UC-NRLF B ^ D3M Mfi2 HOMER: AX INTRODUCTION TO THE ILIAD AND THE ODVSSEV. PUBLISHED BY JAMES MACLEHOSE AND SONS, GLASGOW jaublislurs to lite ©nsbevsitg. MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDOX. Londo7t, - - - Siinpkt7t, Hatniiton and Co Cavibridge, • - Maamilan and Bozves. Edinburgh, - - Douglas and Fouiis. HOMER AN INTRODUCTION TO THE ILIAD AND THE ODYSSEY BY R. C. JEBB, LiTT.D. REGIUS PROFESSOR OF GREEK AND FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, AND M.P. FOR THE UNIVERSITY : HON. D.C.L. OXON. : HON. LL.D. HARVARD, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW AND DUBLIN: HON. DOCT. PHILOS. BOLOGNA. /i6. Slavery 54 17. The greater family. — Aidos. Nemesis .... 54 ^18. The Homeric civilisation "55 J 19. Archaeological evidence ^■. .56 •^ 20. Use of stone . 56 vj2i. The Homeric house. The court 57 22. The aethusa and prodomus 57 23. The megaron ......... 59 24. Women's apartments. Analogy to later Greek house . . 60 25. Interior fittings and decoration, etc 61 nJ 26. Social manners 62 i 27. Homeric dress 64 '28. Homeric armour . ........ 65 ^29. Homeric art d^ ' 30. (^ Shield of Achilles. Other works 67 31. Standards of value. Writing. Craftsmen. Merchants . 69 32. Life in the similes. Scenes on the Shield .... 70 J 33. Funeral rites 71 \..34. The state of the dead 71 CONTENTS. IX CHAPTER HI. HOMER IN ANTIQUITY. PAGE \l. Influence of the Homeric poems 74 2. Minstrelsy in Homer. Iliad. Odyssey • ' > * 7S 3, 4. Post-Homeric recitation. Rhapsodes .... 76 5. Homeridae 78 6. The rhapsode in the fourth century b.c 78 /•J. Was Homer ever sung ? The rhapsode as commentator . 80 ^, 9, 10. Homer in education 81 ii, 12. Homer's influence on Greek rehgion .... 83 i^. Greek view of Homer as a historian 84 14. Poems ascribed to Homer in antiquity . . . '85 r5. Notices of Homer's life. Earliest traces. A shadowy per- sonality 87 si 16. Allegorizing interpretation . . . . . . .89 \f'i'j. Rhetorical treatment .90 A 8. Rationalising criticism 90 ('19. Alexandrian materials for Homeric criticism. The ancient vulgate ......... 91 20. Zenodotus 92 21. Aristophanes 93 22. Aristarchus '93 • 23. Characteristics of his work 94 24. Didymus. Aristonicus. Herodian. Nicanor ... 96 25. The Epitome. Codex Venetus A . . . . .96 26. The division into books 97 27. Crates and the Pergamene School 98 28. Demetrius. Eustathius 100 29. Scholia 100 30. Our text of Homer 10 r CHAPTER IV. THE HOMERIC QUESTION. ^ 1. The Chorizontes . . . • . . . ... 103 2. The modern Homeric question ...... 104 3, 4. Surmises before Wolf 105 CONTENTS. 5- 6. 7, ' 9- lO. II. yi2. '3- 14. '5- 16. 17- 18, 20. 21, 24, 26- 34- 35. 36. ^37. 39- 40. 41. 42. 43. 46. 47, 49. 50- 52. 53- 54. 55- 56. 57. 58. 59- 60. 61. 62. Vico. Robert Wood . Wolf's Prolegofnetia B. Wolf recognised a personal Homer Objections to Wolf's view of writing Summary ..... The story about Peisistratus 'Nature' and 'art' Elasticity of Wolf's theory. Developments Lachmann Hermann Reaction. The epopee view. Nitzsch Grote's 'Achilleid ' . . . 19. Estimate of Grote's theory Geddes 22, 23. W. Christ 25. Texture of the 6>^/>'jj-^_y. Kirchhoff -33. Analogy of other early epics Homeric language Traditional epic element False archaisms .... 38. Differences between Iliad and Odyssey Lost sounds. The digamma Inconstant use of the digamma in Homer Supposed errors of transliteration Fick's theory .... 44, 45. Estimate of it . The tale of Troy — how far historical 48. Site of Homeric Troy . Origin of the Homeric picture of Troy The Epic Cycle .... Analysis of the Trojan Cycle Summary of bject General survey of results. Views which may be rejected Deceptive unity of the epic style Conservative tendency of recent studies The primary poem. Special advantages of the su The poem was an ' Iliad ' from the first Enlargement of the primary Iliad. Books 2 to Books 12 to 15 Books 8 and 9 Books 23 and 24 Book 10. The greater interpolations . CONTENTS. XI 6^' Summary. — Age and origin of the primary //?Vr^ 64. Arguments for the European origin. — Two strata of tradition ..... 6^. Estimate of this argument 66. The argument from Homeric silence 67. Inference — early fixity of form in the Iliad 68. The primary //zW — perhaps Thessalian. — The afterwards lonicised 69. Ancient belief in an Asiatic Homer 70. The European claim can be reconciled with the Asiatic 71. Authorship of the earlier enlargements . 72. Predominant significance of the first poet J73. Origin of the Odyssey .... 74. Ionian development of the poem 75. Authorship ...... 76. Relations with the Iliad. Age 77. Conclusion ...... APPENDIX. Note I, p. 61. The house at Tiryns (with plan) . . -175 Note 2, p. 136. Differences between Homeric and later classical Greek . . . . . . . . .186 Note 3, p. 139. Differences of language between \he Iliad and the Odyssey 188 Note 4, p. 140. Homeric words which show traces of the digamma 189 Note 5. Homeric versification 191 A list of books on Homer . 198 HOMER, CHAPTER I. General Literary Characteristics of the Poems. 1. The literature of Greece, and of Europe, begins with Homeric 1 lomer, whose name will be used here to denote ' the E^their Iliad and the Odyssey^ without implying that one man twofold composed the whole of both or of either. The interest of Homer is twofold, poetical and historic al. He is the greatest epic poet of the world, and the only representative of the earliest artistic form which the Greek mind gave to its work. He is also the first author who presents any clear or vivid picture of Aryan civilisation. An entire period of early Hellenic life which, but for him, would be almost a blank, is seen to be connected by an unbroken course of development with the later Hellenic age. 2. The Homeric poems themselves attest a pre-Homeric Pre-Ho poetry. They are the creations of a matured art. But ^^^^^ the earlier and ruder essays of that art have left few traces. The little that is known can be briefly summed up, so far as it directly concerns the study of Greek literature. (i) The Greeks had old folk-songs on the death of (i) Songs a beautiful youth, — Linus, Hylas, lalemus, Hyacinthus, ggasons Adonis, — i.e. on the spring yielding to summer, the summer J- f C , , , . t, ,, , , , , 'ftpMER. [CH. I. to autumn, or t^'e'liVe. ' In the Iliad {he 'Linos' is a solo sung by a youth to the lyre at a vintage festival, among the maidens and youths who carry the baskets of grapes, and who dance in time to the song (//. i8. 569) \ The origin of such songs was Semitic. But they suited that early phase of the Aryan mind in which religion was chiefly a sense of divinity in the forces of outward Nature, and which, in India, is represented by the Vedic hymns. A distinctively Greek element began early to show itself in the numerous local legends as to the personal relationships of the youth who had perished. {2) Le- (2) A later stage than that in which the Linus-song bard^^^ originated is represented by the legends of the earliest (a)Thra- Greek bards, {a) Some of these are called 'Thracian,' and cian are associated with the worship of ' the Muses ' — the god- S^oup- desses of memory, or record, a vvorship which can be traced as spreading from the northern coasts of the Aegean to the district Pieria at the n.e. corner of Thessaly, and thence southwards to the Boeotian Helicon and the Phocian ^^) South- Parnassus, {b) Other prehistoric bards are specially asso- ciated with hymns to Apollo, — indicating a stream of influence which passed from Asia, through Crete and other \c) Asia- Aegean islands, to Greece Proper, {c) A third group lie group. q£ g^j.}^, bards is connected with Asia Minor, especially ^ These Nature-songs were brought from the East to Greece, and then, in Greek fashion, were linked with local myths. The song of Linos probably came from Phrygia through Thrace, and was specially localised at Argos. Sappho used the form OItoKlvos, which, ace. to Paus. 9. 29. 8, she derived from very ancient hymns, ascribed to the Athenian Pamphos. Herodotus (2. 79) identifies Li7tos with the Egyptian prince Maneros, { = i)ia-n-hra, 'come to me', the refrain of a song in which Isis was represented as mourning Osiris) : and says that the song {aet(r/ia) 'Linos' was famous in Cyprus, Phoenicia, and else- where. '■Linos'' came from atXcpov, ai lenu, 'woe for us', the refrain of the Phoenician mourners in Syria and Cyprus for Thavimuz (Ezek. Wii. 14), the Greek Adonis. Similar conceptions were the Lydian and Phrygian Attes or Atys, the Bithynian Bormos, the Mysian Hylas, the Lacedaemonian ffyacinthos, the Arcadian Skephros {aK€. Mdx'7 TrapairoTd/jiLos.) The River-god Scamander fights with Achilles, who is saved by Hephaestus. *XXII. (X. "EKTopos dvaipeffLS.) Achilles fights with Hector, and chases him thrice round the walls of Troy. Zeus weighs in golden scales the lots of Achilles and Hector. Hector is doomed to die: Apollo deserts him, while Athene encourages Achilles. Achilles slays Hector. *XXni. (^. ^M\a iirl HarpoKXy.) The spirit of Patroclus appears to Achilles, and craves burial for the corpse : which is burned on a great pyre, with slaying of many victims : twelve Trojan captives are slain, and cast on the pyre. Games follow, in honour of the funeral. *XXIV. (O. "E/cropos Xvrpa.) As Achilles daily drags the corpse of Hector round the barrow of Patroclus, Apollo pleads with the gods, and Zeus stirs up Priam to go and ransom the body of his son. The god Hermes, in disguise, conducts the aged king across the plain; Achilles receives him courteously, and accepts the ransom ; and Priam goes back to Troy with the corpse of Hector, to be mourned and buried. Structure 6. The Odyssey owes its unity to the person of Odysseus, Odys ey. ^-nd this unity is necessarily of a closer kind than exists in the Iliad. The epic may conveniently be divided into groups of four books, (i) i. — iv. The adventures of Tele- machus. (2) v. — viii. The adventuffes*^ Odyss'^us, after leaving Calypso's isle, till he reaches Phaeacia. (3) ix. — XII. The previous adventures of Odysseus. (4) xiii. — xvi. Odysseus at the hut of Eumaeus in Ithaca. (5) xvii. — XX. The return of Odysseus to his house. (6) xxi. — XXIV. The vengeance on the suitors, and the re-establish- ment of Odysseus in his realm. I. (a. Qeoou dyopd. 'Adrjuas irapalveaLS Trpos HryK^ixaxov.) It is the tenth year since the fall of Troy. Odysseus is now detained by the nymph Calypso in Ogygia, an isle of the far west; while his wife, Penelope, in Ithaca, is beset by suitors, lawless men, who feast riotously in the house, as though it wete their own. In the council of the gods, Athene urges that Poseidon, the sea-god, has vexed Odysseus long enough; and she herself goes to Ithaca, and stirs up Telemachus to go in search of his father. II. (jS. 'IdaKTj&ioji/ dyopd. TrjXefxdxov dTro5r]fxla). Telemachus calls an assembly of the Ithacans, and appeals to them to protect his CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. <> rights; but the suitors mock him, and nothing is done. Athene, however, disguised as a chief named Mentor, gets him a ship, wherein Telemachus, with the supposed Mentor, sails for Pylus in Elis. III. (7. To iv IluXy.) Nestor, the old king of Pylus, receives them hospitably. At the banquet, ' Mentor' vanishes, and Nestor per- ceives that their guest has been the goddess Athene, to whom he pours a drink-offering. Then Telemachus sets out for Sparta, with Nestor's son, Peisistratus. IV. (5. Ta ev KaKedalfiovL.) Menelaus, king of Sparta, receives them, and his wife Helen knows Telemachus by his likeness to his father. Having learned that his father is in Calypso's isle (Menelaus had been told this by the seer Proteus in Egypt), Telemachus prepares to return to Ithaca. Meanwhile Penelope hears of a plot by the suitors to slay her son; but Athene comforts her in a dream. V. (e. KaXyi/'oGs avrpov. 'Odvaffecds crxeSia.) The gods at last send Hermes, and tell Calypso to let Odysseus go; and she obeys. Odysseus builds himself a flat-bottomed vessel (not simply what we call 'a raft'), and puts to sea. On the i8th day his old enemy Poseidon espies him, and wrecks him; but the sea-goddess Ino ( = Leucothea) gives him a veil which buoys him up, and at last he comes ashore at the mouth of a river in Scheria, the land of a great sea-faring folk, the Phaeacians. VI. (f. 'Odvjaicos data/cas.) Nausicaa, daughter of the Phaeacian king Alcinous, comes down to the river with her handmaids, to wash linen ; and having done this, they play at ball. Their voices awake the sleeping Odysseus; he entreats their pity; and Nausicaa shows him the way to her father's city. VII. {tj. 'Odvcra^ws ecaodos irpos 'AXklvovv.) King Alcinous and his queen, Arete, receive Odysseus in their splendid palace, and he tells his adventures since he left Calypso's isle. VIII. (9. '08v(Taici3$ avaraaLS irpos ^aiuKas.) Alcinous calls an assembly of the Phaeacians, and it is resolved that the stranger shall have a ship to take him home. Games are held. Then at a feast given by the king, the minstrel Demodocus sings of Troy : the stranger weeps ; and the king presses him to tell his story. [Books IX. — XII. were called collectively 'AXkLuov dwoXoyoL, the 'narratives to Alcinous'.] IX. (t. KuKXwTreta.) Odysseus tells how, on leaving Troy, he came to the Cicones (in Thrace) ; afterwards to the Lotus-eaters ; and then to the land of the Cyclopes, where he put out the one eye of Polyphemus. X. (k. Td Trept AldXov /cat AaLaTpvyducvv koI KlpKrjs.) His ad- ventures with the wind-god Aeolus; with the Laestrygonians ; and with the enchantress Circe. lO HOMER. [CH. I, XI. (X. Xe'/futa.) How he went down to Hades, the place of the dead, and spoke with many spirits of the departed. XII. {fx. lleLprjues, S/ci;XXa, Xdpv^dis, ^6es 'RXiov.) His ad- ventures with the Seirens, and Scylla and Charybdis; and how his comrades ate the sacred oxen of the sun in tlie isle Thrinacria ; wherefore they all perished at sea, and he came alone to Calypso's isle, Ogygia. XIII. {u. 'Odvffcricjs dvaTrXovs irapd ^aiaKOiv Kal a0t^is e^s 'IdaK-qv. ) The Phaeacians take Odysseus back to Ithaca; and, as they are re- turning, Poseidon turns their ship to stone. Athene appears to Odysseus in Ithaca; changes him into the likeness of an old beggar-man; and counsels him how he shall slay the suitors. XIV. (^. '05i;cr(Teajs irpos Eii/xaiop ofiiXia.) Odysseus converses with his old swine-herd Eumaeus, who knows him not. XV. (o. TrjXe/idxou Trpos EiJaaiov a0t|is.) Telemachus returns to Ilhaca, and seeks the dwelling of Eumaeus. XVI. (tt. ' AvayvojpLCTfxos 'Oducra^ojs vtto Tr]\€fji.a.xov.) Odysseus, temporarily restored to his proper form by Athene (cp. xiii.), reveals himself to his son. They concert a plan for slaying the suitors. XVII. {p. TrjXefLdxou eirdvodos els 'IdaKrjv — i.e. to the town: he has been in the isle since xv.) Telemachus goes to the town. He keeps his father's return a secret from his mother, telling her only what he had heard abroad. Odysseus — once more the old beggar-man — comes to the house with Eumaeus; the dog Argos knows his disguised master, and welcomes him, and dies. XVIII. ((T. '05i'°^'^T -^^ ^^^ ^^^^ freshness and simpHcity of a primitive age, — all ral the charm which we associate with the 'childhood of the stamp, world'; while on the other hand it has completely surmounted the rudeness of form, the struggle of thought with language, the tendency to grotesque or ignoble modes of speech, the incapacity for equable maintenance of a high level, which belong to the primitive stage in literature^ This general character is that which Mr Matthew Arnold defines, in his excellent lectures on translating Homer, when he says that Homer's style has four principal qualities ; it is rapid ; plain in thought; plain in diction; and noble \ The English reader will perhaps see this most clearly if he compares Homer with our old ballads on the one hand, and, on the other, with a form of poetry which shares, indeed, the name and form of 'epic,' but is of an essentially different nature from the Homeric, — namely, the literary epic, such as the Ae7ieid or Paradise Lost. Ivelation 8. Before instituting any comparison between the bal- lad lads and Homer, we must guard ourselves by marking its poetry, limit. The old English and Scottish ballads, such as those in Percy's ' Reliques ' and other collections, belong to a much ruder stage of poetical development than the Iliad and the Odyssey. In Greek there are no remains of the stage pro- perly corresponding to our ballads ; as in English, on the other hand, we have no Homer. The ^ballad ' proper was a narrative poem, while the 'song' was the vehicle of per- sonal feeling ; and though the line was not rigidly drawn, still the balladist, by tradition and instinct, confined himself, as a rule, to simple narrative. The ' ballad ' and the *song' were contemporary products, whereas the Greek epic existed before Greece had any properly lyric poetry ; and ^ He remarks that, as a translator of Homer, Cowper fails to be rapid ; Pope, to be plain in diction ; and Chapman (imbued with the ^conceits' of the Elizabethan age) to be plain in thought, — Homeric though he is in so much, — 'plain-spoken, fresh, vigorous, to a certain degree, rapid.' CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. I3 the Homeric epic, while it is mainly a narrative, is also rich in the germs of the unborn lyric. Such are those utterances of thought and sentiment concerning human hfe, — utterances often so deeply suggestive and pathetic, — which fall from the hps of the Homeric persons, and which contribute to give the Homeric poems their profound and universal human interest, — a moral and philosophic significance, over and above their splendid pictures of action. As a medium of poetry, the relatively poor and narrow form in which the balladist worked cannot for an instant be compared with Homer's spacious and various epic. But we may illustrate certain Homeric quaHties by inquiring how far they are, or are not, present in the ballads. We find, then, that the ballads share with Homer the Homeric first three qualities named above ; they are rapid in move- f^^he^^ ment- ; plain in thought ; and plain in diction. There are ballads. moments, further, when to these three qualities they add the fourth quality, — nobleness ; and it is then that they become, in some degree, Homeric. Such moments usually occur under one of two conditions ; viz., when the ballad describes a crisis of warlike action, or when it describes a vehement outburst of natural emotion. An example of the first kind is the part of Chevy Chase where ' a squire of Northumberland' warns the Percy's men that the Douglas ' Leave off the brittling of the deer ! ' he said, — ' And to your bows look ye take good heed t * For sith ye were o' your mothers born * Had ye never so mickle need.' The doughty Douglas on a steed He rode at his men beforne ; His armour glitter'd as did a glede : A bolder baron never was born. *Tell me what men ye are,' he says,— * Or whose men that ye be ! * Who gave you leave to hunt in this 'Cheviot Chace in the spite of me?" 14 HOMER. [CH. I. That is rapid ; it is direct in thought and in language ; further, it has a martial dignity of its own ; and, uniting these quahties, it produces an effect on the mind somewhat analogous to that which is produced b}^ the warlike scenes of the Iliad. Consider, again, the description in the Iliad of Achilles in his first passion of grief for the death of Patroclus, — Antilochus having just brought the news : — ' Thus spake he, and a black cloud of grief enwrapped Achilles, and with both hands he took dark dust, and poured it over his head, and defiled his comely face, and on his fragrant doublet black ashes fell, and himself in the dust lay mighty and mightily fallen, and with his own hands tore and marred his hair.' In the ballad of 'Jamie Telfer,' Wat of Harden, a chieftain of Teviotside, sees his son Willie killed before his ■eyes in a Border foray. A chivalrous nature, in its first agony of grief and anger, is portrayed here also. The stanzas are ennobled by the intensity of natural pathos, and, despite all difference of form, are thus far Homeric in spirit : — But Willie was stricken ower the head. And thro' the knapscap^ the sword has gane ; And Harden grat for very rage, When Willie on the ground lay slane. But he's taen afif his gude steel cap, And thrice he's waved it in the air; The Dinlay snaws were ne'er mair white Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair. •Revenge! Revenge!' auld Wat 'gan cry; ' Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie, ' We'll ne'er see Teviotside again, 'Or Willie's death revenged sail be-.' The But now take the ballad on its ordinary level of ball"d^ narrative, where it is not raised by any such glow of passion, tone. and compare it with some analogous part of Homer. In the Odyssey King Alcinous suggests to his noble guest 1 head-piece. — 'Dinlay' (v. 7), a Liddesdale hill. — 'lyart' (v. 8) = grey. 2 Prof. Veitch's History and Poetry of the Scottish Border (Mac- Lehose, 1878), from which I take this (p. 397), would furnish many other fine examples : see esp. ch. xi. CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 15 (whom he does not yet know to be Odysseus) that he should stay in Phaeacia, and marry his daughter Nau- sicaa : — • Would to father Zeus, and Athene, and Apollo, would that so goodly a man as thou art, and like-minded with me, thou wouldst wed my daughter, and be called my son, here abiding : so would I give thee home and wealth, if thou wouldst stay of thine own will : but against thy will shall none of the Phaeacians keep thee : never be this well- pleasing in the eyes of father Zeus.' Absolutely simple and direct as that is, it is also perfect in refinement and in nobleness. King Estmere, in the old ballad which bears his name, wishes to marry King Adland's daughter; and Adler, Estmere's brother, announces this to Adland : — 'You have a daughter,' said Adler young, — ' Men call her bright and sheen ; * My brother would marry her to his wife, 'Of England to be Queen.' King Adland replies : — ' Yesterday was at my dear daughter ' Sir Bremor, the King of Spain ; ' And then she nicked him with Nay : ' I fear she'll do you the same.' I take this example, because the difference between the tone of King Adland and of King Alcinous seems a not unfair measure of the average difference between the ballad, when it is on its ordinary level, and Homer. It might be questioned whether Mr Matthew Arnold is quite just to the balladists in quoting as a typical verse, When the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine : but, at any rate, the main point is indisputable; the balladist is altogether a ruder workman, and also stands on a much lower intellectual level, than the Homeric poet ; whose style varies appropriately to his theme, but always and every- where maintains its noble grace, maintains it, too, without the slightest stiffness, or visible effort ; and whose thoughts on human life show a finer and deeper insight than that of 1 6 HOMER. LCH. 1. the balladists. We have been glancing at our old ballads here as representing early