335_335" id="Footnote_335_335"></a><a href="#FNanchor_335_335"><span class="label">[335]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 602-17.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_336_336" id="Footnote_336_336"></a><a href="#FNanchor_336_336"><span class="label">[336]</span></a> Od. xx. 66.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_337_337" id="Footnote_337_337"></a><a href="#FNanchor_337_337"><span class="label">[337]</span></a> Od. xxi. 295-304.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_338_338" id="Footnote_338_338"></a><a href="#FNanchor_338_338"><span class="label">[338]</span></a> Il. v. 697, and vii. 60.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_339_339" id="Footnote_339_339"></a><a href="#FNanchor_339_339"><span class="label">[339]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 220.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_340_340" id="Footnote_340_340"></a><a href="#FNanchor_340_340"><span class="label">[340]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 223, 194.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_341_341" id="Footnote_341_341"></a><a href="#FNanchor_341_341"><span class="label">[341]</span></a> Sup. p. <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_342_342" id="Footnote_342_342"></a><a href="#FNanchor_342_342"><span class="label">[342]</span></a> Il. vi. 422. xxii. 482.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_343_343" id="Footnote_343_343"></a><a href="#FNanchor_343_343"><span class="label">[343]</span></a> Od. ix. 65.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_344_344" id="Footnote_344_344"></a><a href="#FNanchor_344_344"><span class="label">[344]</span></a> Od. xi. 51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_345_345" id="Footnote_345_345"></a><a href="#FNanchor_345_345"><span class="label">[345]</span></a> Il. iii. 276.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_346_346" id="Footnote_346_346"></a><a href="#FNanchor_346_346"><span class="label">[346]</span></a> Il. xix. 258.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_347_347" id="Footnote_347_347"></a><a href="#FNanchor_347_347"><span class="label">[347]</span></a> Il. xiv. 271-4, 278, 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_348_348" id="Footnote_348_348"></a><a href="#FNanchor_348_348"><span class="label">[348]</span></a> Il. xv. 36-40.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_349_349" id="Footnote_349_349"></a><a href="#FNanchor_349_349"><span class="label">[349]</span></a> Od. v. 184.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_350_350" id="Footnote_350_350"></a><a href="#FNanchor_350_350"><span class="label">[350]</span></a> Il. iii 264-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_351_351" id="Footnote_351_351"></a><a href="#FNanchor_351_351"><span class="label">[351]</span></a> Wordsworth’s Excursion, b. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_352_352" id="Footnote_352_352"></a><a href="#FNanchor_352_352"><span class="label">[352]</span></a> Il. xxii. 171.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_353_353" id="Footnote_353_353"></a><a href="#FNanchor_353_353"><span class="label">[353]</span></a> Il. ix. 404. Ld. Aberdeen’s Essay, p. 86.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_354_354" id="Footnote_354_354"></a><a href="#FNanchor_354_354"><span class="label">[354]</span></a> Od. xii. 345.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_355_355" id="Footnote_355_355"></a><a href="#FNanchor_355_355"><span class="label">[355]</span></a> Od. vi. 10; vii. 56.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_356_356" id="Footnote_356_356"></a><a href="#FNanchor_356_356"><span class="label">[356]</span></a> Il. i. 39.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_357_357" id="Footnote_357_357"></a><a href="#FNanchor_357_357"><span class="label">[357]</span></a> In loc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_358_358" id="Footnote_358_358"></a><a href="#FNanchor_358_358"><span class="label">[358]</span></a> Terpstra, c. iii. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_359_359" id="Footnote_359_359"></a><a href="#FNanchor_359_359"><span class="label">[359]</span></a> Il. xi. 807, 8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_360_360" id="Footnote_360_360"></a><a href="#FNanchor_360_360"><span class="label">[360]</span></a> Od. iii. 438. xii. 347.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_361_361" id="Footnote_361_361"></a><a href="#FNanchor_361_361"><span class="label">[361]</span></a> Od. xv. 224 <i>et seqq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_362_362" id="Footnote_362_362"></a><a href="#FNanchor_362_362"><span class="label">[362]</span></a> Od. xi. 150.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_363_363" id="Footnote_363_363"></a><a href="#FNanchor_363_363"><span class="label">[363]</span></a> Od. xxii. 310-29. xxi. 144.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_364_364" id="Footnote_364_364"></a><a href="#FNanchor_364_364"><span class="label">[364]</span></a> Od. ix. 197-201.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_365_365" id="Footnote_365_365"></a><a href="#FNanchor_365_365"><span class="label">[365]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 221.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_366_366" id="Footnote_366_366"></a><a href="#FNanchor_366_366"><span class="label">[366]</span></a> Il. xvi. 235.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_367_367" id="Footnote_367_367"></a><a href="#FNanchor_367_367"><span class="label">[367]</span></a> Il. ii. 400.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_368_368" id="Footnote_368_368"></a><a href="#FNanchor_368_368"><span class="label">[368]</span></a> Il. xi. 807, 8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_369_369" id="Footnote_369_369"></a><a href="#FNanchor_369_369"><span class="label">[369]</span></a> Od. xvii. 384-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_370_370" id="Footnote_370_370"></a><a href="#FNanchor_370_370"><span class="label">[370]</span></a> Il. ix. 535.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_371_371" id="Footnote_371_371"></a><a href="#FNanchor_371_371"><span class="label">[371]</span></a> Legg. vi. 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_372_372" id="Footnote_372_372"></a><a href="#FNanchor_372_372"><span class="label">[372]</span></a> Il. i. 28.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_373_373" id="Footnote_373_373"></a><a href="#FNanchor_373_373"><span class="label">[373]</span></a> Il. i. 62.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_374_374" id="Footnote_374_374"></a><a href="#FNanchor_374_374"><span class="label">[374]</span></a> Il. i. 15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_375_375" id="Footnote_375_375"></a><a href="#FNanchor_375_375"><span class="label">[375]</span></a> Il. xvi. 235.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_376_376" id="Footnote_376_376"></a><a href="#FNanchor_376_376"><span class="label">[376]</span></a> Od. ix. 205.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_377_377" id="Footnote_377_377"></a><a href="#FNanchor_377_377"><span class="label">[377]</span></a> Döllinger, <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Heid. u. Jud.</span> iv. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_378_378" id="Footnote_378_378"></a><a href="#FNanchor_378_378"><span class="label">[378]</span></a> Plat. Legg. vi. 7. (ii. 759.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_379_379" id="Footnote_379_379"></a><a href="#FNanchor_379_379"><span class="label">[379]</span></a> Il. i. 62.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_380_380" id="Footnote_380_380"></a><a href="#FNanchor_380_380"><span class="label">[380]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 22.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_381_381" id="Footnote_381_381"></a><a href="#FNanchor_381_381"><span class="label">[381]</span></a> Il. i. 23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_382_382" id="Footnote_382_382"></a><a href="#FNanchor_382_382"><span class="label">[382]</span></a> Il. v. 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_383_383" id="Footnote_383_383"></a><a href="#FNanchor_383_383"><span class="label">[383]</span></a> Ibid. 76.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_384_384" id="Footnote_384_384"></a><a href="#FNanchor_384_384"><span class="label">[384]</span></a> Il. i. 11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_385_385" id="Footnote_385_385"></a><a href="#FNanchor_385_385"><span class="label">[385]</span></a> Od. xxii. 322.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_386_386" id="Footnote_386_386"></a><a href="#FNanchor_386_386"><span class="label">[386]</span></a> Il. vi. 298.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_387_387" id="Footnote_387_387"></a><a href="#FNanchor_387_387"><span class="label">[387]</span></a> Il. xvi. 604.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_388_388" id="Footnote_388_388"></a><a href="#FNanchor_388_388"><span class="label">[388]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 221.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_389_389" id="Footnote_389_389"></a><a href="#FNanchor_389_389"><span class="label">[389]</span></a> Od. ix. 196-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_390_390" id="Footnote_390_390"></a><a href="#FNanchor_390_390"><span class="label">[390]</span></a> Ibid. 199-201.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_391_391" id="Footnote_391_391"></a><a href="#FNanchor_391_391"><span class="label">[391]</span></a> Il. i. 458, 462.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_392_392" id="Footnote_392_392"></a><a href="#FNanchor_392_392"><span class="label">[392]</span></a> Od. ix. 205.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_393_393" id="Footnote_393_393"></a><a href="#FNanchor_393_393"><span class="label">[393]</span></a> Il. v. 9, 78.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_394_394" id="Footnote_394_394"></a><a href="#FNanchor_394_394"><span class="label">[394]</span></a> Il. xxii. 170. xxiv. 168.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_395_395" id="Footnote_395_395"></a><a href="#FNanchor_395_395"><span class="label">[395]</span></a> Il. xx. 298.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_396_396" id="Footnote_396_396"></a><a href="#FNanchor_396_396"><span class="label">[396]</span></a> Il. iv. 48.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_397_397" id="Footnote_397_397"></a><a href="#FNanchor_397_397"><span class="label">[397]</span></a> Od. i. 61.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_398_398" id="Footnote_398_398"></a><a href="#FNanchor_398_398"><span class="label">[398]</span></a> Il. ix. 523.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_399_399" id="Footnote_399_399"></a><a href="#FNanchor_399_399"><span class="label">[399]</span></a> Od. iii. 131.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_400_400" id="Footnote_400_400"></a><a href="#FNanchor_400_400"><span class="label">[400]</span></a> Ibid. 164.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_401_401" id="Footnote_401_401"></a><a href="#FNanchor_401_401"><span class="label">[401]</span></a> Ibid. 135.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_402_402" id="Footnote_402_402"></a><a href="#FNanchor_402_402"><span class="label">[402]</span></a> Il. vii. 450.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_403_403" id="Footnote_403_403"></a><a href="#FNanchor_403_403"><span class="label">[403]</span></a> Ibid. 459.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_404_404" id="Footnote_404_404"></a><a href="#FNanchor_404_404"><span class="label">[404]</span></a> Il. xii. 3, 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_405_405" id="Footnote_405_405"></a><a href="#FNanchor_405_405"><span class="label">[405]</span></a> Acts xvii. 22.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_406_406" id="Footnote_406_406"></a><a href="#FNanchor_406_406"><span class="label">[406]</span></a> Il. iii. 451-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_407_407" id="Footnote_407_407"></a><a href="#FNanchor_407_407"><span class="label">[407]</span></a> Il. iv. 220.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_408_408" id="Footnote_408_408"></a><a href="#FNanchor_408_408"><span class="label">[408]</span></a> Il. iii. 444.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_409_409" id="Footnote_409_409"></a><a href="#FNanchor_409_409"><span class="label">[409]</span></a> See inf. Aoidos, sect. <a href="#Page_555">vi.</a></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_410_410" id="Footnote_410_410"></a><a href="#FNanchor_410_410"><span class="label">[410]</span></a> Il. ii. 589.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_411_411" id="Footnote_411_411"></a><a href="#FNanchor_411_411"><span class="label">[411]</span></a> Düntzer, pp. 9-16. Fragm. iv. xi. xv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_412_412" id="Footnote_412_412"></a><a href="#FNanchor_412_412"><span class="label">[412]</span></a> Il. vi. 352.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_413_413" id="Footnote_413_413"></a><a href="#FNanchor_413_413"><span class="label">[413]</span></a> Il. iii. 428-36, and vi. 351.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_414_414" id="Footnote_414_414"></a><a href="#FNanchor_414_414"><span class="label">[414]</span></a> Il. vi. 356.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_415_415" id="Footnote_415_415"></a><a href="#FNanchor_415_415"><span class="label">[415]</span></a> Il. iii. 453.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_416_416" id="Footnote_416_416"></a><a href="#FNanchor_416_416"><span class="label">[416]</span></a> Il. vii. 354-64, and xi. 123.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_417_417" id="Footnote_417_417"></a><a href="#FNanchor_417_417"><span class="label">[417]</span></a> Il. iii. 46-53.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_418_418" id="Footnote_418_418"></a><a href="#FNanchor_418_418"><span class="label">[418]</span></a> Ibid. 68-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_419_419" id="Footnote_419_419"></a><a href="#FNanchor_419_419"><span class="label">[419]</span></a> Ibid. 351-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_420_420" id="Footnote_420_420"></a><a href="#FNanchor_420_420"><span class="label">[420]</span></a> Il. ii. 588-90.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_421_421" id="Footnote_421_421"></a><a href="#FNanchor_421_421"><span class="label">[421]</span></a> Il. xiii. 620-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_422_422" id="Footnote_422_422"></a><a href="#FNanchor_422_422"><span class="label">[422]</span></a> Od. xxi. 146. xxiii. 67. xiii. 193. xxii. 64. See Olympus, sect. ii. p. 162.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_423_423" id="Footnote_423_423"></a><a href="#FNanchor_423_423"><span class="label">[423]</span></a> Od. xiii. 258 et seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_424_424" id="Footnote_424_424"></a><a href="#FNanchor_424_424"><span class="label">[424]</span></a> See Il. iii. 139. Od. iv. 259-61.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_425_425" id="Footnote_425_425"></a><a href="#FNanchor_425_425"><span class="label">[425]</span></a> Il. iii. 354.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_426_426" id="Footnote_426_426"></a><a href="#FNanchor_426_426"><span class="label">[426]</span></a> Vid. Od. xxi. 22-30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_427_427" id="Footnote_427_427"></a><a href="#FNanchor_427_427"><span class="label">[427]</span></a> Il. iii. 46-57.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_428_428" id="Footnote_428_428"></a><a href="#FNanchor_428_428"><span class="label">[428]</span></a> Il. iii. 57.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_429_429" id="Footnote_429_429"></a><a href="#FNanchor_429_429"><span class="label">[429]</span></a> Greek Lit. vol. i. p. 339.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_430_430" id="Footnote_430_430"></a><a href="#FNanchor_430_430"><span class="label">[430]</span></a> Il. v. 269.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_431_431" id="Footnote_431_431"></a><a href="#FNanchor_431_431"><span class="label">[431]</span></a> Il. iii. 105.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_432_432" id="Footnote_432_432"></a><a href="#FNanchor_432_432"><span class="label">[432]</span></a> Il. xi. 139.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_433_433" id="Footnote_433_433"></a><a href="#FNanchor_433_433"><span class="label">[433]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_434_434" id="Footnote_434_434"></a><a href="#FNanchor_434_434"><span class="label">[434]</span></a> Sup. p. <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_435_435" id="Footnote_435_435"></a><a href="#FNanchor_435_435"><span class="label">[435]</span></a> Od. v. 121.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_436_436" id="Footnote_436_436"></a><a href="#FNanchor_436_436"><span class="label">[436]</span></a> Od. xi. 572.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_437_437" id="Footnote_437_437"></a><a href="#FNanchor_437_437"><span class="label">[437]</span></a> Od. v. 128.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_438_438" id="Footnote_438_438"></a><a href="#FNanchor_438_438"><span class="label">[438]</span></a> Il. iii. 154-60.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_439_439" id="Footnote_439_439"></a><a href="#FNanchor_439_439"><span class="label">[439]</span></a> Od. xviii. 160-212.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_440_440" id="Footnote_440_440"></a><a href="#FNanchor_440_440"><span class="label">[440]</span></a> Lit. Greece, vol. i. p. 341 and <i>seqq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_441_441" id="Footnote_441_441"></a><a href="#FNanchor_441_441"><span class="label">[441]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 493-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_442_442" id="Footnote_442_442"></a><a href="#FNanchor_442_442"><span class="label">[442]</span></a> Il. vi. 248.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_443_443" id="Footnote_443_443"></a><a href="#FNanchor_443_443"><span class="label">[443]</span></a> See particularly vi. 87 and seqq. 364 and seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_444_444" id="Footnote_444_444"></a><a href="#FNanchor_444_444"><span class="label">[444]</span></a> Possibly one of these is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">νόθος</span>, -illegitimate: for they are together -in the same chariot, as -Antiphus and Isus were. One of -the two would be the charioteer; -who was commonly, though not -always, an inferior.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_445_445" id="Footnote_445_445"></a><a href="#FNanchor_445_445"><span class="label">[445]</span></a> Il. xxii. 51, 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_446_446" id="Footnote_446_446"></a><a href="#FNanchor_446_446"><span class="label">[446]</span></a> Il. xx. 407. xxi. 79, 95.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_447_447" id="Footnote_447_447"></a><a href="#FNanchor_447_447"><span class="label">[447]</span></a> Il. xxi. 88.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_448_448" id="Footnote_448_448"></a><a href="#FNanchor_448_448"><span class="label">[448]</span></a> Il. v. 71.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_449_449" id="Footnote_449_449"></a><a href="#FNanchor_449_449"><span class="label">[449]</span></a> Il. vii. 298. xi. 224.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_450_450" id="Footnote_450_450"></a><a href="#FNanchor_450_450"><span class="label">[450]</span></a> Tac. Germ. c. 18.