folk-song, made by the people for the people. The result is to show that the Homeric poetry is something maturer and higher. Early folk-song has its moments of elevation, and in these comes nearer to Homer; but its general level is immeasurably lower. Homer ^, 9. It is Still more important, perhaps, to perceive the Hterar t)road difference between the Homeric epic and the literary epic. epic of later ages. The literary epic is composed, in an age of advanced civilisation, by a learned poet. His taste and style have been influenced by the writings of many poets before him. He commands the historical and anti- quarian Uterature suitable to his design. He composes with a view to cultivated readers, who will feel the more recondite charms of style, and will understand the literary allusions. / The general character of the literary epic is well illustrated by the great passage of Paradise Lost where Milton is saying how far 'beyond compare of mortal prowess' were the legions of the fallen Archangel : — And now his heart Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength, Glories; for never, since created Man, Met such embodied force, as named with these, Could merit more than that small infantry Warred on by cranes — though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with the heroic race were joined That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mixed with auxiliar gods; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son. Begirt with British and Armoi'ic knights ; And all who since, baptized or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia. It is a single and a simple thought — the exceeding might of Satan's followers — that Milton here enforces by example after example. A large range of literature is laid under CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 1 7 contribution, — the classical poets, the Arthurian cycle, the Italian romances of chivalry, the French legends of Charle- magne. The lost angels are measured against the Giants, the Greek heroes, the Knights of the Round Table, the champions of the Cross or the Crescent, and the paladins slain at Roncesvalles. Every name is a literary reminiscence. By the time that ' Aspramont' is reached, we begin to feel that the progress of the enumeration is no longer adding anything to our conception of prowess ; we begin to be aware that, in these splendid verses, the poet is exhibiting his erudition. But this characteristic of the literary epic, — its proneness to employ the resources of learning for the production of a cumulative effect, — is only one of the traits which are ex- empliiied by the passage. Homer would not have said, as Milton does, that, in comparison with the exiled Spirits, all the chivalry of human story was no better than 'that small infantry warred on by cranes;' Homer would have said that it was no better than the Pygmies. /^Homer says plainly and directly what he means ; the Uterary epic likes to say it allusively ; and observe the turn of Milton's expression, — Hhat small infantry;' i.e., 'the small infantry which, of course, you remember in the third book of the Iliad' Lastly, remark Milton's phrase, 'since created Man,* meaning, 'since the creation of Man.' The idiom, so familiar in Greek and Latin, is not English, and so it gives a learned air to the style; the poet is at once felt to be a scholar, and the poem to be a work of the study. Homer's language is everywhere noble, but then it is also natural. So, within the compass of these few lines, three characteris- Summary, tics may be seen which broadly distinguish the' literary epic from Homer.. It is learnedly elaborate, while Homer is spontaneous; it is apt to be allusive, while Homer is ^\J direct ; in language it is often artificially subtle, while Homer, though noble, is plain'. The Homeric quality ^ 'The uniivalled clearness and straightforwardness of his thinking' is a point in which Mr Matthew Arnold finds an affinity between Homer and Voltaire. Like Voltaire, Homer 'keeps to one thought at J. 2 / 1 8 HOMER. [CH. I. which the Hterary epic best attains is nobleness ; yet the nobleness is of a different cast j it is a grave majesty, of stately but somewhat monotonous strain; whereas the noble manner of Homer lends itself with equal ease to every mood of human life; it can render the vehemence of dark passions, or reflect the splendour of battle, but it is not less truly itself in shedding a sunny or tender grace over the gentlest or homeUest scenes, — in short, it is every- where the nobleness of nature. Drvden ^o- It was once a commonplace of criticism to compare and Ad- Homer with the great literary epics as if they were works Homer, of tl^e same order. Dryden's Hnes are famous; — Three poets, in three distant ages bom, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn: The first in loftiness of thought surpassed; The next in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go ; To make a third she joined the former two^. Here, classing the three poets together, Dryden is con- tent with distinguishing Homer as sublime, Virgil as majestic, and Milton as both. Addison, again, compares the Iliad^ the Aeneid, and Paradise Lost in respect of plot, characters, sentiments, and language, — without indicating any sense of the generic difference which separates the Iliad from the other two. To ignore this difference, however, is even more unjust to Virgil and to Milton than it is to Homer. The epic poet in a literary age cannot escape from his age, and the primary condition of justly estimating his poetry is to recognise that it is 7iof a voice from the primitive world; but then he has a task of his own, such as was not laid on the author of the Iliad and the Odyssey, he has to deal with great masses of more or less intractable a time, and puts that thought forth in its complete natural plainness, instead of being led away from it by some fancy, striking him in con- nection with it.' 1 They were first printed under White's portrait of Milton in the edition of Paradise Lost published by Tonson in 1688. Masson's edition of Milton, I. 20. CH. I. I GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. ig materials, — to select from them, — to organise the selected parts, — and to animate them with a ntal breath; he has, in poetry, a constructive function analogous to that which, in prose, is performed by a Li\7 or a Gibbon ; and who does not know with what marvellous power this task has been achieved — in different modes and in different degrees — by the genius of Virgil, of Dante, and of Milton? Then, towards the close of the last century, the origin of the Homeric poems began to be critically discussed, — and the new tendency was to make an assumption exactly op- posite to thai on which Addison's criticism rested. Wolf The protested against comparing Homer with the literar}^ epic ^^^ poets, such as Milton. The fashion now was to compare Homer with the makers of primitive folk-songs or ballads. But, as we have seen, this was a mistake in the opposite direction. The first step towards appreciating Homer's place in literature has been gained if we clearly perceive wherein Homer mainly differs from Chevy Chase on the one hand, and from Paradise Lost on the other. II. At this point we may refer, for illustration, to an Homer analogy which our own literature offers, — one which, however ^y^itg^ imperfect, is in several respects suggestive, — the analog}^ of Scott. ^Valter Scott's poetry. The relation of Scott to Homer may be viewed from two different sides. If a direct literary- comparison is made. — if the form of Scott's poetr}^ is com- pared \vith that of Homers, — the contrast is more evident than the likeness. If, on the other hand, we look for an analog}-, and not for a direct resemblance, — if Scott's relation to our old balladists is compared with Homer's relation to a ruder age of song, — if the spirit in which Scott re-animates the age of chivalr}* is compared with the spirit in which Homer re-animates the age of Achaean heroism, — then a genuine kinship is discerned. For the English student of Homer, there could scarcely be a more in- teresting exercise than to estimate this unlikeness and this analogy ; it is one which tests our appreciation of Homer in several ways ; and, it may be added, it is one which 2 — 2 trast. 20 HOMER. [CH. 1. can be attempted with equal profit by those who entertain dissimilar views as to the precise poetical rank of Scott. To begin with the unlikeness, Scott's poetry was formed on the old Border ballad, modified by the medieval element romance; in the note prefixed to Marmion he calls that of con- poem a 'Romantic Tale,' and disclaims all idea of essaying 'epic composition.' When, therefore, Mr Matthew Arnold says of Scott's style that 'it is, tried by the highest standards, a bastard epic style,' it is only just to re- member that Scott would himself have deprecated the application of those ' highest standards.' But it is true that, as the same critic says, Scott's style has an inherent inability for maintaining the Homeric level of nobleness ; it necessarily shares that defect with the ballad form on which it is founded. Mr Arnold has quoted these lines (from Marmion vi. 29) as typical of Scott : Tunstall lies dead upon the field, His life-blood stains the spotless shield : Edmund is down — my life is reft — The Admiral alone is left. He makes two remarks upon them, — that the movement, though rapid, is jerky; and that this external trait points to a deeper spiritual diversity, which the lines also reveal, — Scott's incapacity for the grand manner of Homer. This example is, however, utterly unfair to Scott. First, the *jerkiness' of these lines does not represent the normal movement of Scott's verse where it is most Homeric, — they belong to the broken utterances of the wounded Marmion, as, recovering from his swoon, he hurriedly tells the disastrous tidings of the field to those around him, — their abruptness is purposed' : — next, the whole passage is infinitely far from representing Scott's nearest approach to ^ A critic having observed this, Mr Arnold rejoins ('Last Words on translating Homer,' p. 67) that 'the best art, having to represent the death of a hero, does not set about imitating his dying noises.' But Marmion's words are not 'dying noises'; and poetry is surely per- mitted to represent abrupt speech. CH. I.J GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 21 the manner of Homer. Adequately to represent that, we might rather quote, from the same Canto, the magnificent description of Flodden, beginning — At length the freshenmg western blast Aside the shroud of battle cast ; And, first, the ridge of mingled spears Above the brightening cloud appears, And in the smoke the pennons flew. As in the storm the white sea-mew — or, from the Lay^ William of Deloraine's ride from Brank- some to Melrose ; or Dacre's defiance to the warriors of Scotland — 'And let them come,' fierce Dacre cried; 'For soon yon crest, my father's pride, ' That swept the shores of Judah's sea, ' And waved in gales of Galilee, ' From Branksome's highest towers display'd, ' Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid ' — or, from the Lady of the Lake^ a farewell not unworthy to be compared with the parting of Hector and Andromache in the sixth book of the Iliad^ — the passage in which Duncan's widow sees her young son go forth to be the champion of their house : — In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony. Back to her open'd arms he flew, Press'd on her lips a fond adieu — *Alas!' she sobb'd, — 'and yet, be gone, * And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! ' One look he cast upon the bier, Dash'd from his eye the gathering tear, Breathed deep to clear his labouring breast, And toss'd aloft his bonnet crest j Then, like the high-bred colt, when, freed, First he essays his fire and speed, He vanish'd, and o'er moor and moss Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 2 2 HOMER. [CH. I. Or — to take but one instance more — the lines, picturing the career of the Fiery Cross, in which Homer's favourite image of a fire raging in the hills is joined to much of Homer's magic in the use of local names — Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, Balquhidder, speeds the midnight blaze, Rushing in conflagration strong Thy deep ravines and dells along, Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, And reddening the dark lakes below ; Nor faster speeds it, nor so far As o'er thy heaths the voice of war.... But it is not by a few detached verses that either the unlikeness or the affinity between Homer and Scott can be measured : both must be judged by the spirit of the whole. The unlikeness, as we have seen, depends on the inherent limitations, not merely of the ballad form, but of the ballad tone ; it may be briefly expressed in the proposition that a translation of Homer into the metres and style of Scott could never be successful. The ele- The affinity, on the other hand, is profounder and ment of jnore essential. On any view as to the oricjin of the analogy. •' ° Homeric poems, it is certain that the age of Achaean prowess lay behind the Homeric poet, but was still so near to him — either in time, or through tradition — that he could realise it with entire vividness. Scott stood in a similar relation to a past age of warlike and romantic adventure. This was due to the peculiar condition of Scotland at the • date of his birth in 1771. Those literary influences which tend to make the difference between an Aeneid and an Iliad were in full force, indeed, at Edinburgh, but they were little felt, as yet, in Scotland at large. The memories and feelings of an earlier time still survived, with extraordinary freshness, in the life of the people. Old men could still tell of stirring deeds associated with the risings ot 1 745 and 1 7 1 5 ; in many a Scottish home some episode of stubborn devotion was dear to the descendants of those who had CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 23 died for the Covenant ; and, in the Border country, ballad and legend still enabled men to feel the mental atmosphere of yet more distant days, when the bale-fire, signalling some inroad from the south, used to flash from peel to peel along the valleys of the Ettrick and the Yarrow, the Teviot and the Tweed. From childhood Scott had breathed this atmosphere and had known these scenes. His strong genius was in the largest sense Homeric, as being in natural sympathy with the heroic. Thus, by a com- bined felicity of moment and temperament, he was in touch with that past. Those features of his poetical style which are most liable to academic criticism are just those which show how far he had escaped from what is most anti-Homeric in an age of books. As Principal Shairp has well said, 'It is this spontaneity, this naturalness of treat- ment, this absence of effort, which marks out Scott's poetry^ as belonging essentially to the popular, and having little in common with the literary, epic\' Nowhere else, per- Summary, haps, in modern literature could any one be found who, in an equal measure with Scott, has united these three conditions of a true spiritual analogy to Homer j—:living realisation of a past heroic age ; a geniu^in native sympathy with the heroic ; and a manner which joins the spontaneous impulse of the balladist to a higher order of art and intellect. 12. Fresh, direct, and noble, the Homeric mode of pre- The senting life has been singularly potent in tracing certain types ^|oi^''S'^ic of character which ever since have stood out clearly before ters. the imagination of the world. Such, in the first place, are the heroes of the two epics, — Achilles, the type of heroic might, violent in anger and in sorrow, capable also of chivalrous and tender compassion ; Odysseus, the type of resourceful intelligence joined to heroic endurance, — one in whom the power of Homer is seen even better, perhaps, than in Achilles, since the debased Odysseus of later Greek poetry never succeeded in effacing the nobler image of his ^ Aspects of Poetry^ ch. xili. p. 394. 24 HOMER. [CH. I. Homeric original. Such, again, are the Homeric types of women, so remarkable for true and fine insight — Andro- mache, the young wife and mother, who, in losing Hector, must lose all; Penelope, loyal under hard trial to her long-absent lord ; the Helen of the Iliad^ remorseful, clear-sighted, keenly sensitive to any kindness shown her at Troy ; the Helen of the Odyssey^ restored to honour in her home at Sparta; the maiden Nausicaa, so beautiful in the dawning promise of a noble womanhood, — perfect in her delicacy, her grace, and her generous courage. From Agamemnon to Thersites there is no prominent agent in the Homeric epic on whom Homer has not set the stamp of some quality which we can feel as distinctive. The divine types of character are marked as clearly, and in the same manner, as the human; — Zeus, the imperious but genial ruler of the Olympian family, — intolerant of com- peting might, but manageable through his affections or his appetites; Hera, his wife, who never loses sight of her great aim, — the advancement of the Greek cause, — but whose sometimes mutinous petulance is tempered by a feminine perception of the point at which her lord's character requires that she should take refuge in blandish- ments; Apollo, the minister of death, the prophet, active in upholding the decrees of his father Zeus, and never at discord with him ; Athene, who, unlike her brother Apollo, is often opposed to the purposes of Zeus, — at once a mighty goddess of war, and the goddess who presides over art and industry. Their 13. Of all such Homeric beings, divine or human, we per- va?ue ^^i^^ ^^ dominant qualities and the general tendencies; but they are not individualised beyond a certain point. Perhaps the persons whom we seem to know best are the intensely human Zeus and Hera, who furnish the only Homeric example of domestic wrangling.w^ The epic form, as com- pared with the dramatic, is necessarily at a disadvantage for the subtler delineation of character; -^ut, further, it was the special bent of the Greek genius, in poetry as in plastic art. CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 25 to aim at l ucid expression of primary motives, and to retrain from multiplying individual traits which might interfere with their effect; a tendency which is seen even in Greek drama. This typical quality in Homeric portraiture has been one secret of its universal impressiveness. The Homeric outlines are in each case brilliantly distinct, while they leave to the reader a certain liberty of private conception ; he can fill them in so as to satisfy his own ideal : and this is one reason for the ease with which Homer's truth to the essential facts of human life has been recognised by every age and race. 14. The speeches of the Homeric persons illustrate this. Their ex- They faithfully express th e ge neral attributes — of the fngpeech sp^akjers; but — supposing that we already know what these attributes are — we seldom feel that the speech has given us fresh insight of a closer kind : what we do feel is rather that we have heard a speech thoroughly appropriate to a given type of person in a given situation. As an example, we might refer to the great speeches in the ninth Iliad, where Odysseus, Ajax, and Phoenix come as envoys from the Greeks to Achilles, and he — in perhaps the most splendid example of Homeric eloquence — rejects their prayer. Oratorical power, and the faculty of debate — as a master of both has observed — are there seen in their highest form. The speeches are also admirably suited to the type of character which each speaker repre- sents; but they add none of those minor traits by which the secrets of individuality are revealed. A similar limit is observable in those cases where a or in person's inward thoughts are clothed in words, and given as a speech which he addresses to his own soul. These audible thoughts are usually in the nature of comments on the main point of the situation, and are such as might have been made by a sympathetic bystander; they are com- parable to the utterances of the Chorus in Greek Tragedy \ ^ The regular formula is, ox^^Vas S' apa eiTre irpo% ou /neyaX-qropa 6v/j^w (in which 6x^77(Ttts, ' troubled,' is a general term, denoting, according to 26 HOMER. [CH. I. Divine ^5- The profound human interest of the Homeric poems and human jg enhanced by another feature in which they stand altogether alone — their mode of blending_div ine and human action. The Homeric gods meet mortals in hand-to-hand fight, they wound them or are wounded by them, they aid or thwart them, advise or deceive them, in visible presence; and it is the unique distinction of Homer that all this is managed without ever making the rlpiti>c^ l^c;,^ f)ian Hiving or t he mor tals mor e than human. ♦^'^omer alone has known how to create a sphere of action in which man's nature is constantly challenged to prove its highest capacity by the direct pressure of a supernatural force, while the gods are not lowered, but exalted, by meeting men on common ground. If we would feel how the Homeric communications between heaven and earth reconcile perfect ease and grace of inter- course with celestial dignity and religious awe, let us contrast them with the abrupt interventions of the deus ex machijia in some plays of Euripides, or, again, with such a relationship of gods and men as the literary epic is apt to represent, — the Aeneid^ for example, where Jupiter is little more than an idealised Roman Senator, and the agency of Olympus generally, instead of being vitally interwoven with the organism of the poem, is rather a mechanical adjunct. Homeric 1 6. A hterary estimate of Homer owes particular notice "^^.^.^ to one abounding source of variety, vividness, and beauty. The Homeric use of simile is so characteristic, it plays so important a part in the poems, and it has so largely in- fluenced later poetry, that it is well worthy of attentive consideration. The first point to observe is that Homeric simile is not a mere ornam ent. It serves to introduce I ■ ■ circumstances, grief, anxiety, terror or anger). It is used in the Iliad of Achilles (i8. 5, 20. 343, 21. 53), Hector (22. 98), Odysseus (11.403), Menclaus (17. 90), Agenor (21. 552). In the Odyssey \i occurs thrice, always of Odysseus (5. 298, 355, 407). The menacing thoughts of Poseidon against Odysseus are twice introduced by a similar formula (/ctfTjcras 6^ Ko-py] irporl ov fivd-qaaro dufiov, 5. 285. 376). CH. I.] GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. 27 something which Homer ,ji esires to rend erjsxceptionally imp ressive, — some moment, it may be, of peculiarly in- tense action, — some sight, or sound, full of wonder, or terror, or pity, — in a word, someth inp: sreat . He wishes to prepare us for it by first describing something similar, only more familiar, which he feels sure of being able to make us see clearly. ♦^Thus the Homeric similes are responses to a demand made on the narrator by the course of the narrative; they indicate a spontaneous glow of poetical energy; and consequently their occurrence seems as natural as their effect is powerful. In the eighteenth book of the Iliad Athene invests Achilles with the aegis, and encircles his head with 'a golden cloud,' from which she makes a flame to blaze. This gives occasion for one of the most beautiful similes in Homer (//. i8. 