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_451_451" id="Footnote_451_451"></a><a href="#FNanchor_451_451"><span class="label">[451]</span></a> Od. i. 35.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_452_452" id="Footnote_452_452"></a><a href="#FNanchor_452_452"><span class="label">[452]</span></a> Od. xxii. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_453_453" id="Footnote_453_453"></a><a href="#FNanchor_453_453"><span class="label">[453]</span></a> Il. xxii. 370.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_454_454" id="Footnote_454_454"></a><a href="#FNanchor_454_454"><span class="label">[454]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 632.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_455_455" id="Footnote_455_455"></a><a href="#FNanchor_455_455"><span class="label">[455]</span></a> Il. xii. 94. and Od. iv. 276. -See also the case of Euphorbus, Il. -xvii. 51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_456_456" id="Footnote_456_456"></a><a href="#FNanchor_456_456"><span class="label">[456]</span></a> The sense of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄριστος</span> in Homer, -though emphatic, is not absolute.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_457_457" id="Footnote_457_457"></a><a href="#FNanchor_457_457"><span class="label">[457]</span></a> Il. iii. 106.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_458_458" id="Footnote_458_458"></a><a href="#FNanchor_458_458"><span class="label">[458]</span></a> See Il. v. 482.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_459_459" id="Footnote_459_459"></a><a href="#FNanchor_459_459"><span class="label">[459]</span></a> Il. xii. 319.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_460_460" id="Footnote_460_460"></a><a href="#FNanchor_460_460"><span class="label">[460]</span></a> Il. vi. 207.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_461_461" id="Footnote_461_461"></a><a href="#FNanchor_461_461"><span class="label">[461]</span></a> Il. vi. 193.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_462_462" id="Footnote_462_462"></a><a href="#FNanchor_462_462"><span class="label">[462]</span></a> On the <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν</span>, see Achæis, sect. ix.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_463_463" id="Footnote_463_463"></a><a href="#FNanchor_463_463"><span class="label">[463]</span></a> xx. 180.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_464_464" id="Footnote_464_464"></a><a href="#FNanchor_464_464"><span class="label">[464]</span></a> Idyll. xv. 139.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_465_465" id="Footnote_465_465"></a><a href="#FNanchor_465_465"><span class="label">[465]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 496. vi. 252.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_466_466" id="Footnote_466_466"></a><a href="#FNanchor_466_466"><span class="label">[466]</span></a> Il. xx. 240.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_467_467" id="Footnote_467_467"></a><a href="#FNanchor_467_467"><span class="label">[467]</span></a> Il. xxii. 56, 433, 507. xxiv. 29.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_468_468" id="Footnote_468_468"></a><a href="#FNanchor_468_468"><span class="label">[468]</span></a> Il. vi. 402, and xxii. 506.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_469_469" id="Footnote_469_469"></a><a href="#FNanchor_469_469"><span class="label">[469]</span></a> Il. vi. 477.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_470_470" id="Footnote_470_470"></a><a href="#FNanchor_470_470"><span class="label">[470]</span></a> Il. vi. 313, 317, 370.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_471_471" id="Footnote_471_471"></a><a href="#FNanchor_471_471"><span class="label">[471]</span></a> Ibid. 242-50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_472_472" id="Footnote_472_472"></a><a href="#FNanchor_472_472"><span class="label">[472]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 765.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_473_473" id="Footnote_473_473"></a><a href="#FNanchor_473_473"><span class="label">[473]</span></a> Il. vi. 426-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_474_474" id="Footnote_474_474"></a><a href="#FNanchor_474_474"><span class="label">[474]</span></a> Il. xxii. 363.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_475_475" id="Footnote_475_475"></a><a href="#FNanchor_475_475"><span class="label">[475]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 725.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_476_476" id="Footnote_476_476"></a><a href="#FNanchor_476_476"><span class="label">[476]</span></a> Possibly Horace meant to -convey this opinion in the words -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Quid Paris? ut salvus regnet, -vivatque beatus, Cogi posse negat</i>. -Epist. I. ii. 10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_477_477" id="Footnote_477_477"></a><a href="#FNanchor_477_477"><span class="label">[477]</span></a> Achæis, sect. ix. p. 492.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_478_478" id="Footnote_478_478"></a><a href="#FNanchor_478_478"><span class="label">[478]</span></a> One only of the epithets of -the word Ilios seems to point out -that it may too mean the district. -It is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὔπωλος</span>, used Il. v. 551, and -in four other places.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_479_479" id="Footnote_479_479"></a><a href="#FNanchor_479_479"><span class="label">[479]</span></a> Il. xx. 230.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_480_480" id="Footnote_480_480"></a><a href="#FNanchor_480_480"><span class="label">[480]</span></a> Ibid. 189.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_481_481" id="Footnote_481_481"></a><a href="#FNanchor_481_481"><span class="label">[481]</span></a> Il. ii. 815. So likewise -Il. vi. 111. xiii. 755. xvii. 14. xviii. 229.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_482_482" id="Footnote_482_482"></a><a href="#FNanchor_482_482"><span class="label">[482]</span></a> Ver. 816.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_483_483" id="Footnote_483_483"></a><a href="#FNanchor_483_483"><span class="label">[483]</span></a> Ver. 819.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_484_484" id="Footnote_484_484"></a><a href="#FNanchor_484_484"><span class="label">[484]</span></a> Ver. 824-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_485_485" id="Footnote_485_485"></a><a href="#FNanchor_485_485"><span class="label">[485]</span></a> Ver. 828.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_486_486" id="Footnote_486_486"></a><a href="#FNanchor_486_486"><span class="label">[486]</span></a> ii. 681.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_487_487" id="Footnote_487_487"></a><a href="#FNanchor_487_487"><span class="label">[487]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 543-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_488_488" id="Footnote_488_488"></a><a href="#FNanchor_488_488"><span class="label">[488]</span></a> Il. xv. 548.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_489_489" id="Footnote_489_489"></a><a href="#FNanchor_489_489"><span class="label">[489]</span></a> Il. iv. 99.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_490_490" id="Footnote_490_490"></a><a href="#FNanchor_490_490"><span class="label">[490]</span></a> P. 585.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_491_491" id="Footnote_491_491"></a><a href="#FNanchor_491_491"><span class="label">[491]</span></a> Il. xiii. 463.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_492_492" id="Footnote_492_492"></a><a href="#FNanchor_492_492"><span class="label">[492]</span></a> See Il. iv. 197, 207. xv. 485.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_493_493" id="Footnote_493_493"></a><a href="#FNanchor_493_493"><span class="label">[493]</span></a> Strabo xiii. 7. p. 584.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_494_494" id="Footnote_494_494"></a><a href="#FNanchor_494_494"><span class="label">[494]</span></a> Il. x. 428-30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_495_495" id="Footnote_495_495"></a><a href="#FNanchor_495_495"><span class="label">[495]</span></a> Od. xi. 519-22.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_496_496" id="Footnote_496_496"></a><a href="#FNanchor_496_496"><span class="label">[496]</span></a> Il. ii. 808. viii. 489.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_497_497" id="Footnote_497_497"></a><a href="#FNanchor_497_497"><span class="label">[497]</span></a> Il. xvii. 223-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_498_498" id="Footnote_498_498"></a><a href="#FNanchor_498_498"><span class="label">[498]</span></a> Il. ii. 795.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_499_499" id="Footnote_499_499"></a><a href="#FNanchor_499_499"><span class="label">[499]</span></a> Il. vii. 379.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_500_500" id="Footnote_500_500"></a><a href="#FNanchor_500_500"><span class="label">[500]</span></a> Il. viii. 489, 542.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_501_501" id="Footnote_501_501"></a><a href="#FNanchor_501_501"><span class="label">[501]</span></a> Il. vii. 414-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_502_502" id="Footnote_502_502"></a><a href="#FNanchor_502_502"><span class="label">[502]</span></a> Il. xi. 138.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_503_503" id="Footnote_503_503"></a><a href="#FNanchor_503_503"><span class="label">[503]</span></a> Ibid. 123.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_504_504" id="Footnote_504_504"></a><a href="#FNanchor_504_504"><span class="label">[504]</span></a> Il. xii. 211-14.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_505_505" id="Footnote_505_505"></a><a href="#FNanchor_505_505"><span class="label">[505]</span></a> Il. xi. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_506_506" id="Footnote_506_506"></a><a href="#FNanchor_506_506"><span class="label">[506]</span></a> Il. xx. 232.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_507_507" id="Footnote_507_507"></a><a href="#FNanchor_507_507"><span class="label">[507]</span></a> Il. iii. 150.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_508_508" id="Footnote_508_508"></a><a href="#FNanchor_508_508"><span class="label">[508]</span></a> Il. ii. 796.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_509_509" id="Footnote_509_509"></a><a href="#FNanchor_509_509"><span class="label">[509]</span></a> Od. viii. 170, 5, 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_510_510" id="Footnote_510_510"></a><a href="#FNanchor_510_510"><span class="label">[510]</span></a> Il. xiii. 726-34.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_511_511" id="Footnote_511_511"></a><a href="#FNanchor_511_511"><span class="label">[511]</span></a> Il. iii. 2, 8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_512_512" id="Footnote_512_512"></a><a href="#FNanchor_512_512"><span class="label">[512]</span></a> Il. iv. 429.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_513_513" id="Footnote_513_513"></a><a href="#FNanchor_513_513"><span class="label">[513]</span></a> Ibid. 436.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_514_514" id="Footnote_514_514"></a><a href="#FNanchor_514_514"><span class="label">[514]</span></a> Od. iv. 258.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_515_515" id="Footnote_515_515"></a><a href="#FNanchor_515_515"><span class="label">[515]</span></a> Il. xv. 546-51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_516_516" id="Footnote_516_516"></a><a href="#FNanchor_516_516"><span class="label">[516]</span></a> Il. xx. 188.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_517_517" id="Footnote_517_517"></a><a href="#FNanchor_517_517"><span class="label">[517]</span></a> Il. xxi. 37. 77.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_518_518" id="Footnote_518_518"></a><a href="#FNanchor_518_518"><span class="label">[518]</span></a> Il. xi. 105.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_519_519" id="Footnote_519_519"></a><a href="#FNanchor_519_519"><span class="label">[519]</span></a> Il. ii. 821. v. 313.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_520_520" id="Footnote_520_520"></a><a href="#FNanchor_520_520"><span class="label">[520]</span></a> Il. vi. 25.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_521_521" id="Footnote_521_521"></a><a href="#FNanchor_521_521"><span class="label">[521]</span></a> Il. xvi. 422.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_522_522" id="Footnote_522_522"></a><a href="#FNanchor_522_522"><span class="label">[522]</span></a> Il. xvii. 336.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_523_523" id="Footnote_523_523"></a><a href="#FNanchor_523_523"><span class="label">[523]</span></a> Il. v. 787. viii. 228. <i>et alibi</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_524_524" id="Footnote_524_524"></a><a href="#FNanchor_524_524"><span class="label">[524]</span></a> Æn. xi. 286.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_525_525" id="Footnote_525_525"></a><a href="#FNanchor_525_525"><span class="label">[525]</span></a> Achæis, or Ethnology; sect. vii. p. 336.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_526_526" id="Footnote_526_526"></a><a href="#FNanchor_526_526"><span class="label">[526]</span></a> Il. ii. 645-80.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_527_527" id="Footnote_527_527"></a><a href="#FNanchor_527_527"><span class="label">[527]</span></a> Il. xiv. 225-30. xiii. 10-16, -33. xiv. 281. xxiv. 78, 753, 434. -Od. iii. 169-72.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_528_528" id="Footnote_528_528"></a><a href="#FNanchor_528_528"><span class="label">[528]</span></a> Il. xiv. 225-30. Od. v. 50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_529_529" id="Footnote_529_529"></a><a href="#FNanchor_529_529"><span class="label">[529]</span></a> Forbiger thinks he knew the -southern coast of the Black sea -to a certain extent. <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Handbuch -der Alten Geographie</span>, sect. 4. -p. 10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_530_530" id="Footnote_530_530"></a><a href="#FNanchor_530_530"><span class="label">[530]</span></a> Il. xii. 17-24.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_531_531" id="Footnote_531_531"></a><a href="#FNanchor_531_531"><span class="label">[531]</span></a> Il. xiv. 280-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_532_532" id="Footnote_532_532"></a><a href="#FNanchor_532_532"><span class="label">[532]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 543-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_533_533" id="Footnote_533_533"></a><a href="#FNanchor_533_533"><span class="label">[533]</span></a> Il. vi. 184.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_534_534" id="Footnote_534_534"></a><a href="#FNanchor_534_534"><span class="label">[534]</span></a> Achæis, or Ethnology, sect. iv. p. 235.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_535_535" id="Footnote_535_535"></a><a href="#FNanchor_535_535"><span class="label">[535]</span></a> Il. ii. 844, 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_536_536" id="Footnote_536_536"></a><a href="#FNanchor_536_536"><span class="label">[536]</span></a> Od. iv. 83.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_537_537" id="Footnote_537_537"></a><a href="#FNanchor_537_537"><span class="label">[537]</span></a> Od. i. 105.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_538_538" id="Footnote_538_538"></a><a href="#FNanchor_538_538"><span class="label">[538]</span></a> Sup. Ethnology, sect. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_539_539" id="Footnote_539_539"></a><a href="#FNanchor_539_539"><span class="label">[539]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_540_540" id="Footnote_540_540"></a><a href="#FNanchor_540_540"><span class="label">[540]</span></a> Od. iii. 320-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_541_541" id="Footnote_541_541"></a><a href="#FNanchor_541_541"><span class="label">[541]</span></a> Od. xiv. 243.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_542_542" id="Footnote_542_542"></a><a href="#FNanchor_542_542"><span class="label">[542]</span></a> On Od. iv. 354.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_543_543" id="Footnote_543_543"></a><a href="#FNanchor_543_543"><span class="label">[543]</span></a> Od. iii. 299.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_544_544" id="Footnote_544_544"></a><a href="#FNanchor_544_544"><span class="label">[544]</span></a> See Ethnology, sect. iv. p. 304.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_545_545" id="Footnote_545_545"></a><a href="#FNanchor_545_545"><span class="label">[545]</span></a> Hes. Theog. 1011-15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_546_546" id="Footnote_546_546"></a><a href="#FNanchor_546_546"><span class="label">[546]</span></a> Müller’s Orchomenos, p. 274.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_547_547" id="Footnote_547_547"></a><a href="#FNanchor_547_547"><span class="label">[547]</span></a> Il. xii. 239, 40.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_548_548" id="Footnote_548_548"></a><a href="#FNanchor_548_548"><span class="label">[548]</span></a> Od. x. 190-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_549_549" id="Footnote_549_549"></a><a href="#FNanchor_549_549"><span class="label">[549]</span></a> Wood (Genius of Homer, p. -23,) says, ‘only four,’ meaning -only four winds. But it is pretty -clear that Homer’s four winds -were not at anything like ninety -degrees from one another. There -is in Homer no word meaning -strictly either south, or north. -<i>Daksha</i>, however, from whence -is derived <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς</span>, means <i>southerly</i> -as well as <i>on the right</i>: but probably -S. E. rather than S. Pott, -<span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Etymolog. Forschungen</span>, II. 186, 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_550_550" id="Footnote_550_550"></a><a href="#FNanchor_550_550"><span class="label">[550]</span></a> Od. xii. 427.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_551_551" id="Footnote_551_551"></a><a href="#FNanchor_551_551"><span class="label">[551]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 194.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_552_552" id="Footnote_552_552"></a><a href="#FNanchor_552_552"><span class="label">[552]</span></a> Od. iv. 565-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_553_553" id="Footnote_553_553"></a><a href="#FNanchor_553_553"><span class="label">[553]</span></a> Il. ix. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_554_554" id="Footnote_554_554"></a><a href="#FNanchor_554_554"><span class="label">[554]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 194, 212.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_555_555" id="Footnote_555_555"></a><a href="#FNanchor_555_555"><span class="label">[555]</span></a> Il. ii. 144-6, 147-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_556_556" id="Footnote_556_556"></a><a href="#FNanchor_556_556"><span class="label">[556]</span></a> The arrangement of these -similes tells powerfully against -the ingenious argument of Mr. -Wood concerning the birthplace -of Homer. Genius of Homer, -pp. 7-33.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_557_557" id="Footnote_557_557"></a><a href="#FNanchor_557_557"><span class="label">[557]</span></a> See General Reid’s Law of -Storms and Variable Winds. -London. 1849.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_558_558" id="Footnote_558_558"></a><a href="#FNanchor_558_558"><span class="label">[558]</span></a> Buttmann. Lexil. voc. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κέλαινος</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_559_559" id="Footnote_559_559"></a><a href="#FNanchor_559_559"><span class="label">[559]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 214.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_560_560" id="Footnote_560_560"></a><a href="#FNanchor_560_560"><span class="label">[560]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 214, as above.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_561_561" id="Footnote_561_561"></a><a href="#FNanchor_561_561"><span class="label">[561]</span></a> Od. xiv. 253.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_562_562" id="Footnote_562_562"></a><a href="#FNanchor_562_562"><span class="label">[562]</span></a> Il. xiv. 255. xv. 26.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_563_563" id="Footnote_563_563"></a><a href="#FNanchor_563_563"><span class="label">[563]</span></a> Od. xix. 200.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_564_564" id="Footnote_564_564"></a><a href="#FNanchor_564_564"><span class="label">[564]</span></a> Od. ix. 81.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_565_565" id="Footnote_565_565"></a><a href="#FNanchor_565_565"><span class="label">[565]</span></a> Il. ii. 144-6. xvi. 765. Od. v. 330. xii. 326.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_566_566" id="Footnote_566_566"></a><a href="#FNanchor_566_566"><span class="label">[566]</span></a> Friedreich has discussed the -winds of Homer (<span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Realien der Il. -und Od.</span> §. 3). His results are -to me unsatisfactory: but the -fault seems to lie in his basis. -For (1) he fixes the four Winds -of Homer as the four cardinal -points: and (2) he finds <i>data</i> -for ascertaining the Winds in the -Passages of the Outer Geography, -instead of determining those -Passages themselves by the Winds, -after these latter have been ascertained -from evidence belonging -to the sphere of Homer’s -own experience.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_567_567" id="Footnote_567_567"></a><a href="#FNanchor_567_567"><span class="label">[567]</span></a> Liddell and Scott <i>in voc.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_568_568" id="Footnote_568_568"></a><a href="#FNanchor_568_568"><span class="label">[568]</span></a> Od. xi. 13-16. xii. 1-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_569_569" id="Footnote_569_569"></a><a href="#FNanchor_569_569"><span class="label">[569]</span></a> See Friedreich, <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Realien</span>, §. 9. p. 19.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_570_570" id="Footnote_570_570"></a><a href="#FNanchor_570_570"><span class="label">[570]</span></a> Il. ix. 362.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_571_571" id="Footnote_571_571"></a><a href="#FNanchor_571_571"><span class="label">[571]</span></a> Od. xiv. 301.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_572_572" id="Footnote_572_572"></a><a href="#FNanchor_572_572"><span class="label">[572]</span></a> Ibid. 310-15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_573_573" id="Footnote_573_573"></a><a href="#FNanchor_573_573"><span class="label">[573]</span></a> Od. v. 249-51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_574_574" id="Footnote_574_574"></a><a href="#FNanchor_574_574"><span class="label">[574]</span></a> Od. vii. 325.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_575_575" id="Footnote_575_575"></a><a href="#FNanchor_575_575"><span class="label">[575]</span></a> Od. xiii. 81, 86.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_576_576" id="Footnote_576_576"></a><a href="#FNanchor_576_576"><span class="label">[576]</span></a> On this hypothesis is founded the Homeric <i>Erdkarte</i> of Forbiger, -<span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Handbuch der Alt. Geogr.</span> I. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_577_577" id="Footnote_577_577"></a><a href="#FNanchor_577_577"><span class="label">[577]</span></a> Il. xiii. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_578_578" id="Footnote_578_578"></a><a href="#FNanchor_578_578"><span class="label">[578]</span></a> Od. vii. 19-26.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_579_579" id="Footnote_579_579"></a><a href="#FNanchor_579_579"><span class="label">[579]</span></a> Od. v. 43-58.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_580_580" id="Footnote_580_580"></a><a href="#FNanchor_580_580"><span class="label">[580]</span></a> Il. xiv. 225-30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_581_581" id="Footnote_581_581"></a><a href="#FNanchor_581_581"><span class="label">[581]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_582_582" id="Footnote_582_582"></a><a href="#FNanchor_582_582"><span class="label">[582]</span></a> Od. iv. 83-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_583_583" id="Footnote_583_583"></a><a href="#FNanchor_583_583"><span class="label">[583]</span></a> Od. xii. 325, 427.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_584_584" id="Footnote_584_584"></a><a href="#FNanchor_584_584"><span class="label">[584]</span></a> Od. v. 485. x. 25. xii. 407.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_585_585" id="Footnote_585_585"></a><a href="#FNanchor_585_585"><span class="label">[585]</span></a> Od. xi. 13, 21.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_586_586" id="Footnote_586_586"></a><a href="#FNanchor_586_586"><span class="label">[586]</span></a> Od. X. 507.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_587_587" id="Footnote_587_587"></a><a href="#FNanchor_587_587"><span class="label">[587]</span></a> Od. xii. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_588_588" id="Footnote_588_588"></a><a href="#FNanchor_588_588"><span class="label">[588]</span></a> Ibid. 39, 167.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_589_589" id="Footnote_589_589"></a><a href="#FNanchor_589_589"><span class="label">[589]</span></a> Ibid. 56.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_590_590" id="Footnote_590_590"></a><a href="#FNanchor_590_590"><span class="label">[590]</span></a> Ibid. 109, 10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_591_591" id="Footnote_591_591"></a><a href="#FNanchor_591_591"><span class="label">[591]</span></a> Od. i. 75. xii. 373 <i>et seqq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_592_592" id="Footnote_592_592"></a><a href="#FNanchor_592_592"><span class="label">[592]</span></a> Od. xi. 104-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_593_593" id="Footnote_593_593"></a><a href="#FNanchor_593_593"><span class="label">[593]</span></a> Od. xii. 127.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_594_594" id="Footnote_594_594"></a><a href="#FNanchor_594_594"><span class="label">[594]</span></a> Quart. Rev. vol. 102. p. 324.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_595_595" id="Footnote_595_595"></a><a href="#FNanchor_595_595"><span class="label">[595]</span></a> Od. x. 135-9, and xii. 1-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_596_596" id="Footnote_596_596"></a><a href="#FNanchor_596_596"><span class="label">[596]</span></a> Danby Seymour’s Black Sea -and Sea of Azof, ch. xvii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_597_597" id="Footnote_597_597"></a><a href="#FNanchor_597_597"><span class="label">[597]</span></a> Ibid. The <i>minimum</i> appears -to be fourteen feet: but it seems -to have been much deeper in old -times.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_598_598" id="Footnote_598_598"></a><a href="#FNanchor_598_598"><span class="label">[598]</span></a> Od. xii. 10-13.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_599_599" id="Footnote_599_599"></a><a href="#FNanchor_599_599"><span class="label">[599]</span></a> Müller’s Orchomenos, p. 269.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_600_600" id="Footnote_600_600"></a><a href="#FNanchor_600_600"><span class="label">[600]</span></a> Mimn. Fragm. x. quoted in Strabo, i. p. 67.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_601_601" id="Footnote_601_601"></a><a href="#FNanchor_601_601"><span class="label">[601]</span></a> Müller’s Orchomenos, p. 272. Nitzsch, Od. xii. 361.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_602_602" id="Footnote_602_602"></a><a href="#FNanchor_602_602"><span class="label">[602]</span></a> Od. xii. 325, 6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_603_603" id="Footnote_603_603"></a><a href="#FNanchor_603_603"><span class="label">[603]</span></a> Od. xii. 380.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_604_604" id="Footnote_604_604"></a><a href="#FNanchor_604_604"><span class="label">[604]</span></a> See Olympus, sect. iii. p. -82.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_605_605" id="Footnote_605_605"></a><a href="#FNanchor_605_605"><span class="label">[605]</span></a> See Achæis, or Ethnology, -sect. x; and Olympus, sect. iv. p. -220, on Persephone.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_606_606" id="Footnote_606_606"></a><a href="#FNanchor_606_606"><span class="label">[606]</span></a> Schönemann de Geogr. Hom. -p. 20. Nitzsch on Od. v. 50, n.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_607_607" id="Footnote_607_607"></a><a href="#FNanchor_607_607"><span class="label">[607]</span></a> Od. v. 268-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_608_608" id="Footnote_608_608"></a><a href="#FNanchor_608_608"><span class="label">[608]</span></a> Od. xiv. 257.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_609_609" id="Footnote_609_609"></a><a href="#FNanchor_609_609"><span class="label">[609]</span></a> Od. i. 50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_610_610" id="Footnote_610_610"></a><a href="#FNanchor_610_610"><span class="label">[610]</span></a> Od. v. 100-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_611_611" id="Footnote_611_611"></a><a href="#FNanchor_611_611"><span class="label">[611]</span></a> Nitzsch on Od. v. 276-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_612_612" id="Footnote_612_612"></a><a href="#FNanchor_612_612"><span class="label">[612]</span></a> Od. v. 50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_613_613" id="Footnote_613_613"></a><a href="#FNanchor_613_613"><span class="label">[613]</span></a> Ibid. 51-3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_614_614" id="Footnote_614_614"></a><a href="#FNanchor_614_614"><span class="label">[614]</span></a> Cramer’s Greece, i. 204.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_615_615" id="Footnote_615_615"></a><a href="#FNanchor_615_615"><span class="label">[615]</span></a> Il. xiv. 226.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_616_616" id="Footnote_616_616"></a><a href="#FNanchor_616_616"><span class="label">[616]</span></a> Od. xii. 447.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_617_617" id="Footnote_617_617"></a><a href="#FNanchor_617_617"><span class="label">[617]</span></a> Od. xiv. 310-15. 301-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_618_618" id="Footnote_618_618"></a><a href="#FNanchor_618_618"><span class="label">[618]</span></a> See sup. p. <a href="#Page_274">274</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_619_619" id="Footnote_619_619"></a><a href="#FNanchor_619_619"><span class="label">[619]</span></a> Od. xii. 403-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_620_620" id="Footnote_620_620"></a><a href="#FNanchor_620_620"><span class="label">[620]</span></a> Od. xi. 11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_621_621" id="Footnote_621_621"></a><a href="#FNanchor_621_621"><span class="label">[621]</span></a> Od. xii. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_622_622" id="Footnote_622_622"></a><a href="#FNanchor_622_622"><span class="label">[622]</span></a> In the well known case of -a noble description in the Antiquary, -Walter Scott has made -the sun set on the east coast of -Great Britain: but <i>this</i> was unawares -and not on purpose. Had -he recited instead of writing, the -error could not have escaped correction.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_623_623" id="Footnote_623_623"></a><a href="#FNanchor_623_623"><span class="label">[623]</span></a> Od. v. 276.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_624_624" id="Footnote_624_624"></a><a href="#FNanchor_624_624"><span class="label">[624]</span></a> Od. v. 160-70.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_625_625" id="Footnote_625_625"></a><a href="#FNanchor_625_625"><span class="label">[625]</span></a> Od. x. 190.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_626_626" id="Footnote_626_626"></a><a href="#FNanchor_626_626"><span class="label">[626]</span></a> See Od. x. 28 and 80.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_627_627" id="Footnote_627_627"></a><a href="#FNanchor_627_627"><span class="label">[627]</span></a> Od. vi. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_628_628" id="Footnote_628_628"></a><a href="#FNanchor_628_628"><span class="label">[628]</span></a> Od. iii. 318.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_629_629" id="Footnote_629_629"></a><a href="#FNanchor_629_629"><span class="label">[629]</span></a> Od. iv. 82.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_630_630" id="Footnote_630_630"></a><a href="#FNanchor_630_630"><span class="label">[630]</span></a> Od. iii. 286-90.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_631_631" id="Footnote_631_631"></a><a href="#FNanchor_631_631"><span class="label">[631]</span></a> Od. xv. 402. Much difficulty -has been raised about this -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Συρίη</span>: see Wood on Homer, pp. -9-16; but surely without need. -We have no occasion to translate -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καθύπερθε</span> into <i>trans</i>, <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πέρην</span>, or <i>beyond</i>. -The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Συρίη νῆσος</span>, or Syros, -has the same bearing in respect to -Delos, as <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ψυρίη</span> in respect to Chios, -which is called <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">καθύπερθε Χίοιο</span>, -Od. iii. 170. It may perhaps -mean <i>to windward</i>, and this -would correspond with the idea -of <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ζέφυρος</span> as the prevailing wind -of the Ægæan. Another difficulty -is made about the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅθι -τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο</span>, which is interpreted -as describing the position relatively -to Delos. I know not why -this should constitute a difficulty -at all, if Syros is to the west -and north of Delos. But there -would be no difficulty, even if -Delos were west of Syros: for -the words <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅθι τροπαὶ ἠελίοιο</span> may -apply grammatically to either of -the two islands as viewed from -the other.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_632_632" id="Footnote_632_632"></a><a href="#FNanchor_632_632"><span class="label">[632]</span></a> Od. xix. 172.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_633_633" id="Footnote_633_633"></a><a href="#FNanchor_633_633"><span class="label">[633]</span></a> Il. iii. 2-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_634_634" id="Footnote_634_634"></a><a href="#FNanchor_634_634"><span class="label">[634]</span></a> Il. xviii. 607.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_635_635" id="Footnote_635_635"></a><a href="#FNanchor_635_635"><span class="label">[635]</span></a> Il. xix. 374.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_636_636" id="Footnote_636_636"></a><a href="#FNanchor_636_636"><span class="label">[636]</span></a> Il. v. 433.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_637_637" id="Footnote_637_637"></a><a href="#FNanchor_637_637"><span class="label">[637]</span></a> Tyrt. ii. 24. Also Anthol. -Græc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_638_638" id="Footnote_638_638"></a><a href="#FNanchor_638_638"><span class="label">[638]</span></a> Plut. Lacon. Instit. (Opp. -vi. 898.) ed. Reiske; Potter’s -Greek. Antiq. B. iii. ch. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_639_639" id="Footnote_639_639"></a><a href="#FNanchor_639_639"><span class="label">[639]</span></a> Il. x. 24, 178.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_640_640" id="Footnote_640_640"></a><a href="#FNanchor_640_640"><span class="label">[640]</span></a> Il. xiii. 130. ix. 537. x. 15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_641_641" id="Footnote_641_641"></a><a href="#FNanchor_641_641"><span class="label">[641]</span></a> Il. iii. 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_642_642" id="Footnote_642_642"></a><a href="#FNanchor_642_642"><span class="label">[642]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 205. i. 423. Od. v. 282, 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_643_643" id="Footnote_643_643"></a><a href="#FNanchor_643_643"><span class="label">[643]</span></a> Od. v. 275. Il. xviii. 489.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_644_644" id="Footnote_644_644"></a><a href="#FNanchor_644_644"><span class="label">[644]</span></a> Od. iv. 561-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_645_645" id="Footnote_645_645"></a><a href="#FNanchor_645_645"><span class="label">[645]</span></a> <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Voyages de Pallas</span>, vol. i. p. 320, Paris 1805.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_646_646" id="Footnote_646_646"></a><a href="#FNanchor_646_646"><span class="label">[646]</span></a> Od. x. 507.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_647_647" id="Footnote_647_647"></a><a href="#FNanchor_647_647"><span class="label">[647]</span></a> Od. x. 508-12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_648_648" id="Footnote_648_648"></a><a href="#FNanchor_648_648"><span class="label">[648]</span></a> Welsford on Engl. Language, -pp. 75, 76, 88. Bleek’s Persian -Vocabulary, (Grammar, p. 170.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_649_649" id="Footnote_649_649"></a><a href="#FNanchor_649_649"><span class="label">[649]</span></a> See Achæis, sect. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_650_650" id="Footnote_650_650"></a><a href="#FNanchor_650_650"><span class="label">[650]</span></a> Od. i. 24.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_651_651" id="Footnote_651_651"></a><a href="#FNanchor_651_651"><span class="label">[651]</span></a> Od. xi. 15.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_652_652" id="Footnote_652_652"></a><a href="#FNanchor_652_652"><span class="label">[652]</span></a> Achæis or Ethnology, sect. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_653_653" id="Footnote_653_653"></a><a href="#FNanchor_653_653"><span class="label">[653]</span></a> Ibid. sect. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_654_654" id="Footnote_654_654"></a><a href="#FNanchor_654_654"><span class="label">[654]</span></a> Obss. <i>in loc.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_655_655" id="Footnote_655_655"></a><a href="#FNanchor_655_655"><span class="label">[655]</span></a> Ver. 317.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_656_656" id="Footnote_656_656"></a><a href="#FNanchor_656_656"><span class="label">[656]</span></a> Ver. 319.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_657_657" id="Footnote_657_657"></a><a href="#FNanchor_657_657"><span class="label">[657]</span></a> Ver. 321.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_658_658" id="Footnote_658_658"></a><a href="#FNanchor_658_658"><span class="label">[658]</span></a> See Jelf’s Gr. Gramm. 