207) : — As from an island city, seen afar, The smoke goes up to heaven, when foes besiege; And all day long in grievous battle strive The leaguered townsmen from their city wall: But soon, at set of sun, blaze after blaze, Flame forth the beacon-fires, and high the glare Shoots up, for all that dwell around to see. That they may come with ships to aid their stress: Such light blazed heavenwards from Achilles' head^. The comparison is between the flame flashing from the golden cloud above the head of Achilles and the beacon- fire which, in the gloaming, flares out beneath its column of smoke. The circumstances of the island siege serve as framework for the image of the beacon. This is fre- quently the case in Homeric simile.^ When Homer com- pares A to B, he will often add details concerning B which have no bearing on the comparison. /"]?or instance, when ^ This version is from an admirable translation of ' The Similes of Homer's Iliad' by the Rev. W. C. Green, late Fellow of King's College, Cambridge (Longmans, 1877). In v. 211 I have ventured to substitute 'Flame forth' {(pXeyidoviXLv) for 'Are lit,' because I con- ceive the fires to have been lit before. 28 HOMER. [CH. 1. the sea-god Poseidon soars into the air from the Trojan plain, he is compared to a hawk (^.f. l;^. 62), — That from a beetling brow of rock Launched in mid air forth dashes / 9, 10, 23, 24). The character of Thessaly as especially the equestrian land is illustrated by the frequency of the horse on the coins of Crannon, Larissa, Pharsalus, and Pherae (Geddes, p. 248). 44 HOMER. [CH. II. Asia Minor. We also find the Niobe myth localised at Mount Sipylus on the Lydian border'. Odyssey. 6. In the Odyssey, the coast of Ionia is better known. GecKTra- ^^^ ^^^^ ^°^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Chios, and of * windy Mimas', phy. the neighbouring promontory on the Ionian mainland ^ The poet knows the altar of Apollo in Delos, the central resort of early Ionian worship ^ 'Dorians' are once mentioned, 1^ in Crete*. In Greece Proper we still hear of 'Pytho', as in ^ the Iliad, not yet of Delphi^ As to the islands on the west side of Greece — Ithaca and the adjacent group — the poet knew some of their general characteristics. Ithaca is rugged and rocky, as he says — suited to goats, and not to horses. But it is not a 'low' island, and his description of its position, relatively to its neighbours, is hard to reconcile with the supposition that he was personally familiar with it^ Odyssey. y. Jn the 'outer' geography of the Odyssey, we find that geogra- ^^^ Phoenician traders are now thoroughly familiar visitors. phy. ^ The Asia Minor traits belong chiefly to books 2 — 7, 9, and 24. River Cayster and ' Asian ' meadow (first extant trace of the name 'Asian'), //. 2. 461 : Icarian sea, 2. 145: Mt Sipylus, 24. 615. I omit the argument of Dr Geddes (p. 281), from //. 2. 535, AoKpQv ot vaiovat iriprju lepTjs Bu^oLtjs (that the poet is looking westward from Ionia), because this occurs in the Catalogue, which, as plainly of Boeotian origin, I should distinguish from book 2. i — 483. 2 Qd^ '^' \*li vwivepde 'Kioto, Trap' rjuefxSevTa Mlfj-aj^ra. » Od. 6. 162. ^ Od. 19. 177. Aw/ji^es re TpLxouKes, usually explained as 'divided into three tribes;' but perhaps rather 'with waving locks (or crests)', fr. 6pl^, and dta-a-w (rt. ai/c), as Mr Monro thinks : cp. Kopvddl'^, rroXvdl'^. 6 Od. II. 581. * Ithaca is distinctly placed to the wesi of Cephallenia (Sa/i??) and far apart from it {Od. 9. 25 f.). Ithaca is really to the north-east of Cephallenia, and is divided from it only by a narrow strait. Then Cephallenia is said to form a group, apart from Ithaca, with Zacynthus (Zante !), and Dulichium — which Mr Bunbury identifies with Leucadia (Santa Maura) : Anc. Geo. i. 69. (I agree with Mr W. G. Clark, Peloponn. p. 206, that Santa Maura is much too small, and not in the right position for Dulichium.) The best description of Ithaca in relation to Homer is to be found in Mr W. J. Stillman's papers, ' On the Track of Ulysses,' in the Century Magazine for Sept. and Oct., 1884. See also Bunbury, Anc. Geo. i. 68, 83. CH. II.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 45 Voyages to Egypt seem also familiar, though 'the river Egyptus' is the only name for the Nile. The 'swart-faces' of the Iliad are thus far more defined, that the Odyssey knows two divisions of them — eastern and western Aethio- pians. Libya is named for the first time. The 'Sicilians^' are mentioned; and in the last book (which has been regarded as a later addition to the poem) we find 'Sicania"' (an older name for 'Sicily'). Odysseus, on sailing from Troy, is first driven to the land of the Cicones on the coast of Thrace, and then crosses the Aegean to Cape Malea (the S.E. point of the Peloponnesus); hence he is driven out to sea by evil winds. From that moment, till he Wander- finally reaches Ithaca, his wanderings belong to the realm J^|^ "* of fancy. The 'Lotus-eaters' were doubtless suggested to — imagi- the poet by sailors' stories of a tribe on the north-coast of ^^"^y* Africa who lived chiefly on the fruit of the lotus-tree ^ Scylla and Charybdis were suggested by a rumour of perils run by mariners in the straits of Messina*. Further than this we cannot go. When the early Corinthian settlers in Corcyra became skilful seamen, they set up the claim that Corcyra was the Homeric home of the seafaring Phaeacians. This was the common creed of the old world, and still lives 1 St/ceXot, Od. 20. 383 (in 24. 211 etc. the old attendant of Laertes is a Si/ceXij). 2 2t/ca;'t77 Od. 24. 307. The 'ZiKavol were early immigrants from Iberia, koX o-tt avrCiv 'LiKdvia rbre ij vrjaos e/caXeiTo, Trpbrepov TpivaKpia Ka\ovp.ivr} (Thuc. 6. 2), The St/ceXof were later immigrants from Italy. 2 Od. 9. 82 fif. Her. 4. 177. Scylax {Periplus no) places them near the lesser Syrtis (Gulf of Khabs). Polybius 12. 2 describes the lotus {rhamnus lotus) from personal knowledge as yielding a fruit which, when prepared, resembled the fig or date, — and also as yielding wine. ■* Thuc. 4. 24 ■^ /iera^i) ' P7j7^ou ^dXacr era Ka.\^lea(Ty]vr]%...iaTivr\^6.pv^hi% KkriBelaa. tovto — owing, as he says, to the dangerous eddies andcurrcnis. Admiral Smyth has described these {The Mediterranean, pp. 178 — 182) : cp. Bunbury, Afic. Geo. i. 61, who remarks that 'anything in the nature of a whirlpool ' has ever been subject to exaggeration — instancing the Norwegian Maelstrom and the Corrievrechan in the Hebrides. polity. 46 HOMER. [CH. II. in Corfu'. But even this has no real warrant from Homer. The Odyssey knows *Thesprotia/ the part of southern Epeirus over against Corcyra, yet never names it in con- nection with Scheria, the land (never called the island) of the Phaeacians. It is futile to aim at mapping out the voy- age of Odysseus as definitely as 'the voyage of Magellan or Sum- Vasco de Gama^' The whole impression left by the "^^■^y- Odyssey is that a poet, who himself knew only the Aegean zone, wove into imaginary wanderings some touches derived from stories of the western Mediterranean brought by Phoenician traders, who had reached the south of Spain as early as about iioo b.c.^ Homeric 8. Not a word in Homer shows acquaintance with the great monarchies on the Euphrates or the Tigris. The names of Assyria and Babylon are never heard. Civilisation, outside of the Aegean, is represented solely by Egypt and Phoeni- cia^. Remembering the despotic character of kingship in the oriental empires — that character which Herodotus has so graphically depicted in Xerxes — we cannot fail to be impressed by the contrast which the Homeric world reveals. Here, as in the East, monarchy is the prevalent form of government. But it is a monarchy which operates mainly 1 Thuc. i. 25. Canoni Bay in Corfu (so called from the cannon mounted there) is shown as the spot where Odysseus met Nausicaa (' Chrysida,' in the local version). 2 Bunbury, Anc. Geo. i. 50, whose remarks on this subject are judicious. Almost all the fabulous tribes and places of the poem have been prosaically localised. Thus: — the land of the Cyclopes = Sicily (Eur. Cyclops assumes this): Laestrygones = Sicily (Greek view), or = Formiae in Campania (Roman view): isle of Aeolus = Stromboli (one of the ' Aeoliae insulae,' or Lipari group) : isle of Calypso = Gaudos (Gozo, close to Malta on the N. E.) : Circe's isle = the promontory (!) of Circeii on the Italian coast — &c. 3 Cp. Bunbuiy, Anc. Geo. i. 6 fi. * In Od. II. 520 haipoL KTjretoi (z'. /. k7]5€lol) fall at Troy with Eurypylus. These comrades of the Mysian hero have been rashly claimed as Hittites by some ingenious writers. It is hardly necessary to observe that the name 01 that people (the IT/iila of the Egyptian monuments) would not appear in Greek as K^retoi. CH. II.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 47 by reasonable persuasion, appealing to force only in the last resort. Public questions are brought before the whole body of those whom they concern. The king has his duties no less than his privileges. At this early age — while in each non-Hellenic monarchy 'all were slaves but one*' — ■ the Hellenes have already reached the conception of a properly political life. 9. ' Basileus V ' leader of the people,' ' duke,' is the title King, of the royal office. It includes 'chiefs' or 'kings' of different relative rank: thus Agamemnon, the suzerain, is 'most royaP.' Every basileus rules by right hereditary and divine : Zeus has given the sceptre to his house. The distinguishing epithet of the Homeric kings, ^Z^MS-fiiirtiired^' (otorpet^T;?) means generally, 'upheld and enlightened by Zeus,' but is further tinged with the notion of the king's ^ Eur. Hel. 276 to. ^ap^dpcou yap douXa iroLVTa ir\riv ivos: whereas the early Greek monarchies were founded on consent {eKovaiai., as Arist. Po/. 3. 10. 1 1 says). 2 Curtius would derive it from rt. /3a and Ion. \ey = Xao (cp. Aevrv- X'^Srjs), a compound like 2T7j6^s (v. 1. KaraKkGidis) re ^apelai \ yecvo/xevcp vr^aavTO Xivif, these 'spinners' are merely 'the half-personified agency of alaa,' as Mr 4—2 52 HOMER. [CH. II. hold the right, alike among gods and among men. They punish all crimes against the family ; especially they execute the curses of injured parents on children. They do not allow the aged or the poor to be wronged with impunity. They bring retribution for perjury. In a word, they are the sanctions of natural law. The immortal steed Xanthus, suddenly endued with human speech by the goddess Hera, spoke to Achilles, and revealed his doom ; then ' the Erinyes stayed his voice' (//. 19. 418). The gods 14. As compared with the Iliad^ the Odyssey shows a '"J^^^ somewhat more spiritual conception of the divine agency. The vivid physical image of Olympus and the Olympian court, as the Iliad presents it; has become more etherial. It is a far-off place, ' where, as they say, is the seat of the gods that standeth fast for ever. Not by winds is it shaken, nor ever wet with rain, nor doth the snow come nigh thereto, but most clear air is spread about it cloudless, and the white light floats over it. Therein the blessed gods are glad for all their days' {Od. 6. 42 ff.). 'The gods, in the likeness of strangers from far countries, put on all manner of shapes, and wander through the cities, beholding the violence and the righteousness of men' {Od. 17. 485). Divine The gods of the Iliad most often show their power on agency ^^ bodies or the material fortunes of man ; it is com- more . ^ spiritual, paratively seldom that they guide his mind, by inspiring a thought at a critical moment. In the Odyssey the latter form of divine agency becomes more prominent. 'When Athene, of deep counsel, shall put it into my heart, I will nod to thee,' says Odysseus to his son {Od. 16. 282). Faith in their help has become a more spiritual feeling. ' Consider whether Athene with Father Zeus will suffice for us twain, or whether I shall cast about for some other champion.' 'Verily,' Telemachus answers, 'the best of champions are these two thou namest, though high in the Merry remarks ; comparing, as other examples of personification stopping short of mythology, dpirviac, the personified storm-winds {0(^. I. 245), and Kparads (Od. \2. 124). CH, II. J THE HOMERIC WORLD. 53 clouds is their seat' {ib. 260 ff.). While the notion of the Other gods has been thus far spiritualised, the notion of the ^°™^ supernatural generally takes many fantastic forms \ associated super- with that outer Wonderland, beyond the Aegean zone, of"^^""^^^' which sailors had brought stories. It is here that we find those beings or monsters who are neither gods nor men — Calypso, Circe, Fo^fieEus, Proteus, Aeolus, Scylla, the Sirens. "^ 15. The Homeric notions of right and wrong have a Homeric simplicity answering to that of the religion, but are strongly ^^'^^^^• held. They begin with the inner circle of the family. The The ties of the family are sacred in every relation, — between ^' husband and wife, parent and child, kinsman and kinsman. Polygamy is not found among Greeks. The picture of the Trojan Hector and Andromache in the Iliad — the pictures of Menelaus and Helen, Alcinous and Arete, above all, Odysseus and Penelope, in the Odyssey — attest a pure and tender conception of conjugal affection. The prayer of Odysseus for the maiden Nausicaa is this : — ' May the gods grant thee all thy heart's desire: a husband and a home, and a mind at one with his may they give — a good gift, for there is nothing mightier and nobler than when man and v/ife are of one heart and mind in a house' {fid. 6. 180 ff.). Dependents of the family are included in the recognised duty of kindness and help. So are those who have a claim • ^ E.g. the herb *moly', given by Hermes to Odysseus as a charm against Circe's evil spells {Od. 10. 302) ; the 'imperishable veil' of Ino, which saved Odysseus from drowning (z/^. 5. 346); the flesh 'bellowing on the spits', when the oxen of the Sun were being roasted by the com- panions of Odysseus {ib. 12. 395); the Phaeacian ship suddenly turned to stone {ib. 13. 163}; the second-sight of the seer Theoclymenus, when he forebodes the death of the suitors (compared by Mr Lang to the visions of Bergthora and Njal in the Story of Burjtt Njal ii. 167) : — 'Shrouded in night are your heads and your faces and your knees, and kindled is the voice of wailing, and all cheeks are wet with tears, and the walls and the fair beams of the roof are sprinkled with blood' {Od. 20. 351 ff.). In the Iliad the nearest analogies to such marvels are the speaking horse (19. 407), the self-moving tripods of Hephaestus (18. 376), and his golden handmaids, who can move, speak and think {ib. 418). 54 HOMER. [CH. II. Strangers on hospitality : ' for all strangers and beggars are from Zeus ' Tian^s^" (6>^. 6. 208). The suppliant (ikctt;?) must be protected, even when he seeks refuge from the consequences of blood-shed (//. 16. 573); for the Zeus of Suppliants has him in keeping i^Od. 13. 213), and will punish wrong done to him (//. 24. 570). Slavery. 16. Slavery in Homer wears a less repulsive aspect than in later periods of antiquity. It is the doom for prisoners of war, however noble their birth: and instances are also mentioned of children, belonging to good families, being kidnapped by pirates or merchants {Od. 15. 403 ff.). It is recognised as an awful calamity : ' Zeus takes away the half of his manhood from a man, when the day of slavery over- takes him' {Od. 17. 322). But the very feeling for human dignity which this implies may have helped to temper the slave's lot. The Odyssey furnishes examples of devotedly attached slaves, and there is no Homeric instance of a cruel master. Homeric slavery seems to be domestic only, the slave being employed in the house or on the land : we do not hear of serfs bound to the soiP. Besides the slaves (8/xaJe?) there are also free hired labourers (6'f7Te?: Od. 4. 644). Limit 17. Themis, the custom established by dooms, acts as sphere of ^ restraining force within the largest circle of recognised themis. relationships. But outside of that circle — when the Greek has to do with a mere alien — themis ceases to act, and we are in an age of violence. Excommunication, political and social, is expressed by the form, 'outside of clan, custom, and hearth'". The life of a man-slayer was for- feit to the kinsmen of the slain, who might, however, accept a fine {Troivt]) as satisfaction. Speaking generally, ^ In Od. 2. 489, indeed, iirdpovpos has been taken as = adscrip^zis glebae; but it need not be more than an epithet describing the par- ticular kind of work on which the ^vjs was employed. ^ //. 9. 63 a(ppr]T03p, dOe/xtaros, dvi • IJ) 9 0PJCOYPA 1 E^XAPA < • rr < «ME PAPON® i « e < T r © 9 < -1 r |MEAIi^O$0YA0€i • AI«0OYol l®^A • ® ^ nPOAOMO? ©^ w» o^ AYAH 1^ < •<£ □ ^* ,^ ZEY? EPKZIO^ Jq < < 1 . . ., |. . . 1 The Homeric House of the Odyssey. (7rpoSo/>tos) or 'fore-hall/ as being immediately in front of the great hall, to which it served as a kind of vestibule. Hence aethusa and prodomus are sometimes used con- vertibly ; as when a person who sleeps under the aethusa is said to sleep in the prodomus. Guests, even of high distinction, were sometimes lodged there for the night \ ^ As Telemachus and Peisistratus, in the house of Menelaus at Sparta. Helen orders beds to be prepared for them v-w aldouaj] [Od. 4. CH. II.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 5^ The term * aethusa ' itself was a general one, being merely the epithet of a portico which is open to the sun's rays (at^eiv). Another portico, similar to that of the pro- dojjius, ran along the opposite side of the court, on each side of the gateway (TrpoOvpov), and, sometimes at least, along the two other sides of the court also, which then had a colonnade running all round it, — the pei-isiyh {Trepta-TvXov) of later times. Hence the Homeric phrase, ' he drove out of the gateway and the echoing portico' (//. 24. 323). Hence, too, the prodovius (with its portico) can be dis- tinguished from the alOovcra avXrj<5, which then means the colonnade on the opposite side, or the other sides, of the court (//. 9. 472 f.). 23. From the prodomiis a door led into the great hall The (fiiyapov, Soj/jia). In the house of Odysseus, this door has a '^^^S^-ro"^ threshold of ash (/xe'Atvos ouSo's, Od. 17. 339), while the opposite door, leading from the great hall to the women's apartments, has a threshold of stone (AatVo?, Od. 20. 258). Each threshold, as appears from the story, was somewhat raised above the level of the floor. In one of the side-walls of the hall, near the upper end, was a postern {opaoOvpy]), also raised above the floor, and opening on a passage ' {Xavpr}) which ran along the outside of the hall, communi- cating both with the court and with the back part of the house. At the upper end of the hall was the hearth (iaxa-pv)) ^t which all the cooking was done; for the hall served both as kitchen and as dining-room. Not only the guests but the retainers of the Homeric prince live and eat with him in the hall, — a number of small tables (one for every two persons, as a rule) being ranged in it from end to end; in the house of Odysseus, upwards of sixty such tables must have been in use. In this respect .the home-life of the Achaean basileus resembled that of the medieval baron or the Scandinavian chief. 297), and they sleep iu trpo^b^i^ {ib. 302). So aidoiarj in //. 24. 644. — Trpoddficp ib. 673. If Odysseus, in his humble disguise, is fain to take a rough 'shake-down' in aldovaa^ the slight is not in the place but in the mode {Od. 20. i). 6o HOMER. [CH. II. 24. The women's part of the house was an inner court, immediately beyond the great hall, with which it was in direct communication by the door with the stone j^hresh- The old. The women's apartments are sometimes collec- ^'**°^^^ ^ tively called thalamos'^. They included the private room, ments. or rooms, of the mistress of the house (to which, in Penelope's case, access was given by stairs), and the work- rooms of the women slaves. In the house of Odysseus, the strong-room or treasury for precious possessions (6r]aavp6^), and the armoury {BdXafios ottXwv), were also in this region. The phrase /x-vxo? So/xov, * innermost part of the house,' is sometimes so used as to indicate a part beyond the women's court. Here, in the house of Odysseus, was probably the chamber, built by himself, enclosing the bed of which the head-post was an olive-stump (Od. 23. 192), — the sign by which he finally convinced Penelope of his identity ^ Analogy Thus the general plan of the Homeric house is Greek essentially that of the Greek house in historical times, house. There is an outer court, — the Homeric azi/e, the later an- ^ From the collective ihalamos — as a whole part of the house — dis- tinguish the plur. daXaixoL, said of the small chambers against the walls of the court-yard. So from mega7'on, in its special sense — the public hall — distinguish iik~^apa, said of work-rooms for the women in the thalamos {Od. 19. 16). 2 See Protodikos, p. 60. Some points in regard to the Odyssean house remain doubtful, (i) What was the circular BoKo% in the avk-ql {Od. 22. 442). Perhaps, as some of the ancients thought, and as Protodikos thinks (p. 24), a ra/xie'iov, — i.e. a sort of pantry, in which plates, dishes, cups, etc., were kept. (2) What were the fxSyes fieydpoio? {Od. 22. 143). I have elsewhere {yourn. Hellen. Stud.) given reasons for thinking that they mean the 'narrow passages,' leading from the opaoOvpa to the back-part of the house. The Neo- Hellenic povya is used in a like sense, and seems to be descended from the Homeric word (evidently once a familiar one). The Low Latin ruga (Fr. rtie) is not a probable source for it. (3) What were the fxeaoofxaL? {Od. 19. 37.) Probably the main (or longitudinal) beams in the roof of the megaron, while doKoi were the transverse beams ; as Protodikos holds (p. 37). Buchholz {Horn. Realien, p. 109) reverses the relation of doKoL and fj-eaoSjuLaL. CH. 11.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 6 1 drojiitis. There is an inner court for the women, with rooms round it, — the Homeric thalamos, the later gynae- conitis. And between the two there is the principal room of the house, in which the host and his guests eat, — the Homeric megaron or doma, the later andron^. 25. The public hall (megaron) in the house of Odysseus, Interior — a typical palace, — is not floored with wood or stone. The ^"^"^^ floor is merely earth trodden to hardness. There is, how- coration, ever, a long raised threshold of ash-wood inside the door ^^^* leading to the court-yard, and a similar threshold of stone inside the door leading to the thalamos. In the megaron of Alcinous, the walls are covered with plates of bronze, — a mode of ornamentation which had come into the Hellenic countries from Asia, and which continued to be used in the East for many centuries. Traces of it appear in the Treasuries of Mycenae and Orchomenus. Portions of the wood-work in the Homeric palace, especially doors and door-posts, may also have been overlaid with gold or silver. The cyanus (/cvaj/os), which adorned the cornice in the hall of Alcinous {Od. 7. 