103.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_659_659" id="Footnote_659_659"></a><a href="#FNanchor_659_659"><span class="label">[659]</span></a> Od. v. 276, 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_660_660" id="Footnote_660_660"></a><a href="#FNanchor_660_660"><span class="label">[660]</span></a> Liddell and Scott.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_661_661" id="Footnote_661_661"></a><a href="#FNanchor_661_661"><span class="label">[661]</span></a> Il. ii. 341. x. 542.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_662_662" id="Footnote_662_662"></a><a href="#FNanchor_662_662"><span class="label">[662]</span></a> Od. ix. 25, 6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_663_663" id="Footnote_663_663"></a><a href="#FNanchor_663_663"><span class="label">[663]</span></a> Compare the use of the word <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὐώνυμος</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_664_664" id="Footnote_664_664"></a><a href="#FNanchor_664_664"><span class="label">[664]</span></a> Il. xii. 238-40.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_665_665" id="Footnote_665_665"></a><a href="#FNanchor_665_665"><span class="label">[665]</span></a> Jelf’s Gr. Gr. Nos. 633-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_666_666" id="Footnote_666_666"></a><a href="#FNanchor_666_666"><span class="label">[666]</span></a> Od. ii. 421.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_667_667" id="Footnote_667_667"></a><a href="#FNanchor_667_667"><span class="label">[667]</span></a> Od. vi. 117. Il. v. 101.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_668_668" id="Footnote_668_668"></a><a href="#FNanchor_668_668"><span class="label">[668]</span></a> Od. iv. 132.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_669_669" id="Footnote_669_669"></a><a href="#FNanchor_669_669"><span class="label">[669]</span></a> Il. i. 350.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_670_670" id="Footnote_670_670"></a><a href="#FNanchor_670_670"><span class="label">[670]</span></a> Od. iii. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_671_671" id="Footnote_671_671"></a><a href="#FNanchor_671_671"><span class="label">[671]</span></a> Od. iv. 417.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_672_672" id="Footnote_672_672"></a><a href="#FNanchor_672_672"><span class="label">[672]</span></a> Od. vii. 332.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_673_673" id="Footnote_673_673"></a><a href="#FNanchor_673_673"><span class="label">[673]</span></a> Il. ix. 415.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_674_674" id="Footnote_674_674"></a><a href="#FNanchor_674_674"><span class="label">[674]</span></a> Il. i. 350.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_675_675" id="Footnote_675_675"></a><a href="#FNanchor_675_675"><span class="label">[675]</span></a> Il. ii. 308.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_676_676" id="Footnote_676_676"></a><a href="#FNanchor_676_676"><span class="label">[676]</span></a> Ibid. 318.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_677_677" id="Footnote_677_677"></a><a href="#FNanchor_677_677"><span class="label">[677]</span></a> Ibid. 765.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_678_678" id="Footnote_678_678"></a><a href="#FNanchor_678_678"><span class="label">[678]</span></a> Od. xvii. 365.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_679_679" id="Footnote_679_679"></a><a href="#FNanchor_679_679"><span class="label">[679]</span></a> So <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τήν δε</span>, Il. i. 127, and particularly <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">τὴν</span> in Il. i. 389, meaning -Chryseis, who has not been named since v. 372.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_680_680" id="Footnote_680_680"></a><a href="#FNanchor_680_680"><span class="label">[680]</span></a> Hymn. Merc. 153. Cf. 418, 424, 499.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_681_681" id="Footnote_681_681"></a><a href="#FNanchor_681_681"><span class="label">[681]</span></a> Hecuba 1127.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_682_682" id="Footnote_682_682"></a><a href="#FNanchor_682_682"><span class="label">[682]</span></a> I have observed that <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς -ὄρνις</span> means a bird flying from -the left towards the right, and -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀριστερὸς ὄρνις</span>, the reverse. Here -however the force of the epithet -is derived from immediate connection -with the motion implied, -and with the doctrine of omens: -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιὸς ὦμος</span> would of course be the -right shoulder, and <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δεξιή</span>, as we -have seen, may stand alone to -signify the right hand. And so -in general with these words, when -used as epithets, apart from a -preposition implying motion, and -from any relation to omens.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_683_683" id="Footnote_683_683"></a><a href="#FNanchor_683_683"><span class="label">[683]</span></a> Grote’s Hist. of Greece, vol. ii. p. 258 n.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_684_684" id="Footnote_684_684"></a><a href="#FNanchor_684_684"><span class="label">[684]</span></a> Ibid. p. 241 n.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_685_685" id="Footnote_685_685"></a><a href="#FNanchor_685_685"><span class="label">[685]</span></a> Ibid. p. 244 n.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_686_686" id="Footnote_686_686"></a><a href="#FNanchor_686_686"><span class="label">[686]</span></a> Ibid. p. 247.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_687_687" id="Footnote_687_687"></a><a href="#FNanchor_687_687"><span class="label">[687]</span></a> Grote’s History of Greece, vol. ii. p. 210.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_688_688" id="Footnote_688_688"></a><a href="#FNanchor_688_688"><span class="label">[688]</span></a> Ibid. p. 178.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_689_689" id="Footnote_689_689"></a><a href="#FNanchor_689_689"><span class="label">[689]</span></a> Ibid. p. 260, 236, 267.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_690_690" id="Footnote_690_690"></a><a href="#FNanchor_690_690"><span class="label">[690]</span></a> Ibid. p. 269.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_691_691" id="Footnote_691_691"></a><a href="#FNanchor_691_691"><span class="label">[691]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_692_692" id="Footnote_692_692"></a><a href="#FNanchor_692_692"><span class="label">[692]</span></a> Note, pp. 240-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_693_693" id="Footnote_693_693"></a><a href="#FNanchor_693_693"><span class="label">[693]</span></a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὕβρις</span>, Il. i. 203, 214. <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐφυβρίζων</span>, -Il. ix. 368, also 646-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_694_694" id="Footnote_694_694"></a><a href="#FNanchor_694_694"><span class="label">[694]</span></a> Il. ix. 370-6: when he -returns again and again to the -word: <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐξαπατήσειν</span>, 371; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀπάτησε</span>, -375; <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐξαπάφοιτο</span>, 376.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_695_695" id="Footnote_695_695"></a><a href="#FNanchor_695_695"><span class="label">[695]</span></a> Il. i. 152.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_696_696" id="Footnote_696_696"></a><a href="#FNanchor_696_696"><span class="label">[696]</span></a> Ibid. 165-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_697_697" id="Footnote_697_697"></a><a href="#FNanchor_697_697"><span class="label">[697]</span></a> Il. v. 789.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_698_698" id="Footnote_698_698"></a><a href="#FNanchor_698_698"><span class="label">[698]</span></a> Il. i. 225-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_699_699" id="Footnote_699_699"></a><a href="#FNanchor_699_699"><span class="label">[699]</span></a> The <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄλλα</span>, v. 300, must mean -what he had not acquired by -gift of the army; since in Il. 9. -335, as well as in i. 167, 356, he -apparently speaks of Briseis as -the only prize he had received.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_700_700" id="Footnote_700_700"></a><a href="#FNanchor_700_700"><span class="label">[700]</span></a> Il. v. 605, 702.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_701_701" id="Footnote_701_701"></a><a href="#FNanchor_701_701"><span class="label">[701]</span></a> Il. ix. 26.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_702_702" id="Footnote_702_702"></a><a href="#FNanchor_702_702"><span class="label">[702]</span></a> Il. xix. 67.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_703_703" id="Footnote_703_703"></a><a href="#FNanchor_703_703"><span class="label">[703]</span></a> Ibid. 134-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_704_704" id="Footnote_704_704"></a><a href="#FNanchor_704_704"><span class="label">[704]</span></a> Od. viii. 390-415.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_705_705" id="Footnote_705_705"></a><a href="#FNanchor_705_705"><span class="label">[705]</span></a> Il. ix. 336.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_706_706" id="Footnote_706_706"></a><a href="#FNanchor_706_706"><span class="label">[706]</span></a> Il. i. 352-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_707_707" id="Footnote_707_707"></a><a href="#FNanchor_707_707"><span class="label">[707]</span></a> Il. ix. 624-42. Sup. Agorè, p. <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_708_708" id="Footnote_708_708"></a><a href="#FNanchor_708_708"><span class="label">[708]</span></a> Ibid. 237-43, and 304-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_709_709" id="Footnote_709_709"></a><a href="#FNanchor_709_709"><span class="label">[709]</span></a> Ibid. 357.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_710_710" id="Footnote_710_710"></a><a href="#FNanchor_710_710"><span class="label">[710]</span></a> Ibid. 617.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_711_711" id="Footnote_711_711"></a><a href="#FNanchor_711_711"><span class="label">[711]</span></a> Il. ix. 649-55.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_712_712" id="Footnote_712_712"></a><a href="#FNanchor_712_712"><span class="label">[712]</span></a> On the character of Achilles, -I recommend reference to Colonel -Mure, Lit. Greece, i. 273-91, -and 304-14. In no part of his -treatment of the poems has that -excellent Homerist (if I may presume -to say so) done better service. -See likewise Professor Wilson’s -Essays, Critique iv: and the -Prælections of the Rev. J. Keble, -i. 90-104. This refined work, -which criticizes the poems in the -spirit of a Bard, set an early example, -at least to England, of -elevating the tone of Homeric -study.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_713_713" id="Footnote_713_713"></a><a href="#FNanchor_713_713"><span class="label">[713]</span></a> Il. xvi. 780.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_714_714" id="Footnote_714_714"></a><a href="#FNanchor_714_714"><span class="label">[714]</span></a> Il. vii. 93.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_715_715" id="Footnote_715_715"></a><a href="#FNanchor_715_715"><span class="label">[715]</span></a> Since the first portion of this -work went to press, I have found -from the recent and still unfinished -work of Welcher, <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griechische -Götterlehre</i>, i. 2. n., that -philological evidence appears to -have been recently obtained of a -close relationship between the -Lycians and the Greeks.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_716_716" id="Footnote_716_716"></a><a href="#FNanchor_716_716"><span class="label">[716]</span></a> Il. xii. 397-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_717_717" id="Footnote_717_717"></a><a href="#FNanchor_717_717"><span class="label">[717]</span></a> Il. xi. 67-83.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_718_718" id="Footnote_718_718"></a><a href="#FNanchor_718_718"><span class="label">[718]</span></a> Ibid. 90.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_719_719" id="Footnote_719_719"></a><a href="#FNanchor_719_719"><span class="label">[719]</span></a> Il. viii. 336. xvi. 569. xvii. 596.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_720_720" id="Footnote_720_720"></a><a href="#FNanchor_720_720"><span class="label">[720]</span></a> Il. xvi. 656.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_721_721" id="Footnote_721_721"></a><a href="#FNanchor_721_721"><span class="label">[721]</span></a> This would be best shown by -a list of the considerable personages -slain on the two sides respectively.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_722_722" id="Footnote_722_722"></a><a href="#FNanchor_722_722"><span class="label">[722]</span></a> Ver. 421-38.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_723_723" id="Footnote_723_723"></a><a href="#FNanchor_723_723"><span class="label">[723]</span></a> Ver. 517-20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_724_724" id="Footnote_724_724"></a><a href="#FNanchor_724_724"><span class="label">[724]</span></a> Il. v. 517-21.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_725_725" id="Footnote_725_725"></a><a href="#FNanchor_725_725"><span class="label">[725]</span></a> Il. vii. 307-12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_726_726" id="Footnote_726_726"></a><a href="#FNanchor_726_726"><span class="label">[726]</span></a> Compare Il. ii. 768, with Il. v. 414.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_727_727" id="Footnote_727_727"></a><a href="#FNanchor_727_727"><span class="label">[727]</span></a> Il. xi. 185-209.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_728_728" id="Footnote_728_728"></a><a href="#FNanchor_728_728"><span class="label">[728]</span></a> Il. xi. 252, 437.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_729_729" id="Footnote_729_729"></a><a href="#FNanchor_729_729"><span class="label">[729]</span></a> Exc. ii. ad Il. xxiv. s. iv. vol. viii. p. 801. See, however, also p. 802.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_730_730" id="Footnote_730_730"></a><a href="#FNanchor_730_730"><span class="label">[730]</span></a> Il. ix. 697-709.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_731_731" id="Footnote_731_731"></a><a href="#FNanchor_731_731"><span class="label">[731]</span></a> See Il. i. 226-8. xviii. 509-13. and especially xiii. 275-86: and -Sup. Agorè, p. <a href="#Page_92">92</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_732_732" id="Footnote_732_732"></a><a href="#FNanchor_732_732"><span class="label">[732]</span></a> He bears the chief part from 206. to 488.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_733_733" id="Footnote_733_733"></a><a href="#FNanchor_733_733"><span class="label">[733]</span></a> Il. xvi. 644.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_734_734" id="Footnote_734_734"></a><a href="#FNanchor_734_734"><span class="label">[734]</span></a> In his ‘Examination of the -Primary Argument of the Iliad.’ -Dedicated to Lord Grenville. 1821.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_735_735" id="Footnote_735_735"></a><a href="#FNanchor_735_735"><span class="label">[735]</span></a> Il. ix. 646-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_736_736" id="Footnote_736_736"></a><a href="#FNanchor_736_736"><span class="label">[736]</span></a> Il. xvi. 93.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_737_737" id="Footnote_737_737"></a><a href="#FNanchor_737_737"><span class="label">[737]</span></a> See the ‘Primary Argument of the Iliad,’ pp. 241-73.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_738_738" id="Footnote_738_738"></a><a href="#FNanchor_738_738"><span class="label">[738]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 483, 631. Sup. Ilios, p. <a href="#Page_216">216</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_739_739" id="Footnote_739_739"></a><a href="#FNanchor_739_739"><span class="label">[739]</span></a> Il. xx. 233-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_740_740" id="Footnote_740_740"></a><a href="#FNanchor_740_740"><span class="label">[740]</span></a> For example, we might -quote the Orlando Furioso of -Ariosto; and the very vulgar -poet, Forteguerra, in the Ricciardetto, -vi. 23: -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="it" xml:lang="it" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">Il nettar beve, e Ganimede il mesce,</div> - <div class="verse">Che tanto a Giuno sua spiace e rincresce.</div> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_741_741" id="Footnote_741_741"></a><a href="#FNanchor_741_741"><span class="label">[741]</span></a> Il. xi. 1. Od. v. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_742_742" id="Footnote_742_742"></a><a href="#FNanchor_742_742"><span class="label">[742]</span></a> Hymn. ad Ven. 45-80.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_743_743" id="Footnote_743_743"></a><a href="#FNanchor_743_743"><span class="label">[743]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 30.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_744_744" id="Footnote_744_744"></a><a href="#FNanchor_744_744"><span class="label">[744]</span></a> Il. iii. 64, 440, 415.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_745_745" id="Footnote_745_745"></a><a href="#FNanchor_745_745"><span class="label">[745]</span></a> Od. xxii. 424-73.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_746_746" id="Footnote_746_746"></a><a href="#FNanchor_746_746"><span class="label">[746]</span></a> Od. xviii. 321-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_747_747" id="Footnote_747_747"></a><a href="#FNanchor_747_747"><span class="label">[747]</span></a> Od. xxiv. 496.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_748_748" id="Footnote_748_748"></a><a href="#FNanchor_748_748"><span class="label">[748]</span></a> Il. iii. 39.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_749_749" id="Footnote_749_749"></a><a href="#FNanchor_749_749"><span class="label">[749]</span></a> Ibid. 391.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_750_750" id="Footnote_750_750"></a><a href="#FNanchor_750_750"><span class="label">[750]</span></a> Il. iii. 18. and vi. 506.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_751_751" id="Footnote_751_751"></a><a href="#FNanchor_751_751"><span class="label">[751]</span></a> Il. xv. 263.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_752_752" id="Footnote_752_752"></a><a href="#FNanchor_752_752"><span class="label">[752]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 629.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_753_753" id="Footnote_753_753"></a><a href="#FNanchor_753_753"><span class="label">[753]</span></a> Od. xiii. 430-3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_754_754" id="Footnote_754_754"></a><a href="#FNanchor_754_754"><span class="label">[754]</span></a> Il. iii. 169.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_755_755" id="Footnote_755_755"></a><a href="#FNanchor_755_755"><span class="label">[755]</span></a> Od. xi. 469.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_756_756" id="Footnote_756_756"></a><a href="#FNanchor_756_756"><span class="label">[756]</span></a> Il. ii. 671-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_757_757" id="Footnote_757_757"></a><a href="#FNanchor_757_757"><span class="label">[757]</span></a> Il. ii. 867.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_758_758" id="Footnote_758_758"></a><a href="#FNanchor_758_758"><span class="label">[758]</span></a> Il. xvii. 50-60. Compare the sympathizing account of the -death of the <i>young</i> bridegroom Iphidamas (Il. xi. 241-3).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_759_759" id="Footnote_759_759"></a><a href="#FNanchor_759_759"><span class="label">[759]</span></a> Od. viii. 167-77.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_760_760" id="Footnote_760_760"></a><a href="#FNanchor_760_760"><span class="label">[760]</span></a> Od. x. 112.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_761_761" id="Footnote_761_761"></a><a href="#FNanchor_761_761"><span class="label">[761]</span></a> Od. xvii. 327.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_762_762" id="Footnote_762_762"></a><a href="#FNanchor_762_762"><span class="label">[762]</span></a> Od. ii. 10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_763_763" id="Footnote_763_763"></a><a href="#FNanchor_763_763"><span class="label">[763]</span></a> Il. xx. 220-9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_764_764" id="Footnote_764_764"></a><a href="#FNanchor_764_764"><span class="label">[764]</span></a> Il. vi. 511.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_765_765" id="Footnote_765_765"></a><a href="#FNanchor_765_765"><span class="label">[765]</span></a> Il. xi. 158.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_766_766" id="Footnote_766_766"></a><a href="#FNanchor_766_766"><span class="label">[766]</span></a> Il. xix. 408-17.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_767_767" id="Footnote_767_767"></a><a href="#FNanchor_767_767"><span class="label">[767]</span></a> Il. x. 437.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_768_768" id="Footnote_768_768"></a><a href="#FNanchor_768_768"><span class="label">[768]</span></a> Il. x. 544-53.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_769_769" id="Footnote_769_769"></a><a href="#FNanchor_769_769"><span class="label">[769]</span></a> Il. ii. 764.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_770_770" id="Footnote_770_770"></a><a href="#FNanchor_770_770"><span class="label">[770]</span></a> Il. v. 295.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_771_771" id="Footnote_771_771"></a><a href="#FNanchor_771_771"><span class="label">[771]</span></a> Il. ii. 776.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_772_772" id="Footnote_772_772"></a><a href="#FNanchor_772_772"><span class="label">[772]</span></a> Il. v. 196.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_773_773" id="Footnote_773_773"></a><a href="#FNanchor_773_773"><span class="label">[773]</span></a> Il. x. 489-93.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_774_774" id="Footnote_774_774"></a><a href="#FNanchor_774_774"><span class="label">[774]</span></a> Od. iv. 13.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_775_775" id="Footnote_775_775"></a><a href="#FNanchor_775_775"><span class="label">[775]</span></a> Od. iv. 606.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_776_776" id="Footnote_776_776"></a><a href="#FNanchor_776_776"><span class="label">[776]</span></a> He uses the phrase <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δρόμοι -εὐρέες</span>. It is curious to find the -word <i>runs</i>, so recently re-established -as the classical word for -the large open spaces of pasturage -in the regions of Australasia.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_777_777" id="Footnote_777_777"></a><a href="#FNanchor_777_777"><span class="label">[777]</span></a> Il. xxii. 121.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_778_778" id="Footnote_778_778"></a><a href="#FNanchor_778_778"><span class="label">[778]</span></a> Il. ix. 228.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_779_779" id="Footnote_779_779"></a><a href="#FNanchor_779_779"><span class="label">[779]</span></a> See Mr. Cope’s Essay on the -Picturesque among the Greeks; -Cambridge Essays, 1856. p. 126.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_780_780" id="Footnote_780_780"></a><a href="#FNanchor_780_780"><span class="label">[780]</span></a> Ruskin’s Modern Painters, -part iv. chap. xiii. pp. 189-92.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_781_781" id="Footnote_781_781"></a><a href="#FNanchor_781_781"><span class="label">[781]</span></a> Od. vii. 112-32.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_782_782" id="Footnote_782_782"></a><a href="#FNanchor_782_782"><span class="label">[782]</span></a> Od. v. 63-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_783_783" id="Footnote_783_783"></a><a href="#FNanchor_783_783"><span class="label">[783]</span></a> Il. viii. 557.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_784_784" id="Footnote_784_784"></a><a href="#FNanchor_784_784"><span class="label">[784]</span></a> Il. xv. 80.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_785_785" id="Footnote_785_785"></a><a href="#FNanchor_785_785"><span class="label">[785]</span></a> Modern Painters, part iv. ch. xiii. p. 174.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_786_786" id="Footnote_786_786"></a><a href="#FNanchor_786_786"><span class="label">[786]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 216. i. 482.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_787_787" id="Footnote_787_787"></a><a href="#FNanchor_787_787"><span class="label">[787]</span></a> Il. iv. 424.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_788_788" id="Footnote_788_788"></a><a href="#FNanchor_788_788"><span class="label">[788]</span></a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Γηθοσύνῃ δὲ θάλασσα διΐστατο</span>, Il. xiii. 29.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_789_789" id="Footnote_789_789"></a><a href="#FNanchor_789_789"><span class="label">[789]</span></a> Il. xiv. 392.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_790_790" id="Footnote_790_790"></a><a href="#FNanchor_790_790"><span class="label">[790]</span></a> Rev. v. 11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_791_791" id="Footnote_791_791"></a><a href="#FNanchor_791_791"><span class="label">[791]</span></a> Od. v. 306.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_792_792" id="Footnote_792_792"></a><a href="#FNanchor_792_792"><span class="label">[792]</span></a> Æsch. Prom. V. 468. see also Soph. Naupl. Fragm. v.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_793_793" id="Footnote_793_793"></a><a href="#FNanchor_793_793"><span class="label">[793]</span></a> Od. iv. 412, 451.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_794_794" id="Footnote_794_794"></a><a href="#FNanchor_794_794"><span class="label">[794]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 29.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_795_795" id="Footnote_795_795"></a><a href="#FNanchor_795_795"><span class="label">[795]</span></a> Od. ii. 16.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_796_796" id="Footnote_796_796"></a><a href="#FNanchor_796_796"><span class="label">[796]</span></a> Il. v. 860.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_797_797" id="Footnote_797_797"></a><a href="#FNanchor_797_797"><span class="label">[797]</span></a> Il. xxi. 251.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_798_798" id="Footnote_798_798"></a><a href="#FNanchor_798_798"><span class="label">[798]</span></a> Il. vii. 571. viii. 562. xi. 244.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_799_799" id="Footnote_799_799"></a><a href="#FNanchor_799_799"><span class="label">[799]</span></a> Od. xiv. 20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_800_800" id="Footnote_800_800"></a><a href="#FNanchor_800_800"><span class="label">[800]</span></a> Od. xiv. 93.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_801_801" id="Footnote_801_801"></a><a href="#FNanchor_801_801"><span class="label">[801]</span></a> Agorè, p. <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_802_802" id="Footnote_802_802"></a><a href="#FNanchor_802_802"><span class="label">[802]</span></a> Il. ii. 450.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_803_803" id="Footnote_803_803"></a><a href="#FNanchor_803_803"><span class="label">[803]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 703, 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_804_804" id="Footnote_804_804"></a><a href="#FNanchor_804_804"><span class="label">[804]</span></a> Il. vi. 236.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_805_805" id="Footnote_805_805"></a><a href="#FNanchor_805_805"><span class="label">[805]</span></a> Il. xxi. 79.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_806_806" id="Footnote_806_806"></a><a href="#FNanchor_806_806"><span class="label">[806]</span></a> Il. xxi. 42.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_807_807" id="Footnote_807_807"></a><a href="#FNanchor_807_807"><span class="label">[807]</span></a> Il. ii. 123-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_808_808" id="Footnote_808_808"></a><a href="#FNanchor_808_808"><span class="label">[808]</span></a> Il. ii. 362-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_809_809" id="Footnote_809_809"></a><a href="#FNanchor_809_809"><span class="label">[809]</span></a> Il. ii. 509, 719.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_810_810" id="Footnote_810_810"></a><a href="#FNanchor_810_810"><span class="label">[810]</span></a> Il. xix. 44.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_811_811" id="Footnote_811_811"></a><a href="#FNanchor_811_811"><span class="label">[811]</span></a> Il. ii. 362, 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_812_812" id="Footnote_812_812"></a><a href="#FNanchor_812_812"><span class="label">[812]</span></a> Od. viii. 35.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_813_813" id="Footnote_813_813"></a><a href="#FNanchor_813_813"><span class="label">[813]</span></a> Sup. Agorè, p. <a href="#Page_135">135</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_814_814" id="Footnote_814_814"></a><a href="#FNanchor_814_814"><span class="label">[814]</span></a> Il. ii. 577.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_815_815" id="Footnote_815_815"></a><a href="#FNanchor_815_815"><span class="label">[815]</span></a> Il. viii. 562.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_816_816" id="Footnote_816_816"></a><a href="#FNanchor_816_816"><span class="label">[816]</span></a> Od. xiv. 13-20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_817_817" id="Footnote_817_817"></a><a href="#FNanchor_817_817"><span class="label">[817]</span></a> I subjoin the rest of this curious fragment; -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div lang="grc" xml:lang="grc" class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent20">ἔλαφος δέ τε τετρακόρωνος·</div> - <div class="verse">τρεῖς δ’ ἐλάφους ὁ κόραξ γηράσκεται· αὐτὰρ ὁ φοίνιξ</div> - <div class="verse">ἐννέα τοὺς κόρακας· δέκαδ’ ἡμεῖς τοὺς φοίνικας</div> - <div class="verse">νύμφαι ἐϋπλόκαμοι, κοῦραι Διὸς αἰγιόχοιο.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -It is noticed by Pliny, (Nat. Hist. vii. 48.) who terms it fabulous; -but it is with more propriety, I think, to be called poetical.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_818_818" id="Footnote_818_818"></a><a href="#FNanchor_818_818"><span class="label">[818]</span></a> Il. ii. 649.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_819_819" id="Footnote_819_819"></a><a href="#FNanchor_819_819"><span class="label">[819]</span></a> Od. xix. 173.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_820_820" id="Footnote_820_820"></a><a href="#FNanchor_820_820"><span class="label">[820]</span></a> Il. ix. 362.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_821_821" id="Footnote_821_821"></a><a href="#FNanchor_821_821"><span class="label">[821]</span></a> <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ὅσσον τε πανημερίη νηῦς ἤνυσε</span>, Od. iv. 356.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_822_822" id="Footnote_822_822"></a><a href="#FNanchor_822_822"><span class="label">[822]</span></a> Od. iii. 322. With this compare the Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 1; where, -be it observed, Shakespeare is treating his subject as one of Dreamland. -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse"><i>Ant.</i> Who’s the next heir of Naples?</div> - - <div class="verse"><i>Seb.</i> <span class="m20">Claribel.</span></div> -</div> - - <div class="verse"><i>Ant.</i> She that is queen of Tunis: she, that dwells</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Ten leagues beyond man’s life; she that from Naples</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Can have no note, unless the sun were post,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">(The man i’ th’ moon ’s too slow,) till new-born chins</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Be rough and razorable.</div> -</div></div></div> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_823_823" id="Footnote_823_823"></a><a href="#FNanchor_823_823"><span class="label">[823]</span></a> Od. xi. 248.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_824_824" id="Footnote_824_824"></a><a href="#FNanchor_824_824"><span class="label">[824]</span></a> Il. i. 250-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_825_825" id="Footnote_825_825"></a><a href="#FNanchor_825_825"><span class="label">[825]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 791.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_826_826" id="Footnote_826_826"></a><a href="#FNanchor_826_826"><span class="label">[826]</span></a> Il. xiii. 361.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_827_827" id="Footnote_827_827"></a><a href="#FNanchor_827_827"><span class="label">[827]</span></a> Il. x. 157.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_828_828" id="Footnote_828_828"></a><a href="#FNanchor_828_828"><span class="label">[828]</span></a> Od. iii. 245. The meaning -may be that he had <i>reigned</i> for -above two generations: but in -the Iliad no more is implied than -that he had <i>lived</i> well into a -third.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_829_829" id="Footnote_829_829"></a><a href="#FNanchor_829_829"><span class="label">[829]</span></a> Lit. Greece, i. 460. ii. 139.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_830_830" id="Footnote_830_830"></a><a href="#FNanchor_830_830"><span class="label">[830]</span></a> Ibid. ii. 138.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_831_831" id="Footnote_831_831"></a><a href="#FNanchor_831_831"><span class="label">[831]</span></a> Od. xii. 112, 144.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_832_832" id="Footnote_832_832"></a><a href="#FNanchor_832_832"><span class="label">[832]</span></a> Od. iv. 665.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_833_833" id="Footnote_833_833"></a><a href="#FNanchor_833_833"><span class="label">[833]</span></a> Mure, Hist. -Lit. Greece, vol. i. p. 437.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_834_834" id="Footnote_834_834"></a><a href="#FNanchor_834_834"><span class="label">[834]</span></a> Od. xvii. 327.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_835_835" id="Footnote_835_835"></a><a href="#FNanchor_835_835"><span class="label">[835]</span></a> Il. ix. 438. and xi. 783.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_836_836" id="Footnote_836_836"></a><a href="#FNanchor_836_836"><span class="label">[836]</span></a> Od. xi. 510-12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_837_837" id="Footnote_837_837"></a><a href="#FNanchor_837_837"><span class="label">[837]</span></a> Il. ix. 481.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_838_838" id="Footnote_838_838"></a><a href="#FNanchor_838_838"><span class="label">[838]</span></a> Lit. Greece, ii. 141.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_839_839" id="Footnote_839_839"></a><a href="#FNanchor_839_839"><span class="label">[839]</span></a> Il. ii. 360.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_840_840" id="Footnote_840_840"></a><a href="#FNanchor_840_840"><span class="label">[840]</span></a> Il. ii. 799.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_841_841" id="Footnote_841_841"></a><a href="#FNanchor_841_841"><span class="label">[841]</span></a> Il. i. 52. ii. 302.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_842_842" id="Footnote_842_842"></a><a href="#FNanchor_842_842"><span class="label">[842]</span></a> See <a href="#Page_496">note</a> at the end of the Section.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_843_843" id="Footnote_843_843"></a><a href="#FNanchor_843_843"><span class="label">[843]</span></a> Ibid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_844_844" id="Footnote_844_844"></a><a href="#FNanchor_844_844"><span class="label">[844]</span></a> The celebrated Hunter noticed -that Homer had made Dolon an -only son with five sisters, as -a proof of the Poet’s sagacity -in observation: having himself -found, that youths under such -circumstances are generally more -or less effeminate. I owe this -information to one of the most -distinguished living members of -the profession, which Hunter himself -adorned. It was also a favourite -remark, I believe, with -Mr. Rogers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_845_845" id="Footnote_845_845"></a><a href="#FNanchor_845_845"><span class="label">[845]</span></a> See Achæis, or Ethnology, p. 383.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_846_846" id="Footnote_846_846"></a><a href="#FNanchor_846_846"><span class="label">[846]</span></a> See Olympus, sect. ii. p. 53. -Welcker (<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Griechische Götterlehre</i>, -vi. 63, p. 300) treats the name -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀθήνη</span> as immediately akin to -<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἰθὴρ</span> and the idea of light.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_847_847" id="Footnote_847_847"></a><a href="#FNanchor_847_847"><span class="label">[847]</span></a> Eurip. Iph. in Aul. 213-22.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_848_848" id="Footnote_848_848"></a><a href="#FNanchor_848_848"><span class="label">[848]</span></a> Il. xviii. 409. xxiv. 159.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_849_849" id="Footnote_849_849"></a><a href="#FNanchor_849_849"><span class="label">[849]</span></a> See Olympus, sect. ii. p. 157.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_850_850" id="Footnote_850_850"></a><a href="#FNanchor_850_850"><span class="label">[850]</span></a> Hymn. ad Apoll. v. 172.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_851_851" id="Footnote_851_851"></a><a href="#FNanchor_851_851"><span class="label">[851]</span></a> Macbeth ii. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_852_852" id="Footnote_852_852"></a><a href="#FNanchor_852_852"><span class="label">[852]</span></a> Troilus and Cressida, i. 3, -<i>sub</i> fin.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_853_853" id="Footnote_853_853"></a><a href="#FNanchor_853_853"><span class="label">[853]</span></a> Tempest, iv. 1. The rainbow -is mentioned as of many colours, -in Merry Wives of Windsor, iv. -5, Winter’s Tale, iv. 3, and King -John, iv. 2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_854_854" id="Footnote_854_854"></a><a href="#FNanchor_854_854"><span class="label">[854]</span></a> Pritchard’s Celtic Nations, p. 219.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_855_855" id="Footnote_855_855"></a><a href="#FNanchor_855_855"><span class="label">[855]</span></a> Vid. Göthe, <i>Geschichte -der Farbenlehre</i>, Works, vol. 53, p. 21. (Stuttgart, 1833.)</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_856_856" id="Footnote_856_856"></a><a href="#FNanchor_856_856"><span class="label">[856]</span></a> Wilson’s Five Gateways of -Knowledge, p. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_857_857" id="Footnote_857_857"></a><a href="#FNanchor_857_857"><span class="label">[857]</span></a> See, for instance, ‘Ancient -and Modern Colours, by William -Linton.’ London 1852.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_858_858" id="Footnote_858_858"></a><a href="#FNanchor_858_858"><span class="label">[858]</span></a> Hor. Od. I. 13. 2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_859_859" id="Footnote_859_859"></a><a href="#FNanchor_859_859"><span class="label">[859]</span></a> Virg. Æn. i. 402.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_860_860" id="Footnote_860_860"></a><a href="#FNanchor_860_860"><span class="label">[860]</span></a> Vid. Göthe, <i>Farbenlehre</i>, Works, vol. 53. p. 23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_861_861" id="Footnote_861_861"></a><a href="#FNanchor_861_861"><span class="label">[861]</span></a> Prantl’s <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Aristoteles über die -Farben</span>, pp. 101, 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_862_862" id="Footnote_862_862"></a><a href="#FNanchor_862_862"><span class="label">[862]</span></a> Ibid. pp. 104, 6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_863_863" id="Footnote_863_863"></a><a href="#FNanchor_863_863"><span class="label">[863]</span></a> Ibid. p. 109. Ar. Metaph. I. -7. 1057 a. 23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_864_864" id="Footnote_864_864"></a><a href="#FNanchor_864_864"><span class="label">[864]</span></a> Ibid. p. 116. Ar. de Sens. 4. -442 a. 12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_865_865" id="Footnote_865_865"></a><a href="#FNanchor_865_865"><span class="label">[865]</span></a> Ibid. p. 118. Met. III. 4. -374 b. 31.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_866_866" id="Footnote_866_866"></a><a href="#FNanchor_866_866"><span class="label">[866]</span></a> Comp. Met. I. 5. 342 b. 4. with III. 4. 374 a. 27.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_867_867" id="Footnote_867_867"></a><a href="#FNanchor_867_867"><span class="label">[867]</span></a> Liddell and Scott <i>in voc.</i> Millin, -Minéralogie Homérique, p. 149.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_868_868" id="Footnote_868_868"></a><a href="#FNanchor_868_868"><span class="label">[868]</span></a> Friedreich, <span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Realien</span>, § 21. p. 86.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_869_869" id="Footnote_869_869"></a><a href="#FNanchor_869_869"><span class="label">[869]</span></a> Vol. ii. p. 325.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_870_870" id="Footnote_870_870"></a><a href="#FNanchor_870_870"><span class="label">[870]</span></a> Il. iv. 510.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_871_871" id="Footnote_871_871"></a><a href="#FNanchor_871_871"><span class="label">[871]</span></a> H. N. xxxiv. 16. s. 47.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_872_872" id="Footnote_872_872"></a><a href="#FNanchor_872_872"><span class="label">[872]</span></a> Il. xviii. 474. v. 722.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_873_873" id="Footnote_873_873"></a><a href="#FNanchor_873_873"><span class="label">[873]</span></a> Ibid. 564.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_874_874" id="Footnote_874_874"></a><a href="#FNanchor_874_874"><span class="label">[874]</span></a> Eustath. Il. i. p. 93.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_875_875" id="Footnote_875_875"></a><a href="#FNanchor_875_875"><span class="label">[875]</span></a> The substance of this and -the two following Sections formed -two Articles in the Quarterly -Review, Nos. 201 and 203, for -January and July respectively, -1857. They are reprinted with -the obliging approval of Mr. -Murray.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_876_876" id="Footnote_876_876"></a><a href="#FNanchor_876_876"><span class="label">[876]</span></a> Commentary on Il. ii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_877_877" id="Footnote_877_877"></a><a href="#FNanchor_877_877"><span class="label">[877]</span></a> Od. xvii. 385.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_878_878" id="Footnote_878_878"></a><a href="#FNanchor_878_878"><span class="label">[878]</span></a> Il. ii. 455-83.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_879_879" id="Footnote_879_879"></a><a href="#FNanchor_879_879"><span class="label">[879]</span></a> See also Lessing’s Laocoon, -c. xviii. respecting the Shield in -the Æneid.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_880_880" id="Footnote_880_880"></a><a href="#FNanchor_880_880"><span class="label">[880]</span></a> Il. ii. 494-510. Æn. vii. -647-54.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_881_881" id="Footnote_881_881"></a><a href="#FNanchor_881_881"><span class="label">[881]</span></a> Il. ii. 756-9. Æn. vii. -803-17.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_882_882" id="Footnote_882_882"></a><a href="#FNanchor_882_882"><span class="label">[882]</span></a> <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">At Danaûm proceres</span>, etc.—Æn. vi. 489.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_883_883" id="Footnote_883_883"></a><a href="#FNanchor_883_883"><span class="label">[883]</span></a> Æn. xi. 282-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_884_884" id="Footnote_884_884"></a><a href="#FNanchor_884_884"><span class="label">[884]</span></a> Il. v. 302-10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_885_885" id="Footnote_885_885"></a><a href="#FNanchor_885_885"><span class="label">[885]</span></a> Macbeth iii. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_886_886" id="Footnote_886_886"></a><a href="#FNanchor_886_886"><span class="label">[886]</span></a> Achæis, or Ethnology, sect. ix. p. 491.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_887_887" id="Footnote_887_887"></a><a href="#FNanchor_887_887"><span class="label">[887]</span></a> Il. v. 445.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_888_888" id="Footnote_888_888"></a><a href="#FNanchor_888_888"><span class="label">[888]</span></a> Il. iii. 382.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_889_889" id="Footnote_889_889"></a><a href="#FNanchor_889_889"><span class="label">[889]</span></a> Hom. Il. xii. 433.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_890_890" id="Footnote_890_890"></a><a href="#FNanchor_890_890"><span class="label">[890]</span></a> Æn. viii. 407-13.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_891_891" id="Footnote_891_891"></a><a href="#FNanchor_891_891"><span class="label">[891]</span></a> In Dibdin’s ‘Editions of the -Greek and Latin Classics,’ we -find nineteen editions of Virgil -between 1469 and 1478. The -<i>Princeps</i> of Homer was only -printed in 1488. Panzer, according -to Dibdin, enumerates ninety -editions of Virgil in the 15th -century (ii. 540.). Mr. Hallam -says (Lit. Eur., i. 420.), ‘Ariosto -has been <i>after Homer</i> the favourite -poet of Europe.’ I presume -this distinguished writer does not -mean to imply that Homer has -been more read than any other -poet. Can his words mean that -Homer has been more approved? -It is worth while to ask the -question: for the judgments of -Mr. Hallam are like those of -Minos, and reach into the future.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_892_892" id="Footnote_892_892"></a><a href="#FNanchor_892_892"><span class="label">[892]</span></a> Il. xxi. 307, et seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_893_893" id="Footnote_893_893"></a><a href="#FNanchor_893_893"><span class="label">[893]</span></a> Il. v. 777.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_894_894" id="Footnote_894_894"></a><a href="#FNanchor_894_894"><span class="label">[894]</span></a> Il. xii. 22.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_895_895" id="Footnote_895_895"></a><a href="#FNanchor_895_895"><span class="label">[895]</span></a> Æn. vi. 724-893.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_896_896" id="Footnote_896_896"></a><a href="#FNanchor_896_896"><span class="label">[896]</span></a> We cannot safely assume the -second <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Νεκυΐα</span> of Od. xxiv. to be -free from interpolations.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_897_897" id="Footnote_897_897"></a><a href="#FNanchor_897_897"><span class="label">[897]</span></a> Homer has used this figure; -but in an entirely different connection, -Il. viii. 13-16.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_898_898" id="Footnote_898_898"></a><a href="#FNanchor_898_898"><span class="label">[898]</span></a> Æn. vi. 503.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_899_899" id="Footnote_899_899"></a><a href="#FNanchor_899_899"><span class="label">[899]</span></a> Æn. ii. 27. vi. 88.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_900_900" id="Footnote_900_900"></a><a href="#FNanchor_900_900"><span class="label">[900]</span></a> Æn. xi. 239-270.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_901_901" id="Footnote_901_901"></a><a href="#FNanchor_901_901"><span class="label">[901]</span></a> Æn. vi. 529.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_902_902" id="Footnote_902_902"></a><a href="#FNanchor_902_902"><span class="label">[902]</span></a> Od. xvi. 118.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_903_903" id="Footnote_903_903"></a><a href="#FNanchor_903_903"><span class="label">[903]</span></a> Æn. iii. 104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_904_904" id="Footnote_904_904"></a><a href="#FNanchor_904_904"><span class="label">[904]</span></a> Æn. vi. 63.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_905_905" id="Footnote_905_905"></a><a href="#FNanchor_905_905"><span class="label">[905]</span></a> Scott and Liddell, in voc.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_906_906" id="Footnote_906_906"></a><a href="#FNanchor_906_906"><span class="label">[906]</span></a> Æn. x. 255. Cf. i. 618, Phrygius -Simois; vii. 597, <i>et alibi</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_907_907" id="Footnote_907_907"></a><a href="#FNanchor_907_907"><span class="label">[907]</span></a> Il. iii. 184.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_908_908" id="Footnote_908_908"></a><a href="#FNanchor_908_908"><span class="label">[908]</span></a> Il. xii. 436.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_909_909" id="Footnote_909_909"></a><a href="#FNanchor_909_909"><span class="label">[909]</span></a> Il. viii. 18.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_910_910" id="Footnote_910_910"></a><a href="#FNanchor_910_910"><span class="label">[910]</span></a> Ibid. 134. Cf. vi. 650.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_911_911" id="Footnote_911_911"></a><a href="#FNanchor_911_911"><span class="label">[911]</span></a> Æn. iii. 104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_912_912" id="Footnote_912_912"></a><a href="#FNanchor_912_912"><span class="label">[912]</span></a> Æn. iii. 109.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_913_913" id="Footnote_913_913"></a><a href="#FNanchor_913_913"><span class="label">[913]</span></a> Apollod. III. xii. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_914_914" id="Footnote_914_914"></a><a href="#FNanchor_914_914"><span class="label">[914]</span></a> Æn. vi. 63.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_915_915" id="Footnote_915_915"></a><a href="#FNanchor_915_915"><span class="label">[915]</span></a> Æn. ii. 634.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_916_916" id="Footnote_916_916"></a><a href="#FNanchor_916_916"><span class="label">[916]</span></a> Il. xxii. 331-47.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_917_917" id="Footnote_917_917"></a><a href="#FNanchor_917_917"><span class="label">[917]</span></a> Il. xxiii. 775-81. Æn. v. 333, 356.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_918_918" id="Footnote_918_918"></a><a href="#FNanchor_918_918"><span class="label">[918]</span></a> Ibid. 329.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_919_919" id="Footnote_919_919"></a><a href="#FNanchor_919_919"><span class="label">[919]</span></a> Ibid. 286-90.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_920_920" id="Footnote_920_920"></a><a href="#FNanchor_920_920"><span class="label">[920]</span></a> Æn. viii. 185.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_921_921" id="Footnote_921_921"></a><a href="#FNanchor_921_921"><span class="label">[921]</span></a> Æn. v. 370.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_922_922" id="Footnote_922_922"></a><a href="#FNanchor_922_922"><span class="label">[922]</span></a> Æn. viii. 523.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_923_923" id="Footnote_923_923"></a><a href="#FNanchor_923_923"><span class="label">[923]</span></a> Æn. ii. 601.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_924_924" id="Footnote_924_924"></a><a href="#FNanchor_924_924"><span class="label">[924]</span></a> Il. iii. 164.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_925_925" id="Footnote_925_925"></a><a href="#FNanchor_925_925"><span class="label">[925]</span></a> Il. iii. 453, and elsewhere.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_926_926" id="Footnote_926_926"></a><a href="#FNanchor_926_926"><span class="label">[926]</span></a> Æn. vi. 460.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_927_927" id="Footnote_927_927"></a><a href="#FNanchor_927_927"><span class="label">[927]</span></a> Od. v. 215-24.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_928_928" id="Footnote_928_928"></a><a href="#FNanchor_928_928"><span class="label">[928]</span></a> Il. xix. 86. When Achilles -(270) as it were countersigns this, -it is evidently in his character of -a high-bred gentleman; a character, -of which he gives so many -proofs in the poem.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_929_929" id="Footnote_929_929"></a><a href="#FNanchor_929_929"><span class="label">[929]</span></a> Æn. vii. 648; viii. 7, 482.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_930_930" id="Footnote_930_930"></a><a href="#FNanchor_930_930"><span class="label">[930]</span></a> Æn. x. 773, 880.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_931_931" id="Footnote_931_931"></a><a href="#FNanchor_931_931"><span class="label">[931]</span></a> Il. xxii. 365.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_932_932" id="Footnote_932_932"></a><a href="#FNanchor_932_932"><span class="label">[932]</span></a> Æn. x. 743.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_933_933" id="Footnote_933_933"></a><a href="#FNanchor_933_933"><span class="label">[933]</span></a> Æn. vii. 633.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_934_934" id="Footnote_934_934"></a><a href="#FNanchor_934_934"><span class="label">[934]</span></a> Il. ii. 544.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_935_935" id="Footnote_935_935"></a><a href="#FNanchor_935_935"><span class="label">[935]</span></a> Il. iii. 330.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_936_936" id="Footnote_936_936"></a><a href="#FNanchor_936_936"><span class="label">[936]</span></a> Od. xi. 315.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_937_937" id="Footnote_937_937"></a><a href="#FNanchor_937_937"><span class="label">[937]</span></a> Georg. i. 281.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_938_938" id="Footnote_938_938"></a><a href="#FNanchor_938_938"><span class="label">[938]</span></a> Æn. iv. 248-51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_939_939" id="Footnote_939_939"></a><a href="#FNanchor_939_939"><span class="label">[939]</span></a> Il. ix. 484, and xvi. 196.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_940_940" id="Footnote_940_940"></a><a href="#FNanchor_940_940"><span class="label">[940]</span></a> Æn. ii. 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_941_941" id="Footnote_941_941"></a><a href="#FNanchor_941_941"><span class="label">[941]</span></a> Æn. vi. 432.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_942_942" id="Footnote_942_942"></a><a href="#FNanchor_942_942"><span class="label">[942]</span></a> Although it may be a deviation -from the direct path, yet, -having noticed in so much detail -the unfaithfulness of Virgil to his -original, I will also give an instance -of the accuracy of Horace. -In the Seventh Ode of the First -Book, he has occasion to refer to -the places made famous in Homeric -song; and Athens with -him is <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Palladis urbs</span>; so Argos -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἱππόβοτον</span>) is <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">aptum equis</i>, Mycænæ -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πολύχρυσος</span>) <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">dites</i>, Larissa -(<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐριβώλαξ)</span> <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">opima</i>. Lacedæmon is -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">patiens</i>, an epithet corresponding -with no particular word in Homer, -but not contradicted by any; -it had acquired the character since -his time.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_943_943" id="Footnote_943_943"></a><a href="#FNanchor_943_943"><span class="label">[943]</span></a> Il. v. 303. See also Il. xx. -285.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_944_944" id="Footnote_944_944"></a><a href="#FNanchor_944_944"><span class="label">[944]</span></a> Il. xii. 382.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_945_945" id="Footnote_945_945"></a><a href="#FNanchor_945_945"><span class="label">[945]</span></a> Ibid. 445-50.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_946_946" id="Footnote_946_946"></a><a href="#FNanchor_946_946"><span class="label">[946]</span></a> Homer names a Demoleon, -son of Agenor; but he is slain -fighting for the Trojans. Il. xx. -395.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_947_947" id="Footnote_947_947"></a><a href="#FNanchor_947_947"><span class="label">[947]</span></a> Æn. vi. 233.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_948_948" id="Footnote_948_948"></a><a href="#FNanchor_948_948"><span class="label">[948]</span></a> The aim of the poet as such -is finely, but somewhat too exclusively, -expressed in the Sonnet of -Filicaja, <i>Dietro a questi ancor io</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_949_949" id="Footnote_949_949"></a><a href="#FNanchor_949_949"><span class="label">[949]</span></a> Od. xvii. 385.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_950_950" id="Footnote_950_950"></a><a href="#FNanchor_950_950"><span class="label">[950]</span></a> Od. xxii. 331.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_951_951" id="Footnote_951_951"></a><a href="#FNanchor_951_951"><span class="label">[951]</span></a> Od. iii. 267.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_952_952" id="Footnote_952_952"></a><a href="#FNanchor_952_952"><span class="label">[952]</span></a> <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">De Civ. Dei</span>, i. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_953_953" id="Footnote_953_953"></a><a href="#FNanchor_953_953"><span class="label">[953]</span></a> Ibid. viii. 4-11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_954_954" id="Footnote_954_954"></a><a href="#FNanchor_954_954"><span class="label">[954]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> xix. 36.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_955_955" id="Footnote_955_955"></a><a href="#FNanchor_955_955"><span class="label">[955]</span></a> Ibid. 37.