87), was formerly interpreted as bronze or blue steel. But there is now little doubt that it was a kind of blue glass paste, used as an artificial substitute for the natural ultramarine obtained by pul- verising the sapphire (lapis lazuli) ^ The brilliant effect of the metallic wall-plating and other decoration in the palace of Alcinous is marked by the phrase, 'a radiance of the sun or of the moon' {Od. 7. 84), which is also applied to the palace of Menelaus at Sparta {Od. 4. 45). The poet of the Iliad, on the other hand, ascribes such ^ With regard to the house at Tiryns, see Note at the end of the book. The origin and age of that house are doubtful ; but it certainly is not the Homeric house of the Odyssey. ^ See Helbig, pp. 79 — 82. The explanation was first suggested by R. Lepsius. The locus classicus is Theophrastus irepl XiOojv § 55, who distinguishes the natural Kvavos (auro^uT^j), or lapis lazuli, from the artificial (crKevacrTos). Fragments of an alabaster frieze, inlaid at intervals with small pieces of blue glass, were found at Tiryns. Their age is uncertain. 6: HOMFK. [CH. 11. docoratioi\ to r.o mortal's house — perhaps simply be- cause he has no oeeasion to describe the interior of a palace ; but he calls the house ol' the i;od Posei.lon *goUlen\ ami tb.at ot" the god Hephaestus 'bra/eii'. Metal- plating on wood or other material must be understood by the epithet 'golden' or •silvern' as applied to several objects in both epics. Such are the 'golden' sceptre, wand, distatV, bread-basket, chair, etc; th.e 'silvern' wool- basket, chest, table, etc. The hall was at once lighted and warmed by large braziers (\ajiiTrr>//t)es^), — three of which are brought in by the ni.iid-servants of Odysseus at night- fall: they light the tires with dry taggots, and take turns in watching to replenish them [OJ. 18. ^\oy). The smoke from the bra.:iers and the hearth sutliced to blacken the bows, speai-s. and other arms hung on the walls {df. it>. JooV The outlet for the smoke may have been an opening in the roof, though Homer mentions nothing of the kind\ Social 26. The social mannei^ of the time, in the house of a chief Bi.inner?. ^^j- ^|^^^ highest nvnk, may be gathered from the reception of Telemachus and his friend (Nestor's son Peisistratus) at the palace of ^[enelaus in Sparta. The travellers, in a chariot v'.rawn by two liorsos. drive up to the outer gate of the court-yard. A reiainer {('tpa-i.o\) informs the master of the house, and is ordered at once to unyoke the horses, and to conduct the strangers (whose n.-mes are as yet unknown") into the house. Accordingly the hoi^es are stabled, and the strangers are led into the great hall — which astonishes them by its splendour. Thence they are ushered to Ixiths. Having Kithed, anointed themselves with olive-oil and put on fresh raiment, they return to the great hall, where their host Menelaus receives them. They are placed on chairs beside him. A hand-maid brings a silver basin and a golden ewer, from which she pours water over their hands. A polished table is then placed beside them. *A grave ^ Such a hole or smoke-vent (lraTI^K^>«1^ Ion. for iraxro^ox?; — the Attic fcdJrny or ox1;^ belongs to the earliest form of Gnieco- Roman house : cp. Her. S. 137. — In cV. i. 320 cu'«>xa,a has been taken as 'up the smoke- vent'; but probably it means simply ' upwards ': see Merry a.;* /a:. CH. II.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 63 dame' (the house-keeper) brings bread (in baskets), and ' many dainties ' ; while a carver places on the table 'platters of divers kinds of flesh'', and golden bowls for wine. Menelaus then invites them to eat, and, as a special mark of honour, sets before them, with his own hands, a roast ox-chine. He does not yet know who his guests are ; but, when he mentions Odysseus in conversation, tears come into the eyes of Telemachus, who raises his purple mantle to hide them. Menelaus is musing on this, when the mistress of the house enters the hall"". Helen, in her radiant beauty, comes from the inner, or women's, part of the house — 'the fragrant tha- lamos' — attended by three hand-maids. She takes a chair, to which a foot-stool is attached ; at her side a maiden places a silver basket, on wheels, full of dressed yarn; and lays across it a golden distaff, charged with wool of violet blue. She and her lord converse with their guests until the night is far spent. Then supper is served, and Helen casts into the wine a soothing drug which she had brought from Egypt, — 'a drug to lull all pain and anger, and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow.' Presendy attendants, with torches, show the two guests to their beds in the porch, — 1 In the Homeric world, fish is not mentioned as a delicacy — rather it is regarded as the last resource of hunger {Od. 12. 329 ff., Od. 4. 36S). The similes from fishing point to the use of fish by poor people who could command no other animal food. 2 Helen in her own house at Sparta is the best example of the Homeric woman's social position — as Nausicaa is the best proof that the poet perfectly apprehended all that is meant by the word 'lady'. In comparing the Homeric place of woman with her apparently lower place in historical Greece, two things should be borne in mind, (i) The only Homeric women of whom we hear much are the wives of chiefs or princes, who share the position of their husbands. The women of whom we hear most from the Attic writers belong to relatively poor households : their social sphere is necessarily more confined. (2) The intellectual progress made between 800 and 500 B.C. was for the men, and only in exceptional cases for the women. The Homeric woman of 950 B.C. was probably a better companion for her husband than the Atuc woman of 450 B.C. 64 HOMER. [CH. II. where bedsteads, have been set, with purple blankets, and coverlets and thick mantles thereon {Od. 4. 20 — 305). A con- If we contrast this picture with that of the suitors in trast. Ithaca we feel the skill and deHcacy of the poet's touch. In the house of Menelaus, Homer presents a scene of noble and refined hospitality; in the invaded house of Odysseus he means to describe a scene of coarse riot. When one of the suitors snatches up an ox's foot from a basket, and throws it at Odysseus — missing him, and hitting the wall (Od. 20. 299 ff.) — we are not to infer that incidents of this kind were characteristic of good Homeric society. Homeric 27. The dress of the Homeric man is a shirt or tunic dress. {chiton)^, and over that a mantle {chlaifia)- ^\N\\\Qh answers to the outer garment called himatmi in the classical age. The Homeric woman wears a robe {peplus) reaching to the feet. On her head she sometimes wears a high, stiff coif, (K€Kpv(l>aXo<;), over the middle of which passes a many- coloured twisted band {TrXeKTrj dvaSiaixrjY, while a golden fillet glitters at the front. Either from the coif, or directly from the crown of the head, a veil {Kpxj^qxvov, Kokv-n-rp-q) falls over shoulders and back. In imagining such a scene as Helen standing on the walls of Troy with Priam and the Trojan elders (//. 3), the general picture (Helbig remarks) which we should conceive as present to the poet's mind is one dominated by the conventional forms and brilliant colours* ^ In//. 13. 685 the'Iao^'es (probably Athenians) are called eXKexi-rojues, *tunic-trailing' — i.e. wearing the long tunic which reached below the knee {xtTWf TepfiioeLs). This was once worn by Dorians as well as lonians, but was never the ordinary garment of daily life — being worn only (i) by elders or men of rank, (c) by other persons on festal occasions. The Homeric poet, when he said iXKexircoves, was perhaps thinking of an Ionian festival, such as that at Delos. See Helbig, pp. ii9fif. 2 Or (pdpos, Od. 6. 214. ^ Schliemann assumed that the TrXeKTr) dva^iaixr) was a golden frontlet. Helbig points out the error (p. 158), which the word irXeKTy itself refutes. A frontlet would have been dfiirv^. ^ The Homeric vocabulary of colour marks vividly the distinction between dar^ and /io-ki (or bright), but very imperfectly the distinctions CH. II.] THE HOMERIC WORLD. 65 of the East, — not by the free dignity and harmonious symmetry of mature Greek art. Priam and the elders of Troy wear close-fitting tunics, which in some cases reach to the feet — over these, red or purple mantles, which fall straight and foldless, — some of them embroidered with rich patterns, — the king's mantle, perhaps, with the picture of a fight. Their upper lips are shaven ; they have wedge- shaped beards; their hair falls over their cheeks in long locks fastened with golden spirals. Helen wears a richly- embroidered robe {peplus), which fits close to her form ; a costly perfume breathes from it ; on her breast glitter the golden brooches which fasten the peplus ; a necklace (opfMo^) hangs down to her breast, — the gold forming in it a contrast with the dark-red amber. On her head is the coif, with glittering frontlet, and the veil falling over the shoulders \ 28. The Homeric warrior has defensive armour resembling Homeric that of the heavy infantry soldier {Jioplite) of later times. ^'^"^°"^* This defensive armour is an essentially Greek trait ; it is not oriental. Thus the Ionian Aristagoras tells the Spartan Cleomenes that the barbarians, who fight with bows and short spears, go into battle wearing trousers and turbans ^ The Homeric defensive panoply consists of helmet, cuirass {Oiop-q^, formed of breast- plate and back-plate), greaves^ belt^ shield, and lastly the 'mitra,' — a girdle of metaly between shades of colour. Thus he says of a robe which was Kvaveov that nothing was fj-eXavrepou {II. 24. 93) : though kvoh^o^ properly = dark blue. He applies -xXupos both to young herbage (pale green), and ta honey {zl's, 'pale,' or perh. merely 'fresh-looking'). A striking parallel to his yXujpos is the Gaelic urail., as meaning (i) green of any shade, (2) 'flourishing,' — fresh, comely, — said of a face. Thus the character of the Homeric colour-sense is in accord with the character of Homeric art. The notion that 'Homer was colour-blind' has long been exploded. 1 Helbig, p. 194. 2 t6|o — alx/J-V ^pax^a — dva^vpldes — Kvp^affiai (Her. 5. 49). 3 ^(ji. Sextus Empiricus adv. Mathem. 9. 193 iroina Oeoh av^drjKav "0/xrjpos d"B.(xio86$ re | 8(X(ra Trap avdpdoiroLOLv 6vel5ea Kai xpoyos iffrl, \ KkiiTTav fJLOiX^veiv re kuI dXXTjXous dirarevHu. Timon the satirist (270 B.C.) called Xenophanes 'OfirjpawdTrjs iwLKOTrTTjs (castigator of Homeric fiction), unless, with Kiihn, we read '0/x7)poirdTr]s (trampler on Homer). Heracleitus, the contemporary of Xenophanes, is quoted by Diog. Laert. 9. i as saying that Homer (and Archilochus) deserved to be scourged (Heracl. fr. 119). 2 Or Simonides of Amorgos (660 B.C.), as Bergk surmises from the style {PoeL Lyr., 3rd ed., p. 1146). Fr. 85 ^v 5^ to xaXXto-roi' Xtos iiinrev dvrip' \ otrjirep (pvWwv yever], TOirjde Kal dvdpQiV. CH. III.] HOMER IN ANTIQUITY. 89 16. But, though he was not yet a subject of critical study, he was already a cause of intellectual activity. In the sixth, fifth, and fourth centuries B.C. the Homeric poetry gave manifold occupation to ingenious or frivolous minds. Al- most at the beginning of philosophical reflection in Greece the moral sense of some thinkers rebelled against the Homeric representation of the gods. The protest of Xeno- phanes has just been quoted. Hence arose the allegorising school of Homeric interpretation. Allegory afforded a refuge for the defenders of Homer. Theagenes of Rhegium, Alle- circ. 525 B.C., is mentioned as the earliest of the ^^le- ^^"^^"| gorizers\ He combined two modes of allegorizing which tation. afterwards diverged, — the moral (or mental), and the physical : thus Hera was the air ; Aphrodite was love. The moral allegorising was continued in the next century by Anaxagoras, who explained Zeus as mind, Athene as art. The physical mode was developed by Metrodorus of Lampsacus. Aristotle refers to the allegorizers as ' the old Homerists' (ot ap^aloi 'O/xrjpLKOL), and remarks that 'they see small resemblances, but overlook large ones ' {Metaph. 13. 6, 7). The allegorizers of the classical age were equalled, or surpassed, in misapplied subtlety by the Neo- platonists of the third century a. d., who discovered their own mystic doctrines in Homer ^ ^ Qeay^vrjs 6 'Frj-ylpos, 6 /caret Kafx^vayju yeyovuii, is named by Tatian adv. Graec. § 48 (quoted by Euseb. Praep. Evang. x. 2) at the head of a list of the earliest writers (ot irpea^uTaroi) who dealt with inquiries as to Homer's 'poetry, birth, and date.' In Plato's time (cp. Ion 530 d) the highest repute for comment on Homer was enjoyed by Stesimbrotus of Thasos and Metrodorus of Lampsacus. They, as well as Theagenes and Anaxagoras, are among the commentators mentioned in the Venetian Scholia. Wolf well describes the method of the allegorizers : * interpretatione sua corrigere fabulas atque ad physicam et moralem doc- trinam suae aetatis accommodare, denique historias et reliqua fere omnia ad involucra exquisitae sapientiae trahere coeperunt ' {Froleg. cxxxvi). 2 Porphyrins {circ. 270 A.D.), the pupil of Plotinus, has left a choice specimen of this in his treatise Hepl tov iv '05v(xa€lq.Tle (5i7r\^), 8-i (also >, ►3, or <1 ), a general mark of reference to the commentaries of Aristarchus, placed against a verse which contained anything notable, either in language or in matter. (3) The dotted diple, {5nr\TJ irepuaTLyfievrj,) Sf<, prefixed to a verse in which the reading of Aristarchus differed from that of Zenodotus. (4) The asterisk {acTeplaKos), *, when used alone, merely drew attention to a repeated verse. Thus it was prefixed to //. 2. 180 because that verse is the same {plus 6') as 164. But if a repeated verse seemed to be spurious in one of the two places where it occurred, the asterisk with obelus, * — , was prefixed to that place. (5) The antisigfua, D, and (6) the stigme or dot (oTt7/i^), were used in conjunction. Aristarchus thought that //. 2. 192 should be immediately followed by w. 203—205. He prefixed the D to 192, and dots (for in Ven. A. the C must be an error, see Ludwich i. p. 209) to 203 — 205. CH. III.] HOMER IN ANTIQUITY. 95 usages of words — recognising that criticism of the matter must be based on accurate knowledge of the language. Pre- vious grammarians had dealt chiefly with rare or archaic words (yA-ojo-o-at), Aristarchus aimed further at defining the Homeric sense of famiHar words — remarking (e.g.) that Homer always has wSe in the sense of ' thus ' (never as = 'here' or 'hither'); that Homer uses fSdXketv of missiles, but ovTaCeiv of wounding at close quarters ; . 614 b, and pro- perly confined to Od. bks. 9 — 12,) and to Od. 19. 386 ff. as iv Tots vtTTTpot?. Such descriptions sufficed for their pur- pose, — to recall a part of the poem to the memory; and, in most cases, coincide with the names of ' rhapsodies ' or cantos into which the poem was divided for recitation \ Some recognised division of this kind is implied in the ancient regulations for a consecutive recitation at festivals (p. 77); and the record of it was preserved, at least for a time, after the alphabetical division into books had been adopted at Alexandria. The title of one canto sometimes covered more than one of our books ; thus the AioiMyoovs dpi(TT€ia answered to book 5 and (part at least) of book 6. ]\Iore often, one book comprises more than one canto; as book 2 includes the 'Dream' and the 'Catalogue.' Crates 27. The great library founded at Pergamum in Mysia by and the Per- ^ Several ancient titles of rhapsodies are preserved by Aelian Var. gamene Hist. 13, 14. See Christ, Proleg., pp. i — 7. Distinguish, as of a bcnool. different class, phrases, invented for the occasion, by which short passages are sometimes indicated: as Thuc. i. 9 kv rod aKYjirrpov r^ irapadoaei ( = //. 2. 108 ff.): Arist. JltsL An. 9. 32 iv t-q tou Upia/Jiov e|65a) ( = //. 24. 3i6ff.): Strabo i. 17 Cv ry vpeo^elg. { = 11. 3. 222f.): Paus. i. 18. 2 iv"'Epas UpKcp =(//. 15. 36 f.). CH. III.] HOMER IN ANTIQUITY. 99 Eumenes II., early in the second century B.C., soon became a rival to the older institution at Alexandria; and a like rivalry developed itself between their schools of Homeric interpretation. Crates, a native of Mallus in Cilicia, who was librarian of Pergamum in the time of Aristarchus, published Homeric commentaries \ The broad differences between the two schools turned mainly on two points. (i) The Alexandrian school, represented by Aristarchus, was essentially a school of accurate grammatical scholarship. In particular, the Alexandrians aimed at laying down strict rules of declension and conjugation. Now, Crates was far from denying the existence of ascertainable laws in language : like other Stoics, he gave much attention to correct idiom (EX\r)Vi(TiJL6. Gaisford Poet. Min. Gr. iii. scholia, p. 6, quoted by Geddes {Problejii of the Homeric Poems p. 7), who adds Eustathius 4, ws 5^ koI ttoWoI "OfirjpoL. Proclus was arguing that Hesiod's competitor in the traditional ' contest ' was not the Homer, but a Phocian Homer of later date. * Cp. Volkmann, Geschichte unci Kritik der IVolfschen Prolegomena zu Homer, c. i. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. I05 discussion of the Homeric question, in a critical sense, began with Wolf's Prolegomena (1795). 3. Before Wolf, we meet, indeed, with expressions of Surmises opinion by other scholars which might be regarded as ^^°ij^ partly anticipating his view. But these, in so far as they were not mere conjecture, were based on the ancient tradition that the poems of Homer had been scattered until Peisistratus caused them to be collected. A famous passage in Josephus {circ, 90 a.d.) was also suggestive. *The present use of alphabetical writing,' Josephus says, * cannot have been known to the Greeks of the Trojan war. The Greeks have no literature older than Homer; and Homer lived after the war. And they say (<^ao-tV) that even Homer did not leave his poetry i?i writings but that it was transmitted by memory (SLaixvrjixovevofMivrjv), and after- wards put together from the separate songs {Ik twj/ dariJidTwv voTTepov (TvvTiOrjvai) : hence the nu??iber of discrepancies which it presents'^. Here, Josephus does not merely reproduce the tradition of a collection by Peisistratus : he states that, in the received belief of the Greeks, Homer did not use writing ; that the poems had been transmitted only by memory ; and that this fact accounted for their inconsistencies. 4. It was by such hints that the moderns before Wolf were guided. Isaac Casaubon (1559-1614), referring in a note on Diogenes Laertius (9. 12) to the passage just quoted from Josephus, remarked that we could scarcely hope for a sound text of Homer, no matter how old our MSS. might be. The Dutch scholar Jacob Perizonius in his Animad- versiones Historicae (1684) accepted the account given by Josephus, and brought it into connection with other ancient notices. Bentley, in his ' Remarks ' on the ' Discourse of Free- Thinking' by Anthony Collins (17 13), supposes that a poet ^ Josephus /card 'Att^wi'os I. 2 p. 175 (Bekk.). He is maintaining that no argument against the antiquity of the Jews can be drawn from the silence of Greek writers. Io6 HOMER. [CH. IV. named Homer lived about 1050 B.C., and 'wrote' both the Iliad and the Odyssey. Each consisted of several short lays, which Homer recited separately. These lays cir- culated merely as detached pieces, until they were collected in the time of Peisistratus {circ. 550 B.C.), into our two epics \ Vico. 5. Giambattista Vico, of Naples (born 1668), touched on the origin of the Homeric poems in some notes (1722) with which he supplemented his treatise on 'Universal Law'. Here his point was much the same as Bentley's in answer to Collins, — viz., that the Homeric poetry is not a conscious effort of profound philosophy, but the mirror of a simple age. In the second edition of his Scienza Nuova (1730) 1 he went further. He there maintains that ' Homer ' is a collective name for the work of many successive poets. These, in the course of many generations, gradually produced the poems which the Peisistratidae first collected into our Iliad and Odyssey. But, said Vico, though there were many Homers, we may say that there were pre- eminently tivo — the Homer of the Iliad^ who belonged to North-east Greece {i.e. Thessaly), and the Homer of the Odyssey, who came later, and belonged to South-west Greece {i.e. the Western Peloponnesus and adjacent islands). Vico did not bring critical proofs of his proposi- tions. He had no influence on Wolf or the Wolfians. Yet his theory must at least be regarded as a remarkable example of divining instinct". ^ Cp. 'Bentley,' in 'English Men of Letters,' pp. 146 ff. Collins had maintained that the Iliad was 'the epitome of all arts and sciences,' and that Homer 'designed his poem for eternity, to please and instruct mankind.' Bentley replies, 'Take my word for it, poor Homer, in those circumstances and early times, had never such aspiring thoughts. He wrote a sequel of sojigs and rhapsodies, to be sung by himself for small earnings and good cheer, at festivals and other days of merriment; the Bias he made for the men, and the Odysseis for the other sex'. The phrase, '« sequel,^ is ambiguous: as he goes on to sa\', ' These loose songs were not collected together in the form of an epic poem till Pisistratus' time, above 500 years after,' he perhaps did not mean, 'a connected sexit?,.'' 2 Professor Flint, in a monograph on Vico (1884), pp. 173 — 178, gives CH. IV.J THE HOMERIC QUESTION. IO7 But the work which had most effect, before the ap- Robert pearance of the Prolegomena^ was undoubtedly Robert Wood. AVood's ^ Essay on the Ongi?ial Genius of Hojner' {i']6())\ In one chapter he discussed the question whether the art of writing was known to Homer, and answered it in the negative. This view had never before been enforced by critical argument. F. A. Wolf (born in 1759) read Wood's essay in his student-days at Gottingen, and refers to it with some praise in the Frolegofnena^. Wood's doctrine about writing became, in fact, the very keystone of Wolf's theory. 6. Wolfs 'Prolegomena' — a small octavo volume of Wolf's 280 pages — appeared at Halle in 1795, with a dedication to ^^^^^' David Ruhnken, as 'chief of critics'^ After some general a full and clear account of his Homeric theory. Without going so far as to hold that Vico's 'discovery of the true Homer' (as he himself called it) was *a complete anticipation of the so-called Wolfian theory' (p. 176), I agree in thinking that adequate justice has scarcely been done to Vico. Wolf, some time after he had published the Prolegomena, had his attention drawn to Vico by Melchior Cesarotti (translator of Homer and Ossian). The review of Vico which he wrote in the Mtcseum der Alterthumswissenschaft I. 1807, pp. 555 ff., is contained in his Kleine Schriften ii. pp. 157 ff. 1 Heyne, who was then by general consent the foremost 'humanist' of Germany, reviewed Wood's Essay in enthusiastic terms (1770): ' We have to this day seen no one who has penetrated so deeply into Homer's spirit.' The first German translation appeared in 1773, the second (revised) in 1778, — both by Prof. Michaelis of Gottingen, where F. A. Wolf finished his studies in 1779. V^oli {Proleg. xii) quotes the 2nd English edit, of 1775. 2 c. xii., where, speaking of Wood's * celebratissimus liber,' he remarks (in a foot-note), * plura sunt scite et egregie animadversa, nisi quod subtilitas fere deest, sine qua historica disputatio persuadet, non fidem facit. ^ The volume of 'Prolegomena' is called 'I.', and we read 'Pars Prima' at p. xxiv : but the second part, which was to have dealt with the principles of Homeric textual criticism, was never published. It was not Wolfs first contribution to Homeric studies, though he was only 36 when it appeared. In an essay addressed to Heyne (1779) he had indicated his views as to the age of writing in Greece, which can be traced also in his introductions to the Iliad and Odyssey, published in 1784. This was before the publication of the Codex Venetus by Io8 HOMER. [CH. IV. remarks on the critical office in regard to Homer's text, Wolf proceeds to discuss the history of the poems from about 950 B. c. — which he takes as the epoch of matured Ionian poetry — down to the time of Peisistratus (about 550 b. c). The four main points which he seeks to prove are the following, (i) The Homeric poems were composed without the aid of writing, which in 950 B.C. was either wholly unknown to the Greeks, or not yet employed by them for literary purposes \ The poems were handed down by oral recitation, and in the course of that process suf- fered many alterations, deliberate or accidental, by the rhapsodes. (2) After the poems had been written down €irc. 550 B. c, they suffered still further changes. These were deliberately made by 'revisers' (8tao-/ rb irplv aeidS/xevov. It is most unlikely that such a statue existed (after 510 B.C., at least), and the inscription is probably a late rhetorical figment — possibly the prime source of the story which first appears in Cicero. A scholium on Plautus, found after Wolf's time and edited by Ritschl {die Alexandr. Bibliothek p. 4) gives the story in a somewhat more circumstantial form : Pisistratus sparsatn prius Homeri poesim . . .sollerti cura in ea quae nunc ejcstant redegit volumina, usus ad hoc opus divinum industria quattuor celeberrimorum et eruditissimorufu CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. II 5 which has older authority, it was Lycurgus who, about 776 B. c, first brought to Greece Proper a complete copy of the Homeric poems, previously known there only by scattered fragments \ Even if the story about Peisistratus is accepted, it does not disprove the original unity of the poemS. When, for ages, rhapsodies had been recited singly, doubts might have arisen as to their proper sequence and their several relations to the plan of the great epic' It would satisfy the vague shape in which the story has reached us, if we regarded Peisistratus, not as creating a new unity, but as" seeking to preserve an old unity which had been obscured ^ hommuni, videlicet Concyli (?), Onomacriti Atheniensis, Zopyri Hera- deotae, et Orphei Crotoniatae. This was taken from a comment by Tzetzes (12th cent.), first published by Keil: 'O/xrjpeiovs 6^ /St'/SAofs... avvT^deLKav TrEEN, etc., was Ionic for EI. Similarly he suspects that ^v^ should be ^ev, from EEN. Gr^ek Verb ii. in (p. 348 Eng. tr.). 2 As a fact limiting the possible range of such errors, it should be noted that in the Ionic alphabet E represented et only when the latter was 'spurious,' i.e. came from e + e, or e + a compensatory lengthening (as in ENAI for elvai). 'Genuine' «, from e-j-i, was written EI (except sometimes before vowels). Hence [e.g.) ieiaaro would have been written EEISATO, not EESATO. So represented ou only when due to + 0, or + compensatory lengthening: not when due to + V. Cp. Meisterhans, Gra}7wiatik der Attischen Inschriften p. II (18S5). * Fick {Ilias, p. XXXiii, 1885) quotes Ritschlas expressing a similar view so long ago as 1834. Ritschl's view, however, — as the quotation shows, — was essentially different. He thought that Homer went over from Greece with the Aeolian emigrants, and composed short Aeolic lays at Smyrna. Then a series of Ionian poets enlarged and lonicised them. But this process was complete before 776 B.C. 144 HOMER. [CH. IV. additions were made to both epics. Fick dwells on the fact that in the undoubtedly old parts of Homer we find Aeolic forms which could not have been metrically replaced by the corresponding Ionic forms, and which were therefore retained by the Ionic translator. Conversely, in the later parts, which were Ionic from the first, we find forms which metrically resist Aeolicising. His theory suggests the following remarks. Estimate 43- (i) The first question which has to be decided is, of it. 'What is Aeolic, or Ionic?' In regard to alleged 'Aeo- lisms' in Homer, Fick has to prove, not only that they were Aeolic, but also that they were not old Ionic. We have no sufficient evidence as to the state of the Greek dialects circ. 900 — 600 B.C. The Aeolic inscriptions are all later than the fifth century b. c. The Ionic evidence, though less scanty, is not less inadequate for this purpose. It was the habit of the ancient grammarians to set down any Homeric archaism as an 'Aeolism,' if it happened to exist in AeoHc also, and sometimes even when it did not. The digamma itself was long called ' Aeolic,' and regarded as peculiarly belonging to that dialect, — an error, as we now know. Hinrichs^ has greatly reduced the number of Aeolisms in Homer. Further scrutiny may perhaps reduce it still more^ * De Homeric ae elocutionis vestigiis Aeolicis (Jena, 1875), 2 In the Philologus (XLiii. i. i — 31) Karl Sittl has examined the residuum of Homeric 'Aeolisms' left by Hinrichs. His results are epitomized by M. W. Humphreys in Ainer. Journ. Phil. v. 521. Thus : (i) He eliminates from the 'Aeolisms ' those which do not even occur in Aeolic. E.g., the 'Aeolic * v (for 0) has been unduly extended. It occurred only in the Aeolic 1/1 = 01 of the locative (also Doric). (2) Fick assumes an Aeolic veiKoat as parent of the Homeric ieiKOffi. When / preceded by a consonant began a word, all Greeks sometimes prefixed e (as if we had idfelKoa-L). But, fdKoai, having lost its initial 5, was no longer entitled to an initial e. The Homeric ifelKoai, was a false formation on the analogy of words which had noi lost the con- sonant before /l The Aeolians never vocalised initial f. The apparent examples are all aspirated, and not Aeolic. (3) As to long d, the non-Ionic uses of it in Homer are almost confined to proper names CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 145 44. (2) Fick's view implies that the Ionic version, made about 530 — 500 B. c, at once and for ever superseded in general favour the original Aeolic Homer, though the latter had been familiar throughout Hellas for generations. This is incomprehensible. And, supposing that this happened, can we further suppose that ancient literature would have preserved no reference to the fact of the transcription which, at a blow, had robbed the Aeolian race of its most glorious inheritance, — one which, for so long a period, all Greeks had publicly recognised as belonging to it? There were flourishing Aeolian states then, and Aeolian writers. To take a rough parallel, suppose that at the present day an Englishman should clothe the poems of Robert Burns in an English dress : would the transcription be likely to super- sede the Scottish original as the standard form of the poems throughout the English-speaking world? Yet this is what Fick supposes the Ionic Cynaethus to have accomplished in the case of the Aeolic Homer. ^ The unexampled success of Cynaethus becomes still more astounding when we observe how limited his poetical skill is assumed to have been. He left a great many Aeolisms in his Homer. Why ? Because their direct Ionic equivalents would not scan. But the fact is that the Pindaric scholium is an utterly taken from old lays. Many seeming examples can be explained : thus (IpLCTov {II. 24. 124) should be dfipia-rov (like af^Kovre) : SaXds {//. 13. 320) should be dafeXos. (4) Pronouns, tol, reiv, rvv-q, reos, afx/xos, are admittedly archaisms. This may be true also of the 'Aeolic' d'/x/xes, v/x/xes (etc.), if once written a/xfih (or a/jL/xh), ufx/xh {=jvafxh), whence, by suppression and compensation vfiis, v/xh, and by analogy 7]p,^es (77/ieij), vfx^es (J/tets). These are only specimens of Sittl's analysis. It may be added that Hinrichs was not slow to make a vigorous reply. 1 Prof. Fick appeals to instances of inscriptions, or other short pieces, presumably composed in a dialect different from that in which they have come down to us. For example, he thinks that the couplet of Simonides on the Peloponnesians slain at Thermopylae (Her. 7. 228) was originally in the Laconian dialect, thus: fxvpiacnv ttoko. TTJde TpiaKariaLs i/xdxovTo \ e/c IleXoirovvdao} X??Xta5es r^Topes. Between such cases, and the lonicising of Homer by Cynaethus, the difference, he says, is only 'one of degree' {Ilias p. ix). But surely it is also a difference of kind. I. 10 146 HOMER. [CH. IV. insufficient basis on which to build the hypothesis about Cynaethus. And it would be easy to show that Homer had been known in Ionic from an earlier date. Simonides of Ceos was born 556 B.C., and was therefore already of mature age at the time when the supposed 'Ionic redaction' was made. The Homer known to his boyhood and youth must then, according to Fick, have been Aeolic. But he quotes //. 6. 148 (one of the certainly older parts of the epic), in Ionic, as by 'the man of Chios,' meaning Homer ; whom he therefore regarded as an Ionian poet. It will hardly be maintained that by 'the man of Chios' he meant his con- temporary Cynaethus ^ 45. (3) The pre-Homeric epic lays were doubtless Achaean. Those Homeric forms which can be proved to have existed in post-Homeric Aeolic admit of two different explan- ations, which do not, however, necessarily exclude each other. One of them may apply to some instances, and the other to others, (i) These forms, or some of them, may have belonged also to an older Ionic. Those who deny this have to prove the negative, (ii) If originally peculiar to Achaean (or old Aeolic), such forms may have been adopted by old Ionian poetry because they were asso- ciated, through Achaean lays, with epic composition. Fick's theory of the late and wholesale transcription is altogether incredible^. But, whether the original Homeric dialect was Achaean or old Ionic, it may be granted that it had undergone modifying influences at the hands of Ionian poets and rhapsodes, tending to bring it somewhat nearer to the later Ionic, and so increasing that appearance of a 'mixed dialect ' which it now presents. A modernising process, in ^ If the Simonides is he of Amorgos (p. 88 n. 2), we are taken back to 660 B.C. * Apart from that hypothesis, however, he has done good service m promoting a closer study of the Homeric dialect. The question as to how far the AeoHc in which he has clothed the epic is, or is not, possible Aeohc, matters little : his version is given mainly for the purpose of illustration. His Aeolic Odyssey has been reviewed by Christ in the Philol. Anzeiger (xiv. 90 — 98), by Cauer in the Zeitschr. f. d. osterr. Gymnas. (x. 290 — 311), and by Hinrichs in the Deutsch. Litteratw- zeitung (1885 pp. 6 — 9), who are all opposed to the theory. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. I47 this limited sense, was entirely compatible with the pre- servation, in all main features, of its essentially ancient character. 46. The evidence of Homeric language has thus been found to agree with the evidence furnished by the subject- matter of the poems. Their claim to a high antiquity is con- firmed. In connection with their age, there is a further ques- The tale tion which must now be briefly noticed. We saw that, as a °^ ^^r^' , . ,..,.. now far general picture of an early civihsation, the Homeric poetry histori- has the value of history. But how much of historical fact ^^^' can be supposed to reside in the story of the Trojan War? The tale of Troy, as we have it in Homer, is essentially a poetic creation ; and the poet is the sole witness. The Analogy romance of Charlemagne embodies the historical fact romance that an Emperor once ruled Western Europe from the Eider to the Ebro. It also departs from history in send- ing Charlemagne on a crusade to Jerusalem, because, when the romance arose, a crusade belonged to the ideal of chivalry. Analogy might suggest that an Achaean prince Limit of had once really held a position like that of Agamemnon ; fg^g^ce also, that some Achaean expedition to the Troad had occurred, whether this Achaean prince had himself borne part in it or not. Both inferences are probable on other grounds. Some memorable capture of a town in the Troad had probably been made by Greek warriors ; beyond this we cannot safely go. It is fantastic to treat the siege of Troy as merely a solar myth, — to explain the abduction of Helen by Paris as the extinction of the sunlight in the West, and Troy as the region of the dawn beset and possessed by the sunrise. It is equally fantastic, and more illogical, to follow the ' rationalising ' method — to deduct the supernatural element, and claim the whole residuum as historical fact. Homer says that Achilles slew Hector with the aid of Athene. We are not entitled to omit Athene, and still to affirm that Achilles slew Hector \ ^ See the article in the Edinburgh Review on Schliemann's Iliosy No. cccxiv., pp. 517 ff. (1881). Freeman's essay on 'The Mythical and 10 2 148 HOMER. [CH. IV. 47. After the recent excavations in the Troad, an im- pression appeared to exist in some minds that the Homeric narrative of the Trojan War had been proved historical, because remains had been found which (it was alleged) might be those of Troy. It is well, then, briefly to state the relation between the evidence of the Homeric text and the evidence of those excavations. Site of The Iliad shows a personal acquaintance with the plain Homeric q|- Troy, and with the dominant features of the surrounding landscaped In the site of Troy, as described by Homer, the capital feature is the acropolis, — 'lofty', 'windy', 'beetling', — with those precipitous crags over which it was proposed to hurl the wooden horsed This suits one site Bunar- ^"^y ill the Trojan plain, — that above the village of bashi. Bunarbashi, on the lower slopes of the hills which fringe the plain to the south. Plere the hill called the Bali Dagh rises some 400 feet above the plain, with sheer sides descending on S. and S.W. to the valley of the Mendere (Scamander). A Uttle N.W. of Homeric Troy two natural springs rose. A little N.W. of Bunarbashi these springs still exist, and no others like them exist anywhere else in the plain. As Prof. Ernst Curtius well says, — 'This pair Romantic Elements in Early English History ' is a lucid and excellent statement of the critical principles applicable to such cases. 1 Cp. 'A Tour in the Troad' {Forinightly Review, April, 1883, p. 5r4f.). Perhaps the thing which most surprises a reader of Homer is the absence of high mountains from the neighbourhood of the Trojan plain. Ida (5700 feet) is only a pale blue form on the S.E. horizon, some 30 miles away. The island peak of Samothrace {5,200 feet, 45 miles off to the N.W.) — Poseidon's watching-place, as Ida is that of Zeus — is a more impressive feature of the view. In the plain can Still be found 'wheat-bearing' tracts (//. 21. 602), — the 'reedy marsh' {Od. 14. 474) — 'elms, willows and tamarisks' (//. 21. 350); the cry of the heron {//. 10. 274) may still be heard; an eagle 'of dark plumage' (//. 24. 316) may still be seen there, — or cranes, leaving the Troad for northern climes, 'when they have escaped the winter' (//. 3. 4). 2 Od. 8. 508, 17 Kara, irerpawv ^akieiv ipjjaavras iir a.Kp'ns. In Troy, p. 18, Dr Schliemann 'most positively' asserted that Troy had na acropolis. The springs CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 149 of rivulets is the immutable mark of nature, by which the height towering above is recognised as the citadel of Ilium \' Though the site at Bunarbashi has not yet been thoroughly explored ^ pottery has been found there which is referred to 1000 — 900 B.c.^ Since Le Chevalier's visit in 1785, the striking features of agreement between Bunarbashi and the Homeric picture of Troy — features unique in the Trojan plain — have been emphatically recognised by a series of the most competent observers, including Leake, Moltke, Forchhammer, Kiepert, Ernst Curtius, and Tozer*. Leake remarked that any person at all accustomed to observe the sites of ancient Greek towns must fix on Bunarbashi 'for the site of the chief place of the surrounding country.' The same opinion was expressed to Prof. E. Curtius by Count Moltke, — that 'he knew no other site in the Trojan plain for a chief town of ancient time.' 48. The low mound of Hissarlik stands in the open His- plain, about three miles from the Hellespont. It measures ^^^ some 325 yards by 235, and stands only some 112 feet above the plain. This mound marks the site of a historical Greek town, to which the first settlers gave the name of 'Ilium' (perhaps about 700 B.C.), and which existed here down to Roman times. In the mound have been discovered (i) remains of this Greek town, (2) some prehistoric remains. Dr Schliemann asserts that the prehistoric remains are those of Homeric Troy. If this means that they represent a prehistoric town w/iic/i gave rise to the legend of Troy, the assertion is one which can no longer be either proved or disproved. No objects found at Hissarlik tend in the slightest degree to prove it. On the other hand, one important fact is certain. The low site at Hissarlik is in the strongest con- 1 History of Greece, vol. i. ch. iii. p. 79 (transl. Ward). 2 'Eine genaue Untersuchung hat noch nicht stattgefunden, so viel ich weiss' (Prof. E. Curtius, in a letter of Feb. 9, 1884). 3 This is admitted by Dr Schliemann; Troja, p. 16S. ^ See their testimonies in my article, 'Homeric Tioy,' Forifzightly Review, April, 1884, p. 447. 150 HOMER. [CH. IV. trast with the site of spacious and 'lofty' Troy as described by Homer, while the site at Bunarbashi is as strikingly in harmony with that description. The solitary phrase in the I/i'ad which favours Hissarlik, — //. 20. 216 f, where Ilios is *in the plain,' — belongs to a passage which, as Dr Christ has proved, is not only later than the bulk of the Iliad, but is one of the latest additions of all, — having been added by some dweller in the Troad, desirous of glorifying the Aeneadae, after the Greek Ilium had been built in the plain*. The Homeric hymn to Aphrodite, which also celebrates the Aeneadae, is probably of the same age (the seventh century B.C.), and from a kindred source. The Greek settlers at Hissarlik naturally affirmed that their ' Ilium ' stood on the site of Troy ; in proof of it, they showed the stone on which Palamedes had played draughts. Their paradox, a mere birth of local vanity, was as decisively rejected by sound criticism in ancient as in modern tiniest Origin 4^. The Homeric poet who created the Troy of the Homeric //-^'^^ probably knew — personally, or by description — a strong picture town at Bunarbashi as the ruling city of the surrounding of Troy. district. The legend of a siege, on which the I/iad is founded, may, or may not, have arisen from the actual siege of an older town at Hissarlik, which, in the poet's day, had already perished. He would easily be led to place the Troy of his poem in a position like that of the existing city on the Bali Dagh. He would give it a 'lofty' and 'beetling' acropolis. He would endow it with handsome ^ //. 20. 216 Kxiaae Be AapSavirjv, eirel oviro} "IXtos t/317 | iv ireoiw ire- ir6\ibvoio. This is mentioned in the Victorian scholia on the Iliad {y>. ioi, n. i). Cp. Welcker, Epic Cycle, il. 170. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 1 55 appear, then, that the Iliad must have existed, in something like its present compass, as early as 800 B.C.; indeed, a con- siderably earlier date will seem probable, if due time is allowed for the poem to have grown into such fame as would incite the effort to continue it. As compared with the Iliad and Odyssey^ the Cyclic epics show the stamp of a later age {a) in certain ideas, — as hero-worship, purifying rituals, etc. : {b) in a larger circle of geographical knowledge, and a wider range of mythical material. The external evidence of the Epic Cycle thus confirms the twofold internal evidence of Homeric matter and Homeric language. The bulk of the Homeric poems must be older than 800 b. c, although some particular additions to them are later. 53. We may now collect the results of the preceding General inquiry, and consider how far they warrant any definite con- ^"g^f^g ° elusions respecting the origin of the Homeric poems. The Iliad must be taken separately from the Odyssey. At the outset, the ground may be partly cleared by Views setting aside two extreme views, which few persons, ^^^'^Ug acquainted with the results of recent criticism, would now rejected, maintain. t5ne of these is the theory with which Lachmann's name is especially associated, — that the Iliad has been pieced together out of short lays which were not originally connected by any common design (§ 14). The other is the theory which was generally prevalent down to Wolf's time, — that the Iliad is the work of one poet. Homer, as the Aeneid is the work of Virgil. In England, if nowhere else, this view is still cherished, though more often, perhaps, as a sentiment than as an opinion. Most EngHshmen have been accustomed to read the Iliad with delight in the spirit of the whole, rather than with attention to the characteristics of different parts. This, too, is the way in which modern poets have usually read Homer ; and as, consequently, the poets have mostly believed in Homeric unity, an impression has gained ground, especially in England, that throughout 156 HOMER. [CH. IV. the Homeric poems there exists a personal unity of genius, which men of poetical genius can feel, and which is infinitely more significant than those discrepancies of detail with which critics occupy themselves. This popular im- pression has been strengthened by a special cause. Decep- 54. The traditional style of Ionian epos — developed in unftyof ^^^ course of generations — gives a general uniformity of the epic effect which is delusive. The old Ionic, with its wealth of ^ ^ ^' liquid sounds, with its union of softness and strength, was naturally fitted to render the epic hexameter musical, rapid, and majestic ■ Epic usage had gradually shaped a large number of phrases and formulas which constantly recur in like situations, without close regard to circumstances which distinguish one occasion from another^ An Ionian poet who wished to insert an episode in the Iliad had this ■epic language at command. Even if his natural gifts were somewhat inferior to those of the poet whose work he was ^ enlarging, the style would go far to veil the inequality. Mr Matthew Arnold says : — ' The insurmountable obstacle to believing the Iliad a consolidated work of several poets is this — that the work of great masters is unique ; and the Iliad has a great master's genuine stamp, and that stamp is the grand style.'' Now, * the grand style ' spoken of here, in so far as it can be claimed for the whole epic, is simply the Ionian style of heroic epos. If we look closer, we see that the manner of the tenth book, for instance, is unlike that of the rest \ the twenty-fourth book, and some other books or passages, have traits of style which are their own; the * Catalogue' is distinct in style from its setting. Suppose that the poems of the Epic Cycle had been extant as one work under Homer's name, with no record of their several authors. The 'grand style' could doubtless have been claimed for that work ; not, perhaps, in an equal degree with the Iliad, but still in a sense which could have furnished an argument like the above for unity of authorship. On the other hand, * According to Carl Eduard Schmidt, the sura of the repeated verses in the two epics amounts to sixteen thousand. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 157 this traditional epic style imposes a special caution on all precise theories of composite authorship. It makes it harder to say exactly where one hand ceases and another begins. 55. Yet the defenders of Homeric unity may find com- Conser- fort in the thought that, if the old form of their faith has be- ^^'^'^V' come untenable, much of its essence has been preserved of recent and reinvigorated. In the doctrine of Wolf himself, as we s^^^i^^- have seen, the analytic element was tempered by a strongly conservative element ; he conceded to Homer ' the greater part of the songs,' and an influence which guided the composition of the rest. The analytic element in his theory was that which arrested attention, because, when it was published, it was sharply contrasted with the old belief in one Homer ; and hence his work has often been associated with a purely destructive tendency which was quite foreign to its spirit. The great result of recent criticism has been to develope the conservative element in Wolf's doctrine; not, however, exactly in Hermann's way, but by adjusting it to the more correct point of view taken by Nitzsch, — that the original Iliad was already an epic poem, and not merely the lay of a primitive bard. 56. Everything tends to show that the Iliad was planned by one great poet, who also executed the most essential parts of it. By the ' primary ' Iliad we shall here denote the The first form which the poet probably gave to his work, as E"^^^' distinguished from the enlarged form afterwards given to it, partly (perhaps) by himself, partly by others. There is no doubt that the first book of the exist- ing Iliad formed the beginning of the primary Iliad. The probable compass of the primary poem may best be judged by the nature of the theme from which it sets out, — a quarrel between Achilles and Agamemnon. Such a feud between two prominent heroes is found elsewhere as a popular viotif oi epic song. The minstrel Demodocus {Od. 8. 75) sang 'a lay whereof the fame had then reached the wide heaven ; namely the quarrel between Odysseus and Achilles, son of Peleus, how once on a time they contended 158 HOMER. [CH. IV. in fierce words at a rich festival of the gods ; but Agamem- non, king of men, was inly glad, when the noblest of the Achaeans fell at variance.' Such a subject would give scope for brilliant speeches, exhibiting the general character- Special istics of the disputants. The poet who planned the Iliad^ advan- — whether he had, or had not, poetical precedent for taking of the a quarrel between heroes as his subject, — was presumably subject, original in his perception of the peculiar advantage which belonged to his choice of persons. A grievance against a subordinate chief would not have warranted Achilles in withdrawing his aid from the whole Greek army. But Agamemnon, as supreme leader, represented the Greek army : when wronged by Agamemnon, Achilles had excuse for making the quarrel a public one. And the retirement of the most brilliant Greek hero, Achilles, left the Greeks at a disadvantage, thus creating an opportunity for the efforts of minor Greek heroes, and also for the pictures of a doubtful warfare. The 57. Unless, then, we are prepared to assume that the waTan P°^^ ^^° ^^^g ^^^ wrath of Achilles' was insensible to the 'Iliad' special capabilities of his theme, we can scarcely refuse to first. believe that his epic was more than an 'Achilleid,' cele- brating a merely personal episode. It must have been, from the first, an ' Iliad,' including some general descrip- tion of that struggle between Greeks and Trojans in which a new crisis was occasioned by the temporary withdrawal of Achilles. Precisely the distinction of the poet's invention (I conceive) was the choice of a moment which could combine the personal interest of a feud between two heroes with the variety and splendour of large battle-scenes. £ts And the plot of this primary Iliad, as foreshadowed in compass, the first book, must have comprised the following series of events. Agamemnon wrongs Achilles, who retires from the war. Zeus promises Thetis that he will avenge her son by causing the Greeks to be discomfited. The tide of fortune presently turns in favour of the Trojans; the Greeks are hard pressed, and, in attempting to succour them, Patroclus CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 159 is slain. The death of his friend rouses Achilles; he is reconciled to Agamemnon, and, after doing great deeds against the Trojans, slays their foremost champion, Hector. These events are contained in books i, 11, and 16 to 22 inclusive, which probably represent the substance of the primary Iliad, — allowance being made for later interpola- tions, large or small, in books 16 — 22. In this primary Iliad, the turning-point is book 11, which relates the discomfiture of the Greeks, in accordance with the promise of Zeus. 58. We may now ask how this primary Iliad would Enlarge- have been viewed by a poet — whether the first, or another — ^^^ °^ who desired to enlarge it without materially altering the plot, primary Two places in it would naturally recommend themselves, in ^^ * preference to others, for the insertion of new matter ; viz., the place between books i and 11, and that between books II and 16. But it is also evident that, of these two places, the former would be a poet's first choice. The purpose of Zeus to humiliate the Greeks might well be represented as effecting itself only gradually, and by a process consistent with vicissitudes of fortune. Thus there was no poetical necessity that book i should be closely followed by book II. The general contents of books 2 to 7 inclusive agree Books with the supposition that this group represents the earliest ^ ° 7- series of additions made (not all at one time or by one hand) to the primary Iliad. From book 2 we except the 'Catalogue,' which was a much later interpolation. The older part of book 2 contains the deceptive dream sent by Zeus, which fills Agamemnon with hopes of victory, and beguiles him into preparing for battle ; the Council of the chiefs ; and the Assembly of the army. Books 3 and 4 are closely connected, the main subjects being the truce between Greeks and Trojans, and the single combat of Menelaus and Paris, which has no decisive issue, Paris being saved by Aphrodite. Books 5 and 6, again, hang together, the prowess of Diomede being the central theme. l6o HOMER. [CH. IV In book 7 we have a second duel, — this time between Ajax and Hector, — which, like the former, is indecisive, — the combatants making gifts to each other at the end of it. Then the Greeks bury their dead, and build the wall at their camp. The general characteristic of these six books (2 — 7) is that we have a series of detached episodes, while 'the pur- pose of Zeus,' announced in book i, remains in suspense. Books 59. Different and more difficult conditions had to be '^ *° '5* satisfied by any new work which should be inserted in the other manifestly available place, — viz., between book 11 and book 16. Zeus having utterly discomfited the Greeks in book II, poetical fitness set a Hmit to the interval which could be allowed to elapse before Patroclus, the precursor of Achilles, should come to the rescue in book 16. And as the end of book 1 1 already forms a climax — the distress of the Greeks being extreme — in adding anything between that point and book 16 it was necessary to avoid an anti-climax. These requirements are fulfilled by the Battle at the Camp, told in books 12, 13, 14 and 15. It is the last desperate defence of the Greeks. The Trojans are rushing on to burn the ships. Ajax can barely keep the foes at bay. Then, at the supreme crisis, Patroclus arrives, in the armour of Achilles. These four books (12 — 15), apart from some interpo- lations, possess all the intrinsic qualities of great poetry. The best proof of it is that, though the struggle is thus drawn out, our interest in it does not flag. When, however, the Iliad is read continuously, it is difficult to resist the belief that book 1 1 was originally designed to be followed more closely by book 16. Books 12 to 15, thus read, impress the mind rather as a skilful and brilliant ex- pansion. 60. Our primary Iliad^ consisting of books i, 11, and 16 to 22, has now been enlarged by the accession of these two groups; books 2 — 7 before book 11, and books 12 — 15 after it. The original plot preserves its simplicity. The CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. l6l only difference is that the purpose of Zeus is now delayed, and the agony of the Greeks is prolonged. Let us next suppose that a poet, conscious especially of Books rhetorical gifts, found the Iliad in this enlarged form. If ^ ^"^ ^^ he wished to insert some large piece of his own work, how could he best proceed, without injury to the epic frame- work? The part between books ii and i6 would no longer tolerate any considerable amplification. If, again, the series of episodes between books i and ii should be merely extended, the effect would be tedious, and the delay in 'the purpose of Zeus' would appear excessive. But another resource remained. Without fundamentally changing the plot, it was possible to duplicate it. The Greeks might be twice discomfited. After the first reverse, they might sue for help to Achilles — and be rejected ;— an episode full of splendid opportunities for poetical eloquence and pathos. If such an episode were to be added, the right place for it evidently was immediately before the original (now to be the second) discomfiture of the Greeks in book 1 1. The poet who conceived this idea added books 8 and 9 to the Iliad. Book 10 did not yet exist. 61. Books 23 and 24 form a sequel. They are con- Books cerned with a subject always of extreme interest to Greek ^3 anoi hearers — as, at a later period, the Attic dramatists so often remind us — the rendering of due burial rites to the chief hero slain on either side, Patroclus and Hector. The episode of the funeral games in book 23 (from v. 257 to the end) was certainly a separate addition, and is probably much later than the preceding part of that book, which relates the burial of Patroclus. The case of books 23 and 24 differs in one material respect from that of the other books which we have been considering in the light of additions to the primary Iliad. If books 23 and 24 are viewed simply in relation to the plot, there is no reason why they should not have belonged to the primary Iliad itself It is the internal evidence of language and style which makes this improbable. Book 24 is in many ways so t62 homer. [ch. IV- fine, and forms so fitting a conclusion to the Iliad, that Dr Christ would ascribe it either to the first poet himself, or to a successor executing his design. A hint of that design may (it is suggested) be found in book 23, where the gods protect the corpse of Hector from disfigurement (184 — 191). On this view, books 23 and 24 would at least be decidedly older than book 9. These three books, however, have several traits in common with each other, and with the Odyssey, which distinguish them from the undoubtedly older parts of the Relation Iliad. And I am disposed to think that book 24, at least, ^ ^°° was mainly composed by the author of book 9. This view book 9. is confirmed by a comparison of the speeches in the two books, especially in regard to a particular trait — the rhetorical enumeration of names of places in passages marked by strong feeling \ A certain emotional character, more easily felt than defined, pervades both books ; and in both the conception of Achilles has distinctive features. The love of contrast as a source of effect, which can be traced in book 9, is equally present in book 24, where the helpless old king supplicates the young warrior. And book 24 is itself a brilliant antithesis to book 9. The great rhetorical poet who had shown Achilles inexorable to the Achaean chiefs may have wished to paint a companion picture, and to show him relenting at the prayer of the aged Priam ^ Book 10. 62. All those parts of the Iliad which have thus far been considered must be older than circ. 850 — 800 B.C. Book 10 remains. As we have already seen (§ 18), it has a stamp of its own, which clearly marks it as a later work, ^ E.g., with 9. 149 ff. and 381 f. I would compare 24. 544 ff. 2 Space precludes me from here developing in detail the resem- blances between the two books. But I may refer to the five verses which describe Achilles in his tent, as he is found by the Greek envoys, (9. 186 — 191). Compare these with the five verses which describe him in his tent as he is found by Priam (24. 471 — 476). While neither passage imitates the other, the same mind can be felt in both. CH. IV. J THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 1 63 referable, perhaps, to circ. 750—600 B.C. A similar age The may be assigned to * the greater interpolations.' This name gi^e^ter will conveniently describe a class of passages which differ latio^nZ' much in style and merit, — some of them containing parts of great intrinsic brilliancy, — but which have one general characteristic in common. Each of them presents the appearance of a separate effort by a poet who elaborated a single episode in a vein suited to his own resources, and then inserted it in the Iliad, without much regard to the interests of the epic as a whole. In this general character we may recognise the mark of a period when the higher epic art was declining, while poetical rhetoric and ingenuity found their favourite occupation in giving an elaborate finish to shorter pieces. The following passages come under this class, (i) In book 9, the episode of Phoenix, vv. 432 — 619 — where the desire to tell the story of Meleager was one of the motives. (2) In book II, the interview between Nestor and Patroclus, vv. 596 — 848, or at least so much of it as is comprised in 665 — 762. (3) In book 18, the making of the armour of the Achilles, vv. 369 — end. (4) The Theomachia, in book 20, vv. 4 — 380, (including the combat of Aeneas and Achilles, vv. 75 — 352, in which Aeneas is saved by Poseidon,) and in book 21, 383 — end. (5) In book 23, the funeral games, vv. 257 — end. (6) The case of the 'Catalogue' in book 2 is peculiar. The list of the Greek forces (484 — 779) was mainly the work of a Boeotian poet of the Hesiodic school, and was probably composed long before it was inserted in the Iliad. The list of the Trojan forces (816 — 877) seems to have been a later adjunct to it by a different hand. The above list might be enlarged if we included all the passages, of any considerable extent, which have with more or less reason been regarded as interpolations. But here we must be content to indicate some of the more important and more certain examples. Interpolations of the smaller kind, which have been numerous throughout the Iliad, do not fall within the scope of the present survey. 164 HOMER. [CH. IV. Sum- 6$. Thus, when the several parts of the I/i'ad are JJ^'^y'. considered in relation to each other and to the whole, the the series _ _ ' of addi- result is such as to suggest that the primary I/i'ad has been tions. enlarged by a series of additions, made at successive periods. To the earliest period belong those additions which are represented by books 2 to 7 and 12 to 15. To the next period belong, probably, books 8, 9, 23 (to v. 256), and 24. To the last period belong book 10 and the greater inter- polations. Age and It may now be asked how far it is possible to conjec- origmof ^ui-e thg approximate age of the primary Iliad, and what mary relations of age and authorship probably subsist between //tad. it and the additions of the earliest period. Achilles is a Thessalian hero, of the time when Achaean princes ruled in Peloponnesus and over a great part of northern Greece. The saga which the I/md embodies un- doubtedly belongs to Greece Proper, and to the Achaean age. The Dorian conquest of Peloponnesus caused a displacement of Achaean population, and impelled that tide of emigration from Greece Proper which resulted in the settlement of Greek colonies on the western coasts of Asia Minor. The eleventh century b. c. is the period traditionally assigned to this movement. The Ionian emigrants certainly carried with them the Achaean legend of the I/iad. But in what shape did they carry it ? As a legend not yet expressed in song ? Or as a legend which the Achaean bards of Greece Proper had already embodied in comparatively rude and short lays? Or, lastly, as a poem of matured epic form — our I/iad, or the more essential parts of it ? Argu- 64. It is the last answer which is usually intended the^Eu^^ when ' the European origin ' of the I/iad is affirmed. ropean Arguments in favour of the European origin have recently origin. i^QQxi advanced by Mr Monro, to the following effect ^ 1 'Homer and the Early History of Greece,' in the English His- torical Review, No. I, Jan., 1886. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 1 65 Two Strata of mythical, or mythico-historical, narrative Two can be distinguished in the Iliad. First, there are the ^^.^^^^^ heroes of the Trojan war. Secondly, there are heroes in the whom local traditions in Greece connect with an age before ^'^^^^^ the Trojan war. Thus, in the time of the war, Corinth and Sicyon are under the rule of Agamemnon. But there are also notices of an earlier time, when Corinth had been subject to the dynasty represented by Sisyphus, and Sicyon to the dynasty represented by Adrastus. Now, if the Iliad arose in Greece Proper, it is natural that the poet who knew the legends of Agamemnon's empire should also know the older local legends, and should be able to use both sets of legends without confusing them. But, if the Iliad arose in Asia Minor, it is improbable that the Ionian colonists, who carried the Achaean legends over with them, should also have preserved a distinct memory of the older local legends. 65. In estimating this argument, I would suggest that Estimate the intellectual feat performed by the Ionian colonists, on \^^^ the hypothesis of an Asiatic origin for the Iliad, seems ment. scarcely so difficult as the argument impHes. The legends of the Trojan war were presumably not the only legends which Ionian emigrants would carry with them from Greece to Asia. They would know also the more famous local legends of Greece, such as those concerning Sisyphus of Corinth, Adrastus of Sicyon, or the Perseid kings of Argos. The references in the Iliad to such local legends are extremely slight, being almost limited, indeed, as a rule, to the mention of names. Such knowledge might very easily have been preserved by tradition through several generations of colonists. But suppose that the knowledge shown were much fuller and more precise than it actually is : still the particular difficulty in question— that of keeping two sets of legends distinct— would exist only if the legends of the Trojan war conflicted with the local legends in such a manner that the latter would have been likely to be obscured by the greater popularity of the former, unless l66 HOMER. [CH. IV. kept fresh by actual residence in or near the places con- cerned. In the Iliad, however, there is no conflict of this nature between two sets of legends. At the most, there is a distinction between Achaean and pre-Achaean dynasties. And, further, the clear evidence for this distinction is confined to the Catalogue of the Greek forces. It is only the Catalogue, for example, that represents Agamemnon as ruling directly over Corinth, and over Sicyon, 'where Adrastus formerly reigned \' From the rest of the Iliad it appears only that Agamemnon has the seat of his empire at Mycenae, and exercises the authority of a suzerain over a number of subordinate kings and chiefs. Apart from the Catalogue, nothing in the Iliad is incompatible with the supposition that the immediate ruler of Corinth, under the emperor Agamemnon, was a king claiming descent from Sisyphus, or of Sicyon, a king claiming descent from Adrastus. But the Catalogue of the Greek forces was unquestionally composed in Boeotia, long before it was inserted in the Iliad. So far, then, as a distinction between Achaean and pre-Achaean dynasties is clearly marked, it is due to a poet who was certainly composing in Greece Proper. The ar- 66. More force belongs (in my opinion) to another ^m^^ head of argument used by Mr Monro, which concerns Homeric inferences that may be drawn from Homeric silence, es- silence. 1 //. 2. 572. The mention of Sisyphus is in //. 6. 153. — Other instances are the following, (i) Diomede is king of Argos in the Catalogue (2. 563). The reign of Proetus at Argos is alluded to in 6. 157. Sthenelus, son of Perseus, and Eurystheus, son of Sthenelus, are referred to as kings of Argos in 19. 116 fif. (Dr Christ regards 19. 90 — 356 as a later interpolation.) (2) The Catalogue makes Thoas leader of the Aetolians, — remarking that Oeneus and his sons were now dead: 2. 638 ff. (3) The Catalogue mentions Eurytus as a former king of Oechalia (2. 596), but represents the contingent from Oechalia as led by the sons of Asclepius, — Podaleirius and Machaon (2. 732). — As to Castor and Polydeuces, the Iliad simply notices the fact of their having died (3. 237). Neither in it nor in the Odyssey (11. 