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_956_956" id="Footnote_956_956"></a><a href="#FNanchor_956_956"><span class="label">[956]</span></a> Od. xi. 311.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_957_957" id="Footnote_957_957"></a><a href="#FNanchor_957_957"><span class="label">[957]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> iv. 6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_958_958" id="Footnote_958_958"></a><a href="#FNanchor_958_958"><span class="label">[958]</span></a> Hallam’s Literature of Europe, ii. 268.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_959_959" id="Footnote_959_959"></a><a href="#FNanchor_959_959"><span class="label">[959]</span></a> Lett. Ital., vol. vii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_960_960" id="Footnote_960_960"></a><a href="#FNanchor_960_960"><span class="label">[960]</span></a> Il. ix. 646.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_961_961" id="Footnote_961_961"></a><a href="#FNanchor_961_961"><span class="label">[961]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> xx. 55.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_962_962" id="Footnote_962_962"></a><a href="#FNanchor_962_962"><span class="label">[962]</span></a> Ibid. 54.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_963_963" id="Footnote_963_963"></a><a href="#FNanchor_963_963"><span class="label">[963]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> v. 36.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_964_964" id="Footnote_964_964"></a><a href="#FNanchor_964_964"><span class="label">[964]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> xx. 63.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_965_965" id="Footnote_965_965"></a><a href="#FNanchor_965_965"><span class="label">[965]</span></a> Ib. 64.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_966_966" id="Footnote_966_966"></a><a href="#FNanchor_966_966"><span class="label">[966]</span></a> Ib. 65.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_967_967" id="Footnote_967_967"></a><a href="#FNanchor_967_967"><span class="label">[967]</span></a> Ib. 136.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_968_968" id="Footnote_968_968"></a><a href="#FNanchor_968_968"><span class="label">[968]</span></a> Il. xvii. 51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_969_969" id="Footnote_969_969"></a><a href="#FNanchor_969_969"><span class="label">[969]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> v. 12.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_970_970" id="Footnote_970_970"></a><a href="#FNanchor_970_970"><span class="label">[970]</span></a> Ibid. 151.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_971_971" id="Footnote_971_971"></a><a href="#FNanchor_971_971"><span class="label">[971]</span></a> Il. i. 188.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_972_972" id="Footnote_972_972"></a><a href="#FNanchor_972_972"><span class="label">[972]</span></a> <i>La Riforma Cattolica</i>, lately published at Turin, with an excellent -preface by Massari.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_973_973" id="Footnote_973_973"></a><a href="#FNanchor_973_973"><span class="label">[973]</span></a> Ger. v. 20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_974_974" id="Footnote_974_974"></a><a href="#FNanchor_974_974"><span class="label">[974]</span></a> Character of Hector, Lit. Greece, vol. i. p. 347.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_975_975" id="Footnote_975_975"></a><a href="#FNanchor_975_975"><span class="label">[975]</span></a> Ger. xvii. 69.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_976_976" id="Footnote_976_976"></a><a href="#FNanchor_976_976"><span class="label">[976]</span></a> Il. vii. 312.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_977_977" id="Footnote_977_977"></a><a href="#FNanchor_977_977"><span class="label">[977]</span></a> Ibid. 109.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_978_978" id="Footnote_978_978"></a><a href="#FNanchor_978_978"><span class="label">[978]</span></a> Ibid. 161.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_979_979" id="Footnote_979_979"></a><a href="#FNanchor_979_979"><span class="label">[979]</span></a> Il. xii. 445-71.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_980_980" id="Footnote_980_980"></a><a href="#FNanchor_980_980"><span class="label">[980]</span></a> Ib. 392-407.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_981_981" id="Footnote_981_981"></a><a href="#FNanchor_981_981"><span class="label">[981]</span></a> Il. xi. 186-90.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_982_982" id="Footnote_982_982"></a><a href="#FNanchor_982_982"><span class="label">[982]</span></a> Il. xi. 349-67.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_983_983" id="Footnote_983_983"></a><a href="#FNanchor_983_983"><span class="label">[983]</span></a> Ib. 502-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_984_984" id="Footnote_984_984"></a><a href="#FNanchor_984_984"><span class="label">[984]</span></a> Ib. 660.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_985_985" id="Footnote_985_985"></a><a href="#FNanchor_985_985"><span class="label">[985]</span></a> Il. vi. 127.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_986_986" id="Footnote_986_986"></a><a href="#FNanchor_986_986"><span class="label">[986]</span></a> Mure, i. 352.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_987_987" id="Footnote_987_987"></a><a href="#FNanchor_987_987"><span class="label">[987]</span></a> p. 85.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_988_988" id="Footnote_988_988"></a><a href="#FNanchor_988_988"><span class="label">[988]</span></a> Il. xx. 434.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_989_989" id="Footnote_989_989"></a><a href="#FNanchor_989_989"><span class="label">[989]</span></a> Il. vi. 479.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_990_990" id="Footnote_990_990"></a><a href="#FNanchor_990_990"><span class="label">[990]</span></a> Vol. i. pp. 349, 60.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_991_991" id="Footnote_991_991"></a><a href="#FNanchor_991_991"><span class="label">[991]</span></a> See sup. Ilios, pp. <a href="#Page_196">196</a>-<a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_992_992" id="Footnote_992_992"></a><a href="#FNanchor_992_992"><span class="label">[992]</span></a> Il. iii. 39 and xiii. 769.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_993_993" id="Footnote_993_993"></a><a href="#FNanchor_993_993"><span class="label">[993]</span></a> Il. iii. 46-51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_994_994" id="Footnote_994_994"></a><a href="#FNanchor_994_994"><span class="label">[994]</span></a> Ib. 76.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_995_995" id="Footnote_995_995"></a><a href="#FNanchor_995_995"><span class="label">[995]</span></a> Il. vi. 403.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_996_996" id="Footnote_996_996"></a><a href="#FNanchor_996_996"><span class="label">[996]</span></a> Ilios, pp. 219-23.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_997_997" id="Footnote_997_997"></a><a href="#FNanchor_997_997"><span class="label">[997]</span></a> Il. vi. 447.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_998_998" id="Footnote_998_998"></a><a href="#FNanchor_998_998"><span class="label">[998]</span></a> 2 Samuel i. 26.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_999_999" id="Footnote_999_999"></a><a href="#FNanchor_999_999"><span class="label">[999]</span></a> Il. vi. 521.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1000_1000" id="Footnote_1000_1000"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1000_1000"><span class="label">[1000]</span></a> Il. ix. 337.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1001_1001" id="Footnote_1001_1001"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1001_1001"><span class="label">[1001]</span></a> Il. ii. 356, 590.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1002_1002" id="Footnote_1002_1002"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1002_1002"><span class="label">[1002]</span></a> See Heyne on Il. ii. 356. G. -C. Crusius (Hanover. 1845, on do.) -Chapman translates in the same -sense; but Voss refers the outsetting -and the groans to Helen -herself; so too the Scholiasts.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1003_1003" id="Footnote_1003_1003"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1003_1003"><span class="label">[1003]</span></a> Il. ii. 590.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1004_1004" id="Footnote_1004_1004"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1004_1004"><span class="label">[1004]</span></a> On Pope’s Il. iii. 165.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1005_1005" id="Footnote_1005_1005"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1005_1005"><span class="label">[1005]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 770.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1006_1006" id="Footnote_1006_1006"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1006_1006"><span class="label">[1006]</span></a> Il. iii. 162.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1007_1007" id="Footnote_1007_1007"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1007_1007"><span class="label">[1007]</span></a> Ibid. 130.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1008_1008" id="Footnote_1008_1008"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1008_1008"><span class="label">[1008]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 768-72.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1009_1009" id="Footnote_1009_1009"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1009_1009"><span class="label">[1009]</span></a> Ibid. 775.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1010_1010" id="Footnote_1010_1010"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1010_1010"><span class="label">[1010]</span></a> Il. xvi.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1011_1011" id="Footnote_1011_1011"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1011_1011"><span class="label">[1011]</span></a> Il. ix. 336.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1012_1012" id="Footnote_1012_1012"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1012_1012"><span class="label">[1012]</span></a> Od. xxiii. 222.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1013_1013" id="Footnote_1013_1013"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1013_1013"><span class="label">[1013]</span></a> Od. iv. 122.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1014_1014" id="Footnote_1014_1014"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1014_1014"><span class="label">[1014]</span></a> Il. iii. 429 cf. 163. See Ilios, pp. <a href="#Page_200">200</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1015_1015" id="Footnote_1015_1015"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1015_1015"><span class="label">[1015]</span></a> Od. iii. 272.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1016_1016" id="Footnote_1016_1016"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1016_1016"><span class="label">[1016]</span></a> Od. iv. 262; Il. xxiv. 764.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1017_1017" id="Footnote_1017_1017"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1017_1017"><span class="label">[1017]</span></a> Il. iii. 400-2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1018_1018" id="Footnote_1018_1018"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1018_1018"><span class="label">[1018]</span></a> Ibid. 174.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1019_1019" id="Footnote_1019_1019"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1019_1019"><span class="label">[1019]</span></a> Ibid. 442-4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1020_1020" id="Footnote_1020_1020"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1020_1020"><span class="label">[1020]</span></a> Il. xiii. 626.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1021_1021" id="Footnote_1021_1021"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1021_1021"><span class="label">[1021]</span></a> Il. vi. 355.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1022_1022" id="Footnote_1022_1022"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1022_1022"><span class="label">[1022]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 768.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1023_1023" id="Footnote_1023_1023"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1023_1023"><span class="label">[1023]</span></a> Il. iii. 139.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1024_1024" id="Footnote_1024_1024"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1024_1024"><span class="label">[1024]</span></a> See Damm on <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀργεννός</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1025_1025" id="Footnote_1025_1025"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1025_1025"><span class="label">[1025]</span></a> Il. vi. 344, 356; Od. iv. 145.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1026_1026" id="Footnote_1026_1026"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1026_1026"><span class="label">[1026]</span></a> Od. iv. 184, 254.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1027_1027" id="Footnote_1027_1027"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1027_1027"><span class="label">[1027]</span></a> Il. iii. 236-42. Cf. Il. iii. -404. and xxiv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1028_1028" id="Footnote_1028_1028"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1028_1028"><span class="label">[1028]</span></a> The expression is <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θυμὸν ἐνὶ -στήθεσσιν ὄρινεν</span>. The verb is -used by Homer most commonly -to denote apprehension (as in Il. -iv. 208. xv. 7. xvi. 280, 509. -xviii. 223); though it also sometimes -signifies other kinds of excitement, -such as anger or surprise.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1029_1029" id="Footnote_1029_1029"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1029_1029"><span class="label">[1029]</span></a> 383-98.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1030_1030" id="Footnote_1030_1030"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1030_1030"><span class="label">[1030]</span></a> Il. vi. 321-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1031_1031" id="Footnote_1031_1031"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1031_1031"><span class="label">[1031]</span></a> Il. xxiv. 760-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1032_1032" id="Footnote_1032_1032"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1032_1032"><span class="label">[1032]</span></a> Od. iv. 13.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1033_1033" id="Footnote_1033_1033"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1033_1033"><span class="label">[1033]</span></a> Od. iv. 274.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1034_1034" id="Footnote_1034_1034"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1034_1034"><span class="label">[1034]</span></a> Od. iv. 276.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1035_1035" id="Footnote_1035_1035"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1035_1035"><span class="label">[1035]</span></a> Lycophron, 168; Schol. on -Il. xxiv. 251. In the Troades of -Euripides she is introduced, saying -that Deiphobus took her by -force, against the will of the -Phrygians (Trojans), 954-5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1036_1036" id="Footnote_1036_1036"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1036_1036"><span class="label">[1036]</span></a> Orl. Fur. iv. 66.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1037_1037" id="Footnote_1037_1037"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1037_1037"><span class="label">[1037]</span></a> Book ii. ch. viii. sect. 20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1038_1038" id="Footnote_1038_1038"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1038_1038"><span class="label">[1038]</span></a> Il. iii. 437-48.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1039_1039" id="Footnote_1039_1039"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1039_1039"><span class="label">[1039]</span></a> Ibid. 428.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1040_1040" id="Footnote_1040_1040"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1040_1040"><span class="label">[1040]</span></a> Il. xi. 368-79, 581-4, 505-7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1041_1041" id="Footnote_1041_1041"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1041_1041"><span class="label">[1041]</span></a> Il. xi. 385.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1042_1042" id="Footnote_1042_1042"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1042_1042"><span class="label">[1042]</span></a> Il. iii. 454.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1043_1043" id="Footnote_1043_1043"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1043_1043"><span class="label">[1043]</span></a> Il. vi. 339.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1044_1044" id="Footnote_1044_1044"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1044_1044"><span class="label">[1044]</span></a> Il. iii. 43, 51.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1045_1045" id="Footnote_1045_1045"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1045_1045"><span class="label">[1045]</span></a> Il. vi. 372.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1046_1046" id="Footnote_1046_1046"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1046_1046"><span class="label">[1046]</span></a> See note p. <a href="#Page_500">500</a>. sup.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1047_1047" id="Footnote_1047_1047"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1047_1047"><span class="label">[1047]</span></a> Schlegel, Lect. iii. vol. i. p. 81; Donaldson, Greek Theatre, sect. ii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1048_1048" id="Footnote_1048_1048"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1048_1048"><span class="label">[1048]</span></a> Hecuba, 429, 924-31.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1049_1049" id="Footnote_1049_1049"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1049_1049"><span class="label">[1049]</span></a> Troades, 132, 377.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1050_1050" id="Footnote_1050_1050"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1050_1050"><span class="label">[1050]</span></a> Ver. 770.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1051_1051" id="Footnote_1051_1051"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1051_1051"><span class="label">[1051]</span></a> Ver. 855-78.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1052_1052" id="Footnote_1052_1052"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1052_1052"><span class="label">[1052]</span></a> Ver. 900.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1053_1053" id="Footnote_1053_1053"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1053_1053"><span class="label">[1053]</span></a> Ver. 909-60.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1054_1054" id="Footnote_1054_1054"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1054_1054"><span class="label">[1054]</span></a> I do not remember to have -seen the principles of Isocrates -rigorously applied in modern literature, -excepting in the Adrienne -de la Cardonnaye of M. Eugène -Sue’s <i>Le Juif Errant</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1055_1055" id="Footnote_1055_1055"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1055_1055"><span class="label">[1055]</span></a> Hel. Enc. 61.