299) do they appear as representing a dynasty of kings, anterior to the Pelopid dynasty which began with Menelaus. CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 167 . pecially on three points, (i) Several of the Ionian colonies in Asia Minor claimed to have been founded by Neleidae, descendants of the Homeric Nestor. These Neleidae, the lonians said, had removed from Pylus to Athens. But the Homeric poems nowhere connect Nestor's family with Athens. If the Iliad had been shaped in the Ionian colonies, the link between Pylus and Athens would probably have been supplied, (ii) The name ' Ionian ' occurs once (in the Iliad), and 'Dorian' once (in the Odyssey); the name 'Aeolian ' is unknown to Homer. These tribal names could hardly have failed to be more prominent if the poems had arisen in Asia Minor, (iii) The Greek colonies in Asia Minor are ignored by the Homeric poems. Even the sequel of the Trojan war concerns European Greece alone. No Homeric hero returns to AeoHs or Ionia. In one of the Cyclic poems (the NoVtoi), on the other hand, Calchas goes to Colophon. 67. What all this tends to show is, that the events, Infer- persons and names of the Trojan legend had been fixed, ^^^~ from a time before the Ionian emigration, in such a manner fixity of that poets could no longer venture to innovate in any the//S^' essential matter. Suppose, for instance, that a poet living in Asia Minor wished to create Homeric honours for his city or its founders. He could not do so, because every one knew that the authentic Homer did not recognise that city or those persons. The question is, then, — Would this degree of fixity have been already secured, if the Achaean legends had come to Asia Minor, not yet in a matured epic form, but only in the shape of comparatively rude Aeolian lays, which the Ionian poets afterwards used as material ? This is difficult to believe. It seems to me hardly possible to explain the sustained resistance of the Homeric legend to the intrusion of patriotic anachronisms except on the supposition that its form had already been fixed, in the greater lines, before it arrived in Ionia. And Dr Geddes has shown very fully how strong are the marks of a Thessa- 1 68 HOMER. [CH. IV. Thes- lian origin in certain parts of the Iliad. The area over sahan which he traces them is that of Grote's ' Achilleid ' — books marks in the I, 8, and ii to 22. But it will be found, I think, that the primary ^^.^^ within which such marks are clearest is the more Ihad. limited one of our 'primary Iliad,'' — books i, ii, and i6 to 2 2. The 68. These conditions of the problem would be satisfied primary ^^y ^ hypothesis which, if it cannot claim to be more, has at perhaps least a considerable degree of probability in its favour. A Thes- poet living in Northern Greece may have composed the substance of the primary Iliad, — books i, ii, and those parts of books i6 to 22 which are essential to the plan of the epic. His work may have been done in the eleventh century B.C. The epic would then be brought by emigrants from Greece to Asia Minor with its form already fixed to an extent which would exercise a general control over subsequent enlargements. The silence of the Iliad on the points noticed above would be explained. The It is impossible to say with any exactness what would dialect ]^2ive. been the complexion of the dialect used by a Thessalian wards I- poet cif'c. iioo — looo B.C. But it is at least certain that it omcised. ^Quld have had a large number of word-forms in common with the Aeolic of the historical age, since Aeolic was the most conservative of the dialects in regard to the oldest forms of the language. The original, or Achaean, dialect of the Iliad would in Ionia be gradually modified under loni- cising influences, through Ionian poets who enlarged the epic, and rhapsodes who recited it. It would thus by degrees assume that aspect of a 'mixed dialect' — Ionic, but with an Aeolic tinge — which it now presents, and which suggested Tick's theory of a translation from Aeolic into Ionic. Ancient 69. Such a modification of dialect would not, however, in an^ suffice to explain the behef, practically universal in ancient Asiatic Greece, which associated 'Homer' with the western coasts Homer, ^f ^gj^ Minor. This is a fact with which we have to reckon; and it is one which the advocates of a European Homer CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 169 have often esteemed too lightly. The general belief of ancient Greece has a significance which remains unimpaired by the rejection of local legends connecting Homer with particular cities. The case is not that of a chain which can be no stronger than its weakest link. The general beHef did not rest on the aggregate of local legends. Rather, the several local claimants were emboldened to display their usually slender credentials, because, while no one knew the precise birth-place of Homer, most people were agreed that he belonged to Asia Minor. We know, too, that, from about 800 B.C., at least, Ionia was pre-eminently fertile in epic poetry. It was also the mother-country of that poetry which came next after the epic in order of development, the elegiac and iambic. 70. The Asiatic claim to Homer seems, however, The Eu- entirely compatible with the European origin of the Iliad. ^ope3,n The earliest additions are probably represented, as we have be re- seen, by the older parts of books 2 to 7. In these books con,"^f^ •^ ^ ' with the we can trace a personal knowledge of Asia Minor. It is in Asiatic. them, too, that we meet with Sarpedon and Glaucus, the leaders of the southern Lycians (cp. § 22), whose prominence is probably due to the reputed lineage of some Ionian houses. Book 12, again, shows local knowledge of Asia Minor; Sarpedon and Glaucus figure in it; and it coheres closely with books 13, 14, and 15. The older parts of books 2 to 7, and 12 to 15, may have been added in Ionia at a very early date. Books 8, 9, 23 (to v. 256), and 24 — in parts of which Ionian traits occur — were also of Ionian authorship, and can hardly be later than 850 — 800 B.a Thus, while the primary Iliad was Thessalian, the enlarged Iliad would have been known, from a high antiquity, as Ionian. 71. In books 2 to 7 (excluding the Catalogue) at least Author- two poets have wrought. In book 3 it is proposed to decide the ear- the war by a combat of two heroes, which takes place, but }-^^ ^"" is indecisive: book 7 repeats the incident, only with different ments. 1 7© HOMER. [CH. IV. persons. Both episodes cannot be due to the same hand, and that in book 7 is probably the original. Can the earlier poet of these books be the original poet of the primary Iliad^ working under the influences of a new home in Ionia? It is possible ; and the possibility must be estimated from an ancient point of view: the ancient epic poet composed with a view to recitation; only limited portions of his work could be heard at a time; and he would feel free to add new episodes, so long as they did not mar his general design. But, though possible, it seems very improbable, if the primary Iliad was indeed a product of Northern Greece. A poet who had migrated thence would have been unhkely to show such sympathy with Ionian life and tradition as can be traced in the allusions and persons of these books. With regard to books 12 to 15, many features of their economy, as well as the pervading style and spirit, seem to warrant the opinion that their author, or authors, though highly gifted, had no hand in the primary Iliad. Whether he, or they, bore any part in the composition of books 2 to 7, there is nothing to show. Judging by the evidence of style and tone, I should say, probably not. We have seen that books 8 and 9 may be assigned to a distinct author, who probably composed also the older parts of 24, and perhaps of 23. Predo- 72. If, however, the primary Iliad is rightly ascribed to minant qj^^ poet, the attempt to define the partnership of different cance of hands in the enlargement has only a diminished interest; as the first j|. (.^j^ have, at best, only a very indecisive result. However eminent were the gifts of the enlargers, it is to the poet of the primary Iliad^ if to any one, that the name of Homer belongs, so far as that epic is concerned. It seems vain to conjecture what relations existed between this first poet and the enlargers of his work. There is no real evidence for a clan or guild of 'Homeridae,' whom many critics (including Dr Christ) have conceived as poets standing in some peculiarly near relationship to Homer, and as, in a manner, CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 17I the direct inheritors of his art, in contradistinction to later and alien poets or rhapsodes who also contributed to the Iliad. As to the original 'rhapsodies' or cantos in which the poem was composed, every attempt to determine their precise limits is (in my belief) foredoomed to failure. In some particular instances the result may be accurate, or nearly so. But a complete dissection of the Iliad into cantos must always be largely guess-work. 73. The argument noticed above, derived from Homeric silence regarding the Asiatic colonies and the tribal names, ^/^P^ applies to the Odyssey no less than to the Iliad. From a Odyssey. date prior to the settlement of the Asiatic colonies the f(3rm of the story was probably so far fixed as to preclude such references. It appears probable that the original ' Return of Odysseus' was a poem of small compass, composed, before the Ionian migration, in Greece Proper, though not with any close knowledge of Ithaca and the western coasts (cp. p. 44). Having been brought to Ionia by the colonists, it was there greatly enlarged. 74. The broad difference between the case of the Iliad Ionian and that of the Odyssey may be expressed by saying that the ^i^velop- latter, in its present form, is far more thoroughly and the characteristically Ionian. One cause of this may be that P°^^^- the original 'Return of Odysseus' — native to Greece Proper — bore a much less important relation to the final Ionian form of the poem than the primary Thessalian Iliad bore to the Ionian enlargement. This, indeed, would almost follow from the respective natures of the two themes, if the com- pass of the primary Iliad ^2^% rightly indicated above (§ 57). The original 'Return of Odysseus' secured fixity of general conception sufficiently to exclude allusions to the Ionian colonies, and the like. But it left a much larger scope for expansion, under specially Ionian influences, than the primary Iliad had left. The subject of the Odyssey was essentially congenial to lonians, with their love of maritime 172 HOMER. [CH. IV. adventure, and their peculiar sympathy with the qualities personified in the hero. The poem shows a familiar know- ledge of Delos — the sacred island to which lonians annually repaired for the festival of Apollo — and of the Asiatic coast adjacent to Chios. Still more significant is the Ionian impress which the Odyssey bears as a whole, — in the tone of thought and feeling, in the glimpses of distant voyages, and in the gentle graces of domestic life. Author- 75. While few careful readers can doubt that the Odyssey, ^ ^P* as it stands, has been put together by one man, there are parts which more or less clearly reveal themselves as additions to an earlier form of the poem: especially the 'Telemachy' (books I — 4), the latter part of book 23 (from v. 297), and book 24. I believe, with Kirchhofif, that the original * Return' existed in an enlarged Ionian form, before the present, or finally enlarged, form was given to it by another and later Ionian hand. But I much doubt whether the original limits of the 'Return', and of the first enlargement, can now be determined. Rela- 76. If any reliance can be placed on internal evidence, it lions may be taken as certain that the poet of the primary Iliad Iliad, had no share in the authorship of the Odyssey. The differ- ences of style, versification, and spirit are not merely of a nature which could be explained by difference of subject; the more these differences are considered, the more con- vincingly do they attest the workings of a diff"erent mind. It is, however, quite possible, and not improbable, that the Ionian poet (or poets) who enlarged the Odyssey had a hand in the enlargement of the Iliad. But, though un- mistakeable affinities of language and manner can be traced between the Odyssey and later parts of the Iliad (especially books 9 and 24), we still seem to be left without adequate evidence on which to found a presumption of personal identity. Age of With regard to the age of the Odyssey, we may sup- Odyssey. pose that the original 'Return' was composed in Greece CH. IV.] THE HOMERIC QUESTION. 1 73 Proper as early as the eleventh century B.C., and that the first enlargement had been made before 850 B.C. The Cyclic Little Iliad {circ. 700 B.C.) showed the influence of the Odyssey ; but the only Cyclic poem which implies an Odyssey complete in its present compass is the Telegonia, which dated only from the earlier half of the sixth century B.C. It cannot be shown, then, that Kirchhoff has gone too low in assigning circ. 660 B.C. as the date of the second enlargement. 77. In the foregoing pages the endeavour has been to Conclo- present a connected view of the probabihties concerning ^^°"- the Homeric question, as they now appear to me. That view differs, as a whole, from any which (so far as I know) has yet been stated, but harmonises several elements which have been regarded as essential by others. Care has been taken to distinguish at each step (as far as possible) between what is reasonably certain, and what is only matter of conjecture, recommended by a greater or less degree of likelihood. The limits within which any definite solution of the Homeric problem is possible have been more clearly marked — as we have seen — by the labours of successive scholars; and, with regard to these general Hmits, there is now comparatively little divergence of opinion. But the details of a question in which the individual literary sense has so large a scope must continue to wear different aspects for different minds. There is little prospect of any general agreement as to what is exactly the best mode of co-ordinating the generally accepted facts or probabilities. Where certainty is unattainable, caution might prescribe a merely negative attitude; but an ex- plicit hypothesis, duly guarded, has at least the ad- vantage of providing a basis for discussion. The reader is induced to consider how far he agrees, or dissents, and so to think for himself It is possible that the progress of Homeric study may yet throw some further light oii f74 HOxMER. [CH. IV. matters which are now obscure. The best hope of such a gain depends on the continued examination of the Homeric text itself, in regard to contents, language, and style. i APPENDIX. Note i, p. 6i. THE HOUSE AT TIRYNS. The ancient fortress of Tiryns stood in the S. E. corner of the plain of Argos, about f of a mile from the shores of the Gulf. It was built on a limestone rock, which forms a ridge measuring about 328 yards from N. to S.s with an average breadth of about 109 yards. The upper part of the citadel was at the southern end, where the rock is highest. The lower citadel was at the northern end. The upper and lower citadels were separated by a section of the rocky plateau to which stairs led down from the upper citadel, and which has been designated as the middle citadel. The excavations of Dr Schliemann have been confined to the upper and the middle citadel. The exploration of the site thus remains in- complete. The lower citadel still awaits an explorer. In the opinion of some who can judge, an excavation of the lower citadel would probably reveal the existence of chambers at a greater depth than has yet been reached. Every one must share the hope expressed by the correspondent of the Times (April 24, 1886), that this task may some day be undertaken. It is in the lower citadel, as the same writer observes, that the true key to the archaic history of the site may possibly be found. The only Homeric mention of Tiryns is in the Catalogue of the Greek forces, which, as we have seen (p. 42), was mainly the work of a Boeotian poet. He is enumerating the cities whose men were led by Diomede and Sthenelus (//. 2. 559) : — ol 5' "Apyos T elxov TlpwOd re Tecx'.deacrau. The whole citadel of Tiiyns is still encompassed by those massive walls to which the epithet refers. They are formed of huge irregular blocks of limestone, piled on one another, the interstices being filled with small stones. It had always been supposed that, in such 'Cyclopean' walls the stones were unhewn, and were not bound by 176 HOMER. mortar, being kept in position simply by their great weight. In both particulars the general belief has been corrected by the recent ex- amination of the walls at Tiryns. It now appears that almost ail the stones, before being used, had been wrought with a pick-hammer .on one or several faces, and thus roughly dressed ; also that, as Dr F. Adler had surmised, a clay mortar had been used for bonding. The remains of a Byzantine Church, and of some Byzantine tombs, exist at the S. end of the plateau of the upper citadel. At his earlier visit to Tiryns, Dr Schliemann was disposed to think, from indications on the surface, that the other remains, which he has since laid bare, must be also Byzantine. These consist of house-walls, which now stand nowhere more than about a yard above the ground, while in some parts the destruction has been complete. From these remains, Dr Dorpfeld, the architect employed by Dr Schliemann, has restored the ground-plan of the original house, as shown in the accompanying sketch. Dr Dorpfeld supposes the house to have been built by The house at Tiryns. Phoenicians, about iioo B.C., or earlier. Mr J. C. Penrose formerly urged several objections to so early a date. The substance of his argu- ment was reported in the Times of July 1, 1886, from which extracts were here cited in the previous editions of this book. The points on which he dwelt were chiefly three :— (i) 'A fundamental difference in character of work' between the 'so-called palace at Tiryns' and the APPENDIX. 177 really prehistoric work at Mycenae, such as the 'Treasury of Athens' and the Gate of Lions. {2) Traces of the stone-saw ' all over the newly-discovered remains.' (3) The presence of baked bricks, which, ' in the opinion of an experienced brickmaker,' could not have been brought into that state simply by a fire in which the house was burned down, if they had originally been raw bricks — as they ought to have been, on the prehistoric hypothesis. But Mr Penrose has since revisited the remains, under the guidance of Dr Dorpfeld, and has waived these objections [Athenaeum, Nov. ii, 1887). The advocates of a ' pre- historic' date are fully entitled to all the benefit of such a recantation. If the question as to the age of the remains is ever to be settled, it can only be settled by persons specially versed in ancient wall-building. But the impression left on most minds by the discussion, so far as it has yet gone, will be that there is ample room for disagreement, even among the most skilful. The architectural evidence is not only scanty, but is disastrously confused by the presence of 'some walls' (to quote Mr Penrose's most recent opinion) ' clearly of later date, which interfere with the proper ground-plan.' The latest utterance of an expert is Mr Stillman's {Times, Jan. 9, 1888), who refers to the arguments for a Byzantine date. It is perhaps hardly necessary for the present writer to observe that he has never advanced any opinion whatever on this architectural ques- tion, as to the age of the remains at Tiryns. For the purpose of this Note, it is immaterial whether the older house-walls at Tiryns are Phoenician, of iioo B.C., or Greek, of any period. The question with which this Note deals is solely the relation of the remains at Tiryns to Homeric evidence. It is afiirmed by Dr Schliemann and Dr Dorpfeld that the houses of the Homeric age, so far as they are known from Homer, were on the same general plan as the house at Tiryns. Now, the house of Odysseus in the Odyssey is the only Homeric house con- cerning which we have data of a kind which enables us to form a tolerably complete idea of the interior arrangements. Confirmatory evidence on some points, and additional light on others, may be gathered from the houses of Menelaus and Alcinous. These houses appear to represent the same general ground-plan. But the house of Odysseus is not merely described in more detail than the others. It happens also to be the scene of an elaborate domestic drama, occupying; several books of the Odyssey. We have thus a searching test by which to try the correctness of any notions which we may have formed as to the plan of that house. The true plan must be such as to make the house a possible theatre for that drama. Let the matter at issue be distinctly understood, since some confusion about it is traceable in Dr Schliemann's book Tiryns, as well J. 12 178 HOMER. as in the utterances of those who maintain his theory. If the Homeric indications do not agree with the house at Tiryns, that fact does not, of itself, prove that the house is not of the Homeric (or pre-Homeric) age. No one would contend that all the houses of that age must have been built on exactly the same plan. But in Tiryns (p. 227) appeal is made specifically to the house of Odysseus. It is argued that the plan of that house was in general agreement with the plan found at Tiryns, and that the drama enacted in it could have been enacted at Tiryns. Now, the evidence of the Odyssey proves that the poet had in his mind a house of an entirely different kind from the house at Tiryns. The difference is not merely a variation of detail. It is a difference of type. Dr Dorpfeld speaks with acknowledged weight when he speaks as an architect on a question of ancient architecture. But the attempt to dispose of the literary evidence of the Odyssey to which he devotes a few lines at p. 227 of Tiryns is grotesquely superficial. It could not have been offered, or accepted, by any one who had even a rudimentary idea of what is meant by an adequate examination of literary evidence. He notices only five verses in the whole epic. Of these five verses, four (i. 333, 16. 415, 18. 209, 21. 64) are simply the oft-repeated GTy] pa irapa aradixhv riyeos irvKa irotrjTolo. On this, he merely asserts, without attempting to prove, that the door at the iower end of the hall is intended. The other verse (since he thus has really only two) is 21. 236, where, before the slaying of the suitors, Eurycleia is commanded KKyjlaai fieydpoio 6vpas irvKLvm dpapvias. On this, he remarks that there is nothing to show that these doors opened on the hall; and that the object of closing them was, ' not to keep the suitors from escaping, but to keep the women undisturbed within.' In a foot-note on the same page (227) another passage is adduced from Od. 6. 50 fF., where it is said that Nausicaa, after finding her mother at the hearth, met with {^vfi^\r]To) her father as he was going forth to the council. This argument assumes that the hearth at which Nausicaa found her mother was in the women's apartments, and that, as Nausicaa, coming thence, 'met' her father leaving the house, she entered the hall by the door from the court. The answer is furnished by Od. 7. 139 ff. We find Arete and Alcinous sitting together in the men's hall near the iaxo-pa at its upper end, — where Penelope also sits in 20. 55, and where Helen joins Menelaus (4. 121). Nausicaa, on awaking, wishes to tell her dream to her parents. She goes 8ia Sco/xara, 'through the house,' from her own bed-chamber in the women's apartments, to the men's hall, — the door between them being open. In the hall she finds her mother. Her father she found, we may suppose, APPENDIX. 179 in the prodomus or in the aul^, * about to go forth.' We cannot press ^vfjL^X-qTQ as if it necessarily implied that the two persons were moving in exactly contrary directions. It means simply 'fell in with,' 'chanced to find.' The evidence of the Odyssey on this question is not to be gauged by three phrases isolated from their context, and interpreted in a fashion at once dogmatic and unsound. It must be tested by a close and consecutive examination of the whole story, so far as it can illustrate the plan of the house. Such an examination I have attempted to make in the Journal of Hellenic Shtdies, vol. VII. p. 170 ('The Homeric House in relation to the Remains at Tiryns'). Reference to the accompanying plan will show that the house at Tiryns has certain general features in common with the Homeric house. The Homeric irpodvpou, or front gateway of the court, is represented at Tiryns by a propylaeum, — a kind of gateway formed by placing two porticoes back to back, — which in Greece had not hitherto been found before the 5th century B.C. At Tiryns we have also a court-yard [avX-n) — called the 'Men's Fore-Court' in the plan — with porticoes {aWovaai). The prodomus, however, is not, at Tiryns, the space covered by the aWovcra, or portico, but a distinct room beyond it (called 'Vestibule' in the plan). Then there is the great hall,— the 'Men's Megaron' in the plan. So far there is a resemblance, though only of the most general kind. But we now come to a difference much more striking and essential than the points of likeness. At Tiryns the men's hall has no outlet except the door by which it is entered from the 'Vestibule.' The women's apartments are identified with a second and smaller hall, completely isolated from the other, which has its own vestibule, its own court, and its own egress. There is nothing whatever to show that this smaller hall and court really belonged to women. The more reasonable supposition would be that they belonged to a second and smaller house, dis- tinct from the larger house. The arbitrary manner in which such theories can be formed or changed is curiously illustrated at p. 224 of Tiryns. At Hissarlik in the Troad, as at Tiryns, there are the remains of two buildings, a larger and a smaller, side by side. After pro- pounding other views about them, Dr Schliemann had decided in Troja that they were to be temples. But, because the smaller court at Tiryns is to be the women's court, Dr Dorpfeld now says that the larger building at Hissarlik was a dwelling for men, and the smaller building beside it a dwelling for women. He doubts, however, whether the smaller building at Hissarlik was not 'a smaller men's house' (p. 224). Why, then, should not the smaller court at Tiryns be a smaller men's court? 12 2 l8o HOMER. From the men's hall at Tiryns to the so-called women's hall the only modes of access were by very circuitous and intricate routes. They are thus described by Dr Dorpfeld {Tiryns, p. 236) : — 'In the north-west part of the palace lies a small court, with colonnades and adjoining rooms, which has no direct connection with the main court ; it is the court of the women's dwelling. You must pass many doors and corridors to reach this inner part of the palace. There appear to have been three ways of reaching it. First, from the back-hall of the great Propylaeum, through the long passage XXXVI., to the colonnade XXXI. ; and from this, through the outer court XXX., to the east colonnade of the women's court. Secondly, you could go from the great court or from the megaron, past the bath-room, into corridor XII., and then through passages XIV,, XV., and XIX., to reach the vestibule of the women's apartments. A third way probably went from the east colonnade of the great court, through room XXXIII. , into the colonnade XXI., and then along the first way into the court of the women's apartments. All these three approaches are stopped in several places by doors, and the women's apartment was therefore quite separated from the great hall of the men's court.' The above three routes can readily be traced on our plan by means of the Arabic numerals which I have placed to represent Dr Dorpfeld's Roman numerals: — (i) for the first route, — 36, 31, 30: (2) for the second, 12, 14, 15, 19: (3) for the third, 33, 31, 30. In the house of Odysseus, on the contrary, the women's apartments were immediately behind the men's hall, and directly communicated with it by a door. This is proved by many passages, among which are the following, I. In book 17 Odysseus comes to his house in the guise of an aged beggar. Telemachus, to whom alone the secret is known, is in the great hall with the suitors. Odysseus, with the humility proper to his supposed quality, sits down 'on the threshold of ash, within the doors' (17. 339): r^e 5' kirX fxeXlvov ovdou iuroaOe dvpdwvy i.e. at the lower end of the hall, on the threshold of the doorway leading into it from the prodomus. The suitors who, with their retinue^ numbered about a hundred and twenty, were feasting at a series of small tables, which may be imagined as arranged in two rows from end to end of the hall, leaving in the middle a free space in which the twelve axes were afterwards set up. Telemachus sends food to Odysseus, with a message that he should advance into the hall, and beg alms from table to table among the suitors. Odysseus does so ; and, while he is thus engaged, one of the suitors, Antinous, strikes him. Odysseus then returns to his place on the ashen threshold. Meanwhile Penelope APPENDIX. i8t is sitting among her handmaids in the women's apartments (17. 505), She hears — doubtless through one of the women-servants — of the blow dealt by Antinous to the humble stranger ; and she sends to the hall for Eumaeus. When he comes, she desires him to go and bring the mendicant into her presence. He delivers her message to Odysseus, who is still seated on the ashen threshold. Odysseus replies that he would gladly go to Penelope; 'but,' he adds, 'I somewhat fear the throng of the froward wooers For even now, as I was going through the hall, when yon man struck me, and pained me sore, — though I had done no wrong, — neither Telemachus nor anyone else came to my aid.' That is, he declines to go to Penelope, because, in order to reach her apartments, he would have to pass up the hall, among the suitors, one of whom had already insulted him. 2. The supposed mendicant is then accommodated for the night with a rough ' shake-down ' in the prodomus — the fore-hall or vestibule of the megaron. As he lies awake there, he observes some of the handmaids pass forth from the men's hall (20. 6) : — KeiT eypvifopowv rai 5* iK fieydpoLO yvva^Kei rfCffav. But, after escorting Penelope to the interview with the stranger in the hall, they had returned to the women's apartments (19. 60). Thus again it appears that the direct way from the women's apartments to the court lay through the men's hall. 3. The next day, while the suitors are revelling in the hall, and taunting Telemachus, Penelope is sitting, as before, in the women's apartments. She is not in her own room on the upper storey, to which she presently ascends (21. 5), but on the ground-floor, level with the hall. She places her chair *over against' the hall (Kar avrrjanv, 20. 387), i.e. close to the wall dividing the hall from the women's apartments; and thus 'she heard the words of each one of the men in the hair (20. 389). Similarly in 17. 541, being in the women's apart- ments, she heard Telemachus sneeze in the hall. Such incidents would be impossible in a house of the type supposed at Tiryns. 4. In preparation for the slaying of the suitors, Odysseus and his son decide to remove the arms from the hall, and to carry them to a room in the inner part of the house. That such was the position of the armoury is made certain by the phrases used with regard to it,— etVw (19. 4), icr^opeov (19. 32), ^v5op (22. 140). But, before doing this, Telemachus, in the hall, 'called forth' the nurse Eurycleia (19. 15), and said to her: 'Shut up the women in their chambers, till I shall have laid by in the armoury the goodly weapons of my father.' Thereupon 'she closed the doors of the chambers' {19. 30), and the removal of the arms was effected. Whence was Eurycleia 'called forth' into the 1 82 HOMER. hall ? Evidently from the women's apartments immediately behind it, as in the similar case at 21. 378. The doors which she closed were those leading from the women's apartments into the hall. The arms were then taken from the hall to the armoury by a side-passage (to be noticed presently), which ran along the wall on the outside. 5. The threshold on which Odysseus first sat is called, as we have seen, the threshold of ash {fi^Xcvos), and was at the lower end of the hall (17. 339). Next day, Telemachus makes him sit down 'by the sione threshold' {irapai, Xdl'uou ovdov, 20. 258), which was clearly at the upper end of the hall. The stone threshold is that which Penelope crosses in passing from the women's apartments to the hall (23. 88). Odysseus is still sitting by the stone threshold, when Eumaeus comes to his side, and calls forth Eurycleia from the women's apartments, — another indication that the door opening upon those apartments was at the upper end of the hall. It has been suggested that we can obviate the difficulty of supposing the women's apartments at Tiryns to have had no communication with the men's except by circuitous routes, if we imagine that, in a side-wall of the men's hall, on the right hand of a person entering it, there once existed a side-door, raised some feet above the level of the floor, and no longer traceable in the existing remains of the house- walls, which are nowhere more than about a yard in height. Such a side-door is mentioned in Od. 22. 126: dpaodOprj 8e rtj ^(xk€v evdixijTi^ in roixv^ This opcroOvpT], or 'raised postern,' opened upon a passage [XaipT]), which ran along the outside of the hall. (See the plan at p. 58.) Let us suppose, then, that such an opaodiprj once existed at Tiryns, though no trace of it is now visible. It would have necessarily been the usual mode of access from the women's to the men's hall, as being, at Tiryns, the only one which was not extremely circuitous. To it, therefore, we should have to refer the often-repeated phrase concerning Penelope as she enters the men's hall from the women's apartments : aT7) pa rrapa, araOixov reyeos iruKa TrocrjTolo (i. 333, etc.). But this phrase, 'she stood by the door-post of the hall,' must refer to one of the principal entrances to the hall. It is manifestly quite inapplicable to a small raised postern in a side-wall. Moreover, the hypothesis of an dpaodvprj at Tiryns leaves a whole series of difficulties untouched. The following are some of them, — the first three turning on passages noticed above. (i) Odysseus, being at the lower end of the hall, refuses to go to the women's rooms because he would have to pass up the hall among the suitors. At Tiryns he would only have had to turn his back upon the suitors, and to leave the hall. (2) The women, coming from their own sleeping-rooms at night, issue from the men's hall, and pass by Odysseus sleeping in the pro- APPENDIX. 183 domus. At Tiryns they would have gone out by the separate approach to their own court. They could not have passed through the men's hall, or its prodomus. (3) Eumaeus, when at the upper end of the hall, is in the right position to call forth Eurycleia from the women's apartments, and to charge her privily to close them. At Tiryns, even with the hypothetical opaodvpt], this could not have so happened. (4) After the slaying of the suitors, Telemachus, being in the men's hall, calls forth Eurycleia by striking a closed door (22. 394). Now, the opaodvpT) was at this time open {22, 333); so, also, was the door at the lower end of the hall (22. 399). The door, leading to the women's apartments, which Telemachus struck, must therefore be a third door, distinct from both of these. It was the door at the upper end of the hall, as the whole evidence of the Odyssey shows. In the house at Tiryns it has no existence. (5) In the house at Tiryns the armoury {BdXafios o-rrXwu) has to be identified with one of the small rooms on the side of the women's hall furthest from the men's hall. Such a position, — accessible from the men's hall only by long and intricate routes, — is wholly irreconcileable with that easy and swift access to the armoury which is required by the narrative of the [x.vr}aT7]po({>ovla in book 22 of the Odyssey : see especially vv. 106 — 112. * A suggested restoration of the Great Hall in the Palace of Tiryns * has been published by Prof. J. H. Middleton in the Journ. Hellen. Studies, VII. 161. Some points in this call for notice, (i) In Od. 22. 142, — where the suitors, shut into the hall, are being shot down by Odysseus from the threshold at its lower end, — the goat-herd Melanthius, an ally of the suitors, contrives to escape from the hall, and to bring armour for them from the armoury. The way in which Melanthius left the hall is thus described : — 'he went up by the pc37es of the hall': — ws eiTTWJ/ dve^aive MeXavdcos, aliroXos alyuu^ es daXdpLOVs 'Odvayjos dvd pcu-yas fJLeydpoLO. What the pQyes were, is doubtful : to me it seems most probable that they were the narrow passages, reached from the hall by the dpaodvp-q, by which one could pass round, outside the hall, into the back part of the house, where the armouiy was. This was the view of Eustathius, and it has recently been supported by Mr J. Protodikos, in his essay De Aedibus Homericis (Leipsic, 1877). The Modern Greek jiovyay 'narrow passage,' is probably the Homeric pw^, puyo^, — u /xaxv, and 24. 400.) (4) iiri as = ' extending over' : i. 2gg iravras eV dpdpcairovs. (So in //. 9, 10, 24.) (5) Trpos with dat. = ' besides' ; 10. 6S irpbs roia-i. (6) dvd with gen. : 2. 416 dva. vrjos \ ^aivcj. (7) /card with ace. 'on' (business, etc.): 3. 'J2 Kara 7rp7}^ii>. (8) ei'^= 'among', with persons or abstract words: 2. 194 iv ird}s...v7r€KTrpo(pvyoLfxi. This is frequent in Od.^ but extremely rare in //. Note 4, p. 140. HOMERIC WORDS WHICH SHOW TRACES OF THE DIGAMMA. (i) The following words, as used in Homeric verse, show traces of ■a lost initial f. The effect of / appears either in warranting hiatus or in making position (see p. 141). In almost all these words, however, the Homeric observance of / is more or less inconstant. As regards most of them, the / is attested, independently of metre, by the corre- sponding forms in other languages. But it will be seen that an asterisk is prefixed to a few words in the list. This means that, in their case, such confirmatory evidence is either wanting or doubtful, and that metre affords the principal (or the only) ground for supposing that they once began with f. dyvvfu, to break. — aXts (rt. Fek, to press), enough. — avat,, lord, auaacra, avaacruv. — *apaL6s, thin. — apva, dpves, etc., lamb. [In Od. 9. 444, how- ever, dpveios, a young ram, h.a.s no /.] — dcTTv, town. Sanscr. vdstu. — 'iap, spring. Lat. ver. — ei'/coo-t, twenty. Lat. viginti. — ei'Xw (/eX), to press, ^Xcrat, dXet's, h\[xhos: with the cognate oXdvac (cp. e-oKiav). — elKvo} (/eX, perh. distinct from the last), to wrap round; €l\vvo%, price (Sanscr. vasnds, Lat. ven-um, ven-eo, ven-do). Note 5. homeric versification. The best treatment of the subject, for English students, will be found in Prof Seymour's Homeric Language and Verse (Boston, U. S. A., Ginn and Co., 1885). The scope of this Note is limited to giving a short view of the most essential matters, in a form convenient for reference. I. Dactyls and spondees. In the Iliad and Odyssey dactyls are about thrice as frequent as spondees. This is one of the causes to which the Homeric hexameter owes its rapidity, as the Virgilian hexameter often owes its peculiar majesty to the larger spondaic element — a condition which the Latin language imposed, and which Virgil treated with such consummate skill. Verses in which every foot except the sixth is a dactyl {rov 5' d-rrafieL^ofieuos 7rpocri(pT] Trooas w/cus 'AxtWei^s) are far more frequent in Homer than in Virgil. On the other hand, verses in which every foot except the fifth is a spondee ( C/t belli signum Laurenti Turnus ab arce) are much commoner in Virgil than in Homer. i APPENDIX. I9T Verses are technically called 'spondaic' {(riropdecd^ovTes arixoiy CTvovdeLaKo. hrr}) when the fifth foot is a spondee, whether the first four feet are purely spondaic, or not. About 4 verses in every 100 of the I/iad are, in this limited sense, 'spondaic,' — a larger proportion than is found in Latin poetry. One or two apparent instances, however, break the rule that the hexameter must not end with two words, each of which is a spondee : thus in Od. 9. 306, 7jc5 Slav, we should write 770a; and in Od. 14. 239, Stj/jlov (prffiis, dijfjLoo. Verses in which every foot is a spondee are extremely rare : our texts have only three in each epic (//. 2. 544, II. 130, 23. 221: Od. 15. 334, 21. 15, 22. 175, repeated 192) ; and most, if not all, of these would admit a dactyl by the restoration of uncontracted forms. In Latin, where the temptation was stronger, there was a similar reluctance to imitate Ennius in his o/li respondet rex Albai longai. II. Caesura. •Caesura' is the 'cutting' {roixri) of a metrical foot by the break between two words; as in ixrivLv \ deide the dactyl is cut. Such a break between words necessarily causes a slight pause of the voice; which may, or may not, coincide with a pause in the sense. Hence the phrase, 'caesural pause'; and the caesura itself is sometimes called simply a 'pause'. In every metrical foot there is one syllable on which the chief strength of tone, or zc^us, falls. This is called the 'ictus-syllable'. It is the first syllable in a dactyl (- ^ ^), and in a spondee (- -). It is also called the arsis ('raising', as if the voice were raised on it); while the rest of the foot is called the thesis ('lowering'). This is the current use of the terms, derived from Roman writers. But the correct use — the old Greek one — is exactly opposite : in it, dicns meant 'putting down the foot', — hence the syllable marked by the beat or icfus: dpcns meant the 'lifting of the foot', — hence the syllable, or syllables, not so marked. When caesura follows the ictus-syllable, it is called masculine, because it gives a vigorous effect. When it comes between two syllables, neither of which has ictus (such as the second and third syllables of a dactyl), it x?, feminine. The Homeric hexameter almost always has one or other of these two caesuras in the third iooi: thus: — (i) Masculine caesura. //. i. i fxrivLv d'etSe, 6e\ a, A Ht? [ \rjid5eu 'Axi\vos. This is also called rofiv ireudrjinifMepTis, 'penthemimeral', as following the fifth half-foot of the verse. (2) Feminine caesura. Od. i. i dvdpa fioi ^vvewe, \ Mouaa, A iroX | vrpoirov, 6s jxaXa iroWa. This is described by Greek writers as the roixi) Kara rplrov rpoxa'iov. It is decidedly commoner in Homer than the masculine caesura of the third foot. The preference for it is shown 192 HOMER. bv the number of constant formulas, or 'tags,' which are adapted to it, such as iraTTjp avdpQv re d€i2v re, dea yXavKUJiris 'Adrivr], etc. Those adapted to the masculine caesura, such as 77777x0^6? rjd^ /j-edovres, are fewer. The principal pause of the verse must never come at the end of the third foot. Thus such a verse as this is impossible : — Xtjtovs /cai Aios l/ryovos* I (vs ^aaCkrn xo'Kcadeis. This would cut the hexameter into two equal parts, and so destroy the rh}i:hm. But, when the principal pause is not at the end of the third foot, a caesura in that foot is sometimes, though very rarely, dispensed with. (The number of verses with no caesura of the third foot is given by Seymour as 185 in the I/ia^, and 71 in the Odyssey: p. 83, § 40 c.) It is less uncommon for the third foot to end with a word when the caesura saves the rhj'thm: as Tl. 3. 185 %vBa I5ov TrXelarovs ^pvyas \ dvepas. The masculine caesura of the fourth foot is somewhat more frequent in the UiaJ than in the Odyssey, and often follows the feminine caesura of the third foot, as 77. i. 5 oluvouri re iracn' Atos 5' A eTeXeiero /SouXt;. This is the to/xt, ecpdrjfiLfiep-QS, as following the seventh half-foot of the verse. The feminine caesura of the fourth foot is avoided. Thus such a verse as the following is very rare, — IZ. 23. 760 ayxi- fJ-aX, as ore ris re yvvauKos A eij^uvoio. In II. 9. 394, where the MSS. have JlrfKets d-qv fiot iireira ywaiKa A ya/MeaaeTcu avros, Aristarchus amended yafieaa-eraL into 76 fia.(T(jeTai, which avoids this TOfj.Tj vara reraprov rpoxcuov, since the enclitic ye is considered as closely adhering to ywalKa. III. T/u bucolic diaeresis. As a metrical term, hic'ipe5, etc. The fourth foot is in this case much oftener a dactyl than a spondee. IV. Hiattis. Hiatus s the non-elision of a vowel or diphthong at the end of a word, when the next word begins with a vowel or diphthong. It is allowed in Homeric verse under the follo\ving conditions. I. After the vowel i, or u: //. 5. 50 ^-/X^"'' o^'^otvTi.'. 6. 123 t/s 5^ cv i(T). 2. The metrical ictus is the most frequent cause for the Homeric lengthening of a short syllable. But this general cause is often aided by some further special cause. The instances in which ictus can be pleaded may therefore be distinguished into groups. (i) Thus there are instances in which — unless ictus is assumed as the sole cause of the lengthening — the letter seems to be treated as a double consonant: //. 12. 208 ai6\ov oou ^ i iz. Lirfz. bv Terscitiiz.:^ i^ rg. 4C« ir:c. :s j::sciDea ecvncvcci-rally ; cr. Zj;TTffvtf i^i::! the aceii::. cc T-a«o«s, 'Iix\5r? crcci ic^-j/, Sicxi" k^X^^ Piad. oC vi. :_ -- -" Xi'^-^tfl»«^ Aesci- S.ii/if^>t. 100.7" — ^> ^' 7- "9 Xicwaor t Lr-Tl 10. 5^5 icrr? -; -; -■-- -"r - — ^ - -: ; _-> fc»r T-rcaacx?- I: • -r^s ■,:;vt A ^ -•;_..- e \ /it. F, 1^ cr iI-TTijs : :b::s ir: r.'- 12. : - ' ~ ^■^tt-ius^ji^ tbe i. j^ :ri«=jir!5» J J "^^eiu*. T!bs ninrstT -txsdzsc If acrxs s 20c zie sCiLe :.: :ei. — ^iT- ;. u- Kit x.^^ £j~r. APPENDIX. 195 [Seymour suggests the influence of false analogy, through oV 'A^poStrr;, etc.]—//. 4. 155 (etc.) (pi\e KaaiyuriTc. The i of , rjixeLwv : ^ade-qs, ^adeirjs : oXoos, oXolos. So in verbal forms, dyafiaL, dyalofxai: reXioj, reXeib}, etc. — A special cause of variety is what is called * metathesis (shifting) of quantity,' when, the first of two vowels having been shortened, the second is lengthened. Thus -do, in the genitive, passes (through -770) into -ew (Arpeidao, 'ArpeiSew). Similarly such a form as ar^wixev (2nd aor. subj. ia-Tr]/j.i) comes from