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1056_1056" id="Footnote_1056_1056"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1056_1056"><span class="label">[1056]</span></a> Ibid. 47.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1057_1057" id="Footnote_1057_1057"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1057_1057"><span class="label">[1057]</span></a> Ibid. 54.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1058_1058" id="Footnote_1058_1058"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1058_1058"><span class="label">[1058]</span></a> Il. ii. 875.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1059_1059" id="Footnote_1059_1059"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1059_1059"><span class="label">[1059]</span></a> Od. xviii. 366-75.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1060_1060" id="Footnote_1060_1060"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1060_1060"><span class="label">[1060]</span></a> Il. ii. 260.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1061_1061" id="Footnote_1061_1061"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1061_1061"><span class="label">[1061]</span></a> Od. i. 58.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1062_1062" id="Footnote_1062_1062"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1062_1062"><span class="label">[1062]</span></a> Od. v. 215-20.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1063_1063" id="Footnote_1063_1063"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1063_1063"><span class="label">[1063]</span></a> Od. iv. 285-8.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1064_1064" id="Footnote_1064_1064"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1064_1064"><span class="label">[1064]</span></a> In proof of the establishment -of this curious usage in our -literature, (which attracted the -notice of Selden,) see Mawmet, -Maumetry in Richardson’s Dictionary, -with the illustrative passages.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1065_1065" id="Footnote_1065_1065"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1065_1065"><span class="label">[1065]</span></a> Tro. 285-9, 1216.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1066_1066" id="Footnote_1066_1066"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1066_1066"><span class="label">[1066]</span></a> Hor. Ep. I. ii. 18.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1067_1067" id="Footnote_1067_1067"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1067_1067"><span class="label">[1067]</span></a> Hor. Epist. I. ii. 1-31.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1068_1068" id="Footnote_1068_1068"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1068_1068"><span class="label">[1068]</span></a> Æn. ii. 90. et seqq.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1069_1069" id="Footnote_1069_1069"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1069_1069"><span class="label">[1069]</span></a> Æn. vi. 628.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1070_1070" id="Footnote_1070_1070"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1070_1070"><span class="label">[1070]</span></a> Æn. iii. 272. sup. p. <a href="#Page_522">522</a>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1071_1071" id="Footnote_1071_1071"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1071_1071"><span class="label">[1071]</span></a> Pind. Nem. iii. 43-64.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1072_1072" id="Footnote_1072_1072"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1072_1072"><span class="label">[1072]</span></a> Epithal. Pel. and Thet. 339-372.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1073_1073" id="Footnote_1073_1073"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1073_1073"><span class="label">[1073]</span></a> Hor. A. P. 120. It will be -remembered that the ruthless -Bentley struck out even the <i>honoratum</i> -of the text, and, with -an audacity surpassing his great -ingenuity, put in <i>Homereum</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1074_1074" id="Footnote_1074_1074"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1074_1074"><span class="label">[1074]</span></a> Il. i. 122.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1075_1075" id="Footnote_1075_1075"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1075_1075"><span class="label">[1075]</span></a> Ib. 149.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1076_1076" id="Footnote_1076_1076"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1076_1076"><span class="label">[1076]</span></a> Stat. Achill. i.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1077_1077" id="Footnote_1077_1077"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1077_1077"><span class="label">[1077]</span></a> Act v. sc. 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1078_1078" id="Footnote_1078_1078"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1078_1078"><span class="label">[1078]</span></a> Achilleis, v. 163.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1079_1079" id="Footnote_1079_1079"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1079_1079"><span class="label">[1079]</span></a> Seneca, Troades, 765. Ibid. 609 <i>et seqq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1080_1080" id="Footnote_1080_1080"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1080_1080"><span class="label">[1080]</span></a> Act iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1081_1081" id="Footnote_1081_1081"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1081_1081"><span class="label">[1081]</span></a> Ibid. 685.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1082_1082" id="Footnote_1082_1082"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1082_1082"><span class="label">[1082]</span></a> Prologue to Dryden’s Troilus and Cressida; and again in the -Epilogue spoken by Thersites: -</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"><div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse">‘You British fools, of the old Trojan stock.’</div> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1083_1083" id="Footnote_1083_1083"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1083_1083"><span class="label">[1083]</span></a> Hist. Greece, ch. i. sect. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1084_1084" id="Footnote_1084_1084"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1084_1084"><span class="label">[1084]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> ii. 59.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1085_1085" id="Footnote_1085_1085"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1085_1085"><span class="label">[1085]</span></a> <span lang="it" xml:lang="it">Gerus.</span> ii. 58.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1086_1086" id="Footnote_1086_1086"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1086_1086"><span class="label">[1086]</span></a> Stevens on Troilus and Cressida.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1087_1087" id="Footnote_1087_1087"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1087_1087"><span class="label">[1087]</span></a> Chaucer’s Troilus and Cressida, book iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1088_1088" id="Footnote_1088_1088"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1088_1088"><span class="label">[1088]</span></a> Act iii. sc. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1089_1089" id="Footnote_1089_1089"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1089_1089"><span class="label">[1089]</span></a> Act iv. sc. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1090_1090" id="Footnote_1090_1090"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1090_1090"><span class="label">[1090]</span></a> Troilus and Cressida, v. 9.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1091_1091" id="Footnote_1091_1091"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1091_1091"><span class="label">[1091]</span></a> Ibid. v. 10.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1092_1092" id="Footnote_1092_1092"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1092_1092"><span class="label">[1092]</span></a> Dryden’s Troil. and Cress., act ii. sc. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1093_1093" id="Footnote_1093_1093"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1093_1093"><span class="label">[1093]</span></a> Act v. sc. 2.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1094_1094" id="Footnote_1094_1094"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1094_1094"><span class="label">[1094]</span></a> <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Acte</span> iii. sc. 5.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1095_1095" id="Footnote_1095_1095"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1095_1095"><span class="label">[1095]</span></a> <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Acte</span> iv. sc. iii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1096_1096" id="Footnote_1096_1096"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1096_1096"><span class="label">[1096]</span></a> <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Acte</span> iii. sc. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1097_1097" id="Footnote_1097_1097"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1097_1097"><span class="label">[1097]</span></a> Il. i. 27.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1098_1098" id="Footnote_1098_1098"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1098_1098"><span class="label">[1098]</span></a> Od. iv. 220-6.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1099_1099" id="Footnote_1099_1099"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1099_1099"><span class="label">[1099]</span></a> Od. x. 287.</p></div> - - -</div> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="transnote"><h2 class="nobreak">Transcriber's Note</h2> - - -<p>Page headers in the printed book have been converted to sidenotes.</p> - -<p>The map at the back of the book has been moved to accompany its description in the text.</p> - -<p>The following apparent errors have been corrected:</p> - -<ul><li>p. 7 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀρχιτεκτονική</span><span class="fnanchor">[14]</span>; and that ethical"—footnote marker added</li> - -<li>p. 9 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασίλεια</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεία</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 20 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασιλεία</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Βασίλεια</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 26 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αὐτός</span>.<span class="fnanchor">[43]</span>"—footnote marker added</li> - -<li>p. 28 "no where" changed to "nowhere"</li> - -<li>p. 31 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασίλεια</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βασιλεία</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 44 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πυγμαχίη ἀλεγείνη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">πυγμαχίη ἀλεγεινὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 52 "Iaolcus" changed to "Iolcus"</li> - -<li>p. 61 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀεικές</span><span class="fnanchor">[126]</span><span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">·</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀεικές</span><span class="fnanchor">[126]</span>,"</li> - -<li>p. 62 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄγρος</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγρὸς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 64 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κλεός</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κλέος</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 70 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιόεργοι</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιοεργοὶ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 96 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βούλη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 96 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βούλη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλή</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 96 (note) "408-8" changed to "408-9"</li> - -<li>p. 97 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 98 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἦκε</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἧκε</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 100 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρῃ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορῇ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 103 (note) "24, 391" changed to "24. 391"</li> - -<li>p. 104 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>" (two instances)</li> - -<li>p. 110 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαλὰ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάλα</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 117 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρην</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴν</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 119 "Coward that that" changed to "Coward that"</li> - -<li>p. 121 "slighest" changed to "slightest"</li> - -<li>p. 123 "render you”" changed to "render you’"</li> - -<li>p. 131 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἤνδανε</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἥνδανε</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 140 (note) "497" changed to "497."</li> - -<li>p. 151 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἤως</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 153 (sidenote) "in Troas" changed to "in Troas."</li> - -<li>p. 153 "Ἤφαιστος" changed to "Ἥφαιστος"</li> - -<li>p. 162 (note) "Ibid" changed to "Ibid."</li> - -<li>p. 172 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 172 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μαλὰ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">μάλα</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 179 "the the same" changed to "the same"</li> - -<li>p. 180 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιόεργος</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">δημιοεργὸς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 211 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἐκυρὴ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκυρὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 216 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">αἶδος ἀγητόν</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εἶδος ἀγητόν</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 226 "colleagues<span class="fnanchor">[483]</span>." changed to "colleagues<span class="fnanchor">[483]</span>:"</li> - -<li>p. 236 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βούλη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 237 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρῃ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορῇ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 237 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρας</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὰς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 237 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλεύτης</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλευτὴς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 239 "twenty one" changed to "twenty-one"</li> - -<li>p. 239 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βούλη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βουλὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 239 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγόρη</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀγορὴ</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 246 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἀϊδὼς</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Αἰδὼς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 251 "rout" changed to "route"</li> - -<li>p. 254 "arbitary" changed to "arbitrary"</li> - -<li>p. 279 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἀνέμοι</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἄνεμοι</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 287 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἤως</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Ἠὼς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 294 the footnote marker after "current of Yenikalè" had no matching footnote in the printed book; the footnote attached to the preceding quotation from Od. xi. 13 appears to correspond to this marker.</li> - -<li>p. 320 "(7981)" changed to "(79-81)"</li> - -<li>p. 330 "or Corfu" changed to "of Corfu"</li> - -<li>p. 353 "(95-673)" changed to "(495-673)"</li> - -<li>p. 355 "415" changed to "415."</li> - -<li>p. 357 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὖρεν</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">εὗρεν</span>" (two instances)</li> - -<li>p. 358 "141." changed to "141,"</li> - -<li>p. 359 (sidenote) "xii, 239" changed to "xii. 239"</li> - -<li>p. 363 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θωρρήσσεσθαι</span>" changed to <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">θωρήσσεσθαι</span></li> - -<li>p. 375 "the speech" changed to "speech"</li> - -<li>p. 384 (note) "persongaes" changed to "personages"</li> - -<li>p. 393 "gallant just" changed to "gallant, just"</li> - -<li>p. 410 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βῆ ῥ</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">βῆ ῥ’</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 413 "short," changed to "short."</li> - -<li>p. 418 "Though" changed to "‘Though"</li> - -<li>p. 430 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τετρακὶς</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">Τετράκις</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 437 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατόμβοῖον</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">ἑκατόμβοιον</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 459 "and violet" changed to "and blue"</li> - -<li>p. 465 "Od x." changed to "Od. x."</li> - -<li>p. 483 "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὔρανος</span>" changed to "<span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">οὐρανὸς</span>"</li> - -<li>p. 514 "thown" changed to "thrown"</li> - -<li>p. 546 "exchantress" changed to "enchantress"</li> - -<li>p. 578 "passage," changed to "passage"</li> - -<li>p. 613 "Boisjermain,’" changed to "Boisjermain,"</li> -</ul> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling, hyphenation, italics and punctuation have otherwise been kept as printed.</p> - -<p>The following are used inconsistently in the book:</p> - -<ul><li>ablebodied and able-bodied</li> - -<li>abovenamed and above-named</li> - -<li>anything and any thing</li> - -<li>battlefield and battle-field</li> - -<li>bonâ and bona</li> - -<li>breastplate and breast-plate</li> - -<li>commonplace and common-place</li> - -<li>control and controul</li> - -<li>cornfield and corn-field</li> - -<li>farfetched and far-fetched</li> - -<li>foulmouthed and foul-mouthed</li> - -<li>fountainhead and fountain-head</li> - -<li>later and latter</li> - -<li>Outer Geography and Outer geography</li> - -<li>pseudo-Ulysses and Pseudo-Ulysses</li> - -<li>reenter and re-enter</li> - -<li>reestablished and re-established</li> - -<li>S.E. and S. E. (etc.)</li> - -<li>semifabulous and semi-fabulous</li> - -<li>tomorrow and to-morrow</li> - -<li>watchfires and watch-fires</li></ul> - - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Studies on Homer and the Homeric Age, -Vol. 3 of 3, by W. E. 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